Aging Gracefully List

Turning 29 wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. Before I get into that though, here's a little blog humor for you all, courtesy of a birthday card from my parents:

Ha ha! I'm always razzing my sister for not reading my blog (especially after her oh-so-sensitive, "No one wants to read that boring shit!" comment) and I squeal whenever I get a new follower, so I definitely understand that blogger on the card.

Anyway, as I said, it was a very good birthday. More than any present or wish, though, I was calmed by discovering the recipe for aging with grace and dignity. Apparently, this is all I need in any birthday:

1. Sugar.

Dan bought me cupcakes and surprised me by taking me out on Thursday to the Melting Pot fondue restaurant for dessert with some friends :) Below is the carnage leftover from the red velvet cupcake I devoured for a snack.


2. Alcohol. Gotta have some liquid courage when facing the last year of a decade in my twenties. I'm pretty much a tee-totaler, so a few beers over bowling did me just fine!


3. Supportive friends- The kind that won't heckle me (too mercilessly) when I scored a 42 on bowling. ( Athletic ability is not in my genes.)

5. More sugar. My mom made homemade chocolate caramel fondue (no such thing as too much fondue!)

6. Idiocy. Clue playing and "chubby bunny" (see previous post!)






Notice that I only included embarrassing pictures of my sister doing "chubby bunny" for this post. Serves her right for not reading my blog! Don't know what chubby bunny is?! Read my previous post.

It's good to be good at something!

I ran a 10K this weekend after a winter of lethargy... and no training... or light jogging... or even speed walking the track like my grandmas do around the local mall.

This was not my best idea.

I guess I was feeling kind of old when I turned 29 on Thursday and wanted to push myself, to prove that training was for the weak. By race day, I was completely caught up in the excitement of the clapping crowds, the extended arms offering Gatorade to hydrate me, the chants of, "You're almost there, al-most there!!" As I spotted the finish line, Dan screamed, "Yeah, Christen!!", which made me sprint the last twenty feet, probably ripping the last of my brittle leg muscles. I was strong! I was powerful! I was 29, damn it!!

Hours later, I was 89. When I went out with friends bowling, I was barely able to hobble up to sling the ball, and I squealed in pain when Dan pulled me on his lap. (Thigh muscles were shot.) Then, on Sunday, I aged another twenty years. Yep, I was the 109 woman barely able to sit in a chair, walk up a step, or stand up without cringing. The concerned owner of the Thai restaurant we went to for lunch asked, "You okay?" when I limped back from the bathroom. This was the portrait of me aging gracefully.

Lest you start to pity me, please know that I've reached self-acceptance in my wise old age. My family members and I have never been naturally athletic. It just isn't in our genes. Instead our skill resides in other areas.

Case in point: Chubby Bunny

For those amateurs who don't know, "Chubby Bunny" is a very dangerous game that Bethany and I discovered as kids at a summer camp. Basically, the player places one jumbo marshmallow in mouth and says in a clear voice, "Chubby Bunny". They follow with putting a second marshmallow in the mouth and repeat. Then they put a third in and try to say it. Now, this is where most people, their mouths bulging with marshmallow and their air supply running low, quit. The truly elite chubby bunny master keep on going. Apparently, everyone in my twisted family is one such chubby bunny master. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So after eating at the Thai restaurant, I limped back to my parents house and started to enjoy dipping strawberries and marshmallows into my mom's homemade fondue she made for a late bday celebration. The marshmallows reminded Bethany and me of camp and "chubby bunny" and before long, well... the pictures say the rest:

Don't try this at home, kids. We're professionals.

29 and holding for the next few years...

Today is my birthday!
Cue The Beatles' song Dan played for me on YouTube this morning.

I'm 29, almost at the end of the supposedly wild (yeah, right!), carefree 20's.

It feels somehow momentous, like the last round of a race. Anyone out there feel like they had to jam in a bunch of to do's before turning 30? I've always loved birthdays, but I'm feeling a tiny bit rattled by this one. I haven't done much of the big stuff like started my Master's, or figured out the plan for babies, and I have so many random "to do's" left too (get flat abs, which completely does not work with the baby plan, read more of the classics, be greener). I know 30 is a completely artificial deadline, but you all know how those decade birthdays are known to be quite the bitch.

You better believe a new list is coming soon!

Until then, I'm off to enjoy cake for breakfast. (Flat abs can wait.)

Chalkboard, chalkboard on the wall...

Being a teacher, I've always loved the nostalgic look of old-school chalkboards, and it seems like I've seen projects everywhere, like here, here, here, and here. The latter one inspired me, so I thought I'd finally take it out of my idea file and give it a whirl:


It all started with a trip to Ikea, also known as Dan's sixth level of hell. Guess he's not a fan of the labrinth layout or meatballs because, believe me, there was some under the breath bitching. I kind of like the occasional visit to get design ideas, though, and he was a good enough sport to go along. (On an unrelated note: If you haven't watched Ikea Heights, the amateurish soap opera filmed with hand held cameras, you need to! Start with episode 1. It's scandalous!)

(Epic style Ikea photo from here)

Then, I bought this cheapo frame. Isn't it fussily ornate, a la the Snow White mirror?


I sprayed about two coats of white paint on it, while wearing the my ratty "painting" pajamas with the X-mas trees on them. And a gas mask. And a backwards baseball cap. And sunglasses because it was windy. And, yes, my neighbor looked over the fence when to find out what the rattling sound was (spray paint cans) and saw me donning this creepy get-up.

He didn't say hi.


Then, I spray painted the glass with one coat primer and two coats chalkboard spray. (No picture taken of this step because I was trying to hoof it back inside to avoid further skeeving out my neighbor.)

I'm still trying to decide whether to hang the final product in my office or bedroom, but here's a shot of it leaning against the wall:



Dan and I have already started to use it for little love notes, so I may end up just leaving it on my dresser.

It makes me smile! :)

Want to see another chalkboard project? Check out my chalkboard pumpkin I made for Halloween 2010.