Sarah Gone Wild

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this last night while drinking a few bottles of wine. I feel the need to go back and edit, but I won’t. Just consider yourself warned.

I have no idea what I intend to write. Other than this: my feet smell REALLY bad. I just took off my shoes and HOLY BALLS! I think I need to Febreeze those bad boys. Whew!

I stopped at the liquor store down the street from my house on my way home from work. It’s been an incredibly stressful few weeks, with impossible deadlines that my amazing coworkers and I still manage to hit somehow, but geez. It’s taking a toll on my sanity. So I stopped for a bottle of wine or two, and walked out with three. Trust me, I deserve every one of them.

The guy who works there is a middle-aged guy with a Middle-Eastern accent and he ALWAYS compliments me. Today (I’m decked out in my brand new She-Ra t-shirt and old She-Ra trucker hat that eats my head), he told me my ID picture was cute (see previous parenthetical statement for why he checked my ID) and that my hat is too big. Then he said I have far too cute of a face to be wearing a hat that covers it.

First of all, I have three bottles of wine. That means a couple of things. 1) I will be self-soothing soon. 2) I probably really needed to hear that. But most importantly, 3) you’ve already made the sale. No need to kiss my oversized ass.

Then I got in my car and realized that his sales tactic works, because Walgreens has started selling liquor again and I still stopped at his shop instead of the Walgreens next door. And probably will again and again. So you win, Liquor Store Guy. Keep lying and making me feel better about myself and you’ll continue to earn my boozey biz. As Chucky Sheen would say, “WINNING!”

Want to know more about my stinky foot? Lucky you, I’m in a mood to bitch about it.

Last time I wrote about my running, I was worried about my knee. Turns out I had bigger issues. My occasional foot pain was growing less and less “occasional” and leaving me gimptastic for days after a run. And just walking around was getting a touch uncomfortable at times.

It wasn’t until a few weeks after the half marathon that I was in enough pain to do something about it, and I went to a foot doctor recommended by a fellow runner (the awesome breast-cancer’s-ass-kicking, dissertation-writing, marathon-running, smart-as-shit cousin-in-law Dianna). After weeks of taping and stretching, with fracture-free xrays, the pain was still intense. I got up to 14 miles in training for the full marathon (New Orleans Rock ‘n Roll) with the equally amazing, awesome, ass-kicking Teresa, but realized I was not only holding her back but potentially causing real harm to my foot. So I stopped running.

I was also put in a stylish boot:

Don't be jealous!

I wore that damn thing for about 8 weeks, making training non-existent. I recently weaned out of the boot into custom-made orthotic inserts, so now I have to wear tennis shoes every single effing day. And you know what? MY FOOT STILL HURTS.

Yes, I’m bad at remembering to do my stretches. But you would think there HAS to be a way to cure a “wicked case of plantar fasciitis” (direct quote from the foot doc when he far-too-enthusiastically reviewed my MRI scans) and get me back to a point where I can at LEAST walk around my office without limping. But no. The only additional thing I can do, as I learned today, is go in for regular shots to relieve the effing pain while the stretching and resting do their jobs to heal the mad inflammation, bone contusion and fluid build up. Awesome.

Add that to the residual neck and head pain from the accident and it seems like triathlon season is just not going to happen for me this year.

Add THAT to the fact that my OBGYN nurse practitioner told me I may need surgery again for my endometriosis because the insurance company refuses to let a 29 year old woman decide for herself that she never wants babies and therefore doesn’t need all the lady bits that are causing excruciating pain and you have one depressed me.

Add all of that to my ridiculous workload and additional personal issues and you get a girl who REALLY deserves three bottles of wine.

So that’s where I am tonight. What’s new with you?

Can you hear me, blogosphere? I know, it’s been incredibly quiet around here for a while. Lots going on, and in an attempt to not be so negative, I’ve avoided posting much.

But I miss blogging. A lot. Will you have me back?

I’m assuming you said yes. So, thanks! Here’s a quick recap of my life lately to get current, and we can go from there. Ease our way back in.

