Does this guilt make me look fat?

So I live in one of those cities where you feel bad if you don't work out--because EVERYONE works out. Like on a weekend if you choose to have brunch instead of running, and drive to your destination (vs. biking), you pass millions (ok, millions don't live here)of people jogging biking, swimming (due to the humidity, I'm pretty sure that walking counts as swimming.) So many mornings a week I get up when it's dark and get in a run (so I fit in.)

In my adult life I ran when chased. I start with adult life because honestly, anything before college doesn't count. I mean, we could go back to childhood where I had endless amounts of energy and my parents put me in every sport possible so that when I got home I was exhausted. I've grown out of that phase. So you can only count it if you are my husband who is a gazelle and ran CC in college. Ok, maybe he's a gazelle that drinks a lot of beer, but he still recalls how to run. So yesterday he decided he's going to get in shape again--which will take him like 2 weeks and he won't have to stop drinking and he'll lose like 20 lbs in 2 days. Jerk.

In college I participated in many a choreographed dance. Oh... how I love a group dance scene. (for rush, sing song, homecoming...) Step aerobics was at it's height back then so I took some of those classes too... Oh, and I swam for a class and took yoga. Grad school.... eh, is a wash. I went, worked out, got married, got fat, graduated.

Then Nikki and I started running--and eating biscuits and gravy after our 5k races. Then we started running and going to weight watchers. This proved to be a more effective option. Then I joined Team in Training for my first endurance event. I was going to run 13.1 miles. This was beyond my realm of comprehension, but I did it.

I'm now on my 3rd event--training for my 2nd FULL marathon. As my alarm went off this morning I sat there thinking about how great sleeping for an extra hour would feel. And I got out of bed, changed my clothes, put on my NEW running shoes (which are the same as my old ones but NEW and purple), pulled back my hair with my new sweatyband* and off I went at 6:10AM. It's amazing what a good dose of guilt can do for you.

Well, guilt, wanting to fit into my clothes, continuing to get to purchase fab running clothes, and finding a cure for blood cancers. I've become one of those people. I run a million miles on Saturday mornings before you've had your first cup of coffee. I talk about needing a little more protein. I am likely to have some gu in my car, probably some socks, possibly a sports bra. SO my workout for the day is done. Now I can move about my day... sports watch in tow.

*a sweatyband was not a mis-spelling. It's an amazingly cute, amazingly durable, amazingly non slip head band.... and perhaps I'm wearing one at work.)

I think I blacked out...

or something like that. Yesterday, after getting up and cleaning and doing 900 loads of laundry, going to the pool, playing a little wii, going to world market, etc etc something happened.

Ben left to go fishing and I was going to go rent a movie. SO off I set to blockbuster when low and behold--I ended up at the pedicure place! How did that happen? it's like my car had a mind of it's own (we should check into this--maybe it goes for joy rides by itself too. I'm well aware that it steals sunglasses.) I mean, and what am I to do? SO, I got a pedicure AND THE LADY ACTUALLY REMEMBERED ME! I figure this is due to my celebrity status. Well, that or the fact that I make them cut my nails shorter than they would like. She also rubbed my legs longer than normal--sheer bliss.

Other convo's that apparently happen when you near 30.
Random Person: SO, are you married.
AB: Yes.
RP: How long?
AB: 4.5 years
RP: Do you have kids?
AB: No. smile awkwardly.... remove eye contact (no, not my actual contact, but more stop making eye contact... whatevs.)
RP: SO when are you going to have them?
AB: umm... I don't know?
RP: Well, you should be ok because I didn't have my first one until 38. You still have a few years.

Um, so some random nail lady told me I still have some good years left. Uh, thanks? I'll let my ovaries that though they are drying up... they may still have a few good years.

Thanks random people of the world. Thanks. I mean, at least my nails look nice so I have that going for me.

Conversations

So when the BB came to bed the other night and I was semi conscious I asked him,

AB-"Did you bring the citations?"
BB-"Um... what?"
Ab (realizing that I said something strange... so just repeating it like I know what I'm doing) "Did you bring the citations?"
BB-...yes...

This is the sound....

of silence. Or not. You may recall how yesterday I admitted that I have an aversion to some noises--flip flop noise (though it could be ship ship noise, tbd), a lot of mouth noises, scraping your teeth across a fork noise, paper towel on dry hands noise, smacking, spitty k's (like in mil-K), it could go on forever really--and snoring.

