Misadventures in 2009

I am too uncool to come up with my own way to reflect on 2009, so I'm going to copy my good friend Mark Remy at Runner's World (Oops, did I say good friend? He doesn't know me or my work, but I know his well!)

2009 was a big fat year of change for me and my family. And you can read all about it in the following recap, organized by month. Enjoy!

January
I kicked off the new year with two resolutions -- to run two marathons and journal once a week. Did I achieve them? Neither one. But I did run at least one full marathon in 2009. Although I didn't journal weekly, I took a writing class. I made apple crisp for the first time. My car, which I have since sold, continued to give me a financial headache in 2009 after an expensive 2008. And this recap wouldn't be complete without a mention of the creatures of the night.

February
I was a lame blogger and attempted to try a new recipe -- or at least write about one -- every Monday. I think I can count on one hand how many times I accomplished this.

March
Despite the cold and snow, training for the Fargo Marathon was in full swing. Taking a break from winter, Ben and I spent a week in Honduras. My car was still good company for bad luck. And I cooked but I warn you ahead of time that I did a shoddy job writing about it.

April
I was an awful blogger, so this month isn't worth recapping. I did cool things, though, like watch Twilight for the first time. And I ran a 20-mile race in St. Cloud in preparation for the Fargo Marathon. After the race, I drove to Rochester for a bachelorette party and discovered that I would make the most uncoordinated stripper. If only I had written about those things...

May
Again, why the heck didn't I blog? Oh yeah, I was busy running the Fargo Marathon in personal record time and working. Sorry.

June
I went public with the news that I would be moving to Evanston so Ben could attend business school at Northwestern University. I loved my job, my city, my friends and my family and didn't want to leave all behind. The only day I ever dreaded going into work was the day I had to tell my editor that I was moving.

July
My darling sister married her high school sweetheart on July 11. I enjoyed some small-town running while spending time with my mom after I left my job and before I went to Italy to finally practice my much-forgotten Italian.

August
We abandoned our Minneapolis digs, and we moved to Evanston.

September
I complained about or mentioned being unemployed here, here and here. I embraced being frugal and writing about it. Having a sick dog really really sucked. And of course, I did a little cooking. Yay for sweet corn!

October
I ran a lot and even got pooped on during one outing. It did not bring me good luck, at least in terms of employment. Indie got to drink hydrogen peroxide for the first and, I hope, last time. I made for the first time what has become my signature dessert. And I experimented...

November
If you are ever interested in a middle-distance race, you should do the Hot Chocolate 15k. I did, and I loved it. I made the most amazing pork chops (If you haven't tried this recipe, I urge you to do so in 2010. Make it a resolution!). I turned 26!!! and failed to write about it with any depth.

December
The bulk of my posts were about baking, and my waist shows it. I have since stocked my fridge with the green stuff. My creative non-fiction writing class ended. And despite those additional inches of fat around my waist, I was still a beef magnet.

My dear friends and family, Happy New Year! May 2010 be a good one...for all of us.

You asked, and I answered.

One of my three loyal readers threatened cardiac arrest if for one more day the first thing she sees on this blog is a photo of chili.

I love my reader and wouldn't want her to land in the ER, so my solution is a half-ass post until I can write something more substantial tomorrow.

Maybe I'll write about the holidays. Or the resolutions I didn't accomplish in 2009. Resolutions in 2010 I pledge to accomplish but probably won't. Or maybe I'll cough up a post about the botched caramels I made before heading to Minnesota for Christmas.

Until then, I leave you with a photo of all the snow my mom got at her home in southwestern Minnesota during a whopper of a holiday storm.

Easy Chili

Ben has been in Colorado all week and is due to return tomorrow night. My "cooking" has been limited to English muffins, bowls of cereal, oatmeal and frozen meals.

I would probably still be eating buttered noodles or cereal every night for dinner if I was living by myself. With the exception of baking, I am lazy in the kitchen. Marrying Ben has made me a little less so.

After a week of eating food that didn't excite my palate, I decided last night to really cook. Instead of learning a new recipe, I whipped up a batch of chili, which requires no recipe. It's experimentation at its easiest.

Here's a rough sketch of what I made:

Easy Chili
Ingredients
--2 28 oz. cans of diced tomatoes
--1 15 oz. can of tomato sauce
--1 30 oz. can of kidney beans*
--1 onion, chopped
--1 green pepper, chopped
--1 jalapeno pepper, chopped **
--1 pound of hamburger
--Cumin, a few teaspoons***
--Chili powder, a few teaspoons***
--Cayenne red pepper, 1-2 teaspoons***
--Garlic salt, to taste***

Instructions:
Brown the hamburger with the vegetables. Drain. Add hamburger and vegetable mix to pot of remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil. Simmer for at least an hour.

*I used to loathe beans. But when I made my mother-in-law's chili several weeks ago, I didn't mind them. I say throw them in the chili. You can always pick them out.

**I got a jalapeno pepper from the grocery store but couldn't use it because the interior was brown. Gross. Nex time, I'll get it from a grocery store with better produce.

***I didn't measure.

The personal fitness assessment, part II.

I'm not very good at kicking my own ass.

Today, I returned to the gym for the first time since the personal assessment. I gave myself a day off on Wednesday because I felt like a 90-year-old and thought my body needed -- and deserved -- a break. I ventured out yesterday morning for a short run, even though my quads were still tight.

I set up my personal circuit at the gym without the guidance of the personal trainer. I did squats, push-ups and crunches. I exercised my triceps, but skipped out on the biceps. Oops. I warmed up prior to conditioning, on top of the three miles I ran on the treadmill. I'm confident I followed the resistance training just as I was taught on Tuesday, with the exception that I didn't push myself so hard that I wanted to throw up. I settled for some sweating.

Although I'm no match for my trainer, and I didn't kick my own ass, I did come home with a sore hip. It has ached all afternoon.

My left hip first started hurting around Thanksgiving. The cause, I think, was not exercising but being behind the wheel for hours. We drove to Lincoln, Neb., for Thanksgiving, and I spent a majority of the time behind the wheel on our 8-hour drive to and from Nebraska. I think my lax posture did me in, finally.

The pain was hibernating. Until today. Seriously, as I type this while sitting on my couch, my hip is doing more than aching. It's throbbing.

Reflections on running in 2009.

I reached 1,000 miles run in 2009 during my 6:30 a.m. outing with my good pal Kara today.

The time I spent on the road during this past year adds up to more than six days of running. I think this speaks to the dedication to and love I have for it.

Yet I don't feel a huge sense of accomplishment. Maybe I should have stepped up my game and tried for 1,500 miles in 2009. This year, I repeated 2008's 1,000-mile achievement.

I must remind myself of other running accomplishments from this year.
--I PR'd (personal record) at the Fargo Marathon, finishing in 4 hours, 12 minutes -- an improvement over my 4 hour, 20 minute finish at the Twin Cities Marathon in October 2008. Remember, kiddos, that was the year runners were soaked for half Twin Cities Marathon. I got so cold from the pouring rain that I needed someone to tie my shoes, because my fingers wouldn't work.
--I ran my first ever 15k, and I finished with my running buddy Naomi and Ben. I was incredibly happy with average 9:06-minute mile pace I kept up throughout the race. It gives me hope that I can knock a few minutes off my half-marathon time.

2010 will bring more races. I have already signed up for the North Shore Half Marathon, which falls on June 13. Barring any injury (knock on wood, I haven't had a serious injury that kept me from running for more than four days), I plan to the run the Bank of America Chicago Marathon. And I look forward to running it with some of the buddies I've made in Evanston. To my running friends and relatives back in Minnesota, you are welcome to visit and run these races or cheer me on. Cheerleaders are good:)

I hope the new year will also bring more quality miles, and that I will place more value on the quality of my runs than the number of miles I record in my Runner's World log. What matters is that I keep on running. Because I can.

The personal fitness assessment.

I have fainted only once in my 26 years. I was on the job, interviewing a couple who owned an outfitter store in Winona, Minn.

I abruptly ended the interview and was on my way out of the store to cool off when my world went dark. I tumbled, taking down the store displays with me. Except for scraped hands and knees and bruised pride, I was OK. I drank some water, flattened my skirt, walked out of the store and returned to work for a day just like any other.

