catheroominations

It’s DECEMBER ALREADY. How did that happen? In 32 days we’ll be in 2007. There are only 24 shopping days until Christmas. Are you finished shopping? Did you start? OK. Enough of that.

It’s not yet 10 p.m. and I am about to hit the sack so I can get up at 5:15 for the last day of bootcamp (this week). But not until I post my SPF pictures. I have priorities, you know!

The assignment was this:
1. Something that makes you go “hmmm.”
2. Something sweet
3. Something retro

Hmmm…I thought about posting a photo of something that makes me go “hmmm,” but I decided to shoot something that would make you go “hmmm.” I saw the spark of light this created and had to take a photo. Do you know what this is?

Sweet! Oh yes, this was sweet. It’s my dessert from dinner tonight. I consider it research because it is from the restaurant that will cater our reception, so I had to eat it. It’s a caramel brownie s’more and it has tiny little Golden Grahams sprinkled all over the vanilla ice cream on top of the rich chocolate brownie. Chocolate and caramel sauces are strategically drizzled throughout, and a slab of scorched marshmallow is propped up next to it. I’ll have to run really fast and far tomorrow to make up for this one.

This is my retro record collection. Several of these albums are also in digital form on my iPod. I don’t know why I keep these vinyl versions because I no longer have a record player, but I just can’t bear to part with them. I have other albums in my closet that are too embarrassing to photograph and post, like that one by my childhood favorites, the brother and sister duo from Utah.

Did you play? If not, you must confess in the comments my telling me your most embarrassing album/CD/cassette tape in your collection.

This playlist is dedicated to all the bloggers who participated in NaBloPoMo. As I gave you a post for each day of each week in November, I give you a song from my own playlist (except for the Simon & Garfunkel tune) for every day of the week, plus some bonus tracks:

Everyday I Write the Book Blog by Elvis Costello
Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2
New Moon on Monday by Duran Duran
Tuesday Afternoon by Moody Blues
Wednesday Morning, 3 a.m. by Simon & Garfunkel
Thursday by Morphine
Friday I’m in Love by the Cure
Always Saturday by Guadalcanal Diary
Something to Say by Toad the Wet Sprocket
So Much to Say by Dave Matthews Band
November Spawned a Monster by Morrissey

Thank you for visiting while I participated in NaBloPoMo. It helps me to write when I know someone is out there reading. Thank you for the comments, and for just stopping by. Welcome to those of you who found me from Fussy’s list of NaBloPoMo blogs and the NaBloPoMo Randomizer. Before starting NaBloPoMo, I was having trouble finding topics for my posts, but for whatever reason, once November began, I could always think of something to post. Some days were harder than others, but it was nice to have the extra motivation, knowing that I had to put something up. every. single. day, or be scratched off fussy’s list. It also helped knowing that so many others were doing it to. I’m a joiner, you see.

I’m going to keep up the daily posts as much as possible, because now it’s become almost part of my daily routine. I’ll have to be accountable to only me this time, which doesn’t usually result in success, but maybe if you all keep stopping by, it will boost me to continue. And if you missed out on NaBloPoMo, but you want to try posting every day, just do it. It’s fun. I dare ya.

Nor can you assume that a man crossing the street on a cold day is wearing a knit cap over his permed hair.

Because it might be that the man crossing the street just has a really really bad mullet.

Oh, it was heinous.

Last night I was exponentially more sore (sorer?) than I was after Monday’s bootcamp session.

I sat on the couch last night with my feet on the coffee table. It was comfortable. Comfortable, that is, until I had to get up. When the urge hit, I had to place my hands behind my knees and pull my knees slightly toward me, to remove my feet from the table. Then I dropped my feet to the floor, and try to stand. To do this, I placed my hands on either side of my hips, and used my upper body to hoist myself off the cushion. Then I tried to straighten my legs to walk, but I needed to use the coffee table for support and to help launch me to a straight, standing position. My thighs and calves were so tight, I walked like I was 85 years old. Actually, more like an 85-year old Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. But this 85 year-old Tin Man waddles like waterfowl a little bit.

Yesterday at work I had to use the large bathroom stall so I could support myself with the helpful bars on the walls. It’s a good thing I have a filter that kept me from yelling “OW!” outloud each time I had to use the facilities.

