Can Deluded Kelly come out and play?

Oh you guys.  OH YOU GUYS.  I did something that I'm really questioning after sleeping on it.  Well, not sleeping ON it, duh.  Sleeping on my laptop wouldn't exactly be comfortable.  I registered for a 5K.  And not only that, another 5K, and TWO, yes TWO half marathons.

I think I need to pee in a cup.  ME?  Ms. "I can come up with any excuse not to exercise to include but not limited to alien invasion" is going to "DO A 5K"????

Yep, I'm gonna.  On February 18, there is a fundraiser here in town that has a serious 5K, a walk/run, and a family walk/run.  Since The Hubs is going to be off out of state doing things that the Army tells him to for the Army, The Preteen is going to walk it with me, and Captain Awesome will be strapped into a stroller, enjoying himself immenseily, as long as there is milk and chocolate Teddy Grahams for him to nosh on.  (Speaking of, that's practically the only thing I can get him to eat lately, but I suppose it could be worse.)  So really, I'm doing that one solo.

On March 31, there is a 5K down the road a piece that I'm going to attempt to run the majority of the way.  I'm starting Couch to 5K today, and the timing is right for me to be able to run the 3.1 miles by then.  And if I don't run the whole thing I'm not going to beat myself up.  I mean, really - I worked out 5 days last week, the first time since senior year track practice.  I'll just be fucking proud I finished!

Then.  AND THEN.  Oh shit.  On April 7?  The Hubs and I are attempting a half marathon down in Lynchburg - the Jack Daniels 13.1.  Seriously, I just want the t-shirt.  I hope to run/jog 3.1 of it, and walk the rest.  There's a four hour time limit.  I got this shit.

Even worse?  Better?  I don't fucking know - On April 28, I just got talked into the Nashville Rock and Run for St. Judes.  Evidently I'm "a pussy" if I don't.  Well fuck THAT.  Challenge ACCEPTED.

AND THEN... In October, I plan on doing a half with my gal pals Katrina and Courtney in Kansas City.  The three of us were in the Alpha Phi house at Washburn University together, and not only are we sisters in that sense, I would very much choose them to be my sisters, period.  They make me laugh until I pee, and then laugh at me for peeing.  They're awesome that way.

Any running tips, playlist suggestions, motivation would be greatly appreciated.  I'm going to try to do this without any major injury, as we know how graceful I am.  Thank GOD there's no flights of stairs involved.  Otherwise, I'd totally need my money back.

As if the new CROP of gray hairs wasn't enough...

Okay, so Happy New Year, resolution time, blah blah whatever - I took a challenge to be healthier.  I figured if it was something I had to fork over a little bit of cash for and I get a t-shirt (YESSSS!), I'm in.  So I have committed to 120 minutes of exercise per week, and some other little goodies (if you want to check it out, you can at http://dolifemovement.com.  It's a way to get healthier both physically and mentally, and who doesn't need that at any time of the year, right?  Right.

Anyway, I think I've mentioned before that exercise and I are not friends, hence the size of my heiney.  I've never gotten the OMGTHEENDORPHINSILOVETOWORKOUTZOMG crap that people "talk" about.  I say "talk" because I think they're full of shit, and that feeling is the dizzies you get right before you pass out.  But now that I'm a parent, and a role model (I still choke a little bit trying to say that), I need to get my proverbial shit together so that my kids don't become molded to the couch with playstation controllers stuck to their grubby little hands.

That being said, I've exercised four days in a row, and this is what I've learned:

1. It's not that bad if you can something you can tolerate.  I don't mind the stationary bike, because I can read at the same time.  I don't mind the treadmill, because I can catch up on the ol' DVR while doing that.  Kind of.  I'm not the best at multitasking in that way, but I need more than music to focus on while putting myself through this torture working on a better me.
2. I freaking REEK.  I really need to cut down on the amount of garlic I cook with.  Holy shit.
3. I. Am. Old.  As in, I'm pretty sure my muscles have atrophied in certain spots.  I attempted yoga last night, and I think I dislocated a hip.

So, if you're looking for me today, you'll find me in the recliner, with ice packs on my hips, abs, and shoulders - actually, I'll just fill the bathtub with ice and be in there.  With my laptop, shopping for a walk-in bathtub, a home-health aide, and ordering reading glasses, denture adhesive, and a bunch of polyester and elastic so I can start making my age-appropriate pants.

Happy Friday. :)

Good Tidings of Comfort = Projectile Vomiting

Happy New Year, y'all!  The last couple of weeks have been kind of a blur, nothing much interesting went on other than we were all attacked by the plague flu, which decided to strike on Christmas Eve.  Nothing like projectile vomiting to celebrate the birth of Christ.

