There aren’t going to be any photos embedded in this post, and I think that’s really for the best.

So first off, how are you guys?  Hope you could glean something from the other days’ post on hydration.   I definitely am still on the hunt for a canteen that is a little larger than the Yeti, but prettier.  Sorry Yeti, I really do love you, you’re just not very feminine.  And I need all the help I can get.  I am just not that cute lately.  Well sometimes, but not today.  Today I just stretched a tee over the bump, and let me tell you what, that does not do anyone any favors.  Anyhoo, let me know if you have any suggestions.  I’m kind of eyeing the Corksicle 60-oz, or maybe even the Hyrdoflask?  I would love to hear what your thoughts are on these, or if you have another suggestion!  Think sustainable people!  No plastic water bottles if I can help it!

So after a loooong day on Tuesday.  And I mean long, cause I got up for 6am to practice the newest Body Pump release with a few folks, and then I came home and napped, headed into work, and then headed back OUT to a work event, I was not feeling very social.  The event ended up being much better than I thought it was – I mostly don’t want to socialize because I feel big and fat and I don’t drink obviously, but it was great, and there was food left over for us to take.

I took some home to Austin, and played Pokemon in the Uber the entire ride home.  But when I came into the house, it hit me.  The smell of like, a literal animal shelter absolutely slapped me in the face.  I was scared to look, and I peeked around the back of the couch, and the best way I could describe what I saw was that there was an absolutely atomic explosion.  All over the floor.  Over pretty much, every square inch of the floor.

I called Austin out to help me assess/recover the great room area, and the look on his face confirmed how bad it was.  I put Coco out (we determined pretty early on she was responsible), and started to clean up.  Until we realized that Coco probably needed some cleaning up too.

I grabbed a thingie of baby wipes (thanks kid), we put her in the bathtub, Austin sort of held her down, and we tried to scrub her.  Until we realize that the situation at hand sort of called for scissors.

Side note: I am really sorry, I am trying to describe this without going into a really vile level of detail.  

So I grabbed scissors, all the while Coco was miserably attempting to nip at Austin with the remaining teeth she has, and set about cutting out some of the more problematic areas on her tail.  Luckily, poodles don’t shed, and her hair grows like a crazy person’s, so she looks just fine.  In the process of all of that, we accidentally also turned on the shower, so mid-scrub/cut, water starting pouring onto both of our heads.

We topped it off by putting Coco BACK outside, and then mopping for a decade.

Austin didn’t really want the dinner I brought home after that.  I don’t blame him.  Not one bit.

Please, for the love of all things holy, tell me about your pets.  And tell me you didn’t spend your Tuesday night scrubbing their butts. 

(Responsible) Pet Ownership

Two Saturdays ago, I peeked out into the yard and noticed a large black pinscher mix in the yard.  I was on the porch, and thankfully, Coco wasn’t outside with me because the dog seemed to be truly unhappy that I was in her space.  I’m assuming her, I could be completely wrong.  Anyhoo, so I looked at her, she looked at me, and she began to growl and bark, seemingly guarding my own yard against me.

I put two and two together, and realized the dog belonged to a neighbor.  We’d had problems with these dogs before.  Often, when we’re working out in the yard, the dogs will run back and forth behind their fence, barking and growling.  It’s always made me nervous, but at the same time, I’ve trusted in the fence to hold the dogs back.

So the dog shows up in the yard, very unhappy to see me.  I sort of squealed for Austin, who was at work in the office.

“Babe!  Babe!  There’s a black dog in the yard!”

I heard him scramble to his feet, and run onto the porch where I was.  The dog continued to be nasty, but didn’t get any closer.  And as suddenly as the dog appeared, I heard a female voice call the dog back, and the dog was gone.  I was a bit rattled, but didn’t think much of it.

On Saturday, prior to me running around in the State Park, I let Coco out.  She’s old and addled with anxiety so she won’t go far.  And just as soon as I let her out, she turned around and began pounding the door.  I looked, and right behind here was his big black dog.  This time, mere feet from the door.

“Babe!  That dog is back!”

Austin was pissed.  The dog was pissed.  So he slipped by the dog, and went to the neighbor’s door to knock and ask them to bring their dog inside and not let it come back.  And of course, no one was home.

We were at a loss.  The dog was just being a dog, but was a potential danger to me, but more so to Coco, who, despite her wild amount of adorableness, is a senior dog, and would be killed.  I mean, she has like four teeth (we had to get a few pulled when we got her for her health), and that bitch had a full mouthful of teeth from what I could tell.  We shouldn’t have to deal with someone else’s dog coming into our yard where we pay our mortgage to make us afraid.

