What not training looks like. And then lots of sweat talk

Posted on June 8, 2012 by rungineered

Ok. Here’s what this week was supposed to look like:
M: Stretch/Rest
T:3 miles
W:Cross train
R:3 miles

And here’s what actually happened:
Monday: announce to the world that I’m going to run a half marathon. This announcement includes close friends and family who will totally call me out on any future bailing. Instead of running I went home from work and ate anything and everything edible in my kitchen. At least, anything that I didn’t have to cook.
Tuesday: Wake up early to go run. Hit the snooze button approximately 87 times. Approximately, I’m not sure. I was still mostly asleep. Go to work, get worked up by idiot co-workers. I would have loved to then go burn off some steam with a lunch time run, but I was invited out to lunch and we could all use some venting. After work I should have gone home and gone running. Instead went to Boston for Scooper Bowl 2012 and ate my weight in ice cream

At Scooper Bowl you have to hold on to your cups. It’s like a score card. Also, it was 55 degrees and raining. Who cares… it’s was unlimited ice cream!

I was then going to go home and go to bed at a responsible time. Instead, my co-worker and I met up with said co-worker’s cousin in town for the day for a conference. And I stayed in Boston until after midnight watching the Celtics win game 4 of whatever series they’re playing. (conference champs? I don’t know. Ask me about baseball. That’s my sport.).

Wed: For the love of all things active lifestyle, I had to run. And did!! On the advice of a friend, I downloaded RunKeeper on my phone. Fabulous. Every 5 minutes a woman comes through the speakers and tells you how you’re doing. I didn’t like what she was saying because my running was slowed but the lack of breathing due to the continued abundance of mother flipping pollen. But I pushed myself those 3 miles. And got it done. Then I came home, ate a much healthier dinner, stretched, and cleaned up my apartment.
Thurs: Work was having our annual BBQ tonight. I wasn’t particularly thrilled to go, but I’m on the social committee and I felt obligated. So I ran at lunch. I’m slow (and I mean SLOW) and like to keep lunch to an hour. And I have got to shower because sitting in my own sweat for the rest of the day is just too gross to fathom. That means I can only run 2 miles. And that’s what I did. I ran a mile, walked for 2 minutes, and then ran another mile. And that is fine with me. And though the run wasn’t amazingly comfortable, it didn’t hurt. And my muscles that were a little sore worked themselves out. And oh man the sweat. But it was the feels-so-good-I-just-want-to-keep-sweating kind of sweat. The kind of sweat I think of when I read “sweat is just fat crying”. I just said sweat a lot. Sorry about that. I suppose my life will start to revolve around things like sweat amounts. And distances. And times. And routes. And meals. And snacks. And that’s why I’m blogging. My real life friends will eventually stop talking to me. Then I went back to work and I finished off the day and headed to the BBQ. We played some back yard games and I ended up having an ok time. Not great, but not end-of-the-world horrible. And now I’m falling down exhausted. I like that feeling. Like a little kid wearing himself out at the park, I could fall asleep on the floor while I’m stretching. I hope that means I’ll sleep well tonight. Tomorrow is Friday. And Friday is a rest. I’m going to love the next 17 Fridays. A lot.

Big News: I’m running a half marathon!

Posted on June 4, 2012 by rungineered

Big news! I’m training for a half marathon. I’m still deciding which and I’ll be sure to share when I do. The two I’m considering are only a week apart in late September so as long as I know by mid August (which is the absolute latest I would ever know and I think it will be more like mid July) I can add a week to training if needed. As it is, I’m following a 12 week training program but am starting a few weeks early on the ~~off chance~~ ~~really good chance~~ definite chance that I’ll want to repeat a week or stick in a step back week. I’m equal parts excited for this new adventure, terrified of the awesome task I have ahead of me, and worried that I won’t have it in me to do this. But I’m working really hard on ignoring that last part.

13.1 miles is not a short distance. I recently drove to southern Connecticut and back over two days and as I approached hour 5 in the car I noticed a sign for the next town that was 14 miles away. And as I drove by the exit for that town this thought crossed my mind. I just drove slightly more than half marathon distance. And even driving that seemed like a lot. Granted, I had gone to CT for a funeral and was spending more than 6 hours in a car in a 30 hour stretch. At that point one mile seemed like a lot. Still. 13.1 miles is no laughing matter.

