Maid To Order

Today L and I scrubbed the kitchen down from top to bottom and it is now nothing short of sparkling clean.

Every dish was washed and cabinet wiped clean, as was the awful memories and disgusted feelings I've felt ever since the creature entered our house.

I feel so much better now that I have a clean, functional kitchen I can use again...I'm not sure L nor I could have handled another meal out.

L and I are ready to cook up a storm. The menu this weeks includes a pork loin, cheesy italian bake, chili, and chicken cordon bleu casserole. Hooray for home cooked meals....and a sparkling clean kitchen!

Ding Dong The Mouse Is Dead

I've been so frustrated this week as the genius creature who invaded our house was not outsmarted by our traps. After the first traps we set didn't do the trick, we went out and bought those sticky ones. Those sticky traps are crap! The mouse had gotten onto one of the sticky ones, but also ate its way off. When L and I discovered that yesterday morning, I started crying. I think out of tiredness and frustration, the tears just started flowing as I called my dad to ask for more advice. I also think I was even more grossed out that the mouse could do such a thing.

LW, once again, stepped up and came over again last night with new traps. He set them, placed them around the pantry and basement, and tried to convince me that last night was THE night. Skippy chunky peanut butter would be that mouse's last supper.

So this morning, L knocked on my door around 7:30 to deliver the good news. "It's gone!" Can I just say that I couldn't ask for a better roommate?!? L has been more than a good friend throughout this week - she let me wake her up at the butt crack of dawn every day this week, she let me hide behind her as "we" (she) checked the traps, she didn't mock me as I cried yesterday, AND she discovered and disposed of the mouse all on her own this morning and only woke me up to tell me it was over! What a trooper!

I've always said I've been scared of mice and that I wouldn't know what to do if one ever entered my house. But this past week gave me a whole new insight on just how intense my phobia is. I avoided being home alone, lost sleep over it, and cried over it. I hid behind L like a coward every morning as we checked the traps. It has been a silly and sick reminder, but a reminder indeed, of how lucky I am to have such strong and supportive friends and family in my life. My parents let me cry to them, my co-workers gave me advice and offered to help, LW took time out of TWO of his evenings to help, and L stayed strong even though she was just as creeped out as me.

You may have won a couple battles mouse, but the ladies of 187 won the war!

Introducing My Arch-Nemesis...

There's an effing mouse in our effing house...I'm a pissed off poet (and I DO know it.)

There are several things that will push me over the edge into surpassing the annoying girlie-girl act, and one of them is mice...bugs aren't necessarily my forte, and admittedly, I will be the first to generously give someone else a chance at being an insect killer, but given the circumstance when I'm alone, I've been known to kick some bug ass. But mice, I've been so lucky to learn over the past day and a half, is a completely different story.

When I saw exhibit A, a mini reese's peanut butter cup, laying unwrapped on the kitchen floor Monday morning, I had my suspicions. Then, I opened the pantry door and *dun dun duunnnn* found little remnants of the foil wrapper on one of the shelves. I did not scream, however my heart started pounding a little faster and my body immediately started shivering, as if that would shake the disgusted-ness off me when my fears of a rodent in my house came to life.

I ran back upstairs and broke the news to L, who was just as creeped out as I was. Given that I was already running late, I knew I couldn't do anything about it until after work. All day I tried to distract myself from thinking about what the disgusting little vermin was doing at my house. How dare he let himself in uninvited, partying it up in the pantry, making a mess - newsflash you little a-hole - you aren't wanted!!

After breaking down my I-don't-like-to-depend-on-my-friends-for-help wall, I recruited the help of LW. He informed me he has had some experience in this area and he so kindly agreed to help a girl out. As we walked down the inspect repellent aisle at Target, I started to get the creeps and caught myself standing as far away from the shelf as possible. The thought of even having to purchase a mouse trap gives me the creeps. LW even set the traps and put them in strategically placed areas. Then it turned into a waiting game. I was hoping shortly after we finished our pizza that we would hear a SNAP, signaling my nightmare was coming to a close (and more importantly that LW would be given the chance to be the hero and would be there to clean up the aftermath) but no such luck was ours. Regardless, I was thankful for LW's help and support - he's such a good friend, and in my eyes, still a hero.

L and I had to go to bed with the unsettling feeling of a mouse roaming the house as we slept (or tried to sleep, as in my case) It was a rough night and was both relieved and scared as hell to face the morning.

Luckily I have the best roommate in the world, God bless her, and she let me wake her up at 5:30 this morning so I wouldn't have to face what we were hoping would be a dead mouse carcass alone. We slowly crept down the stairs and turned on the lights. First trap, no mouse...but wait a minute...the little effer got the peanut butter off without setting off the trap....a-hole. I didn't know we were dealing with such a sly, cunning creature until that moment. But there's still hope...we ever so cautiously opened the pantry door to check two more traps we set in there...wait, actually L so cautiously opened the door, while my pansy-ass was hiding behind her....and.....nothing. Eff. Okay, last hope, the trap we put downstairs. You know the routine by now, we slowly crept down the stairs, turned the corner and........trap found, without mouse, and without peanut butter again. What a gluttonous bastard.

