"Secret" - Orchestral Manoeuvers in the Dark

"Hey," he said, predictably from the other end.

"Hey," I replied.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Therapy," I answered. Through the distance between us, I sensed his nervousness. He was silent, unsure how to respond to his wife, who'd just confessed to a mid-day, self-induced, therapy session. Was this a sensitivity test? A trap? A breakdown? A threat?

"What?" he asked, trying to buy more time to secure the right response.

"Therapy," I repeated. Then, because I'm a nice wife who never (by never, I mean, always) does secret, hypothetical, manipulative, emotional tests on her husband, I let him off the hook with a simple explanation.

The past week has not been some of my favorite. (Although, Halloween definitely was.) One sore ankle. An unwelcoming smell of crap on my lawn. Spending $300 on running shoes. And $100 on a pair of super FLAT shoes.  One sore ankle. The sound of a BB gun repeatedly going off in my house. One sore ankle. A dog puking like a sorority girl. Chapped lips. A treadmill that calls my name in the night. A broken ice maker. Not enough laundry. And one very, sore ankle.

So Peanut at school, a dog that was shut in the bathroom and work that could wait an hour or two. I had alone time. Put my phone on silent.  Time alone with my  grump/slumpy self.

I cranked up Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark (don‘t judge), unloaded my fridge onto my counter, tied up my apron and got to work. With all the angst of my unsettled soul, I mashed bananas, scooped cocoa, marinated chicken breasts, squeezed lemons, beat eggs, mixed in cinnamon, roasted peppers, sprinkled salt, sliced sweet potatoes, whipped butter and zested lemons. I made a mess. I teared up [without any onions present]. And spilled. And grated my finger. And broke a sweat.

Sigh.

That felt good. Not 20 miles good. But. Really good.

I bought yet another pair of running shoes. The dog stopped puking. I bought some chapstick. My ice maker has been resurrected in the nick of [winter] time. My lawn is starting to sprout little green blades in among all the smelly crap. I’m pretty sure my grumpy ankle actually smiled a little at me a little after my swim. And my husband, still scared for his life, offered to rub my ankle [until it feels better].

What a guy.

He definitely passed the "What-To-Do-When-You're-Wife-Has-A-Mental-Breakdown-From-A-Bung-Ankle" test.

Maybe next week when he calls, and asks what I'm up to, I'll test him again with the old "I'm having a breakdown because my NordicTrack sucks and I need a new Woodway Treadmill..."

"Check It Out" - Will.i.am & Nicki Minaj

ya. so. this. is. about. as. random. of. a. post. as. they. come.

And in honor of Kovas . . . . I'm going to "kiss".

Keep
it
simple
stupid.

[no, he never REALLY calls me "stupid"]

So here's some awesomeness - photo style.

1st photo
my "I have no brain photo":

Ummm, ya.
Probably should have thought about placement.

So, I emailed Mooshy [uggggg] J-moo and he's sending me a new one.  He. might. rock. just. a. little-ish lot.

Got an extra 2 miles in with Mase [he kept staring at me out my window].

but
when
I
got
home.

Awwwww, heck ya. Hello [my favorite] UPS woman!

We have boxes.

I love boxes.

First up:

A box for Ms. Peanut:

5 pounds.

5. freaking. pounds. 

This is how it worked:

Pita:  Peanut I need your iPhone.
Peanut:  ummm, you bought it for me.....for my birthday.....like a gift to me.

[omitting a lot]

Pita:  so here's the deal.  I'll buy you that stupid 5 pound gummy thing you want in exchange for your iPhone or if you are grouchy I'll just take the phone and no gummy thing.
Peanut:  I'll take the gummy bear.
Me:  s m a r t  girl.

Interesting fact:  one 5 pound gummy = 12,900 calories.

So - - - I'm buying another for my 24 hour treadmill run.

Next box:

YAY my Saucony progrid ride 3 that, may I mention, are going to be discontinued.  UGGG.

Then.  This:

Because you bet cha - I wanna be like Janae.  who doesn't?

Then
it
was
time
for
"big daddy".

The. Big Daddy. [Nordstrom] box.

Let's put it in perspective:

That's the fun of my job someday's.  Like Forrest Gump.

It's like a box of chocolates . . .

ya
never
know
what
you
are
going
to
get.

Do
I
really
have
to
sell
it?

Have you ever hid a purchase from your significant other?
Did it work? 

Happy Friday!

"See The sun " - Dido

Today's  post in [mostly] photos.

Very happy about this:

"See The Sun" on Sunday . . . . YAY me!!

Saw this at the Hallmark I frequent:

I received this from MY Mom yesterday.

Yes, Mom it's the little things to me.  They make me happiest.  It is my favorite Christmas gift.

Got these from the Pita yesterday.  I think they enhance the loveliness of the tree, personally.

