burnt out. need beach. HUBS! CAN YOU HEAR ME? PLEASE...VA Beach for a weekend? Please?? ASAP!
(here's hoping he reads this before July 10th...when we're actually planning to take our vacation. nearly 1 year after our wedding and last vacation...i.e. our honeymoon. See? need beach. stat.)
Thursday, March 25, 2010
I-395 Oddities
Allow me to preface this post by saying the below thoughts have absolutely no value or meaning to them...so don't blame me if you feel dumber after reading.
Sitting in traffic for nearly 2 hours a day, 5 days a week, gives you plenty of time to observe strange things.
Today I noticed an unusual amount of weird objects that had collected on the side of the highway on I-395. Not just the usual smashed up soda cans, cigarette butts, and food wrappers. Today, I saw the following:
1) A silver dinner spoon. This one was actually on a raised curb where the guardrail began. Looked more like someone had placed it there, as opposed to it landing there after someone threw it out the window when they finished eating their morning yogurt.
2) A mouse. Sadly he did not appear to be alive. But, he was fully in tact, not flattened...and hadn't yet been pecked at by a bird. My guess -- a hungry bird scooped him up, but dropped him as they flew over the highway, and the mouse was knocked out cold. I like to think he got up and scurried to safety after rush hour ended.
3) A child's beach sandal. Similar to an aqua sock. I feel your pain kid -- I hated wearing shoes when I was little, too. Mom had to put "locks" on my sandals so I wouldn't take them off. And then subsequently throw them out the car window. Like you were able to do. How liberating!
4) A plastic bottle with the words "Muscle Milk" on the side. Assume this is some sort of meat-head protein drink. Also assume I will NEVER drink one. Sick.
5) A large number of broken beer bottles and beer cans. Not in one concentrated spot, but littered along the highway. Hoping a nice homeless guy consumed them while walking safely on the other side of the guardrail. That or they accidentally fell out of a recycling truck. REALLY hoping they weren't from stupid drunk drivers.
and my personal favorite...
6) A corn cob. Yup. A real corn cob. All the kernels had been removed (eaten?), but there it sat, on the side of 395. Now THAT'S a tough snack to pull off while driving. Kudos to you, corn-eater.
Sitting in traffic for nearly 2 hours a day, 5 days a week, gives you plenty of time to observe strange things.
Today I noticed an unusual amount of weird objects that had collected on the side of the highway on I-395. Not just the usual smashed up soda cans, cigarette butts, and food wrappers. Today, I saw the following:
1) A silver dinner spoon. This one was actually on a raised curb where the guardrail began. Looked more like someone had placed it there, as opposed to it landing there after someone threw it out the window when they finished eating their morning yogurt.
2) A mouse. Sadly he did not appear to be alive. But, he was fully in tact, not flattened...and hadn't yet been pecked at by a bird. My guess -- a hungry bird scooped him up, but dropped him as they flew over the highway, and the mouse was knocked out cold. I like to think he got up and scurried to safety after rush hour ended.
3) A child's beach sandal. Similar to an aqua sock. I feel your pain kid -- I hated wearing shoes when I was little, too. Mom had to put "locks" on my sandals so I wouldn't take them off. And then subsequently throw them out the car window. Like you were able to do. How liberating!
4) A plastic bottle with the words "Muscle Milk" on the side. Assume this is some sort of meat-head protein drink. Also assume I will NEVER drink one. Sick.
5) A large number of broken beer bottles and beer cans. Not in one concentrated spot, but littered along the highway. Hoping a nice homeless guy consumed them while walking safely on the other side of the guardrail. That or they accidentally fell out of a recycling truck. REALLY hoping they weren't from stupid drunk drivers.
and my personal favorite...
6) A corn cob. Yup. A real corn cob. All the kernels had been removed (eaten?), but there it sat, on the side of 395. Now THAT'S a tough snack to pull off while driving. Kudos to you, corn-eater.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Calling him out just a bit...
I'm still working on my Shandy Cup post, but in the mean time, here's a nice little tid-bit from an evening conversation with Todd last night:
Preface -- I had been flipping back and forth between Gossip Girl and True Life: I need a Transplant (on MTV) last night, so I was a bit behind on both shows when Todd came back downstairs from finishing his Fantasy Baseball Draft.
