Case of the Bulge

“A lady is one who never shows her underwear unintentionally.” ~ Lillian Day

I'm curled in my chair upstairs with a super warm Restoration Hardware blanket and my fuzzy slippers, trying to keep warm. One thing we've discovered about our new house is that it stays about as warm as a glacier in the Arctic Ocean, especially when it's 30 degrees outside like it is right now.

So J and I have been spending as much time upstairs as possible, following the whole "heat rises" theory. Mom even stocked us up on flannel sheets and fuzzy pjs for Christmas. Wonder if I can pawn those to help pay the gas bill?

I'm kind of dreading my Team run tomorrow night -- hopefully the wind and freezing rain will hold off for an hour. At least my Team run last Saturday was warm. And it had a slightly humorous start.

When the alarm went off at 5:45, I rolled out of bed, groggily made my way to the dryer to pull out some clean running pants, quickly dressed in the dark and hit the road. Hungry, I decided to stop at a gas station to get a Powerbar and some water.

As I was walking in the door I felt a bulge on my lower left leg. Irritated, I kept shaking my leg as I made my way to the Powerbars. I finally looked down to see a soft bulge sticking through my pant leg. What the hell? I grabbed a couple bottles of water and turned towards the front of the small store. Hands full of fake chocolate bars and bottled water, I gave my leg a final shake. And out flew a bright purple thong.

I guess it had gotten caught in my pant leg during the tumble in the dryer. I quickly sprang for the thong and -- not having any pockets or a purse -- relentlessly began shoving it back up my pant leg while trying to juggle my purchases. I caught the stare of the store clerk as I made my way to checkout. Judging by the size of her grin, I'm sure she was trying to decide whether I was a street hooker or just starting my walk of shame.

Blushing, I didn't bother to explain -- my mismatched outfit and raccoon eyes were sure to betray the truth. The plus side? At least I didn't have to dig for clean undies when I got home!

Cheers to a New Year

"New Year's Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time." ~ James Agate

Well, folks, it's 2009. A new year, a new post and, of course, new resolutions. Despite my best efforts to talk J into driving to Shreveport last night -- I enjoy a little spontaneity; J, however, cringes -- we opted for a quiet dinner out on the town square, followed by a rampage through nearby neighborhoods to take photos with strangers' lawn decorations.

Not really sure who came up with the idea, but we now have a dozen or so photos of us with random lighted snowmen and blow-up Santas. We did exert a smidge of class: Nativity scenes and angels were off limits. For future reference, New Years Eve isn't the best night for this kind of behavior as several of the houses were in the midst of NYE parties ...

Moving along to resolutions. I think it's fun to set goals for yourself and think about new opportunities for a fresh year. Let's see how many I can actually accomplish:

1. Stick to my running schedule. My marathon is three months away -- I need to kick the laziness to the curb and train harder.
2. Drink more water. That means cutting out the 5 diet sodas I drink every day that my doc says is the root of my continuous belly ache.
3. Get out of debt. This should actually be number one for '09, but it's the least fun, I think. But, if we stay on track, we should be in good position by summer.
4. Travel. Travel. Travel. But, just depends on how 3 goes. Puerto Rico may be in the works for early this year, and we definitely want to go snowboarding.
5. De-clutter! This goes for the closets, the garage and life in general.
6. Stretch my brain. Never stop learning or cease to grow -- it's the key to longevity.
7. Create new adventures. I spend more time worrying and over-thinking when I could be experiencing something new and amazing. Just get out there and do it -- worry about the bruises later.
8. Spend more time with the ones that keep me grounded. Make time for happy hours, pokeno nights, late-night chats, laughter, tears and everything in between.
9. Volunteer. That goes for my time, my things, my mind. Team-In-Training has been one of the most amazing things I've done, and I hope to stick with them for years to come.
10. Did someone say "baby"? Yeah, so I think this is the year we'll start trying. After my marathon, of course!

Other than that, I just want to "keep on keepin' on" (come on, from Joe Dirt). Anyway, I hope everyone has a blessed 2009. It'll only be as good as you allow it to be!

Bass-tards

Random Guy sent me a nasty e-mail saying that I must not really be into fishing because I never talk about it, so I should delete it from my "Interests" section because it's deceiving. Deceiving of what, I'm not sure.

I was going to take the high road and ignore it ... but that's no fun. So here's to you, Random Guy, a sampling of a few of the fish I caught this past summer:







Profile policing won't get you any friends, man, but maybe getting your thumb out of your arse will.

Cheers.

Mix-Matched Feet

I've been telling J over the last year that my left foot is smaller than my right foot. He thinks I'm crazy. "Maybe your left shoe is just bigger than your right one and that's why it flops around," he says smugly. But seriously, in all of my shoes? What are the odds of that happening?

I got my answer yesterday when I went to Run On to get fitted for new running shoes. After the sales guy had me jog around the store in my pink socks to check my form, he had me stand on a metal shoe ruler to measure my feet. And there it was. The proof. My right foot stuck out farther than my left.

And don't you know I rubbed it into J's face when I got home. His response? "I'm not surprised, you're not normal."

But who cares, I'm right. :-)

Musings from Starbucks

"He had a fool proof plan for not getting a job -- In the event of an interview, wear flip-flops." ~ Alan Davies

I've been working at Starbucks all morning, just for a change of pace. That, and my cat won't quit chewing on my power cord when I'm working at my desk at home. (That's a story within itself -- someday I'll tell the novel of my bi-polar kitty.)

I've actually gotten a ton accomplished. I'm sure my boss is turning off her blackberry as we speak, not wanting to receive another cheery e-mail from me or PowerPoint to review. She's probably thinking that I'm off my rocker as I hardly ever get anything accomplished on Fridays ... or any day before lunch. Perhaps it was the Diet Coke for breakfast or the Grande White Chocolate Mocha that's got me wired like a caged gerbil on a wheel.

Anyhoo, the characters here this morning are interesting. Surprisingly, I've noticed that more women drive thru while men park and come inside to order. And, the majority of those coming inside are holding an already empty Starbucks cup, which they proudly chunk in the trash and hurriedly jump in line. Talk about a caffeine fix. Mid-day jitters, anyone?

Right now, there's five ladies of various ages sitting at a table next to me. One skinny middle-aged lady is undergoing an interview by the other four plump ladies. She's wearing cropped pants, a sleeveless shirt, open-toed sandals, and more makeup than the Chanel counter at Dillard's. Last I checked, this wasn't the most appropriate attire for a job interview.

But, as I listen closer, neither are her comments. She's interviewing for a job at a pre-school and admitted to leaving her last job as a teacher because she couldn't stand the kids. Interesting. Norah Jones is blasting in here, so I can't catch all of the conversation (and I'm pretty sure they're hoping that the creepy girl in the corner -- that would be me -- would quite staring at them).

An apron-clad barista just came around and passed out free snicker doodle and gingerbread* samples. The ladies giggle and all take one except the interviewee, who sneers and rudely proclaims that she's watching her weight. The four plump women sheepishly set their warm sample down, glance at each other, ask a few more questions and then quickly thank the lady for coming. As the interviewee exits the door, the women indulge themselves and smile.

To dress inappropriately is one thing -- but to make a group of women feel self conscious? Tsk tsk.


*OH. MY. GOD. The gingerbread is AMAZING. Barista lady, come back!