Outsmarted By a Two-Year-Old

Today after work I stopped by Jennifer's because she had some Halloween goodies for me! She takes such good care of me.

When I walked in, Reed was sitting at the table. A ghost-adorned bucket was in front of him, and as soon as he saw "aintie," he started pulling candy and snacks out and saying, "Open, Ashy."

FYI: He's the only one who's allowed to call me "ashy." The only one.

It didn't take him long to realize he was wrapped around aintie's finger. You can't resist his mischievous grin and adorable baby voice.

So of course I obliged. And before I knew it, we had opened two fruit rope things, a granola bar, a package of cheese crackers, and some fruit snacks.

Oops.

Then Reed wanted to go sit on the front porch. So that's what we did. He decided the dirt from the flower bed would look better on the sidewalk and showed me the gourds that "Mama made."

When we went back inside, Reed found a package of glow sticks. "Open, Ashy."

"No, I don't think we need those now," Jennifer said before aintie could do Reed's bidding. "We have to wait until it's dark to open those."

But Reed was not to be deterred.

"Open, Ashy," he repeated.

"We have to wait until it's dark, baby," I said.

He grabbed my hand again. This time he led me to his bedroom. He shut the door, turned off the light, and said again, "Open, Ashy."

All I could do was laugh. This two-and-a-half-year-old figured out a way to make it dark so we could open his glow sticks. After all, no one had said where it had to be dark.

"Well...um...it has to be dark outside," I stammered. "We have to turn the sun off first."

"Turn sun off, Ashy."

I could do nothing but laugh again. And the only comeback I had was, "It's too high. I can't reach it. We have to wait for God to turn it off."

I don't know that he really wanted to accept that answer, but a Jolly Rancher took his mind off it for a while.

Quotable Quotes

Because I’ve been nearing the end of my read-52-books-in-a-year goal (I’m currently reading books 48 and 49), books have been on my mind lately. More specifically, I’ve been thinking about some of my favorite quotes. Not every quote I find to be inspirational/beautiful/moving comes from a book, but the ones found in the pages of some of my most-loved stories, as well as books I read just this year, made me want to share a few of my favorite quotes in general.

Enjoy!

“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”
– John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

I think this sentence perfectly captures the feeling of falling in love. Everyone says “you just know” when it happens, and I suppose that’s true. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with Randel. It was likely a combination of things—like his devotion to family (both mine and his), the fact that he almost always opens the car door for me, the way he lets me have control of the remote, and his adorable smile. But Green has said it much more accurately and poignantly than I can.


“We’ll be friends forever, won’t we, Pooh?” asked Piglet.
“Even longer,” Pooh answered.
-A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

This is how I feel about mine and Jennifer’s friendship/sisterhood. Through the awkardness and hilarity of elementary through high school, the ups and downs of college life, buying houses, and becoming adults who have to make our own dentist appointments, we have formed an unbreakable bond that I’m thankful for every day. A bond not unlike the one shared by Pooh and Piglet.

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh?” he whispered.
“Yes, Piglet?”
“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”
-A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

I can't include one of my favorite Winnie-the-Pooh quotes without including the other. A.A. Milne brilliantly captured the realness and the heart of true friendship with this quote. This small scene brings to mind the sweetest picture. And isn’t that how we all feel about our best friends?



“The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all.”
-Mulan

I have this quote displayed in my cubicle, not only because it’s from one of my favorite movies, but also because I think it applies to what I do every day. It can be a challenge to come up with witty/interesting/entertaining copy that inspires customers and generates sales. But if I don't rise up to that challenge, I'll be the flower that wilts and withers instead of thrives.



“Leap, and the net will appear.”
-John Burroughs

This was excellent advice for changing careers several months ago—I leapt from Tate and landed in the Hobby Lobby net. This quote also provides some cube décor in the form of a Post-It stuck to my computer monitor. I look at it and get an instant confidence boost.

Don't these snippets of loveliness just make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?

My New Addiction

Surprise, surprise: it's food. More specifically, carbs.

The breadsticks I made yesterday—and which I’m giving you the recipe for—are life changing. You’re welcome in advance.

I pinned the recipe several months ago because the previous pinner proclaimed they were the best breadsticks EVER. How could I pass them up?

I finally got around to making them and won’t go back to boring brown ‘n’ serve rolls again.

These pillows of perfection start off with Rhodes rolls. You have to let them thaw in the fridge overnight. [Note: I planned on making these Saturday, so I took them out of the freezer Friday night. I didn’t get around to making them until Sunday, and by that time the rolls were basically one big glob of dough. If this happens to you, it’s not a problem. They’ll still turn out delicious.]

The magic begins by melting an entire stick of butter. You really can’t go wrong from here. Pour the butter in a baking sheet and cover it with Parmesan cheese. Here’s the really great part: the cheese doesn’t even have to be fancy and expensive. I used Great Value.

Now roll the dough into snakes, like you did with Play-Doh as a kid, and place them on top of the buttery, cheesy goodness. Ignore the phallic-ness of the dough, please.

 

Now it's time to let them rise.

 

I had the heater on since it was finally chilly, and I helped the rising process along even more by rigging up a tent of sorts to put over the pan.

 

You’ve got at least a couple hours to kill here, so this is a good time to take a nap or read or run to the store because you realized you don’t have enough butter for the next step. I chose the latter.

After a couple hours your dough should be perfectly plump, like this:

Now you can preheat the oven to 350*.

 

 

And now comes the final piece of magic: cover those bad boys in squeezy butter and more cheese. [Note: The original recipe said you could also melt butter and brush or spray it on the dough.]

 

 

Please don't mind that deformed one on the left. I kinda dropped the bottle of butter on it. I literally had butter fingers.

 

Now put them in the oven and stare at the clock longingly for the next 15 to 20 minutes. It’s an exercise in will power to wait for them to cool before you tear them apart and dig in. An exercise I failed, I must admit.

 

I mean, how long could you wait after pulling these guys out of the oven?

 

I gave them about a minute to rest and then devoured two breadsticks in a matter of about two minutes. They’re seriously that good.

They have an almost cheddar-y flavor and are soft and buttery and pure melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness.

I’ll leave you with Chance’s words of praise. “Ashley, I’m not gonna lie. I’m feelin’ these breadsticks.” Said while reaching for his third one.

My Week in Review

I know I say this every week, but this week seriously did fly by. Like it got in an airplane and took off. That's likely due to the fact that I had something going on almost every day after work and spent approximately 2.3 hours at home before going to bed every night.

