Thing's I'm Digging

Hello, readers!

Today I thought I would share some of the things that I love.  That are consuming my mind.  That I cannot get enough of.  Because, you know, you all care so.much.

Kale quesadillas.  Kale, Tequila, and Quesadillas?  What is not to love??

Getting myself pumped up to run, run run!

Cannot wait to be here in less than a month :)

I can never get enough blueberries.  Nom nom!

Over and Out,

Bubbie

Of Course

Yesterday was a "rest" day for my training schedule.  On Sunday I ran 8.5 miles so Monday is my day of rest and recovery.  Plus I had to work late.  Worked out swell.

My plan was to run a short hill run today and then two longer runs Wednesday and Thursday, since I have to take Friday and Saturday off for traveling.

When I only have three days to run in a week, I really want to make them count.  I knew I would only have a short 30 minutes to run tonight due to plans with the in laws later, so I decided a hill run would be the most effective.  I did not pack gym clothes, as an alternative.  "Just get home, run some hills for 30 minutes, get home, shower, and head on over to dinner!" I told myself.

And I really was looking forward to running today.  (I am one of those sick people who I used to hate that say "I get cranky if I don't run.")

So here I am, about to walk out the office door to go for a much needed and wanted run, and this is what I experience:

Pouring rain.  Thunder.  Lightening.  Wind.  And it is supposed to last for the next THREE HOURS.

Fuck me.
Granny

What my phone photos tell you about me

Being a girl from the North East, I still think cactus' (cacti?) are funny.

I pretend I have a fashion sense when I need to (I don't, I love sweat pants and elastic waist bands)

I love my goofy husband.

During a bold moment, I bought a hot pink ski parka this winter.  *Love*

I love food (shocked?)

Even in the winter I can find beauty in Vermont.

I am legally blind. (True story)

Dressing up for work is such a rare occasion that I needed photo documentation the first time it happened.

I think penguins having sex is hysterical.

I pretend that I am a runner.

I reeeaaalllly love my goofy husband.

i <3 sunsets

Now you know everything about me and we can be internet besties.  You now also know I have no life on a Friday night.

Hugs,

Granny

Too hot to trot

It is hot.  Not too hot, but hot enough.

All I want on days like this is soft serve.

A big raspberry one with chocolate jimmies.  Or chocolate and vanilla swirl with chocolate jimmies.  Or just chocolate, or just vanilla, but there must be chocolate jimmies.

Fuck you, weight watchers.

Soft serve would go so well with the back sweat that is starting to show through my shirt.

Hot and sexy,

Granny

SAHM

Everyone has a dream job.  Real Estate Agent?  Teacher?  Own your own restaurant?  Oscar winning actress?  Author?  Police officer?  Fireman? CEO of a fortune 500? Social Worker?

They all sound great.  And everyone has their own reasons for wanting to have their own dream job.  Some want to save lives, improve the world while others want to make money and be famous and even more people want to just work for themselves, be their own boss.

Usually it has to do with wanting something more out of your life.  You want something beyond what you have now.

What, you want to sit in a cubicle all day?  Never have anything better for yourself?  Same things day in and day out?  Not me, and not most of my friends.  Even my friends (Mr. Brockway, I'm looking at you) who had their dream jobs are already looking at fulfilling their next dream job.  It's never ending.  People strive for improvement in their lives and want to make the best out of their careers.

I don't need no stinking oscar.  And I don't want to teach the youth of the world.  I don't want to own anything ever that might resemble a business.  Instead, I will give you a glance at the top jobs that I would consider my ultimate dream jobs:

5. Cheese Taster/Expert--I love cheese to the max.
4. Country Singer*--This should probably be #5 as it is the job I least want.  Too exhausting.
3. Famed (read, wealthy) food critic, author and blogger--I love cheese, food, wine, blogging, and would love to get paid to enjoy all of those things.
2. Have my own show on the travel channel about travel and food and wine--I love travel, food, wine, and would love to get paid to enjoy all of these things.
1. Stay at home millionaire--self explanatory.

