Converted

Recently (Sunday), I decided that I wanted to start running in the mornings.

I had been running twice a week in the afternoons after work, and it was going fine, but to be honest, I was a bit unsatisfied. For several reasons.

To begin with, it's hot. Like, 95-but-feels-like-102 hot. Running in that kind of heat is not fun, and the prospect of running in that kind of heat would often result in me loafing around the house for half an hour, complaining, before finally gritting my teeth and getting down to it. And I did it, but I dreaded it. And it was always really hard and really sweaty.

Anyway, my breaking point came, when, on a Friday afternoon I went for a run after work. I ran for about twenty minutes before I started to feel faint and overheated and had to stop and walk. So I stopped to walk, thinking that I would be fine to start back up in a few minutes. Wrong.

Even though I was walking I wasn't cooling down, which of course made me nervous that I was going to die of heat exhaustion. So then I started hyperventilating, walking crooked, and in general freaking out. I was still about a mile away from the house at this point. Not so good.

So yes, on Sunday I decided that Monday morning I would wake up early (at 6!) and go for a run before work.

I'm totally converted. Not only is it cooler, but I also don't dread it because I don't have time to dread it. I pretty much wake up and go (Chris does not). It's less crowded, both on the sidewalk and on the street, which is great. I can run better and longer. And it's so satisfying to have my workout for the day done, and not have anything that I have to do when I'm done with work.

I guess in part I have crew to thank, for instilling in me that, when my alarm goes off, I cannot ignore it and must get up and do something. Also, shout out to my mom, who used to get up super early to go workout with at the YMCA before she was a Jazz-convert. I remember hearing her car pull out of the driveway and being so happy that I got to go back to sleep. I imagine that's how Chris feels now.

Other snaps this week go to Chris, who has officially put up with me for two years. Not an easy task, as anyone will tell you. We celebrated the anniversary of us becoming bf-gf (thanks, Judith) with oysters and champagne.

Yum.

Mixed Success

On Saturday, Chris and I tried to find a dining table for our deck.

Different stores we visited: 6

Number of times we went into stores: 7 (we visited one twice)

Tables we bought: 0

Seriously, I did not think it would be so hard to find a patio dining table for under $40. But it proved to be impossible. We thought we had found a great wrought iron table from a store called Garden Ridge, where everything seemed to be on sale. Except for the table.

So that was a bust. As was Wal-Mart, as was Academy Sports, as was everywhere else we went.

We finally gave up on the table shopping and went to the liquor store, where we're always guaranteed success.

After dragging our hot, tired, defeated souls home, we spent the rest of the afternoon doing this:

Homemade margarita, magazines, sunny deck. Win!

On Saturday night, we went to a barbeque that my work-friend Lindsay and her husband Michael were hosting. Lots of eating and drinking, and definitely a lot of fun.

After leaving M&L's, we continued our going out festivities, and thus spent all of Sunday doing mostly nothing.

Despite the lack of table and the lack of ability to be at all productive on Sunday, I'd say we had a pretty good weekend.

Deck Living

We have a big, glorious deck where, when it's not too hot, we like to sit and read and have a drink.

On his blog, Chris recently posted a picture of his reading material and drink of choice: A novel by one of our fiction professors from college, and a glass of whiskey on ice.

This is my girled-up version. Ahem:

A Little Of This, A Little Of That

This is sort of a catchall blog post, as it's been a while since I've put anything up here, as my lovely sister was keen to remind me:

Me: I've been slacking on the blog

Sister: Yes. Yes, you have

I did figure the news of my work retreat would hold you over for a while, but at this point that news is older than Arnold's illegitimate teenage lovechild. So girlfriend has a point.

So, what have I been up to? Eating, drinking, being merry. The usual. On the day of my return from aforementioned work retreat, the boy I live with and I departed for a canoe trip with some of our New Orleans friends in sunny Mississippi. Despite news reports of massive flooding throughout the region, we managed to find the only river that was still shallow.

Also, if you've never been on a canoe trip as either a) a part of a couple or b) with people in couples I highly recommend the experience. People let their true colors come out, and trapped in a canoe with your partner, those colors aren't always the prettiest.  There was lots of "paddle on the left" "I am paddling on the left" "paddle on the left hard" "I am paddling on the left hard." Silent huffing ensued.

But, we all survived with our relationships intact, and made it home safely. Since then, we've been mostly eating (both), shopping online (Chris) and reading magazines (me).

