What I did:
- This weekend I saw my nephew, Noah, for the first time in ages and got to help throw him an early 5th birthday party! Clay and I went to my mom’s house to celebrate with the little booger and watch him open presents and have a cookout. I was only a little jealous when he opened a brand new 3D Toy Story bed set from my mom and sister that came complete with giant stuffed Woody and Buzz dolls. (And yes, I said a 3D bedding set. Clayton and I have already spoken extensively about getting one for ourselves. I would never leave the house.)
I only tried to take Woody home with me … twice.
- And of course, Clayton and I were the uncool aunt and uncle that bought him school supplies!
But in my defense, in addition to a pretty rad Spiderman lunchbox, we bought Noah a DVD of An American Tail because come on, that was one of the best movies when I was a kid! What kind of aunt would I be if I didn't pass down my amazing, if not slightly racist, Russian mouse movie traditions?
- (I can't get any of these photos to come in properly. They're all uploading sideways even though they are not saved to my desktop this way. I can't fix it, but I wanted to post a picture of my nephew anyway so you ... you just enjoy that.)
- I spent the better part of this weekend looking for the phone number for those Hoveround power wheelchair people because lemme tell ya, I was SORE from softball last week. In fact, I was so sore that in order to get in and out of the car, I had to pick up each of my legs individually and place them in and out of the vehicle—it was THAT bad. I can always count on having sore quads and ribs the day after my first softball game each year, but it's normally nothing more than a mild irritant that subsides in less than a day. But this? This was dramatically different (and completely immune to Advil). I felt like I had been in a car wreck. Pair the soreness with the sprained foot and shredded knee cap, and I looked like I just got home from 'Nam. I didn't walk so much as I lurched my way around, looking as if I spent 2 weeks riding bareback in the Rocky Mountains—not cute. And anytime I tried to cough or laugh, a sharp pain stabbed at my ribs which, naturally, made everything funnier. How I managed to run this weekend, I have no idea. I can't believe how radically different my leg muscles are used in softball than they are in running.
- Sunday night as I was brushing my teeth and firing up my Kindle to watch a few episodes of Saved by the Bell before bed, Clayton came into the bathroom and said, "I need your help lifting up the mattress. A giant spider got loose." Oh honey, I thought to myself as I spit toothpaste into the sink, lifting up the mattress won't be necessary. Consider my bags packed and me on my way to a hotel right now. In fact, consider us burning the sheets and buying a new bed first thing in the morning. But my hubby was persistent and eventually recruited me to help locate the spider (I only gave in because I knew I wouldn't be able to fall asleep knowing a giant hairy spider might go for an evening promenade across my face at any given moment). I daintily held up one corner of the mattress between my thumb and pinky with my body facing the door, ready for flight at a moment's notice. But the second we lifted the mattress off the box-spring, we discovered that the spider had already been crushed to death under the weight of the mattress (and me probably sitting on that mattress flapping my hands and shrieking, "We have to move! We're gonna have to move!"). Clay grabbed a shoe (one of my shoes, of course) and flicked the spider carcass somewhere we can't find, so now I have to spend the rest of my life contending with a mysterious spider corpse that will inevitably reveal itself at the most inopportune time.
- As you know (if you’re paying close attention), Saturday was my last long run before the mini marathon! And considering how ridiculously sore I was from Thursday’s softball game, I can’t believe I ran all 8 of those miles, let alone ran them fast and UPhill! I’m not gonna lie, when I hit “start” on my GPS and broke into a slow trot, my legs were like, “WTF? Seriously? What’s going on? Please, please stop.” But I didn’t give in to my stiffness and after about half a mile, my body became acclimated to its running routine and I actually felt wonderful. The air was chilly and overcast—perfect weather for a strong run. I finished my 8 miles in 1:06:16 which came out to an 8:17 min/mile pace, and I’ll take it!
- Sunday’s recovery run was really anything but because I have a hard time “going slow”. I know it’s better for my body to take it easy by about 30 second per mile on my recovery days, but it’s better for my pride to keep my pace leaning towards the faster side of average. Oops.
- Now I’m in taper mode which is technical jargon for “run less and eat all the bread in the house!”, but I’m actually feeling like I’m going through withdrawal. I stood solemnly on my treadmill this morning before work (Yes, before work. A-thank you.), feeling sad that I was only allowed to run 3 miles because I’m supposed to be “taking it easy” and “not trying to kill myself”. My thighs looked up at me like, “We run more?” And I was like, “No thighs, not today. I’m sorry.”
- I’m compiling all the songs for my Official One America 500 Festival Mini Marathon Playlist (longest playlist name ever?), so if you have a song you’d like for me to add, please let me know ASAP! I’m really excited about what I have so far—so thank you!
- Friday night I decided that nothing would help my softball injuries heal faster than some good ol’ comfort food, so I slow-cooked a big batch of pulled pork, and it was sinfully delicious. Barbeque sauce is one of those condiments that I’ve shied away from most of my life, but as of lately I’ll look at Clayton and be like, “You know what sounds amazing right now? Ribs.” So pulled pork we ate!
- Being as I went to a birthday party this weekend, you know I brought the cake! Friday night I stayed up until midnight baking my nephew his birthday cake and if there’s one thing I’ll stay up late for, it’s cake. I asked my oldest sister what kind of cake Noah would be interested in (meaning flavor-wise), but he misunderstood her question and blurted out, “Cowboys or Ghostbusters!” Great. I can barely write my name with a pencil, let alone try to draw something with frosting.
So there Clay and I were at Wal-mart in the middle of the night, searching high and low for a Ghostbuster action figure or Woody the Cowboy toy I could toss on the cake in an effort to keep up with my nephew's requested theme, but we were at a loss. Defeated, we ended up going to the Dollar General on a whim because hey, who doesn’t love $1 frozen burritos? And that’s where we found a package of toy Sheriff badges—Perfect for a cowboy cake! We high-fived over our find (now that I think of it, we high-five over everything), happy because we could give Noah the cake he wanted and even happier because there were extra toy badges for us to keep.
And keeping true to my artistic vision, I dyed the batter lime green so we could at least pretend like the inside of the cake was Ghostbuster-themed, too.
|Don't be intimidated by my awesome frosting penmanship.|
|That doesn't look good at all.|
|But he still ate it.|