Guess I need to start buying scratch tickets.

Day dreaming,
Granny

To Embarrass Kali

Granny had a wild, wild weekend.  It was very un-granny like.

I am not sure if you are like me (old and fussy), but there are very few drunk people I enjoy being around.  Most drunks are annoying, messy, yadda yadda (myself very much included), and the last thing I would do is list those people (myself included) as being anything but annoying.

Except for Kali.

Kali is my smart, beautiful, educated, healthy, athletic, wonderful friend.  She runs half marathons, she is a nutritionist, she knows good style, she leads a healthy, normal, perfect life with her fiance, Erik, and their three kitties.

And Kali love's the sauce.

That is not to say that Kali is even remotely an alchy.  She is not.  But when homegirl wants to party, she parties.

After nearly 10 years of boozing it with Kali, I have never seen her drunk without a smile on her face.  And that includes when she is booting into the toilet.

This is Kali at least 5 years ago.  Not much has changed.

This weekend I had the pleasure of attending Kali's Bachelorette Party.  And just as usual, after a few cocktails in our room, Kali was beyond thrilled to be going out and enjoying some bubbly drinks.  I have never, ever, had so much fun with Kali (and her wonderful friends).

The night started with me running to the restroom the moment we arrived at our 10 pm dinner reservations.  I returned from the bathroom to find Kali already at a table filled with men.  Shots  had been ordered.  I had been gone for less that 2 minutes.

The night ended at 4 am, with Kali still smiling, in a free limo.

There were a couple of events in between that I think would make a grown man blush (and made Erik's bachelor party pale in comparison).

Thanks Kali and the rest of you wild girls.  This weekend was just what Granny needed to feel 26 again.

Still recovering,
Bubbie

Announcement

I have exciting news to share.

At least, it is exciting to me.

I have been waiting to tell you all for a couple of months now, but wanted confirmation first before I just blurted it across the interwebs.  Of course, most of you know what I am about to say anyway, because I have been far too excited/proud to keep it to myself for the last few months.

No, I am not fucking pregnant, you mother fuckers.  (Calm down, mom.  It will happen someday.)

Today I signed up for the Boston Half Marathon.  In October I will be running 13.1 miles through the city of Boston.

Remember back in February I decided to run 5K?  Well, after I participated in that event, I decided, "If I an run 3 miles, hell, I can eventually run 13!"  And so I started training.  Adding more and more mileage each most week.  Reading running blogs.  Buying proper running shoes and a fuel belt.  Somewhat enjoying running.

I realize for some people, this does not constitute big and exciting news.  Some people wake up and decide "I am going to run 13 miles today" and they do not need to train at all.  They are natural born runners and they make it look easy.  But for me, someone who just back in late February could barely barely run 2 miles and could not fathom running 3, this is a huge accomplishment.  I cannot wait for race day, to be surrounded by other runners, with positive attitudes, doing something that even 4 months ago I could not comprehend.

But that is not to say that it is always fun and easy now.  It is not.  And I am often discouraged.  I beat myself up.  How come in 4 and a half months, I haven't made more progress?  While I am proud that I can comfortably run 7 miles, why can I not yet run 10?  And why am I so slow?  How do I get faster than a 9:30 mile? And how come some days I can only run 4 miles?  And why are other runners out there skinnier and prettier and less sweaty and less red than me?  And why am I not awesome enough to be running a full 26.2 mile marathon?  And while I am at it, why don't I climb Everest without oxygen and create world peace?

Really, I should not be beating myself up.  I know I can do this.  But it will be hard.  I can work through this, negative thoughts in my head be damned.  After all, the majority of this country cannot run 5 miles, let alone 13.  I am proud of where I am and what I am doing, and I will be even more proud when come October 9th, I can add the most earned title after my name: half marathoner.

Kicking ass and taking names,
Granny

Really?

This is a true story, and it should not be surprising at all.  Of course the only excitement in my life comes from mother nature...