• Running: Nonexistent. I developed a really severe case of plantar fasciitis about a month and half after the half marathon (which went REALLY well, by the way – definitely a PR, and I beat my goal of 2:45…lay off, I’m a slow runner). I ran the half, then a 5K and 2 10Ks in the following weekends, which in hindsight was far too much. Then Teresa and I jumped back into training for a full marathon, but when we reached 14 miles, I was experiencing so much pain that it was a nightmare. Each run left me practically crippled with pain for days after, and I finally caved and went to a foot specialist. I was in a really fancy boot for a while, and am now in tennis shoes every day with custom orthotic inserts. Still having pain, still not released for impact activities.
• Triathlon training: Also on hold. I would like to be at least bike and swim training, but I was rear ended the Friday before last and am still recovering from a bad case of whiplash. Once I can turn my head fully, I intend to return to the pool and bike in full force. Looking forward to it!
• Weight loss: That should read weight gain. Barf. I’ve gained back quite a bit of weight due to the injury, long work hours and me not even attempting to control what goes in my mouth. I’m really anxious to get back on the fit train, so I joined Weight Watchers officially for the first time. Now I just need to get out of work on time to get to meetings.
• Work: As mentioned, hours have been insane. I can’t believe I’ve been here for over a year now! I love it so much. The long hours can be stressful, and the projects can be frustrating (whose aren’t??), but the people are incredible and make every day at least a little fun. I’ve even been PROMOTED! Woohoo all around. This part of my life really couldn’t get much better.
• Miscellaneous: Teddy is still an absolute doll and the cat is still a jackass. I also recently won a bet with Mr. T and won the right to shave the cat. Once the weather gets nice, that little fuzzy asshole better watch out.

Well, that is probably a really crappy recap, but it is what it is. Don’t worry, there are good things to look forward to, including a full rant about my recent car accident (which is totally bizarre-o), a tribute to unicorns and, of course, lots of self-deprecating humor. But for now, enjoy these excellent finds from the good ol’ interwebs.

Talk to you soon!

By the time I got to work this morning, I had already put in 50 hours this week. I’m wiped and things have just been insane the last few weeks, so I apologize for my lack of posting.

Not much has been going on, really. Except that I’ve gotten fatter again thanks to my long hours and crappy eating habits. And I’m debating on whether I should drop out of the October half marathon, or just deal with my knee pain until then and then go see a surgeon. I had surgery on my right knee about 5 years ago and I can tell the same issues are happening with my left, so I’ll need surgery at some point. Now is just a matter of deciding if I want one last running hurrah or if I should throw in the towel now.

I lean toward one last hurrah. Because I’m stubborn and don’t want to quit.

But my knee does not feel like a happy knee. I work in the attic (third floor) of our building and often have to visit the basement, and those trips have been far less pleasant over the last two weeks. Not a good sign.

Here’s the thing. I can’t even say that I really like running…I like the sense of accomplishment I feel when I complete a good distance, but I don’t like the actual running. I’d rather do strength training and cardio in my basement. But damn it, I signed up for this half and I WANT TO FINISH IT.

But I also don’t want to cause damage that will prevent me from doing the activities I do love, like playing volleyball.

So what’s a girl to do? What would you do? What would Brian Boitano do?

Seriously, I’d love some opinions from the blogosphere. Here are your presents for helping me:

My favorite thing from this week (thanks, Kenz!):

Just ask Mr. T. I spend a LOT of my time (not alot, a [space] lot) bemoaning the monstrosity that is local advertising. Sometimes national advertising, but local budgets and lack of creativity really make local advertising painful.

But then, every once in a great while, something magical happens.

No, not GOOD local marketing, but so-ridiculous-I-can’t-believe-clients-like-this-exist, what-were-they-thinking marketing. Therefore, I give you this – a new area towing company, and perhaps one of funniest, and simultaneously hideous, bit of local marketing I’ve seen in a long while…are you ready?

Camel Towing.

Yep. There’s no tow like a camel tow. Even better, there’s no tow like a camel tow in Comic Sans.

I wholeheartedly believe that the creator of Comic Sans should be publicly flogged, tarred and feathered, then chased by rabid possums through a field of stinging nettles while being serenaded by Bono and stung by prehistoric wasps, finally falling off a cliff into a field of dirty hippies who then make indoctrinate him and force him to live as they do…after they holistically nurse him back to health, of c0urse.

