Why Dogs Love Their Owners.

I a firm believer that yes, dogs CAN feel embarrasment. I am also a firm believer that dressing them up in AWESOME Halloween costumes is not a source of this embarrasment.

Dogs love Halloween and they love to be dressed up in costumes.

I am not allowed into Petco during the holidays anymore because I will buy any dog costume they sell in an XXL. The options are usually limited, but this has not stopped me from accumulating a rather large collection of costumes for my mutts.

They love it. They love posing for the camera. They love the attention they get when they wear them. (I will agree and say that they do not love the hats and things on their ears...but eh, I don't like hats either, and sometimes, they are just necessary. Suck it up Puppy.)

Pee, Pee and More Pee

Truthfully, other than my totally irrational (yet common) fears that something tragic will happen to my unborn child, the thing I think about most is when I will get to pee again. I am constantly in need of a place to pee.

I can tell you the exact distance (in either feet or minutes) it will take you to reach a bathroom at any given location in the great Houston metroplex. I can probably give you most of the stops on the way to Dallas and the DFW area as well, but don't test me.

I don't know how something so small has the ability to shrink my bladder so significantly but then I start thinking about what will happen when Cletus actually starts to reach full term...I'm totally screwed. I'm gonna buy stock in She-Wee. Maybe I can be their spokesperson!

I ran the Houston Half Marathon yesterday...although my name is not in the results . It's probably better this way...that way there is no proof of my slow time. Ha.

The weather was perfect racing weather for me - kind of warmish (about 80 for you northerners) and humid as hell. Everyone else seemed to be in a tizzy about it, but I heart the humidity. I'm pretty sure Cletus is gonna have gills. Part man, part fish! Almost like a mermaid, but not.

Nonetheless, I had a great race...not because I raced well, because, let's be honest, racing well when you are pregnant isn't all that smart of an idea...but I had a great race because it was great day. And frankly, all in all, I had a good run. I enjoyed my day thoroughly.

HOWEVER.

There's always a "however".

Before the race started - after the prayer, but before the Star Spangled Banner - I had to pee. Again. But I didn't want to wander too far from the start...so I just found a post and went behind that. I told the other guy standing there just to avoid eye contact and we would never talk about this again. Nevermind the 3,000 runners who just got up close and personal with my pasty rear, but as long as you avoid eye contact, they can't tag you on Facebook. GENIUS!

I was feeling pretty good, running with my pal Laura. We were both taking it easy - she is running New York in 2 weeks and I am pregnant (no way!?!) so we were just enjoying the day. I found a bush to pee behind around mile 2...and again around mile 3.5...and thus a trend was born. Laura bailed on me around mile 5 (she wasn't feeling so hot) and I was on my own...peeing on the side of the road of a race is way better when you have a buddy, btw.

I peed 7 times during the half marathon. 7 times. That's more than every 2 miles. No wonder my time was 2 hours and 20 minutes even though I felt like I was running a decent pace. Ha. And I had to refill the water bottle I was carrying at every other water station...

Over the course the race, I peed 7 times (7 times!), drank 3-16 ounce bottles of water, a FULL cup of Gatorade every 2 miles and 4 Clif-Blocs. I'm pretty sure this sets a world record of consumption at the half marathon level. I should have gotten an award.

All in all, I had a great race. Going slow wasn't easy, especially at the end when I felt like a rockstar and could have run 8 minute miles on the last few miles, but I know it was the right thing to do. And ultimately, I acheived my goal of finishing in time to get a shirt in my size (this race is notorious of running out of appropriate sizes). I got my shirt (even though it's ugly as sin), enjoyed my morning and felt like I challenged myself a little...and celebrated with crepes. There is little else more enjoyable than eating a delicious reward after a good race.

I love racing. And I love Cletus. Finding the balance is hard. Especially when I have to pee every 15 minutes.

My Name Is Christy And I Have A Problem.