Last night when I left work it was 90 degrees and humid.  I decided to do my 4 mile run at the gym.  I ran, got sweaty, and left the gym to shower at home, my usual routine.

As I drove home, I could see the most insane lightening show, hear thunder, see trees bending from the wind.  It was the most insane wind I have ever experienced.  My car was having a hard time making it up the interstate it was so windy.  There were branches down everywhere.

I pull up to my 'hood and there are 6 trees down.  I make it to our condo and there is a lovely huge white birch down blocking my way in.  I park Caroline the Corolla on the street, sprint into the house and...no power.

Not only no power, but the house is soaking wet near all of the windows that we left open.  Papers from the table are scattered all over the house from the wind.  The dishes in the dishrack were blown over back into the sink.

"Ok, no big deal," I tell myself.  Power will be back on once the storm stops.

Then I got a call from Mr. G.  "I just watch the main transformer on Route 4 blow up.  All of Quechee is without power."  Fucking swell.

And then it hit me.  I was a hot, sweaty, stanky-ass mess.  And I couldn't take a shower.

Cut to me running out in the rain, trying to get as wet as humanly possible.  I dashed upstairs, stripped down, took a bar of soap and rubbed it all over me.  I then grabbed a wet wash cloth (still wet from the shower the night before) and rinsed myself off.

I am Pioneer Granny, doing it old school.

(*Note, I now know that if you are on town water you can use water, it's just not hot.  I grew up with a well, and when you have a well, you cannot use water when you don't have power.  I have always associated no power with no water.  Lesson learned.)

I finished with 15 coats of deodorant and an equal number of sprays of perfume to cover up any stench that was left.  And off to dinner we went.

We ate at our local bar by candle light.  They have a wood fired oven and cooked for us in that.  But other than that, every.thing. in town was out of power--gas stations, pizza joints, hotels, restaurants...no power.

We got home, still no power.

Let me tell you a little secret--I am one of those annoying people who cannot sleep without a fan.  Even when I travel, I bring a mini fan with me.  This is the number one reason why I hate camping; no fan.

Not only am I a whiny baby who cannot sleep without a fan, but it is summer, and it get's hot in our bedroom with no fan.

I slept a lovely total of 2 hours last night.  I was hot and sweaty.  It was too quiet.  It was so quiet I could hear the grass growing outside.  Every time Mr. G changed his breathing, I heard it.

When I was in a state of half-sleep, I kept imagining the power came back on.  And so I would wake myself up to see if in fact the power had returned.  It had not.  This happened at least 8 times.  I dreamt all night of my fan turning on to provide me with some noise and air to sleep to.

Not even joking, at 6:25 am, a whopping 5 minutes before my alarm is set to go off, the power came back on and my fan started whirring.

This is my life.

Tired, still dirty, grouchy,
Gran

Sorry?

I hate when I read blogs and the blogger starts out by writing "So sorry I haven't been blogging, little readers!  I have been so busy...yadda yadda yadda."  The only time this is acceptable is when the blogger is someone who has a famous blog with thousands and thousands of daily readers who are depending on that blog to get them through a boring day at the office.

For most of us, that is not the case.

Why should I apologize for taking 6+ days off from blogging?  Nobody gives a flying fuck.  Of my 37 whopping followers, should I apologize to the one loyal reader I have (hi shnookums)?  No, because not even he gives a flying fuck, as he is forced to sit down and read my blog whenever I write.  It is not like he reads it on his own.  In fact, the usual evening banter at the Goodwin house goes something like this:

"honey, I blogged today."
"oh, ok, when I am done doing this really important thing [insert picking nose, scratching back, doing absolutely nothing] I will sit down and read it."
"good, there will be a quiz on it later."
"...sigh..."


Perhaps someday (read: never), when I have more than the grand total of 37 followers, and people know who I am and stop me in the P.Chops to say "OMG are YOU granny?!?!  I love your  blog!  Keep posting, it is the only thing that gets me through the day!"  THEN I will start apologizing if I miss a few days of blogging.

But not until then.

Holding my ground,
Grams