However, if there were ever to be a company worthy of this horrendous font, Camel Tow is that company.

You are welcome.

[From Hyperbole and a Half]

I changed my theme…I’ll need to work on photo sizing from here on out, but I’m not fixing old posts. You know, that whole lazy thing.

Anyway, it’s much more in line with the Sarah Gone Wild theme and I’m a fan. Hope you like the new sass. If not, well, frankly, I don’t really care. I mean, I love you, but I’m selfish and I don’t want to change for you. You’ll just have to accept me as I am, or this really isn’t going to work out.

Gotta go, it’s beer thirty.

I’m not an Internet whiz or anything, but I prefer to host my own blogs and maintain them myself as much as possible. For months and months, every time I log in to this blog to write or delete spam comments, I see “WordPress x.x.x is now available. Please update now.”

Every now and then, I click to update and look at the process…and immediately close out and begrudgingly decide I’ll deal with an outdated version instead of attempting to update manually (which is what you have to do if you host your own URL). The process includes creating a backup (which I should do anyway, but you know, I’m lazy and shit), and accessing the source files to upload new PHP file versions and all that jazz. It seemed complicated, so I ignored it.

Until yesterday. I’ve finally gotten back to working on more web projects and talking about code and all sorts of fun, nerdy stuff, so I was totally in the mood to make this update my bitch.

And I did.  I now have the most recent WordPress version. You probably can’t tell (at least, I hope you can’t tell…please let me know if anything is wonky – you’ll totally be bursting my “I’m so smart” bubble, but that’s your guilt to deal with). But I’m pretty satisfied with my skills.

I also finally got my Google Analytics restarted on this site – it was set up through an account at my old job, which was then closed out, so I hadn’t gotten around to setting it up again. But now, another check. I’m excited to see the reports again, because I love seeing what search phrases bring people here. Highly entertaining stuff. Plus, I geek out over SEO stuff.

So take that, version 3.0. I’m sure 3.0.1 will be released tomorrow like a huge fuck you from WordPress, but until then, I shall wallow in the glow of the satisfaction the comes from my nerdy DIY blog skillz. I’m like the mother fucking unicorn of bloggers right now. Call me the Blogicorn. WordPress is my bitch. Say my name! Say it!

Spank you very much.

In case I didn’t mention…when I came home from the Twilight/New Moon/Eclipse triple feature/midnight showing…this was in my living room:

Yep, my amazing husband made this happen. His brother had to go to Arkansas for a work trip, so T asked him to stop by and pick up my bike. IT’S MY BIKE!!! I REALLY OWN HER!!!

Now, just to be clear, it’s VERY disorienting to walk into your home at 3:30 AM after sitting in a dark theater for close to seven hours and see this. I walked in, saw the bike, looked behind me like there would be someone punking me or something and thought, “Whaaaa…? This looks like the bike from Arkansas but it can’t be the bike from Arkansas because this is Missouri and T worked all day and antique bike fairies aren’t real…OR ARE THEY????”

Then I examined her more closely and decided she was definitely my Arkansas beauty and promptly went to the bedroom, woke up T and asked him how a bike from Arkansas wound up in our living room. He sleepily explained, I kissed him and immediately got on Facebook to share the news. I mean, it was 3:30 AM and I had to tell someone, but it would be rude to call anyone…so thank jeebus for social media!

For the record, I still think antique bike fairies are real. They just happen to be middle-aged men on business trips.

Not actually T's brother

Now I need to prepare for a conference call. Happy Friday, my pretty little fairies!

Or both, whatever.

This past weekend, we went to Henderson/Mountain Home, Arkansas for a “family reunion” on T’s side. Actually, it was a surprise 90th birthday party for T’s grandma and grandpa, who both turn 90 within a month of each other. First, the highlight and reason we were there, T’s freaking adorable grandparents, Tony and Vivian:

Aren’t they so cute? Funny story: Tony still pats Vivian on the ass – he’s a P.I.M.P. The last time they stayed at T’s aunt’s house, when they were leaving, Tony said, “You might want to change the sheets. I got lucky this weekend!” To which Vivian replied, “Anthony Cletus! Nothing happened!” He just laughed and winked. Here’s a shot of Tony in action:

Vivian CRIED when she got out of the car – she had no clue that half the people who were there were even coming. She cried when she opened her cards (she started when she opened ours and saw the money inside – I was relieved she was crying about the gift and not the card because it had prairie dogs on the front and inside said, “Do I smell old people?”). Damn it, I hate it when old people cry! Not fair. Look at that face!

