I roofied myself.

So Sunday night Ben and I went to see the Hunger Games.  Were home by 5:30.  Took G on a cocktail walk (we had cocktails.  he did not.)  Then I decided I'd make myself a vodka soda with lemon.  It tasted a little off, but after the first few minutes I didn't notice.

I also engaged in some ambien taking upon bed time.  (not a ton of drinks here, people.  just to be clear.)

Then my child screamed from 2-5.

Then slept ON me,  In "mama bed," which means great sleep for him--less for me.  Up.  dressed.  to work.  FEEL AWFUL.  Like, hungover.  Which seems odd.  I blamed it on the not sleeping and guess I didn't eat enough or something (no ambien eating for me.)  AWFUL, by the way.  awful.

This morning Ben comes into the bathroom while I'm getting dressed.  Asked where I found the vodka.  I told him.  He asked if it was in a glass bottle.  I say yes.  He laughs and says he has figured out the mystery--that was everclear.

So, basically... don't drink everclear.  Unless you are in college. Or you have intestines made of steal.  Or are promised you will get to sleep.  From now on, I think we need to be more clear about our labeling.

By the way--everclear, soda and lemon--only tastes bad for the first few sips.  Then you don't notice the burning.

It's too late now.

I was obsessed with some blue pants.  Obsessed.  OBSESSED.  I tried them on multiple times.  Were they cute?  Eh?  Probably not.  Which is why I kept not buying them.  I'm not made for anything tapered.  Girls got hips.  But BLUE PANTS y'all.  blue pants.  That are comfortable.  I look awful in them.  My legs look shorter than normal.  But I've worn them.  To the Hunger Games.  Someone could have taken me out in that shiz.  Thank goodness I made some alliances.

 Do you see how clean my grout is?  Or are you more focused on my guns?

 I thought jazz hands might distract from my "curves."

I was wrong.

You win some you lose some.

And yes, it IS that hot to wear sleeveless.  sigh.

A spectator sport.

This morning was the cap10k.  The 5th largest 10k in the US (so they say... in the newspaper.)  The Dr. Ben Black ran this morning.  He's been training for this one (minus the weeks off for traveling, house flooding, etc etc.)  It was a BEAUTIFUL day.

G$ and I made it to mile 2.5 and got to see the beginning of the race, which was unclear to me as to why some guy was driving a convertible, but whatevs.  Maybe he wanted to feel the wind in his bald head like the very first runner?  Not sure.  We cheered.  The guy next to us was saying that there was a water stop up ahead.  To the elites... at which point he looked at me and said, I guess they don't really care about that, huh?  nope.  They don't.  I told Griffin to look for Dada.  He is in a green shirt.

Every.  Green.  Shirt.  DADA!  GREEN SHIRT!  But we finally saw him.  He kissed us.  Sweatily.

Apparently he saw us first.  Cut some guy off.  Apologized later.  The guy accepted on the account he was kissing his kid.  We've been yelling "GO RUNNERS" all day.  

We tried to surprise the Ben Black at the finish line,but he was too fast for us.  I knew this because I saw a guy in a full out wizard outfit, complete with beard, who was like 10 mins behind.  I did not see the girl who was vomiting at mile 2.5 again.  Then again... she didn't have a beard so she was hard to spot.  

Look how fast dada is!  SO many people still running.

Slowskies.

Coffee at Jo's after the race.   

Hollywood.  With a nana.  Or as he now says... neena.

It's cool.  I'm recovering from all of the cheering.

Wah-ner.  WANER WANER WANER.

Dada, I gotsta hydrate.  It was a tough morning.

I guess you ran today... I suppose you can have some.  for now.  Until it's back to me.

So it strikes me odd that races are such spectator sports.  There were people coming down with their lawn chairs when G and I first posted up.  It's both weird and I love it.  What a nice way to spend a lovely morning.  Watching other people workout.

My sickness.

I love clothes.  A lot.  I currently desire these pants.  I also desire no hips.

You're so vain.

You probably think that we size our stuff so that you'll buy it.

Amanda, you're so vain.  You buy things that are just ok because they are a small size.

If you knew my singing voice, you'd know that these lyrics though wrong sound about the same as if they rhymed.  Though G says, "Mama, more sing" and then sings off key.  Whatevs, yo.  It's a joyful noise?  Or some such shit that is vanity sizing all the same.

Anyway, today I tried on these pants that the sales girl said she LOVES (keep in mind sales girl is approximately 25, very tall, very thin, and able to wear heels all day.  These are not descriptors of moi.)  If you said, short legs, large bff thighs and probably has a buzz after 7:30 then that would be me.  Either way.  She told me they were amazing.  So I tried them on.  And bought 2 sizes smaller.

SOLD.

She also said my butt looked good.  Have I mentioned I'm an easy target?  This is what shopping for 20 minutes alone will do to you when you really expected a handyman to show up to fix the effing holes in your wall so you keep your kid at daycare all day only he doesn't show up and so you give up and go shopping.  Tiny pants that you are scared to bring in the house.

and holes in the wall.  (and another pair of pants, and maybe a shirt.  and maybe another shirt.)

Come visit Austin.

On the cheap.  Y'all.  It's a good city.  And a frugal travel person did it on the cheaps.  You can eat much better.  And see more bats.  Fo' frizzles.  And there are LOTS of runs--not just in gorilla suits.  Like Zooma.  Or the Captex 10k (THIS weekend.)  OR well... we have lots.  Or bike rides.  Or anything out doors.

And don't forget that the Top Chef works here.  And.  Wow.  Is it good.

Check.  it.  out.

19 month pictures