What I'm Pretty Sure I Look Like When I Run...

I went for a run on Sunday afternoon. It was a pretty chilly and windy afternoon, so there really were not a lot of people out where I run. It was such an eerie feeling.

I was clipping along pretty well rocking to Michael Jackson and the Spice Girls (don't judge) and then I turned around to come back. I was running directly into the wind, which seemed to be coming from all directions, so I wasn't really clipping along as much as I was running like a basset hound. You know what I mean. I looked like this:

Now I'm heading back towards civilization and this guy is on the path and he yells, "God! You're hot!" as I run by. I shot him the "I swear to God if you move an inch I will knee you in the balls" look and ran just a touch faster. Did I mention I looked liked a basset hound? I'm pretty sure I looked like this after the comment:

When I got back to the house and told Scott about it, he started looking into Garmin's for me. Specifically he was looking for ones with GPS tracking so you know, he can watch me run. I kind of feel like my basset hound running style is all the security I need. 

Trick or...Are We Done Yet?!

Ah, Halloween...it is not my favorite holiday, but I do enjoy dressing up my kids and eating 75% of their candy (it's called the candy tax people).

Last night we were apparently the first trick-or-treaters out in the neighborhood. We do not have a set time, just that known rule that when dinner is over and it's dusk-like, you start trick-or-treating.

Jill wanted to wear her kitty mask with her Ariel costume and Aaron was rocking his fireman outfit.

Our first stop was our wonderful neighbors who dumped more candy into their buckets than was necessary. Jillian not so politely turned down the candy thought because "I don't like chocolate." By the third time she said this we had a heart-to-heart conversation at the end of a driveway about manners.

Anyway...

My kiddos were total grouches this year. I don't know why. Aaron was over it by the fourth house and Jillian was all "I don't like chocolate" and I was all like "You don't turn down a Butterfinger!"

By the seventh or eighth house I was carrying a red wig and a fireman helmet. We were going to power through this if it killed me.

We did the small loop in our neighborhood and then worked our way home. It was the longest 40 minutes of my life, but reaped some amazing rewards.

I don't know if it was the fact that they were in school all day or what, but they just were not feeling Halloween this year. Better luck next year, I guess? I sure hope so...how else am I supposed to get all of those Butterfingers?

Oh, and on a side note, my husband posted a photo of my "cowgirl butt" on Facebook that not only sparked a conversation but ended up being a topic of discussion during the drill he ran this morning. It's like the Orlando Heart Walk all over again.

911: Police, Fire or Medical?

All I wanted to do tonight was go for a relaxing 4 mile run. That's it. I don't feel like I was asking for a lot.

So I get to the lake and start stretching when I hear, "Hey lady! Lady! Call the police, this lady, she's crazy. She has my cellphone in her car and I'm just trying to get back to Orlando."

My face was like this:

I immediately regretted not parking closer to the pavilion. Then the lady in question comes walking up with a giant cooler and is yelling, "You're drunk! I don't have your phone! You ruined a nice day by drinking too much!"

Why? I'm just trying to stretch.

Then the guy is yelling at me to call the police and then I see the kid that's with them. Well, crap.

"911: Police, fire or medical?"
"Police...I'm at (yeah, like I'm telling you where I run) and there is a domestic situation going on."
"Physical or verbal?"
"Verbal. Something about a cellphone and the guy is apparently drunk. There's also a kid. The woman is driving a white Pontiac, they are near the entrance.
"Police are on the way. If they go to leave try and keep them there."

Let's pause here for a second.

Keep them there? Who do you think I am? I am  not about to jump into this mess.

"Uhhhh...okay."

The woman drove off, I did not throw my body in front of the vehicle. I waited for the police to arrive and spot her at the other end of the park and went about my run.

I ended up cutting my run short because I have no idea what happened to the man in this situation and I had already had enough excitement for one night.

Only me....only me....

They Cropped Out Your Face

This morning I had a meeting and one of the committee members recently volunteered with me at the heart walk. We were the first to arrive and started chatting. This is how the conversation went:

Me: Hey! Good to see you!

Him: Good to see you! The heart walk was great, there was a lot of news about it. Did you um happen to see the Central Florida Future?