You know those weird things you do when you hope no else is looking? Like, reenacting a conversation with someone out loud? Or picking your nose in the car? Or licking the mayonnaise jar? Or unbuttoning your pants before you are all the way in the bathroom stall? Yeah, those things. Those things are weird and socially unacceptable...but everyone does them. (I'd like to point out that mayonnaise is absolutely and complete repulsive and I neither own a jar of mayonnaise nor have I ever eaten mayonnaise just, but you get the idea).

Well, I have a problem.

Before I got pregnant, it wasn't really a problem...it was more of a feature. But now, it's kind of an issue.

I can pee anywhere.

No seriously. I can pee anywhere. I have no problems with dropping trou in broad daylight on the side of the road. I can pee in lakes. I can pee my pants during a run (if necessary to achieve a PR). I can pee my pants during a run if its pouring down rain because, hey, that's just efficient. I have never tried to pee in (or out of) a moving vehicle, but I am certain that should this necessity ever arise, I will rise to the occasion.

The only place I can't pee is while cycling. This is surprisingly kind of an issue when you have the smallest bladder on the planet and your ride partners don't want to stop every 10 miles.

Alas, this life skill has never let me down. The world is my urinal and I am thankful. Thus far in my pregnancy, this skill has been a bonus, because as we all know, pregnancy is a mean, mean trick that life plays on your bladder and you are constantly thirsty and constantly have to pee. On runs I can just run my normal routes and hope that I dn't get arrested when I pee in the yards of the politicians who live in River Oaks...it's a feature. No need to wait for the port-a-cans the homeless people stink up at the park. The world is out there and needs to be watered!

This feature has never let me down...until yesterday.

Yesterday I was running errands after work when, lo and behold, I had to pee (for the 97 thousandth time that day). As I walked between Michaels and REI, I crossed over a nice patch of grass with some shrubberies and I thought to myself, "Oh, I could just pee here". No, I really considered just peeing in the parking lot of the store.

WTF?

It's 6PM. It's light outside. I'm at a strip mall. It's a small shrubbery. It's illegal, inappropriate and THERE ARE BATHROOMS IN THE FRIGGIN STORE! (The bathrooms are probably in the back or the store and not nearly as convenient as this shrubbery, but seriously? Seriously?!)

Yeah, that was one of those stupid things you hope no one ever sees you do (or think). I was mortified that it even crossed my mind. Apparently I have been too free with my peeing experiences. My bladder is starting to forget what is appropriate and what is not. I think my bladder may need to be held back.

For the record, I did not pee in the parking lot. Nor did I pee in the store. I was too embarrassed. I got my new BOB Ironman Stroller from REI and ran out of there! First baby purchase = COMPLETE!

It's Ugly. It's REAL Ugly.

I am now 15 weeks pregnant (that's just over 3 months for those of you who don't count in weeks). I thought for sure by now I would have gotten these bigger hooters that everyone talks about, but alas, they are the same sad sacks they have always been. It's tragic really.

I also spent most of Tuesday lamenting my lack of baby bump. I bought a halloween costume a couple of months ago, that I thought would accomodate my growing waistline (I was going as Spock. Ha.), so that even if I just looked fat, I wouldn't be uncomfortable in it. But i've always wanted to be a Slutty German Barmaid. I've never been anything slutty for Halloween before and darn it, I WILL be a barmaid. Someday.

So, on Tuesday, after mucho lamenting, I packed up Tommy and we headed to Frankel's (Houston's best Halloween costume emporium) to get my Slutty German Barmaid costume. While there is still a chance I could get a belly between now and next weekend, there was a bigger chance that Frankel's would run out of the costume...and this was a risk I was not willing to take. So, a Slutty German Barmaid costume I know possess.

Alas, I got it home, once again, after much lamenting about my lack of belly, put it on and lo and behold, I have a belly. I wouldn't call it a Baby Bump per se, but I definitely have a FUPA where I did not have a FUPA before.

