Chicken Run

Today I entered the 2nd Annual Chicken 5k Fun Run and Walk. 

A few of us from the gym had talked about doing it and I decided to go for it because:

1.  I had done the Santa Run earlier in the year and had a ball. 
2.  I personally had nothing better to do.
3.  I love an opportunity to dress in theme.
4.  Lucy  really needed to be taken out for a serious walk.



In the spirit of the event I was prepared to:

1.  Dress up like a chicken.
2.  Walk with my dog and my child (in a stroller) whilst having a good conversation with my friends.
3.  Make a fool of myself.
4.  Have a good time with some fun men and women.
5.  Not win.   We were placed at the back of the race with all the other people with animals and kids who were walking for fun so as not to get in the way of the 'serious' runners.  Seriously?  Who can be serious about running in a chicken suit......I'm just saying...
6. Be cold - the high was supposed to be 48 degrees with a strong wind and chance of rain.

I was not prepared to:

1. Run most of the 5k trailing behind my dog whilst pushing my 35 pound kid in her stroller.
2. Feel disappointed, when after gaining quite a bit of ground during a 10 minute sprint I had to stop while my dog pooped for England.  I watched, dejected and angry, at all the runners I had passed, pass me by with smiles on their faces (you know who you are).
3. Have my left arm ache so badly (arms aren't something that are normally sore after a race unless you have a large dog dragging you around a course or are involved in some sort of crazy wheelbarrel relay) .
4. Watch my dog get a medal for completing the 5k (although she really deserved one).
5. Sweat so badly in my fur chicken suit and head-dress.  I am almost always cold when running in England (except in the height of summer).  I was ready to strip nude by the 2nd mile which would have turned more heads than the girl wearing fishnets and a playboy bunny leotard (???)

Okay - we did not come in first, or second, or even 50th, but I do believe we finished at at least the 50th percentile, which isn't too shabby considering I was hampered down by a fur beast and kid.  All in all not a bad day - next year I think I will let the dog off the lead and let her go for it - really we were holding her back.   ;)

So that completes one whole item of my 25 Things List.  If I can stay awake until Maddie goes to bed and have the strength to catapult myself into the bathtub, I might just complete another item as well - my all inclusive spa night.  I will let you know tomorrow if it happens!

Kittyn

25 Things

All around blogger-land people seem to have lists of things to accomplish before a milestone event (their 30th birthday for instance).  To amuse myself while my husband is gone and make the time go by more quickly, I have compiled a list of 25 things to do before he gets back (end of May).  Here they are in no particular order of importance:

1. Teach Maddie to use the toilet at night
2. Repot my Aloe Vera Plant and the offshoots (to give to friends)
3. Have a spa evening at home complete with treatments, candles and music
4. Have my eyebrows 'threaded'
5. Take the dog to the DIY dog wash to hose her down
6. Take the dog to Whisby Lake to mucky her up
7.Do the Chicken Run in full costume
8. Swap Maddie over into the larger room
9.Plant some flower seeds in the front garden
10.Redecorate the gym
11.Lose 10 pounds
12.Make a dish I have never tried before
13.Go on a mini road trip for the day to a random place on the map (I might let Maddie decide)
14.Get the best icecream ever from that place in Woodhall Spa
15.Hook up our old computer to the TV downstairs ala Sully so I can cruise the net on the big screen
16.Find the perfect dress for Summer Ball
17.Stay in my PJs all day with Maddie and watch movies
18.Stay at the playground for as long as Maddie wants even if I'm getting cold and bored
19.Do some trampolining with Maddie
20.Get the Living Room Carpet professionally cleaned
21.Fly a kite in the park
22.Take my daughter out for dinner - in a real restaurant
23.Fix the mole hill destruction in the garden  fix the new mole hil destruction in the garden
23.Paint our Wooden Garden Furniture
24. Complete at least one piece of beaded jewelry
25. Finish my super secret project (this does not include world domination, solving the theory of everything, keeping the house clean for a whole day or buying the house I really want behind Matt's back).

Village Dining (a 3 part story) The last one folks...

It has taken me ages to write the last part of the saga that was our Valentines dinner in the village.  Partly because it contains odd bits of conversation that might not make sense to the random reader and partly because I have been too busy downloading apps on my iphone and doing taxes.  I have realized, however, that if I don't get it out I might never write another blog again.  So here goes, the remainder of our evening.