On the other hand a year ago 5k seemed ridiculously long. These days I laugh in the face of a 5k. Ok, not really. That 3.1 mile distance still kicks my butt. But it used to be 1 mile that kicked my butt. Improvement, no? And I got there because I put the work in. I put miles on the pavement and pushed myself up hills and around extra loops and trudged through the rain. I just have to do that again. Just 4 times as long. Ha. To do that, the next 4 months will be full of training, figuring out what I should be eating, hopefully losing some weight, and I’m sure loads of grunts, guts, tears, and smiles. Maybe not loads of smiles. Running’s hard, yo.

I don’t know about you, but I need motivation. And a lot of it. At this point telling myself “just think how good you’ll feel crossing the finish line” won’t cut it. That moment is 4 months and hundreds of miles down the road. I learned a while ago that dry erase marker goes on and off a mirror pretty easily. And as luck would have it my bathroom is configured in a way that I don’t use a third of my mirror. So I’ve decided to write an inspiring quote on the bathroom that will be the theme, if you will, for each week. And quite frankly I fell off running a bit this winter and I’m stuck up against that mental wall. And I keep almost busting through and wimp out. I’ve got two more weeks of “pre-training” to try to bust through so I need a little inspiration to find that moment of triumph. So this week’s theme? “It doesn’t get easier, you just get better.” I stole that from pinterest. I’m pretty sure it’s been stolen, cannibalized, re-written, and like a middle school game of telephone is nowhere near the original quote. So I can’t find an author. All I know is it’s exactly how I feel. Running will always be hard. But if I stick to it, I’ll get better. And those 13.1 miles will fly by. Hahahaha. I can’t even type that with a straight face. Let’s be real honest. Those 13.1 miles are going to drag by. But with every step another little bit of distance will be gone and at some point 13.1 miles will be over.

And oh the dancing that will occur at that finish line.

Basements are for Boys

Posted on March 30, 2012 by rungineered

For about three weeks I’ve been hearing a beep from the basement. I rent a third of a house. It’s two floors and a basement (a cellar if you’re talking to MA-accent toting landlord). The basement has three parts. The first is where my oil tank and my washer and dryer are. No big. When I have a warm Saturday I hope to sweep is out and clean it so it’s a little less icky. The next part is my boiler (I think?) and hot water tank (which I only just learned was definitely the hot water tank) and the circuit breaker (I’ve only had to use that twice, and only once did I need a flashlight because the basement light was on the blown). This second part is ickier but again cleanable. I hope. Then there’s a third part. And before I start on that scary, icky, nasty section, let me disclose this. Bugs are coming.
I have a bit of a bug problem in my apartment. Apparently I have the type of basement that attracts bugs. And they crawl upstairs. And they aren’t tiny cute little bugs. Ok. I know. None of them are tiny or cute, but most of them I can manage. In fact, as a child, I was the household bug killer. This is the downside to being packed with some bravery and having a brother who is three years younger (and holds less bravery). As I’ve gotten older I’ve grown a little more squeamish but mostly I can handle a bug situation. Except centipedes. If you don’t know centipedes, feel lucky. They can be big, squishy, have lots and lots of nasty legs, and move insanely fast. Even typing that sentence makes me nauseated. But I can still kill them. And can usually recover within a couple of hours (they’re just so gross). I know I have them because I have an old basement and I’m going to go see the guys at the hardware store to maybe solve this problem. But until then I hope and pray no more bugs sneak upstairs and I can exist in blissful denial.
Tonight? Denial was just a river in Egypt. Because the beeping from the basement is becoming more bothersome. I put on my I’m-an-independent-single-woman-who-is-completely-capable-of-taking-care-of-herself pants and decided to investigate when I heard it for the third time tonight. Except, it still only beeps once every 20-30-40 minutes. I don’t really pay attention so I wasn’t exactly sure how to investigate. I started by going downstairs to see if any lights were flashing. They weren’t. Investigate then became hanging out next to the washing machine with a beer and some work files until whatever is beeping beeped again. (rocket science, I know!) I stood with my beer and my work and waited. And then after 5 minutes had passed I was bored. And then it occurred to me. Maybe it wasn’t the dryer, water heater, boiler (or whatever that thing is. Oil burner?). Maybe it was something in the creepy part of the basement (cellar). Back in that third part it’s kind of dirty. And filled with all sorts of bits and pieces of home repair/demolition/rebuild stuff (my landlord’s a contractor or something [sounds sketchy, but he works with my Dad so it’s not, I swear]). I ventured back there and noticed the big white Verizon box that I have for FiOS (such fast internet!!!) had an extra light lit. It was the “change battery” light. Except the thing is plugged into an outlet. So I don’t really understand what the heck it needs a battery for. But I don’t like to judge. As I’m trying to figure out how to open the thing to find out what type of battery it needs and I notice the spider. Oh wait. Not spider.

