What a day!

My day started at 5:50 this morning, when I amazingly pulled myself out of bed. I know. It's Saturday AND that's two hours earlier than I woke up for work this past week (the earliest I woke up this week was 7:30 and that was honestly only because my new bed was supposed to be delivered between 8:30 and 12:30 that day). But I was talked into hiking Camelback Mtn for the first time ever and being a competitive soul, I couldn't back down.

Fourteen hours later, after having accomplished that feat, I've decided that I'm pretty sure I could teach a crash course in all of the wrong things to do while hiking. For instance, trying out your new joke (you know, the one that probably only you will think is funny) is not a good idea while climbing down the rocky part that's as slippery as ice with virtually no hand-holds (not sure if that's a valid term, but it fits in well so I think I'll use it). Not only was I the only one who heard the joke (apparently people had other things to concentrate on), but I was the only one who laughed. Somehow that resulted in me crossing my feet over each other, getting one temporarily stuck in a crevice, and almost tripping myself. Also, when using the handrails on the rocky part, do try to use as much leg power as possible. I'm pretty sure I pulled something in my arm and for that to happen while hiking is just plain embarrassing. Last, but not least, make sure that on the descent, you're the last one in your group. That way, your pals can't laugh at you when you slip on that stray patch of gravel and end up sliding sort of on your butt, "butt" mostly in a squatting position, for approximately 4 feet. My hands acted as damage control -- no idea how I didn't break any skin.

The good news about the hike is that it is far more manageable than I presumed it to be. Maybe it was the rest stops every 20 feet, or maybe it was the 3 gallons of water I was carrying on my back... but I lived to tell about it and will definitely be going back. Plus, I think I lost at least an inch off of each of my thighs and an inch off my waistline. According to my calculations, I should be down 4 dress sizes by the end of October.

After the hike and quick bite to eat, Jen and I showered up to head down to Tempe for the ASU football game. It did not even cross my mind that sunscreen would be a good idea in an outdoor stadium in 100-degree weather. That is, until I found out that our seats would be directly in the sun. Needless to say, I may have suffered the 4th all-time worst sunburn. Some of you (Renee, Tom, and Kyle in particular) may remember the September 2006 sunburn from the outing in the right field bleachers at Wrigley Field. That took 3rd place. First and second places are a toss-up between the July 2003 Florida burn (remember those pictures, Rousey?) and the [approximately] June 2000 Arizona burn (the one where the 2.5 hour plane ride home the next day felt like the longest day of my life). So anyway, tomorrow I will know exactly how bad this sunburn is. Nothing hurts...yet. However, I have some major tank top "tan" lines and my nose is a suspicious shade of red. Yuck.

By the time the game ended (ha, we left after the 3rd quarter because ASU was playing horribly), I was sooooooooo ready for a nap. (Call me a 3-year-old, but sometimes I just need my afternoon nap.) But nope, it was time to head to the west Valley for a potluck (which, I've been told several times today, is something that only old people do after church...au contraire, mes amis!) Good times were had and all I can say is... You know it's a successful potluck when you end up bringing home more than you initially brought. Tonight I spent $3.58 on garlic bread and came home with a tuxedo truffle cake, strawberries and cool whip (hehe), and two 2-liters of soda. Now that is what I consider a job well done on my part. It almost makes up for the sunburn. NOT.

And with that, I'm off to bed. No part of my body is going to appreciate the 7:11 am alarm that I will hopefully not forget to set before I hop (yes, literally) into bed.

Good nighty, sleep tighty!!!

New bed

Yesterday morning I officially upgraded my bed from full size to queen size (my new favorite furniture store in the Valley is the RoomStore). The most significant difference is that I feel like the bed is huge. I used to sleep diagonally in my full size bed. Now I can sleep any direction and not be hanging off the edge. (Although I prefer to sleep with my feet hanging off the edge sometimes, so I guess I will just have to adjust.) This new bed huge-ness leads me to believe that my bed can comfortably sleep 4 people. (Anyone who wants to help me test that theory...lemme know...) In addition, the four pillows I currently use on my bed are not going to be nearly enough with all the extra space.

So yesterday afternoon as I was working from home, like a kid in a candy shop, I excitedly washed my new bed linens and put them on the bed (wait a second, what does a kid in a candy shop care about new bed linens??). Then I washed the new duvet I purchased last weekend, stuffed the new down comforter inside and threw it on the bed. I now have a problem. I have two beds with two duvets that I like. I can't decide which one to officially put in my bedroom and which one to put on the guest bedroom bed. One is green (and cost me $200) and the other is red (only cost $100). The green one is the one I had been dreaming about for so many years, but...I do have a thing for red, too. It's a toss-up.

The first night in the new bed was great! Although I see another problem. Normally it takes me about an hour after the alarm goes off before I consider myself fully coherent and having the "yeah, I should really get ready for work" mindset. This morning it took me TWO HOURS to get out of bed. Not good.

Last but not least... the new bed is a lot higher off the ground than the old bed. I have been hopping up into it. Not sure how necessary that is, but it makes me giggle when I do it, so I'll continue doing it. And only because my other option would be to make a running start at the bed and we all know I would manage to trip somewhere along that path...