Today, I thought I might faint for the second time in my life. Boys and girls, this was not in my head.* I thought, one more lift or squat or push-up, and I might keel over. Right here. In this stretching room. How embarrassing. I would be that girl.

And I've run marathons. What kind of distance runner faints while lifting a 10-pound weight?

I was in the middle of my personal fitness assessment with a trainer, who I thought would weigh me and check my body fat, go over my goals, show me around the gym and send me on my merry way. But my appointment with the trainer turned out to be a real kick-in-the-ass workout. OK, so the trainer didn't literally kick me in the ass, but he was close. During a wall push-up, he pushed against my shoulders. And again during a squat.

In the stretching room -- thank God we didn't have to venture into Man's Land, as my cousin Abby calls it -- the trainer set up a circuit station with five and 10-pounds weights, a platform and a BOSU trainer (half ball). We moved from one exercise to another with little or no break. I squatted using multiple techniques. I did push-ups. Two kinds. I never do push-ups. I did crunches.

I sweat more than I've probably ever sweat running. The sweat glistened. It glistened! Even though I had told my trainer that I wanted to look more toned, I thought to myself while lifting that I looked pretty darn good, hot, maybe, in the only way a sweaty girl can look hot while exercising.

As much as I loved hearing, "Brady, that's perfect," or "Brady, push hard," or "Brady, just one more for good luck," I could only do so much. With each lift, I grew more tired and weaker. I left the stretching room to get water twice, and I had to take a few breaks, even though the trainer wanted me to keep my heart rate up and keep going. I didn't want to be a wimp. Really, I didn't. But I told him I felt faint and sick to my stomach. So in the middle of crunches, during a self-imposed pause, the trainer deemed our session over.

I lasted less than 20 minutes. I may be a runner, but I've never experienced true conditioning in my life.

My fitness assessment ended with a sales pitch, as I knew it would. My trainer, who was accompanied by the general training manager, because I was the trainer's first client (lucky me), recommended I sign up for a year's worth of training sessions, which cost $40 each, and participate in three sessions a week. That adds up to thousands of dollars a year.

I told them that I could not, in good conscience, sign up for training sessions since neither I nor my husband have jobs. Their faces fell. But I promised them I wouldn't close the door on training and would consider it when I'm employed. I meant it. As much as I wanted to throw up on my trainer today, I would love for him to kick my butt again.** But maybe only once a week. Because, who are we kidding, thousands of dollars a year spent on someone who watches me lift weights? I'm not a Real Housewife of Orange County. I'm a Real Housewife of a Kellogg student, and resources (err...income) are limited these days.

After leaving the gym, I treated myself to a latte and called it a day. Tomorrow I will run, but I will give my arms and abs and butt a rest.

*The sole female trainer, Sarah, at the gym followed me inside the women's locker room and asked me what I had eaten for breakfast. She was in the stretching room during part of my assessment. I knew I would run before meeting with the trainer, so I only ate a banana with a little peanut butter. My stomach can't handle much before short runs. And even before a marathon, I stick to one slice of toast with peanut butter and a banana. Sarah told me that I should eat something hearty like oatmeal before intense conditioning and that I could run afterward. That way, I would burn more calories and put more distance between a hearty breakfast and my run. She added that the newbie trainer should have asked me what I had eaten for breakfast and that you can't work through feeling faint. I am thankful for Sarah's advice. Until she approached me, I really thought I was being a wimp during the assessment, that I wasn't sick at all and that it was all in my head.

**My trainer said that if I see him at the gym and he looks bored that I can ask him to help me out with conditioning. I wanted to ask, "And how much does that cost?" Rather, I just smiled and left.

Beef magnet.

I love to run, as you've probably deduced from reading this blog. I run outdoors throughout the year as long as the wind chill doesn't dip below zero. In the winter, though, I'm in the gym more than I'm outside.

I like the gym. Being around people who care about fitness motivates me. And I always feel a sense of pride stepping out of the gym. It's like, "Look at me. I work out. I am cool. Praise me."

Put me on the treadmill, and I'm comfortable. I belong there because I'm a runner -- for only three miles, maybe four if I'm feeling good, because I think the treadmill is the belt of hell. It's a necessity in the winter and so I withstand those three or four miles knowing I could run farther and longer outside but it's dark and cold and unsafe so the treadmill will just have to do.

Lead me to a weight room, and I am intimidated. I look around to make sure know one is watching me. Usually if there are too many men around, I don't even bother. When I'm brave, I work my biceps and triceps as quickly as possible and then go to my safe place -- a mat for crunches or to the locker room.

I have been brave three times in the last week. I've worked my Olive Oyl arms and haven't given a flip about the bodybuilders grunting next to me. They apparently care about me. I've been approached three times in the last week by two beefy male strangers and one not-so-beefy stranger.

Beefy man #1 teased me about wearing a tank and showing off my arms while doing bicep curls with 10-pound weights. I'm typically slow with comebacks and had no response. My sister told me I should have asked him if he needed a spotter. Next time, sister. Next time.

Beefy man #2 told me that I should try lifting heavier weights. He told me to try the 15-pounders and to take it slowly. So I tried the 15-pounders -- a first for me -- and quite enjoyed the slow burn. I thanked that man.

Today, not-so-beefy stranger #3 approached me mid-lift. He asked me what I was doing. What I wanted to say: "What does it look like macho man?" What I actually said: "Uh, I don't know." He asked me how I learned to lift and what my routine included. I told him that I didn't do much. In my defense, I added that I was a runner and not just any kind of runner, but a marathoner. I also told him that I didn't know my way around the gym yet because I hadn't been treated to my complimentary fitness assessment.

Well, today was my lucky day. Turns out not-so-beefy stranger #3 is a personal trainer employed by the gym. He recently started working there, and he is happy to give me a fitness assessment. So tomorrow at 11 a.m., I will meet with the newbie personal trainer to go over my goals and learn a few "routines."

This, I hope, will put an end to the unsolicited "help" from the many men at the gym.

Convenient cooking.

Last week, I made what I would call convenience-style pulled pork. I give it the "convenience" title because all of the ingredients, with the exception of the pork, can be picked up at the market on the corner, or a nice gas station.

This is a good recipe to file if:
--You have kids.
--The culinary arts challenge you.
--You like meat. And lots of it.
--You are darn busy, and cooking isn't high on your priority list.

Convenience-style Pulled Pork

Ingredients:
--2 lbs pork tenderloin
--1 12 oz. can or bottle of root beer
--1 18 oz. bottle of barbecue sauce

1. Place pork in a slow cooker; pour root beer over meat. Cover and cook on low until pork shreds easily, between 6 and 8 hours. Drain. Add barbecue sauce. Mix well. Serve on bun with desired fixings.

Source: allrecipes.com

For the original recipe, click here.

Baby, it's cold outside. So let's bake.

This is the first year I've done serious holiday baking, and I'm seeing the effect on the scale in rising numbers. I run four to six days a week, and it's not helping.

I will happily part with some of the goodies tonight at a cookie exchange party my friend is hosting. But I know that I will come home with goodies as well. It's an exchange, after all.

For those of you who will see me when I go home to Minnesota for Christmas, expect to receive baked goods. Unless I've eaten them all. If that happens, you can expect me to ask you to join me for a run.

Here are a few looks at what I made for the cookie exchange. They're "healthy" ginger snaps. For the recipe, click here.

I wear a size 8. Unless it's a running shoe. Then I wear a size 9. Sometimes I'm an 8 1/2.

After six weeks of bliss -- surrounding myself with a dozen women who are smart and full of interesting life experiences and who have a passion to write and learn about the craft; learning from an instructor who is quick with an inspiring quote, literary reference or insightful comment and who, I believe, could have a career as a therapist; and writing my first personal essay in years -- my writing seminar is over.

It's hard to write about writing, and equally difficult, in my experience, to write about a writing class.

I won't write a long, winding post about the seminar. Instead, I will leave you with a few quotes from class that make me want to be better.

Topics are everywhere. They're like shoes; you just have to see what fits. -- Classmate

Listen with the ear of the heart. -- St. Benedict

If I can't find some kind of take-home message in my experience, I set (the essay) aside until I do. -- Katheryn Lay

Everyone has experiences; we as writers must make something of them, in both language and idea. -- Stephen Corey

I am a writer by determination rather than natural talent. -- Ernest Hemingway

Amen.

