White Christmas

It was a white Christmas here in Colorado.  I woke up on Christmas morning to about four inches of fresh powder.  I'm sure all the skiers and snowboarders were very happy boys and girls.  All it meant for me was a little bit of exercise from shoveling the drive and sidewalk.

Overall, this was a really lovely and low-key Christmas.  My dad, brother and J all had Sunday through Wednesday off so we ended up having a family sleepover.  Six people, five dogs, and one cat in one house for three days.  By the end, the animals had mostly settled down and all of the people were looking forward to sleeping in a bed (me, who slept on the couch, while my bro and cousin got the spare bedrooms) or their own beds (bro, J, and all dogs).

Lots of really good food was had, wine drank, walks and naps taken, and games played.  It was a Merry Christmas to all.

The Nutcracker.

As a little kid, I went to the Nutcracker every year.  However, after we left Wisconsin, I did not make it to the Nutcracker again for over 20 years.  A few years ago, my mom got tickets but a blizzard got in my way of returning in time.  This year, we tried again.  Again, the weather threatened but I was able to thread the needle and get to Colorado in time for both the Nutcracker and Christmas.

This year, my mom and I headed down to the Denver arts complex early.  The show was at a weird time -- 6:30 on Friday night.  We decided to go have drinks and apps at a bar in the area early and then go to the ballet.  Our plan was delightful.  We had a couple of glasses of bubbly and some delicious salads before heading to the theater.  While we were at the restaurant, we could not help but notice all these little girls in their Christmas dresses, with a happy mother and a less-than-thrilled looking father.  Mom and I were sitting at the bar when we heard an order for a double Makers Mark be placed by a server -- no doubt for a dad who was not looking forward to the ballet.  Mom joked with the bartender that she too was taking her little girl to the ballet.

The ballet itself was great.  It was funnier and fester than I remember -- but as festive as ever.  It was a great start to our Christmas festivities.

Second To Jesus.

Last night was our fourth annual Trump Girl Holiday Dinner.  Every year, it is a challenge to find a date that all six of us have available for dinner.  This time it took probably twenty emails and one re-scheduling.  But every year, it is also one of all of our favorite nights of the holiday season -- "second to Jesus," as LS was quick to correct.

I feel sorry for those around us at the restaurant but man, do we have a great time.  Six of us sitting at one of the best tables at NoMi, with it being months since we were all in the same place at the same time.  We started drinking bubbly at the bar and continued through dinner.  While we all ordered entrees, thanks to LS' ambassador status at NoMi, Chef Sean sent out a variety of side dishes and desserts.  Apparently, he was concerned about our level of carb intake because while we ordered cauliflower and beets, he sent us Yukon gold mash (O quickly changed its name to Butter as that seemed to reflect the dish better.  Don't get me wrong, it was delicious but less obviously potato than one would think.  Butter, though, that was obvious.), and two other forms of potato.  He was also kind enough to send out four desserts for the table, including an amazing Tahitian vanilla creme topped with cotton candy and a coffee chocolate cake.

In addition to fantastic food and drink, we had games to play.  LS had brought questions (e.g., what was your worst date? what two things are you bad at?) that we all drew from a bowl and had to answer.  It was surprisingly hilarious.  Our server played along, adding his own question to the mix (what dangerous thing have you not yet done but wish you had -- his answer was great white shark diving). I had brought my traditional contribution -- English holiday crackers -- and we all read our jokes and played the charades provided.

Three hours of fun, food and friends.  You cannot beat that.  Well, except for Jesus.

Wish Coming True.

Last year, I repeatedly said that I never wanted to celebrate my birthday in the cold again.  Which is kind of tough considering that I was born in February and live in Chicago.   But, my birthday wish is coming true!  For the first time in 15 years, I will be celebrating my birthday with my parents AND it will be somewhere warm.  I booked the flights today.  Making an otherwise kind of blah birthday, I now cannot wait for my birthday . . . on a beach!

Cuppy.

I was handed Bulls tickets for last Friday's game.  Unless I have an actual conflict, I will never say no to tickets to any sporting event.  What's not to love?  Athletics, hot dogs, time out diversions and free.99?  Sign me up.

This was a pre-season game so the United Center was not entirely full but for at least the first part of the game, the crowd was into it.  However, it pretty quickly became clear that the Bulls had this game easily in hand.  That was particularly obvious at the beginning of the fourth quarter when my favorite time-out diversion occurred.