Spiders…ssssssss.

So. Many. Spiders. Everywhere. And not those little gray ones. Nasty jet black ones. And not dainty little daddy long legs. I was looking at a daddy long legs that I think was large enough to enroll in kindergarten. No joke, the body of that thing is the size of a small peanut. A PEANUT! And then I look around a little more and that whole section of the basement is just one huge ass spider web. And here’s where I started to freak out a little. I found a hammer handle and brushed off the box. And managed to pry it open. And it needs a battery the size of a small house. Which means I’ll have to call Verizon and have them bring me one (what a dumb system). Once I realized there isn’t any thing I can do about the battery tonight I hauled ass out of that basement. And now I feel as though a thousand tiny legs are crawling all over me. And I’m going to leave you with that thought. While I go attempt to shower off any potential spider. And honestly, if a spider washes out of my hair, I just might possibly pass out. I promise I’m not usually this easily creeped but they were EVERYWHERE. And these are the nights that I don’t mind if the Y chromosome let’s my male co-workers eat fried chicken everyday and not gain weight. That Y chromosome makes them perfect for basements. Screw feminism. I think that one daddy long legs was old enough to vote! THE SIZE OF A PEANUT. That’s horror movie stuff.

Hearts and bug killer

Commute

Posted on March 20, 2012 by rungineered

This is from last Tuesday. I wrote it while waiting in line at the stores while I was running errands.

Driving home tonight, my windows are rolled down. Technically the moon roof is rolled back. And really, aren’t all windows electric now, so really there’s no rolling. Regardless, the windows were open. The air blowing in the windows breezes across my skin. My skin that is so happy to be in short sleeves in mid March. Kenny Chesney is ripping chords on the live version of “She Think’s My Tractor’s Sexy” (which I do). My sunglasses are on. I smile while I belt out the chorus with Kenny. Tonight is a night to be celebrated. Tonight the sun is still out and I can have the windows down leaving my Massachussets based office. I’ve got a short drive to run an errand and a sexy tractor driver to keep me company. I turn the volume up a bit more as a little stream of sun peaks into my rearview mirror. Life is good.

Driving through town I see dozens of people out and about running, roller blading (who knew people still roller bladed?!), walking, and playing. Halfway to my destinaion I’m driving up a hill. I see a mother walking along the sidewalk, a toddler‘s hand tightly in her own. The toddler is very small and looks as though she’s still working out the walking thing. A single ponytail sticks up from the top of her head. I wonder why they are walking along the sidewalk and not in a park or a yard somewhere. They have no stroller or diaper bag and I think to myself, maybe it’s just so nice they wanted to leave the back yard for a little walk around the neighborhood. We crest the hill together and then I pass them. Walking towards them, presumably from the train that has just left the commuter station up ahead, is a man in his early 30s dressed in a smart suit and sunglasses, a messenger bag across his shoulder, iPhone in hand. At first I think nothing of it as there are people in business attire walking along the opposite sidewalk. And then I discover that mother and daughter were journeying up the sidewalk. This man in the serious suit suddenly breaks out into a mile wide smile and does a goofy two handed wave that a father only does for his little girl. And for a moment my heart sighs. It sighs over the sweetness of a mother bringing her little girl toddling up the street to meet her daddy. It sighs over a man who is so clearly over the moon to see his family walking to meet him. And mostly my heart sighs with yearing, hoping one day to be a part of such a simple joy as a commute home to a family.

Birthdays are important, damn it

Posted on February 22, 2012 by rungineered

Fat Tuesday? No. Crazy-ass-nutso Tuesday? Yes.