Monday:  After Zumba, I went to dinner at the Wedge with some of my favorite girls (there were ten of us in all). I was a Wedge virgin and now am a staunch Wedge supporter. I ordered the American Pie. It was piled with tons of mozzarella and Parmesan cheese, onion, oregano, and oddly shaped meatballs. The verdict: tha bomb.

Tuesday: My friend Angela runs the child care for a school program called Early Birds, which gives parents the tools and information they need to start teaching their children early, hence the name Early Birds. As you may imagine, some parents don't really want to take a two-hour class on a weeknight and often use the excuse that they can't find a sitter. "You're in luck," the Early Birds people say. "We have free child care during the classes." So I helped her and handled the four- to five-year-olds. We played with pumpkin-scented homemade playdough, read "Mama Llama" books, and colored Halloween-themed coloring sheets. 

Wednesday: I took an online IQ test just for kicks and giggles. Apparently my IQ is 112. The results said I was in the "superior intelligence" category. I'm not sure I believe that, but I'll take it.

Thursday: I ate Sugar Babies for breakfast. I also helped Angela with Early Birds again and just fell in love with this adorable four-year-old named Erick. He was the first child there and did not want to leave his mom. He screamed and cried and wouldn't let her go. When she finally got him calmed down enough to come with me into the room, I asked him what he wanted to do. No answer. "Do you want to play with the cars?" I asked. A blank stare was the only answer I received. So I led him over to the pumpkin playdough and sat down with him. A little later, I had to go attend to some siblings who weren't sharing. I don't know what happened in those few minutes, but all of a sudden I felt a tap on my arm. I looked down and saw Erick, proudly showing me the ghost he had made out of playdough. "Ooh, I love your ghost!" I told him. He gave me the most heart-melting grin and ran back to the table to make another playdough creation. And the rest of the evening, he was my little buddy.

Friday: I used my Sonic $1.49 mozzarella sticks coupon for the fifth time at lunch. They seriously never ask to see it. I'm gonna have to see what other terrible-for-me food I can get on the cheap.

Saturday: I woke up at an ungodly-for-the-weekend hour--7:45--and took Deuce to the vet for a recheck appointment, found out he's doing much better and didn't have to shell out what amounts to an electric bill this time, came home and at a pumpkin spice waffle, taught Zumba, came home and showered, blogged, got ready to teach Zumba at a friend's sister's lingerie shower, went to said shower and taught Zumba and had a blast, came home and showered again, spent time with the boyfriend while watching the OU catastrophe, and crashed. I never expected to move again.

Sunday: I have unofficially decided that Sunday is my official baking day. So today I baked some change-your-life breadsticks that I ate for lunch. Blog post coming soon. Then I met my dear friend Hannah at Buffalo Wild Wings to watch the Cowboys game. After a terribly frustrating and depressing loss, we decided we needed ice cream. So we went to Freddy's. Then I came home and practiced Zumba because I've been doing the same routine four days a week for the past too many months and I need some new stuff. I may never Wop again.

Chatty Cathy Cashiers

Last night I went to Walmart, as people often do when their pantries and refrigerators are empty. I apparently loaded up on $55 worth of groceries and headed to one of the three checkout lanes that were open.

When it took the guy ahead of me four minutes to escape with his one item, I knew we had a chatty Cathy on our hands.

"How are you tonight, hon?" she greeted me.

"I'm good, thanks. How are you?"

"Oh, pretty good. Be better when my shift is over."

I smiled and mumbled something sympathetic.

"I guess it's gettin' colder out there, huh?" she asked. "I hear it's supposed to get even colder tonight."

Well, that's generally what happens at night...ya know, when the sun goes down, I thought. But I refrained from voicing my rudeness aloud and instead just said, "Yeah, it is."

She continued slowly scanning my groceries, taking note of each item I was buying. "You makin' a pie?" she asked.

Hmm...what gave it away? Perhaps the graham cracker crust you're holding? I thought about saying, "No, I just like my graham crackers in crushed form." But once again, I reined in my rudeness and, being the nice person that I am, I answered simply, "Yep, sure am."

"What kind of pie?"

"Oh, dreamsicle something. I've never made it before."

"A what kind of pie?"

"Dreamsicle."

"Green what?"

"No, dreamsicle, like the orange-flavored popsicles..."

"Oh," she said. "Is it any good?"

"Well, I've never had it before. It's from a mix," I said.

She gave me a wink like we were conspiring in some sort of plot. "Cheatin', huh?"

"Um, yeah, I guess so."

By this point, all my items were finally in bags and I had swiped my card. It was waiting for her to do something.

"How old are you?"

Well, that's way outta left field, I thought. "I'm twenty-five."

"You don't look it," she said. "I figured you were about twenty, twenty-one."

I gave a polite oh-you're-too-kind giggle and said something about how I'd really appreciate that when I got older.

I grabbed my last bag from the spinning bag holder thingy and prepared to make my escape.

"I'm forty-three." She just couldn't let this conversation end. "Most people say I don't look my age either."

"Oh wow," I said, likely unconvincingly. "No, you really don't look it," I lied. "Well, thanks," I said, in hopes that I could finally get outta Walmart and away from her incessant chatter.

"You have a good weekend, hon."

"Thanks, you too," I said and dashed out before she could start telling me about the thirteen cats I know she lives with and calls her children.

Fabulous Friday: Lists

Here's the thing: I love making lists. Like, I could make lists all day and be just as happy as I am naming candles, writing about calla lilies, and researching needle felting.

I don’t even care what type of list it is—grocery list, to-do list, 2012 book list (which is nearing completion, I’m proud to say), wish lists—I’m all over any type of list.

I’m so obsessed with making lists that I look for reasons to update my to-do, grocery, and book lists daily.

“Oh, started reading book number 46 today. Guess I better update my list of remaining books to show that it’s ‘in progress’ now.” So I’ll rewrite the entire list. And yes, I do mean rewrite, not retype.

And the grocery-list-making process? I have a magnetic notepad on the fridge, and I write things down as I realize we need them. When I’m ready to go shopping, I rewrite the list in much neater form. I mean, the notepad is full of quickly scribbled scrawls, lighter pen marks due to having to hold the pen in the upright position too long, and covered in blue, black, and even red ink.

Much too unorganized to take to the store with me. So I get out a fresh slice of paper, as my friend Travis used to call it, and rewrite the list.