Slutty German Barmaids should not have FUPAs. Unless by some stroke of baby love, my FUPA disappears and is replaced by an actual baby bump, I will be singing Crocodile Rock dressed as Spock.

He can hit a mean falseto.

I Can't Resist

A dog video for your entertainment. The tortoise always wins. Stupid mutt.

How Do I Love Thee?

I love the Ironman. I LOVE the Ironman. Ironman is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. Beer is also this proof, but I am a wine girl, so eh, I'll stick with Ironman.

I know it's a for-profit corporation that gets free manual labor on race day and exploits the little guy, yada yada yada...it's like Wal-mart, except that unlike Wal-mart, I will allow you to participate.

I could never quite put into words why I preferred the Ironman branded races over other "iron-distances" races, but having attended Redman full iron distance race, I can safely say that the extra $400 is $400 well spent. Dude, just fork over the dough, get your Ironman branded gear and call it day. Call yourself an Ironman.



Kona was last weekend, my Superbowl, and I spent my evening, on my couch, watching the live feed, and crying as people crossed the finish line. Maybe its the pregnancy hormones. Maybe it's because I always cry when I talk about triathlon...I just love it!

I am super sad to be missing out on IMTexas in May...but Cletus and I will be there to cheer on Papa Blain (who I hope has as much fun as I had in Cozumel!) I'd like to point out that the only purchase we have made thus far for our growing child is the Ironman BOB Stroller. Yeah, it's a problem. I could care less about Gucci and Louis Vuitton, but brand it with an M-dot and I'll pay a fortune for it. Ridiculous.

We will be in Cozumel to cheer on all our friends this year at the race and I can only imagine the jealousy I will have for all of them. I'm green just thinking about it!

I'm not going to do the indoor triathlon this weekend...I'm just gonna suck it up and do the half marathon that Tommy is doing. It will be more fun anyway since everyone I know is doing it. Poor Tommy will finish in about 1:30...and then I will finish sometime before noon. Haha. He will have plenty of time to go get me some lunch before I finish. I miss my speed!!

Pottery Barn.

I'm embarrassed to admit it, but Pottery Barn threw up in my house. It's like that Friends episode where Rachel and Phoebe live together and Rachel decorates the entire house in Pottery Barn stuff, but has to lie to Phoebe - "oh, this is an antique apothecary table...not at all from Pottery Barn".

Yeah, Pottery Barn threw up in my house.

It's not that I am super into trendy stuff or actually decorate like the PB catalog suggests (although, I would if I could afford it slash had someone to dust all that crap), but it's more that the furniture is just my style. I like clean lines with a bit of whimsy. Basically, Pottery Barn is my furniture haven.

BTW - If you aren't currently reading this blog, you should be.

If I had the patience slash time, I would spend my Saturdays shopping all over town to find cool pieces to make my bedroom set...OR I could just go online and buy some PB stuff and spend the rest of my day lounging like the vegetable I desire to be. New furniture is just a click away!!

We have been meaning to buy new bedroom furniture for about 4 years. The stuff we are currently using is the hideous stuff that Tommy's ex-wife picked out. Not only is it the furniture that the ex-wife picked out (although, this bothers me not at all, it's a good excuse to convince Tommy that we NEED new furniture), but it's ugly and poorly made...and we have moved it approximately 14 times in 4 years. Crappy furniture just can't take that kind of abuse. So it's awful and in awful condition.

Alas, I have finally decided to bite the bullet and just buy the stupid Pottery Barn furniture I have loved for 4 years. I kept waiting for something better to come along so my house wouldn't be all Pottery Barn-ed out (I just don't respect myself!), but in 4 years, I still NEED that bed. It's gonna happen.

In other news, we will FINALLY be able to ditch our current crap...we broke the bed a few years ago (brown chicken brown cow!), but the ugly dressers are up for grabs. We will probably just leave them on the the curb...not sure anyone would buy them.

Phoebe, don't hate me. You know you love it. Darn you Pottery Barn and your overpriced crap!