We called an officer down, who pounded on the door.  They first ignored him, and opened when they realized it was an officer of the law.  The officer asked us if we wanted to witness a citation, but we declined, hoping that the officer coming around would be enough to get the message.  But in reality, I’m not afraid of a lot, and I’m afraid that the dog will attack me, or worse, Coco.  I can take care of myself, but I’m supposed to care for Coco.  I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her.

I’m not sure what to do.  I’m hoping the neighbors got the hint, and it won’t be an issue.  But I have some nagging worry that every time I’m out in the yard, that dog will show up.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this except to express my discomfort.  I’m uncomfortable with this situation, but don’t want the dog “punished” necessarily, but I need for them to step up.  I don’t want to do anything that will get that dog sent to the shelter, but I can’t be comfortable with her running around.

What do you guys think?

Coffee Date

Have you guys ever met my Jesus Shaves mug?

Jesus ShavesIt’s a mug that I purchased from this adorable shop in Cameron Village.  My mom hates it, but the way it works is that when you pour hot liquids in it, Jesus’ beard comes off and he becomes fresh-faced and clean-shaven.  People either think it’s hysterical, or they tell me I’m a heathen like my mom did.  But I honestly think that Jesus has a sense of humor and would quite enjoy a mug where he looks like he’s ready to take on any job interview that may come his way.

Let’s go on a coffee date, with my Jesus shaves mug in tow.

If I were on a coffee date, I would tell you: 

  • My pets are driving me up the wall.  I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I was asleep on the couch in the great room in the house, and when I woke up, I discovered that the entirety of one of the pet’s stomach linings had been emptied onto the couch.  I went into hysterics.  I called Austin, my voice rose about 2 octaves, and Austin had to purchase a little spot cleaner for me to fix the couch.  Verdict?  I think I’m going to have to replace that couch.  Hysterics.
  • I am doing well with some of the goals I’ve set for myself and outlined, as well as some of the goals I’ve started with myself last year.  One thing that has driven me nuts about myself is that sometimes, I put things off because I can always just “do it later”.  I’ve taken things more by the horns over the last few weeks, and it’s helped a lot with my productivity.  I like it.
  • I’m taking a break from drinking.  I drank a lot the week of my wedding back in August, the week of my sister’s wedding in December, and on New Year’s Eve.  I’m sort of over being hungover, with my GI issues, it’s not good for me.  I’m taking a break.  I’m not sure how long I’m gone for, but long enough to clean out my system is awesome.
  • I’m wondering about this winter.  I’m training for RnR, the full, in April, and I’m just wondering if the winter we have this year will be anything like last year’s.  Because ice storms may make things just a tad tricky.
  • I got these tights…

Sparkle TightsAfter I spotted the gold version on Amanda’s blog.  They’re on the clearance rack at Lululemon, so go run and grab them quick if you think you can handle them.  For me even, they’re pretty wild, but they’re interesting to look at, so I’m just gonna go with them.

  • I’m playing with the idea of an Ultra Marathon, or a 12-hour race around the time of my marathon in April.  I’m not even sure what this preoccupation with the challenge of the event is, other than I read a bunch of Dean Karnazes’ books last year, and the idea of an ultra seemed ridiculous…but almost ridiculous enough for me to do it.
  • I want to go to Greece for our honeymoon.  I got this idea in my head after I read The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head for like 10-15 years now.  I’m checking on prices and rates for us to be able to head there in like August or September.

What would you tell me if we were on a coffee date?  ❤

Don’t get pets.

So today, it was a little cooler in North Carolina so I met up with some friends to go running on the trails in Umstead.

I like trail running because it’s a lot cooler, and that’s really important.  I spent enough time on the treadmill all over this past heinous winter, so I have yet to torture myself in that manner.  Plus no good shows are really on telly right now so I have no interest in staring at the creepy trainer in the gym who wears a sport coat over his windbreaker pants.  (Not kidding).

photo (8)Even though I’m getting really close to the wedding (2 months exactly as I write this), I’m really starting to get the itch to race again, and I’m really really dead set on making sure I don’t lose any fitness even though it’s gonna be hot as hell this summer if last week is any indication.  I feel like the little incident with the Greensboro Marathon could have been avoided had I done better with training in the heat of the summer.  As of right now, all I have planned is Ragnar in Vegas with the Bondi Band girls, and I’m starting to really warm to the idea of a trail race or to an ultra either in the late fall, or in the spring.  I’ve sort of had my eye on this Badwater Race in Cape Fear in March.  I think I want to do something like this because when I prove to myself that I can do crazy physical things, I can do amazing things mentally and in my work life.  Maybe I’m just crazy.

