So many kitchen misadventures to be had, so little time

I realize that I'm not living up to the title of this blog. As of late, I've had very few kitchen misadventures.

I can only blame myself. My work schedule hasn't been too demanding, although that's likely to change with a new job that I started yesterday. I also like to plant my lazy butt in front of the TV and eat a bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar (this is a recent discovery, and I've fallen in love with oatmeal) while Ben sits nearby with work he has brought home. I forget how romantic it can be to spend time in the kitchen with your significant other.

Today, I'm working the 3-to-11 shift, which means I've had the morning to myself. It reminds me of this summer and how I foolishly complained about having all the time in the world to get in trouble in the kitchen. I long for the days when I can spend as much or as little time as I want in the kitchen, go for a run with my buddy Naomi in the morning or afternoon and have hours to read magazines and books.

Until then, I'll work on the kitchen misadventure part a little more.

Those darn resolutions

The New Year's resolvers continue to come out of the woodwork. Or maybe it's the wind chill of 45 below zero?

Tonight, I had to wait in line just to get my pass swiped at the YMCA. And there was a line at the registration desk where people can join the fitness center. Lucky for me, though, people generally don't like treadmills So I got to have one all to myself for four glorious miles.

Salsa picante!

Three words to spice up your marriage/relationship: salsa dance lessons.

For Christmas, Ben bought me a pack of dance classes. We opted to take salsa dancing, although we plan on pursuing other ballroom styles at some point. So far, we've taken four group classes and have loved it. Every Friday after work, we head to the dance studio in St. Paul, take our 50-minute class and have dinner at a new restaurant. Talk about heating up our date night.

When I told a former colleague recently about our latest adventure, he thought it was a great way to keep our marriage fresh. Only six months in, it really isn't that stale. But we'll always have salsa if it ever turns that way.

Butt steam

Tonight, as I was sitting uncomfortably close to a stranger on the bus, I considered myself lucky to have a warm seat amongst the packed crowd, even though the warmth was radiating from said stranger's but.

Why I cried like a baby at the I-35W on-ramp tonight

It all started on Tuesday, when, just blocks from home, Ben's Jeep died at the corner in front of Java Jack's.

Thankfully, we got it re-started only to have it die again 30 seconds later. We waited a little longer before trying it again. And by God, we made it all the way home. But Wednesday morning, the car started making funny noises again and keeled over again. So we had it towed to Roseville.

I have not a clue about cars, so I can't go into what was wrong with it. But tonight, I picked it up, paid the enormous bill and was on my merry way home, knowing I'd make it in time to watch Grey's Anatomy, when on the I-35W on-ramp , the malfunction indicator and check gages lights flickered on and the engine died.

This had never happened to me, at least when I was behind the wheel, so I quickly pulled the Jeep over hoping I wouldn't hit a car, flipped on my flashers, tried to start the car again, called Ben and started to ball.

So that's my story of why I cried on the I-35W on-ramp tonight. At least I got to drive a sweet silver Chrysler Town and Country home all the while feeling like a tool.

The six-month mark

Ben and I have enjoyed holy matrimony for six months now. Our schedule today reveals just how much a typical (though we're happily typical) married couple we have become.

8 a.m. I took my brother-in-law and cousin to the VFW to pick up my cousin's car. We experienced a wild night of karaoke and cheap beer last night at the veteran's club. OK, they enjoyed cheap beer. I put the kibosh on drinking beer after one. Someone had to get the kiddies home at the end of the night.

9:30 a.m. I connected with my kick-ass aunt, who, just a notch over 40, can push me at running any day. We logged seven miles.

11 a.m. Ben returned from his run and cooked us a fine, hearty lunch of baked pork chops. Yumm.

1:30 p.m. We went to the Running Room, where the gear is spendy but necessary. He got running tights (so sexy!) and a hat. I bought gloves that are marketed as the store's warmest. I hope the store isn't using false advertising because I have diagnosed myself with Raynaud's disease, which means keeping the digits warm is very, very important.

2 p.m. We proceeded to the Tea Garden to treat ourselves after our ambitious morning runs.

2:30 p.m. We returned home. I retreated to the kitchen, where I did the dishes. Ben took his spot in the living room, where he's been working for the last 45 or so minutes.


I'd like to take a nap now, but I have to whip up a batch of homemade chili instead. Ah, the domestic life.

Happy New Year

For the last few years, I have made the same resolution: gain a six-pack and lose five or 10 pounds. Neither really happened, and that is OK. I'm fit, so whether my stomach looks like a pack of beer doesn't really matter.

This year, as I nibble on a holiday cookie, I am documenting my 2008 goals. New Year's resolutions are cheesy and seldom followed through on, but goals are absolutely necessary for self-improvement. So here goes:

--Run one marathon and two half-marathons in 2008. It's way more attainable than it comes across. I ran the Twin Cities marathon two years ago, and I havelogged three half-marathons. I am weeks away from signing up for the Earth Day Half-Marathon, and Ben and I look forward to running the Chicago marathon together (we'll both be signed up for, but won't run next to each other, in the race). I just have to find a second half....

--Work at being a better writer. How vague is that, right? Well, that's why I phrased it "work at being" instead of just "being." Since college, I have spent much time at professional development. But that all changed last week.

So here's to a year of logging more miles and choosing better words.