Here’s where things get a little crazy crazier: I then rewrite it again, this time in order of where the items can be found in the store.

I do similar psychotic organizational tweaks with my to-do lists. Like any normal person, I get a good amount of satisfaction from checking things off my to-do list. But when I’ve completed seven of eleven tasks, the list looks cluttered and out of order. So it’s time to redo it.

Much of my list-making joy comes from putting pen to paper. I can only assume that my obession with making lists and my love for Sharpie Ultra Fine Point markers go hand in hand.

I’m sure it comes as no surprise, then, that when I decided to take on a blog a day this month, I wrote and rewrote post ideas in my handy dandy three-subject notebook.

Ah, the joy lists bring.

Buffalo Moments

Years of reading anything I could get my hands on and writing every chance I got has made me realize that words are weird. If you say or stare at any word long enough, it looks strange. Case in point: my buffalo moment.

This is actually a bit embarrassing, but I now feel I am at a place where I can talk about it.

Picture it: my living room, circa 2011. I was telecommuting, so I was in my pajamas, on my couch, listening to “Family Feud” in the background as I edited diligently browsed the interwebs to delay actually working.

I have no idea what I was reading, but I came across the word buffalo. As ridiculous this is for anyone, much less an Okie, it stopped me in my tracks. I literally could not think of what the word meant. It just looked funny.

Buffalo, I thought. Buffalo… I know I should know what that means. Am I even saying it right? Perhaps it’s boo-falo. No, sounds too pretentious. Is that really the way it’s spelled? Maybe it’s misspelled and that’s what’s tripping me up. No, I think it’s right. What the crap does it mean?
Try as I might, I could not find the definition for buffalo anywhere in among all the info floating around in my head. But by golly, I could come up with the number one answer for the question “Name something a cowboy wears.” A cowboy hat, of course. (Unless we’re talking Dallas Cowboys, in which case it would be a badge of shame.)

But buffalo still perplexed me.

By this point I was really bothered. I knew this was a word anyone else would be able to readily identify. So why was its definition escaping me, a college-educated editor who read and wrote for a living?

I continued to stare at the word on the screen, analyze its spelling and pronunciation, and agonize over why I didn’t know this word anymore. (I suppose it’s necessary to mention that at no point did Googling “buffalo” ever occur to me. Maybe I was just having an off day in general.)

But finally, after a full minute at least, the light bulb went off. Buffalo, Oklahoma’s state animal, I remembered. The big, furry brown lump of an animal! Oh glory hallelujah, I’m not a complete idiot!

I felt so accomplished for finally having remembered what a buffalo was that I momentarily tricked myself into believing I was a genius for having figured it out, as though I had found and named the first ever buffalo.

When I came to my senses and remembered that four-year-olds know what buffalo are, I just felt dumb.

Since then, I’ve dubbed my face-palms/head-scratchers my “buffalo moments.” You know, the few seconds your mind goes completely blank and you can’t for the life of you remember your zip code or what you ate for lunch an hour ago or what side of the car your gas tank is on. [I experienced that particular buffalo moment last weekend and circled 7-11 twice before finally parking out front, deciding it would seem strange for me to get out and look around the car, and eventually just leaving, red faced as though everyone at 7-11 knew what had just transpired in my head.]

So is it just me, or do others experience their own buffalo moments embarrassingly often?

What's Up Wednesday

My computer is being rather uncooperative today, so I'm going to try to hurry this post along. So if you notice any unforgiveable typos and/or grammar mistakes, please blame it on my virus-infected computer.

 

Today I'm...

 

Reading Deja Dead (still), Night Season, and I'm about to start No Plot? No Problem! The latter was written by Chris Baty, the guy responsible for National Novel Writing Month, otherwise cleverly known as NaNoWriMo. Before you ask, no, I am most assuredly not going to attempt to write a 50,000-word novel next month. But I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing (which is, if you'll recall, part of the reason I'm blogging every day this month), and I had this book on my list of 52 books to read this year. Since I'm reading two fiction books, I thought I'd throw some nonfic into the mix. I'll let you know how it turns out.

 

Making chili. Tomorrow is supposed to be cooler than Oklahoma fall has yet been allowed to be, and Friday will be positively frigid, at 50-something degrees. Be still, my cooler-temps-loving heart. So what better time to whip up a big batch of hearty chili than now?

 

Wishing I could afford to begin making all the crafy Christmas presents I'm planning this year. Well, I haven't actually nailed down what I'm going to make everyone yet, but my "Gift Ideas" Pinterest board is chock full of cute and fun project ideas I can't wait to begin. If I can figure out how to keep from spilling the beans to people who will be receiving said gifts, I'll post about them as I go. If not, you'll just have to wait until after Santa visits.

 

Incidentally, I'm also wishing I didn't need to drag myself into the shower, but a quick sniff tells me I must. So off I go.

Life with Chance

For about the last 15 months, my older younger brother (Chance) has been living with me, except for a couple months last summer when he moved back to Tipton to save up some money and spend time with my mom and youngest younger brother (Kendall).

Chance and Kendall

When people found out my sibling and I would be living together again—willingly—they had a range of reactions. The most common were:

a) Why would you want to live with your brother again? Getting away from siblings is the best part of moving out of Mom’s house.

b) Hmm…that’ll be interesting. You’ll have to let me know what a disaster that turns out to be.

c) Ohmygosh you’ll have so much fun! (This was the response I received from most, since most people know how close my brothers and I are and how funny Chance is.)

And the Cs have it. It has been great having my bromate around. [Funny story: I thought I made up the word bromate, but Word didn’t give me a red squiggly line (like it did for ohmygosh). So I looked it up and found out it is a word and it means: a salt of bromic acid. But for the purposes of this post, it means: a brother who is also a roommate.]

Although Chance does tease me when I wear my big blue robe around the house and jokes about me burning everything from toast to a Sunday roast, he’s been a perfect bromate.

If you or someone you know is considering living with a sibling as adults, go for it. The benefits far exceed the teasing and jokes that are standard with brothers of any age. I could write a book about the great things about living with Chance, but these ones top the list:

1. Live-in dogsitter: This was one of the most important for me. In my pre-bromate days, every morning when I left for work, I felt as though I was leaving a three-year-old child home by himself. Irresponsible parenting at its finest, right? And planning vacations? Next to impossible. But when Chance came along, the problem was solved. His work schedule varies, so Deuce is rarely left home for more than six hours at a time. (This may still sound like a long time to some of you, but when the norm used to average between eight and ten hours, six is a walk in the park.)