What else? It's pretending to be spring here, but I've been down this road before. Sorry, Arkansas, you're going to have to do a little better than one sunny day a week before you convince me to pull out my sundresses.

For your enjoyment, photo evidence of my life:

Sausage, tomato and feta flatbread. Yum

My wedding-watching meal

Breakfast while Chris was in Ithaca: lemon-cherry scones, bacon, Arkansas strawberries from the farmer's market, coffee. Heaven.

Shotgun island.

Maybe having this up for all the world to see will motivate him to smile in pictures with me. Stay tuned.

I'm not sure whose bottoms are smaller.

Shotgun island, the sequel.

Ineffective.

Shotgun island, the awkward third installment (Shrek the Third? Really, that was necessary? Really?)

The Clayla Award And Other Stories

Warning: if you are of a sensitive nature and don't enjoy stories of wild antics by members of marketing/sales/editorial departments, do not continue. Know, however, that you'll be missing out on some epic tales.

This is a story I like to call, the Arkansas Business Publishing Group 2011 Retreat.

Chapter One: Arrival

I got to the mountain lodge where our retreat was being held on Thursday morning, and after a few minutes of chit-chat, was shown to my team's table. The entire company was split into nine teams, each with a different team color, based on answers we'd given to a survey taken a few weeks ago. My team included Kelcie, another girl in her mid-twenties who works from home but is really sweet; Johnny, a guy who I'd seen around the office before but still don't know what he does (he just celebrated 20 years at ABPG, which gives you a relative idea of his age compared to mine); Susan, who works in marketing and organizes our events, is one of two other Jews in the office, and is the keeper of the best candy jar; Bill, who is probably in his mid-50s, used to work on Arkansas Business and now is a manager of our annual publications and is nice if a bit awkward; Katie, who works in sales and is kind of mean and standoffish; and Olivia, who is in her sixties and happens to own the entire company. Cool. 

The theme of the retreat was Mission Impossible, and my secret agent name was Baby Face. Though Johnny asked me if that was something people called me (seriously, guy?), my guess is that it refers to the fact that I'm the second-youngest person in the company (got a girl named Rachel beat by a month), and look like I'm 16.

Chapter Two: Activities, Day One

Since a work retreat is kind of like day-camp for adults, we were given a schedule with various activities, or "missions" that we would complete for points. The team with the most points at the end of two days would win the retreat. Though most of them were medium-lame, we were all in good spirits and everyone was a good sport in getting through the first couple of missions, which included memorizing names in a certain order (alphabetically backwards, based on their extension number from highest to lowest, based on their start date from oldest to newest, etc), stacking index cards on top of each other to achieve the most height, and participating in a Company Trivia Quiz Bowl. 

Our last mission on Thursday was a two-hour scavenger hunt extravaganza, designed to get us out and about on the farm-like grounds of the place where we were staying. We were required to take videos and pictures of our team completing different tasks, and upload them to the retreat Twitter account for points (technology is fun!). Different tasks were worth different point values, with 100 being the most of any task.

So we're going along, taking pictures of ourselves spelling out ABPG with our bodies and piling into Susan's 

PT Cruiser convertible. When suddenly, things start to get interesting.

One of the tasks was "Take a video of a member of your team chugging an adult beverage." So Olivia, who proved to be quite competitive, gladly stepped up to the plate. The retreat committee had made sure that a lot of liquor made its way up the mountain, and Susan, who was on the committee, was able to unearth a half-empty bottle of Crown Royal for Olivia's enjoyment. So while the rest of us chanted "chug, chug, chug" in the background, the owner of our company did just that.

Then she jumped in a pond.

Another task was for two members of the team to go in the pond. Points were given depending on how far into the water you went, with 100 points available for fully submerging. Olivia was determined to get the 100 points, and all she needed was another team volunteer.

I should probably mention that, in addition to being in her 60s, Olivia has had three hip replacements and walks with a cane.

So I figured that if she's game for an underwater dip, I, at 22 and no cane, have no excuses. So I signed on board. "That's my girl," she said. "Way to go, sister."

Being a practical person (did I mention she owns our company), Olivia didn't want to have to spend the rest of the day walking around in wet jeans. Nor did I. So we cast our modesty aside, had the men on our team occupy themselves elsewhere, and waded into the water in our team shirts and our under things, Olivia gripping her cane the whole time, despite the fact that it kept sinking down into the mud. It was rather hilarious, and one of the more bizarre situations I have ever found myself in. No one could really believe it, but we had video proof (our entrance into the mud was kept off-video, but we made sure to capture ourselves going underwater so we could get our points. It's all about the points, people).