Don’t get pets.

So, as of this marriage, I am a stepmother to a large cat named Chester, and mom to Martin, the orange cat, and Coco, the grey poodle.  I love my pets so much, they make my life happy.  But my honest advice to you is if you like your house clean, do not get pets.

I am constantly vacuuming, cleaning up someone’s barf, or worse, steaming the carpet of Coco’s pee (the worst ever).  So I’d steamed just the other day, and I look over tonight and Martin, the orange cat, is literally sloshing like 89 gallons of water onto the carpet that I’ve just cleaned.

I can’t even dignify this orange cat’s actions with anything, so I will advise you.

Unless you want to clean all day and night.

Don’t get pets.

Any pets?

Have you ever done an Ultra?  Thought about it?

Have you voted yet? Please???!


So over the weekend, we finally took Coco in for her comprehensive exam, because of how we got her.

So the way I got Coco (if you haven’t been around) was that a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend decided that they no longer wanted Coco, and with that, decided that they were going to take her to the pound.  I heard that, and could not let that happen, and sight unseen, agreed to take her in.  She was incredibly well-behaved, sweet, and got along well with my cat, so I had no issue.  Her worst problem is that sometimes, when I don’t take her out every second of the day, she’ll have a little accident on the carpet, which sparked the investment in the steam cleaner.

photo 1We took her in, and found out a few things about my dear girl.

For one, she’s never had doggie dental care, and is going to have some teeth pulled.  She had a few teeth broken, and is potentially in pain because of this.  Secondly, she has a wee bit of an infection in one of her ears.  And third, we’re watching a little bump on her chest which is probably just a fatty deposit.  Whew!

photo 2The moral of the story?  Send my little girl all your good vibes, because I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Coco has to live forever.  Secondly, take care of your pets.  It hurts me that my poor girl has never gotten some of these things that she needs and is now suffering as a result.

Okay, now tell me about your pets!

Reasons why your parents wouldn’t let you have a dog as a kid.

This absolutely adorable ball of light came into our lives a few weeks ago.

photo 2

Between her, my husband-to-be, and my orange cat, I’m not really quite sure where more joy could come into my life.  But with that absolute bliss, comes all the work of having a dog.  And now, it kind of makes sense why, when we all were kids, our parents bitched and moaned and complained whenever we asked for a dog.  And here it is.

I’m in love with Coco, but she is like having a little being to care for.  Here’s why your parents wouldn’t let you get a dog as a kid.  They didn’t want to do all this stuff.

  1. You have to have that dog on a regular food/bathroom schedule or they will poop on your floor.  I love this dog.  But if I don’t wake up early and walk her, feed her then walk her, leave on my lunch break and walk her, and promptly walk her after I work, I will have a poopy surprise on the floor.
  2. Your dog is expensive!  Luckily, when my precious fur baby came to us, she was fixed and was already microchipped, which can cost you close to $300.  But between her food, her clothes (yes, little girl wears a jacket), and her snacks, I spend extra money on her each week to make sure that she knows she is loved, and is allowed to have treats.
  3. You have to vacuum multiple times a week to keep fur from getting everywhere.  Coco sleeps on the edge of the bed, and rolls around on the carpet all day.  In order to prevent the situation from becoming a hoarders stinky house situation, I’m vacuuming constantly, and making sure that fur isn’t collecting in every crevice of the house.  I’m also really really excited to buy a house with my husband-to-be that doesn’t involve carpets because at least I can roomba fur, right?
  4. You have to pick up poop with only a bag between the poop and your hand.  I live in a beautiful apartment complex, and in order to be courteous to my neighbors, I take little baggies out with me when I walk her, and pick up her poop when she goes.  There’s really almost nothing more disgusting than watching your dog squat, then scooping up her hot, steaming poo with your plastic hand.

But despite all this hard work, I cannot stress enough how much joy this dog has brought to my life.  But Mom and Dad, I totally get it.

What surprised you about having a pet?  


By now, I’m absolutely sure you’ve met the newest member of the fam.

Martin, post-vet to this day, he remains one of the most relaxed animals I’ve ever taken to the vet.

Martin, or Marlon, as he chooses to go by sometimes (Martin is very inspired by the works of the Jackson 5, and assumes the identity of one of the littler brothers,) has been nothing short of an absolute blessing in my home.  He’s cute, he’s sweet, and he’s a great lap cat, so even as I write to you, he’s sitting, watching, and purring in my lap.  But as a stray, he came in with a dirty secret.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Martin came to me as a stray.  Austin’s family got us the hookup, and Austin went and picked him up the weekend I was gone in New York that my grandmother passed.  It was such a sweet surprise to come home from a draining weekend to little Martin.  But!  I discovered Martin’s (Marlon’s) dirty secret.