2. Built-in lawn mower: Lawn maintenance was not something I took into consideration when I decided to buy a house. I was all, “Owning a house will be so fun. I won’t be wasting money on an apartment, I can paint my walls Velveeta yellow if I want, and I can get my puppy back!” I soon realized owning a house also meant I wouldn’t have a maintenance man to fix the air conditioner and leaky faucets, I had to buy a washer and dryer, and I was responsible for the upkeep of my yard…or else the evil homeowners’ association was going to drag me out to my unkempt front yard and berate me in front of the people whose lawns were beautifully manicured (and whose driveways didn’t have oil stains). My first summer I paid a guy to mow every few weeks. When Chance moved in, I thought, Nuts to that. Chance used to mow little old ladies’ yards in Tipton. He won’t mind mowing mine. And he didn’t. [Note: Randel now takes care of the yard since he has more time and a better lawnmower…and so he can prepare for the future.]

3. No more cooking for one: Have you ever tried cooking for one? It sucks. Especially when you’re making spaghetti. I always end up making enough for eleven people. And after three days tops, I’m over any meal. When I lived by myself, I had cereal for dinner many, many nights. When Chance entered the picture, I became Betty Crocker. “Ash, you really don’t have to cook every day,” he’s told me more than once. But as the nurturing older sibling, I feel I do. And I don’t mind because it gives me leftovers for lunch the next day, but I don’t have to eat enchilada casserole until it’s coming out my ears.

4. He tells Deuce good night every night: Chance is a big ol’ softie. And he’ll be the first to admit it. His favorite movie is The Notebook, he goes out of his way to talk to babies and the elderly, and he loves animals. Even my crazy Deuce. And every night, without fail, he tells me good night and then adds, “Good night, Deuce.” This is usually followed with some good night slobbers. It’s pretty cute.

Chance and "that boy Deuce"

5. There’s almost always someone around: Chance is always there to sing a Rihanna or Journey duet with me, ask me how my day was, watch “King of Queens” with me, and just talk about life, love, and everything in between.

See the family resemblance?

When we were kids and had wrestling matches in the living room, tattled on each other every chance we got, and basically hated each other’s guts, I wouldn’t have believed we could get along for more than three minutes at a time and actually enjoy living together down the road. But it happened, and I’ve got the best darn bromate any sister could ask for.

Miscellaneous Monday

I just got back from dinner at the Wedge with some of my favorite girls. Before that I was at Zumba. And before that I was at work. So I haven't had time to prepare a post with a clear and clever beginning, middle, and end. So today you're getting some of my random thoughts.

 

• I'm loving this $3.12 gas. I'm afraid, though, that it's an election tactic and it will end in two weeks. Dear Gas Gods, please don't jack up the price of fuel as soon as the ballots are in. I'm having to pay for insurance now, so there goes lots of money that I can't really afford to go to the pump.
• Randel's mom got me an adorable bear-shaped air freshener that makes my car smell wonderful. I think his fragrance is citrus and sage, or something like that. I get a whiff every time I open my car door, and it's like a little present. Dear Cute Green Bear Freshener (see what I did there?), please keep your scent for many months. My car tends to smell like dog when you're not around.
• I need to procure some sour cream and crackers soon so I can make and enjoy the delectable dips I sampled yesterday at Affair of the Heart. Dear Toasted Onion and Spinach & Herb Dips, you were amazing when someone else made you at AOTH. Please be just as yummy when I pair you up with your soon-to-be best friends, sour cream and mayo.
• Speaking of AOTH, I tried some tastes-just-like-the-real-thing pumpkin pie flavored coffee yesterday. It basically changed my life. After I explained this awesomeness to a coworker, she wondered aloud if the pumpkin spice latte at 7-11 would be a good substitute. Being the self-proclaimed Google Goddess that I am, I looked up some reviews. (Yes, I am that nerdy.) Several people raved about it, so on Friday--when it's finally going to be fall in Oklahoma--I'm already planning to stop before work and try it for myself. Dear 7-11 Pumpkin Spice Latte, please don't disappoint.
• This blog-a-day thing has actually been easier and more fun than I expected it to be. Instead of jumping right in the shower when I got home, I headed straight for the computer and started typing away. Dear Readers, I have made it 22 consecutive days now!

My Week in Review

I feel as though I'm recapping my week every couple days. How does a week go by so fast?

 

Monday: I found out that Deuce will take pills wrapped up in peanut butter-smeared bread and not just hotdogs. This bit of knowledge came at a good time, as I am almost out of hotdogs.

 

Tuesday: I had some plastic canvas purse instructions due Wednesday and wasn't quite sure how to make one, so I stopped at HobLob on my way to Randel's and picked up a plastic canvas purse form, a couple tapestry needles, and some yarn. I practiced that evening and didn't get very far. I hope the instructions I turned in are decipherable and correct...

 

Wednesday: I requested that our library buy The Night Season (the fourth book in the Archie Sheridan/Gretchen Lowell series) because they didn't have it yet and I had read the first three months ago and I really needed to find out what happened with Archie and Gretchen. It finally came in Wednesday. And I've only had time to read about 75 pages. And it's due in a week since it's a new book. I don't see me having time to finish the remaining 200 or so pages in the next four days. I have a dilemma. I might just have to keep it a few extra days and incur the nickel-a-day fine.

 

Thursday: I was working on some tassel instructions for a learn-to-sew kit. I wanted to work out the instructions for myself and decided to try it with Kleenex. Somehow my tassel turned into this adorable friendly ghost-looking creature. She's my cube mascot, so I had to give her a face. She's yet to be named, so if you have any suggestions, lemme know in the comments.

 

Friday: My first project sheet was posted online. Scrolling through the material I wrote about feathers was a proud moment for me. I also wrote the last couple blurbs on this project sheet about Gerbera daisies. [Note: Some of the wording was changed during proofing, so if something sounds weird/bad/confusing, just assume it wasn't my original work.]

 

Saturday: We celebrated Randel's dad's birthday at Musashi's and had a blast. I think Randel and I will have to make dinner at a hibachi restaurant a monthly date. Fried rice you can swim in, tender teriyaki steak, and your own personal chef for the evening--what's not to love?