Every game at the UC, you are handed a little packet of items that include coupons and other things.  Among them is "your" entrant in the various animated races that are shown on the score board.  My favorite -- and, I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in this -- is the Dunkin Donut race.

 There are three entrants: Biggie Bagel, Dashin' Donut and Cuppy Coffee.  No matter who I am actually given, I always cheer for Cuppy.

The crowd was way more into the Dunkin Donut's race than it was the game by the fourth quarter.  No real surprise considering that the Bulls were up by about 15 at that point.  But, it was pretty incredible how loud people got to cheer for animated cup of coffee to run around a track.

Cuppy came from behind on Friday to win the race.  With both the Bulls and Cuppy getting the win, I definitely felt like I got my (free) money's worth out of the game!

Acu-pup-ture.

Shelby has arthritis.  To try to alleviate some of the pain, my parents have been taking her to get acupuncture, among other things.  And, apparently, it really is working -- she has that happy doggy trot back when before you could tell it hurt her just to walk.

BUT, she looks like a porcupine attacked her:

She likes it though because she has someone there to hold her hand (paw), which she loves, and she gets pupsicles, or frozen baby food to lick so that she will hold still.

Running Mantra.

This about sums it up for me on my running pace:

Lord knows there is no way I'd ever lap anyone who is making any attempt to run.

Urban Assault.

Swag UAR t-shirt.  It's actually a pretty nice shirt!

Some months ago, M asked me if I wanted to do the Urban Assault race with her.  She has done it for the past three years and always talked about how much she loved it and how fun it was.  This year I got called up from the bench when her old partner subtly asked if she could switch partners to race with her girlfriend.  M did not have a problem with that.  In fact, when we signed up, she told me that they had come in fourth last year but that I was faster than her old partner so she fully intended to win this year.  No pressure.

Regardless, I was in. And, excited.  Unfortunately, as it turned out, I have been out of town and/or just not riding or working out that much for the past few weeks due to work.  But whatever, I was still in it to win it.  

We had a 7:45 strategy meeting at Starbucks before heading to the starting point.  Of course, we got slightly lost.  Not a great omen. 

Urban Assualt is a bike race sponsored by New Belgium (among others) that involves seven checkpoints around the city.  The first five they give you immediately.  Last Thursday, they gave us a clue in the form of a word search puzzle to the sixth checkpoint.  Once you arrive at the first mystery checkpoint, you are given a clue to the second.  At five of the checkpoints, you have to perform some obstacle (today, running around a baseball field to find numbers that tied to letters in a word jumble type thing, doing an obstacle course with highs and lows while balancing two balls on two poles horizontally between us, bouncing a tennis ball into a bucket with one person tossing and the second using a wooden cutout as a backboard, hiking a shoe (a la a football) and having your partner catch it with a net, and one person riding in a circle while holding a foam sword while the other tried to toss rings on it) and collect a bead.  Return without one of the beads and you get a ten HOUR penalty.  

The all-important beads.

So, we had a tentative route based on going to the mystery point first and working our way around.  Seemed simple enough.  Until we got on our bikes for the first sprint to the mystery checkpoint during which I thought I might die, or at least throw up.  Between having a slower bike (M rides a road bike, I have a hybrid) and just not working out much, I was not fully prepared for this. Once we got past the first checkpoint (at which, we just collected our bead and took a picture of the second mystery checkpoint to text to our friend, L, who agreed to be our phone-a-friend), things simmered down a bit.  We were still riding essentially all-out the entire time but it was not as big of a pack.  By the time we got to the sixth checkpoint, we were on our own more or less.

Parts of the roads were so bumpy and broken (actual gaping holes) that I wished I had a mountain bike.  As it was, I was about a block slower than M thanks to my slow-ass (and slow-ass bike).  However, that worked out just fine. She would arrive first, figure out the obstacle and check our route for where-to once completed.  I may have slowed her down but not hugely, for which I was thankful.

Our friend L figured out the mystery checkpoint for us and we realized it made sense for it to be our last checkpoint.  When we arrived to collect our bead, they told us we were the first of the women's teams through.  Yay!  So, we got to the finish, did our big wheel race to the end, strung our beads and ran to the finish.  At which point, they told us we weren't first.  Drat.

We killed some time -- both before prize time and until the truck with lost-and-found items returned -- with our free beers (yes, at 10:45 am).  They asked us what we normally drank when we were stumbling in our order.  We said prosecco and asked if they had any sparkling.  They didn't find that funny.