If you recall, during our dinner we:

1. Did NOT get eaten by zombies.
2. Did feel strangely uncomfortable by the fact that we were the only people there for the better part of 30 minutes.
3. Thought the olive plate was our 'starter sampler for two'
4. Found out we were wrong

Dinner was finally served after the montrosorous (it's a word ask any of us) appetizer and while we were eating our entrees, Matt and I embarked upon the type of conversation that we normally have when in public, social situations - random and bizarre.

It began when I picked up my silverware to cut into the sausage stuffed chicken I had ordered.  As you do, I picked up my utensils, cut the meat, set the knife down, switched my fork to my other hand and took a bite.  After the third run through of this, Matt commented that he had only ever seen American's eat that way - except for a guy he once knew.  The guy, he explained was teased for eating this way, until he bragged that he lived in the States for awhile (apparently that made it okay).

Brits keep their knife and fork at hand, using the knife as a kind of pushing vessel to ram food onto the fork.  I have actually found myself eating this way more often than not over the years and Matt wondered why the change.   I said that I really enjoyed being able to wield a knife around while dining (very liberating).  I have found that gesticulating with a knife in your hand will ensure your table mates are listening to your story - every time.  It is also particularly useful when sitting at a large table and you need to point to an item out of reach.

"Why wouldn't you just ask for the item?"
"Most likely my mouth would be crammed full of food - pointing with a knife is the less rude option."
"That's true."
"You're agreeing with me that it is the less rude option?"
"No that your mouth would be full of food."

The utensil story segued into a conversation about making vile things sound edible at fine dining establishments.  The item in question that evening was black pudding. There was a delicious menu item that I had almost chosen but it was accompanied by the stuff.  Black pudding (in my opinion) is nasty. It is a coagulated blood sausage-type thing - don't ask me what actually goes into it - I don't care to know.  We decided that the French were masters at disguising the nasties and came up with an apt name - Pud Noir. Doesn't sound so bad does it?  We were just about to recommend a menu change to the waiter in between fits of giggles when I looked at the time - it was about 8:30 and we told our neighbor we would be back by 9 at the latest.

By now the restaurant was busy and we had a hard time getting our waiters attention (Matt dared me to snap my fingers and make a writing gesture on my hand to signify we wanted to get the check, but I didn't fall for that one again).  The waiter finally arrived and asked us to make a dessert selection - when we politely asked if we could have it to go I thought he was going to choke on his tongue.  Was everything not okay, did we hate it and the restaurant, were we on to the whole zombie conspiracy?  We explained that everything was lovely, but we had to get home.  He agreed to box up some Bailey's Cheesecake and dropped off the bill.

As Matt was signing the bill I asked him why he didn't sign the credit card slip in cursive writing.  I kid you not folks - he looked at me point blank with this innocent expression and said:

"What, like with swear words?  Is that like explative writing?"
"No - you know cursive writing - loopy"
"I don't know what you mean and I am not loopy"
"You know you call it..." (I was struggling to find the right words) "conjoined writing"
"What like twins?"
"Huh?"
"Do you mean joined up writing?"
"I guess so - joined up sounds like a 5 year old coined the term though"
"What do you think the French would call it?"
"I am not sure, but they could probably make it sound good"

On that note - we left with our boxed up cheesecake in hand (with the entire restaurant watching us leave) and headed home after our first dinner in the village.

Village Dining (a 3 part story) Part Deux

At the end of Part 1 - Matt and I had just been seated in a cozy, quaint and very empty restaurant in our village on Valentines Day.  Being the only people there, we were a bit nervous about the diner to staff ratio going on and briefly thought the whole thing was a scam.

After we were sat, our waiter (and also one of the owners as we later found out), explained how the evening was going to proceed.  The Valentines menu was a 4 course dinner including:

A set starter platter for two

A choice of entrees

A choice of desserts

Coffee, chocolates and mints

We were encouraged to peruse the menu for our entree and told again that the platter for two had no choice - it came as is.  He took our drink order and walked away.  He came back about 2 minutes later with our drinks and asked us if we had any questions, were we ready to order, etc?  The entrees sounded spectacular and we did not want to hurry our choice (plus I was debating on the best option/combo so that I could get Matt to 'share').  We were again reminded to "take our time, table's ours for the evening."  A few more minutes rolled by and he came out holding what amounted to a large side plate on which sat:

A small bowl with 6 olives

2 celery pieces about the size of a thumb filled with something

2 small filo dough parcels filled with something else

Still not ready to order, we sent him away.  The ensuing conversation went something like this:

Matt:  'do you know what you want?'
Me: 'I thought I did, but now I'm not sure.'
Matt: 'Why?'
Me: 'If this is the size our our sampler starter for two, then I might go with a larger entree.'
Matt: 'Hmm?  What?  Do you think this is the starter platter?'
Me:  'Well, I suppose it could be an amuse bouche, but we are in Bardney - my money is on the platter'
Matt: 'They can't seriously charge that kind of money and expect to pass this as a platter'
Me:  'To quote the great Eddie Izzard - it is Britain - scale it down'
Matt:  'That is a bit beyond scaling it down - that would be taking the piss.'