Pregnancy Glow

I don't have it. I don't know anyone who has had it (sorry friends - I lied to your faces). I know it's still early for me to get it, but really, with all this acne, I just dont see how it would be possible anyway.

I'm a firm believer that the Pregnancy Glow is just a way to make formerly thin people feel better about themselves. It's like when you tell a bride it's good luck if it rains on her wedding day. It's not good luck. It just makes them feel better when it rains on their wedding day. Nevermind that the entire outdoor ceremony is ruined. Hey, it's good luck!

The sheer number of zits I have have to pop each day would challenge a teenagers counting skills. And if I do appear to be glowing, it's because I am as sweaty as a a marathoner...and while a marathoner may APPEAR to be glowing, trust me, they aren't. They are starving. Their cheeks are flushed from sheer starvation and dehydration. I'm sweaty and a flight of stairs is daunting.

I'm not glowing. And it's not good luck if it rains on your wedding day.

And if you say it one more time, I will shoot my next zit into your eye.

********************************

In other news, I found a triathlon that I can race! It's indoor, which is super lame, but that also means that I can do it, so that's super not lame!

Kona is this weekend which means I will be glued to my computer screen for most of the day watching the live feed.

I heard Cletus's heartbeat yesterday afternoon - 164bpm. Tommy heard it a few weeks ago, but the deaf often get delayed gratification. Alas, it has a heart and it beats. Very fastly. Yayy!!

Cat's Out of the Bag

Now that the cat is FINALLY out of the bag, I can gossip about all the joys and un-joys of being pregnant.

But let's be honest, the joys aren't all that funny, and people's happiness is generally sickening and irritating, so for now let's focus on the horror that is baby bedding.

We don't yet know the gender of our future child, but we do plan on finding out as soon as possible. Yes, I know it's one of life's great surprises, blah blah blah, but really, it's still a surprise when they tell you during the ultrasound. So even if you find out BEFORE that bundle of pooping joy is in your arms, it's STILL a surprise. Take that naysayers!

And since I don't tolerate surprises well anyway, it's better that I find out after a full nights sleep and without holding any precious cargo.

We will find out as soon as a weiner or lack thereof is visible. I'm pretty sure the 50% accuracy of the Chinese Gender Prediction chart has guessed me right anyway, so it's a moo point. A cow's opinion.

Regardless of Cletus's gender, I will likely go the neutral bedding/decor route, so I have been scouring the internet in search of baby bedding that doesn't make me want to hurl. And unfortunately, this is few and far between. Pair this search with morning sickness and I have spent a lot of time praying to the porcelain god.

In my search, I found a lot of this:

Even more of this:

And thank the good Lord, I saw very little of this:


The search continues, despite the efforts of Winnie the Pooh and Pastel Paint. I will overcome you!!

Tiger in the Tank!

It's true.

I am with child.
I have a tiger in my tank.
I'm knocked up.
I am harboring a fugitive.
I am developing a crotch parasite.
I have a bun in the oven.
I've been screwed.

Tommy and I found out on August 9th that not only do pregnancy tests NOT take 5 minutes to give a postive result, but that I am also pregnant.

I am addicted to pregnancy tests have been taking at least one a month for forever, much to Tommy's chagrin ("they're expensive!"). I can't help it. But on this particularly joyous day, the test did not stop at one pink line...but immediately (and I mean IMMEDIATELY) registered 2 pink lines. If I hadn't already peed in the toilet, I would have just peed my pants.

I called Tommy, he came home (where I presented him with two pee filled sticks...he was thrilled) and we went to dinner to celebrate and gossip about our impending bundle of joy...AHH!

The signs that I should have seen:

The first sign that indicated I might be pregnant is when ShopItToMe had a 1/2 off sale on skinny jeans and the only size they had in stock was mine. It was FATE! Of course I purchased them and took them to get them altered. Only fate would have you alter your first pair of skinny jeans on the day you find out you're pregnant. So now, of course, I can't return them. So, I've pretty much been wearing skinny jeans every single day and plan to squeeze myself into them until I can no longer suck in my gut anymore.

