It's in the details

Okay so it's the small things that matter and if you don't believe me - you don't drive a car.  or cook.  or are married. 

If your windshield wipers are old and decide that they really don't appreciate their place of work in the universe as the cleansers of your personal vehicular window happiness and rather would prefer a life in Florida or landfill near your home then on the next rain/sleet storm text me how little details matter. 

I could continue on the minutia that clogs up our lives - (aka the shit that really matters) but that would take too long since minutia is kind of personal.  AKA marry the right person.  If he is doing something that makes you want to put an ice pick into his skull ,. . . . you need to choose again - unless prison food excites you.  

I'm sorry.  Details. details. um. details.  yeah they matter.  try typing without punctuation.  it freakin matters.  Get a prescription filled if they can't read EXACTLY what that asshole (I mean genius with too much God complex) wrote in chicken scratch.  Now that's an overstatement since my personal doctor is an East Indian woman who I absolutely adore beyond words but I've had assholes so there you have it . . .

So you know I have to say I'm actually humbled today.  I am being completely sincere in being sorry for Demi.  She's a bit (7 years) older than me and has had an f'ton of work done but she is still gorgeous!!!  BUT she is apparently crazy needy.  I feel that. 

I get being so stupid focused on the MAN  you are with that you lose who you are.  I will never ever want to be that girl again.  BUT I get wanting to appease.  I get wanting to be appealing.  I can't imagine being with a hot actor 15 years younger than me!!!!!!!!!!!  OMG I pick a man 10 years older to assuage ANY doubt on the scale of hotness.  To him.  i rule.  Yeah..  DEMI.  pick again.  Pick better.  It's in the details.

For those about to EAT - WE SALUTE YOU!!!

I am trying to NOT go all eat pray love on all ya'll but really this year.  .  . . it's hard.  I want to.  I have so much to thank the LORD dear JESUS YaWeH. for.  I have Money that got us out of debt for.  Just a mortgage to pay and daily bills - no past debt.  Nice house to live in -  bedrooms for every kid (3) plus us and then a workout room!!!!  I have a nice job and great people I work with and for.  I may be not paid enough for what I do but I am compensated by being with amazing people and being in charge of my world.  That really does rock.  I have a physical body that still does what I say and qualified for the Boston Marathon.  I sleep a nice sleep with that. 

I have crazy kids who drive me nuts but love me and for the most part listen.  I have an amazing husband who rocks my world and makes me smile in multiple ( :D) ways (yes please!!!)

I will share massive turkey pictures tomorrow - but tonight is just a shout out to those I love.  I love you all and am glad to have you in my life.  People are forever.  Know that.......  "D thanks for forever !!!

Oxtails and Artichokes

SO if you are reading this - you are either 1) me or 2) not me but someone who knows me.  Therefore you get that I am a weird foodie chick with both a gung ho spirit and food allergies.  I can WANT to eat a lot of crazy shit but can't eat a lot of crazy shit because I can't eat wheat or oats and need lactaid to eat dairy.  BUT really I'm mad fun on the dance floor. 

So this blog is brought to you by the the letter Q and the number 13.  Soundtrack - Queens of the Stone Age - Album rated R.

I am so into old school food with a twist it's not funny.  I love foie gras with a stupid passion and I don't care how many fowl needed to die a fat and happy death to make my pleasure happen.  They are animals.  Yum.

I miss venison and wish I could find me a hunter here in the great state of VA that could knock a few over for me.  Have a boy in mind to ask (hey Zac!)

I love venison - oxtails - artichokes (yeah title and all).  Turnips, carrots, potatoes, sweet and not, parsnips, beets - celeriac - garlic - gotta love the old school  root veg and such (yeah I know garlic - not a root et al ). But it's what you do with it all that speaks to me.  I'd rather die than eat jello,  so very freaking leisure suit Larry, but not everything vintage is bad.  There are some things that just should be classic.  Audrey.  Black tight pants black tight sweater.  Hair pulled back.  classic. yup.

There are just some things that should die a death with rocks piled on top never to come back.  Parachute pants for one.  Neru jackets 2, Hammer pants UGH! 3!!!!!, okay so sue me I'm a child of the 80's.  Bell bottoms are hard but I can do flares so there's hope for me.  (after thought - think Dallas - HUGE hair and shoulder pads - really?  I need to look BIGGER?)

But with food it's different.  I will never make nor eat an aspic.  NOPE.  rather die.  to jello like.  (have we established I hate jello unless there's vodka in it?)

So really - it's hard core with me - either it's basic mac and cheese (no not the box) or grilled cheese with tomato soup or breakfast for dinner or something you would all recognize - spaghetti and such or meat loaf, or it's really something nobody but me really would touch.  Yeah I made Roger eat tongue and he liked it and didn't know it.  BUT besides that.  I'll eat anything if someone has made it and loves it.  I'm the bizarre food girl.  Hell yeah.  If you love and make and EAT it y'own'self - I WILL EAT IT.  Unless there's wheat or dairy in it and I don't have lactaid. Though I have been known to just say f' it and do it anyway.  I won't die - just wish I did.