Me: No...why?

Him: This is going to sound bad and weird...there's a photo of you in it and the bad part is that I knew it was you because of your shorts.

Me: What now?

Him: They cropped out your face.

Me: Shut up!

After the meeting he brought me the article and here is my backside in all its glory in the paper:

That is my life people. When I end up in the paper, it's my backside front and center.

The One Where I Find Out I Have a Nonallergy to the Environment

We're going to file this under "My Life is a Sitcom" because honestly, it is. 

I've been congested for a while and finally went to the doctor to find out what in the world it is. In my mind (and maybe from researching WebMD) I definitely had hypothyroidism and maybe Lupus (both are genetic, so I'm not totally crazy).  I brought up my very logical concerns to the doctor, who then laughed, and asked if air conditioning worsens my condition. Well, yeah, I mean it's five million degrees outside and around mid to sub arctic when I go into the office, so yeah. What about spicy food? Well, it makes my nose run, that's normal, right? Right?!

"I know exactly what you have!" "You have nonallergic rhinitis. Basically, you have a nonallergy to the environment." "Say what now?"

A non allergy to the environment? What does that even mean?! I asked her how I could solve this problem and she told me there was no cure, unless the environment changes (remind me to start a letter writing campaign to Al Gore and his team).  I have to use a nasal spray every day for the rest of my life, well unless the environment changes.

So the nurse comes in to discharge me and starts laughing while reading the instructions. I'm glad she finds the humor and sheer ridiculousness that this entire situation had become. 

The laughing did not stop there. Oh no. I called Scott to tell him about this and he laughed. I called my parents and my Dad had to hand the phone off to my Mom because he was laughing so hard. My boss said I should live in a bubble (you know, like the Seinfeld episode) and my other boss said this would only happen to me. 'Tis true, only me.

In all honesty though, I truly believe the most random things happen to me and this only proves the theory.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to research bubbles.

The One with the Light Switch

When we came home from Flower and Garden on Saturday our AC was not working. Scott called our warranty company and then we didn't hear anything. Monday on his way home, Scott called the AC company we normally work with and asked what the deal is. They said they never received the call. We had no air in our house and I was not about to open up all of the windows, for two reasons: 1) we still have damage to our screens and 2) we have a habit of having snakes make temporary homes in our windows.

Can I also mention that it has been in the mid to upper 80's everyday? Yup...awesome. To say I've been a witch with a bad itch would be an understatement. So they finally made it out today and before I tell you how they fixed the problem, let me share this.

Do you remember that episode of Friends when Monica and Rachel lived in Joey and Chandler's apartment, because Chandler's job was not, in fact, being a transpondser, and they could not figure out what the one light switch did? Well, we had this light switch in our laundry room that we could never figure out what it did. Apparently on Saturday the box of Swiffer pads "magically" "fell" off the shelf and switched said switch off. Take one guess what that light switch controls. It has now been labeled.

See, my life really is a sitcom. 

My life is a sitcom

I'm going to start this post with a disclaimer. If you are a member of my family in any way shape or form, stop reading. If you still see me as a little girl that did whatever, stop reading. If, when you see me, you start with the phrase "I remember when you were this big", stop reading. I mean it, you will thank me later.

Let me give you a moment....

Ok, ready? I'm not, but here we go.

I firmly believe my life is a series of moments that can somehow be pitched to a major network as a comedy. No, seriously, and you will see why in a moment.

The other night Scott and I were being....married...and we heard a snap...from the bed. I started laughing, like the mature 12 year old I apparently am, and all operations came to a screeching halt. I told Scott in that moment he better not have broken the bed.

Now this happened the other night and I had completely forgotten about this incident until tonight when, out of curiosity, Scott checked under the bed.

Y'all we broke the bed. I mean we full on snapped one of the wood cross beams.

Oh.My.God.

Seriously, only in my life. So then what does my husband say? "Hey, go get me the duct tape". So now the bed is "fixed":

Please excuse the dust and such.

Please tell me I am not the only one that this has ever happened to? And, if you ever see this as an episode of a really funny sitcom, please tell me so I can claim royalties. Oh, and if for some reason you are an executive at one of the major networks or a television writer, let's chat.