Amyella

Do good things come in threes?

I sure hope they do! Yesterday we signed our lease and secured a roof over our heads for the next 24 months! In about four weeks we'll be living in a lovely double mastered townhouse with a deck off the bright kitchen, a backyard with a vegetable garden already offering, and a finished rec room in the basement. That finished rec room? It has its own full bath. I might not see Patrick for days at a time!

We are waiting on one piece of good news that will put finality to the Great Headache of 2007-2010. We're getting so close but I don't want to say a word until it's done.

The third good thing? Well I guess the Universe will just have to surprise me with that one.

A Funny Visual

Me: Am I lying by the pool? Why yes, yes I am!

Her: Awesome! I can't do that at work...

Me: True, but you get to taze people

Her: Would much rather lay by the pool!

Me: I'd rather lay by the pool and be able to taze the obnoxious people

Her: With a cocktail in the other hand!

You Can Totally Make Fun of Me If You Want

Guess what is making running super duper cool! I downloaded this Runkeeper app to my sexy new phone and it is the shit (sidebar for Kristin: I downloaded it to mah Drizzle and it is the shizzy!! Rocking my face off!! Like, oh my god!!) I was hoping there was a widget I could add to my sidebar so I would be totally shamed into a consistently strong showing, but it only seems to put up the map, not the activity stats. Maybe I have to play with it a little more.

On to making fun of me! This morning I did something I haven't done in about a decade: I went to a Body Pump class.

I KNOW, right?

It's just that I have no desire to ever diet myself crazy or count protein grams or focus on squatting 225 lbs again in my whole life. I did it, it was cool, I loved it at the time. Now I just want to be fit and lean and healthy. And occasionally eat pizza. I certainly don't want any more muscle mass, but I obviously want to continue strength training. I still love lifting, but doing bodybuilding type splits without pushing as heavy as possible? Wha? I don't really enjoy that.

So this morning I showed up at the gym for the 5:45 am Body Pump class and I got a damn good workout in! I was sweating, it was challenging, and I guarantee that I'll be sore tomorrow. Can't ask for much more than that. Also? The female instructor had a rockin' body. Bonus!

It's not that this is the end of my days in the weight room, but at least I'm mixing it up a bit. If I do Body Pump once or twice a week, then I'll round out my strength workouts with some Turbulence Training supersets or P90X workouts.

Or, fuck it, maybe I'll just step into the squat rack and load up as many plates as I can.

 

 

Thankfully We're Not In Jail

My car died at a red light.

The End.

No really, I was sitting there waiting for green and then the car was just off- no lights, no music, no air, NO BATTERY. This particularly sucked because I just replaced the battery - with a brand new one! - all of two months ago. I feared the worst (alternator) and followed with reflex: I tried to turn the car back on.

It worked! But because when it comes to cars I am the unluckiest person in the history of people I have experienced dead alternators and multiple drained batteries and lousy customer service before. (I also blew out 10 tires in two years once, but that's neither here nor there.) I knew I was in for a risky ride and I cautiously avoided having to come to a stop on the freeway OMFG in rush hour traffic on 395 and if you don't get how awesome that is then let me just reassure you - I WIN AT TRAFFIC!

I eased into the gym parking lot (still without having come to a stop: not in traffic, not at a light, not during a merge, not at night) (actually it was at night but I really wanted to rhyme there) and into a parking spot and turned off the engine. I sucked in a deep breath and turned the key and not surprisingly at all, nothing happened. Not even a click. And don't think you wouldn't have done the same as me, getting out of the car and being frustrated pushing on the key's "lock" button, irritated that the doors aren't locking. What the f-------oh right. Insert the key into the keyhole.

I ran in an scoured the weight room for one Mr. HP and he was all "Hi, Babe!" and I was all "GAHHH carrrbattery stopped light ALTERNATOR!!"

We went home and called the nearest dealership and found out that because my car is leased, two months ago when I replaced the battery at CheapZone for the worth of a week's groceries, I could have had it replaced! for free! at the dealership! And now, because I have a non-Acura branded battery it will no longer! be free! at the dealership! Huzzah!

I called the number they provided for the tow truck and we went to meet him, waiting in the only open spot in the crowded parking lot, way in back. It only took ten minutes before we saw the flat bed pull in and I ran off to my car as HP went to flag down and direct the driver.