 

Sunday: Today I spent the day at Affair of the Heart with Randel's mom and aunt Kathy. We saw tons of blinged-out shirts, sampled several different flavored coffees (pumpkin pie was my absolute fave), and admired lots of signs and artwork. We were there pretty much all day--from 11:00 to 4:30. But aching feet were a small price to pay for the Thunder shirt, delicious dip mixes, tortilla soup mix, and great time with Randel's family I came away with.

Dinner with a Rose...or Seven

It's official: I love hibachi restaurants. I had my second experience at one today, and like the first time, it. was. awesome.

The people I was with were a large part of why. My first hibachi experience was wonderful because I was with my wonderful guy, but tonight was spent with him and his family. And when they get together, it's a good time.

We were celebrating his dad's birthday. So Randel and I; his parents; Randel's aunt, uncle, and cousin; and a friend of the family went to Musashi's. We laughed, drank, sang "Love Machine," and in general just had a lot of fun.

 

I got the deceivingly delicious soup again, along with another perfectly cooked steak and eggy fried rice. Oh, and a tasty flirtini that I guzzled before I had a chance to snap a picture. I also sampled Randel's sesame chicken, his mom's lobster and bacon asparagus, and his aunt's salmon. All the food I tasted was excellent.

Here are some of my observations of the evening:

1. Warm sake is disgusting.

2. Lobster is not disgusting.

3. The onion volcano is pretty much the coolest thing ever.

4. Eating rice with chopsticks makes you feel like a boss. (Yes, I'm gangster like that.)

 

5. Next time I dine at Mushashi's I will get the volcano drink. The bachelorette/birthday party across from us had two. I don't know what's in it, but it's in a big green bowl and set on fire. You can't go wrong there.

6.. I will eventually be marrying into an awesome family. [Note: No, we're not engaged. But we wouldn't be dating if we didn't plan on getting married one day.]

Fabulous Friday: Sharpie Ultra Fine Point Markers

It’s that time again—Fabulous Friday!

This week's fabulousness comes from Sharpie Ultra Fine Point permanent markers. Despite the obvious lack of hyphens in the product name (which drives this self-proclaimed Punctuation Policewoman absolutely mad), these markers really are fabulous.

An orange one was included in the office supplies that graced my desk my first day at Hobby Lobby. I immediately fell in love and recently made a trip to Target specifically to buy a pack of them so I would have several of these wonderful markers to use at home.

I’m a little weird with pens. If a pen just doesn’t feel right, if my pen and I don’t have an instant connection, I’ll search high and low for The One. A great pen just puts me in the mood to write, and I find myself looking for excuses to write. More on that in an upcoming post. Get excited.

 

These markers

write so fluidly and precisely and make my handwriting look neat even when it’s not. The only downside is that they bleed through to the next page a bit, but I suppose that’s to be expected when you use a permanent marker to take notes during meetings, make grocery lists, and write journal entries.

The pack I bought has red, blue, green, and black markers. I now want the 80s Glam set. But they cost a bit more than I want to pay for markers that I use as pens—$16. My birthday is coming up, though. Just sayin’…

Please ignore the glaringly unnecessary apostrophe in “80’s.” It has been brought to the Punctuation Police's attention, and a strongly worded letter will be sent to Sharpie straightaway…written with a Sharpie Ultra Fine Point marker, of course.

Best Movies Ever...According to Me, At Least

I had specific plans one Friday evening that consisted of sweats, ice cream, and Love & Basketball. My plans were soon foiled by my realization that L&B, one of my absolute favorite movies, was completely gone from my DVR.

I was irrationally upset that I wouldn’t get to watch it that night. I mean, I’ve seen it well over twenty times, so it wasn’t the end of the world. But I wanted to watch Q and Monica’s four quarters, dangit!

You might be wondering why I don’t own it on DVD. Well, I did, but Chance happened to it. Movies aren’t exactly safe around my brother.

When Chance was about eight, he held a garage sale while my mom was at work one Saturday and sold almost all our Disney movies. She was livid.

He’s not sure what happened to my DVD of Love & Basketball, but we have surmised that he borrowed it and it went missing during one of his many moves—we counted one time, and that boy has lived in something like nine different places in the last three years.

So anyway, I had no way of watching it that night, because I wasn’t about to put a bra back on and go buy it.

I’ve been wanting to watch it ever since…and still haven’t gone out and bought it. So this seems like a good time to talk about my three favorite movies.

1. Love & Basketball:

This movie has it all for me—romance, sports, great music, hilarity, and Omar Epps. Can I get an amen? (Also, Omar Epps looks just like the Steelers’ head coach, Mike Tomlin, amirite?)

But back to the movie. If you’ve never seen it—well, if you haven’t seen it, go watch it like yesterday. It’s about a guy and a girl, Q and Monica, who grow up together. They’re both basketball players and want to play professionally when they grow up. Monica swears she’s going to be the first girl in the NBA.

The movie is set up in quarters, just like the game of basketball. Clever, huh? The first quarter is when they’re about eleven and getting to know each other. The second quarter takes place when they’re in high school. In the third quarter, they’re in college and dating. And the fourth quarter is after college.

I’ve loved this movie since it came out twelve years ago and still watch it every time I catch it on TV, no matter at what point I catch it. I quote the entire movie, find myself singing “I Want to Be Your Man” for days after I watch it, and will never tire of it. Okay, maybe it’s time for me to buy it. I reallyreallyreally wanna watch it now.

2. Mulan:

Now let’s get down to business. See what I did there? This isn’t just my favorite Disney movie or my favorite animated movie. It’s one of my all-time favorite movies in any category. I do own this one and watch it every couple of months at least. L&B does have some great music, but can anything really top “I’ll Make a Man Out of You”? I didn’t think so. I love this movie so much that I named one of my stuffed animals Mushu, after the hilarious unable-to-breathe-fire-but-I’m-not-a-lizard-thank-you-very-much guardian dragon sent to protect Mulan whens she joins the Chinese army.

But seriously, what’s not to love? You’ve got a strong female character, you learn a bit of history, and there’s a hot cartoon character. Sounds weird, I know, but Shang is an animated hottie.

 

3. White Christmas:

 

Once again, this isn’t just my favorite Christmas movie. On more than one occasion I have watched this movie in the summer. It’s just that good. More great music (well, it is a musical), humor and romance, and Bing Crosby’s voice.

 

This movie makes me think of my mom, because it has become a Christmas tradition for us to watch it on Christmas Eve. We settle in with our snack of choice and a Pepsi and quote and sing the entire movie. In addition to our new-ish family tradition of everyone coming to my house for Thanksgiving, this is one of my favorite traditions. Christmas just isn't Christmas without White Christmas with Mom.

