My Olympic Score Card

Things I am over/confused about this Olympics:

• Phelps and Lochte. (Yes, they're good swimmers. But there are other athletes in the Olympics.  And dude has a shoe with his name on it and a diamond grill. Him and everybody eles know he's arrived)
• Ryan secrest there. What the fck is he doing at the Olympics anyway? Does he know the kardashians aren't there?
• The exhorbanant amount of human interest stories they show during prime time.
• Prime time Olympics
• bob costas.
• The obligatory Wills/Kate/Harry shot if they are at an event, (wonder if Harry feels like a 3rd wheel) and the subsequent kate fashion report card. (she always looks good in public, lets move on)
• that it's a surprise the granddaughter of the queen, who owns the host country is on the Olympic team.  
• The Walmart commercials that are a total rip off of the Ford commercials.
• Volleyball, both beach and indoor. I find the amount of coverage it gets (at least an hour of prime time) far out weighs my interest it (10 minutes every 10 years). 
• Referring to a silver or bronze medal as "loosing." Um no, it's still a medal, and whatever happened to the honor and dignity of just being able to compete in the first place?

Things I can't get enough of this Olympics:

• the actual sporting
• Adorable Missy Franklin
• Seeing family members reactions when their people win.
• The medal winners reaction to when their anthem is played.
• Watching the slightly more obsure sports. Who knew I liked water polo? And kayaking? And the road race? I was riveted!
• Synchronized diving
• Being impressed by all the athletes athletic prowess.
• Randomly cheering  USA! USA! while pumping my arms
• My dvr. god bless dvr
• Samuel L Jackson's twitter feed
• The google doodles! Seriously, the Olympics and a new google doodle every day? It's two of my most favorite things ever!

USA!!! USA!!!

So I'm glued to the tv for the next 17 days.  (seriously, I'm even typing during commercial breaks.)
Poor husband, my random outburst of USA! USA! and singing along to the Olympic fanfare made him turn around in surprise at first, but he's gotten used to my random cheers by now.

Anyway, one of my life goals is to go to a summer and winter Olympic games. I figure they'll be on American (or Canadian) soil again at some point in my life time, so this is a reasonable goal. (and since they announce these things 6-7 years in advance, we'll have plenty of time to save and plan)

Now I know it's too late for me to go as an athlete, I have no disillusions there. However, it is not too late for Sharktopus and Dinocroc to have a chance to go. So, I'm going to go tiger mom on my kids and they will become an Olympic athlete! That way Mike and I HAVE to go to the Olympics to support them!   Mike's totally behind me on this, he's even asked what obscure sport we could get them into at an early age to increase their chances.  This is a flawless plan.

USA!!! USA!!!

Ear Worm

mike: You coming to bed?
me: Yeah, just once second, I want to request the right cd from the library before I forget.
mike: Call me maybe?
me: Nooo. No....
mike: Mmmhmm.
me: No, really I'm not. Not call me maybe. More so... (small voice) Bieber.
--mike's mouth falls open--
me (defensively): You know I like teenage music.
mike: --hangs head in defeat-- Yes. Yes I do.
me: And you married me anyway. (snort) Sucker!

Shocked

One night on our honeymoon before dinner Mike and I were at the bar pre-gaming and practicing our spanish. (not really. well, we were pre-gaming, but not so much the 'practicing' as it was butchering, but that's neither here nor there)  The bartender asked me how old I was and I had to think about it for a second before I remembered: Oh, I just turned 30.

He was shocked by my youthful face. Whereas I was shocked that I'm now at the age that I have to remember how old I am.

Sigh

Girl Power

mike: you're probably going to need a bigger suitcase for the honeymoon.
me: Really? I can fit a lot in this one.
mike: A week's worth of clothes in there?
me: Oh, well, now that you mention it... Clothes are no problem, but I do need to pack a lot of shoes, and those to take up a lot of room.
mike: What? How many pairs are we talking about here?
me: Well, beach shoes, tennis shoes, running shoes, flip flops, a pair of heels in case we go to dinner some place nice, spare shoes in case the tennis shoes get dirty... And then we have to leave room in the suitcases for chotchkies we bring back. good point, i probably will need a bigger suitcase.
mike: Um, wow. That's a lot of shoes.
me: you do realize you married a GIRL, right?

Pairings

me: Where did you park?
mike: over there I think.
me: Oh, I think I see the Seabring. Hey, does your car have a name?
mike: No I don't think it does (yet). (ok, the yet was implied, he knows perfectly well where I'm going with this)
me: yeah, we need to name your car. (see?)
mike: umm
me: Ok it's a Seabring, so... Sea, Cici, Ree, Ebree, bri.. OH! Bree! Because: I have Cam, and if you have Bree, then our cars together are Cam-Bree!
--Mike just looks at me--
me (to the car): Hi Bree!