The guys came over while I stood there struggling to get into my poor, little SUV. I put the key in but it wouldn't open. I tried (in vain, duh) to push the "unlock" button over and over. We all three made attempts and tried to reason about some kind of weird security measure? That you can't unlock the car door with a dead battery? And I moved to the back of the Acura, confused and dejected (and hungry!) while HP and the tow guy debated the options and tugged on the door handle and peered inside the window. And then I got irritated because in the time that I left my dead car to head home and back some jerk-off put a small sticker on my back windshield!

Slowly, now...

..

..

Yup, there it is.

"This isn't my car!!"

And all of us jumped back with our hands in the air.

The key worked just fine on the identical, black, Acura RDX two cars down. The one with my license plates and no sticker on the back windshield.

The best retort I had to HP was "Well YOU didn't realize it either!"

And then we all laughed. At me.

Turns out that the awesome CheapZone battery putter-inner didn't tighten the battery cable? Or something? And therefore the fully-operational battery just WASN'T CONNECTED to the car. And upon tightening the car was just fine.

The End. For real this time.

Really Yummy Dijon Chicken

Yes They're Healthy Oatmeal Chocolate Chip "Cookies"

Essentially every time I have company or am invited as company somewhere else I bake. I like to bake, I'm pretty good at it and, let's face it, I grew up with my Nana. Food = love, for better or worse. Also, essentially every time I bake the recipient asks me "Are these healthy? Are they low fat?"

Usually, no. See, I make that stuff at home for me but for guests? I prefer to offer up the most delicious option available and that often requires butter, eggs, and sugar.

But these? I promise, I would even make these for company. If I could stand to part with them myself!

Yes They're Healthy Oatmeal Chocolate Chip "Cookies"

1 cup Old Fashioned rolled oats
2/3 cups oat flour (rolled oats in the food processor until a fine flour)
1 tsp baking powder
1/3 cup flax seed meal
1/4 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/3 cup Splenda
1/3 cup semisweet chocolate chips (you could sub raisins, or carob chips)
3 Tbs ANPB
1 tsp vanilla
1/3 cup water
2 Tbs extra light olive oil (can use canola, or vegetable, or coconut)

Preheat oven to 350. Mix everything in a bowl until it mostly sticks together in a ball. Spray a cookie sheet and form 12 balls and flatten. Bake for 12 minutes. Hoard for yourself or, if you're nice, share!

For each cookie:
112 calories
6 g fat (the good kinds! um, except the chocolate chips. Shh)
10.6 g carb
2.3 g fiber
3.5 g protein

Blug Past?

What are these things called? Oh right: blog post. Huh.

In an effort to avoid having to write anything poignant, let me share a short story about my dog.

Of course.

Kima and I were just finishing up our walk yesterday morning. It was about 6:30 in the a.m. and while most of the people I pass at that time are carrying briefcases and walking delicately in smart pumps, I'm wearing pajama pants tucked into rainboots, a puffy coat that comes down to my ankles, and a knit hat I got from the Old Navy kids' section. It's the only one that fits my head.

We were heading up the stairs and Kima had been pretty good for the duration of Operation Do Your Dog Doo, save for the constant sniffing. I don't know what was going on but she was sniff-sniff-sniffing the entire time! I simultaneously entertained myself and corrected her with quips like "Let's go Sniffy McGee" and "More pee pee, less sniff-ee." I'm so clever. And easily amused.

Anyway! To properly appreciate you have to envision our apartment complex. The external walkways are relatively narrow and every 20 or so feet is someone's front door. Kima was about one step in front of me.

Did you see the movie Signs? It was kind of like that. Without the aliens. I mean, it could only have happened at that precise moment with the perfect alignment of circumstances: Kima on our neighbor's welcome mat, him opening his door. When that happened she, naturally, turned her head as if he was welcoming her inside.

So at 6:30 in the morning as our stout, friendly neighbor was leaving for work he opened the door and was greeted with a bear poking her nose into his apartment. Or that's what it probably looked like.

I can't explain to you the way his scream sounded. It was pure, uncensored terror. He even threw his hands up in the air, I swear to God.

It only took a second for him to realize what was going on, with me apologizing profusely and ushering her ahead while she wiggled her nub. As I turned toward our door I heard him mocking himself and laughing. Thankfully.

That is too much excitement that early in the morning. I can't wait to live in a house.

Everybody Hates That Guy

Gooood morning, y'all!

I have approximately 7,000 emails to create, test, and launch in Eloqua this morning but before I get to all that I thought I'd give you some blog lovin'.