We also got out shirts silk-screened.  Neither of us had thought ahead to bring a second shirt so we were down to sports bras in the middle of Wrigleyville for a few minutes but it was worth it as the result was pretty cute and very race-appropriate.

Guess what we are wearing next year?

Around noon, they announced the winners and wouldn't you know, Team Lissy was in first place for the women's division.  The men's division beat us by 20 minutes -- they were 25 minutes faster than google maps anticipated, and that was without any obstacles! We've determined that we lost at least 10 minutes due to our poor performance on obstacles but they probably were just that much faster.  Regardless, we will take our W and resulting backpack prizes and come back to defend our title next year.  Our goal for next year is to just flat-out win the whole thing.  (Clearly not for the prize, which is as much beer as you are tall.)

If only I hadn't bought a backpack last week!

Like a G6 (or 900 Falcon).

Among the many things that do not suck in life: flying private.

Friday night was my first, and in all likelihood, last experience of flying on a private plane.  But, it definitely does not suck.

 I'm on record as saying that I like airports.  And, I do.  But, you know all the things that can be annoying or stressful about flying? They simply do not exist when you fly privately.  Traffic making you late?  Doesn't matter.  So long as you are with the person who owns (or, at least is paying for) the plane, it is not leaving without you no matter how late you are.  Security makes you take off shoes, belts, jackets and laptops (potentially allowing for the old switcheroo)?  No worries.  There is none of that.  You just drop off your luggage like a gate check and walk up the stairs on to the plane.

The aforementioned stairs up the plane.

Equipped eight leather captain's chairs and two couches, the plane could comfortably sit fourteen.  There were eight of us on the flight.  Before you ask, yes, there were snacks and drinks possible (bottles of wine, mini-bar sized liquor, and beer, along with water and sodas).  No, I did not partake beyond a water and a banana. These were my views for most of the ride:

Straight ahead into the pilot's world.

Can't beat that out the window.

A mere hour and a half later, we landed at Midway, ready to be whisked home via car service.  Mo' money, mo' problems, sure, but travelling isn't one.

Trying.

It is the eve of my first out of town trial.  And, so far, it has been a mix of the expected and unexpected.

Expected:

• Wilmington, Delaware is as scenic as ever for me.  And, by that I mean, I have stayed at the same hotel, walked across the same square, and sat in the same conference rooms that I have seen on every other (both) trip(s) I've made here;
• Long hours.  Average is a steady 14 hours per day so far this week;
• The partner I work with on this is as reasonable, efficient, pleasant and generally nice to be around as ever; and, 
• My health has suffered greatly.  I have not been working out (I got to the gym for exactly 20 minutes of cardio this morning and that has been a high for the week). There is a snack table that I have to walk by at least twenty times per day and I CANNOT NOT STOP at that snack table, even if it is just for a spark-in-the-dark lifesaver.  I'm mainlining sugar and caffeine.

Unexpected:

• Not so much a team spirit feeling.  Nary a go-team has been uttered (by anyone other than me at least);
• No fire drills (so far).  While the hours have been long, it hasn't been super stressful.  Just a lot to do but everything has been under control at least for the tasks for which my little team has been responsible; and,
• The catered meals have not included pizza.  Most people appreciate our host firm's efforts to think outside the group meal box but I'd much rather pull a slice out of the pizza box.

Wish us luck tomorrow and Friday.  GO TEAM!

Glamorama 2012.

I say it every year because it is true: Glamorama is one of my favorite events of the year.  Just the perfect mix of fashion, music, fancy, and party.

My only quibble with Glam is that it is always on a Friday.  Last year, M had to rush to make it thanks to work.  This year, I was the one rushing (although it was to make it to dinner more than Glam).  On the plus side, it never takes me very long to get ready for it -- throw on a dress, add some makeup, grab your ticket and you can be out the door in ten minutes.  It is not like a formal event where the hair takes forever.  

Prior to heading to the Harris Theater, we had dinner at Aria.  M and I wanted to go there since watching Top Chef's most recent season.  After a death-defying cab ride, we were thankful to be there.  Unfortunately, no one seemed even halfway as thankful to see us.  We had to flag our server down and express our need to leave within an hour.  The food was very tasty but the atmosphere was a little odd.  I chalk that up to its location in a hotel.