The waiter arrived again to take our order (on which we had finally decided) and started to remove our half eaten "platter".   I almost grabbed his arm to force the plate back on to the table whilst screeching 'leave it!'  There were 2 olives left in the bowl and was going to be damned if he was going to take them away.  In my defense, I must mention that I was STARVING and had half a gin and tonic fueling the situation.  He relinquished the plate and walked away.  I decided that I was going to make those 2 olives last until our dinner came.  I made it a challenge - took teeny, tiny bites.  Every couple of minutes or so our waiter walked by to see if the plate was empty so he could remove it.  It became almost unbearable and I started to wonder if we weren't going to get served until the last olive was gone.  No sooner had I popped it into my mouth in a frenzy, than the waiter came around the corner holding what looked like a banquet serving tray.

Now - I failed to mention that at this time the restaurant had slowly started filling up.  When I saw the tray I assumed that it was for the large table of the owner's friends/family that had arrived.

Me:  'Obviously pays to know someone.'
Matt: 'I think that it is ours.'
Me 'Holy shit, I think you're right - obviously it pays to be cute'

At this point the waiter is trying to wedge this tray full of food onto our petit table for two.  I can't remember everything on it but here goes:

Langustinos

Chilled Meditaranian Vegetables

Deviled Eggs

Fig and Passionfruit Salad

Smoked Herring

Cold Salmon

Canapes

At this point I was wishing I had gone with my first entree choice of salmon instead of upgrading to a hefty sounding portion of chicken stuffed with sausage.  Matt and I sat staring in amazement at the amount of food.

Me: 'This is ridiculous'
Matt: 'Who eats this much'
Me: 'Do you think they heard me complain about the olive plate'
Matt: 'Maybe - you are easily heard'
Me: 'Why would anyone eat this much before dinner'
Matt: 'I'm not eating anything with eyes - you can have the langustinos'
Me:  'I don't have to shared the eyed creatures?!?!?  This is the best Valentines Day ever!'

That concludes part 2 (of our 3-part story).  In my final segment I will regale you with fascinating conversations about cursive writing and cutlery use and conclude my tale with how things went when we asked to take our dessert 'to go'.

I would  also like to leave you tonight with a question:  Have you ever  been to a restaurant where you have been either overwhelmed or underwhelmed by the quantity of food (or confusingly both at the same time like I was on V-Day)?

Village Dining (a 3 part story) Part One

A couple of weekends ago, my husband and I went out to eat in the village.  There is actually a restaurant (which I kept forgetting about) and we decided to give it a try on Valentines Day.  I thought I should call first (since it was kind of a last minute thing) to see if they even had a table (I was warned that they were small).  I took the liberty of calling and this is what I got:

ring, ring, ring

"Yes?"
"Hi, I was wondering if you had any space available for this evening?"
Pause "for a room?"
"Uhm, no.....are you a restaurant?"
Longer pause (like he was thinking about it) "yes."
"Do you have any tables available?"
"Hold the line, I'll check"
Hand over mouthpiece and screams "do we have space?"
Hand off mouthpiece "yes."
"Great, I'd love to book a table"
"Okay - we'll see you tonight - goodbye"
"Wait, do you need to know what time we are coming or is it a set seating"
"What time are you coming?"
"Uhm, 7:30?"
"Hold the line, I'll check"
Hand over mouthpiece "she wants to come at 7:30...."
Uncomfortably long silence  "7:30 is fine - see you then."
"Wait, do you want my name?"
"Go on then."
"Davies."
"Right then, 7:30 tonight."

Although unsure if we had an actual reservation, Matt and I were giddy with anticipation - we rarely go anywhere by ourselves and on this night our neighbor was kindly watching Maddie for us. We both got semi-tarted up and made the 10 minute walk to the place.  We entered this old building (historic old, not falling-down old) and were presented with a very cozy and quaint candle lit restaurant.  There was space for about 6 or 7 tables.  As we made our way in we were greeted by a waiter who led us to our seats and explained that the table was ours for the night so "no rush".  It was apparent at this time that we were the only ones there - with the entire staff watching our entrance with anticipation!  Suddenly it was AWKWARD!  Perhaps we were the first booking of the night (gulp) perhaps the only booking all night? Perhaps they were all cannibal zombies and we were on the menu this evening?