The second sign was that Kroger had Black Box wine on sale the previous weekend. Tommy and I, being the classy folk that we are, purchased 6 (yes, 6) boxes (yes, boxes) of wine (yes, that's 6 BOXES of wine), because well, they were on sale and if you buy 6 you get an additional 10% off.

The third sign was that I joined a 3rd gym the week prior to finding out I was "with child". Luckily, I joined this gym for it's pool and since I plan on swimming up until the day I give birth, this wasn't a terrible move...but lately I've been to disgustingly sick to even think about swimming. So I am a member of 3 gyms...and I haven't been to a single one of these gyms in the last 12 weeks.

And the fourth and final sign was that I accidentally purchased a pair of childrens shoes. I think this is the universe telling me that my child will be punk/grunge. This does not bode well for me.

Alas, despite all these signs, I was still surprised when that second pink line appeared on the stick. Nobody gets lucky enough to find 1/2 off skinny jeans or sales on wine all in the same week...unless they won't be able to use them. Damn you Universe!!

****************
Now for some rules:

Do not touch my belly. Unless I like you. But even then, it's best not to touch the belly. I will remove your arms with my teeth.

Do not use the words "preggo" or "preggy" or "hubby". Unless you are 5. If you are older than 5, it is time to learn to speak properly. Update: This also includes "preggers" and any other variations of fake words.

Do not tell me your labor horror stories. Not sure who you think you are helping here.
****************

In other news: When training for Ironman, I compared the training to pregnancy and the race to labor. The rules for me racing Ironman were similar to the rules listed above. No touching the belly, no "preggo" or "hubby", and no racing horror stories. So, so far, I'm right on the mark!!

But really, so far, it's been pretty similar. I'm on information overload, the result is still too far away to really grasp, I feel like total horse sh1t and I am exhausted. This is all pretty much like Ironman!

Speaking of Ironman, I doubt I will be racing IMTX in May. While I do planning on keeping up my volume (as much as possible), I have no intent of keeping it up to the level that would be required to complete an Ironman. In addition to that, after pushing a baby out of my vagina in April, I seriously doubt that sitting on a very small bike seat for 6+ hours in May will sound appealling. Soooo, that's in the toilet. I plan on appealling to the WTC to see if I can defer until 2012, but even then, I'm not sure I will be ready to race with an infant either. We will see!! Either way, Cletus the Fetus and I will be there on race day to cheer on Daddy Blain and all our friends!

War of the Roses.

Here in H-town, there is a morning radio show on 104.1 with hosts Roula and Ryan. I do not normally listen to 104.1 because the music is very teeny bopper and terrible. It's something Janelle would like. :) A little too much Justin Beiber for my tastes. But on Thursdays, magical, magical Thursdays, they do the War of the Roses.

War of the Roses is a segment where a woman (usually a woman, but it can be a man) calls in and fears her man is cheating on her. Roula then pretends to be a florist and calls the man to offer him a dozen long stem roses. When the man ultimately gives them to a woman other than his beloved, they get to air all their dirty laundry on the radio. And it is excellent.

Today, a man called in, concerned that his newly thin and attractive wife had spent the majority of the holiday weekend getting wasted with her girlfriends and was therefore too hungover to spend time with him and their 3 children. Roula called the wife, offered her a weekend getaway with a couples massage and asked the names that needed to be on a reservation. The wife asked if she could think about who she would want to bring. Poor husband. (I know I shouldn't get joy out of other's people misery, but normal people don't call radio shows to air their dirty laundry, so I'm over it) Obviously the husband was upset.

They began discussing why she didn't want to go out with him and it ultimately came down to the fact that he wears jean shorts.

She doesn't love him anymore because he wears jean shorts.