To get out of my car, I had to grab onto the roof with my right hand and the door with my left, to lift myself out of the seat. I made the mistake of going to lunch in a coworker’s Audi TT yesterday, and almost had to spend the rest of the day in the car because I was stuck.

I kept dropping things too. And I could not pick them up like a normal person, because I was unable to squat. Instead, I had to bend at the waist to reach. And since my hamstrings were so tight, I had to spread my legs a little bit in order to grab what I dropped. I had to perform this in front of someone’s desk when a piece of cantaloupe fell off my plate as I walked by. I would have left it there on the floor, but the dude saw me drop it and heard me say dammit. I didn’t say dammit because I dropped something, but because I had to attempt to get it up off the floor.

Today is a long run. At least jogging will help loosen things up. I think. I hope. I’ll probably look ridiculous, like a running penguin. But everyone loves penguins.

When we were visiting my parents for Thanksgiving, my mom gave me a comic she’d saved for me since it appeared in the October 1 comics section. It’s a “Close to Home” comic that depicts a wedding ceremony. The preacher-type person (who appears to be in pajamas) is standing between the bride and groom, who are both seated at small desks, typing away on their computer keyboards. The preacher is saying something about the couple sealing their marriage by Googling one another.

Ha. Yeah. That’s funny. I guess my mom thinks Matte and I spend a lot of time on our computers. I don’t see why she would think that. Weird.

Although I snickered and appreciated the sentiment, the comic doesn’t really suit our style. Our wedding won’t be like that, with the Googling. No way. That’s totally not us.

At our wedding, Matte and I will be seated with our laptops, which will be projected on two large screens, his Dell projected above his head and my superior PowerBook above my tiara-bedecked head. Our guests will watch, wiping away their tears of joy, as we IM our vows, complete with emoticons.

This morning I woke up a little after 5:00 to go have my ass kicked to the first day of bootcamp. It was dark out. And wet. And cold. And most people in their right mind were still in their cozy beds, curled into the fetal position under their toasty down comforters, snoring and dreaming of lovely things. But not I. Because I am insane. But at least I’m not the only one.

I can accept my insanity, but what bugs me is how completely out of shape I have become. The warm-up tired me out. I used to run 10Ks and I can’t make it through a warm-up? I was huffing and puffing, making O’s with my breath in the air. (Actually it was oh sh!ts but huffing the word sh!t doesn’t result in much of a shape in the frigid air.)

My muscle memory needs some ginkgo biloba because my body has forgotten how to run, jump, skip, lunge, and repetitively lift things weighing slightly more than a can of soup. For much of the hour, my parts screamed, “What are you DOING to us? It’s still night-time, right? Why are we even UP? And dammit, woman! Would it have killed you to put on another layer? We’re freezing here! And this ground you’re sitting on while you stretch? It’s WET! Oooh, you’re gonna pay for this one, Missy!”

My wheezing drowned out the voices, mostly. But now, as I sit on the couch, the parts are still yelling. My quads, hamstrings , and calves are pissed off. And my glutes hurt in places I didn’t even know could hurt. You know what? It’d be easier to just tell you what doesn’t hurt.

My eyelashes. Yeah. Those are feeling pretty good right now.

I have discovered a fun new reality show. No, wait…don’t go! Did I mention that this reality show is about cake?

The show is Ace of Cakes and it airs on the Food Network. Duff Goldman is an amazingly talented sculptor/painter/baker who employs some seemingly unrelated skills such as graffiti and welding to build his masterpiece cakes. As stressful as it can get for him and his team, they all seem to have a great time working together. If you want to take a peek at some of his work, check out his bakery online. Bring milk.

As I am completely obsessed with wedding planning lately, I originally tuned in to see examples of wedding cakes. But Duff’s cakes are insane. From an airplane-shaped birthday cake for his dad, complete with fireworks to simulate a jet engine to a pair of life-size flamingos for a zoo party, his work is something you just have to see. I have a newfound respect for cake designers, and now I realize why their creations cost so much. (OK, I still think they’re priced a bit high, but now I have a better understanding of the hours of meticulous work required.)

Oh, and if anyone would like to contribute to have Duff make our wedding cake, and deliver it to our venue, I would be your new best friend.