catheroominations

This morning I got up at o’dark thirty to do a trial workout with Team in Training. I haven’t had any flare-ups of my psoriatic arthritis for a couple of years, and I think I am done with ingrown toenails so now I really want to try and do a half marathon. Joining Team in Training (abbreviated as TNT, rather than tea-eye-tea for obvious reasons) will allow me to train correctly for a race, while raising money for Leukemia and Lymphoma research. Today was the first long run of the winter season, so I thought I’d check it out.

The captains separated everyone into groups and we had our choice of how far we wanted to run and what interval we wanted to do. I chose to run three miles, doing the run two minutes, walk one minute interval since I’m just getting back into the running thing. I aligned myself with some women who also looked new, and would hopefully not smoke me on the trail. I was able to keep an even pace, and talk during the running portions. When the three miles were over, I thought “that wasn’t so bad.” So, my race on Thanksgiving should be a piece of cake, since it’s just a 5K.

While we were on our run, one of the mentors was telling me how to avoid that second day soreness. She recommended ice baths. GAH! To me, a soak in the tub should be relaxing, warm, and comforting. But I will try anything if it means I can avoid the inability to sit down like a normal person. So when I got home, I put on my bathing suit, a sweatshirt and a scarf and ran the cold water into the bathtub. I went to the freezer and pulled out the tray of cubes from the ice maker. Daphne came into the bathroom, as she usually does int he mornings, when I am getting ready. She was sniffing around, looking for spiders to kill, and thought there might be one hiding the the bathtub. So, just like every other day, she jumped into the tub to investigate.

Poor Daph instantly tried to jump back out, but unable to grasp hold to anything with her claws, she was slipping and sliding and splashing water everywhere. She managed to fling herself out of the chilly water and make spastic puddles on the bathroom floor while making her tasmanian devilesque exit. I was howling with laughter and Matte could hear it, but didn’t know what had me going, until he saw the rabid and pissed off kitty fly into the living room.

The ice bath wasn’t so bad, actually. Yes, it was freezing, but it was also hilarious. Me in the tub bundled up in a sweatshirt, drinking a cup of hot cinnamon tea, while shivering and reading the Johnny-Depp-as-Sweeney-Todd cover story inEntertainment Weekly.

I think the frigid dip in the tub was less traumatic for me than it was for Daphne. But at least her muscles won’t be sore either.

My sister is a pastry chef. She makes cupcakes from scratch and decorates them with homemade icing to look like this:

Those are meringue sticks on top. Oh, and jimmies. Also, she added a light dusting of cocoa.

I am not a pastry chef. I make one cupcake (a huge one) from a box of mix and decorate it with Pillsbury frosting in a can to make it look like this:

Those are m&ms on top. Not the mini-sized ones. Those are full-sized m&ms. That is a dinner plate holding the cupcake.

My sister has a degree from the California Culinary Academy.
I have a book called Cooking for Dummies that my mom bought me.

My sister has taught cooking classes, and once assisted Martin Yan when he taught a class.
I like to watch the Food Network.

In her job, my sister got to meet Bono and Bill Clinton.
In my job, I got to meet the guy who delivers our office supplies.

My sister will soon start a new job, working under a former Top Chef contestant.
I like to watch Top Chef.

My sister is a professional. She bakes sober. And as such, her cupcakes rock.
Despite the warning “Don’t drink and bake”*, I plan to do just that tomorrow with Stacy and McGee and some other fabulous ladies who do not heed our governor’s advice. Perhaps some alcohol will reveal my hidden talents?

*In what movie was that line spoken?

I wasn’t going to.
I said I wouldn’t this year.
But.
I’ve gone and done it again.*

I have been uninspired to blog lately so I figured participating in NaBloPoMo would give me reason to post. Surely something will spark a post every single day for the next 30. Oy. I had planned to skip this year because I don’t want to post something just to post something. I don’t want to put up crap just to stick to my commitment to post every friggin’ single day. I do hope I won’t be posting about daily earthquakes, since I felt a noticeable aftershock yesterday around 4 pm. Yeah, we can be done with the earth shaking now, mmmkay?

Maybe I’ll write about my time on the treadmill on a given day, because that is riveting to read about, I know. But if my toes can avoid an arthritis attack, I should be good for my first race in 2 years on Thanksgiving morning. I didn’t sign up and pay $35 for the charity aspect, or for the camaraderie of running in a pack, or for health reasons. No. It’s about eating pumpkin pie with no guilt.