Obviously we were not eaten, because I'm blogging this (or am I)?  The rest of the story will have to wait.   Stay tuned for Part Two.

And THAT, folks, is what we in the business call a "cliffhanger'...

Car Trips - A Love Hate Story

I have just gotten back from a car trip - a long car trip (more on it in a minute) - and it got me thinking about some of the best and worst car trips I have ever had.  Here they are (in no particular order of bestness or badness) within respective categories:

Best Car Trips

1. Driving from Wisconsin to Florida for Spring break my sophomore year of college with my best friend (and her awesome mom) on a whim.  We decided about 2 days in advance to do it - Kim's mom was going down there and suggested we follow her down.  She agreed to pay for our hotel and food because she thought the company would be fun and was just plain cool.  We left at 3 am and made it to Georgia before calling it a night.  So excited we were by the call of the road, that we all decided that come hell or high water, we were going to get to the beach by morning.  We got back up at 3 am again and finished the drive down to Panama City in time for pancakes on the beach.  The trip could have been sponsored by Wilson Phillips and Budweiser because that is all we listened to and drank the entire time (obviously we were not drinking Bud in the car, just to clarify).

2. Driving from Ke'e beach to Polihal'e State beach in Kauai with anybody.  There is basically one main road that follows the coast around the island and it is beautiful!  We normally (by we I mean whoever is with me) stop off at our favorite places along the way and if we see a beach that looks good - we stop!  This drive is best in a convertible, but I have found it almost as enjoyable in a jeep or sedan.

3. The trip from Peterborough to Belfast, which was my first solo journey in the UK.  I had been in the country for about 5 months and had to make my way back to Northern Ireland after dropping Matt off at a course that he was on for a week.  I hit the road with a map, tickets for the midnight ferry and a promise that I would call Matt repeatedly.  I dropped Matt off at 7 am and the first call I made to him was at 7 that night - from our home.  I had made it up to the ferry so early that I caught the one leaving at 4.  I was so proud of myself for navigating not just the motorways of Britain, but the country roads of  Scotland all by my lonesome.  After spending half a year completely dependent on someone for getting me by, it was a nice change to be in control again.

The jury is still out on:

The drive I made with my brother when I moved from Wisconsin to San Diego. It was cramped (bad), we bickered alot (normal), he ended up ditching me in Vegas (bad) and we didn't speak for almost 2 years (the worst). On the other hand, while we were fighting over what music to listen to, my brother and I bonded as adults in a way I don't think you can if you are not trapped in a car with another family member for over 30 hours. (good). I got to see many parts of America that I had only dreamed about (good). I had this sense of independence and freedom that I had never felt before and just KNEW that my life was about to change (the best).

Worst Car Trips:

1. The trip from Florida to Wisconsin with my parents and brother coming back from a Disney Vacation gone awry.  The trip back was awful - it was the coldest winter on record and freak ice and snow storms crippled most of the South.  My father scratched his cornea about 6 hours into the trip and my mother had to do the driving herself - 5 miles per hour through Georgia, Kentucky and Tennessee.  At one point I believe our car broke down and we had to get it fixed which took ages.  Oh - and did I mention that I had been throwing up for 4 days and showed no signs of stopping on the journey home?  NICE!  My mother still cannot watch the movie 'Vacation' without gagging a little bit and muttering "never again".

2. The car trip from San Diego to Kansas with an old boyfriend who had a mustang convertible.  Why do you ask would this be a bad trip?  Ummmmm - it was 115 degrees and he had no air conditioning!  To cool off we would roll up all of the windows in the car until we were sweating and about to pass out from heat exhaustion, then we would roll down the windows just to feel the hot air blow the sweat away. I lost about 10 pounds of water weight which I guess was kind of good (I like to look for a silver lining.) Outweighing my water deprived weight loss, however, we were going there to pick up his daughter who had been staying with his parents for a few weeks.  On the ride home she asked if she could call me mom.  I was 25, had heat poisoning, hadn't peed for a week and decided that I was not ready for such a romance.  We broke up not long after we got back.

3. The trip across Lincoln to get from my gym to the Staples store (and Starbucks if I'm being honest).  It is 3 miles and takes about 45 minutes.  They say there is a fine line between love and hate, but on this one friends I can tell you that I don't ever cross the line - it is a hate, hate, hate thing!