Losing streak.

Like in life, you win some and you lose some in the kitchen. Today, I'm on a losing streak.

It started during my trip to the grocery store to pick up my list of baking ingredients. I couldn't find molasses in the baking aisle. It was out of stock there, but there were small jars of molasses in the kosher section. I brought the molasses home, excited to make my first ever ginger snaps, only to consult my recipe and learn that I needed a cup. The jar contains only seven tablespoons. It takes 16 tablespoons to equal one cup (I didn't know this offhand; I had to look it up.).

I decided the ginger snaps could wait until tomorrow and that I would embark on the project of making sugar cookie cutouts with frosting, as well as almond bark dipped pretzels. The cutouts were easy enough, and the dough is resting in the fridge for a few hours. The process of melting the bark and dipping the pretzels went well, too. Until it didn't.


I thought red sprinkles added nice holidazzle. But I wanted to be bold. So with my recently purchased food coloring, I added a few drops of green dye to the almond bark. Umm, yeah, if you want to trash your almond bark, this is the way to do it. The dye thickened the bark so that it would no longer coat the pretzels. (As I type this, Ben is digging into my already small supply of dipped pretzels. I didn't think he liked vanilla almond bark.)



I'm headed to a different grocery store for more vanilla and chocolate almond bark. And a big-butt jar of molasses. Plus ingredients for Ben's fancy toffee. And maybe some sanity. I wonder what aisle it's in.

The Cookie Exchange.

***I hope Indie has a forgiving heart. Poor guy is very sensitive to sound and hated, if you couldn't tell by the photo, wearing the antlers.

Happy holidays!

I am going over the list of holiday goodies I plan to bake this week while listening to Christmas music -- how appropriate -- and this is what I have come up with:

--almond bark dipped pretzels
--ginger snaps
--sugar cutouts
--another batch of caramels (maybe next week)

A normal person might think this is plenty of baking. But I have significant free time being unemployed, and I'd like to take advantage of my sorry state. I might not get such precious free time for baking again in the near future.

I've signed up for various cookie countdowns for inspiration. If you'd like to be similarly inspired, go here and here.

Caramels, part II

A few warnings on caramel-making:

1. Give caramels to friends and family as quickly as possible. Otherwise, you may find yourself walking to the fridge a few times in the morning, afternoon and evening to eat a handful. This could be hazardous to your waistline come your holiday party.

2. Once you store the caramels in a cool place, keep them there. They get ultra gooey and sticky and become difficult to unwrap in room temperature.

3. These buggers can sometimes be difficult to unwrap no matter the temperature. I blame this on my poor wrapping skills (I used wax paper). If you've made caramels before and are an expert wrapper (Anna, not rapper), please leave a note with your advice in the comments section.

The holiday baking is underway!

Look at you Ms. Martha Stewart. -- Friend

Since getting married two years ago, I've hosted an annual baking fest with friends. We all bake a few dozen cookies or treats and share them with each other. This year, I'm not hosting such an event. My kitchen is too small. I may be going it alone, but I'm ramping up this year's baking efforts and I'm spreading my baking throughout the month of December so I don't get burned out in one weekend.

The holiday baking commenced yesterday evening with caramels. I have fond, fond memories of these homemade caramels. I attended a private Catholic elementary school, and every December we'd have a program called Advent Angels. We picked a classmate's name out of a hat, and for four weeks, we were his/her Advent Angel. We occasionally brought goodies like candy and cards and maybe even a note. Usually on the last day before Christmas break, we revealed ourselves as Advent Angels and gave a bigger gift of $5 to $10. I recall my sixth grade year when I got lots and lots of homemade caramels, and I fell in love with them. I love the gooey goodness and sweetness of them. I continue to find them at holiday parties and cookie exchanges. But they've always had an air of mystery for me. Like how does one make these caramels? And can someone like me, a mortal, make them?

Well, I apparently can. I whipped up a batch last night. Cooking the caramels was easy. It was cutting and wrapping them that took me almost two hours. Two hours. But they were well worth it. I have a container full of caramels in the fridge, keeping cool. I plan to give them away as gifts (I recommend others on a budget do the same) in cute containers and take the rest home for Christmas. And you can do the same. Here's the recipe:

Melt in the Mouth Caramels

Makes about 2 1/2 pounds

1 cup butter or margarine
1 pound brown sugar (equals about 2 1/4 cups)
Dash salt
1 cup light corn syrup
1 14oz can of sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Melt butter in a heavy saucepan. Add brown sugar and salt. Stir until thoroughly combined. Stir in corn syrup and mix well. Gradually add milk, stirring constantly.

Cook and stir over medium heat until candy reaches firm ball stage or 245 degrees on candy thermometer. Stir for about 12 to 15 min.

Remove from heat, stir in vanilla. Pour into a buttered 9 inch square pan. Cool (for about two hours) and cut into squares.

Recipe from a 1974 cookbook

Who got rejected today? Thumbs are pointing at me.

I don't know whether to cry or laugh or pick up the bottle.

I followed up today on a part-time receptionist position I had applied for two weeks ago, and I was informed that while I have an "interesting" background, I am not being considered for an interview. The reason had something to do with other candidates more closely fitting the position's requirements.

Answer the phone? Check. I talked to strangers, usually pleasantly, every day at my last job.
Order supplies? Check. I am the CEO of this household, and I know when it's time to buy toilet paper.
Organize the mail? Check. I worked as a bank teller and was an assistant in my high school guidance counselor's and principal's offices, where much organizing was done.

Not to mention that I have a college degree and years of professional experience. And I would agree that I have a darn fascinating background.

OK, so I won't pick up the bottle. I shouldn't even joke about that sort of thing. Besides, I'm a light weight, and it wouldn't do much good. I've laughed a little already. But I might have a good cry left in me.

Butternut squash rules, pumpkin drools

I love all things pumpkin.

Pumpkin lattes. Pumpkin muffins. Pumpkin bars. Pumpkin bread. Pumpkin cookies that more closely resemble muffin tops, which I made last week, by the way. Pumpkin Chai tea lattes. Pumpkin ice cream. Pumpkin ravioli.

You get the idea.

But in a competition between butternut squash pie (which I made) and pumpkin pie (which my brother-in-law made) this past Thanksgiving, butternut squash pie came out on top.

I still love all things pumpkin, even pumpkin pie. But when it comes to pie, my pie rules.

Oh crap, have I really applied for 18 jobs?

I just stumbled across a description for a job opening that made my heart flutter. I don't feel qualified, but, hell, I'm applying. It would only be the 19th job I've applied for during the past two and a half months. I know rejection like Victoria's Secret knows underwear.

I'm not going to be able to support my husband's habit (spending lots of money to attend b-school), if I don't get hired.

Let the cover letter writing commence!

In other news, I turned 26 yesterday. I have mixed feelings about being 26, and I will share them soon. Be patient, my friends.

Happy anniversary, Indie!

Today is adoption day in our household.

One year ago, Ben surprised me with Indie, who at the time was just a scared little thing who had piddled on my rug. He is still timid, but he has transformed into a smart, adorable, charming and, most of all, loving pooch.

He has made our lives better. He cuddles and kisses. He protects us (he's a big dog in a little body). He keeps us warm on cold nights. He is our therapy dog. He is our baby.

Happy adoption day, Indie!

Giving thanks.

Today I was jogging along Lake Michigan, snot forming and tears running (because of the wind), when I considered how thankful I am for my current state.

I may not have a job, but I have my health; the freedom to run at 1 p.m. on a weekday (along Lake Michigan!); an adoring husband and loving dog; a writing class where I'm learning a ton thanks to a smart, thoughtful writing instructor; supportive friends and family.

This week alone, I will have the good fortune to have a birthday lunch with my friends, attend National Public Radio's "Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me" and see "Twilight: New Moon" with my husband, who will just have to endure my swooning over Robert Pattinson.

Life is good.

The nice things wives do for their husbands...

I hurt today. My knees, my inner thighs, my butt and even the area of my arm near my armpits.

