Weekend recap

Oh, Monday. I am not ready for you. But I gotta say, you are one punctual gal.

This weekend was ridiculous. Clayton and I are both bruised, scraped and swollen. Clayton's been limping since Saturday afternoon. The nail on my pinky toe was savagely ripped off in a collision. We look like we just got home from the war, but really, we spent most of Saturday lugging around (heavy) furniture.

Long story short, we sold our treadmill. But before you go gettin' all wide eyed and questioning, let me make something clear: We still have a treadmill. I shall never be treadmill-less again in my life. It's just a different treadmill.

As sad as I was to see my baby go, we struck up an awesome deal with Dan and Emily who were looking to unload their much higher quality treadmill (it's identical to the one I used to run on at my old gym and the kind of brand I only wished we could afford). Dan had been trying to get rid of it for close to a year and he was finally more or less like, "I just want this thing gone." One man's trash, am I right?

Goodbye, old friend.
Hello, gorgeous!

So we sold our old treadmill to a local runner who had been looking for one for about 9 months. He said he's been combing online adds for what seemed like forever and was really excited when he saw our listing. Knowing that the treadmill would be well taken care of and frequently used by another passionate runner made it easier to let it go.

And then there was the small matter of lugging our old 300-pound treadmill down the stairs to sell it.

When we first moved into our town house two years ago, my brother-in-law and Clayton spent about 2 hours wrestling our treadmill up the stairs. I had the brilliant idea to use the guest room as our workout area and was pretty adamant that that was the only place I would allow it to go. So my bro-in-law and husband struggled, grunted, and shoved that thing up the stairs at the most awkward of angles, stopping to rearrange and recalculate their approach numerous times.

That's exactly what it was like trying to get the treadmill back down the stairs. The only difference is that this time it was just Clayton and, much to his dismay, me.

I'm not gonna lie, moving that treadmill down the stairs, just the two of us, is probably one of the most physically challenging things I have ever done in my whole life. I almost dropped it on myself, I almost fell down the stairs, I have a baseball-sized bruise on my arm, I ripped skin of handsthat treadmill wrecked me.

But my husband, who remained amazingly patient and optimistic through the whole process, kept my head in the game and in less than 15 minutes, we successfully lugged that massive thing down the stairs with minimal damage to the walls.

The second that thing touched bottom at the base of the stairs, I burst into hysterical tears. I have no idea why. I just kept muttering, "We did it. We did it." I think it was a combination of exhaustion, relief, complete surprise and pride.

One day in the future, after I've endured the excruciating pain of labor and childbirth, I will hold my newborn son or daughter in my arms for the very first time, look my handsome husband in the eyes and say, "Moving that damn treadmill was still harder."

Don't even get me started on getting the new treadmill out of Dan's garage and into our living room. We had to call my brother-in-law for reinforcements.

I didn't take a lot of pictures this weekend because honestly, I feel like snapping a picture of everything fun I'm doing just for the sake of the blog kind of takes away from the actual experience. And as much as I love sharing my life with you, I want my experiences to be authentic and genuine. If I just so happen to have my camera out at that time, then good. But I really don't want to be "that girl" who has to stop everyone from eating their dinner because I gotta put a picture of my plate on Instagram for a blog post. 

Plus, if I took pictures of Clayton and I moving furniture, it would be nothing but pictures of me crying, Clayton sweating, and us scuffing up our apartment walls.

BUT, I did get oodles of laundry done. I know that chores like laundry and dishes are a fact of life and any responsible adult does these things regularly, but I don't. So whenever I do get around to finally folding the clothes I left crumbled in the dryer for 2 days, I feel an overwhelming sense of self-satisfaction. Almost like I deserve a medal. A medal for doing, ya know, that thing that everyone else on the planet does every single day without complaining or putting it off for exorbitant periods of time.

We also made time to have a small cookout with Colby and Ireli on Saturday and spent the evening at the drive-in watching Monsters University and the new Superman movie. I was sold on Monsters University from the get-go, but I fell asleep during Superman within the first 15 minutes. I dunno, Superman just doesn't do anything for me. I just can't take a man flying through the air in a red cape seriously. I'm sorry.

Friday night, Clayton and I went to a summer wine pairing class and tasted about 12 different rosé wines in between snacking on bread and cheeses. True to form, I only liked the drier wines and as much as it pains me to admit, I dumped a lot of the sweeter wines back into the tasting spittoon. Sweet drinks, alcoholic or not, make my stomach hurt.

After we sampled a few wines, dinner was served. We feasted on a colorful assortment of locally grown vegetables (including purple potatoes!) and Clayton learned that he absolutely loves beets! For dessert we each had a slice of the most amazing peach tart that has ever graced my taste buds, and I ate mine and most of Clayton's.

Our instructor said that everyone's palette is different and not everyone will pick up the same notes in a wine's flavor. He also said that no matter how hard we try, we couldn't possibly come up with an adjective to describe a wine that he hasn't heard before. He's apparently heard it all. He's even heard someone say that a particular wine tasted like "cat pee".

Not to back away from a challenge, I came up with an honest-to-goodness description that has never been uttered in a wine-tasting room before. One of the wines seriously smelled like broccoli farts, but Clayton forbid me to repeat it to our instructor.

How was your weekend!?


  1. Hey girl! I wanted to let you know I nominated you for a Liebster Award! You can read about it in my blog post today. http://www.splendidactually.com/2013/06/liebster-award.html I hope you will accept!


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