Stress. Fractured.

So, you've probably noticed that the updates around here have gotten miiiighty scarce.

Well, there's a reason for that. This (re-)started out as my training journal, and there's been precious little training for the last month. I stupidly wore the wrong kind of shoes to play volleyball several weeks back, and totally fucked up my heel.

Dr. Pie (as in Cutie) thinks that it's presenting very out-of-character for plantar fasciitis. In fact, he suspects it may be a stress fracture. XRays were inconclusive.

So, two more weeks of no running and then a re-evaluation. Gee, thanks, Dr. Pie.

You would think that this would give me great opportunity to focus on the swimming, biking and strength-training, right?

You would be wrong.

This has sucked the life out of my workouts. I have been skipping my morning sessions left and right. Half-assing it when I manage to drag myself there in the evenings. Filling my formerly fluffy-bunny workout headspace with hate and dread and self-loathing.

Not to mention totally screwing with my mental health in all other areas. And I REALLY could use mental health in other areas. Work? Crisis. Finances? Crisis. Friends' lives? Crisis.

Heal, dammit.

Valentine's Signs

When your husband picks you up, and playfully throws you onto the bed, and you land wrong and hurt your neck?

That is a sign that you're getting damn old.

Such a Sap

I really enjoyed the Ad Extravaganza, erm, I mean, "Super Bowl" last night. Except for the one that made me cry so much I actually had to leave the room to avoid further embarrassing myself.

Freakin' Budweiser. Busting out with the little Clydesdale gazing up at the iconic wagon, trying so valiantly to pull it forward. . .and then the big horses quietly pushing from behind. I'm actually getting a little choked up just writing about it again.

And this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that my Bitty Girl chose yesterday to progress from two or three timid steps at a time to toddling across the room like a teeny-tiny sumo wrestler. Nope. Not a thing.

How did I miss this?

Ack tagged me, again. Dammit, woman! :)

Four jobs I've had in my life:
1. Senior Staff Analyst (doesn't that sound dirty? I love it!)
2. Assistant Director of Finance
3. Mom
4. Ginseng Weeder

Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. The Princess Bride
2. Full Metal Jacket
3. Office Space
4. Monty Python's Search for the Holy Grail

Four places I have lived:
1. Oshkosh (b'gosh!)
2. Arlington, VA
3. Detroit, MI (I do not recommend)
4. Oak Creek, WI

Four TV shows I love to watch:
1. Dancing with the Stars
2. 30-Minute Meals
3. . . . I got nuthin'. I hardly ever watch. And when I do, I obviously make crap choices.

Four places I have been on vacation:
1. Costa Rica
2. Yakumo Village, Japan
3. Playa del Carmen, Mexico
4. Mt. Rainier

Four of my favorite dishes:
1. Chicken Vindaloo so hot it will melt your tongue and a side of fresh, warm naan and a cold beer.
2. Really good homemade guacamole with lots of fresh lime and cilantro. And garlic.
3. Open-faced hot turkey sandwich with gravy and dressing and chunky cranberry chutney.
4. Spicy tuna rolls. Or, really, any sushi at all. Except not cuttlefish, so much.

Four websites I visit daily:
1. Delphi
2. Google
3. Gmail
4. ITIL.co.uk

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. Spain
2. Cafe Alpine in Breckenridge, CO drinking some really good with with The Weez
3. On the bar at Coyote Ugly in SA
4. Hanging out with AK, Ang, HG, Lauren, Lisa, Amber. . . all my girls. I miss you!

And I'm not tagging anyone, because I am obstinate.

"My powers are beyond your understanding!"

Okay, probably not. BUT! I just solved an issue that a) removed our final roadblock on the Very Visible Project and b) will allow us to drastically improve the friendliness of our user interface.

I'm so dorked-out right now that I actually have an adrenaline rush.

Cookie bouquet to anyone who can verify my dorkiness by identifying the 80s cartoon that I quoted in my title.

I think I just wet myself laughing.

Best journal round-up post EVER. Maybe best journal post of any kind, ever. Holy. Fuck.

Doxie's Anniversary Post