Raced my little heart out

I signed up about a month ago to do the Race for Life here in Lincoln.  It is something that I have wanted to do for a number of years, but have never done because life kept getting in the way of the race.  This year, however, I found myself committed to racing with about 8 other women from my gym (some staff, some members).

I knew from talking to others who have participated that it was going to be a light hearted event (although in support of a very serious cause).  I had seen pictures on the race for life website with women wearing pink wigs, tutus, etc.  I was prepared to dress up for the event by doning a pink tutu although I made the decision to not put it on until I got there and met up with everyone, in case I was the only one looking a bit silly.

How underdressed did I feel when I pulled up to the event and saw the 4,000 women already there dressed like they were going to nightclub on acid.  Wigs, tutus, ballgowns, dayglow fishnets, fairy wings and tiaras.  I slipped my sad little tutu over my shorts and waited for the rest of the gang to arrive.

I had no expectations of the event so when I got there was delighted to find out that that were giving out free body tatoos and pink water to everyone  (a bit like being at Coachella or Burning Man, but with all girls and some running thrown in).

They split everyone into groups of runners, joggers and walkers.  Four of us decided to 'jog' and the rest to walk.  Off we went in the hot sun, 4,000 shades of pink bobbing along the tarmac at RAF Waddington.  About 2 km in I realized:

 "Hey, I didn't eat breakfast this morning....it is 80 degrees with no wind....and I have done a proper race in about 7 years....I feel a bit sick to my stomach and I think my ankle is about to give...."

By the 4th kilometer, not even the bagpipe band and screaming masses were enough to keep me going.  I stopped to walk for a bit.  I felt really shitty and sorry for myself for about 500 meters.  Then I felt really shitty about being such a lame-ass.  I started thinking of my friend Helene, whom I was racing for, as well as all of the other women who have battled and are currently battling cancer.  These women get up every day and live their lives with uncertain futures and the pain and sickness that comes with fighting their own bodies. Those that I know personally have done it with grace and courage and who the hell was I to be whining about a sore ankle and nausea.  I felt shame at even allowing self pity to seep into my brain at that point and instead focused on their strength, which gave me enough strength to run like an olympic sprinter for the final furlong. 

Seriously, remember that scene in The Firm?  The one where Tom Cruise is running like his ass was on fire because the mafia was chasing him?  Well that, my friends, is how I ended my first Race for Life - glorious!!!

(I actually almost elbowed that small child in green to my right to stay ahead of her -

nothing says charity race like showing a 10 year old whose boss!)

As I always do after doing something crazy,exhausting, or physically demeaning - I rewarded myself with a large plate of nachos when I got home.  As I ate them, I thought of my friend Helene and how much she would laugh if she could have seen how funny I looked crossing the finish line in a pink tutu with my hair plastered in sweat and my arms flailing like a monkey. 

I am certainly marking this event in my planner as one to do next year.  I think I may start planning my costume now.

Help Me Decide

Summer Ball time is here and I am trying to decide on a dress.  You may gather from most of the pics that I am loving green this year.  Please leave a comment and tell me which dress you like.  If you don't know me I have a chin length blondish bob and will hopefully be a bit tan as we will be just returning from Italy when I wear it.  Please also note that this ball (although a summer one) is in England.....last year it was so cold and rainy we were calling it the Christmas Ball.  Thanks for your feedback!!!

R.I.P. Selena - Hairdresser Extraodinaire

Okay - so my beloved hairdresser is not really dead - but she may as well be - she has left the scene and left no traces of where or how to find her (why didn't I get her last name)!?!?!

I happened across this gem of a hair artist about 2 years ago just before I opened my gym.  There is a salon in the same complex and I decided that:

1.  I needed to stop coloring my hair myself (it just stopped working right after I had a baby - maybe the hormones???)
2. Making nice with the owner and hairstylists would be good for my buisness.
3. I really needed a good professional cut and re-style after the great post-pregnancy hair loss of 2006 (seriously, there weren't bald patches but it could pull out clumps of hair every morning).