When I woke up this morning I went to work like always. Partway through the morning I found out that the Wake for a friend’s grandfather was this afternoon. In a town about an hour west of civilization (also known as 10 minutes west of the second largest city in MA. But it’s far from my office/apt/parents/Boston so I sometimes think of it as the middle of nowhere). Of course I was going. Though I would have to leave work early because I could only make the beginning of the wake. And I was in jeans and some random shirt. I ran home at lunch and changed. About 400 times because I didn’t like any options. Back at the office, I went to tell my boss I was leaving early and she wasn’t at her desk. I looked in the parking lot. No car. She had sounded terribly sick yesterday afternoon so apparently she took a sick day. But didn’t tell anyone. Awesome. Instead I told my cube neighbor I was leaving and I would have my phone on and I headed out west. I’m glad I could be there, though there was never really any question of whether not I would make it. I had to leave by 5 to get all the way up to southern NH to help my step-dad, J, shop for my mother’s birthday present. I got there just in time. We were to meet at 6:30 in the Best Buy. 6:30 came and went. Then 6:40. Then 6:50. I didn’t mind. I was browsing the bargain CD bin (remember CDs???) At 6:50 my phone rang. I assumed it would be him. It was my mother. She had good news and bad news about my grandmother’s recovery from surgery last week. The good news was excellent. The bad news requires me to sleep at Grammy’s house tomorrow night. No big. Especially because I’m taking a long weekend and have Thursday and Friday off. (I didn’t have yesterday off, but that’s because my company voted for four floating holidays instead of the extra Monday holidays which equals a 4 day weekend for me. So much better in my opinion) I bought a couch last week and it’s coming while I’m on my mini vacation. And then I’m going to paint and get a head start on spring cleaning. It was supposed to be in preparation of having my family over for dinner to celebrate my mother’s birthday. Except because of Grammy’s surgery we moved it to my mother’s house to make the trip easier on my Grammy. Well. Now my Mom was telling me we were maybe going to cancel it. Um. No. I was raised to believe birthdays are important. Your birthday is your day. You get to pick what Mom makes for dinner.

You get to pick the cake. Sometimes your mother even makes you the grown up version of a barbie cake. (see picture) You get to eat dinner in the dining room on the fine china. And Grammy and Grampy and Michelle all come over. For crying out loud, my Mom and J were on their honeymoon during my 14th birthday. So they had a birthday cake for me. AT THE WEDDING. So. We are not canceling dinner just because we have to change the venue again. Dinner is still on, damn it. Even if I’m cooking over an open fire because all the kitchens in the world have burned to the ground. Of course. I’m having this conversation with my mom while in the middle of Best Buy while I’m holding three bargain CDs (seriously. 6 bucks for 14 songs. iTunes can’t touch that). I was one of those people. Wandering the store. Yelling into the phone. I’d like to think I was speaking reasonably, but I’m sure someone thought I was one of those people. Anywho. J didn’t show. So I called. Turns out he had left me a voice mail asking to reschedule because he was helping my mom with Grammy. Crap-ola. Maybe I should start listening to my voice mails. I had driven an hour and a half to get there. There’s a Best Buy 2 miles from my house. This one is 20 miles from home. But we worked it out and I was still able to get the gift. The gift is a [secret]*. And they sell it in a department where each sale is sort of complicated and there were two customers being helped. But the transactions take 10 or 15 minutes. The next guy in front of me decided the sales guys were being rude and not helping him (dude. They aren’t standing around. They are with other customers). So he called [secret] a company that makes [secret] to see if he could buy one over the phone before the sales guy got to him. Dude. Seriously? You can’t wait in line for 15 minutes? Your wife is with you. Why don’t you two have a little chat. Catch up on your day. Talk about all the things you’re going to do with your new [secret]. Or get a smart phone. I was having a grand ole time, entertaining myself with ThoughtCatalog.com posts, so I was good. I was reading through all of today’s posts and then halfway through one a sales guy came to help me. The other guy had left the line to buy his item on the phone. WHILE HE WAS STANDING IN A STORE THAT HAD THAT ITEM. I made my purchase of the gift and my CDs ($6!!). And then headed over to the [secret] section to buy the gift from my brother and I. Except apparently there are no staff people in that section. Now. I had very patiently waited in line once in the store because the staff was all busy with other customers. This time there wasn’t a guy in a blue shirt to be found. I waited a full 5 minutes, looking around. And I know the two guys DOING NOTHING in home entertainment could see me waiting. But I sure as heck wasn’t going across the store to get someone to get some other staff member to help me. So I left. I feel like maybe I turned into that guy from earlier. Except not. It wasn’t impatience, really, it was a “I’ve now spent more than 25 minutes waiting to spend hundreds of dollars in your store and there’s no one to help me” Patience and twitter only get a girl so far. I knew I could make my purchase at the Walmart down the street so I started to go there. But I have this thing about Walmart. It’s not me getting on a soapbox, but everyone knows that company is notoriously bad to their employees. And something about the place perpetuates an attitude towards society that I’m not totally down with. It’s basically make it cheap and sell it cheap. And when it breaks, buy another. I was raised to buy nice things and maintain them. Even if your air conditioner ends up draining through a glue cap you ripped off a bottle (that’s a Grampy original from years ago). This is all to say, I don’t like to shop there when it can be avoided. Instead I headed to Tar-jey. I wanted to make sure they sold [secret] so I stopped in a parking lot to google it on my phone. The Though Catalog post I hadn’t finished reading was still loaded so I decided to sit for a minute and finish reading. And thank goodness I didn’t finish it in the store. It was such a simple post, but it was incredibly moving and suddenly I was bawling my eyes out. With just a couple hundred words it knocked my problems down a bit and reminded me that there are folks way worse off than having to drive an extra hour to buy a really nice gift for someone I love. So, after I finished reading and then confirmed Tar-jey had what I wanted I drove over. Talk about a win. It was $45 cheaper. Yesssssssss. I paid and then headed home. I was starving. Because I hadn’t eaten since lunch at 11:30. And it was 8:30. I stopped at Wendy’s for a chicken sandwich. And couldn’t find my wallet. Luckily I was the only one in the drive through. I had to put the car in park and search through four bags until I found it. When I finally had my card out, the cashier who had waited for me, very patiently I might add, gave me an understanding smile and I told her “sorry about that. It’s been a bit of a day”. A bit of a day, for sure. I drove home rocking out to a new song I just bought (on iTunes). I was totally drumming the steering wheel at a read light. I must have looked crazy to the guy next to him. But I hope it made me smile. Because that’s what I was doing. That’s the only way to live through long crazy twisted days.

