Whipped eggs and such

Y'all loved talking about food and what Erik eats so much the last time, I thought I'd share this little bit more.

Oh, first - let me tell you that Erik and I ran a 15K this morning. I promise my post about my commitment to run three half marathons is coming, right now I want to talk about foooooooood! Yay - sustenance. (I sound like a crazy person. A crazy person who wakes on a Sunday to run 9 miles.)

A few months ago, as I was walking the aisles of the grocery store and Thanksgiving was approaching so I did what anyone would do, I bought some mayonnaise. Some low-fat mayonnaise, because turkey sandwiches were on the menu and I wanted to have supplies on hand.

I planned on eating many a turkey sandwich, personally I like them with cranberry, cheese and sprouts. So thanksgiving has come and gone and we've cooked at least two turkeys, but here's the thing – that mayonnaise it still in my pantry and a turkey sandwich now comes with mustard and not mayo. That bottle of mayonnaise I bought four months ago - it expires in May. Tomorrow, I'm bringing it to a bin for a food bank donation.

Everybody's doing it

I've just hung up the phone after a heated conversation with my mom. It all started when she asked about what I thought about the Josh & Fergie scandal. I honestly told her, I didn't have a strong opinion. Rumor has it Josh hooked up with a stripper. His bigger mistake, in my opinion, was blabbing about it on the movie set and then someone who overheard tipped off the gossip mags. As for the convo with my mother, not caring was apparently the wrong answer. All of the sudden, my mother is adjusting her mitre and has a holier than thou stance on infidelity.

"You have to admire Elin. How she's filing for divorce and walking away from Tiger Woods." my mother continued growing agitated. That's not what I've read, but it could happen. The reports are that Elin has consulted a divorce attorney but she has not publicly filed and supposedly Tiger is locked up in a Mississippi sexhab.

The conversation with my mom continued with me throwing out names like David Letterman, Bill Clinton like we were old friends or neighbors and my mother proclaiming to have all the facts and none of the compassion that comes with having made ones own mistakes. She seemed so smug, shouting at me with her back firmly against her own metaphorical closet door oblivious to her own skeletons.

Suddenly, she wanted to turn it into a WWYD? "What if Erik was having an affair!" she asked. I was flustered and frustrated and didn't even want to think about it. (Can't we talk about what we are having for dinner?) Instead I ended the conversation by saying, "One thing I know, I wouldn't tell you." Oh, snap.

Then this morning, John Edwards decides to officially come clean and fess up to fathering a child with a co-worker while his wife was dying of cancer and he was running for president.

At the same time, the mystery of the NYC billboards looks like it's another cheating man and a woman scorned.

Ugh! Can't everyone just keep it in their pants?

I have a dream

There's always SO MUCH pressure to come back with a humdinger of a post after you haven't thrown anything up in awhile. One should have a viable excuse. Or some exciting news. Or something. I've got squat. Yeah, I've been working. Oh, and I'm training for not one - not two - but THREE half marathons. I know it's so ridiculous it deserves it's own post. (forthcoming)

So yeah, I "ran" 8 miles this morning. And I say "ran" because when I am unable to breath or my iPod goes apeshit and throws the $%#*&@#$*!!!!!! Annie soundtrack into the mix I have to grab the handrails and throw my legs to the side and get to pressing buttons and try to retrieve that Ke$ha song. (Sister of mercy, I can't run to soundtracks.) I call it the run/walk/stand approach and I'm going to patent that. So don't steal it. Then I see Erik four treadmills over running, waving his arms and mouthing the words "What. Are. You. Doing? Run!!"

Okay, so in California you're not allowed to text and drive. So I've taught my kids to text. Tell your dad we're on our way home. I say, as I toss the phone to the backseat. Tell your dad we need milk and eggs. Tell your dad - you get the idea.

And they know (because they have eyes) how to use abbreviations for words. At school this week, they were going over the calendar in Lula's class. One day was marked with the letters:

MLKING DAY

"Milking day?! What's milking day?" my seven year old asked.

Don't get all judgmental. I'm willing to admit that my kid is in a much more diverse class than yours. Seriously the days of the blond-off are long gone. It's just that the way it was written on the calendar, it looked more like a grocery list than a national holiday. And her teacher agreed, because she took out the dry-erase marker and added the proper punctuation:

M. L. King Day

In Case Of An Emergency

We finally took the girls skiing! It was amazing. We had a great time. We forwent the costly lessons and spent the first day on the bunny hill together. We'd watched a few instructional videos before hand, so they could make french fries and pizza slices with the best of them.

On the second day, I'd stocked up on a few supplies from our hotel vending machine, including a package of M&Ms. I solemnly tucked them deep into an inside pocket of Hazel's winter coat.

"Here" I said, "If you get separated and lost in the woods, you'll have something to eat until the snow patrol comes to rescue you."

Wide-eyed, she shook her head in agreement, "Good idea, Mama."

I could never do this with Lula. She'd inhale her treat before we even left the parking lot. Towards the end of the day, I convinced Hazel to divvy up her loot and we all got a little chocolate. I wonder if she even realizes how far out of harms way she actually was.

Year End Round Up

The day after Christmas, we were at a birthday party for one of the girls friends. "How was your Christmas?" one of the moms innocently asked. It was if someone suddenly pull-started a lawnmower - my mouth opened and I couldn't or wouldn't stop until the whole nine yards was down. "Shut up!" the voice in my head said. But "Oh, and then....." came out of my mouth.

I remember last year, Christmas 2008, when another friend had exclaimed that spending the holidays with his ex-wife and their two kids and his new boyfriend had been one of the best holidays ever. I tried to wrap my head around the whole idea and was inwardly envious of the sentiment. Last year I was on the mend with a broken arm. The economic meltdown was heating up. We were in debt. Things looked bleak and they weren't slated to get any better anytime soon.

But as I reflect over the past twelve months I have to happily report it didn't get any worse. In fact, it got a whole lot better. Sure the fish died. Yeah, we're still in debt. I still wish everyone would pick up after themselves more - myself included. I think the marriage could use a bit of work in the communication department. Or maybe not. (I've been joking over the past few days that instead of having a midlife crises Erik is going to have a midlife "get it all together".) If it ain't broke - walk a mile in a pair of ten-year-marriage shoes - they aren't exactly comfortable or, come to think of it, fashionable on a daily basis.

The past two weeks have been wrought with nonstop fun and togetherness. There was the amazing trip to Disney for Hazel's birthday. Followed by a Christmas prep week where Erik took one for the team by taking on a freelance project. Christmas eve we went to the gym. Then last minute shopping. Then a church service. Then out to a fancy dinner. On Christmas Day we reserved a Mini Cooper Convertible from ZipCar and tooled around SF like tourists. We hit Tahoe for three days taking the girls skiing for the first time. I carved and shredded my way down the hill without breaking a bone and winning many a X-Game gold medal in my mind. We planned our own New Years Eve Party with balloons, decorations and toddler sized lobsters from Chinatown. Erik played golf and went to the last Raiders game of the season. I squeezed in the solo trip to the movie theatre just before the time ran out of our holiday.

(Here is where I learn to hush, lest I start to sound a bit too braggy and insert camera phone image to prove point)