My Life, As Told Between (Baby Cakes') Naps

We started off the weekend Friday night having dinner with T’s mom, who was here on a four hour layover on her way to Costa Rica, and brother at a cute little restaurant suggested by a friend of mine.

Got up early Saturday morning for my first long run (14 miles) since the marathon three weeks earlier. It was great to be back out there running. Got to know some fellow runners that I’d seen but had not really had the chance to talk to, caught up with an old friend who’s been out for the last ten weeks due to a running injury, and received a compliment from a fellow runner who’s been out of the country the last five months. She thought I’d lost weight since the last time she’d seen me! (This, of course, totally gave me license to pig out the rest of the weekend.) Oh, and the actual run was nice too.

After the run, I dragged T out of bed and we had a wonderful brunch at a local restaurant. Feeling sufficiently stuffed, we headed out to the beach to meet up with my little sister L, who had announced the day before that she was in town with nine of her best girl friends. After ten minutes with a gang of giggling girls, T and I had to call it quits and headed out to do some bike shopping. Two test rides later, we found the bikes for us. My key criteria in bike shopping was finding one that I would be able to stay on. Fortunately, although wobbly, I managed to stay upright despite it being decades (literally – more than one decade!) since I’d last ridden.*

(Isn’t she a cutie? She’s little, but powerful. I’m going to give her a big, intimidating name, to make up for her diminuative size.)

Saturday night was spent at the Frog’s surprise going away party. I think we did a pretty good job gathering together lots of the Frog’s closest friends and family members for a big bash. (We love you Frog and will miss you horribly!) Surprised even myself by staying at the party until 2am. Didn’t get to sleep until 4am (due to some time collecting and ensuring that our drunken friends were all okay and could safely get home). =)

Sunday started off with another brunch, this time featuring the Frog, the Wombat, Savor, and KM (who is sadly blogless). Got back just in time to meet the realtor for some condo-shopping. Saw one that was almost perfect, but it’ll probably be off the market by the time we’re actually ready to buy (July). It gives us hope that we’ll find something we both really like come July though.

Finished condo-shopping just in time to rush back to the bike shop before it closed to pick up the two bikes we fell in love with on Saturday (but were unable to pick up because we had to hurry home to catch the UCLA game).

Collapsed, exhausted in our bed early Sunday night.

*Note: I did a little bit of bike riding in Santa Barbara with my Quad friends, but I was the caboose on a tandem bike, which totally doesn’t count.

I miss my old co-workers, J and A, who became very good friends in the two years I was working at my old firm.

Today, someone brought in a box of chocolates to share with the office. The chocolates are sitting at the receptionist’s desk, tempting me. I’ve already swung by to grab a few pieces but that merely fed the craving for more. Sadly, the receptionist’s desk is waaaaaaaaay on the other side of the office from me and I can’t think of any excuse to wander over to that side of the office and surreptitiously steal some.

If J or A were here, I’d send them out to get some for me.

(And if you have to ask why I don’t just got get some more myself, you wouldn’t understand the answer.)

Back from a fabulous weekend with my Quad friends. We started the weekend with wine, gossip and cheesy picture taking on Friday night. Very relaxed night of hanging out and catching up in our adorable beachside cottage rental.

On Saturday, we took some picture and then walked to the beach and rented tandem bikes. Biked just long enough to get some (more) good pictures. During our bike ride, we stopped to on the beach for a bit to take incredibly cheesy, embarassing-to-think-about pictures. Although I groaned at the time and feigned disinterest, I’m (secretly) glad we took them. =) I just can’t stop looking at them and smiling.

After the bike ride, the picture taking, lunch, and more picture taking, we drove to some local wineries to do some wine tasting. Drank wine, took pictures, had an impromptu picnic at one of the wineries, took pictures, and then headed to Solvang, a cute little Danish town nearby, where we (surprise!) took more pictures and drank more wine.