When I met my friend for our 6:30 a.m. run today, I asked if we could go an alternative -- shorter -- route. My knees woke up angry today, and I wanted to be nice to them. Turns out, we ran a route that is just as long as our usual one. But this one was prettier -- along Lake Michigan -- and so I forgot about my knees.

Who knew that 45 minutes of flag football could make you sore! It's a good kind of sore. The kind where you're reminded that you did something beneficial for your body. I'm happy I'm sore. But I feel old whenever I climb up and down the stairs to our third-floor apartment.

Adult intramural sports.

My husband's intramural flag football team was hurting for players today, and without enough players, the team would have had to forfeit.

And this morning, Ben warned me that I might have to fill in.

I pushed his comment aside, got dressed in jeans and a turtle neck and trotted back to our office intent on job searching. I thought that if I went about my morning, in the office out of Ben's sight, he might forget that he needed me to play ball.

But about an hour before the game was scheduled to start, he asked me to get dressed. He didn't know if his team would need me, but would I go anyway?

I put on my angry face -- eyes rolling -- and changed into exercise clothes. I wanted to lecture him on commitment. If his peers sign up for football, they should show up.

Other wives and husbands might have been happy for an excuse to escape from their apartments to spend an hour outside. To play football. In the middle of a weekday. But I don't play football. For those who knew me when I was a kid, they know that ball sports and I DON'T MIX.

The kids used to call me butter fingers. The few times my teammates threw me the basketball during elementary school, the ball always slipped through my fingers. And when I played summer softball in junior high, I oddly could always catch the ball in practice but never in a game.

We drove to the football field, but I waited in the car with my book. I told Ben to get me if he needed me, otherwise I would keep on reading until the game was over.

About 10 minutes later, he motioned for me. Arms crossed, I walked to the field and tried to give his teammates the stink eye.

One asked me, "Isn't this better than running marathons?"

Did he know that I can't catch a football? Or throw one?

The game got underway, and I ran back and forth on the field as I had promised.

"Run up and down the field. That's all I'm going to do," I told Ben.

I also cheered on my teammates. I huddled and pretended to know about "options" and "blitzes." I covered a girl who was decent, who got to run with the ball a few times. I even made a "tackle," and I have the grass stains and sore knee (hours later) to prove it.

I am a domestic diva.

I lived up to my domestic diva name this weekend.

And I present the evidence to show you how:
1. I did three loads of laundry Friday.
2. I scrubbed toilets and swept floors, cleaned the sinks and mirrors, dusted, wiped down and cleaned our hairy couch (thanks to Indie), took bleach to the white cupboards and...I can't remember what else.
3. Cut seven cups of vegetables Friday night to prepare for slow cooker potato soup on Saturday Then made waffles. The homemade kind, not the box version.
5. Went to the grocery store at some point.
6. Got up early Saturday to start heating the potato soup in the slow cooker.
7. Picked up honeycrisp apples from the farmer's market.
8. Went into the city to run nearly 8 miles in Lincoln Park.
9. Came home from run and cooked a batch of chili and two butternut squash pies.
10. Hosted seven friends for dinner and board games.


Chili (courtesy of my mother-in-law)

1. Cook 2 pounds lean hamburger and 1 chopped onion. (I added 1 green pepper) Drain.

2. In a large pot, add:
--2 28 oz. cans diced tomatoes

--16 oz. tomato sauce

--1/2 46 oz. can tomato juice
--2 15 oz. cans kidney beans, drained

--5 teaspoons chili powder (I added more of this, too)

--2 tsp salt

--1/4 teaspoon cayenne red pepper
--(I added a pinch or two of cumin and 1 chopped jalapeno)

3. Bring to a boil, then simmer for 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

Serves 8-9

Slow-cooker, healthy potato soup (courtesy of Cooking Light)
Ingredients:
--4 cups cubed peeled baking potato
--1 cup chopped onion
--1 cup thinly sliced celery
--3/4 cup thinly sliced carrot
--3 tbs butter, cut into small pieces
--1 1/4 tsp salt
--1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
--3 garlic cloves, minced
--1/4 cup all-purpose flour
--1 1/2 cups 2% reduced-fat milk
--7 tbs shredded reduced-fat sharp cheddar cheese
--Freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Place first 9 ingredients in a 4 1/2-quart electric slow cooker, stir well. Cover and cook on LOW 6 to 7 hours or until vegetables are tender. Increase heat to HIGH.
2. Lightly spoon flour into a dry measuring cup; level with a knife. Place flour in a bowl; gradually add milk, stirring with a whisk until well blended. Stir into soup. Cook uncovered, 25 minutes or until thick, stirring frequently. Ladle soup into individual bowls, and sprinkle with cheese and additional pepper, if desired. Yield: 7 servings (serving size: 1 cup soup and 1 tbs cheese).
Calories: 194, Fat: 7.6 g

Butternut squash pie (Better Than Pumpkin Pie)

Oink, oink baby.

I've made food that's decent, good, worth making again.

But tonight, I tried a recipe that forced -- yes, forced -- me to eat my food slowly so I could appreciate each bite. It's the kind of recipe I would like to try on guests and family.

Tonight, I had the best pork chop of my life. Not in some fancy restaurant, but in my very own home. And I made it.

What made the pork chops so good? For starters, these were moist little babies. I'm usually not a big fan of pork chops because they tend to be dry. Also, if you know me, you know that I adore sweets. Point of fact: I've had so many mini Halloween candy bars today that I won't even repeat the number. Back to the chops, the sauce was sweet and gooey, candy-like, even. Kind of like feasting on dessert, only it wasn't.

And it was easy to make. I spent less than 5 minutes prepping, and the pork chops only took about 10 minutes to cook. And the sauce, well, that only took a few minutes, too.

So just give you the recipe already, OK, here it is. Enjoy.

Doing the math.

So far in 2009, I have run 877 miles. The non-runner is probably thinking, "Whoa, that's alotta miles."

When I see that number, all I can think about is that I have 123 more to go between now and Dec. 31 until I reach 1,000 miles -- roughly the number of miles I logged in 2008.

That year was the year of the race for me. Not only did I run a full marathon, I also ran a 20-mile race, three half-marathons and a 10k. (Full disclosure: 20-mile races are more like training runs for the marathon. I don't really care about time.)

As we approach the dawn of the holiday season, I feel like I'm to have to make a conscious effort to hit 1,000. It is damn tough, at least for me, to get off the couch when I'm home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and put on running tights, throw on a long-sleeve and hat, and pull my Asics out of the closet for even a short jog.

If only I had more relatives who like to run. And who aren't shy about kicking my ass out the door.

No. 37

Today has special meaning for millions. President Barack Obama was elected one year ago. No matter your opinion of him, his election probably means something to you.

In my household, we remember Nov. 4 for an entirely different reason. Today, had my father beaten his cancer so many years ago, my parents would be celebrating their 37th wedding anniversary.

But nearly 15 years ago, on April 4, 1995, my dad died. Multiple Myeloma killed him.

My sister and I sent our mom flowers. We wanted to let her know that, like every other year on this day, we are thinking of her.

Calling all chili recipes.

I need your best chili recipe -- one that will fill tummies and put smiles on faces.

Ben and I are hosting friends this weekend, and we'll be serving comfort food and entertaining with board games. I'm making hearty potato soup in the crock pot for the non-meat-eaters and those who just love potato soup. We also want to cook up a batch of chili that meets the following:

--Must contain hamburger
--Must have a slight kick
--Must be able to cook on a stove instead of a crock pot
--Must be hearty and not soup-y
--Must be AWESOME

Post your recipe in the comment section. If I choose your recipe and it goes over well with our friends, you will win......................................................................MY PRAISE. That's the best I can do. I'm hopelessly unemployed.

Another post on running.

As my friends and family know, I love to run. And I love to read about running. I subscribe to Runner's World and check the magazine's Web site usually daily.

Today I came across this blog post on Runner's World and felt compelled to share.

Will run for chocolate.

It's hard to pass up a race that revolves around chocolate -- and lots of it.

So in June, I signed up for the Hot Chocolate 15k. I had never run a 15k before, but the distance (approximately 9.3 miles) seemed very doable. (I've run three marathons, seven half-marathons and numerous other races.)

