back to the nest

On Friday I said to my stepdad, ” What up playaaaaa?”

After repeating myself 3 times because he can’t ever hear me the first time, he finally responded with:

“What is that, Pig Latin?”

Awesome.

“No, I don’t think I have one of those…”

-my friend’s dad, after learning about what it means to be someone’s “beard”

As glad as I am that I came home to live, it was extremely hard leaving a lot of people that I really loved. So on Friday, I road tripped it to State College for a weekend with Sarah, one of my closest friends.  You’d think that living at home, I’d make the goal of a trip away a decidedly parent-free weekend.  Not so much.

Sarah lives at home with her folks (who are both fun and funny; see above) too, and her situation trumps mine in hilarity due to the fact that this home is located in a 55+ community.  It’s a pretty magical place, and I may have to consider convincing Patty and Dave to jump on that bandwagon.

Dr. and Mrs. H. rolled out the red carpet when they found out I was staying with them.  When I was still living in State College, they were always really awesome to me, and the weekend was no exception.  Wine when I walked in the door, all vegetarian meals (Mrs. H. makes a kick-ass mac and cheese), evening chauffeuring.  I’m really not that special.

Just yesterday I was thinking about how glad I am that my car has never given me any major problems since I got it in 2002, like not starting after I put the key in the ignition. I’m usually a big fan of irony, but not this time.

I go to head back to Newtown at noon today.  Car does not start.  I run back to the house and cry for help.  It is pouring rain.  We (and by “we” I mean mostly Dr. H.) jump the battery and the Rav comes back to life, but it is decided that I’ll be taking it to Firestone instead of the 150 miles home just yet.

Back at the old folks home, a plate of mac and cheese and cup of tea later, the Firestone car guy calls the house.  I’m told that my little Ravvy needs a brand new battery.  I am not told how much this new battery will cost.  In fact, I am straight up prohibited from paying for it myself, which I’m perfectly capable of doing.  Stop this madness!

All Dr. H did was make me promise to call AAA and check that my membership is still active.  I did.  It is.

From now on, I’m only visiting friends who live with their parents.  To the H. family, you are the most amazingly nice people ever.  Thank you for being that way.

Today was the day that I stopped being lame about running outside and started training for real.  I clearly picked the best day of the week weather-wise to decide to do this:

And it was a whole lot colder at 8am.  Trust me.

I know that the thing for running bloggers to do is mention what they’re eating. Before my run, I had some oatmeal.  The flavor on the box was supposed to be “Hazelnut Latte.”  The actual flavor of said oatmeal?  Popcorn.  Quaker Hazelnut Latte Oatmeal tastes like popcorn.  Stay far away if you can.

So who the heck is Hal Higdon?  No idea, but I sort of like his training method.  And Hal is really hot too.

This plan is for a novice.  I hardly consider myself a a novice when it comes to running (I’ve been a distance runner since high school), but I’m following a novice plan because I didn’t train the right way the first time, and figured I should take it slow, at least at first.

I did start the schedule up on Wednesday since I’ve been running indoors fairly regularly since the holidays.  I was planning on cheating and doing 3+ miles instead of the recommended 2, but being cold and a baby made sure that I just about hit the two-mile mark.  But all in all, it was a good run and I really have missed being outside.

Oh yeah, here’s Hal:

And speaking of old people, I’ve been saving this gem by the folks (specifically, the mamadukes) from when I first moved home in August for the perfect time, and I think today is it:

“Be careful running outside with headphones, because we read in the paper about a lady who was running with headphones and a tree fell on her and she died!  Just be careful!”

There may be a 1 in 17 billion (over/under) chance of that actually happening to me, but fine.  I’ll be careful and watch out for falling trees.

On Wednesday night I couldn’t sleep, so I went downstairs to the kitchen for some tea.  And good thing I did, because I found this:

(It’s a note.)

My parents love Duke basketball.  My mom loves Jon Scheyer, and would like him to be part of the fam.

Do you realize what this means?  She must be planning on adopting another kid and having HER marry him.  No doubt about it.  I’m getting a new sister!

Gaaaaah!

“What does the back of your shirt say?  ACDC?  What is that, a band?”

-My mom