*My Mom reads my blog. I want to post this now. But she doesn’t get her prizes until Friday. Hi Mom!

Sam Adams and Jillian Michaels. And why we can’t all just be friends

Posted on January 25, 2012 by rungineered

I wrote a really nice post about running yesterday. And then was too busy running to type it into WW and post it. Instead you’re getting a message from me. Buzzed. On Sam Adams Alpine Spring. Because my co-worker/friends(/ex-friends) decided I needed to flirt with the singer at the bar Because 6 weeks ago I said he was cute (he is!). After a drink and a half (tall ones) he took a break and was sitting at the bar. And they WOULD NOT LET IT GO so I went up to the bar but I needed an excuse to talk to him. So I ordered another beer at the bar. Even though I hadn’t finished my beer at the table. Did I mention it’s Tuesday. And I still have to work tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. We talked for a minute. But I knew it would be nothing. Because a friend that is not a co-worker is an A+ FB stalked and found his girlfriend. But they WOULD NOT LET IT GO. Still. He was really nice. And he’s still cute. And he sings incredibly well. And is there every week. And is better than the last singer they had. Not a total loss.
I always go to the gym after work. Not usually. Always. But we planned this big trip to the bar tonight (when I say bar, I mean slightly over priced bar at a two star hotel in the middle of a tiny town in MA that’s convenient to the office because it’s only a quarter mile away and there’s never traffic in that direction). Anyways. Because we were barring it tonight, I meant to get up this morning. But I’m not a morning person. I hate morning. I think it’s dumb. Morning should really start at…I don’t know…11:30? So the thought of getting out of bed for more than 15 seconds to turn off the alarm that is across the room specifically because I can snooze an alarm beside my bed in my sleep is just too much. 15 seconds, a snooze, and Bam! I am back under those covers. Forget actually getting up to work out with Jillian Michaels. If you think that is happening you should find your local mental hospital. Cuz you crazy! So it was 8:30 and I still hadn’t gotten in any exercise because we went straight to the bar. Which meant no hour long weight lifting work out that I usually get on Tuesdays. On top of that 30 Day Shred with Jillian Michaels arrived the middle of last week. And I let her just sit on top of the DVD. And then planned to start working out with her this morning (hahahaha. yeah right). But when I got home, I knew I needed to check off that dang GHG check. So I put on gym clothes and popped that DVD in. And. Oh. My. I think I’m dead. I’m fairly certain I’m posting this from the afterlife. Laying here now, I’m terrified of what the morning is going to look like. And the morning includes more quality happy fun time with JM. Because I’ll be heading into the city for a volunteer thing tomorrow night. And then I’m going running. So no time for JM after work. Because MA is experiencing a sweet little heat wave (40+ degrees!!!!) and the snow is all melted leaving clear and clean sidewalks. I would like to hurt JM. Instead I’m going to let her hurt me. For 30 days. Straight. You might ask why…

…I have no idea.

