oh yeah, the other dog

Do you remember when I made such a big deal about getting our first dog Gabby's DNA results?

Then we got another pup and like most "second children," she never got quite the same level of attention as the first. Well we did do a DNA test for dog #2 (Jazz) but I never posted the results. Until now... [dramatic music swells]...

So she's basically a certified mutt. I feel that these inconclusive DNA results further prove my thesis that she is, in fact, a coydog. Pay no attention to the domesticated patriotic lei she's wearing in this photo—don't let it distract you from her clear coyote similarities.

 

new ways to sweat (1 of 5)

You know those people who make waaaaay too many New Year's resolutions and then have a hard time keeping them? Yeah, I'm one of them. But if I blog about my resolutions... will I feel more responsible for following through? It's worth a shot.

One of these resolutions is to try at least 5 different workouts that are out of my comfort zone.


First up: BODYPUMP
I saw a poster at the gym for a class called BODYPUMP and decided I would go. I knew very little about it, other than it had something to do with weights.

The most awkward part about attending a class for the first time is the set-up—those first 5 minutes when everyone is buzzing around the room collecting their gear and you're scanning the room to gather intel. She has four blocks. I go get four blocks. He has two dumbbells. I go get two two dumbbells.

I should've known I was in trouble when Irina, the short but super-fit instructor with a slight-Schwarzenegger accent, walked in the room and yelled, "Are you ready to pump, BODYPUMPERS?" 

1 hour and 800 repetitions later... did you read that? 800 REPS. In ONE HOUR. CAPITAL LETTERS are here to EMPHASIZE THE PAIN. Here's my review:

And while I'd be much too embarrassed to show you what I looked like during this class, here's a little YouTube promo video to give you an idea. Bet you wouldn't have guessed it, but my weights weren't as big as this guys'...


Stay tuned for the next challenge: BODYATTACK

alter ego

Is it weird that I look forward to (eventually) having less-than-perfect eyesight so I can geek out in glasses? I've been waiting since 4th grade, when American Girl Molly McIntire was my hero. I mean, the way she played capture the flag like a bad-ass and rocked those glasses. And the beret? Oh, the beret! She was fab.

In the meantime though, I bought these... zero prescription glasses. Just because I like them, and yes I know it's ridiculous. But LeBron James and Dwayne Wade do it. So what if I'm not an African-American male who makes millions in the NBA? What's your point?

I'm just practicing. Just prepping to embrace my future self.

pup + harmonica

What a weird month it's been. Until I have the stamina to write it all down, I'll just post a cute video instead. Sorry?

taylor vs. taylor

Now, really, how is a girl supposed to choose between these two? 

Taylor Kitsch, of Friday Night Lights fame

Taylor Lautner, werewolf extraordinaire from Twilight

effie trinket toes

You know how I get. It's hard for me to like things only a little bit. I have a proclivity for slight obsessions (obviously).

Like half of America right now, I'm all wrapped up in The Hunger Games. Want to have a 20 minute discussion about the discrepancies between the book and the movie? Call me. Want to debate Team Gale and Team Peeta? Or dissect Katniss' outfits—and those fabulous tiny feather eyelashes she wears at the end? Really, call me.

So after I saw the movie for a second time (with little brother Biggie) and we found ourselves at the nail salon, I was drawn to this outrageous color. It just screams Effie Trinket, don't you think? 

sugar and spice and everything nice

That's what little girls are made of, right?

I just realized that all I've blogged about for the past few months is football, cars, and guns. Not. very. girly. I'll attempt to balance it out. 

Meet Patricia (the one in the purple bucket). Her mom Nyang Nyang has been one of my English students for the past year. 

I have such a baby crush on Patricia. Every time I see her, I just want to scoop her up. I should add that this doesn't indicate any secret wish for a baby of my own (sorry Mom). But this little girl is so damn precious.

A few Sundays ago at Kroger, I ran into these two. They were trying to find the items on their assistance check—and as you can imagine, this is fairly difficult when you barely speak/read English—so my intended quick in-and-out trip became an hour of pacing the aisles with them trying to find all the right things. 

A bit of a detour, but so worthwhile. Especially to see little Patricia smile. Awww. Estrogen levels back to normal yet?
   

do you believe in love at first sight?

I wasn't sure that I did. Until yesterday, when I saw this beauty cruising down College Ave.


I'm not a "car person," but I've been on the lookout for a new one for a few months. I've seen a few different kinds that I liked. But I had this feeling that when I saw it—the car that was destined to be my next—I would just know. And that's the feeling I had yesterday when I spotted the Audi S5 Coupe.


Alas, this love story has an abrupt and unhappy ending. I was so excited that I'd found "my car," until I came home, searched the web, and found out how much it costs. 


Goodbye, Lover. Maybe we'll meet again in 20 or 30 years.

you know you're getting older when...

This song comes on the radio, gets turned all the way up, and you're thinking they just don't make music like they used to. Check out the hair at :37.

real google reviews

Please read post number two below, a review of the Wendy's in downtown Indy. Can't make this shit up...

tebowie

Just one more reason to love Jimmy Fallon. 

home alone

Ryan's on vacation in Hilton Head, so my self-imposed weekend challenge was to be the man of the house. This consisted of:

1. Mowing the yard
2. Fixing the storm door
3. Investigating the ceiling leak in the basement...all without the aid of Boyfriend, Dad or Brothers.

Part 1. After successfully mowing the backyard, I get a little cocky. That was so easy it was actually fun! Then I maneuver to the front, where I proceed to sweat on and swear at that ancient piece of crap for 30 minutes, pulling the cord until I thought my shoulder was dislocated. I cheat and call Dad."Maybe you knocked the blade out of alignment when you hit that dirt mound." Maybe I did. "Try hitting it back in place with a 2x4."

Just my luck that it worked fine in the backyard, where no one could see me. But out here — with everyone in Broad Ripple driving by — I'm a red-faced skinny girl whacking an old mower with spare lumber. Then my neighbor Jerry walks over. The mower was a hand-me-down from him, so he feels responsible when anything goes wrong with it (which happens often). Jerry is about 70; I often hear him yelling at his dogs to shut up. Today he's got duct tape wrapped around one shoe and a huge hole ripped in his shirt.

Jerry: "Did you check the gas?"
Me: Pause. "If it just needs gas, I'm going to feel really stupid."
Jerry: Unscrews gas cap. "Guess you're stupid."
Part 2. "Fixing" the storm door turned out to be damn near impossible, so I settled for removing the problem. Took the door off its hinges and only then did I realize it weighed enough to crush me. But I managed a precarious method of "walking" the door down the driveway, rocking the weight back and forth and using the bottom corners like pivot points.




Part 3. I don't even want to tell you about the basement ceiling. I attempted to poke a "small hole" to help the water drain. I made it worse. Points for trying?