Jeff, the president of our company, wondered why we let Olivia with her cane do such a thing. We asked him when was the last time he was able to stop Olivia from doing something she wanted to do. That shut him up.

Chapter Three: Cinco De Mayo and the Clayla Award

On Thursday night, the retreat committee threw an after-hours fiesta for all those interested in partying it up with their co-workers. This happens every year on the night of the retreat, and can tend to get a little wild. One year, for example, an administrative assistant named Clayla, who everyone thought was a quiet girl, ended up dancing on tables by the end of the night. Thus, the Clayla Award was born, and each year it's given to the person who, shall we say, loosens up the most.

I started the night with a tequila and tonic, a drink created by a guy who works in sales and known affectionately as Cheech. It was surprisingly good, and got the night started off on the right foot.

Next, we ABPGers bonded together over jello shots (yep), of which there were more than 200, made by a girl on the retreat committee. As the night progressed and more drinks were consumed (we had a margarita machine, a cooler full of beer, plenty of liquor and mixers), people got more and more ridiculous. At one point the president of our company, who'd had to excuse himself for a few hours to give a talk at a nearby business college, walked in and demanded a cold beer. The age range spanned from 22 to 50+, and no one was being shy. It got totally out of hand and was completely amazing.

The Clayla Award, in case you're wondering, went to a girl named Alyssa, who was caught on video singing along to "Jane Says" and dancing by herself in the kitchen. Props to her, when the video was shown and the award announced the next day, she wasn't too terribly mortified.

Chapter Four: Company History

Olivia was on hand on Friday to give the company history, a retreat tradition. Some of it I already knew, like that Arkansas Business was started in 1984 and was born out of a company called the Arkansas Writers Project that Olivia started with the man who currently owns the Arkansas Times, one of our competitors.

Some of it I did not know, like when Olivia was working at AWP they ran a story on businessmen who smoke marijuana, and Olivia was featured as the cover model, using a sterling silver shrimp fork as a roach clip for a real joint, which they lit for the sake of the photo. Or that in the seventies when they "was hippies" as Olivia said, the 12 or so employees got the chance to buy some "really good Quaaludes" from an advertiser; the drugs turned out to be horse tranquilizers. As Olivia put it, "the next day wasn't very productive."   

Chapter Five: Wrap-Up

My team ended up coming in fourth, which wasn't bad, though Olivia was mildly disappointed. We did win the "Best entrance into the pond" award, though. Quite deservedly, I might add.  

Perfect Timing

Every so often, the timing of event is just so. The stars align and fate is on your side, and things work out exactly as they should. Tomorrow is going to be such an occasion.

Chris will be out of town for the wedding du jour.

He's off to Ithaca again, this time to go apartment-hunting so he'll have a place to live come fall. I, meanwhile, am planning on recording the early-morning nuptials, to indulge in tomorrow night, accompanied by two of my favorite things: a red velvet cupcake and some vino.

Since it turns out that guys don't obsess over weddings (I know, right?! Couldn't believe it either), the timing of Chris's trip/Will and Kate's big day couldn't be better. He doesn't want to be there for it, and I don't want him to be there for it. Good teamwork, universe.

The only thing I'm worried about is how I'm going to get through the day tomorrow without reading any wedding coverage. Since I'm not going to be watching it until tomorrow night, I don't want to ruin any of the surprises. It's like trying not to find out who won the Super Bowl the day after the game, since you had to record the live game while you went to a funeral (HIMYM, anyone?).

Anyway, I'm very excited for the wedding. And Chris is very excited to miss it.

A Joyous Occasion

Today marks the last day that Chris and I will have to do the plyometrics DVD from our P90X workout. We still have the rest of this week and next week to go before we are officially done, but finishing plyo is a huge accomplishment in itself.

Though sticking to the diet plan (oops) would have definitely improved our results, I'm still pretty happy with what I got out of P90X. I think I got as much as I put into it, and while no one is going to mistake me for a body builder, my muscles have much more definition than they did at the beginning of this.

Exhibit A being my huge biceps in this picture:

Yes, that's me at the bottom right looking totally swoll. Thanks, Tony!