I made an appointment and was booked in with Selena.  Our first date was a bit off-putting at first:

1. She was a bit moody and weird.  She didn't really like to talk and seemed slightly disinterested.
2. She refused to give me an opinion - kept asking me what I wanted and when I waffled she left decisions to me saying "it's your choice." 

I don't know about you but I am clueless about hair.  I need for somebody to tell me what will work.  I do not always agree and usually end up having an opinion if I think it is too extreme, but I found her lack of input frightening.

When I finally described the style I was going for, she cut and colored my hair and IT WAS FABULOUS.  I have never had such a gorgeous cut and color.  Well, there was the one hairdresser in San Diego that I went to once, while back there on vacation from England.  He charged more than some people pay for a mortgage payment and took 5 hours to complete my look (I get shivers thinking about how wonderful my hair looked after he finished).

I stayed with Selena ever since, letting her play with color and texture and style.  Our relationship was still weird - she didn't really like to talk and left me to alot of the decision making, but each and every time I walked out of that salon I felt like I was shooting a hair commercial.

When she left I tried 2 other stylists at the salon and they were - not so good.  Everything I asked for them not to do, they did:

1. Did I ask for twin rat tails streaming down the side of my face?
2. Do I have to pay for the extra strip of color you left on the back of my neck?
3. Oh, please, please straighten my already stick straight and baby fine hair so that it hangs, pasted down my scalp?
4.  Is that a duck tail in the back of my head?
5. Really, mullets are back in style?

They both had an overbearing opinion about everything and my hair left feeling very sad both times.

My 3 inch dark brown roots flecked with platinum (yeah - they are not silver it is blonde) have decided that it is time to move on and find a new stylist.  I have booked an appointment on Thursday with a girl at a very posh salon who is supposed to be 'magic with hair'.  I hope she lives up to her reputation.  If she does the first question that I will ask her is:  "What is your last name?"

OMG - Cheese and Bacon HEAVEN

I type this with heavy fingers.....from the water I am retaining following last night's feast of all things cheesy, bacon-y and filled with nitrates.  My neighbor and her daughter came over for dinner last night and it being Friday I was not in the mood to make an overly fussy dinner.  I wanted to hang and enjoy the company.  I decided to get some pizzas and garlic bread (easy as it gets) and supplement it with a recipe I have been eyeballing for awhile.
The recipe comes from a cookbook that I picked up last year for Maddie myself, called 'Cookbook for Girls - Fabulous Food for Gorgeous Girls'. 

They call this dish 'Cheesy Potato Skins', but I immediately coined it 'ohmygodithinkijustdiedandwenttoheavenican'tbelieveiameatinghalfaslabofbaconandapoundofcheese'

Here is the recipe:

4 Large Baking Potatoes (prick with fork brush with oil and bake for 1 hour 400F)

Take these bad boys out of the oven when crispy and let cool slightly
Cut in half the long way and scoop out the insides (leaving a layer of potato)
Cut in half again the long way and place on a baking tray
Season skins with a bit of paprika (I used chipotle spice)

Fill them with:

A layer of cooked and crumbled bacon

Grated cheese mixed with green onion (I used cheddar, but bonus points for creativity here)

Finish off with a layer of more bacon

Pop them back in the oven until the cheese melts (I did this then gave them 1 minute under the broiler)

Serve with sour cream and chive dip and salsa (or the condiments of your choice)

Feel your arteries harden and your heart simultaneously curse and bless you at the same time.


You are welcome in advance.

'Maddie'ness' - The Art of being 3.5 (oh yes there is more)

Last week I was at rehearsal for our new one act play.  We normally rehearse on Wednesdays and when Matt is gone (or working nights) I take Maddie with me.  She has literally grown up back stage at Whittle Hall, knows most of the directors and actors, and where to find the good biscuits in the girls dressing room back stage.  Everyone there has watched her grow up from a tiny newborn (seriously, I auditioned for a play when she was 5 days old), to a stubborn toddler who would yell for me to come on stage (even if it wasn't my turn), to the cute and funny girl who watches us rehearse while quietly putting in her two cents every now and again.