Hearts and 21 weeks to summer!!!

167 days minus 14

Posted on January 18, 2012 by rungineered

Anyone who is past the first week of Weight Watchers that claims to not have enough points and still be hungry is crazy (I say this while I still have days like this. So really I shouldn’t judge.) My plate is heaping with a delicious meal. Except really it just looks like it. I’ve got a 1/2 cup rice, 3oz of chicken breast cooked in oil, chilli powder, salt and pepper, and a little chicken broth, and a huge pile of red pepper and Brussels sprouts. I wish I’d known about Brussels sprouts forever. I’m in love with them. Even though I overcooked them a bit tonight. SO if you’re hungry after dinner, consider adding a nice bright green veg. I must remind myself of this next Tuesday when I’m starving and have used all my points and want to just eat all the things.

I’m 14 days into 167-days-of-following-Weight-Watchers-until-the-first-day-of-summer or whatever I’m calling it. The second 7 days did not go as well as the first. But I’m still here. I’m still tracking. I’m still running. I’m still lifting weights. I just drank too much on Friday and ate too much chocolate last week (seriously, how can there still be Christmas candy in the office????) I also missed two smileys this week. Sad faces all around. But I kept myself honest and didn’t try to count the trips from the car into the three places I went to count as exercise (I was tempted. I won’t lie)

I’ll be up at WI tomorrow morning. But dang it if I won’t be back down next week. And I got a 5k in last night. And a FULL 60 SECOND PLANK in tonight. So I’m feeling gangsta! (except, not really. I’m whiter than white. And way too terrified of confrontation to ever be gangsta. Buy Ima let myself be a planking, 5king gangsta.) According to Nicole I had a Nicki Minaj moment. But there was this really cute guy next to me in the fitness center and I didn’t want to yell out Nicki Minaj! and have him to think I was weird (even though I was dancing a little to my music. And other than the fact that I was intentionally pushing my body to the point that I was violently shaking and thought I was going to die right then and there). Anywho. I’m felling good. Dinner was tasty. But now I must do dishes, laundry, and take out the trash. How come no one told 10 year old me that being 25 is nothing like when I played house and it was all dog walking and the perfect job that I never had to go to and meeting cute boys. It’s just a lot of no fun things. Well. Except running races. And traveling. And office parties. And sometimes there’s meeting cute boys/men.

Hearts and Nicki Minaj

153 days til summer snow be damned!!!!!!!!

167-days-of-Weight-Watchers-until-the-first-day-of-summer

Posted on January 12, 2012 by rungineered

Disclaimer: I stole this from my WW blog. I actually wrote this yesterday…

Week 1 of my 167-days-of-Weight-Watchers-until-the-first-day-of-summer is over! (I call it something different every time I write. I think I need an acronym. Or something funny.) And there’s so much to discuss. In my defense, I just left the gym so I’m a little high on endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. And happy people don’t just kill their husbands!

Hmm. Where to start. Well. Check out the picture with this blog. That? That right there? That’s 42 smileys. You can see at the bottom but with WW online you get a check for everyday you track one of these 6 things. And a smiley if you meet all these checks. I met them all. Hooray!! I will fully admit there were days I wasn’t sure I’d drink enough water. And there were definitely days I just wanted to sit on the couch. But I managed to move my body. Every. Single. Day.

Next. I beat the stuffing out of my body at the gym tonight (ok. Technically it’s a fitness center in one of the buildings in my office complex. It’s one of the perks of my company being in a park with other companies. Free gym.) And somewhat shocking, there were only two new people along with the two or three regulars I usually see. I guess those resolutions to work out everyday that the whole world set on Jan 1 have already started to falter. I did three circuits of: standing bicep curls, tricep flys, crunches, lateral pull down (I’m up to 60 pounds of resistance on that bad boy!), jumping lunges, front/side flys, planks, and side planks. I’m most jazzed about the side planks. I could only hold each side for 15 seconds but looking at myself in the mirror I looked…fit. And that was AWESOME! Of course, I’m not going to be able to move my arms tomorrow. Is it acceptable to call into work because I won’t actually be able to type??

I’ve got monthly trivia tonight so I knew I’d want a cider tonight (the bar has it on tap!) so I needed dinner to be 8 points and include oil. Man did I accidently whip up something delicious. 2 tsp. peanut oil, 3 oz. ground turkey, red pepper, mushrooms all stir fried. Then after they were tender I added a little chicken broth a little white wine and a little lemon juice and let it cook down until most of the liquid was gone. So so tasty.