And has Doc Martens. (Which btw, I think are coming back in style. If you wait long enough...)

I immediately called Tommy and let him know that a call from Roula is in his future if he continues to sport the jorts. He was very unconcerned.

The Universe.

The universe is against me.

Today, I overslept because I accidentally set my alarm for 4:30PM instead of AM. I awoke at 6:15AM, fully refreshed for the day ahead. And missed my workout.

I took it in stride - obviously my body wanted more sleep. Darn!

I packed my gym bag with two options for the afternoon - I could either bike at a spin class or hit the pool.

I arrived at work only to realize that I forgot tennis shoes (I blame Tommy for cleaning the house and hiding my shoes in the garage, "where they belong". No good deed goes unpunished!). Sooo, cycling was out. Guess I'm going to the pool!

And then it rained all day. Which means the pool is closed. [shaking fist at Tropical Storm Hermoine]

3 attempts to work out today and all 3 were shot down. The universe obviously wants me to sit on the couch, eat a giant vat of ice cream, and call it day.

Done and done.

Dramatic Chipmunk

This is worth every single one of the 5 seconds.

I AM A WOMAN!!

A couple of weeks ago, I decided I wanted a pair of Chuck Taylors. These are not fancy shoes, in fact, most would consider them a shoe of leisure. A tennis shoe if you will.

I had no idea how difficult it would be to purchase these shoes.

I went online and searched around until I found the cheapest pair around - $18.99 @ Kohl's. I placed my order and waited patiently for them to arrive. When the box on my doorstep showed up, I was quickly realized the error of my ways when the delivery box was TEENY TINY. I had ordered Chuck Taylors fit for a 2 year old.

Awesome.

I loaded up my box, went to UPS and shipped them back with a nasty note indicating that NO WHERE did it indicate that these were childrens shoes.

So I went online again. Gave up the search for the cheapest pair and just went with the place where I could get free shipping. JCPenney's. Done and done. $39.99 and my Chuck Taylors are in the mail.

When they arrive, I am glad the box is a normal size but when I pull the shoes out, I think to myself, "man, these look huge", but try them on anyway. Sure enough, they are huge. I have just purchased myself a pair of MEN'S size 8 Chuck Taylors.

Excellent.

I now have 2 pairs of Chucks, none of which will fit any of the members of my family (dogs included)(I tried). I'm afraid to order online again...I've already wasted about $20 in shipping alone and I have nothing to show for it. Anyone know where I can find size 8 WOMEN'S Chuck Taylors?? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

Family Circus

A couple of family classics from the Bennett Family Story Book:

One time, my parents dog diarrhea'd in the living room while my parents were at work. They have a robotic vacuum that vacuums while they are away. Normally, this is a nice feature. On this particular day, however, with diarrhea in the middle of the room, vacuuming was not optimal. Roomba drug poop all over the house. Mom came home, saw the poop and promptly left with emergency plans for happy hour. She just giggled to herself when dad came home to the mess. Evil. Pure evil.

I love Kevin Smith. Heart him. Have loved all his movies and spent a lot of time in high school watching Mallrats and Clerks. When I heard about Chasing Amy, I just had to rent it. My dad had also heard how good it was, so we rented it together one night, made our popcorn and sat down to view. And then the opening scene was two women doing things to each other no father daughter combo should ever witness together. Dad promptly decided it was time to clean the kitchen.

At Thanksgiving one year, my mom decided to make homemade gravy. Now, while my mom can cook up a great many dishes, she is not the culinary wizard that I am (hahahaha)and the gravy turned out to look a lot more like diarrhea than gravy. It was lumpy, yet runny and a disturbing shade of brown. I, of course, found this to be absolutely hysterical and could not stop laughing. I was laughing so hard I was crying. I eventually had to remove myself from the Thanksgiving meal and eat alone in the other room. I was at least 23 when this happened. I shall never grow up.

When the blogging gets old, the old get older by blogging old ridiculous stories.