Yes, we have a shooting and/or falling star.  I.  Give.  Up.

But, hey . . . . I got this early for this Sunday's little trot [ewwww] run [from the Pita]!

You bet cha' Baby!  "RUN EMZ".  I heart this.

I also hearted the email from a company telling me of my "other" Christmas present.  HILARIOUS.  Note to husbands:  If you buy your wife something . . . . make sure they do not have your wife's email on file.

That was the most awesome email I have ever forwarded.  ever.

His reply, "Merry Freaking Christmas!  SUR-PRISE! SUR-PRISE! sur-freaking-prise!"

"Scar Tissue" - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Not sure why that band came to mind today?! 

Hmmmmmmm.   Weird.

Anyway........my Thursday "numbers" post.

1 - # of injuries incurred on today's run [outside......gasp......] this is what happens when you are pulling your dog the last 1/4 mile and don't see that "speed limit" sign.

24 - # of M&M's I ate off of Peanut's Gingerbread house [for breakfast] she made last night.  No I was NOT the one counting.

13 - # of "Mad-Libs" we did yesterday at Border's.

10 - # of days until the Tucson Marathon.

45 - # of days until RNR AZ Marathon.

58 - # of days until I run the ARR Marathon with my sister!!

22 - # of days until the Pita's family arrives.

18 - # of days they'll be staying.

3 - # of family members arriving.

3 - # of family members arriving that I adore.

22 - # of shopping days I have left to buy gifts [for these members].

4 - # of shoes I've bought for myself in 7 days.  Don't judge.

90 - the percentage off I got these babies at.
40 - dollar amount paid after 90% off.

2 - days until we get our Christmas tree.

0 - # of "running" related ornaments I've found for my tree.

7 - stores I've looked in for one. [and the ones on eBay . . . are not nice]

44 - number of cycling ornaments I have found.

100 - percentage I am sure I'll be "taking up" cycling starting February 1, 2011.  So I'm buying the 44, ones I've seen along the way.

1 - # of cuts I have on my tongue.


0.044 - percentage chance, I'll actually share how I managed to do it.

Pour Some Sugar On me

The Pita stayed home yesterday do laundry[nope], do the ironing[nope], watch Top Gear on the DVR[yep], be with me yesterday [I think, yes] ---- okay, fine probably just to get his 2.5 hour workout in.

One conversation went like this:

P: So what do you want to do today?
Me: Uhh, get better.
P: Let's go somewhere.
Me: like?
P: to look at cars.
Me: Ya, I'm sure that'll help.
P: You're not very nice today.
Me: I'm sick.  See the temp [not good], hear me [I sound like a phlegmy 80 year old smoker], smell me [just kidding-I'm a showeraholic especially when I'm sick]
P: "Pour some sugar on" you! [we are a rare breed [couple] who can converse exclusively using song titles, we are just special like that.]
Me: "Every rose has it's thorn"
P: But you are my "wild thing".... you make my heart sing. 
Me: fine . . "pass the Dutchie" - let's go.

It was a nice distraction until about noon when I thought my head and lungs were about to blow. 

I mean look at this Panamera Turbo. [drool]

So it was back home for me and off to the doctor.  Ya, I guess I do need those antibiotics after all.  2pm I get there.  "Ummmm, honey your appointment is at 3pm".

I was too pissed at her calling me honey to even care about the time problem.
Seriously.  If you are a woman, don't ever call me "honey. The only exception is if your hair is silver/white or if you are a parent of mine.  I HATE, HATE, HATE being called "honey".

Anyway.

Wasn't about to sit there for an hour so I did what all good, kind, considerate sick people would do. . . . . . . went to buy running shoes.

Where I met "Andy" who will be joining me [sorta] at the Man Vs Horse race in October.

Andy:  will it be your first trail run? [we had just finished the 15 minute talk about my "treadmill running"]
Me:  Kinda.  I did do the Whiskey Row Marathon but don't worry, I KNOW it's not the same type of trail.
Andy: The 25 will be challenging.
Me: Well, I'm doing the 50.
Andy: [nope nothing-just the look]

waiting
waiting
waiting

Andy: you are doing the 50? [yes, there was an emphasis on the "you" that I did not enjoy]
Me: You bet cha.  Show me the buckle! [big warm, sickly smile.]
Andy: wow.  I'll uhhh make sure to look for you.
Me: ya! It'll be fun to show you my buckle.  [I'm joking-I didn't say that . . . .]
Me {revised}:  You think I'm "done for", don't you?
Andy: I'll be really impressed.

Uggg. Whatever. He better not have sold me the "wrong" shoes. ;)

Note to self [never shop under the influence of Nyquil]

I am dying to try these out!!!

Now for a drum roll . . . . I have . . . . . walking pneumonia.  awesome.  He said I could call it running pneumonia if it made me feel better.