Scene Setting -- it was about 10:15pm, I was laying on the couch, and I had just fast forwarded through a set of commercials, with about 15 minutes left in my taped Gossip Girl episode.
Todd: Oh, is Gossip Girl two hours tonight?
Me: No...why?
Todd: Because it usually starts at 9, doesn't it?
Me: I've been flipping channels...but WOW, that you know that...
He's like a human TV Guide!
Preface -- I had been flipping back and forth between Gossip Girl and True Life: I need a Transplant (on MTV) last night, so I was a bit behind on both shows when Todd came back downstairs from finishing his Fantasy Baseball Draft.
Scene Setting -- it was about 10:15pm, I was laying on the couch, and I had just fast forwarded through a set of commercials, with about 15 minutes left in my taped Gossip Girl episode.
Todd: Oh, is Gossip Girl two hours tonight?
Me: No...why?
Todd: Because it usually starts at 9, doesn't it?
Me: I've been flipping channels...but WOW, that you know that...
He's like a human TV Guide!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
My favorite piece of art...
....is not really art at all.
It's this poem:
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
~Emily Dickinson
This poem used to hang in my bedroom as a little girl. Growing up, it was always in a thin black plastic frame, hanging on the wall. It got moved around as my room changed over the years, but it never got stashed in a drawer, or thrown away. I never paid it much attention, but felt like it was a completing part of the room, that couldn't be removed.
When I moved out of my parents house and into my first apartment, this poem still hung on my wall. I would always absentmindedly read it to myself whenever I would walk past wherever it was hanging at the time. Never really taking in the words.
When Todd and I moved into our townhouse, I was sorting through my frames and pictures and found this poem...still in it's original, thin, black plastic frame, and knew it needed to be hung back up. My mom happened to be there that day, and I said "hmm...I think I should re-frame this". So I slid it out of the thin, black plastic frame, and suddenly realized I was looking at a page from a magazine.
My mom said "oh, I completely forgot I cut that out of a magazine so many years ago and framed it!"
It was at that point, that I realized I had memorized this poem. I could recite this poem without looking at it. With my eyes closed. From memory.
This poem that never really made sense to me before, now took on new meaning. Even if I'm not making a difference in the world, I can make a difference to one person...one life...and in turn better myself.
With my mom standing there, I realized that she knew exactly what Emily Dickinson was saying in this poem, when she decided to cut it out of that magazine and hang it in my bedroom. These were words she wanted me to live my life by. Don't start with the world. Start with one person -- one life -- and in loving one heart...you will be able to love your own. The way she loved me. The way she loved everyone in her life.
I hung the picture (in a new, nice wood frame) in the guest bathroom of our townhouse. I had almost forgotten it was in there until I went in the guest bathroom this morning to make sure it was clean for Todd's impending guests.
As I caught the reflection of Emily Dickinson's calming words in the mirror, I smiled and thought to myself "that really is my favorite piece of art".
It's this poem:
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
~Emily Dickinson
This poem used to hang in my bedroom as a little girl. Growing up, it was always in a thin black plastic frame, hanging on the wall. It got moved around as my room changed over the years, but it never got stashed in a drawer, or thrown away. I never paid it much attention, but felt like it was a completing part of the room, that couldn't be removed.
When I moved out of my parents house and into my first apartment, this poem still hung on my wall. I would always absentmindedly read it to myself whenever I would walk past wherever it was hanging at the time. Never really taking in the words.
When Todd and I moved into our townhouse, I was sorting through my frames and pictures and found this poem...still in it's original, thin, black plastic frame, and knew it needed to be hung back up. My mom happened to be there that day, and I said "hmm...I think I should re-frame this". So I slid it out of the thin, black plastic frame, and suddenly realized I was looking at a page from a magazine.
My mom said "oh, I completely forgot I cut that out of a magazine so many years ago and framed it!"
It was at that point, that I realized I had memorized this poem. I could recite this poem without looking at it. With my eyes closed. From memory.
This poem that never really made sense to me before, now took on new meaning. Even if I'm not making a difference in the world, I can make a difference to one person...one life...and in turn better myself.