Peak

me: Oh my god, I'm 30.
mike: It's really not that bad.
me: Can it be my 2nd 29th birthday?
mike: But don't you want to hit your sexual peak?*
me: What? Oh yeah, that's right, a woman's sexual peak is supposed to be in her 30's isn't it.
mike: Yep. (grinning)
me: OH!!!! My running peak is supposed to happen in my 30's too! Oh, that's good!
mike: Yes. That's where I was going with that.

*it's ok honey, we're married.

Going to Need a Bigger Cake

Guess who's 30 today?
Me! Me!
Guess who's slightly freaking out about it?
Also me! Me!
I guess it's not really that huge a deal.  Age is only a number, I don't look it, bla bla bla, it's just the start of a new decade, but....it's still 30.....

I typically do a here's what happened in the last year and here's what I have to look forward too kind of blog on my birthday. And since this is a big year, what with entering a new decade an all, I feel it is especially prudent to provide a recap. As so, the 29th year of my life included:

• finishing (my first) full marathon
• getting into graduate school
• buying a glue gun and 13 pounds of tissue paper
• cursing Martha Stewart and her beautiful craftiness.
• throwing a big party and legally tying myself to dr soc for-ev-er.

 Stuff to look forward to:

• starting graduate school
• legally changing my last name (due to the legally tying to dr soc thing)
• finishing another marathon
• becoming an aunt (by marriage. still counts!)

 Well, another candle for another decade means we need more cake to put it on right? Right?

Car Rights

Every now and again I see a car I like and decided I want it for my mom car. My current favorite is a Mazda 3 hatchback, but then I see a Prius V or a CRX and I declare that my mom car. 
Anyway, not that it really matters what I want for my mom car this particular moment, not only because I'm not a human mom yet and that Cam is a good faithful steed we hope to have a long while,  but I also have lost all car picking rights of our family. And I lost them as such:

me (telling a story): I'm driving the :pause: honey, what do I drive again?
mike (exasperated): You drive a Carola. (we may have had this conversationa few times...)
me: Right. Anyway so I'm driving the Carola...

--fast forward some months later--

me (telling another story): I'm driving the Civic and
--mike walks in the kitchen at this precise moment--
mike: NO! A Civic? That's a Honda, you don't even have the right brand! At least with the Camry and Carola they are both Toyotas! That's it. You have lost all car picking privileges.

And thus it was decreed. And in all honestly, I can't say that I blame him though.

Do the math

Last Saturday I did the first long run of my training plan (8 miles) in the afternoon, a couple of hours before I had to to go work.  But unfortunately, I'm a bit out of shape,* so I knew it would be a tough run. It takes my body a few weeks to adjust to running conditions after a break, and so I've come to expect a certain degree if tummy trouble post (long) run the first few weeks of training.

Fortunately, the stomach pain dissipates within a few hours of it happening, and altogether disappears once my body gets used to running distances again.  Unfortunately, I didn't time my run and work schedule up very well last Saturday, because I was hurting pretty bad when I walked into work that day.   

me: (doubling over in pain) Ugh, I don't feel so good.
coworker: Are you pregnant?**
me: Yep. Thirteen months along and counting.***
coworker: Huh? Months? 
me: Yep. Then I straitened up, and walked directly to the bathroom.

So yeah, I've decided to stop denying being pregnant (because no one believes me anyway) and just being snarky with people. And while the snark didn't stop my pain right there, it did make me feel a little better in a way. 

*I barely worked out pre-wedding. Weirdest bride ever.
**Seriously, I'm so tired of people assuming I'm pregnant, implying that I will be soon enough, then looking at me with a knowing smile when I staunchly deny it, when it's really none of your fcking business in the first place.
***too tired to deny, but not tired enough to snark.

Depends

It's incredibly depressing to say this, but it's true. I'm never going to be completely independent.
I know it's not a first world problem, and it's a pithy thing to feel down about.  And the fact that I've never been without support (financially, emotionally) is so rare and lucky and makes me seem incredibly heedless for what I do have.
My lot in life is by no means a bad one.  I have a roof over my head, people that love me, and I even have a job.  And my job isn't bad, but it's not my ideal and it's not my career.  The random hours are pretty rough on me, and I like my coworkers and the job itself.  And the glaring fact here is that I have a job which is which is more than many people even have. And here I am lamenting over that I'm not in the career I want and how I can't wait to start graduate school to get there.  A lot of people don't get the breaks I've had in life.  And I'm whining about it.
But I'm nearly 30 years old. And I've always been taken care of. First and foremost by my parents, and now my husband. And I get a lump in my throat when I face how far I haven't come.

Iron

me: Oh shoot, I wanted to wear these shorts today, but the crease is so bad in the cuffs that I have to iron them.
mike: You iron?
me ::scoffing:: No.
mike: Which means...
me ::sigh:: That more than likely I'll never wear them again. Too bad, I really like these shorts.

Yeah, I don't iron. Apparently we have one, but I have no idea where it is, nor do I have much intention of finding it, let alone using it.

Happy 4th!