Blog posts this month might include a lot of complaining about having to think of something to write every day. I don’t want to resort to describing what I ate for lunch, or what color my socks are. I won’t resort to posting my grocery list or recount what cute thing my cat did that day (unless it’s even cuter than this).

Yes, it’s going to be a long month, people.

*Name the movie that quote is from.

Seen in the front yard of a house on Main St., Napa, California.

5.6 on the Richter scale. Damn thing almost broke our wine glasses!

It was one of those that you hear before you feel, and it lasted a long time. 10 seconds. It started, and seemed to let up and then got strong again. It didn’t feel like a rolling, more like a jerking, like when someone with too fat an ass bumps your chair while you are enjoying your meal in a fine dining establishment.

My sister called from San Francisco (although the epicenter was closer to San Jose) and said (and I quote) “holy f#%k!” She was watching one of her Oakland A’s bobbleheads bobble it’s head off during the quake.

I’ve been through earthquakes before, many times, including the one in 1989 which struck on October 17th…a TUESDAY! In OCTOBER! Coincidence? I don’t think so! AND? AND!!! It happened during the World Series which WOULD have been on tonight at the time of the quake if the Red Sox hadn’t swept it in 4. OOOh! Also, during the 1989 quake? I was sitting on the couch! Watching TV! I am telling you…NOT a coincidence! (Insert Twilight Zone music.)

Below is photographic evidence of the destruction in our apartment:

These guys fell down. Although, it looks like that one dude knocked down the purple lady. Perfect opportunity to steal her purse.

This green man got so scared, he passed out and fell off the shelf. Sadly, he didn’t land feet-first.

This angel was on the top shelf, and fell to the bottom. She is one of a set of 2 called “Sisters”. The two figures’ hands clasp together.

One angel is on the top shelf, but her companion is on the bottom shelf. I don’t know how she flew off one shelf then flew back into the bookcase. Probably being an angel had something to do with it.

10. I am lazy. Much too lazy to get out of bed at 2 am to feed someone.
9. I am selfish. Much too selfish to allow my sleep to be interrupted at 2 am to feed someone.
8. I believe eating a bowl of cereal for dinner is perfectly fine. Every night. Especially if the box has a toucan, rabbit, naval captain, or tiger on the box.
7. I think TV is awesome. And necessary. And there’s no such thing as too much of it. And my child would learn that.
6. Any child I brought into the world would not be pushed to participate in sports, and would therefore be chubby, ridiculed, and eventually fat and lazy when they grew up. And they would cry a lot about that. Even when they’re in their 30s.
5. That tantrum, screaming, and talking back stuff? Not for me.
4. Daphne would hate a baby. Also, she might try to eat it.
3. A product of my and Matte’s love would be much too stunning to look at and would make the other children feel inferior and ordinary.
2. We want to be the cool aunt and uncle who spoil the nephews because we have piles of cash and no one to spend it on.
1. Global warming.

Now, I need to put this on a t-shirt, because some people think that JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT MARRIED you want to have babies. And some of those people are annoyed when you sheepishly say “Oh, I don’t think we’ll have any,” as if it is written down somewhere that we were put on this earth to procreate or something! (Oh, it does say that somewhere? Ooops.)

When people say “just wait until you have kids,” it makes me want to say “OK!”, stop whatever it is I’m doing at the time, and stand perfectly still like a statue. Waiting forever. Because that is how long I would be waiting until I have kids. Sure, most of my friends who are married do have children and I am happy for them. Because that is what they want and my friends have adorable kids, of course, because <sarcasm> I am not friends with ugly people</sarcasm>. It’s about freedom and choice and what is best for the individual. People who want to have kids, do. People who don’t? Don’t. But sometimes they do, and their hearts melt once they see that sweet little face for the first time. I know this. I know I am missing out on the parenthood experience, but I don’t know what I am missing (because it is missing, see?). And I am OK with that.

*Double income, no kids.

One of the myriad of photos I took with Stacy on Sunday. Half of what I took turned out pretty good, and half of those were taken while tipsy, and therefore are a bit out of focus. Why can’t my camera correct for inebriation?

See that new header up there? It was born of that Photowalk Photostumble as well.