From dinner, we walked a block to the show and afterparty which were held at a new venue -- the Harris Theater.  The historical venue for the event is the Chicago Theater and the After Party on Macy's seventh floor.  I'm of mixed feelings about the change but overall, I think I prefer the old venues.  On the plus side for the new venue, everything was in one place.  There was no block-long mad dash to get the afterparty.  On the minus side, the new venue was smaller, which made it seem like you did everything you could possible do in one circuit around.  That said, it was still super fun.

Our annual picture provided by Patron:

L, me, K and M.  I have no idea why my head looks so small.

This year's new photo opp, the flipbook:

Out of the ORDinary.

For me, I have been travelling a lot lately.  I like to think I'm a good traveler -- packing is just a matter of grabbing my 3-1-1 ziplock bag, adding a suit and some workout clothes.  Everything else just lives in my suitcase and carry-on.  I like to think I'm fast through security (considering that I'm not pre-check -- I'm still slowed down by others in front of me).  And, I like the airport.  

I had a flight late this afternoon.  I left on the early side as I never know what the traffic is going to be like getting out to O'Hare and don't mind being early.  As a reward for my early bird status, I got selected for random extra security screening as I went through TSA screening.  That was no big deal -- just swabbing my hands and waiting for the results to come back clean.  But, in the three minutes it took for that to happen, when I got back to pick up my stuff, I realized my laptop was gone.  In its place was another Dell laptop but one that was obviously not mine.  Obvious, you ask?  Well, yes -- this laptop had a huge sticker on its top while mine does not.  So, obvious to me, less so to the person who took the wrong laptop.

It may not surprise you to learn that the TSA was not particularly helpful.  They first told me that this happened more often than you'd think but then had to conference among themselves three times on what they should do.  As they reviewed the security tapes to try to figure out who pulled the switcheroo, I was on the phone, waiting to get through to work to determine what the proper procedure was as it was my work laptop.  It seemed prudent while waiting to fill out a police report, which as it turns out is part of the proper procedure.  The Chicago police officer did not seem particularly interested, enthusiastic or optimistic about the whole thing but said she would take a walk through the terminal to see if she could find the unknowing culprit.

Since I was early, I decided to just sit and wait and see.  Incredibly, the CPD actually found the girl!  When she returned to security, she apologized immediately ("I'm so sorry, I'm sure this has been stressful for you") and handed over my laptop.  

I will not take this as a bad sign for the week ahead -- just out of the ordinary.

Left Turns.

Work has been extremely busy lately as we lead up to a trial in three weeks.  Even with that, there was no way I was going to say no when my friend KWW told me he was going to be in town to do the NASCAR race at Chicagoland Speedway in Joliet and asked if I would like to attend.  I can't call myself a NASCAR fan or even knowledgeable about the sport -- I think I can name, at most, 5 NASCAR drivers -- but the answer to that is always going to be yes.  And, because KWW would be working the race and not really able to hang out, I got M and K to go with me.

When K decided she would skip her brunch plans and come to NASCAR, she immediately burst into a chorus of Proud to be an American.  Honestly, we expected to hear it everywhere we turned once we arrived at the track.  In that, we were disappointed.  But we did have some stereotypes met, including: confederate flags; lots of beer; and, bad clothes:

Seen on two separate people, the assault rifle motif was popular, even more jarring to me considering the Aurora shootings not three days ago.

It was awesome.  Part state fair midway, part sporting event, part People of Walmart.  So much fun to be had between the planned diversions and people watching.

We suspected it was going to be great when we were starting our hike from our parking spot and flagged down a golf cart to ask where Will Call was.  The driver told us but said he couldn't give us a ride (before we even asked) because it was only for people with disabilities.  Out of sheer laziness, I told the man that I had rheumatoid arthritis.  For the first time, I'm happy to have it as we were told to climb on it.  K and I sat in the back while M had a fairly detailed conversation about twinkies and their history.

Our twinkie-loving driver dropped us off at the midway where we quickly obtained a margarita and a lot of free swag.  Sunglasses, hats, collapsible water bottles, bottle openers, koozies, fans, stress balls, crayons, pens, coloring books and more.

I refuse to heed the advice of the tire stress ball.

Yes, this is a bad picture with my nose looking even more broken than it is and the child-sized frames but they are cute right?  At least, the Geico gecko in the upper left corner is cute.

K would oblige me to point out that while it is a cute motif it is not a great insurance company -- go State Farm!

We started playing the various games and KWW was able to join us briefly.  The three of us got to take this picture.  Don't we make convincing mini-drivers?

