Chuck Norris Has Got Nothin' On Me

It occurred to me over the weekend that at this time last year I was handing in my final Master's Degree project and putting the finishing touches on my half marathon training. My half birthday was last week, which means I turned thirty more than six months ago. And I started to feel a little down on myself. I mean, I basically went all Chuck Norris on the last year of my twenties, what with finishing my degree and running two half marathons (and obviously a ton of other cool stuff that I can't seem to remember right now). Since then, though, it's been kind of a random assortment of crafting and baking (thank you, Pinterest) and just sort of living life - all in a really great, non-martial-artsy kind of way.

But just as I began to think that thirty had gotten the best of me, I remembered that I'm doing something that even that silly Chuck Norris couldn't, that my thirtieth year (Or is it my thirty-first? That math is confusing...) is going to blow most others out of the water because of one small (well, about the size of an apple right now) reason.

The Arends clan will become a family of four in early October - and this little girl will  be a big sister!

So while it's true I haven't been logging the miles on the treadmill (thank you very much, morning all-day sickness) or writing any thesis papers, I suppose I can cut myself a little slack. There is a tiny person growing inside me, after all.

Even Chuck Norris has to take a break sometimes, right?

Time to Make the Donuts

Fall is in the air, people. I know this for several reasons, the main ones being that the calendar told me that my favorite season has officially started, and the fact that my mind has been consumed with thoughts of cider, cider mill donuts, anything pumpkin, more cider mill donuts, and Halloween costumes for Anna. Oh yes, and cider mill donuts.

Also, adventures to the apple orchard.

And baseball games.

In less exciting fall news, it seems as though my body has realized it is about to turn thirty (Ahhh! Less than a month!!) and decided to start acting like a little punk. With a little under three weeks until the Detroit Half Marathon, I have a pesky IT band injury to deal with. I have been spending lots of quality time with my foam roller, and getting some extra help from a physical therapist, and hoping that come race day all those donuts I've been eating will provide the extra oomphf I'll need to cross the finish line. Because donuts are an essential part of all training programs, right?

What is your favorite thing about fall?

Okay...off to bake some pumpkin bread!
Happy Monday!

Do You Take One Space or Two?

I like to fancy myself as hip to the times, even though some people might disagree.  I have a smartphone.  I use Twitter.  Heck, I read Us Weekly, so you know I am in the know when it comes to all the stuff that truly matters.  Or so I thought...

I came across this article and it shook me to the core.  Because it turns out that perhaps some of my habits are a little antiquated, and I was none the wiser.  Basically, this story is about what an old fuddy duddy you are if you put two spaces between sentences instead of one.  Um, what?  Here I've been, happily hitting the space bar two times after every sentence,  when the rest of the modern world was lazily only doing it once and laughing at me for being so out of the loop.  I guess those Us Weeklys aren't as educational as I thought.

And it got me thinking.  Is this the beginning of the end for me?  Does it start with an extra space and end with me, shaking my fist at the youth and cursing their new-fangled technology?  I can't even imagine the stuff Anna is going to have access to as she grows up - the kid can practically beat the hardest levels on Angry Birds, and she's only fifteen months old.

Kids these days (See?  It's already happening!) don't even know how to write the English language.  Cursive handwriting isn't a subject in most schools.  Text messaging has taught a whole generation how to communicate entirely in acronyms.  OMG!  LOL!  U R OOC! Using the correct form of "there", "they're", or "their"?  Forget about it.

So perhaps this does mean that I've officially reached the peak of my coolness.  Because if I was clueless about the new rules regarding spacing, I don't even want to know what other things I'm happily oblivious to.  And you know what?  I tried to get on board with the whole one space thing, I really did.  And I have to admit that it's just not for me.  I'll leave all that crazy stuff to the young'uns.

Turned Off Tuesdays

Lately, Mike and I have been noticing that we've been spending a crazy amount of time attached to our electronics.  Like, my phone is glued to my hand, and the netbook is perpetually in his lap, and the television is always on.  And instead of having actual conversations, we kind of grunt at each other between checking facebook for the hundredth time in a day or searching for new car listings on Craig's List, again.

So, it's time for a change.  For now on, Tuesdays in our house will be known as "Turned Off Tuesdays".  The minute Mike walks in the door after work, cell phones will be powered down, laptops will be shut off, and the television will take a much needed break.  We will be forced to talk to each other, more than just "Do you know where the laptop charger cord is?" or "Can you pass the remote?"  Tonight, the plan involves a few steaks that need to be grilled, a bottle of wine, and a game of scrabble.  It's an experiment, but one that I'm thinking will be a total success.

On a side note, I hope everyone had a wonderful Valentine's Day.  Anna enjoyed the holiday thoroughly, first with a date with her best bud Cedella at Sweetie-licious for a little tea party and a whole lotta pie.  Well, more pie for her mama, since for some odd reason my child doesn't seem to obsess over the awesomeness of this dessert as much as I do.  Crazy girl. 

Do you take one lump, or two?

Anna is totally unimpressed with pie.  I, on the other hand, am ecstatic.

Then she got to tag along with Mike and I on our dinner date, although our reservations were at 5:30, kind of like Phil and Claire from Modern Family - early bird special, anyone?  (I am a potential AARP member, remember?)  Nothing says romance like a one-year-old throwing cheerios at you.  Anna managed to keep her shrieks down to a minimum and didn't seem to annoy too many of our fellow diners, unless of course they just forgot to put their hearing aids in.  Regardless, it was a great day spent with all my valentines, and eating copious amounts of pie.

Turning off for now,
Leslie

Just Like Sally O'Malley

Living near a college campus, I am constantly reminded of that fact that I am no longer a college student.  (I am also reminded of how ugly the colors green are white are.  Ha ha.  Just kidding.  Sort of.  Go Blue!)  Mike and I will be driving around, and I'll be thinking Seriously?  You're wearing that?  Skinny Jeans?  You're a dude! or Wow, that girl really should put a hat on.  It's cold out there!  But no matter how out of touch I feel as I watch twenty-somethings walk to class, I still feel like I'm one of them, even with two diaper bags slung across my back and Anna screaming in her stroller.

Yes, yes, I know that I lead a very rich fantasy life.  In my head, though, I am convinced that everyone around me also thinks I am still a college student, and the bags under my eyes and lack of showering are due to the fact that I was pulling an all-nighter to finish a paper or playing beer pong into the wee hours at some really cool party.  Wow they are probably thinking.  That poor girl.  Going to college AND raising a baby.  Or even better, I imagine that they think I am just Anna's nanny.  Because SURELY I look much, much too young to have a baby of my own.

That fantasy was sufficiently kicked to the curb on Friday, when I found this in my mailbox.

Dear AARP,  SUCK IT!  Love, Leslie

REALLY?!??  I know that I have not been using my anti-aging moisturizer quite as often as I should be, but I certainly don't think that I look like I'm fifty.  (I kick! I stretch!) Admittedly, I do spend a lot of my time in pajamas, I really love knitting, and I recently took up the hobby of mall walking, but come on.  What a cruel, cruel contrast to my "college girl with a baby" fantasy.  

So I guess maybe this is the universe's way of telling me that I need to stop fretting about turning thirty and just enjoy where I am right now.  I may not be the college girl that I once was, but I have a long ways to go until I really will be able to classify myself as a "retired person".  

And in the meantime, I might just go ahead and send in for that membership.  I hear they get some pretty sweet deals...