This whole holiday season was full of last minute decisions.  Upon realizing that we would rather be waterboarded rather than to take the four of us plus now two dogs in a Honda CR-V for 12ish hours, we traded vehicles kind of spur of the moment.  I now drive a bus Ford Expedition.  2007.  Rad.  I now need new cool sunglasses and a cool haircut to go with my "I can take the entire neighborhood to soccer practice" mobile.  It is roomy, which is good, because Sampson (our mastiff) will soon take up the entire backseat.  By himself.

Not to be outdone, The Hubs decided he was ready for an upgrade from the ol' Neon (it's okay if you want to laugh.  I've laughed at that poor car for almost five years.) to a mid-life crisis Mustang.  It's pretty sharp and ridiculous all in one.

Anyway, we made it to Kansas just fine, spent our retirement in gas, but got to have Christmas with my family.  Captain Awesome was anything but awesome on Christmas Eve, whiny and crabby, and a complete pain in the rear end.  He didn't want to eat, didn't want to drink, didn't want presents, his diaper was dry, so he sat on my mom's lap, just kind of being an asshole the entire time.  So we do presents (which was awesome, I was completely surprised by everything I opened this year - well, except what I wrapped for myself...lol) and I take the little guy to take a bath (which usually perks him up) and get him in his jammies.  We're snuggling, watching some cartoons, and lo!  Projectile ravioli!  Seriously, it went a good three feet.  I was kind of impressed.  Well, four bouts of puking later, he finally slept for about four hours straight, and was just completely zombified the rest of the trip.  Poor kiddo.  The Hubs and my bro had it, too.  I didn't get hit with it until after we got back, and about two days after I started feeling better, Violet got nailed with it.

BUT!  JOY OF JOYS!  School started today - finally - and we're all back to being healthy.  Kind of.  Little guy has a fever, but his breath is so disgusting, I'm pretty sure he's getting ready for one of his last teeth to come in.  That, and he's chewing on one of the dog's rawhide sticks like it's a life source, so I'm just going to chalk it up to teeth.  I reeeeeeeeeeally needed him to take like a 7 hour nap this afternoon, but we don't always get what we want, says the Rolling Stones, so Mr. Cranky Pants and I have been hanging out the majority of the day, getting nothing done, because he refuses to leave my side/get off my lap.

I hope everyone had a great holiday!  2012 started with the pukes, so there's nowhere to go but up, right?  RIGHT?

Christmas usually comes once a year...that's what she said.

Christmas is upon us, and I don't have a damned thing wrapped.  I love being a mom during Christmas - I pick out, buy, and wrap my own presents.  :o(  This year, I replaced my kindle with the kindle fire... oh, it's lovely.  I didn't even bother wrapping it.  In fact, I've been using it for two weeks.  Sorry, Santa.  I also traded in the ol' Honda yesterday for an upgrade on the mom-mobile; no more CR-V, oh no!  Momma got herself an Expedition.  2007. DVD player.  Remembers my seat position.  Navigation so I don't get lost (completely outdated and I'm not spending $200 to upgrade it, but it has a map, so I'm good.).  We want to eventually add to the brood, and since our mastiff puppy will soon be bigger than the CR-V, we just went ahead and did it.

I haaaaaaaaaaaaaate car shopping.  There's always that "OMGIMGONNABARFHURRYUPANDCOMEBACKFROMFINANCEANDTELLMEIMAPPROVEDIMGONNABARFIMGONNABARFIMGONNABARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRF!" feeling.  My salesman was rad though.  Offered me lunch and coffee and pop, and was funny.  And not pushy.  So I'm having three Christmases this year, once we get to Kansas!  Yay!

So this car.  It. Is. BOSS.  So much so, that when the Hubs and I were watching MTV True Life: I Want A Sugar Daddy (don't judge, it was quality family time), he said tomorrow I need to go get a mani-pedi and my hair cut.  And he and Captain Awesome can just sit in the car and watch a movie.  We also have to go to Tractor Supply and spend half a paycheck on dog food.  This. Dog. Can. Eat.

Happy Monday before Christmas, y'all.  Here's wishing you make it through the week without papercuts, lost receipts, and with enough booze/coffee/insert vice here to keep you sane!  I don't think I'll be back until after the holiday, so I truly hope you have a blessed Christmas and a Happy New Year!

 

I'd rather be waterboarded.