In case the whole law thing doesn't work out for us.

Before entering the track, we got snacks.  For me, I had one of my favorite things: a hot dog at a sport event.  It was the oddest bun I've had (essentially a thick piece of bread with a slit down the middle) but still good.

Once we entered the track, we made our ascent to our seats.  The seats were awesome -- we could see everything -- but man, were they steep:

Section 121, Row 58, Seat 1.  It is a long way up (and down). NASCAR seats are not for the unfit.

KWW was able to join us for the prayer/pledge of allegiance/national anthem/fly-over and the beginning of the race.  He had warned us -- and even provided ear plugs -- that it was loud but it is hard to understand just how loud until you experience it:

This was coming off a caution about twenty-five laps in.  VROOM!  That's a lot of left turns.  My favorite part was watching the pit crews.  They are so impressive.

Cars lined up in front of pit row before the start.

We had to leave a bit early and apparently we missed the perfect race ending: two laps under a caution, two under white and the checkered flag.  Honestly though, even with missing the "perfect ending," it could not have been more fun.  AND, on the way home, I got to fill up on cheap suburbs gas and get a desperately-needed car wash.

By far, my best Sunday in a long, long time.  Thanks, KWW!

Preach.

I saw this on BuzzFeed today.  It was part of a promotional post by Political Animals ("9 Inspirational Quote from Independent Women Who  Kick Butt").  Normally, I avoid promoted posts but I'm a real sucker for some good quotes.  And, all I can say about this one is: PREACH.

 "Maybe what bothers me the most is that people say that Hillary is a bitch. Let me say something about that: Yeah, she is. And so am I and so is this one. (Points to Amy Poehler) Know what? Bitches get stuff done!"  

Beware of Sharp Objects.

As I was riding to the gym this morning, I thought back to a few months ago when I had my first ever flat.  I was thinking that while it had been quite an unfortunate and not inexpensive start to the week, that I just loved riding my bike and how much easier, cheaper and fun it is than driving.

And then, I heard a hissing.  I thought at first that I was just hearing things, maybe a sprinkler nearby or something but no, I was at commercial street corner with no sprinklers nearby.  So, I hopped off my bike and listened closer.  Sure enough, my bike was hissing.  Upon a close inspection, I found a small piece of glass stuck in the front tire.  And, of course, I still don't have the necessary components or confidence to be able to change a flat on my own.  So, I walked my bike back home, stuck it in my car and drove to the gym.

And then, I was getting dressed this morning after my spin class, I managed to stab myself in the neck with a pin I didn't realize was in my dress.

I'm hoping that this morning is not the start of a repeat of my bad week back in March that began with a flat. Instead, I have my fingers crossed that it is just a bad day for me and sharp objects.

Puppy Time!

I took advantage of last week's holiday lull to head back to Colorado to visit my family and get some puppy time.

My "puppy" is almost nine.  I had forgotten just how sharp those little puppy teeth are.  Just how funny puppies are when they get excited and tumble over themselves.  And, just how cute they are.

Chewing on something appropriate while trying to look innocent.

I thought Belle was great.  Unfortunately, Shelby does not yet agree.  I can't say I blame her -- she is bald in spots because of Belle's constant chewing (and Shelby is a well-trained dog who knows better than to bite another, even if the other dog is gnawing on her).  Similarly, Sam, one of my mom's cats, is none-too-pleased with Belle and her ongoing ambushes that result in pouncing, swatting, and hissing.  

Temporary pet detente between Shelby, Sam and Belle.

Belle is a smart little doglet.  Hopefully, sooner rather than later, she will decide she wants to pay attention when my parents try to train her so she is a smart, well-behaved little doglet.  My mom has trained plenty of dogs in her time.  But, I received "51 Puppy Tricks" as a puppy time present and shared it with my mom.  I'm pretty sure she will be teaching the new dog new tricks, including teaching Belle to ring a bell when she needs to go outside.  

One other thing that I forgot about puppies: just how fast they become dogs.  Not a week later since I saw her, my mom sent me this picture:

In part, it is the angle and perspective but I already think she looks more like a small dog than a puppy.  Pretty soon she will no longer fit in her favorite hiding place:

Chock Full of Cute.

Belle is now happily wreaking havoc at my parents' house.  She is adorable but apparently has quite a bold personality with very little fear.  She has already decided that whatever Shelby does is what she should do -- where she should sleep, lay, eat, play.  And, she also seems to think Shelby should pay attention to her all the time.