Anyway, those are all the pics you’re getting because I didn’t remember to take any. These were from T’s dad. Now on to the funny stuff:

• Driving down, we passed through Licking, MO. If that’s not funny enough on its own, one of the first businesses we saw was Licking Self Storage. I didn’t know storage was required for that, but more power to ya.
• Did you know that Houston, MO is in Texas County? I didn’t realize Missouri had such an inferiority complex.
• While at the Mountain Home Walmart, I decided to grab some iced coffees from Mickey D’s (I figured it had to be better than the hotel’s swill). While standing there, waiting for my order, a voice whispers in my ear, “I like to see a woman in a dress.” I looked around and saw a creepy old man walking away. He turned and winked. I chuckled uncomfortably…
• Leaving said Walmart, we approached my car to see a toothless old fellow standing behind it, staring at it like it was an alien visitor…he saw us walk up, jumped a little and smiled. “Is this your car?” he asked. “Yep! Sure is!” I replied. He squinted at it once more, muttered, “Scion…” and walked away.
• When T’s grandpa was walking around the party, he stopped and looked at me and said, “Look at that broad! What are you doing later?” I laughed (how could you not???) and said, “I don’t know, you might want to ask T.” To which Tony replied, “Well, do you want to ask him or do you want to have fun?” Wink. He was quite a character.
• We spent some time at the hotel pool and hot tub Saturday night. That is, until one of the girls disrobed her two year old daughter and let her climb into the hot tub, buck-ass nekkid. I immediately left the water and did not return. No diaper, no deal. This isn’t grammy’s house, put some goddamn clothes on that kid.
• T’s sister met a cowboy at the pool and we had a drink with him and his friends. Later, T’s sister told us we missed all the times they said, “I was talkin’ to your kin earlier…” Kin. Wow. I reckon they don’t go to the big city much.
• On the way home Sunday, we stopped at a cute town to go antique shopping. I found a cool vintage corkscrew, a wood-bound cocktail recipe book and an awesome metal cake pan/storage thing…but what I DIDN’T buy and am now regretting 1000% was a vintage Schwinn bike. It was purple and gorgeous. A little bit of rust and a few fender dings, but that’s to be expected. I didn’t buy it and now I’m totally kicking myself. I want that bike. I need that bike. I have to own that bike!!! I see a long drive in my future…

It was an interesting weekend, to say the least, but it was also relaxing and enjoyable. Thanks to the Reverend and missus for watching our sweet Teddy for us…you may be getting to see him soon, if that bike doesn’t get out of my head soon. This isn’t it, but it looked like this:

Oh, how I love thee. WHY DIDN’T I BUY YOU????

One more note…IT’S ALMOST HERE!!!!!!

Where might this be, you ask? Why, Whole Foods, of course!

Don’t get me wrong, I know lots of nice, non-asshatty folks who shop at Whole Paycheck Foods.

None of them were there today.

And the employees are nice. At least, Mr. Ponytail was really happy to help me find all-natural frosting, and I appreciated him facilitating my getting the hell out of there.

But holy shit, people. Here are some lessons for the pompous douchenozzles who royally fucked up my otherwise enjoyable lunch hour and drove me to self-comfort with Bread Co. mac n cheese.