I was petting him when I kinda noticed he was scratching a good bit.

Like, really good.

I flipped him over, where he was all white?

Fleas!  Left and friggin right, he had fleas everywhere.

I don’t do well with a few things.  NFL.  Fantasy football.  Lice.  Mushrooms.  And fleas, evidently, I have no tolerance for.  And the fleas sent me into a cleaning tailspin.

I tried Frontline.  Wasn’t working.  (Come to find out, fleas are kind of resistant to it). And finally, I called the vet.  Little Martin needed his kitten stuff anyways, so it was time.  And they told me I had to bathe him.  Have you ever tried bathing a cat?  It was really fun, lemme tell ya, and I don’t have vision anymore because he scratched both my eyes out when I dunked him in the sink.  While he ran around, traumatized, post-bath, I salted every soft surface in my home and vacuumed. And finally, I used this disgusting invention called a flea comb to literally comb the little parasites off my dear Little Martin.

I’m still hopelessly in love with my cat, and at the same time, terrified that there’s a nest of fleas in my hair.  At any rate, I think we got his fleas under control with a dose of Revolution, that bath from the depths of hell, and a thorough scrubdown of the home.  Ah, to be a pet owner!


I was kind of an anxious child.

Let me back it up.  So along with all of these absolutely horrifying stories of school shootings, comes the irritating habit of every television personality, person with a Facebook account, or local news channels pointing the finger at everything to blame, because it’s too much work to think about a culmination of factors, both societal and personal, have made this kid do what he’s done.

And antidepressants have taken the fall far too many times for my liking.

I was sort of an anxious child.  And sort of is a the under exaggeration of the century.  Little things would completely send me into a tailspin.  I cried and flopped around like a fool every time our family dog would run away, once, only for moments until my mom found her destroying a neighbors wading pool.  I once hyperventilated so badly the fire trucks had to be called to like, make sure I wasn’t going to die right then and there.  It’s kind of why I love animals, dogs in particular.  Their presence is calming to me.  Chihuahuas because they’re anxious like I am.  They’re thin, they’re little, they shake when they get scared.  They’re also ridiculously smiley, and in general, really good natured.  I’m like that chick in ‘7 Pounds,’ with the Great Dane?  They have heart problems, she had heart problems, it all worked out.


So when I graduated undergrad in 2008, I was struggling.  I was in the wrong relationship.  I was graduating.  I had no money.  I was kinda fat.  I was to be starting graduate school with no money and no place to live.  It was a lot for a naturally anxious kid to handle!  And I hadn’t discovered working out and taking care of myself yet.  I had this perpetual lump in my throat. It was a hot sizzling mess.

Everything came to a head for me when, after a day of fun visiting art museums and things with aforementioned boy, I came home, and just cried into his lap.  I didn’t know what it was, or why, but the tears just kept rolling.  I’m sure the poor thing was really confused, he wasn’t any sort of trained therapist, and I wasn’t either, yet.  Eventually, after a few of these crying jags, I paid a visit to a doctor, who prescribed me Celexa.  And it was about a year, between the Celexa, the loss of about 40ish pounds, Zumba, running, yoga, burning sage, and not taking everything quite so seriously, that I began to feel like the person who was hidden beneath layers and layers and layers of depression-smog.

Did I turn violent and postal after I started Celexa?  No, quite the opposite.  Do most people on antidepressants?  Nope.  The vast majority of us are so ridiculously normal, you would never suspect us for being crazy.  (I kid, I kid!  We’re not nuts!)

Like I said before, I’m a little sick of antidepressants taking the fall.  Beecause.

1. If you’ve been  incorrectly prescribed antidepressants, like if you’re actually bipolar and you’ve been misdiagnosed as being depressed, that’s when bad things happen.  Not when normal folks, with a mild case, take their meds like they’re supposed to.

2. They do a lot of good things for a lot of people. I’m awesome.  I’m happy.  I’m chipper.  And it’s not just the Celexa, but it certainly helps.

3.  Don’t be a jerk.  If you’ve never taken them, don’t talk about them.  You never know who you’re sitting next to, and you could be insulting a loooot of people.  I’m super happy for you that you were able to beat your situation by meditating and breathing, but some of us chose an alternate route, and you should respect that.

Now, I’m off to supplement my lifestyle with some yoga before this marathon!  xoxo, ❤