There is also the time my parents drank too much Franzia and locked me and my sister out of the house. Hahaha. Now THAT's a story that never gets old. My mom has lived in fear her whole life that I would tell everyone that story...muuuuhahahahaha. And I still turned out okay. Who knew?

Recluse.

I haven't been writting because I haven't really left my house much in the last few weeks. Therefore, I have nothing to write about. Sorry kiddos! I know you are tragically sad.

I've been hole-ing up in my casa because I just got tired from all the travelling and the working out and the blah! My grandma passed away and Tommy I drove to Dallas after work on a Friday, to Odessa on Monday after working from my parents house all day, and then back to Houston on Tuesday after the funeral. We both worked most of Monday and Tuesday, got back in town around 1am Tuesday night, worked Wed-Fri and then packed up to drive to New Orleans for the weekend. That's over 2000 miles of car trip, in one week, while working 40 hours, attending a funeral and a high school reunion. No wonder my face looked like a giant zit at the reunion.

Hence, I am exhausted. I don't want to get in the car to drive ANYWHERE anytime soon. We were supposed to go to Dallas this weekend for my first attempt at a 1:50 half marathon, but the thought of driving there makes me want to hurl a little, sooo, there are two bibs up for grabs if anyone wants them.

In other news, Tommy and I scored free 10th row seats on the first baseline to the Astros game. This game started off precariously when the beer man refused to serve me beer. I am 29 years old for crying out loud. Give me the dam beer. And then the baked potato line didn't have any cheese. WTF. What the hell kind of baseball game IS this?

But then things turned around.

I caught a ball!! Well, actually it landed in my chicken fingers (I WANTED a baked potato, but a potato without cheese, well, that's just sad) but I figure I can say that I caught it. But THEN the guy next to me leans over and asks if I have kids. I say no. He says he has a 6 year old and an 8 year old and can he have my ball. I hand it to him. 5 minutes later I ask for it back. Asshole didn't even bring his kids with him to the game. He can let his kids have a ball when he decides to bring them. What a jerk.

BUT THEN THINGS TURNED AROUND.

We got on the kiss cam. WHAT? This was approximately 2 seconds after I said there was no way we could be on the kiss cam. And then my friend called to tell me he saw me and I was famous.

Tommy wore his new fancy jersey (three men complemented him on it...I think I did good!) and I am now famous. Go me.

And then the next day we got to run the bases at the park.

BEST. WEEK. IN. BASEBALL. EVER.

But pretty much after that, I haven't left my house. I mean, how can you top that? You can't. And I'm not gonna try. I'm pooped and all I want to do is sleep in and go to the movies.

SAFETY FIRST!

In my extensive research, on company time, I determined that a spider is in fact both an insect and an arachnid. Arachnid is a sub-species of Insect.

Duh.

Safety is a number one priority at my office. Yes, I said, "at my office", where the most dangerous activity one can engage in is typing. Carpal tunnel is a real issue. Nonetheless, I spend an inappropriately large amount of my time filling out forms for safe working (such as: "Don't put your hands under the hot coffee water" and "Open doors slowly"). I fill out one of these forms weekly and then a larger, more intimidating form on a monthly basis.

I'm all for safety, but really, I work in an office. Any injuries I sustain, short of the refrigerator falling on me, are likely my fault at the whim of my stupidity.

But luckily for me, and the safety of all my colleagues, my company employs a Safety Man. His sole job is to write up safety reports on incidents that occur in the building. I assume he gets paid buckets of money for doing this job.

Last week, I recieved an 8 page presentation on a bug bite an employee recieved while at the office. In the presentation, the Safety Guy jumped back and forth from calling it a bug bite, an insect bite and a spider bite...I was so confused. Let's get the facts straight pal!! The verdict of the Root Cause Investigation (that I am sure took many an overtime hour) was that the victims cubicle was a filthy hell hole that probably harbored animals much worse than bugs. But because he was a filthy beast of a man, we were all forced to endure an 8 page slideshow presentation about his bug bite. A bug bite that just itched a little. It's not like it was a brown recluse bite or had severe swelling. No, it just itched. A little.