I've discovered a torture that would make even the most die-hard criminal (you know, Martha Stewart) break.  INFOMERCIALS (I know I've went on and on about this before, but evidently the powers that be give no shits as to what I think, since they're still airing these pathetic excuses for advertising.).  If I was privy to state secrets, or if I was an undercover CIA agent, or whatever, just make me watch fucking "as seen on tv" shit on a loop or ambulance chasing commercials and I'd spill my guts quicker than you can say "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

Let's start off with a trip to As Seen On TV land, shall we?  (Not to be confused with the channel, TV Land, although I don't go there either.  Maybe I should.  My 10 year old did make me feel about 87 this morning.)  My insomnia means that I watch a lot of crap TV.  There was a time when my bank account became very nervous when I'd have a bout of it, but that's when they had cool shit for sale on TV, like YEARS of SNL on VHS.  You know I bought THAT.  


Okay.  Tell me who the eff needs an Eggie?

Marketing geniuses, they are.

How many hardboiled eggs does one person need?  And really, if you're boiling more than a dozen, well, just fuck that, because your house is going to stink.  Also?  Is it that much of a pain in the ass to peel an egg?

Hey you!  Yes, you!  Do you ever get up in the night and wish you had a light to help you find the bathroom?  Need a snack?  Check on your kids?  How about those pesky errands you need to run in the middle of the night?  Look no further!  We gots lights on these here slippers!  Are you fucking kidding me?

It's now available in pink and navy blue.  I knew you wanted to know, so I doublechecked for you.  Also in kids' sizes!  (How's that for some effing customer service??)

The people on these commercials - I'm just going to throw it out there - I'm concerned for their mental health. No one talks in EXCLAMATION! POINTS! ALL! THE! TIME!  I think someone(s) need to submit for a urinalysis.  It's intervention time.  And these celebrity cameos?  Are you broke?  I don't care that The Bieb or Avril Lavigne uses Proactive or whatever it's called.  You're a kid.  You're gonna get zits.  Get over it.

I really need to find something else to do at 3 AM when I can't sleep.  I'd better make a trip to Hobby Lobby and find a project that does not need a sewing machine or a glue gun, because I can't guarantee my own safety when I'm that tired.

My house smells like cake.

Mmmm.... cake.  I love cake.  Any kind you want to throw at me, chances are, I'll like it.  Really, if you want to throw some cake at me, that's fine.  Five second rule, and all that.

I realized today that I had done zero holiday baking, and I only have half the crap I need to start making candy (mmmm.....candy), so I'd make do with what I had, and that manifested in a red velvet cake.  Which I put in a really pretty bundt pan.  And if that motherfucker doesn't come out pretty.... well, fuck it.  We're just going to eat it anyway.  It's not like it's for a cake walk or a school function or potluck or whatever.  I EVEN MADE HOMEMADE FROSTING.  Well, because I was out of canned, and I had a box of powdered sugar in the cabinet.  I also swept and mopped.  Miss Suzy Homemaker, what?!

There's a few more things on my list that need to get done before the Hubs gets home tonight, but for now, I'm taking a break.  The divine Ms. Johi said to only get three things done a day (or something like that, I don't exactly remember, but I loved that post so so much), so I'm doing pretty good today.  Besides, The Preteen will be home within the hour, and I can't let her learning responsibility go by the wayside just because I got everything on my list done, now can I?

PS - I think my meds are working.  I feel eleventy billion percent better today, even with a temp of 100.7.

PPS - Anyone want some cake?  Coffee?  Leftover pizza?  Because that's what's for dinner, kids.

Adventures in Depression

That title makes this post sound entirely too exciting than what it actually is.  Actually, it makes me want to watch Adventures In Babysitting, which I may just do after the kidlets go to bed.  We got a satellite dish when I was in grade school, and I watched a lot of movies I really shouldn't have.  Hence, "DON'T. FUCK. WITH. THE. BABYSITTER." was a choice phrase a lot earlier in life than it should have been.  Don't hate.  That shit is awesome.  And this kid?  Rad as fuck.

Spaghettio's!  WITH MEAT!  I want that hat.  I want it bad.

Alright, back to business.  Heh.  That makes me think of Big Business.  With Bette Midler and Lily Tomlin. Don't judge.

I HAVE THE BEST TASTE IN MOVIES. EVER.

I need a day just to watch crappy 80s movies.  That would refresh and rejuvenate me.  Not according to my doc, though.  Although he does think I need rest.  Rest in which I actually sleep for more than 45 minutes to two hours at a crack.  So I have a new cocktail to try, in the hopes that I don't sleep like a baby.  Because seriously - whoever came up with that crap has never had a newborn.  And when I say newborn, I mean kids period, because Captain Awesome didn't decide to sleep through the night until he was heartily past a year old.

Anyhoo, cross your fingers and your toes that this shit works.  Because if I don't get some decent sleep, I may self implode.  Oh, I also have the flu, so steer clear.  I'll try not to breathe in your general direction.