Dinner tonight is classic root veg, red wine reduction, seared animal (beef) flesh YES - beef burgundy.   AND HELL yeah - cheap ass burgundy!!!  it's reduced so you gotta love the cheap wine.   The kicker is NOT using olive oil but either duck fat or bacon grease.   :D  you will thank me later.  Bacon grease is close to God.  and yes I know it's pig which I don't personally eat but as a gentile I CAN.  You can tell Jesus on me later.  I'm sure he cooks with it too.   Not certain but IMHO HE does.

So at the end of the day.  Jello sucks unless there's vodka.  and vintage is cool if -  well - you think it so.  Unless it's a "members only" jacket and then you are just lame.  Way to go uncle rico!!!

Running rules - bring a towel

Okay so I have been running as a fun exercise thing since very early on.  Okay so I WAS in track in HS  - though it was hurdles and short distances and then briefly did I do CrossCountry OMG a whole freaking 2 MILES.   If I could put that into bigger caps it would be the size of my head since that's really how I saw that whole   "MILE" thing.

Flash forward to 1986 -  Married to THE Tim - I was working at a software firm as help desk PRE kids.  I thought it would be "fun" to start running on my lunch hour.  Welcome to the world of no toenails and blisters.  I fell in love with being sweaty and tired.   AND then had kids x3.  Jumping rope in my living room kept me home for the peanuts and kept me fit.  Enter the Bucket list.

I decided to run a marathon before the marathon was past my age group.  So being married to THE Roger I let said family know this was in the cards and for the next 8 months Mommy (aka wife) would be preoccupied - focused and otherwise a crazy person until November 12 around noon.  And that is pretty much how it went down.  I over trained - over ran and pretty much began to hate all things running and shoe related.  But still I continued.  I had blisters on my blisters and then it happened.  The end of all things good.  Day light savings time.  Could you shoot me in the freaking head already?  I wanted to crawl into bed and sleep but then it was basically only one week to MARATHON - GOAL - You know the thing you have been training for like FOREVER!!!!  I had lost sleep and almost lost my husband to my methodical "gotta run" philosophy.   It was in my sights and I had trained hard for it.  I was gonna do it - but I really just wanted it over.  I did.  I wanted to be post "first one" so that like a veteran I could talk the talk and move on.  Being a marathon virgin sucks.  You are just "in training" until you cross that line.  THEN you got it.  You are the shit and it matters what you say.  Okay to another runner at least.  But just saying.  It means something to gut it out when your body is screaming at mile 21 that what you are doing is shear madness and unless you stop there will be anarchy.  All systems will stop and you will be a puddle lying in the street - we promise you girlfriend - we are serious and we have such power.  AND then you get a powerade and suddenly all systems go.

BUT that is not what this is about.  This is a call to runners of the world.  Really? you need to farmer snot?  I am from Wisconsin.  I know from snot.  I have run for years.  WITH a towel.  NOW you may say that I've read far too much Douglas Addams - and that may be true - but dear Jesus.  really.  My snot does not need to land on another runner.  bring a towel people.  your ass is full of bottles of weird liquids that frankly as far as I see are futile since there is a water/powerade/ gel break every 2 miles.  You are bouncing like JLO on the dance floor and yet a tissue is not to be seen.  Thanks.  ALSO.  If a girl is approaching you and you are running in an odd fashion - let me pass.  Thanks.  You are scaring me.  Strange man with no shirt and only a speedo.

Frankly it's all good and at mile 25.5 I got to sprint to the finish and felt like a freaking rockstar.  I finished in good enough time to qualify for the Boston.  Hello?  really?  I would NEVER do it but hey - YEAH!  bite me.  I'm good thanks.  Roger is thinking he wants to do the Richmond next year with me.  I say -

bring a towel.  :D

Pia Jesu Domine - Donna AIES Requime - Okay so my Latin is rusty

Let's talk dog smells.  I love love love my animals.  Male, female, human, canine, Guinea pig reptilian oh, Jesus - I love the creatures in our house who are invited to live here.  Spiders are NOT - and will subsequently be squished by the nearest shoe possible.  Thank you. Management.

Now that said. Dogs freaking smell.  I would rather have my left or for that matter right arm cut off than own a fucking cat.  Oh did I type that?  I hate cats.  I just do. Deal.  They're cats - they will form an allegiance against me and I'm ok with that.  I hate them.  They don't need us so let them find food and mice on their freakin own and leave me out of it.  I hate cats.  Not the musical - it was much better than Cats I'd see it again and again . .  . .  .   Sorry. . .

Dogs are dumb and need me.  Or they are smart and STILL need me.  Like men.  Oh did I type that?  LOL! 

I love my dogs.  Even the one I have learned to hate.  She is an ankle bitter and NOT my dog,.  I even love the bitch (yes she is) who has eaten underwear more than she's worth!  But my poor dumb sweet pit boy is hands down my favorite.  My dear sweet Domino.  Dear Jesus could there be a sweeter dumber idiot?  NOPE - Dom you win.  Short bus to school!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

So dinner was sticking the incredibly tough steaks that Roger picked from my crazy store into the crockpot for 8 hrs to make them melting into the mouth good.  crockpots make everything good.  enjoy.  okay so I put into the london broil some burgundy - some jalapenos - garlic onion and green peppers and some water.  Time is the great equalizer. 

enjoy.

Next Saturday is my first marathon.  Nervous. scared. intimadated - ugh.