 

I'm feeling a movie night soon...

What's Up Wednesday

Books: I’m still pitifully close to the beginning of Deja Dead. I just haven’t had time to read the last few days. My friend Aubrey mentioned that the book moved pretty slow for her. I think I’m going to have the same problem. But as incentive to finish, she’s sending me the first season of Bones, so I need to finish thebook so I can get to watching.

TV: Nothing, actually. I'm trying to remove a virus from my computer. I'm actually using Safe Mode, in Command Prompt with Networking, to type this. I figured it would be okay to miss a day due to an infected computer, but I was so mad about it.

Clothing: A hot-pink tank top under a green and purple Zumba shirt, and black yoga pants. I haven't even showered yet, because I've been working on this computer for over an hour.

Food: Good thing I have enchilada casserole to make up for my PC problems. That means Doritos; taco meat swimming in cream of celery and mushroom soups, enchilada sauce, and green chiles; and layers of sharp cheddar. In other words, heaven.

Work: This week I’ve been working on writing instructions for a plastic canvas purse. The YouTube videos and websites devoted to plastic canvas make it seem as though making a purse is as easy as tying a shoe. And I suspect they’re right. The problem comes in when you try to write out every. single. step. I even went to HobLob yesterday after work and bought a plastic canvas purse sheet, a tapestry needle, and some yarn to practice with. It helped some. But maybe I should try making up a song for it. It works for teaching kids how to tie their shoes.

Basically, what's up with me this week is that I'm trying to get rid of this dang virus so I can operate my computer correctly. Maybe next week I'll have good news to report about my computer.

My Almost-Run-In with a Masked Murderer

At 6:04 this morning, I was woken up by a loud bang. I shot straight up and then was paralyzed with fear for a solid minute. I could move my eyes, so I looked at Deuce to make sure he had heard the noise too, and his ears were sticking straight up, like a Chihuahua’s.

While my body was trying to summon the power to react to the robber I was certain was in my home, my mind was racing. Who’s in my house? Do I have any weapons in here? Maybe a high heel… Oh God, I’m going to die!

After a minute of silence, I concluded that a) the burglar was waiting to see if anyone noticed that he had apparently knocked over the pile of dirty dishes in the sink or b) that I had imagined the whole thing.

Deciding that Deuce and I had not both dreamed about a crash that made our ears perk up, I finally gathered the courage to slowly and silently crawl out of bed.

I tiptoed to the door, carefully opened it, and let Deuce go out ahead of me. He will bark his fool head off at my brother’s car pulling into the driveway, so I knew he’d let me know if a prowler were lurking about.

Deuce trotted down the hall and turned into the living room with no more noise than his much-too-long nails clicking on the wood floor. I took this as a good sign and ventured out of my room.
I flipped on the hall light and surveyed my tiny living room. Other than the remotes strewn across the couch, nothing appeared out of place.

By this time, Deuce had made it to the back door, so I followed him, whipping my head around every three seconds to make sure this light-footed murderer wasn’t creeping up behind me with an axe.

I made it to the back door without incident. I peered out the blinds and saw nothing amiss. So I went back to the front of the house and looked out the front windows, thinking maybe it was just a slamming car door that had roused me from slumber. Not unless the car was IN YOUR HOUSE, my subconscious screamed at me.

Finding no strange cars or people emerging from strange cars, I concluded that my subconscious was correct. There was only one possible answer:

The killer had somehow slipped around me and was in my room, waiting for me. He anticipated that I would figure I had dreamed up the horrific crash and slip unsuspectingly back into bed. Then he'd emerge from under it, wielding the axe I knew he carried.

Okay, bad guy. I'm one step ahead of you, I thought. I crept back to the kitchen, heart beating so fast I might as well have run a mile, and grabbed my butcher knife. Ashley don’t play.

Moving as lightly on my feet as the man waiting to end my life had, I made my way back to my room. I flipped on the light, went to the edge of the bed, and threw the covers up, knife poised.

No killer.

Great, he’s in the shower, where all the bad guys hide, I thought. Figuring my knife was as good a defense against his axe as I was going to get, I walked the five feet to the bathroom, counted to three (silently, of course; no way was I going to let him know I knew his hiding spot), and flung the curtain back.

And then I saw it.

The horrific bang was a result of my shower caddy coming un-suctioned from the shower wall, causing my shower gel, shampoo, and conditioner to fall into the bathtub with a crash that sent me on a three-minute search for an axe-brandishing assassin.

That better be the closest I ever come to a serial killer.

Miscellaneous Monday: An Update on My Bathroom Bestie

It’s official—mine and bathroom lady’s bladders are synced up. This hasn’t been scientifically proven (yet), but I’m not stretching the truth at all when I say that 3 out of 4 times I’m in the ladies’ room, she is too.

The way I see it, there are only three possible explanations for this slightly creepy phenomenon.

1. We drink exactly the same amount of water at exactly the same time every day. I guess the only way to prove this is for us to both document every ounce we drink as diligently as Dr. Sheldon Cooper records his bathroom habits.

2. She has a camera hidden somewhere around my cubicle and goes to the bathroom every time I get up, on the chance that I’m heading to the bathroom. And if I’m not, she still goes in so as not to arouse suspicion.

3. We’re just destined to be best friends (even though she’s in her fifties), and there’s nothing I can do about it but embrace that fact and ask her where I can buy elementary-teacher season-matching vests and sensible shoes like hers.

At least she’s given up trying to figure out where she knows me from. Now when I see her, I just smile at her and pause for an awkward two seconds, in case she wants to ask me if maybe she used to babysit me.

My Week in Review: Photo Edition

Another week has come and gone, and this week I thought I'd fill you in on what I did and saw through a series of pictures I took throughout the week.

 

 I started reading Deja Dead, the first book of the series the TV show "Bones" is based on. I've never watched the show, but I've heard the books are great. I haven't read a good mystery in a while, so I'm hoping this one doesn't disappoint. I'm only a chapter in, so I'll fill you in at a later date.

I found these window markers in my I-don't-know-where-else-to-put-these-so-I'll-throw-them-in-here drawer this week. My dear friend Shawna and I bought them last year and drew a Halloween scene on my front windows. If I could draw half as well as Shawna can (or anything better than a stick figure), I'd attempt to do it myself. But I can't, so I won't.