4. The drive I made yesterday with my neighbor, her two kids and Maddie, from Bardney to North Yorkshire.  In. A. Blizzard.  In fairness to the kiddies - they were pretty awesome, considering that we created a 10 hour journey out of what should have been about 5 1/2.  I don't know which was the worst:

• Getting stuck off the main road and spending an hour fish-tailing through the fog on a road the size of a hair, hoping we weren't going to die
• Trying to reverse my car up a steep gradient to avoid getting stuck at the bottom with the other 2 stuck cars and blowing out my transmission.   
• It could have been the part where poor Lucy threw up pink milk in the back seat while the other 2 kids were groaning "eeewwwww what's that smell?"
• But then it also could have been the part where we finally had a game plan to get out of where we were stuck, which involved several terrifying freefall-type slides down 25% gradient hills only to realize we had to get back up the other side and repeat the process 3 times.
• It also might have been the jerk on the road who decided that - even though the road conditions were hazardous - he would talk on his cell phone and tail me for about 30 minutes. 

(this is not actually my car, but the picture pretty much represents what we were dealing with minus the steep hill)

Yesterdays journey reminded of a couple of things:

1. I love to drive
2. I am pretty awesome in a lot of situations and pretty crappy in others
3. It is not just the journey but who you are with
4. Don't EVER reverse your car in packed snow up a steep hill
5. Long trips (good or bad) have the potential to be messy - bring lots of baby wipes and a towel!

Trimming the Fat (a closet makeover)

I am pretty sure that 90 percent of the population has seen the TV show Friends.  That is probably an overstatement, but I am going with it anyways - roll with me folks!  There is an episode that is particularly endearing because, well, it is all about me.  I am talking about the one with Monica's secret closet.

If you have never seen Friends then here is a quick synopsis.  Monica is a clean freak.  Her friends have put up with it for years.  One day her husband notices a closet in their apartment that he had never seen.  It is locked.  When he finally picks it open he is bowled over with decades worth of stuff that has been shoved in there - untidily.  This closet is her answer to a junk drawer and this is where my story begins.

I too am a bit on the tidy side, although not quite as mental as my Friends friend Monica.  I too have that closet.  Here is where my story gets sad.  My closet is not some random, spare nook tucked away at the back of the house.  The closet in question is MY closet - and I can barely open it without being knocked on the head from something falling off the top shelf.  Here is a quick list of some of the stuff in there:

1. Clothes (summer, winter, dressy, too small, too big, too old and OMG why?)
2. Games
3. Wrapping Paper (about 20 rolls)
4. Ceremonial Swords
5. Roller Blades
6. Box full of stuff that I have visions of putting in a scrap book
7. An empty scrap book
8. 5 large carrier bags filled with different holiday decorations
9. Suitcases
10. Some of Maddie's old baby toys
11. A box full of Matt's old toys (nothing sick, but please don't ask)
12. An electric guitar amp
13. Old School Papers
14. Hangers that breed at a rate that would make rabbits ashamed

This is not a complete list - I think you get the mental picture.  If not, here is a real one (don't look if you suffer from low or high blood pressure or are on any medications for anxiety, OCD or acne).  Please appreciate that this photo does not convey the depth or bottom half of my closet.

Now on one hand I work in a gym, so my daily garb doesn't include anything that needs to be dry cleaned or even hung for that matter.  Because of this, I have tended to use my closet as a dumping ground for anything I don't want showing when company comes over to stay.  The guest bedroom is actually like crap limbo in our house and my closet, its final resting place.

I decided that today would be a great day to do 'something' about this eyesore.  For starters I have run out of drawer space to put anything that isn't yoga pants, for another I really need to lose some post holiday weight and thought that an afternoon reconnecting with beautiful garments that don't fit me might be just the impetus needed.

I decided that the best way to start was to take everything out of the closet and dump it back into crap limbo.  This was the result.

Then I started separating clothes into categories:

1. Things that were in season now, things that would be in season soon and things that can never be worn in England.
2. Things that needed to be mended and things that would be heinous even if they were fixed
3. Things that I will probably never fit into again thanks to having a kid and things that I could probably get into if I just followed my own advice and worked out more.
4. Things that are precious to me and things I don't remember buying
5. Hangers

Once the categories were decided I only put back the clothes that were in season and fit me.  After hanging up those 2 pieces I decided I had room for a bit more so I added some spring pieces and some formal wear as well.  The result:

I still need to sort out what to do with the rest of the space up top.  Oh yeah - and figure out what to do with all of the limbo crap - because it can not stay in our guest room.  I think this will be a work in progress.  Tomorrow the party supplies will find a new home - that is my goal and I'm sticking to it!

Do you have a secret Monica drawer, closet, room?  Send me a picture so I can feel better about myself!