And, should Shelby ignore Belle, Belle is willing to make do and just turn Shelby herself into a chew toy.

My mom said that after filming this video she both rescued Shelby from those sharp little puppy teeth (even though Shelby apparently has no nerve endings in her tail and it didn't bother her) and rescued the puppy from herself as she was close to choking a bit on her mouthful of Shelby hair.

Wild and Crazy.

My Saturday night:

That's right, I colored.

I actually passed on going out to dinner and drinks in favor of staying home, doing some work and coloring.  And, I gave myself a blister sharpening all of my colored pencils.  Totally worth it.

Two-fer.

My mom is a funny woman.

She shares my sentiment that I've been working too hard lately.  Because she lives in Colorado there is not a lot that she can do to help.  However, she was not about to let distance stop her from trying.  She told me that I would receive two packages that would make me feel better but they had to be opened together.

The woman knows me well.  There are two things from being a kid that to this day I still like and find relaxing:  playing on the swings and coloring.  And, because my mom is never one to miss an opportunity, she made her present a two-fer:

Upside down but:
The Field Guide to  North American Wildflowers, an American Wildflowers coloring book and colored pencils!
Well played, mom, well played.

That's right, coloring and education.  I no longer can complain about her attempts to teach me about flowers.  Any failure from  here on out is totally my fault.

Goofy.

This entry is further proof of two things:

1.)  Shelby is a happy, goofy dog.  This is her at a scent class.  My mom had been taking her to agility classes for the past year or so but her arthritis put an end to that.  To keep her engaged, she started taking her to a scent class.  I was pretty certain it would be a stunning failure and she'd end up class dunce because this dog just does not seem to have a good sniffer. She can never find her ball in the grass or, even worse, food dropped on the ground for her.  But, as it turns out, she is the star of the class and from this picture, seems to love it.

2.)  I have nothing to talk about in my own life.  Not to complain but I have been working 10+ hours a day for over the past month.  I just don't have much I want to remember from my own life right now.  I did just book a flight in two weeks to go visit my family, Shelby, the new puppy and go see a YSL exhibit at the Denver art museum.

Puppy Cam.

I think it is a good barometer of a person if they do not like puppies or kittens.  Or, really, any baby, fuzzy animal.  I can understand that some people are scared of their grown version due to bad experiences or whatnot but the baby version is nothing but wriggly, fuzzy, goofy happiness. (However, in my estimation, it is totally rational and normal not to like snakes, baby or otherwise.)

Whenever I need a pick-me-up, I usually request that KWW send me a puppy picture, as he seems to have a stock pile of them.  Currently, I have something even better: the puppy cam is back!  For a couple years probably, somewhere on the west coast, the breeder of a shiba inu has streamed a webcam of puppies whenever they have a litter.  I believe this is their fourth.  I just love it.  Even now when the puppies are still so young their eyes aren't open yet and spend most of their time sleeping, they are super adorable.  I like to keep it on in the background, checking in for a dose of puppy goodness throughout the day.

Even better than the puppy cam, I learned that my parents are getting a puppy in two weeks.  They were trying to decide between adopting a grown dog or doing the work of raising a puppy.  I thought they had decided on grown dog but they zigged and will soon be the proud owners of a yellow lab puppy they have decided to name Belle.  For the past twenty years or so, every dog they have owned has been a B name: Buffy, Beau, Bart, and now Belle.  (I ruined their streak by giving them a Shelby, although I try to shoehorn her in by spelling her name Shel-B.)  Before they knew if they would end up with a male or female, they actually went online to look at baby names, picking Belle and Baron for potential names.  Now, they are puppy-planning and proofing their house, even though they know that labs are chewers and at least a couple things are going to get destroyed.  A totally worthwhile trade for the little ball of happiness Belle will be.  I told my parents that I was coming back to visit the dogs.  Not us?  No, the dogs.  I need some puppy time!

Flowered.

Today was M and my annual trip to Gethesmane Gardens.  In prior years, we have gone in the afternoon, when it was both hot and packed with people.  Of course, to make up for that, we always rewarded ourselves with a McDonald's ice cream cone.  This year, we decided to sacrifice the cone in favor of getting the worm instead.

