The G Word.

I'll warn you ahead of time- this is going to get whiny and self-indulgent. I don't see any way around it. So please, if that type of material bothers you, I implore you to close your browser window and wait for next time, when I delve into my exploits as a car renter (which promises to be a fun, albeit cautionary tale).

I think, if you asked around, you would find that nearly everybody knows a word which makes them cringe. You know- a word whose utterance is like nails on a chalkboard- a terrible, grating noise that you never ever want to hear, ever.

If you've seen "Amelie," you will know that for Georgette the tobacconist, it is the words "fruit of thy womb." [And while we are on the topic, if you have NOT seen "Amelie," you need to drop what you are doing and watch it immediately. This blog post will still be here once you've finished.]

For Lily form "How I Met Your Mother," it was the word "moist."

...but I digress.

I'll admit that there are lots of words which I don't like the sound of, but that's not really what this is about. This is about a word which, to this day, makes me cringe and want to die- not because of the way it sounds, but because of the memory that I have attached to it.

The word is GORGEOUS.

Many years ago, in the wee hours of a summer morning, I lay in bed on the phone with a boyfriend. He was very nice and very funny, and usually ready with a sweet thing to say. I liked to chide him about that. "You're just biased because you're my boyfriend," I told him, "Boyfriends always say that their girlfriend is gorgeous."

"Well," he responded, after a while, "I don't think I'm biased. I mean, I wouldn't call you gorgeous."

There was a long silence. In fact, I don't remember speaking at all after that, though I am sure that we did continue talking. I do remember that for a while, whenever he opened his mouth, instead of hearing what he had to say, I simply heard "I wouldn't call you gorgeous. I wouldn't call you gorgeous. I wouldn't call you gorgeous" on a continuous loop. Why would he say that? I had always known that I wasn't the BEST looking girl in the world, but was it really something that he, as someone who was hoping to get into my pants, needed to point out? I blamed myself, and I still do. After all, I had been flirtatiously fishing for compliments- and let's face it, how often does that really turn out the way we'd hope?

To this day, I do not like the word. I very seldom say it. It's tempting to think that the reason that I don't like it stems from the fact that I do not feel gorgeous, and that the whole point of me writing this is just to gain an outpouring of sympathy- "OH MANDY, DON'T BE RIDICULOUS!! YOU ARE GORGEOUS!!"

I do not want that.

What I want instead is a little self-examination. This happened a long time ago, I daresay before my brain was fully developed, but it reflects an aspect of my personality which I have always found frustrating. This comment made an impression on me. For a long time, it was one of the only things I could think of when considering my appearance. I should have confronted my feelings about it. I should have confronted HIM about what he'd said. But I didn't. Instead I pushed those feelings down and continued to date prince charming (for a LOT longer, actually...). I've always been afraid of confrontation. The very idea of it makes me so uncomfortable that I would rather jump out a window than stay in a room and confront somebody about something that has made me upset. Surely the window-jump would be less painful. This fear is something that, as an adult, I want to try and combat. This doesn't mean that I have a desire to go and pick fights with everybody who irritates me, but it does mean confronting painful and upsetting feelings that I suppress. Maybe if I actually have a good look at them, I won't be as quick to push them down anymore. It's too late for "the G word," but maybe other adjectives will be spared in this practice.

PHEW!

Usually when I broach this topic- and I will admit, it has been a while- I start to feel terrible, and immediately resort to pushing the feeling down as far as it will go and focusing on something else. I wanted to see if I could confront this feeling. It turns out, I can! Maybe confrontation won't be so hard after all.

Non-Random Relations

I've been thinking a lot about my parents lately. It probably has something to do with the fact that I haven't been home to see them in a while, and that I am reaching a point in my life where I would like to live a lot closer to where they are (a desire which really isn't in the cards just yet). I've spent much of my life in complete denial that I bore any resemblance to my mother or my father- and maybe it's just that I am getting older, or that my missing them has suddenly made me self-aware, but I'm seeing similarities become more and more pronounced each day.

