Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be...

I owe you a story that I told you I would tell a week ago. Didn't happen. The story is about a marathon, my first marathon in fact. 

But before I delve into the fascinating deets, let me tell you about a new little non-link-up, link-up that I'm doing on Wednesdays called Whatever Wednesdays.


To spritz us with a little May spirit, Shay and Alissa came up with the idea to have a topic every Wednesday sent out by email a few days before, which we all would then blog about. 
No link-ups. Just writing. Easy peasy!

Today's topic: firsts.

Be cool and join in by emailing And if you're already in the pack, make sure to leave a comment below so I can come over and have a looksy!


When people ask if I ran a marathon, I become a shifty little critter, since I can't truly do that term justice. I make it clear that I completed a marathon, and while I ran the vast majority of the way, my pace might not actually fit the running category. To prove my point, I tell this little tale...

Marathons bring interesting people. Lots of runners (obviously), some walkers and some people who like to be noticed, like those dressed as the Village People or juggling balls while they run. At the beginning of my race, in the midst of thousands of people, I passed one such person, a juggler, and jovially told my friend that at least we could beat him. I mean, please. He's juggling. We merrily trotted away, one foot in front of the other.

Until it truly became one foot in front of the other. For miles. I'm talking, I hit the wall at 17 miles and never got out. Those bricks were smacking me in the face, my feet were cement, and my mind was just screaming. I hated life, I hated the world, I hated every. single. choice I had made that got me there. And I really, super hated the fact that I had 9 miles to go. So one foot in front of the other it was for what was truly an excruciating distance.

When I heard that hope was right around the corner, a fire lit inside me and I ran. I truly ran, sprinting as hard as my legs could pump at this point. Around the bend I went, the curve that just never seemed to end, until I ended up in a tunnel that clearly was not the finish line. And I saw up ahead the 26 mile marker, meaning I had about a quarter mile left, or what I believed I had left about half a mile ago. Slowing, my lungs started screaming for oxygen, and that dang sports induced asthma that I so rarely got jumped on board my train.

So there I was, fighting to breathe, walking for the first time in miles, seriously contemplating sitting down with about .2 miles to go because I just couldn't fight the frustration and tears. Mind over matter though friends, mind over matter. That's what gets you through those last 6 miles. And as my mind took control and I went back to trudging my slug of a body to the finish line, a voice rang out on the loud speaker: "And here he is now! The juggling man!!!"

He beat me. The man juggled, JUGGLED, the entire 26.2 miles while RUNNING, and he beat me. And to pour salt in that danged wound, he made sure to beat me by just enough that I would hear it announced. Bastard. That's all I have to say to you juggling man. You're a mean, mean man. And don't you be thinkin' my tears at the end were 'cause you beat me. No sir! I just had a bug in my eye. (And pained toenails and knees and lungs and cells.)

So friends. My message to you in all of this is please, for the good of mankind and the hearts of us slower-paced folk, do not let your kids grow up to be juggling runners.


Friday, June 14, 2013


Just a few snapshots of the goings-on in our lives lately. We got to enjoy a whirlwind vacation when Andrea visited, running around town experiencing every possible Austin delight we could think of. Walks, water, hills, and wildlife. Have you ever heard a peacock screech?! They're like the little swarming raptors in Jurassic Park, only a little more cat-noise-esque. Dex was luckily unmuffed by all the comotion, and sadly didn't get to meet the overly friendly squirrel. All in all, the perfect start to a busy summer.

Hope yours has been just as promising!

**And those other stories that I promised last Friday?? They'll come, they'll come.**

Monday, June 10, 2013

Cat Lady: A Night with Cake

A story having to do with Cake (as in our Halloween costume muse.)

Friends. A few years ago I met John McCrea (the lead singer of Cake), and it all started with a homeless woman. Well, really, it started with a concert at Stubbs with Cake as the headliner, but you know. That led us to this homeless woman.

She was rough, older, sitting in a wheelchair, and hungry, or so she said. When she asked for money for food, I offered her a hot piece of pizza. She accepted, I bought, and upon bringing it back to her simply heard, "Where's mah drink?!"


There were crickets for a few seconds as I tried to slap my jaw back up on my face.

I was not pleased, to say the least. And neither was she when I snatched that pizza right back informing her that the proper response was "thank you." I still get a little fumey thinking about this. But my stern talking to was clearly the miracle she needed in life, because she got right out of that wheelchair, gave me the stink eye, and pushed it away on her own two feet. A real pizza miracle I tell ya.

So anyway, there I was, pie in hand and out on the street. I don't eat dairy, so devouring that yummy slice wasn't an option. My beau had abandoned me for a bar, so he wasn't an option. And I was all alone. It was at this moment I saw him: the stray cat. Skinny and meowing and just the compadre I needed to wash the anger towards mean non-crippled lady away. I sat on the curb, he hid under a car, and we bonded via some mozzarella and tomato sauce.

And as I sat on my curb feeding this fine feline friend his first pizza there was a yell asking if I was alright. I turned to acknowledge that I can in fact have human interactions, and, you guessed it, there stood Cake. Walking to their hotel.

I played it cool. Just another night.

"Yeah, I'm good. Not drunk. Or crazy. You know, just giving this cat some pizza."

They smiled. I smiled. We talked about saving animals and the world. I asked why they skipped a popular song, John responded, and our rendezvous was over. I had just met Cake.