Gethesmane does not officially open until 9:00 am.  Being early birds, we arrived at about 8:45 and there were already people in line checking out.  As our third trip, this time we had a better idea of what works for our little balconies.  For me, that meant one 40 quart bag of soil, and about three trays worth of both single and double impatiens and two other types of flowers that I've already forgotten their name.  (I always like to jokingly blame my mother for my flower ignorance -- since she knows flowers and I don't, I tell her she failed me as a mother.  In response, she sent me a flower guide last year.  Sadly, now I just have me to blame.  Although to be fair to me, she accidentally sent a tropical flower guide and say what you will about Chicago weather, it is not tropical.)

I love going to Gethesmane but I always get overwhelmed.  There are just so many pretty flowers.  We have learned that the best way to go is to pick a color theme and roll with it.  M went with white and coral.  I have a purple/pink/red/white thing going (which I recognize in writing it seems more like indecision than a theme).  Our cart was beautiful:

I like to think we gave other carts a complex.

I like everything about flower planting day except for carrying it all upstairs.  And, cleaning up my mess later as I always make a huge mess with the soil.  But, I think it is totally worth it:

Looky, there is a lake two blocks away.

It may be almost summer but it is also that fifth season: construction.

Plus, because I'm on the lowest floor, I feel an obligation of sorts to make my balcony pretty for the people walking by on the street.  Building pride and all for our red-headed stepchild of a building on an otherwise beautiful street.

"My" Dog.

I got Shelby when I was a third year in law school.  When I moved to Chicago and started working long hours, she made it clear that she was not a fan.  Despite going to doggy daycare every day, she ate my couch, she ate my clothes, she ate my rug.  After a lot of guilt and tears, I sent her to go live with in Colorado with my parents who were home more often and had another dog and two cats to keep her entertained.  It was a happy situation for everyone (at least once I got over missing my dog).

Hanging out on her "dog bed" with one of her cat friends.

While I call her my dog, she has lived with my parents for eight years now and is much more their dog than mine.  And, they love her and take great care of her.  They got her a kiddie pool so she go swimming and blow bubbles during the summer.  They take her to agility classes so she can play on the various pieces of equipment.    They let her turn their nice couch into a gigantic dog bed.

But, today I heard proof that she is definitely my dog.  There were factors before -- we both love the water, we both like hanging around upside down -- but today, I learned that much like me, she has arthritis and needs to shoot up regularly with an anti-inflammatory.  My mom had been worried about her but after she got the diagnosis, she laughed all the way home and how much that dog takes after me.

Arthritic dog needs the hot pad.

Goofy upside downward dog.

Aspen.

Gosh, I'm glad I didn't do a triathlon here.  That is STEEP.

After a long lull, I had some work travel this week: to Aspen.  In retrospect, almost all of my work travel has been to good places.  I've been to Singapore, NYC, San Fran and the Silicone Valley, and the OC among other places.  I think the "worst" place I have been is to Mankato, MN and even that was not awful.

Even though I lived in Colorado for four years and my immediate family is still there, I had never been to Aspen before. Not really a surprise you consider that I'm not a skier (or snowboarder) and Aspen is pretty much smack dab in the middle of the mountains, so a solid five or so hour drive from Boulder.  And another no-surprise statement: Aspen is a really lovely little town.  It looks like Hollywood's version of a quaint town, which in a lot of ways it is.

Since May is the mud season, Aspen was also pretty much a ghost town.  They did not get a lot of snow this year so the mountain shut down in early April.  Tourists will not start coming back until June for the Food & Wine Festival.  We were only there for one full day and spent most of that day in a conference room but I enjoyed it.  (I am pretty sure that the five lawyers involved in this deposition were the only people wearing suits, or even business casual, in the entire town.  We got A LOT of looks.) The town is cute and very walkable, the food was really good, the hotel was lovely (and so cheap thanks to being the off-season), and the surroundings were spectacular.  I even went running one morning.  It was a real insult to my ego that seems to think that because I did live in Colorado, I should still be acclimated.  Tell that to my lungs which strenuously objected to the 8,000 feet in elevation.

Bear-crow?  A lot of yards had these bear sculptures.  

The only negative to my trip was that it was weird to be in Colorado, especially at DIA, and not be going to see my family.  Unfortunately,

Napa.

After we left Lake Berryessa, it was time for the fun portion of our trip.  Enough with nature, bring on the wine!

Baby grapes.  One day, I might drink them!