We had just wrapped up on a couple of run throughs and the director wanted to have a bit of a de-briefing with us.  Usually at this time, Maddie likes to come up on stage and run around a bit.  She was really hamming it up this time, trying out the props, sitting on the furniture and singing a little song.  One of the directors turned to Maddie and said:

"So - are you going to be an actress when you grow up"
Maddie replied "NO!  I am going to be a rescue dog" (duh)

At which point I piped in and said "I don't think that you can actually be a rescue dog - because you are not really a dog."
Maddie: "I know - I'm just pretending"
Me: "Oh- carry on then"
Maddie: "But really when I grow up I am going to be...."

wait for it.......

"...23"

We all pretty much lost it at that point, which really pissed her off.

Maddie:  "That's not funny - I can BE 23 when I get big and then you are not going to be my best friend anymore"

Me: "Okay - you can be 23 when you get big, but can we still be friends?"

Maddie: "I'll think about it."

Little Gems

'Maddie'nes - The Art of Being 3.5

My daughter has been filled with 'Maddie'ness' over the past week (okay so really it was like 3 weeks ago now, but I have been busy and SICK and haven't finished this post).  She often comes up with hysterical musings, but this week 3 weeks ago had been one non-stop rollercoaster ride of gems.  Here are just a few:

St George's day was a few weeks ago and Maddie's school had sent home a note asking that children wear something red to celebrate.  Lucky for me, Matt had bought her an England football jersey that was RED.  I brought it downstairs on Friday morning and Maddie took one look at it and said:

"NO"!
me: "But Maddie - you told me yesterday you wanted your room painted red - that is was your favorite color..."
maddie: Slight pause "I did like it, but I don't now"
me: "Well Maddie, everyone is dressing in red today to celebrate St George's Day, so you need to wear this shirt"
maddie: "NO, I SAID I D-O-N-T W-A-N-T T-O-O-O!!!"
me: "It is getting late now, please put the shirt on or you will hurt St. George's feelinings"
maddie: "What is a St. George"
me: "St. George is a man - he is the patron Saint of England and today you are celebrating him"
maddie: "Well..............he must be really old.........because I don't know him"
me: "Yes he is really old"
maddie: "Is he your friend mommy?"
me: "Yes, and he called this morning and asked if you would please wear a red shirt"
maddie: "You didn't say THAT!!!  Okay, but only because he is your friend."

A couple of days later while she was taking a bath she asked what her body was.  I replied that it was everything from her head to her toes.

maddie: "Even my bones?"
me: "yes your bones and your muscles."
maddie: "muscles?  What are those?"
me: "They make us strong so we can do things."
maddie: "Like play?!?!"
me: "Yes and run and walk and help mommy move heavy furniture and unload the dishwasher..."
maddie: "Where are the muscles?"
me: "Well, we have muscles in our arms and stomach and legs."
maddie: "And our BUMS?" (giggle)
me: "Acutally yes - it is called our gluteous maximus."
maddie: (laughing hysterically now...) "glue masticuffs?  That's a silly name."
me: "Yes it is."
maddie: "Big people have big bums like you and little people have little bums like me."
me: "This is true."
maddie: "And my brains are in my body."
me: "yes they are inside your skull."
maddie: "What are brains?"
me: "They help you think of things."
maddie: "Like toys?"
me: "Pretty much."
maddie: "What's a skull?"
me: "The bones around your brain to keep it safe?"
maddie: "Safe from monsters so it can think of toys?"
me: "You got it!"

At this point Maddie made a really funny face and I asked her why she was making it.

maddie: "My brain is trying to play with my skull, but the skull won't share."
me: "Oh - I hate it when that happens - not nice."
maddie: "No it is NOT - that is why my brain is very grumpy right now!"

Welcome to my Monday (3 weeks ago)!