The Hot Chocolate 15k was held in Chicago's Lincoln Park yesterday. My running buddy, Naomi, timed her visit during the weekend of the race.

Together, Naomi, Ben and I ran it. They could have left me in their dust. Although I've run and trained with Naomi for four years, she is a better and faster racer. And Ben can kick my butt almost any day. But since Naomi was visiting, she wanted to hang back with me. And I think Ben just wanted to see how fast he could push me. He didn't let a mile pass without telling me to pick up the pace, letting me know the pace, encouraging me or asking me who I was feeling. A series of f-bombs filled my mouth but never escaped my lips. I ran an average 9:06/mile pace and finished in 1 hour, 24 minutes.

With the exception of the Twin Cities Marathon, the Hot Chocolate 15k is now a race favorite. It was well-organized. The goodie bag outshines every other goodie bag. (I got a Nike running coat, fleece hat and a draw-string bag. When I wear the coat, I feel like Kara Goucher -- only not as fast or as gorgeous.) There were plenty of port-a-potties with little or no wait for them. Sometimes racers get greedy and gobble up more than their fair share of post-race food. But there was ample hot chocolate, fondue snacks and backpacks full of chocolate candy afterward. And you can't beat running along Lake Michigan with thousands (4,100 people finished the 15k component) of strangers.

One recipe you shouldn't try.

For the second time in the past year, I made creamy peanut noodles.

I cooked it with my friend Naomi, who was staying over night with me because we had a 20-mile training run the following day. It made for decent carb-loading fare. Nothing I'd want to eat on a weekly or even monthly basis.

I made it again last night because it's so simple and healthy. But I ended up emptying the bowl in the garbage. And even Ben said he didn't need a second helping.

I'm sharing this recipe, but I suggest you skip it.

Tease.

What's for dinner, honey? Oh, just some creamy peanut noodles.

Stay tuned for a full report on this healthy, carbriffic dish.

A forehead-slapping moment.

I'm sitting on the couch, reading various blogs and social networking sites when I realize I'm hungry.

The oven is on, and I wonder, "How much longer before the potatoes are done?"

Then it occurs to me, "Oh yeah, I haven't put the potatoes in the oven yet."

And my stomach growls.

Random.

I am considering applying for an unpaid, very part-time internship in public radio.

I baked blueberry muffins (the kind with the strudel on top) yesterday. They were of the box variety. My husband enjoyed them and said I'm a great homemaker.

We had our first guests this weekend since moving here. We spent a rainy afternoon in downtown Chicago, saw a drag show for free at Northwestern, ate really bad food, drank too many beers in Wrigleyville, strolled the beach, enjoyed steak in a red-wine sauce with shallots at home, and saw a scary movie. We have guests visiting through mid-November. Apparently no one wants to brave the Chicago winter.

In one week, I start my writing class at the Newberry Library. I'm petrified but also very, very excited. I have a notebook next to my bed so I can write down essay ideas as they come to me. I think I may have one or two decent ideas.

I got the dry heaves after a 7.5-mile run with Ben yesterday afternoon. The heaves sucked; the run was excellent. Nothing better than running on a mild October day when the streets are lined with trees with gold leaves. Ben and I have never run more than 3 or 4 miles together because I'm usually too slow for him. That was not the case yesterday. Being unemployed = a lot of time for running. Attending MBA school = few opportunities to run.

Hydrogen Peroxide.

I willfully made my dog vomit today.

Before you call me a lousy dog mom -- a characterization I would agree with -- let me explain.

I was preparing a double batch of potato soup when the unthinkable happened. Indie, who tails me, was lying on the rug while I sliced and diced a dozen cups of vegetables. I was finishing up when I noticed a garlic clove on the rug. I must have dropped it when I carried the cloves over to the crock pot. Though Indie had not eaten it, he had chewed it.

We give him people food like carrots and apples. But some foods -- such as garlic, onions and grapes -- are toxic and can be lethal when dogs consume them.

I sniffed Indie's mouth for the garlic smell. It was faintly apparent. So I went into crisis mode. I went online to read about garlic and dogs, though I knew before my search what I would find: garlic is BAD for dogs. If eaten in large quantities, it can kill.

I called our vet, who had to do some of her own research before rendering advice. She thought Indie would be fine -- the amount was small -- but that if I wanted, I could induce vomit. And if I was still concerned, I could take him in for a blood test to check for anemia.

Off I went to the grocery store for hydrogen peroxide, which until today I didn't know is a must for your doggie medicine cabinet. I also got an oral syringe.

When I returned home, I grabbed Indie and hunkered down for a fight. Dogs do not like hydrogen peroxide. Big surprise.

Although it was hugely traumatic, I pried his teeth apart, inserted the syringe and forced a few teaspoons of the awful stuff down his mouth. He gave chase a few times, and I followed every time. I didn't want to do it, but I had to, you know?

He foamed at the mouth and spit out some clear liquid. Nothing resembling vomit. I thought the hydrogen peroxide trick had been a failure. Until....

I was online -- preparing for a meeting with a co-director of a graduate program -- when I saw that the hydrogen peroxide was working wonders on Indie.

He threw up. All over the couch. The amount was the size of a football. I won't go into detail but I'm fairly certain that the garlic is now in the garbage.

Despite our battle this morning and forcing the most lovable 18-pound puggle in the world to vomit, he still loves me. He's curled up next to me as I type. And I'm so, so thankful.

Returning to the classroom.

I registered today for a six-week-long seminar on the personal essay.

The class will be held at Chicago's Newberry Library, which has a strong adult education program. A writing coach who has her master's in creative writing and has published a book on the subject is teaching the seminar.

I've considered taking this seminar for weeks, but I needed nudging from family and friends. I solicited their encouragement mainly because it's hard to think about spending $155 -- for fun -- when you're unemployed. But with their help, I came up with a number of reasons to sign up:

1. You have to spend money to make money. It's quite possible I could make connections in the class who could help me land a job. At this point, I'm not really picky about what that job might be.

2. Most likely I will finish the seminar a better writer.

3. It gives me something to do -- if only for two hours a week.

4. A publishable essay or two might result from it.

So in two weeks, class begins.

It was during my senior of high school that I last took a creative writing class. I had a full roster of journalism classes during college, but writing an article using the inverted pyramid style isn't the same.

Wish me luck. I think I need it.

Experimentation.

I am not adventurous in the kitchen.

I stick to recipes with few ingredients and simple directions. I seldom stray from the recipe.

But tonight -- after getting home late from a pilates class (more on that later) -- I thought what the heck. Experiment, I shall.

The plan for dinner was four-cheese wheat tortellini in a package. I had some pumpkin and evaporated milk on hand. I mixed about a 1/2 cup of pumpkin and about a 1/3 cup of evaporated milk (I wasn't measuring, so this explanation could be off), together in a sauce pan over slightly high heat. I added in a tablespoon of olive oil, some garlic and shallots.

Does the combination repulse you? I would agree it might sound odd. But many of the ingredients were in a recipe I had looked at yesterday for ravioli with pumpkin sauce.

The tortellini and pumpkin sauce turned out. And the parmesan and red chili pepper flakes I added on top rounded out the sauce nicely.

On to pilates.

Some of you may know that I applied for a retail position. Not a dream job, but a girl's gotta make money to pay the bills. I will not name the store here. I will only say that it's an athletic apparel store.

I interviewed in a group nearly two weeks ago and was asked to come in for a yoga class this week to meet some of the team members. I decided tonight would be the night. The store was hosting yoga for athletes. And as a yoga virgin, I heard this would be a good starter class.

I showed up at 7 -- only to find out that yoga had been canceled. But I could try pilates -- another first -- instead. There was no way I could say "no thanks" and turn around. I had to make a good impression. And really, what was the difference between trying yoga for the first time and pilates for the first time?

So I stayed. I tried it. I hurt.

No. 13

I just applied for my 13th (13th!!!) job since moving to Evanston.

This is a horrible time to be an unemployed journalist.

Soup is on.

'Tis the season for crockpot recipes.

My repertoire of recipes is small, but I have a few goodies that I am proud to share with followers, friends and relatives.