First, we met my parents at our hotel in Napa, the Avia.  It was a really great property with beautiful rooms, fantastic location, and very helpful staff.  The concierge had set us up with therapeutic massages at a nearby spa.  After that, it was nap time until dinner.  We went to a place called the Rutherford Grill, which you could smell from down the road, and had a great dinner.  Because M and I never really adjusted to being on Pacific Time, we were in bed by 8:30.

On Monday, it was time for some wine touring.  My parents had arranged for a driver to take us to four vineyards.  It is a little tough to start tasting at 10:00 am but you gotta do what you gotta do.  Our first stop was Castello di Amorosa.

Castello di Amorosa -- moat and all, if you count pond scum as a moat.

It was completed only about five years ago by a man named Darryl.  We learned from our driver that once the castle was built, Darryl changed his name to Dario.  Unfortunately for him, he sounds like a Darryl and almost no one seems to want to call him Dario.  Everyone we talked to about it just laughed, shook their head, and concluded that he is an odd man.  You can conclude that on your own by realizing what an obsessive personality it must take to build your own replica castle with Italian-esque frescos.  We skipped the guided tour -- no need to hear about faux history -- and went straight to the tasting.  The wines there were overall delicious.

South tower of the castle, overlooking the vineyards

Family picture on the South Tower of the Castle

From there, we went to V. Sattui, which is another Darryl/Dario vineyard.  The tasting was much more crowded and less enjoyable but the grounds were fantastic with a deli on site.  Several people recommended that we have a picnic lunch there and that is just what we did.  Just beautiful . . . and delicious.

Because we were so efficient in our tastings, we had time to kill before the only scheduled tour we booked.  We ended up going to a place called Frank Family Vineyard where we did a tasting and then just enjoyed sitting out on their porch.

From there, it was on to Schramsberg.  This vineyard was the one that all of us were most anticipating -- it is a bubbly maker!  They store their wine in caves built into the mountain.  Wandering the caves was part of the tour as was a tasting in the caves.  Our tour guide was really great.  Interesting information and a very subtle saleswoman.  We bought everything she was selling -- including things she wasn't specifically trying to sell like her husband's restaurant (great little local chain of burger roadside diners called Gott's -- we liked it so much we went there for dinner and came back for breakfast) and therapeutic yoga -- including wine and a membership in their wine club.  For the next year at least, M and I will each being receiving four shipments of bubbles from the caves outside of Calistoga.

Bad picture of the tasting in the caves

On Tuesday, we considered driving over to the coast to a small national park called Point Reyes but I really just could not get in the car again.  This trip was the most I have driven in a very long time.  I don't put in this kind of mileage if you combine six months together normally.  Instead, we just strolled around downtown Napa, shopping, had lunch, did a wine and chocolate pairing at the place next door, got pedicures and read.  Just a very chill relaxing day.

On Wednesday, it was back to SFO and back to reality.

Triathlete.

Despite having no desire to go back to Lake Berryessa, we found ourselves there by 6:15 am on Sunday morning.  We were not trying to be there that early but as our third trip out there, we were much more efficient (read: I did not miss the turn for the first time) in our driving and packing.  After killing over an hour and a half, it was finally race time.

One of only three without a wetsuit and only girl in a bathing suit.

As you can see, I opted not to put on a wetsuit.  I've never swam in one and did not see why this morning should be my first time.  I figured even if the water was only 65, it should take me fifteen minutes to do my swim and that is manageable.  If anything, I thought it would motivate me to swim faster.  And, it was pretty true.  Per M, I was the fourth woman out of the water (of course, it helped that I self-seeded myself in the first wave.  I was the 25th person in the water).  I tried to sprint the last leg of the triangular course but my legs were pretty cold by then so it wasn't so much a sprint as just a bit faster.  Oh well.

From there, it was on to the bike.  

Just happy to have managed to clip in, 25 feet down, 15 miles to go.

My course was not nearly as long or as hilly as M's from the prior day but long enough and hilly enough to make me wonder how the hell she managed to do it.  Our rented bike had a speedometer on it.  I got up to 28 mph at one point -- easily the fastest and scariest I've ever gone on a bike.  All was good until the end when I had a bit of trouble unclipping and totally fell.  As it turns out, learning to ride a road bike on race weekend is not an ideal plan.  Live and learn. 

Ouch.  Road rash, two days later.

The run leg was never going to be my best leg and that was particularly true with my road rash but I did finish the course.  My first official full triathlon.

Can we please get the hell out of here now?

 And, I don't think it will be my last.  If at first you don't succeed (and I don't think I can call it a total success given the scab on my leg), tri tri again, right?