I am the lightest sleeper ever--hence the deep love and devotion to ambien. So I took a half of one last night read a little Julie and Julia (which has me convinced that someday I can be famous for making eggs), and went to sleep. My husband stays up late doing things like making flying robots and saving the world from meteors, and perfecting all games on the wii (from which I'm very sore from boxing.)

And then it begins. The snoring. I keep saying his name, then yelling his name (and not in a good way.) Then I lay and brood. I wish I had a needle to poke him. not a crack needle (do you inject crack?), not a needle like you get shots with, but a tiny sewing needle. I mean, I'm not a barbarian. (everytime I say "barbarian" I think of Hana Barbara cartoons taht I watched on sunday mornings. Anyway, neither here nor there.) So I want to stick him every time he snores. I think it would greatly lead to more incidents, and maybe a divorce, but perhaps also some sweet sweet sleep. So there I lay... plotting my next move. My elbow is about kidney height. I'm awful. I JUST WANT TO SLEEP. Instead, I can't. I mean, if I get to the point to where I'm about to sleep (after I've said his name and perhaps given a love tap to encourage a roll over), it starts again.

Ps. He has now called in sick because he didn't sleep well. I'm partly to blame for this. Or am I? I think you brought it on yourself, buddy. Basically, it's your fault that I'm an evil, rude, pin poking, name yelling, biatchy wife who could use a little more sleep.

random annoyance #372

someone I work with has flip flop shoe noise.

every day.

all day.

all year.

so loud....

(have I mentioned how I have a thing for noises?)

I love Jesus... but I drink a little.

Oh Gladys. I miss you and your funny ventures that reflect my life. I joked with some loverly friends last week that perhaps I'd change the name of my blog to that. I'm going to say TBD on that one... and you can think it in your mind until all persons have voted. (PS. That is a joke as no one is voting.)

So I have been at my job for one year and 10 days. At the one year marker you can start contributing to your retirement fund (or something like that... there is the death fund too... you know, where all of my royalties will go to my husband, unless he is also deceased and then will all go to my sister.) Anywho... I am not economically minded--nor mathematically minded--and realized (with use of my calculator on my computer today) that it will be 2044 when I'm 65 and of retirement age. HOLY GEEBUS!! I was hoping I could retire in like... a year or something a lot sooner than 2044. (ps. spell check asked if it was GEE BUS...wtf is that? and who says it?)

How overwhelming. After one week of real life slamming me in the face--I'm tired of dealing with it. Why can't I come up with some amazing venture that people want to read about and then make me oodles of money while I'm able to travel around and visit friends and family and always be well rested.

I'm tired of having events every night--which means I haven't grocery shopped in over a week and it makes me feel icky to eat out so much. Oh, and I need to run 5. 8 million miles but don't have time because I'm tired.

So while, I yield high returns on my life for the next 35 years, I'm sure I'll be able to buy a bunch of shoes when I retire. Then again, I'm probably never going to look back and wish I worked more...

Why? little creature?

I know I've mentioned the roly poly epidemic of 2009. They are everywhere in Austin in my office bathroom. Ok, I think more than just that because I've also noticed them at my house by our flower pots. I do not recall seeing so many of them before (except when I was a vile little child who played with them.)

Anyway, so I go to the bathroom and there is one devoted roly poly hanging out... stuck. on his (or her) back. 500 little legs in the air. SEriously, you are created to be ROLY why can't you roll in a ball and roll over. I help them with a little piece of toilet paper. latch on little roly poly, latch on. I save their lievs at least 3 times a day.

Which makes me wonder... are they part of the centipede family? Which then made me think about when I lived with Amy and I was home alone. I turned on the garbage disposal and a centipede FLEW UP INTO THE AIR. After I shit my pants screamed at the top of my lungs--seriously, loud enough for the next door neighbor who was in love with Amy and would give her expensive bottles of wine and ask her out 3x a week the entire time she lived there, would hear me and come to my rescue. (He didn't.)

Which then made me think... if I screamed at our house would my neighbors come? No shoes neighbor? hispanic neighbor? creepy guy living with hispanic neighbor? crazy eyes and no shoes neighbor? lady who works out 80 times a day?

Then I wondered about the roly poly... i hear your screams little friend. I will rescue you.