With my mom standing there, I realized that she knew exactly what Emily Dickinson was saying in this poem, when she decided to cut it out of that magazine and hang it in my bedroom. These were words she wanted me to live my life by. Don't start with the world. Start with one person -- one life -- and in loving one heart...you will be able to love your own. The way she loved me. The way she loved everyone in her life.
I hung the picture (in a new, nice wood frame) in the guest bathroom of our townhouse. I had almost forgotten it was in there until I went in the guest bathroom this morning to make sure it was clean for Todd's impending guests.
As I caught the reflection of Emily Dickinson's calming words in the mirror, I smiled and thought to myself "that really is my favorite piece of art".
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Treadmill Training Camp
Last week I convinced Todd that I *needed* a treadmill in our house, or I might die from lack of exercise. Dramatic, yes...but inspiring? Totally.
I decided I wanted a treadmill in the basement last Monday night. On Tuesday morning I searched Craigslist for cheap ones. Found a nice Reebok one for sale, and the minute I got home from work Tuesday evening, Todd and I went back out the door to check out the Reebok treadmill. Unfortunately when I tried it out, we found out that the belt stuck, causing me to jerk forward while walking. I had visions of myself slingshotting off the back of the treadmill if I ever tried to run on it, or even walk without holding on to the handrails, so we thanked them kindly, told a little white lie that we wanted to sleep on our decision, and hightailed it back home.
The next day, the Reebok treadmill was re-posted for $50 less, stating that the belt sticks when walking.
But my search was un-phased and on Wednesday I found a new posting for a treadmill a short distance from our house. So on my way home from work I called the Craigslist poster and asked if we could come by that evening to check it out. She said yes, so I called Todd and said "umm...i made an appointment to see a Treadmill tonight..." Not exactly how he wanted to spend another evening off of work, but we went to see the treadmill -- WHICH was in fact being sold by two of the sweetest old ladies ever.
I decided that was my 'mill...and we paid the ladies. But by the time the two of us had strained and stretched and hauled the treadmill up their stairs, out of their house, down their driveway, and stuffed into the back of Todd's truck, I was inclined to ask them to pay US for equipment removal. But seeing as they were little old ladies, we just huffed and puffed and shook their hands and smiled and poured our now exhausted selves into the car to head home, just to do it all over again!
Luckily, getting it into our house and down the stairs to the basement was significantly easier than removal from little old ladies house. Since we were exhausted...and it was 10pm, we crashed early and I decided Thursday would be my first day on the Treadmill.
So Thursday evening I walked for a full hour while watching the results show from the first voting on this season of American Idol.
On Friday, I was feeling motivated, so I emailed my best runner friend, MOH Lori! I said "Ok, I wanna do a race with you". She was stoked. So she said she'd look into some upcoming races, and send me some options.
On Friday night, I did nothing. Sat on the couch.
On Saturday, I again, did nothing. More couch time.
On Sunday I decided I needed to get my butt in gear, so I did a quick 30 minute walk (with approximately 2-3 total minutes of jogging mixed in).
On Sunday night, I decided if I was going to get any good at this treadmill thing, that I needed to make this race thing a real goal.
Fortunately Lori could hear my silent pleading, and first thing Monday morning, she emailed me "Lace up your shoes! It's race time!". She found a 6K race mid-April and we were signing up.
I panicked. Seriously terrified. I emailed back "OMG. Kill me. You realize this means I have LESS than two months to figure out how to run!".
So, being the awesome (and organized!) friend that she is, she immediately sent me back a running plan. "Melis' plan for running a 5K in 6 weeks".
The schedule is awesome, and totally doable -- which was my first sigh of relief, knowing that what she had mapped out was attainable for me. A NON-Runner. Or rather, a NON-exerciser.
Well, Monday night was supposed to be night one of training, but we had already planned a girls night out at the Melting Pot (UM, DELICIOUS!), so I started "training" last night.
I did my first 4 miles walk/run combo. After 2 miles, my legs sort of went numb and it got so much easier. By the time I hit 4 miles, I could have kept up with the walk/run combo, but I was starving and hopped off to go eat dinner.
It was incredible to actually set a goal -- even though it was just a half-step in the hundreds of miles of training to come -- and actually reach it.
I felt so accomplished. Now I can't wait to get back on the 'Mill...and, when the time comes, begin running outdoors...and eventually complete my first race.