Today I'm making hearty potato soup in the crock pot. It's vegetarian, but my red meat-raised hubby is a huge fan. This is good because I have vegetarian friends and am always perplexed over what to cook for them when they visit. I made hearty potato soup last January when my vegetarian friend Britt visited. And if I accurately recall, she loved it. And Ben often asks me to make it.

So without further ado, here's the recipe for hearty (and healthy) potato soup, courtesy of Cooking Light.

Ingredients:
4 cups cubed peeled baking potato
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup thinly sliced celery
3/4 cup thinly sliced carrot
3 tbs butter, cut into small pieces
1 1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
1 (14 oz.) can vegetable broth
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups 2 percent reduced-fat milk
7 tbs shredded reduced-fat sharp cheddar cheese
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Directions:
1. Place first 9 ingredients in a 4 1/2-quart electric slow cooker; stir well. Cover and cook on low 6 to 7 hours or until vegetables are tender. Increase heat to high.
2. Lightly spoon flour into a dry measuring cup, level with a knife. Place flour in a bowl; gradually add milk, stirring with a whisk until well blended. Stir into soup. Cook uncovered for 25 minutes or until thick, stirring frequently. Ladle soup into individual bowls and sprinkle with cheese and additional pepper, if desired. Yield: 7 servings (serving size: 1 cup soup and 1 tbs cheese).

Really, it's just as good or even better than pumpkin pie

I may not have been Better Than Pumpkin Pie's biggest cheerleader when I initially wrote about it.

Turns out, the pie gets better with time. The spices come through. And the sweetness isn't as overpowering as it is when the pie first comes out of the oven.

The pie is so good that Ben gobbled up over half of it. With the exception of my initial slice, I only snuck bites in here and there. I baked the pie Friday night, and it was gone by yesterday afternoon. Yummy but oh so naughty.

I encourage you to make the pie for Thanksgiving or Christmas or for a dinner party. We're having it again on Friday night because Ben is inviting friends over for a steak dinner.

Well, I'm off to make pumpkin cupcakes for a dinner party tonight. 'Tis the season. Winter is here early.

Better than Pumpkin Pie

Sometimes my favorite fall days are the crappy ones. The ones when it rains all day, is cold and dreary.

Today was that day.

I knew it was coming. I am a chronic forecast checker. And so I planned how I would spend my day -- hanging at home, baking and watching TV with the world's cutest dog. Today was a perfect day to bake my first pie.

We had leftover butternut squash from the weekend. After a quick scan on the net for butternut squash recipes, I found this one. Better than Pumpkin Pie is good. Is it truly better than pumpkin pie? I'll leave that for you to judge.

I found it to taste heavy on sugar and light on spice, even though I added a little more than a pinch each of the spices required. That's saying a lot because I looooove sweets. Next time, I will reduce the amount of brown sugar and add a little more spice.

I would post a picture, but I already cut into the pie and it doesn't look nearly as beautiful as it did when I pulled it out of the oven. So you will just have to trust that I did a decent job with it.

Let the fall and winter baking continue!

Now, that's determination

I love running and I never stop to pee during a marathon, but this is just so, so, so extreme.

Getting picked last

I'm starting to think I should have my own reality TV show. It would be called "The Real Housewives of Kellogg."

With the exception of freelance work -- which I already finished -- I am jobless. When I moved to Evanston, several other ladies who had moved here for the same reason as me were in my position. They were super intelligent, well educated and previously held good jobs. But they had arrived with few or no job prospects.

Slowly, that's changing. One by one, my friends are getting hired. And I'm so, so, so happy for them.

At the same time, I feel like I'm back in elementary school. It's physical education class, and we're playing kickball. And I'm one of the last kids getting picked for the team.

I hope this is a sign of good luck.

I got crapped on at the beginning of my morning run.

I thought a seed had dropped down from a tree. Turned out to be bird poop. I was disgusted -- and still am -- but I kept on running anyway.

The girl running 7 miles around Evanston this morning with the white dribble down her blue shirt? Yep, that was me.

Time for a shower.

The Art of Being Frugal: Tip #4

I went to a ball this weekend. I'm not sure if I was the bell, but I sure felt like one.

Here's why: I got all prettied up at the local cosmetology school.

And the cost?

Drumroll please....

Hair and make-up for $32.

I felt like an Emmy Award winner, and I paid only $32. Of course, going to a cosmetology school requires patience and sometimes a healthy dose of honesty (I didn't like how my hair was initially styled, and I said so. It meant sitting in the chair for an hour and a half, so the student could try a new style.).

My frugal ways didn't end at the salon.

I wore a strapless, knee-length Calvin Klein black dress (that I got at a major, major discount in June) with black peep-toe shoes and carried a shiny black clutch. In all, the ensemble cost $45. Not bad. Especially since I can wear the dress many, many more times. I've had the shoes for almost two years already. And I expect to get significant mileage out of the clutch.

So my frugal tip of the day/week is to give your local cosmetology school a try. If you're wary of getting anything major done, schools usually offer an array of services at a discount -- from manicures to massages to facials.

The world's easiest slow cooker recipe...even for yours truly

This recipe is from my lovely sister-in-law, Sarah.

It is molto, molto easy, delicious and the perfect meal to fill your belly during the fall and winter months in the Midwest.

Chicken Salsa

-- 4 chicken breasts
-- 1 16 oz. jar of salsa
-- 1 packet of taco seasoning

Put all of the ingredients in the slow cooker. Cook on low setting for up to 10 hours. Approximately 90 minutes before eating, fork through the chicken to shred it.

Serves: 4-5 people

I use the chicken as a fajita filler. I put it on a wheat tortilla and add my favorite toppings. Enjoy!

One way unemployment is treating me well

I was adding today's running information to my log at Runner's World when I saw that I had run an amazing (I'm no Kara Goucher) 89 miles so far this month. And the month isn't over.

That's the most I've run in a single month since I was deep in training last April for the Fargo Marathon, which was held in early May. In April, I ran an even more amazing 136 miles.

I can feel the boost in mileage in my legs. I'm treating myself to the occasional pumpkin latte and platter of desserts (more on this later) with less guilt.

I say bring on more miles and the beautiful fall runs.

Opera in the bedroom

I need a recording device. Wait, I have one. So what I need is to actually use it.

Ben and Indie competed last night for loudest snorer. Usually Ben would win. But I think Indie took home the prize last night. I had to nudge and shush him more than once.

Running queen

If you want to see me in action on the race course, click here.

Future top chef?

Ben is tired of me saying how I'm impressed I am with myself. So I will tell you all instead.

I'm impressed with myself.

Why?

Because even though I was tired and wanted to put it off last night, I made the corn chowder recipe I mentioned the other day. And it turned out perfectly. I don't think I've been able to say that very often about the various recipes I've tried.

Ben liked the corn chowder. I liked it. All was good.

If you are curious and want to try your hand at homemade chowder, see this post for the recipe. But make it soon -- you need sweet corn on the cob for this dish.

Also, I did stray from the recipe a little. I left out the thyme. I'm not the biggest fan, and neither is Ben.

Enjoy! And, if you make it, you will have to let me know what you think.

5 a.m. wake-up call

At my now-retired blog, Brady Goes to Washington, I often complained about baby cockroaches in my kitchen. Gosh, I shudder even now thinking about it.

Now, I'm not battling cockroaches; I'm putting up with screaming toddlers late at night and in the wee morning hours.

We live on the third -- and top -- floor of our u-shaped brownstone walk-up building. A family of four live in the same apartment on the first floor. For weeks, the weather has been cool enough that you can keep your windows all day. It's nice to have a breeze through our place, but we also get the sounds that come through it.

Usually it's quiet. And it would stay that way if it weren't for that family of four on floor one. There are two girls, both under two I believe, and I heard from their mother that one doesn't sleep during the day and the other doesn't sleep at night. Maybe it's their sleeping patterns -- I don't know -- but they've been crabby lately. Really crabby. So crabby that they can wail for up to an hour straight (no, I'm not exaggerating...just ask my neighbors). And they tend to do this at a not so ideal time. Earlier this week, they screamed for an hour around 10 p.m. (again not exaggerating...I saw my neighbors looking out their windows to see what all the fuss was about). Today, they tested out their lungs at 5 a.m. 5 a.m.!!!!!