1. You’re shopping at a store founded on the principle of natural, healthy, eco-friendly living. Riding up in a gas-guzzling, overpriced SUV of death means you just shop here because you can afford to and because you think it makes you look good. Fuck off and buy a hybrid already. You can clearly afford that, too.
2. While you’re in that pollutant-spewing behemoth, you are sheltered from the gross, drenching, also pollution-filled thanks to you drizzle falling from the sky – you should brake and let pedestrians cross the street to get out of the weather instead of plowing through like a WEC wrestler on his way to the cage.
3. Maybe you don’t have to work to earn the money you’re spending here, but I do, so kindly shuffle your ass out of the doorway and stop blocking the aisles. I’m here for frosting, not to stare at a sample of organically fancypants cheese.
4. Now that you’ve almost run me over in the rain twice, how about you try NOT driving 40 MPH down the parking aisles? When there are other huge FuckMobiles parked on either side of me, it’s hard to see around them when backing out. And yes, I, unlike you, hit my brakes when I saw you approaching, so you don’t need to honk as you barrel on by. Fuck you very much.
5. The fancy brand of your car does not entitle you to cut me off when it’s my turn at the stop sign. You paid enough for that thing, the brakes have got to be excellent, right? Try using them. Turn signals are handy, too.
6. One last note – sorry my no-name-brand dress and handbag cause you to look at me like you smell something awful. I’m guessing that smell is radiating from the stick currently residing inside your rectum. The crazy unshaven hippie in the corner seems to think I’m overdressed anyway, so I guess I just can’t win. Maybe the lesson to learn here is mine. No worries, if Trader Joe’s had had what I needed, I wouldn’t have come here anyway. Won’t make that mistake again.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my inferiority complex is begging for that mac n cheese. If I denied her now, there’s no telling what could happen.

The walk is over and it was AMAZING. I have photos to share and stories to tell, but for now, I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who has helped me get here. So far, the event has raised A HALF MILLION DOLLARS! How incredible is that? I cried when they announced it at the closing ceremonies yesterday.

I cried a lot this weekend. Once out of frustration, several times out of joy and even more times out of sadness at the stories I heard about those affected by MS. I am so proud to have been a part of this, and have already signed up for next year’s walk. Let me know if you’re interested in joining the kick-ass Wally’s Walkers team!

Also, I am still in the running to be one of this year’s top 25 fundraisers. There’s still time to donate, so if any of you didn’t donate but wanted to, please go here. I heard so many amazing stories about what MS research has accomplished to date, and every dollar helps find the next treatment or even the cure to help others keep walking.

Hugs and kisses to all of my wonderful support team. Amy “Wally” Reno – you are the most amazing person. You have MS and yet you whooped my ass all weekend long. Thanks for always pushing me and telling me that excuses are like cookies – once you have one, all of a sudden, there’s a dozen in your mouth.

Yes, that’s what she said.

Yikes, stripes, people. Tomorrow is day one of the 50 mile Challenge Walk MS.

And I’m so not ready.

I’ve been so busy with work that I’ve used it as an excuse to not work out like I should have been. Last night I did one last short training run and it was hideous. I did my strength training first, then headed out to do a couple miles. A half mile in, I had a side cramp so bad I had to walk. It would NOT go away, and my leg muscles were locking up a little from the strength stuff I had just done. So I walk another mile and committed to running the last half mile of my route. By the time I hit the half mile, I decided I felt okay and pushed myself to finish another half mile so I would at least have run a whole mile without stopping.

Then I felt like I was gonna barf. I could not cool down. Even after a room-temp shower, and standing butt-ass nekkid in front of an air vent, I was pouring sweat. I felt awful. It was not good.

I’m not used to the heat and humidity, so I’m really nervous about this weekend – which is supposed to be pretty damn hot and humid. With a chance of thunderstorms on day 2. Sweet. I’m fine with rain and thunder, but not lightning and not the uber-humidity a storm brings and holds onto until the rain starts.

I’m confident we’ll finish the miles, but I’m afraid it’s not going to go how I wanted. I really wanted to get some good running in (walking is SOOOOO boring and takes forever) and now I think we’ll just be happy to stroll across the finish line.

I want to thank everyone who has supported our team and myself, through fundraising, 20-mile walks or much-needed moral support. I know some seriously awesome people, that’s for sure. I’m so proud to say Wally’s Walkers raised $7,395.62 for MS research, and no matter what happens from here, nothing can take away from that.

I’m going to bring a journal and write about each day. I know this will be an experience like no other and I don’t want to rely on my goldfish mental capacity to remember everything about it. So keep your fingers crossed for happy feet and no intestinal issues. If you could do a cool weather dance, that’d be a friggin’ sweet bonus.

Maybe I’ll see a few of you at the finish line (at 1:00 Sunday at TR Hughes Ballpark, in case you were wondering). Peace out, home skillets!