Headed back early enough for a quick nap before heading out to dinner. Sadly, due to my poor planning and the surprisingly cold weather, I was forced to wear a hideous jean on jean outfit that earned me the moniker “Tex” (as in “Texas tuxedo,” a term I made the mistake of sharing with my friends).

Fortunately for me, we ended the night early, as none of us felt like squeezing into an Irish bar with tons of drunk college students (and I especially did not want to be spotted in my Texas tuxedo). Plus, we had to wake up early the next morning to take more pictures before heading home! All in all, it was lovely to catch up with my girls and I’m looking forward to our next annual Quad Reunion trip. =)

Sadly, these days, I’m finding it all too easy to go too long without seeing some of my best friends. We all get caught up in the day to day routines of our lives. I see some friends frequently because they’re part of that routine – my work friends, my running friends, my dinner party friends, my going out friends, etc. But I see other friends very seldomly, either because they’re too far away or, sadder still, they’re very close but we’re not a part of each other’s routines anymore.

One of my best (Quad) friends actually lives in LA, but somehow we’ve both fashioned lives for ourselves that don’t really include each other. I know she’s always there for me and I’m there for her, but the only time we really spend any time together is during Quad reunions – one of which is coming up this weekend! We’re taking a break from our routines and heading out to a beach-side cottage in Santa Barbara for our third annual Quad Reunion. (We went to Vegas two years ago and Tahoe last year.)

I hope we manage to take a trip together every year, regardless of what life brings us. It’s all too easy to take friends for granted and assume they’ll be there when you need them. I’m trying to remember how important it is to nurture these friendships in the in-between time. That gets even harder when one gets into a relationship, as the Frog very eloquently pointed out. (Speaking of which, T.’s sulking a bit because this SB trip was originally supposed to be a couples event, but we changed it recently and disinvited the boys.)  I’m very fortunate to know so many stellar women (and a few stellar men) and I never want to get so wrapped up in my life and my routines that these friendships fall entirely to the wayside.

To my (three) friends who read this blog: I may not always need you but you are always always wanted!

One of T’s best friends from high school visited us this weekend from Boston, bringing his wife and newborn son (Q) with him. Several other high school friends drove down to LA to meet Q.

Isn’t he a cutie? He looks a bit like the Travelocity Gnome in that outfit. =) I think he liked me best – T claims it’s because Q likes the fact that we almost see eye to eye (he really just can’t get enough of the short jokes!).

T and I babysat for a few hours to give the parents a chance for a rare diner alone. We’d spent much of the day with Q and thought babysitting would be relatively easy. From what we seen, he was a very well behaved, good-natured baby. He wasn’t mobile yet, had just been fed and would be going to sleep soon. How hard could it be?

What we didn’t realize was the near neurotic need to make sure nothing happened to Q on our watch. We simply sat and stared at him sleeping for several hours, periodically peering intently to ensure we still saw that little chest moving. It was nerve wracking! I can only imagine how parents do it…

I am insanely obsessed with sweets, as Fat Mikey (aka my belly) can attest too.

On Sunday, I decided to wage war against Fat Mikey. So far, he’s winning the battle.

On Monday, I decided I needed a day to recover from the marathon. I can start my diet on Tuesday, I reasoned. Fat Mikey agreed that this was for the best.

On Tuesday, it occured to me I should eat all the chocolate at the apartment so I wouldn’t continue to tempt myself. Fat Mikey thought this was a brilliant idea.

On Wednesday, one of my co-worker’s started selling chocolate for her son’s school. I had to buy one and supoprt my co-worker’s son, I rationalized. Fat Mikey concurred.

On Thursday, I did a host of chores that had been neglected for awhile. Naturally, I had to snack while doing them to keep my energy level up. Fat Mikey started to gloat.