I think it's time for the family to close their windows -- at least when their little girls are crying. I don't have children, but I can imagine how difficult it is to raise two toddlers. Still, I don't think we need a 5 a.m. wake-up call to hear just how hard it is.

corndog, but not in that order

The dog
Some of you have expressed concern over Indie.

The good news is that he has been the same Indie all week: full of spirit, very loving and active. He even chased after his girlfriend, a three-month-old puggle, Tuesday evening at top speed.

The bad news is that he's had diarrhea flare-ups. I don't think anything is seriously wrong with him. I blame the flare-ups on me. I stopped giving him medicine late last week a day or two after his diarrhea had ceased. I was under the impression from the doctor to stop giving him the medicines after he had a full day or two of normal poop (sorry, too much information?). I should have continued giving him the medicine and prescription dog food until the meds ran out. So now he's taking medicine with his meals, and he seems to be doing better (or should I say, I'm not cleaning up around the house?).

The corn
I've never had corn chowder, but after reading a blog post about it, that's going to change.

While I'm running the Chicago Beachathlon on Saturday, Ben will be on a mission at the Evanston Farmer's Market to pick up ingredients for this. I love corn, and I love potatoes, so I'm pretty sure I will love this. The recipe calls for bacon, so I think Ben will love it, too.

I plan to make it for dinner Sunday. And if I do, I will make sure you get to read all about it.

Are you a corn chowder fan? Have you ever made it? If you have tips, a recipe or want to weigh in, please leave a comment.

Dial 911!

I am ready to file a police report. But I know I won't. Instead, I will vent to you, dear reader.

Alley parking is not allowed in Evanston, yet my neighbor living opposite my garage thinks he/she can park there.

Because my garage is narrower than a car wash and it's located at the bottom of a dip, it takes skill to park. Skill I do not have. I seriously hope I never have to take my driver's test again for fear I would fail miserably because of my poor parking ability.

The parking situation is made worse by my neighbor, whose car obstructs proper backing up so I can straighten out my car. Did I mention my car is actually Ben's 2003 Jeep? Yeah, my father-in-law sold my little two-door car of eight years this week. And I'm so, so, so happy to be rid of it. But I'd take it back if it meant easy parking.

Back to the situation at hand...

I have driven only twice in Evanston -- in our month here -- because of this inconsiderate neighbor. The first time was because Indie was sick, and I had no choice but to drive him to the vent. Thankfully, my neighbor's car was gone and even though I was sweating over having to park inside the garage, I did it. And might I add that Ben was impressed with the job I did.

I drove again this weekend. And the Jeep has been parked on the street ever since. Why? Because of the neighbor and his/her car. I thought this neighbor might have a job and his/her car would be gone today. But, no. Either he/she takes mass transit, is sick or is unemployed like me. And so his/her car sits.

Darn you, neighbor. Darn you (fist in air!).

I attempted parking the Jeep in the garage twice this afternoon, but I was unsuccessful. So I parked over a block away since weird parking rules kick in tomorrow and no cars are allowed on the even side of the street.

The Sky Princess

For once, I'm going to devote a post to someone other than myself. I'm using this space to promote my uncle's latest children's book, "The Sky Princess Moves to the Land of Peaches."

A few years ago, my aunt Ann Marie and uncle Jon adopted a little girl, Skylar, from China. Skylar has brought such joy to not only her parents, but her aunts and uncles, numerous cousins, big brothers and other relatives and friends.

Inspired by his daughter, Jon wrote a children's series. His first book was "The Sky Princess." The second, "The Sky Princess Moves to the Land of Peaches," was released this summer. If you venture to Jon's Web site, you will learn that his books are meant to teach children the value of kindness and personal responsibility.

If you're a parent or know a parent of a young child, I highly recommend the books. They're beautiful -- and affordable. Jon is willing to send copies, take care of the taxes and shipping, and sign the books -- all for $15.

He has more books on the way, so stay updated by checking his Web site or becoming a fan on Facebook.

The Art of Being Frugal: Tip #3

For the first time in my adult life, I have a library card.

It's not that I didn't enjoy reading. I looove to read -- but I almost always paid for the books that occupied my night stand.

Those days are over. Now that I'm extra frugal, I am taking advantage of the Evanston Public Library. And almost as much as I love to read, I love checking out books for free.

Last week, I checked out Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, which basically taught me that to be really good at something I must do it for 10,000 hours. Curious by this, I checked my running log to see how many hours I had run since I started keeping track of my miles. I'm nowhere close to 10,000 hours. In fact, I don't know if I ever could -- without being a high-paid elite -- run for 10,000 hours. I would post the actual number of hours I've run, but the Web site where I log my runs is malfunctioning. Another post, I guess.

Today, I picked up Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, a book on writing, and Frida by Barbara Mujica.

By checking out these books alone, I've saved approximately $60. That's a trip to the grocery store, a date night, an electric bill, or a few outfits from the recycled clothing store.

Dog mom

Indie is sick.

He's had severe diarrhea for the past 12 hours. His four movements during that time have all been in our house -- he is unable to make it outside on time, and I have difficulty interrupting him in the act.

I called our old clinic, Lake Harriet Vet, and a technician urged we take Indie to the doctor ASAP. We hadn't established a relationship with a vet here, but I called a clinic based on a recommendation of a dog owner I met a few weeks ago.

I'm putting off everything I had planned to do today to watch Indie and take care of him. Besides, I'm too afraid to leave him for more than a few minutes on the chance that his ailment is serious. And every few seconds, I glance at him to make sure he's OK.

This is what parenting must feel like.

The Art of Being Frugal

Having gone from two incomes to zero in my household, I'm honing my cheapskate skills when it's practical. And I thought I'd share a few spending tips I've been practicing:

Tip #1: Drink at home
Where I used to go to a coffee shop at least four times a week, I now brew Dunkin' Donuts at home. And, I would argue, I've mastered making coffee at home and it tastes better than a cup of Starbucks. If I'm inclined to stop at my neighborhood coffee shop, I question whether I really need that grande coffee with a steamed skim topper.

Tip #2: If you can, buy second-hand
When it comes to clothes, I've never been able to stomach spending a lot of money. So being frugal in the dressing room comes naturally. One might argue that I shouldn't step foot inside a clothing store until I land a job. But last week, I really wanted to look cute and impress at a Kellogg event for students and spouses. I was able to pull together an outfit for a night on the town (actually, it was a dance club boat) for $20. How was I able to do it? I went to a recycled -- or second-hand -- clothing store near campus. There, you can find Coach shoes, designer jeans and beautiful dresses on average for $10. (Thank God for students with deep pockets!) I bought a pair of skinny jeans and a cute top to match for a total of $23 with tax (see photo above).

Diversify, diversify, diversify

There is a "help wanted" sign in the window of a pet store just three blocks from my house. I first saw it when I moved to Evanston and joked to myself that I should apply. Who doesn't want to play with fluffy puppies all day?

When I walked by the store tonight, I thought about my career path. Seven years ago I decided to be a journalist, and it never really occurred to me that I should do anything else, with the exception of becoming a lawyer. I enjoyed writing and was decent at it. Great, no. But good enough, and I really, really liked seeing my words under my byline.

Along the way, I never questioned my future as a journalist. Between internships, classes and eventually jobs, I didn't pause and seriously ask myself, "What else?" I didn't practice the same skepticism I do in interviews with sources.

So here I am, a month and a half into unemployment, wondering, "What else?" What else could I be doing?

Friends and former colleagues say good writing and reporting skills can apply to jobs in most industries. But my resume is filled with newspaperin', and not one employer is biting. And I'm looking in a lot of places -- universities, health associations, hospitals, public relation firms, non-profits.

We're told when investing that we should diversify. Don't have all your eggs in one basket. And I think I should have taken that same advice seven years ago when I started taking classes at the University of Minnesota.

I printed an application today for a job at a well-known running store. Diversification, right?

Wanted: Income

I am wondering at what point I pause pause the serious career search and find any job I can get. (There's a running/walking store three blocks away, and I'm so tempted to stop in and ask if there are part-time opportunities. But I'm a big chicken. I doubt the store needs more help.)

Or maybe return to school to get a degree in an in-demand industry, like nursing. Although the only science class I took during college was geology -- or rocks for jocks as I called it -- and performed miserably. Worst grade I got during college!