Are you kidding me??

Then, this week, I recieve a quick and dirty note about how the elevators have been recalled...and to just "be careful".

An itchy bug bite warrants 8 pages and a recalled elevator gets a quick snippet of an email??

I'll take the stairs.

Puppies!

Ah, the joys of dog ownership.

Dixie is a wonderful dog. She is cuddly and playful and pretty smart, although, at this point, she is more belligerent than anything else. Then again, most parents say their kids are pretty smart and the poor stupid kid can barely quack like a duck. So, who am I to speculate on the genius-ness of Dixie the Dog? She is probably dumber than a box of rocks.

And I have met some dumb rocks.

But so far her biggest issue is that she eats Don. Don doesn't seem to mind this, as he is very fluffy and probably doesn't even notice that she is his own personal grooming service. She eats him and pulls the excess hair off of him which would be great except that she is too dumb to spit it out...so it gets swallowed. Which then means Don's hair hits her stomach and digestive track, only to be pooped out in a giant Dixie the Dog sized terd. With hair in it. And if the terd comes out, but all the hair does not, then there is a giant terd hanging from her butt by a long string of Don's hair. And since Dixie does not possess opposable thumbs, the task of terd removal lies completely on the parents. Me.

So, on Tuesday, I donned a pair of plastic gloves and some paper towels and got about the task of terd removal.

Dixie was pleased to have this nuisance removed, but then, in her stupidity, she swallowed a giant hunk of Don.

Lovely. I'm almost certain she could get into Harvard.
Woe is me.

EL DIABLO!!

Life. It Happens.

To fill you in on my several week absence:

I signed up for Ironman Texas. Tommy signed up for Ironman Texas. Pretty much every triathlete we know signed up for Ironman Texas. The training will be very fun...but very cold. The race will be very fun...but very hot. I'm really looking forward to training with all my friends, racing in town and completing my second Ironman. The pressure is off this time...if I suck, I suck, but hey, I'm already an Ironman!! Who cares?!?!

We got to take a staycation over the 4th of July and it was so awesome. We took a cab downtown and stayed at the Four Seasons where we got a free upgrade to a pool side room. We spent the afternoons lounging by the pool, getting spritzed with Evian (wtf?!?) and ordering $14 margaritas (we only had 1). The best part of a vacation in town is that it's super easy to bring your own wine!

We came home to a new puppy - Dixie - that we were allowed to foster for a few days to decide if we wanted to adopt her (what a great option!) and of course, once we got adjusted to life with a puppy, we fell in love with her!
Dixie the Dog is here to stay.

As far as workouts go, we are trying to get back into it and get some consistency. My swimming is pretty much an epic fail...but I don't really know what I can expect when I only swim once a month. My biking is staying pretty consistent and I can't complain there. My running isn't going as well as I would like...but again, this is entirely because I haven't actually been running. I think my goal of completing a 1:50 half marathon is pretty much ridiculous at this point. That said, we participated in HRTC's BassAckWards Triathlon this past weekend and did really well...and had a blast. Swimming after biking and running is much harder than you would think.

And we hit up an Astro's game - thanks to Melissa - Tommy wore his new fancy jersey, I caught a ball AND we were on the KissCam. I mean, really? All in one day?!? (I think this was the ballpark apologizing for not serving me beer at the concession stand despite the fact that I am 29 years old and my ID looks JUST like me).

So, things are going well - I feel refreshed after our staycation and I am ready to tackle the world!! I just need to get home today so I can play with my puppies!!

HYPERVENTILATING!

OMG. Ironman is coming to Houston!

Ironman Texas will be in the Woodlands on May 21, 2011. Registration opens tomorrow and you can bet your bottom dollar that my finger will be poised over submit at precisely 12:01PM.

I'm too excited to sleep!