My, what big ears you have. I have no idea what he was listening to or for, but when his ears are this big, I can't resist snapping a picture.

Thursday was definitely a caffeine-and-chocolate-for-breakfast kinda day. I had a project sheet to start writing and crochet instructions to finish. I have no doubt that my breakfast of champions helped me meet my deadlines.

This poor tree has been dead for over a year now. Saturday's winds blew it right out of the ground. My backyard looks lopsided now, with just one tree.

Somehow, Randel's sweet mom always knows when I'll like something she picks up randomly at the store. She found these key lime bars last week and gave them to me. I finally got around to making them, and they're delicious! They actually taste a lot like the lemon bars Krusteaz makes, but that's just fine by me, because they're divine too.

Randel's dog hates me, but Deuce adores Randel. Deuce pretty much wants nothing to do with me when Randel is around.

Deuce's ear has been bothering him, so I took him to the vet. Not only does my poor baby have allergies, but he also has some infections, in his right ear and in his paws, which he licks all. the. time. Combatting these infections requires three different medicines. He's lucky he's cute, cause this stuff wasn't cheap.

Who has the most amazing best friend in the history of best friends? If you guessed me, you would be correct. Jennifer and I had lunch at Zio's today then went to the outlet mall just to look around. I left with this fabulous Coach wrislet (my first Coach item EVER), as an early birthday present. I tried to tell her not to get it for me, but she wouldn't hear of it. And she even let me take it home today instead of making me wait a month. She said it would be torture for her to have it at her house for a month without being able to tell me about it anyway.

What with the key lime bars and Coach purse, this week has its work cut out for it if it wants to be better than last week.

How I Learned about the Game of Football

After the Red River Rivalry blowout I just witnessed (BOOMER!), I feel it's an appropriate time to tell you how I learned the game of football.

Anyone who knows me well knows how much I love sports. I yell at the TV during games, kick my feet wildly during big plays, and make ridiculous claims when frustrated, such as, "I would make a better quarterback than Romo!" and throw my hands up in exasperation. (Actually, maybe that particular claim isn't so preposterous, given Romo's terrible performance of late.)

But my love of sports didn't always run so deep. In fact (and this is hard for even me to believe), the first thirteen or fourteen years of my life, I hated football. My mom is the one who taught me about sports and instilled a love of all major sports in me. When she'd put the TV on a football game after church on Sundays, I used to think it was her way of telling me she didn't want me in the room.

I mean, I was very vocal about my dislike of this boring and confusing game (shocking, I know). "Can't we watch something good?" I asked many Sunday afternoons. The answer was always no. Football was good, she claimed.

So when she spent the day yelling at the TV, kicking her feet wildly during big plays, and making ridiculous claims about her ability to coach better than Bill Parcells, I concluded that she wanted me out.

I guess I just got so bored one Sunday that instead of holing myself up in my room with a Nancy Drew mystery, I ventured out to the living room, plopped on the couch, and tried to watch a football game. After all, if I ever wanted to watch TV on a Sunday, clearly it was going to have to be football.

I don't remember specifics (this was over a decade ago), but I can only assume the questions started approximately two minutes in.

"What just happened?"
"Did they score a point?"
"What's a false start?"
"So what's offsides, then?"

And the question that took me the longest to understand: "What's a first down?"

My poor mom spent weeks trying to get me to understand the downs system. Understanding it perfectly well now, I honestly don't know what was so confusing. I remember thinking something like, Why would a fourth down be bad? Four is bigger than one, so wouldn't you be excited about getting a fourth down?

When I finally got a handle on the whole downs thing, I got stuck on why they'd punt the ball away on 4th and 2. "Two yards," I'd say. "That's nothing! Why don't they just go for it?"

"Because if they don't make it, the other team gets the ball right there and will have good field position," my mom patiently explained on more than one occasion.

Now I understand coaches' reasoning for this decision, of course, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that sometimes I still think they should just go for it. I hate a wasted drive.

Obviously, I eventually learned enough to follow along and then enough to actually look forward to watching football with my mom all day Sunday. I'm nowhere near as knowledgeable about the sport as she is (I never know who the penalty is on until the refs announce it; she always knows), but I can hold my own and love spending weekends watching nothing but football.

I'm glad my mom never gave up on me (and Lord knows she had every right, what with me asking the same questions over and over), because we truly bonded over football...and eventually baseball and basketball.

My wonderful mom taught me the difference between a false start and offsides, what the red zone is, and the importance of patience and sticking with something...even if it takes you weeks to understand.

Fabulous Friday: Olay Moisturizing Body Wash

Confession time: I'm not a fan of showering.

I'm not opposed to personal hygiene--I hate sweat as much as the next girly girl--but showering is just such. a. process.

When I get home from the gym, all I want to do is plop on the couch...and eat, let's be honest. But I can't go to bed sweaty and gross, because besides the fact that that would be disgusting, I'd be known as the smelly girl at work.

So, in order to not offend my coworkers' olfactory bulbs, I dutifully drag myself in the shower every night (after as much procrastination as possible). And then I dread getting out.

Wanna know why? Because slathering on lotion takes so much time! [Note: It actually only takes about 2.5 minutes, but when you're cold and about to miss the start of your show, it feels like a really long time.]

And you can forget about simply skipping the lotion process. I get ashy seconds after drying off and would be itchy all night if I didn't moisturize.

Enter my favorite product (well, one of many): Olay Moisturizing Body Wash, specifically in soothing cucumber.

Go get some. Like now.

This stuff is liquid gold in my world. It's so amazing I don't even have a bottle of super-hydrating lotion for alligator skin on my bathroom counter anymore.

I don't mind paying a couple extra bucks for body wash if it means I get to step right out of the shower and into my PJs. Well...after the important step of drying off, of course.

This has almost made showering enjoyable. Almost. I'd still rather not do it most nights.

Oh, and an added bonus: even hours later my bathroom still smells so fresh and so clean clean.

10.11.12

You know today is 10/11/12, right? I hate math, but I love numerical patterns and things of that nature.

So in celebration of this momentous date, I give you: 10 of my favorite things, 11 of my favorite posts, and 12 of my favorite pictures.