So once again, I had to go to work, leaving the mouse to do whatever he damned well pleased. Once I got off of work and L and I drowned in our sorrows over steak and Bud Light at Outback, we took the advice my dad, and bought sticky traps. We have put more peanut butter on the traps we got from the night before and then surrounded those with the sticky ones. Now, I'm hoping this will do the trick, but am also more than afraid to go downstairs tomorrow morning. Once again, L said that she would step up. Actually I think her exact words were, "If we were lesbians, I'd be the butch one, huh?" To which I politely nodded.

To you, my arch-nemesis, say your last words you sick son-of-a-B, you are wanted, dead or alive. (preferably out of my sight and house where I never have to see, hear, or deal with you or any of your 'lil friends ever again.) This is war!

5k Completed

It was up and at 'em this morning - race day had arrived. It was my first race in probably close to a year and half! My excuse is I haven't had a running cohort to race with. Part of my enjoyment on race day comes from having a running partner(s) I can run with. Needless to say, I was so utterly excited when L finally agreed to run a 5k with me. Enter the 5k of the IMT Des Moines Marathon.

It was a pretty cold morning and based on the snapshots that were taken of me, waking up at 6:15 to run in cold weather doesn't bode well with me (you can check out a few photos from L's camera), but it was so fun to be out there running with all the other athletes of the day.

L and I stuck together throughout the whole 3.1 miles and we finished with a strong time of around 28:00. I was so proud of L - she improved lots from the 11 minute mile she started out running!

I've got race fever again and look forward to participating in more, including for the first time, the Dam to Dam. L, I'm holding you to your agreement of doing this one too! :)

A "Perfect" Question

I pose a question to you this evening:

Do you believe that there is one perfect person out there for you?

I guess I like the idea of that one perfect person. It's certainly a romantic thought....going on life's journey and finding that one person with whom you are meant to be with. Some may be lucky and find it right away, and others *sigh* have to be a little more patient. Do you think how you find that someone is in your own control or does some force from above act as your tour guide and lead you to that person?

Although I like the idea of the one, I can't help but think that it's possible that there is more than one person out there for you. Although a romantic thought, it's also kind of depressing and scary to think that the possibility exists of only one person out there that's meant to be with you. Does the possibility exist of never finding that someone? Thinking in terms of the WCS (worst-case scenario), what if you did, indeed, find that 'perfect' person and then one day he/she dies? Does that mean there is no possibility of finding another 'perfect' person? Or, in the event that you do meet someone else, what do you consider that person? Is he/she your 'perfect' too or are you settling - you'd rather be with someone than be alone? OR - was the person you thought was your 'perfect' one really not at all?

In the case of the latter, can you justify this side of the argument by saying it's all in the timing? Isn't it possible to meet someone who could be 'your perfect', however that person is involved with someone else at the time? Or maybe it's because you just got out of a serious relationship and aren't ready to jump into another one? There are a million different scenarios that could account for you not ending up with a particular person, which doesn't necessarily mean he/she wasn't right for you.

But to this you could rebuttal and say that this argument we call "timing" is really just our 'tour guide' leading us through our journey, and all those "scenarios" are the directions we are unconsciously following, which lead us to our 'perfect' person.

I haven't quite decided what my take on this topic is...but it's certainly an interesting one to consider and discuss.

A Weekend of W's

A quick Weekend recap:

What the hell are we thinking Friday: Black Leotard - $16, tights - $6.50, attempting to pull off the look of the Single Ladies on Halloween - priceless?? I'll let you know how it goes.

Winning Saturday: I had some friends over for the Iowa game Saturday night. We cheered the Hawks on over tacos and a few cervezas. I couldn't think of a better way to spend a Saturday than being surrounded by my sister, good friends, and a Hawkeye victory!

Wicked Sunday: After indulging in Granite City's Sunday brunch, my sister, brother-in-law, L, and I headed downtown for an afternoon at the theater to see Wicked. It was fantastic! There were some powerful scenes that brought out some emotion. The music was simply delightful and the singers just blew me away. It was a great way to wrap up the weekend.

A Footing Observation

Have you ever noticed that sometimes when guys are telling a story to someone and they are really into it, they do the one-foot-on-the-chair thing? See examples below:







Pop Quiz: Why does this happen? Is it male instinct? Is there some sort of signal from the brain that tells you "it's time to put your foot on the chair"?

From my observations, it's not all guys. It actually seems to take a certain type of guy to do this...most often it's your typical Abercrombie-powdered-pink-popped-collared-pukka-shell-wearing-db.



*Let me go on record and say that it's not always the db...sometimes it's your average Joe. *

In the case of the db, usually he's talking about his game-winning basket in his 'glory days.' Just when he gets to the part about how there were 2 seconds left on the clock - BAM - one foot is so eloquently placed on a chair.

What appears to be another fitting time for the one-foot-on-the-chair thing - the office. Whether it's in a meeting or someone stops by your desk with a question or simply just to chat, it seems to happen. One minute, you're talking about the new work comp procedure and the next thing you know, you are telling stories from when you were a bat boy for the local baseball team - and on cue, one-foot-on-the-chair ensues.

Another appropriate time, you ask? Hitting on a girl. Girls, this is a great 'he's a db' detector. If it isn't the overly strong aroma of his Acqua Di Gio cologne that clues you in, just wait for the one-foot-on-the-chair maneuver.

Now, with all that said, I don't really have a problem with guys doing this. It's just strikes me as being funny. So one-foot-on-the-chair away boys! I'm always up for a good chuckle.