Or maybe become a fitness trainer, since I so firmly believe that everyone should exercise but might need a little guidance and encouragement. I've gotten many a friend to sign up for distance races. But would you pay me $25 an hour (I'm worth it!) to show you how to run on the treadmill?

Granted, I've only been searching job listings, randomly applying for jobs and cold e-mailing people who might aid my quest for income for about two weeks.

SOS: I need help in the kitchen!

Ben returns from Peru Saturday around midnight, which means we have one day together before all the craziness of school starts at 8 a.m. Monday.

My hope is for us to relax together on Sunday. He will need it -- business school is really a two-year marathon where you get few water breaks. And although you might think an unemployed gal has lots of time on her hands, it ain't true. Looking for a full-time job has turned into a full-time job. And I'm doing a little freelancing. So Ben is not the only one who needs TLC.

So I've been thinking I should cook us a wonderful meal for us on Sunday. Ben will adore me for it. And I enjoy being adored:) We'll stay in, rent a move and eat whatever I whip up for us.

Here's the thing: I haven't cooked anything new or adventurous in a long while. And I'm not sure if I remember how to cook anything beyond buttered noodles, mac-n-cheese, and...cereal.

Oh dear.

60202

Ben and I have a new zip code.

We have been residents of 60202 for almost two weeks. And it is slowly beginning to feel like home.

We have a Starbucks two blocks away. Just down the block is an adorable boutique called The Mexican Shop with cute clothes, purses and jewelry under $30. I could do some damage there -- but not until I'm employed:) Also within blocks: two grocery stores, downtown Evanston and several restaurants. We're about a mile from Northwestern University and less than a mile from Lake Michigan. And we're a mile from the Chicago border. So our new digs -- location-wise -- will definitely do.

And our apartment -- well, Ben did good. We have two bedrooms and two bathrooms. So no waiting in line to shower. And the hardwood floors and white trim work remind me of our Minneapolis pad. Most important is that we're allowed to have Indie, who is as adorable as ever. With the exception of being attacked by another dog move-in weekend, he's doing well and adjusting to his new home.

On the job front, I've made few developments. But I will keep you all posted. Prayers and any Chicago area contacts are always appreciated:)

Brooke and Tony get married

I am pleased to share a link to some of the professional wedding photos. One word: stunning.

Small-town running

I'm home in Tracy, Minn., for a few days before I leave for Italy.

I've been trying to pack in runs every day since I've been here. It's been a busy past few weeks -- between moving out of our duplex in Minneapolis, getting my sister hitched and quitting work -- and I've had little time to exercise and eat healthy.

When I go out for a job, I encounter maybe one or two bicyclists -- and they're usually kids riding downtown for candy or heading to the pool. Never a runner. And I think I've figured out why it's so rare to see a runner lapping town.

Running stinks here.

And here's why:

-The only running path is about 1.5-mile long. It takes you out to Swift Lake, a man-made lake just outside of town.

-My "long" run is a 4.4-mile loop around town. It takes me out to the Dairy Queen and the Tracy High School. I have to spend more than a mile of this route going head-to-head with semis on U.S. Highway 14.

-This is a small town, so when you're out running, everyone tends to find out about it. Not that it's a bad thing. But not a lot of people run here. So when you do, it seems either strange or heroic to the townsfolk.

-Did I mention the wind? I darn near flew into the ditch running this morning.

-You have to worry about sharing the road with huge tractors.

-There's no one to run with.

Enough said.

Headed to the Windy City

So, it's official.

Ben and I are moving to Evanston, Ill., in mid-August. Ben will attend the two-year MBA program at Northwestern's Kellogg School of Management.

As for me, I'm job searching. If you know of any writing gigs, let me know.

Ben's last day on the job is July 10. Then he'll go to Tanzania for a vacay. I work until July 17. After resting at home for a few days, I'll head to Italy to vacay with Ben for about 10 days.

With our global travels behind us, we'll spend some quality time with our families and move to Evanston on Aug. 12.

So a fun, but busy summer is ahead of us. The countdown to our new adventure starts...NOW.

I need to run.

How quickly we forget pain.

It's been two weeks since I ran the Fargo Marathon. And although I was nearly in tears at the finish, I'm itching to do another race.

A race gives running a purpose. And I'm much, much more motivated to get out there. Even though I love to run, I really do need a purpose.

Part of me wants to sign up to do a half-marathon or 10k next Saturday. I haven't prepped for it, and it would likely be slow going, but it would feel so good to get back out there again. And I'd feel good about myself.

I need to find a race.

Pucker up

I may never qualify for the Boston Marathon, which has strict entry requirements. I would have to run a 3:40 marathon. The times slow as I advance in age.

If I ever make it, I can look forward to this guy.

Pucker up.

I'm back.

Dear blog,

You probably think I forgot about you. Well, I did.

The past few weeks have been hectic. And you're not the only thing I've neglected. Apparently I have two cavities, including one that may have reached the root in a tooth. Lesson of the year: flossing a few times a week just ain't gonna cut it.

During the past few weeks, Ben and I had to find a new place to live. Training for the Fargo Marathon kicked into high gear. Ben and I spent the night in St. Cloud Friday to run the Earth Day 20-miler. Work was busy, busy. Oh, and I've been trying to plan our trip to Italy this summer.

I will try not to forget you again, dear blog. But I probably will.


Yours truly,
Brady

Chicken salsa casserole

Bam! The chicken salsa casserole dish was finger-lickin' good. Healthy? Nope (it requires 4 cups of cheese!). But good? Heck yes.

Why you should try it:
1. It's good for a family dinner. If you're dining as a couple, you can trust you'll have leftovers. Make sure to freeze about half since there's likely no way you'll get through all the leftovers right away.
2. It has the perfect blend of spice and sweetness.
3. Fairly simple to make. I was a little perplexed by cooking the chicken in water. I'd never done it before. But it worked out.

Tips if you try it:
1. Prep time, at least for me, took about 25 minutes. Baking took 40 minutes. Prepare ahead of time (in the morning or the night before) and pop it in the oven when you get home. That way, you're not spending an hour-plus in the kitchen after work.
2. I read in the reviews that a dollop of sour cream or tortilla chips add a nice touch. Ben turned his into a salad.

New Recipe Monday II and III

As pledged, I've been trying a new recipe on Mondays that I don't work due to the new Tuesday-Saturday schedule.

Last week, I tried a new twist on mashed potatoes. For recipe, click here. Ben has asked that I make them again.

Tonight, I'm making salsa chicken rice casserole. Stay tuned for how it went.

Bad luck loves my car

Someone hit my car in the parking ramp on Friday -- and left a note.

He scraped the rear panel when he was backing out.

He left a note with his contact, insurance and license information. He wrote: "I'm so sorry!" and "Please call me."

So I called him, told him my car was a magnet for bad luck (so don't feel badly) and said I'd get back to him after I talked with my insurance company.

A rant

My mom turns 58 on Sunday.

She plans on celebrating her birthday by pulling a 12-hour shift at her second job. At a time when she should be relaxing more and enjoying life, she works two jobs. On top of her 40-hour-a-week job, she works about 20 hours a week caring for adults with special needs.

Oh how I wish I could win the lottery so she could go into retirement with her only job being enjoying her future grandbabies.

Roatan

Life's a beach.

Ben and I spent seven glorious days at the beach in Roatan. I read on the beach. I almost drifted off to sleep on the beach. I dined on the beach. I stayed in a bungalow a few feet from the beach.

We stayed in West Bay, which was about a half-mile long stretch of beach. The Italians dominated their strip. There were Speedos and topless women galore!

I woke up around 6:30 a.m. and ran up and down the beach four of the days we were there. It was hot, so I never made it more than 3 miles.

We met up in Roatan with Ben's parents, his brother and his brother's girlfriend. We went out one evening on our own. How romantic. We dined at Bite on the Beach, which had these giant, neon eels out front. Pretty cool.


We stayed in a basic bungalow. We had a bed, a fridge and air conditioner. Oh, and on the last few nights, we had a lizard. I'll call him -- or her -- thethingthatkeptmeupatnight.

Ben and I had a good time. But we missed our dog and were ready to come home.

A dolphin tried to make out with me.