10 of My Favorite Things:
1. peanut butter
2. fuzzy robes
3. being right
4. zumba
5. spending time with my amazing family and friends
6. massages
7. awesomely bad TV e.g. "The Bachelor"
8. laughing until I cry
9. bright-colored nail polish
10. getting to wear jeans to work every day

11 of My Favorite Posts

1. Those (Sometimes) Simpler Times
2. Are You My Doppelganger?
3. 365 Days Later
4. Anniversary: Take 2
5. It's So Hard to Say Good-bye
6. Fabulous Friday # 8: The Smell of Uncooked Rice
7. Doggy Don't
8. Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler
9. Kids Really Do Say the Darndest Things
10. A Tale of Six Cavities
11. A Day in the Life of a Hobby Lobby Copywriter

12 of My Favorite Pictures:
1. Randel and I made this sad-looking gingerbread house just a couple months after we started dating. I love this picture because it reminds me of the fun memories we made.

2. You all know by now that Deuce is my furry child, and this picture makes me smile every time I see it. He loves riding in the car, and you can tell by his "smile."

3. Besides the laughter, amazing food, shopping, and time spent with two of my favorite girls (Shawna and Laura), the gorgeous Spanish moss trees were one of my favorite things about my Mardi Gras trip.

4. This picture is of a rose Randel brought me one day when I was home sick, along with an icee and  a Baby Ruth (my favorite candy bar at the time). What a guy!

5. The only time of the year my family is together is at Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. We have so much fun playing games, laughing with (and sometimes at) each other, and of course, eating. I have the best family ever!

6. This is my best friend's adorable two-year-old, Reed. He makes me such a happy aintie. I just had to capture his mischevous look.

7. This picture makes me laugh because of how many people thought it was underwear when I posted it on Facebook. I just thought it was pretty. In case there's any confusion this time around, this is a picture of the bottom of the shirts hanging in my closet. I was on the floor doing crunches (my closet is the only carpeted area in my house) and noticed how pretty they were, all color coordinated and wavy like.

8. The day I met Serge Ibaka was one of the happiest days of my life. I was like a starstruck teenager. I mean, the man is gorgeous and famous and a great basketball player and speaks several languages...and I got a picture with him. Swoon.

9. I rarely think to take pictures of nature (probably because I'm not very good at it), but I took this picture of sunflowers when my friend Laura and I picnicked at Lake Hefner one evening.

10. Speaking of Laura, this picture cracks me up. Inevitably, I have my eyes closed at least once when I'm trying to take a picture with someone. My facial expression combined with the closed eyes makes this a sure favorite.

11. It always takes Randel and I about 17 tries to take a decent picture of ourselves. For this reason, we have very few pictures of the two of us, and even fewer ones I like. But I think this one is pretty good. It was taken at Thunder Alley...the night the shooting happened. So there's that.

12. My bestie, Jennifer, and I treated ourselves to dinner at our favorite restaurant (A&E) many many times in college. This is a picture from one such evening. In other news, I miss my long hair...

Happy 10.11.12, everyone!

What's Up Wednesday

I'm milking this weekly feature thing for all it's worth this month. So from now on/until I forget to continue this, you can check out "What's Up Wednesday" to find out what's up with me.

Books: Confessions of a Shopaholic and Deja Dead. I haven't gotten far enough into the latter to give a good verdict, but from what I can gather from chapter 1, Kathy Reichs is awesome with description. And while I can see people being annoyed with Becky Bloomwood of Confessions of a Shopaholic, I find myself identifying with her justifications, because I've used the same excuses many times. Not necessarily pertaining to shopping, but I often binge on Sundays because I'm "starting a diet" Monday. I'm sure I'll have more to say next week.

Food: Well, I haven't made it yet, but dinner tonight is sausage/potato burritos, topped with a mountain of shredded cheese and wrapped in a crisped-to-perfection tortilla. This is one of my favorite meals. Not only does it feed me for about three days, but it could not be easier to make (simply saute diced potatoes and Polish sausage until they're kinda crispy, throw a tortilla in a skillet and crisp it up on both sides, and voila) and it's slap-your-mama good. No lie.

Clothing: Today I was a walking Maurice's ad. I was clad in Maurice's brands from head to foot--shirt, vest, jeans, and boots. Maybe they should start paying me to shop there...

TV: "Modern Family" and "Criminal Minds" are on the agenda for tonight, of course. Thank goodness my fall shows are back. I've missed Jess and the guys, the Dunphy family, Derek Morgan (oh, and the rest of the agents), and Leonard and the gang.

And that's all, folks. Check back next Wednesday to find out what else is up with me.

The Push-Up Challenge

Last night, a friend of mine (a personal trainer and fellow Zumba instructor) posted a push-up challenge on Facebook. Before really thinking about what I was committing to, I commented “I’m in!” Exclamation point and everything.

The goal: 100 push-ups a day
Approximate number of push-ups I can do at one time without collapsing: 3

Herein lies the problem.

Nevertheless, I’m going to stick with it. I’m not actually sure how long we’re doing this challenge—my guess is through October—but I’m going to do 100 push-ups a day for at least the next 22 days.

I actually started last night around 9:00. As soon as I pressed “send” on my comment, I was all, “You got this, A-Dawg (college nickname; don’t judge)! Your arms are gonna be so toned your legs are gonna be jealous! Let’s do this right now. Fifty push-ups…and go!”

After two push-ups, I was all, “Curse your over-ambitiousness, Ash! Dawn (challenge issuer) is a trainer. She probably tells Walmart cashiers to drop and give her twenty when they're moving too slow. What were you thinking?!” Multiple punctuation (otherwise known as an interrobang) necessary.

What I was thinking was that every time I shimmy in Zumba, I’m disgusted by how my “hello, good-bye” arms continue to wave even after I’ve moved on to the Wop.

And with that in mind, I cranked out my 50 push-ups last night (10 at a time) and 30 before work this morning.

And every routine task was made more difficult. I could barely hold my arms up to fix my hair today. Several times I even had to rest my arm on top of my head to give it a rest. Reaching my purse down from the shelf above my cubicle? Embarrassingly difficult.

And forget about stretching. While normally relaxing and calming, stretching today was a form of torture.

I just have to keep telling myself that super-sexy arms are worth a few days of pain.

So when I got home from work, I put my stuff away, greeted Deuce, and dropped to the floor to bang out another 10 push-ups. And I'm pretty sure I pulled a pectoral muscle on push-up numero uno.

This doesn't bode well for the rest of the challenge, but I won't let something like a possibly imagined muscle tear stop me from getting the arms of Michelle Obama.

Photo courtesy of gawker.com

Ooh...maybe then I'll be invited to do push-ups on stage with Ellen...