I know tomorrow’s WI isn’t going to be exciting because I’m a terrible peeker and though I dropped 5 pounds by last Friday, the scale hasn’t budged. So, for the week I’ve lost 5. But I think it was mostly bloat when I WI last Wednesday. Still. It’s 5 pounds I’m not carrying around anymore. Ok. Must dash. Time to fail miserably at trivia!

Hearts and side planks!!!

163 days until summer. And counting

Cod picatta

Posted on January 6, 2012 by rungineered

What up home slices???

(I recently learned there’s a difference between home slice and home skillet. So, while I prefer home skillet it really doesn’t have a nice definition)

I made an amazing recipe last night. I wish it had come out a little prettier. It’s cod picatta. And amazing. And I even managed to make it a little healthier. Though I think that’s where my pretty factor went off the rails. It’s essentially some cod in a little flour into a pan with oil in it. 7 tablespoons of oil to be exact. that’s a little much. So I substituted 3 tablespoons of the oil with chicken broth (more of which was added). But the broth diluted it a bit much and my fish didn’t crispify as much as I wanted it to. Next time I think I’ll take out the 3 tablespoons of oil, but I’ll put in a little less broth. There’s also another 3 tablespoons of oil that get whisked in at the end. So I exchanged 1 of those for broth as well. In this case a 1 to 1 exchange was fine. This recipe was another delicious one from Mercato del Mare. It’s my favorite email to receive every week. These two women decided to start a fish market in the North End of Boston. But decided to make it fun. They have fish, prepared meals, teach an oyster shucking class, and send out a hilarious email every week with easy and delicious (and very nearly professional grade) recipes. I ❤ Liz and Keri. The subject line of this week’s email was “What in the name of cod did I eat” referring to the inevitable weight gain most people (including me!) faced last week. I’m bad and I peeked this morning. Looks like I had a little beer bloat going on Wednesday and my WI was a little inflated (ha! it’s not a pun. But it sounds like it is. Right? I’m flying on a full 8 hours of sleep and two diet cokes right now. I have no idea what’s going on).

Hearts and skillets!

PS. Get thyself over to Mercato del Mare’s website and sign thyself up for their email. You’ll thank me.

I make my Sangria with Neosporin. Don’t you?

Posted on December 31, 2011 by rungineered

Yeah. So. Had myself a pretty little kitchen incident tonight. But let first me preface that to say I had a lovely Christmas and it was so fantastically nice to spend 5 days going to visit the people I love and while I was there knowing I’m genuinely liked and don’t feel like I’m in the 6th grade. Because that’s not how life is feeling most of the time these days. It was a perfect little break. And I received some perfect little gifts. My favs include a new knife magnet, reflective vest for running, a picture I saw at a fundraiser that was actually taken by the host of the party I’m bringing the sangria to, and the complete series of the West Wing. (I’ve been asking for that last one for about 6 years and my mom completely surprised me with it. Go Mom!)

My lovely Christmas gifts. From my lovely family

Two other gifts make the top of the list. A speaker attachment for my laptop that is aMAZing. I love to rock out while I cook and it was in use during tonight’s little incident. The last one was a new vegetable/thumb slicer.

The weapon of thumb destruction

I think you can see where this is headed.

I like to slice things. Like potatoes to make microwave potato chips (it really works). Or fruit for sangria. Especially champagne sangria for a New Year’s Eve party. A party with a new group of people who mostly don’t know I’m a bit of a mess. So I wanted everything to be perfect. And evenly sliced fruit is the only way to impress them, of course!

First. Here’s the recipe.

Ingredients:
2 apples, cored and sliced
2 fresh pears, sliced
3 oz. Damiana liquer
20 whole cloves
1 tsp. nutmeg
1 bottle chilled dry white wine
1 bottle chilled champagne
2 bandaids
1 latex glove (these last two are only if you’re me)

You mix everything except the champagne together and let sit over night. Just before serving you mix in the champagne. Talk about easy. And delicious. At least, it better be delicious.

Second. Here’s what it’s supposed to look like.