Today, well, today I discovered this site. I fear all hope is lost. My only salvation is that I’ve eaten all the chocolate in my apartment already (a better plan than it sounded at the time!) and I’ve forbidden my co-worker from selling me any more candy. So now I just need someone to sit and monitor me for the rest of the day to make sure Fat Mikey doesn’t do anything devious – like sneaking off to the store to buy chocolate while I’m not looking.

[Update] Fat Mikey struck at 1:15pm, after lunch. Before I knew it, I’d eaten half a bar of dark chocolate purchased at my local Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.  Woe is me.  Double woe is me for having to get into a swimsuit and go to the beach tomorrow!

The LA Marathon was yesterday. Of the three marathons I’ve done, this was far and away my worse one yet. I think part of it was that I’d eaten too early the day before and was starving even before the race started (despite my friend’s thoughtfulness in sharing her boiled eggs!). I then ate too much during the run in an effort make up for it, but it didn’t digest in time to give me any extra energy – just an upset stomach!

“Hitting the wall” is when you’ve burned through your body’s fuel and it feels like you can’t put one foot in front of the other anymore. In a marathon, this often hits around mile 20 because your body can only store a certain amount of calories to burn (or something like that, but more complicated). Although I generally find the last 6 miles of a 26 mile run difficult, I’ve been fortunate in that I’ve never really “hit the wall,” at least not like yesterday. Yesterday, I felt like the wall fell on me around mile 15.

The new downhill course also did a number on my toes. I lost feeling in some of them relatively early on in the race. Combined with my waning energy, upset stomach and the unexpected heat, it was all I could do to keep running. Rather than enjoying the race, I spent much of it focused on just finishing. One. Step. At. A. Time. I finished in 05:23:17 and while I’m happy that I was able to finish the marathon without taking any extra walk breaks, I’m disappointed that I finished 33 minutes slower then my time last year and 48 minutes slower than my goal time.

I guess I’ve learned some lessons for the next race though (either San Diego in June, Long Beach in October or SF in October). And I was fortunate in that I finished without getting sick or needing an IV drip, which happened to some of the runners because of the heat. In any case, I’m giving myself one more day of semi-indulgence before I get back on my diet and attempt to destroy Fat Mikey (as I’ve taken to calling my belly)!

So after a year of dating and three months of living together, I’m afraid poor T is finally confronting the Crazy. I do a pretty decent job of keeping it hidden, with only hints of it peaking through ocasionally – enough for friends to poke gentle fun of but not enough to face full fledge ridicule. But it’s there nonetheless. Lurking. A messy bundle of anxieties and neurosis beneath my laid-back, casual demeanor.  Most of the time I do a decent job of guarding it, but sometimes, something gets it going and it makes a break for it.

The most often sighted manifestation of it is my tendency towards hypochondria. I’m convinced I’m going to die at the slightest sign that something’s out of whack. T is the opposite. He’s convinced that the words “I’m fine” will defeat any and everything, no appointments, pills or follow-ups necessary.

After a particularly persistant cold, T finally went to the doctor’s recently. While there, he had some bloodwork done that showed a slight anomoly. According to the doctor (allegedly), there’s nothing to worry about just yet. I, however, am convinced it’s something horrendous and have been worried all week, although I’ve managed to keep the Crazy reigned in fairly well. Until yesterday. While doing some research on what the anomoly could be and discussing the matter with friends, I became absolutely convinced T has a (relatively rare) genetic condition (completely unrelated to the anomoly) based, mostly, on the fact that he is tall and lanky.

T pointed out the pesky detail that he didn’t have any of the other symptoms. As if that matters at this point to the Crazy. We’ll both probably continue to press this issue until he either caves and goes to see a specialist or firmly convinces us he really doesn’t have any of the symptoms. At least the Crazy’s retreated enough for me to see that perhaps it’s premature to start making a list of all possible ramifications of the condition and drawing up a plan on what steps to take to deal with the ramification. Besides, I’ve got to go back to worrying about the anomoly. . .