So in turn, I have a feeling that this little blog o'mine is going to start being flooded with training updates. Unless of course, I end up pregnant and have to quit running...
JUST KIDDING HUBS! AND MOM! No babies until AT LEAST after Race 1 is completed. I'd like to fit into my jeans before spilling over the top of them. :)
I decided I wanted a treadmill in the basement last Monday night. On Tuesday morning I searched Craigslist for cheap ones. Found a nice Reebok one for sale, and the minute I got home from work Tuesday evening, Todd and I went back out the door to check out the Reebok treadmill. Unfortunately when I tried it out, we found out that the belt stuck, causing me to jerk forward while walking. I had visions of myself slingshotting off the back of the treadmill if I ever tried to run on it, or even walk without holding on to the handrails, so we thanked them kindly, told a little white lie that we wanted to sleep on our decision, and hightailed it back home.
The next day, the Reebok treadmill was re-posted for $50 less, stating that the belt sticks when walking.
But my search was un-phased and on Wednesday I found a new posting for a treadmill a short distance from our house. So on my way home from work I called the Craigslist poster and asked if we could come by that evening to check it out. She said yes, so I called Todd and said "umm...i made an appointment to see a Treadmill tonight..." Not exactly how he wanted to spend another evening off of work, but we went to see the treadmill -- WHICH was in fact being sold by two of the sweetest old ladies ever.
I decided that was my 'mill...and we paid the ladies. But by the time the two of us had strained and stretched and hauled the treadmill up their stairs, out of their house, down their driveway, and stuffed into the back of Todd's truck, I was inclined to ask them to pay US for equipment removal. But seeing as they were little old ladies, we just huffed and puffed and shook their hands and smiled and poured our now exhausted selves into the car to head home, just to do it all over again!
Luckily, getting it into our house and down the stairs to the basement was significantly easier than removal from little old ladies house. Since we were exhausted...and it was 10pm, we crashed early and I decided Thursday would be my first day on the Treadmill.
So Thursday evening I walked for a full hour while watching the results show from the first voting on this season of American Idol.
On Friday, I was feeling motivated, so I emailed my best runner friend, MOH Lori! I said "Ok, I wanna do a race with you". She was stoked. So she said she'd look into some upcoming races, and send me some options.
On Friday night, I did nothing. Sat on the couch.
On Saturday, I again, did nothing. More couch time.
On Sunday I decided I needed to get my butt in gear, so I did a quick 30 minute walk (with approximately 2-3 total minutes of jogging mixed in).
On Sunday night, I decided if I was going to get any good at this treadmill thing, that I needed to make this race thing a real goal.
Fortunately Lori could hear my silent pleading, and first thing Monday morning, she emailed me "Lace up your shoes! It's race time!". She found a 6K race mid-April and we were signing up.
I panicked. Seriously terrified. I emailed back "OMG. Kill me. You realize this means I have LESS than two months to figure out how to run!".
So, being the awesome (and organized!) friend that she is, she immediately sent me back a running plan. "Melis' plan for running a 5K in 6 weeks".
The schedule is awesome, and totally doable -- which was my first sigh of relief, knowing that what she had mapped out was attainable for me. A NON-Runner. Or rather, a NON-exerciser.
Well, Monday night was supposed to be night one of training, but we had already planned a girls night out at the Melting Pot (UM, DELICIOUS!), so I started "training" last night.
I did my first 4 miles walk/run combo. After 2 miles, my legs sort of went numb and it got so much easier. By the time I hit 4 miles, I could have kept up with the walk/run combo, but I was starving and hopped off to go eat dinner.
It was incredible to actually set a goal -- even though it was just a half-step in the hundreds of miles of training to come -- and actually reach it.
I felt so accomplished. Now I can't wait to get back on the 'Mill...and, when the time comes, begin running outdoors...and eventually complete my first race.
So in turn, I have a feeling that this little blog o'mine is going to start being flooded with training updates. Unless of course, I end up pregnant and have to quit running...