Photo: From the recipe

To start I went shopping last night. That way I could actually let the pears ripen a bit more, chill the wine, and if I forgot anything I wouldn’t have to rush right back out to get the whole cloves because it turns out the cloves in my spice cabinet are ground, not whole. It was like I was a real grown up. A new liquor store opened next to my Market Basket. I peaked inside while driving by when it opened in late October and it looked kind of sad and a little sketch. I was wrong!! It’s a fabulous place and I sort of would like to move in. The staff are friendly. The place is spotless. Their craft beer selection is actually a craft beer selection not a bunch of Sam Adams and Wachusett (don’t get me wrong. I love both of those. But it’s not exactly what I would call craft beer). And oh my the wine. A huge selection, good prices, and an expert that wanders the stacks and helps you pick out the perfect bottle. Yes please. I suck at choosing wine. I had someone over for dinner and served a wicked sweet dessert wine with dinner because I had a cold and couldn’t taste it and the interwebs said it would be good. Oops. The expert dude (is he a sommelier if he’s not in a restaurant?) pointed me in the direction of the supposedly perfect bottle of dry white wine. And then I asked about the Damiana. He had no idea what Damiana was. I told him it had a citrus flavor. He showed me the triple sec and said it was the closest thing. I have triple sec at home. That’s what went into the sangria. Because I have never heard of Damiana. And a search on Google showed me I had never seen it before either. Anyone drinking it will just have to deal.

I got home, popped the pears in a brown bag to help ripen them a bit more, popped the wine in the fridge, and checked my spices. I made a mental note to buy whole cloves on the way home. Today I stopped to buy the cloves. The grocery store was a mad house. I guess everyone thought everyone else would be at work or still at home and not be at the grocery store. They were wrong. Also, someone needs to tell the woman in front of me in line that ugly sweater party season is over. And that she’s not actually supposed to wear the ugly sweater to the party. Luckily the 12 items or less line wasn’t too long. I came home and turned on the oven for the frozen pizza that would be my dinner. It takes 8 minutes to cook. PLENTY of time to cut the fruit for the sangria because I have that new fangled slicer. Um. No. It took my the entire Sugarland album that was also a Christmas present. In the recipe’s defense, quite a bit of time was dedicated to the stoppage of the blood flowing from my thumb. And searching for a band aid. Because the only ones in the medicine cabinet were for Jimmy Fund Walk blisters and were about six thousand times too big.

I washed the fruit. I put the correct spacer for the slice size I wanted. Then I peeled the sticker off the blade. The sticker that says “SHARP BLADE: Use Extreme Caution When Handling”. No joke I had this thought while I was pulling it off. Well, duh it’s sharp. It’s a slicer. What dumb idiot needs this caution sticker. That should have been my warning. Oh wait. IT WAS! I pulled a knife of my new knife magnet, sliced the fruit, and stuck a piece of apple onto the safety handle thingy for the slicer. And made my first slice. And it was perfect. And I made 4 or 5 more slices. And then the apple piece fell from the handle. Probably because I wasn’t using it correctly. But I didn’t feel like reading the little manual. So I just went with it. And pushed the apple down against the sharp blade. And then pushed my thumb through the blade. It just barely nicked the outer edge of my thumb. And the whole wound is about the size of a pencil eraser. And it really didn’t hurt. But it was bleeding. A lot. This happens when you cut yourself with a sharp blade because it makes a clean cut. I was actually surprise I didn’t swear. Or make any noise at all for that matter. I just walked to the bathroom and pulled out all the wrong bandaids. I searched all through the bathroom. A task made more difficult by the absence of a functioning right thumb. Finally I decided to just slap one on until I was done with the sangria. This next part is a little icky. It was bleeding through the bandaid. At that point I went and found the correct size bandaid. And while my left hand was trying to doctor my right hand all I could think was where’s my Top Chef paramedic? I really need one of those guys to swoop and take care of this business. Which got me thinking. I might keep bleeding. I have latex gloves from an old craft project. I put one on over the next round of bandaids to make sure I didn’t get any blood near the sangria. Food safety first. Always.

Thumb up for food safety. And for stopping blood

I finished slicing. I had finally figured out the correct technique and it was actually kind of fun. I threw it all in a pitcher and left it in the fridge. I hope it’s good. I would hate to waste my flesh wound on something that will just be spit out.

So far, it looks pretty good.

And it was a good thing I put on the glove. I did keep bleeding. And then I started to wonder at what point I would have to start worrying about it not stopping. But it did stop. And now I just have a nice little throb going. So I don’t have to go to the ER and explain what an idiot I am. Which is good. Because I’m pretty comfy in my pjs. And it’s hard to project intelligence when you’ve sliced yourself open on a blade that HAD A WARNING LABEL ON IT.

Hearts and bandaids
Liz

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