Fall is here.

It's late September. The leaves in MN are turning color, some of them are probably starting to fall, and families are making or will soon be making visits to the local apple orchards. Football is on all weekend and baseball playoffs are fast approaching. Yep, fall has arrived and so should have the cool, crisp air and smell of wood-burning fireplaces. But nope. I'm in the dry desert of Phoenix and the concept of autumn here is drastically different than what my 26 years of living in MN thinks it should be.

The other night I wanted to wear a hooded sweatshirt to a high school football game. It just seemed like the normal thing to do. I'm glad I decided against it because I ended up sweating in just my little tee as it was. (Although I kept a zip-up sweatshirt in the car just in case the winds shifted. Ok, I'll be honest, I just laughed out loud because the weather doesn't really change like that around here. And there's definitely no body of water like Lake Superior that could possibly cause anything lake-effect related.)

Also, I'm a big fan of PJ pants. I have my favorite pairs of flannel pants (especially the cowprint ones that my lil bro's wife made me for Christmas a few years ago) and I attempted to wear one pair to bed last night. I made sure the air conditioning was going strong so I wouldn't sweat to death, but I didn't even get the down comforter pulled up all the way before I was out of bed, stomping to the closet to find an outfit that would allow me to sleep through the night and not wake up soaked with sweat.

It's frustrating. Every part of my body believes that it's time to break out the sweaters and hoodies and verify that the winter boots, mittens, scarves, hats, and jackets are in working order. Something tells me I should have left all that stuff in MN for my winter visits.

I guess I'm just going to have to roadtrip to Flagstaff one weekend per month to get my fix of sub-80 degree weather.

Parking dilemma

Due to construction around my work facility, various parking lots have been closed, re-opened, closed again, re-opened again, etc. It didn't really affect me until this past Monday, when I arrived at work to find that "my" lot is now closed. It wasn't exactly the closest one to the building but I liked parking there because it didn't require me walking around the building in the creepiness that is the "after-hours." And besides, to park in any of the closer lots would have required me arriving at work before 8:00 am. Not always possible. I have no good reason as to why that's usually not possible, but it is attributable to my late bedtime and comfortable bed. Back to the story...

I arrived at work on Monday at 10 am. (You don't have to ask. I'll tell you. I had a disagreement with my alarm clock -- apparently no one told it that I had just returned from Vegas late the night before.) My lot was closed, so I drove to the "creepy" lot. It was full. I drove around to the back of the building. Open spots, but I had no clue where a building entrance was and I wasn't too anxious to find out. Continued driving around the building and reached the front. Nothing directly in front of the building. Duh. It's 10:05. No one who got there at 7 am has any reason to be leaving their parking space at 10:05 am. I did manage to find a spot in the newly reopened parking lot on the south side (a long way from the front door and an even longer walk through the building to my office area). This whole adventure added another 10 minutes to already atrociously late arrival. (And then when I passed about 13 gabillion empty parking spaces in the front designated as "Medical," that just about put the icing on the cake. I mean, seriously, could there really be that many people at one time with medical issues??)

These are my conclusions:

1) To get a primo parking spot, I should arrive at 11 pm the night before work actually starts.

2) Suddenly, the idea of breaking a leg doesn't sound like such a bad idea...

Subway's the place...

You know what's painful about people over the age of 50 in line ahead of you at Subway? Everything.

This woman had no clue what was being asked of her. "Ma'am, was that a 6-inch or a footlong?"

"Yes, wheat please."

Dressing rooms

Last night I went to Kohls and grabbed 4 shirts to try on. After I closed the fitting room door, the first thing I did was kick off my shoes.

Go figure.

I am messy.

It's a good thing I don't have people over to eat very often. I'm a messy eater in general and when I'm in the comfort of my own home, by myself, I'm at my "finest." The other night, as I was eating a salad, I managed (in one bite) to get salad dressing on my cheekbone and on my chin.

Chicken Pot Pie

I seem to have the ability to turn almost any trivial activity or matter into something ridiculous. For instance, last week I made chicken pot pie for dinner. This is quite possibly the simplest recipe ever, so there was no reason for it to turn into such a big production. I started mixing the cream of chicken soup, vegetables, and chicken in the wrong size corningware dish. So then I transferred it to the larger one, but in the process, I managed to fling a spatula-full of mixture all over my cupboards, counter, and even the wall. Once I finally put the meal in the oven, I thought I was good to go. Until the timer on the microwave went off. I checked on the pot pie and decided it needed to stay in a few more minutes. The problem was that I didn't reset the timer because I figured I could remember to check on it. I have no idea why I repeatedly tell myself that I won't forget, because let's face it, I will forget. Needless to say, as I was tending to my myspace addiction, I forgot about the pot pie. Fortunately, nothing burned. Except for me. While I was taking the pot pie out of the oven, I burned my forearm just above the elbow (who manages that??) because I bumped it on the oven door. I refused to run cold water over it because I decided that dealing with the burn would be my punishment for being so stupid. And one week later, I'm still nursing my now-scabbed wound.

Wow.

Football's back!!!

Female sports reporters should be illegal. The concept alone is atrocious.