We had dinner with my cousin, her husband, and the baby last night. I don't know what happens at that 3 month mark, but my baaaaaabeeeee is already looking like a little boy!! So alert, looking around and reacting, and holy hell those CHEEKS! I nibbled on his cheeks for dessert. They were delicious. They are coming over this weekend to watch the playoffs and join us in some Beatles Rock Band so I will have an entire afternoon of babylicious. Yum.

This morning I witnessed the following things on I-395:
-a beat up, windowless van that looked like it could very well be in the high ranks of an "I'm the guy your mother warned you about" operation
-the vanity license plate MATH PHD. It's true that women cannot resist a man with a PhD in math. Way to go, dude!
-a gentleman who may have been practicing for the Olympic event of nose picking

Also this morning I was the accidental asshole. I had just begun my drive and approached the main left turn off our side street and was greeting to flowing traffic right through the green light. With no hint of a back up I followed through the intersection, with the light still green, and without warning found myself at the tail end of a clusterfuck of traffic. I didn't see it coming, but cars were backed up from the next light and I was stuck dead in the middle of the intersection just knowing that the lights were going to turn and I was going to be that asshole trying to make my left turn but stuck in the middle of the road, blocking the flow of traffic.

I was totally THAT guy - that asshole. But it was an accident! As cars were trying to maneuver around me and I desperately hoped the light ahead would change so I could AT LEAST GET INTO A LANE, ASSHOLE I wanted to explain to every irritated driver around me that I KNOW I KNOW! I agree with you! I didn't mean to! I'm the asshole but it was an accident! I thought commiserating with the commuters around me by honking the horn at myself, flipping myself off angrily, and making an overly exaggerated gesture of shrugging my shoulder with a look on my face as if to say "What was I thinking?!"

But that would've just made me the crazy asshole.

Last Day For the Tree

I love our tree.

Tomorrow we'll start taking it down, and prepping for what is shaping up to be a Big Year. Also, a Great Year and, possibly, one of the Greatest Years.

I'm excited.

Since No One In The Metro DC Area Has Anything Else To Talk About: Snow

Yes, I'm sure you've all heard: it's the first snow of the season in these here parts and, um, it's a lot of snow. A couple feet of snow. The sky opened up started throwing out snow at 9:00 last night and it literally has not stopped since. Not even to catch its breath or anything!  We took the dogs for their last walk of the night fairly early while there were only a couple of inches accumulated.

I fell twice, handed my leash over to HP and it goes without saying that I will not be walking them alone until the weather eases up a bit. In fact, I may not be walking them at all and just tagging along for moral support.

See, here's the thing. My dog, the Rottweiler? She's 83 pounds. Small by breed standards, yes, but she's 83 pounds of pure muscle. She's 27 inches tall and she's powerful as hell. Easton is tiny for a Boxer, he's 56 pounds. Normally I walk them alone first thing in the morning, HP gets them mid-day, we both take them in the evening, and then HP takes them for the last walk of the night sometime after 10. It's a good mix for us because I loathe the late night walk and he loathes and early morning walk. The problem is that I kind of suck at walking them alone. When they're good, and the weather is nice, and there are NO OTHER DOGS OR HUMANS AROUND it's easy peasy. They're both well behaved, for the most part, and walk nicely. However. If they decide they want to investigate a person or dog I am fucked.

One bright, weekend morning this summer during our morning walk there was a middle aged couple about 12 feet away who was SO EXCITED to see them. "Can we pet the dogs, oh my gosh we love dogs! They're so pretty they're so good!" The dogs sensed the excitement and it was all over for me...my face hit the sidewalk so fast I didn't see it coming and they just straight up dragged me for three yards. Aside from being embarrassing, it was a little scary. Thankfully they were headed for the love and affection of two welcoming people and not trying attack some frisky canine, but still.

On a dark, rainy morning in early fall I was out with them and we happened upon a woman walking her dog about 20 feet away. I was going to turn and take Kima and Easton in another direction, but the woman's dog was rambunctious and instigated a greeting. My dogs went for it and in the slick grass without traction I was doubly fucked: I ended up in a water skiing position with my two dogs pulling me and me finally sitting my ass on the ground while they pulled me the last dozen feet. I screamed, "OH SHIIIIIIIIIT!" It was involuntary. You would've screamed it too.

So, you see, I am terrified of the equation SNOW + MY DOGS + JUST ME = PAIN, CONFUSION, BROKEN PHALANGES.

Of course they seem pretty pleased by the whole thing.