Oh yeah...
Happy 4th of July!

Happy Birthday Bailey

My Bailey girl is 5!I know she's not a puppy anymore, but on occasion I still call her that. Even though she's no longer this:

so tiny! and squirmy! and PUPPY!!!

after her first bath. that glare is due to the fact that she hated it.
(come to think of it, she still gives me that look post bath)

And now more so this:

not so tiny. and not as squirmy
(though just as spazzy and unfocasable)

See the gray? Old girl!
(the hat didn't last long)

Some things have obviously changed, like her overall size and weight.  She doesn't fit on my lap anymore and she likes tummy rubs now. There's noticeable gray in her muzzle now it's starting to spread a little more into the rest of her face. And believe it or not as she's gotten older, she's calmed down a bit (It's true! Stop laughing!) and only takes off on a spaztastic chase around the house when her little sister eggs her on. Not to mention she has that little sister and a papa who loves her most of the time. While other things about Bailey have stayed the same, like how she still throws up in the car, loves to chase cats, hates bathes, and is still the prissy puppy who won't go outside if the grass is wet. 

But as spaztastic as she is, she definitely knew what she was doing that day I showed up at the pound. She made a beeline for us when she escaped her crate then latched onto me the second she was put in my arms, cementing her place in my heart with a kiss on the chin.  She made a huge hullabaloo of crying and catawhomping and clamored to get back into my arms after I set her down for a second. She could feel my heart melt as I picked her back up, while all the while I'm pretty sure she was thinking "Hahahaha! Sucker! I'm going to cost you sooooooooo much!"

But I wouldn't trade my birthday girl for the world. Thousands of dollars in vet bills, all disgusting car trips and all the baths that I end up more wet than her, I still wouldn't trade a day.

Happy birthday Bailey!

It's Fun to Stay at the YMCA

Our gym was bought out by another gym a few months ago, and eventually raised our rates.  We were (ok, Mike was) ok if a small rate hike meant we got an new perk, ie: a pool, a track, or even if the classes were included in the membership and not extra like we (he) were paying now. But the only upgrades we got were new lockers* in the locker room and towel service.  Oh, they also removed the tanning booths, (which is actually a good thing, but the point here is that something was removed but the rates went up) 

In short: the raise hike wasn't really worth it, so we started looking for a new place. (it kinda felt like cheating on our gym though)  All I really need is a treadmill and some classes, though my dream gym has an indoor track. (oh, UK Johnson Center, how I love and miss thee terribly) We checked out 2 places, the YMCA and a place really close to us.

We looked at the Y closest to us first and it has everything we both want. It's almost the same price as what we're (ok, once again Mike's) paying now, but, the classes are included (one's taught by a former Panther!) has an indoor and outdoor pool, (polliwog here I come!) includes childcare (one day we'll need this), and, the clincher for me, an outdoor and indoor track (my runner's heart just skipped a beat!).  All in all, a nice place, at a price slightly lower that what we're paying now, with more stuff than we're getting now.

The 2nd place we looked at was close to our house, and the reason we checked it out is because it's super cheap.  It's fine, pretty much the exact same thing we already have (minus the fancy pants lockers and towel service of course), at 3/4th the price. But. The place had a sign posted that the parking lot has has a lot of break ins recently. There are tanning beds** (also extra even on top of the classes) and the recycle bins are adorned with a Pepsi logo.*** Not to mention the sales guy was pushy since they work on commission. And even if he didn't need to work on his sale tactics,**** (which he did) he he rubbed me wrong way regardless by pointing out what women's problem areas are one too many times (my ass is fine, thankyouverymuch) and then generalizing how women act and feel about those problem areas.* I wouldn't have felt comfortable working out there if my husband wasn't there with me to keep an eye on me. Which, no. (and that's exactly what I said as soon as we walked out of there)

So we're going with the Y for seemingly obvious reasons. Mike and I are even thinking of taking some swimming classes to lean how to be better swimmers. After all, we don't want to be stuck in the polliwog level for all times!

*These new lockers have a built in set your own combination lock, and there's no way to use your own lock anymore. Which is not confusing at all. No one has to go to the front desk since they were locked out of their locker and have someone bring the one master key for the entire place for an entirely new lock system that no one knows really knows how to use yet. Oh, and there's no other way to open the lockers since the hinges are on the inside. No, not confusing at ALL. 
**Overall I don't get tanning booths at gyms in general.  It seems odd that a place promoting healthy living provides skin cancer in a box.
***We are solidly Coke people. Not to mention, soft drink + workout = fail.
****Once he figured out he wasn't going to get a sale from us that very moment, and were not going to bring him any new business either, we were not worth his time. I was all too happy to have him push us out the door.
*once again, keep my tush out of it. Pointing out that my "problem area" (which is fine) is going to get checked out by the clientele which makes women very self conscious; did exactly that. Made me very self conscious right there and uneasy about the possibility of getting checked out as we were getting the tour.