Since the cat didn't quite understand the excitement of that moment, I wrapped up our little furry heart-to-heart and headed to the others, who of course were floored that I met them in such a *ahem* random manner. This led to a drink for some story telling, which led to a new bar for a change of scene, which led to another beer to relive the night. And there we were: at a tiny, empty bar on a Wednesday night.

Believing that the night had peaked, I was getting ready to pack it up when I turned around and heard, "Hi! Cat lady! Hey... CAT LADY!!"

Yes. I had just been called "Cat Lady" by a person of fame. Not once, mind you, but twice. I mean, on one hand, he was talking to me. And on the other? He called me "Cat Lady." CAT. LADY. Thanks John. I'd like to say I'll forgive you for that one, but no can do. That's a low blow for a girl under, let's say, fifty? Or maybe just any age. I think I'll go with that.

Luckily though, this less than flattering greeting was just what was needed to break the ice for the evening ahead, and what an evening it was. Little mouthed John McCrea shut that bar down with us, letting us teach him dart games and plan out album covers. He was opinionated; he was a bit arrogant; and he was fun. He signed our poster and we signed his. We bid farewell as I gave him my Facebook info, knowing full well that we would never be friends but also knowing that deep down, Austin would always bring back the pepperoni-filled purr of his dear friend... "Cat Lady."


Friday, June 7, 2013

I Say Liebster, You Say Biebster!

Liebster, Biebster, LIEBSTER.... BIEBSTER!!

But no fear, my friends. Though a Liebster winner I may be, a Biebster I am not.

For those of you not in the know, a Liebster is an award given from bloggers to bloggers with less than 200 followers. It is meant to bring light to lesser known blogs that we read and love and to give a little blogger pat-on-the-back via this screen. So I was touched to be nominated by not only one but five lovely ladies. I think this might have happened since I shut down the computer and didn't complete the first one quickly, thus not letting the others know that I'm on board already, but hey! I'll take it.

So before I get going, make sure to check out these wonderful chicaroos. Each blog is as unique as the writer behind it. Thank you friends for thinking of me!

>> Rules <<

1.  Thank the bloggers with their link. 
2.  Post 11 random facts about yourself.
3.  Answer the 11 questions set for you.
4.  Choose 11 blogs that inspire you with under 200 followers and link their pages to your post.  
5.  Create 11 questions for them.
6.  Inform your nominees. 

Ok... I'm not going to answer all 55 questions that I've amassed. I'm going to pick 11 and then pass 11 more on to you. Mmm'kay? kay. 

>> 11 Random Facts <<

1.  I don't have a high school diploma or GED but...
2.  I still graduated from college with a 4.0, 7.5 years later.
3.  My tongue can touch my nose.
4.  Last Friday night you could find me at Lance Armstrong's house, partying it up for fifth grade graduation. Though if you have snapchat, you already know this little gem, a little too well.
5.  I was a used carsalesman. Just to make my mom rue her words from when I was little. 
6.  I have two tattoos. Believe on my foot and love on my hip. 
7.  I have completed one marathon.
8.  I have a dual citizenship- US and the UK. 
9.  A story to come Monday having to do with Cake. (Our Halloween costume Cake.) 
10. A story to come on Tuesday having to do with the marathon. 
11. A story to come on Wednesday having to do with Johns Hopkins. 

>> Questions <<

1. Favorite book?  
EASY. It's a series of 7. 

2. Dream vacation?  
Australia. I really, really want to go have a month or two in Australia riding kangaroos and such. 

3. Favorite food?  
Cereal, day and night baby. 

4. One future goal.  
To have some connection with the water- a lake house, a boat, a dock. Anything. 

5. City or country? 
City, unless it's my lake house. Then country all the way. 

6. How would you explain your basic life philosophy?
Do good. Be kind. If you think you might regret something, don't do it. If you think you might regret not doing something, then do. Enjoy life and smile. Help others. Help the environment. Just make the world a more beautiful place in every possible way. 

7. Favorite recipe?  
Butterscotch brownies are my go to dessert and they never last over here. 

8. If you could try out any job for a day, what would you try? 
An OB/GYN. Part of me still aches to be one, but I honestly have no idea what it fully entails and am certainly not ready to commit my life and money to becoming one with that being the case. (or a NICU nurse. They are superstars.)

9. What's the best decision you ever made? 
Moving to Austin.

10. If you could spend a day with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be? 
My grandmother. I miss her so. 

11. Who are your celebrity crushes? 
Keith Urban, Leonardo DiCaprio, Derek Shepherd on Grey's (not the actor... literally the character), and to round off with a girl-crush, Rachel McAdams. 

WHEW. And with that I'm done. Out. No more. 

Plus I'm gonna break the rules a bit and give you the same questions listed above because that's what I can handle. And because this post needs to end. 

And the nominees are.... *drumroll please*...


Wednesday, June 5, 2013

These Feet Were Made For Walkin'

I've had some much needed detox after the May challenge. The kind that actually took me out into the world, exploring the sights and sounds and heat of Austin. It's been grand, but I've missed this little space all the same. The challenge in May created such a fantastic community that now, without our daily posts, I'm feeling a bit of a hole. I miss you ladies. I'll eventually figure out this whole blogging and living balance.

In the meantime, I'll keep enjoying the little nugget, who's not quite so little anymore.

Take a peak at the following:

{excuse me for the hyena-esque cackle at the end. i'm not one to contain excitement well.}

And so dawns a new decade of babydom. Time to batten down the hatches, P-man.