JUST KIDDING HUBS! AND MOM! No babies until AT LEAST after Race 1 is completed. I'd like to fit into my jeans before spilling over the top of them. :)
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
My Car Guy
As I was driving to work yesterday, behind a completely incompetent Acura who's idea of traffic fun was to speed up to the bumper of the car in front of him, and quickly slam on his brakes, starting a chain reaction of brake lights down the left hand lane of 395, I heard that dreaded sound...the squeal of metal on metal, as my brakes cried out in agony at the pressing of my foot into the brake pedal.
Yup, my brake pads are down to the bone. And what was my very first thought upon hearing the squeal? "Shoot...I better call Dad and tell him my brake pads need to be changed".
You know how people always talk about taking their cars to their "car guy" when they have troubles? Well, Dad's my "car guy". From the very first time I ever positioned myself behind the wheel of my Dad's (which became my brother's and then mine) 1990 Gold Toyota 4Runner (you know, back when they made Toyota's strong and didn't recall all the parts), I never had to worry about a car problem. From dirt and dents to blown speakers and broken air conditioners, my dad fixed 'em all. He is a car genius. He can change the oil in any car -- no matter the make and model -- with one hand tied behind his back, blindfolded, while carrying on a conversation about the last Redskins game. As soon as the temperature outside reaches 50 degrees, Dad is outside fiddling with the cars, washing them, tuning them...you name it. You'd be amiss to find one of my dad's cars looking anything less than spotless...and oh, your check engine light just came on? He can probably tell you why.
So yesterday afternoon I shot an email to my dad to tell him about my sad, squealing brakes and ask what I should do. At first I thought he might tell me to ask my husband, since you know, I'm a big "married" girl now. I thought he might tell me to call the dealership. Or at the very worst, recommend I go to Jiffy Lube. But I should have never doubted his reply, because he responded with: "Have Todd go to the Advanced Auto and get a set of front disk brake pads for your car.....I can put them on this week end....supposed to be nice this week end."
While I have no idea what "front disk brake pads" are, and I kind of don't think Todd does either, I figured we could roam around Advanced Auto Parts and call my dad from the store for clarification.
Dad must have sensed my uncertainty (or rather my huge lack of excitement for going to the Auto store) because this morning, he emailed me "hmm...maybe I should just go buy the brake pads for you. I'll only charge you parts...labor is free". Needless to say, I took him up on the offer. And volunteered to compensate his labor with a little McDonald's Dollar Menu lunch.
Seriously -- I have THE BEST "car guy" ever. :)
Yup, my brake pads are down to the bone. And what was my very first thought upon hearing the squeal? "Shoot...I better call Dad and tell him my brake pads need to be changed".
You know how people always talk about taking their cars to their "car guy" when they have troubles? Well, Dad's my "car guy". From the very first time I ever positioned myself behind the wheel of my Dad's (which became my brother's and then mine) 1990 Gold Toyota 4Runner (you know, back when they made Toyota's strong and didn't recall all the parts), I never had to worry about a car problem. From dirt and dents to blown speakers and broken air conditioners, my dad fixed 'em all. He is a car genius. He can change the oil in any car -- no matter the make and model -- with one hand tied behind his back, blindfolded, while carrying on a conversation about the last Redskins game. As soon as the temperature outside reaches 50 degrees, Dad is outside fiddling with the cars, washing them, tuning them...you name it. You'd be amiss to find one of my dad's cars looking anything less than spotless...and oh, your check engine light just came on? He can probably tell you why.
So yesterday afternoon I shot an email to my dad to tell him about my sad, squealing brakes and ask what I should do. At first I thought he might tell me to ask my husband, since you know, I'm a big "married" girl now. I thought he might tell me to call the dealership. Or at the very worst, recommend I go to Jiffy Lube. But I should have never doubted his reply, because he responded with: "Have Todd go to the Advanced Auto and get a set of front disk brake pads for your car.....I can put them on this week end....supposed to be nice this week end."
While I have no idea what "front disk brake pads" are, and I kind of don't think Todd does either, I figured we could roam around Advanced Auto Parts and call my dad from the store for clarification.
Dad must have sensed my uncertainty (or rather my huge lack of excitement for going to the Auto store) because this morning, he emailed me "hmm...maybe I should just go buy the brake pads for you. I'll only charge you parts...labor is free". Needless to say, I took him up on the offer. And volunteered to compensate his labor with a little McDonald's Dollar Menu lunch.
Seriously -- I have THE BEST "car guy" ever. :)
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