If you're familiar with my family, you know that when you look at my Mom, you have a pretty good idea of what I will look like in 30 years. We are both short with dark hair, and have figures so similar that we are able to share clothes. My wedding photos are basically a glimpse into the future...

If we're honest, though, the fact that I am my mother's daughter comes down to a lot more than our physical similarities. My mother and I share MANY of the same mannerisms, including an unimpressed/judgy face reserved for particularly irritating issues, and a propensity to slam things around in the kitchen if we're angry.

While the kitchen slamming is probably not the healthiest or most attractive release of frustration, I embrace most of my "Cindy-isms." It's sort of comforting to know that these tendencies of mine are rooted somewhere- an unexpected bond between mother and daughter. Maybe one day I'll have a little girl who will also give the unimpressed/judgy face. THAT'S the dream!! Hopefully she will inherit my mother's selflessness as well- a trait which I've managed to avoid until now, and remain envious of.


Then, of course, there are the traits I got from my father....

I mean, the photo pretty much speaks for itself, but I think that the "Dad" half of me is perhaps equally strong. My father and I are both able to talk for as long as there is someone to listen (and if there isn't, pets and friendly looking furniture are also welcome in conversations). My sense of humor is also pretty much all Dad- just consider my favorite joke (a bear and rabbit pooping next to each other in the woods...it's a long story). My father and I both love children, detest extreme heat and humidity, and have potty mouths. I flatter myself to think that I have inherited some of Dad's patience- it takes a lot to live with so many women- though that may be more of a delusion than reality.

I think I'll run these lists by them when I see them in a couple of weeks (Ben and I are renting a car and DRIVING to Maine...stay tuned for that insanity).

As powerful as denial may be, I think it's pretty clear that I have grown up to be very like BOTH of my parents. Adolescent me would shudder at the thought, but there are certainly worse things.

Guess Who's Back...?

....back again? MANDY'S BACK!! Tell a friend!


For a while, I really thought that my blog was dead. I found myself never having the time to write- or, more rightly, not really feeling like I WANTED to write. But lately, I've been feeling the need to get a bloggin' again. So here it goes!



Here's what's been going on in the past year and change...


**I GOT MARRIED!!!**





Ben and I are actually approaching our first anniversary- which is wild and crazy and awesome. We had a very small, kickass wedding in Maine, and it was an excellent party with sunflowers and cupcakes and all the best music from middle school dances. I think that my favorite part of the night, though, was making a Wendy's run after the reception with J and F. Spicy chicken nuggets have never tasted so good.

[All of my wedding photos were taken by Cassandra Henri, and I encourage you to check out her website, http://cassandrahenri.com/. Her photos are amazing and she is very sweet and wonderful and easy to work with. If you live in Maine and have photo needs, PLEASE look her up- she's AWESOME.]



**I RAN RACES!!!**

The Tower of Terror 10 Miler....

Night time race. Scary zombies on the road side that started walking towards runners and really freaked me out. But after we crossed the finish line and changed into dry clothes, we rode the Tower of Terror A WHOLE LOT. So it was a win!





Disney's Glass Slipper Challenge....

These races earned me some pretty sweet bling, and there is such a special energy that goes along with Disney's Princess Half Marathon Weekend.





To celebrate, we had breakfast at Ohana and hung out with Stitch, who is my spirit animal.





The More/Fitness/Shape Women's Half Marathon...




WHICH I FINISHED IN UNDER TWO HOURS!! I was absolutely euphoric with my time. AND, I saw my spin instructor on the course- and passed her! [I don't have much room to brag though, because she still kicks my ass every week with her crazy hard spin classes].


AND...The Sugarloaf MARATHON!!!!!




Okay, listen. They say that half marathons are a gateway drug, and I'm here to tell you that it's true. When I first started running half marathons, I made a point of talking about how miserable I would be if I crossed the 13 mile mark and was only halfway finished. NEVER would I run a full marathon- that's only for the truly insane! While I will admit that there were some moments on the course where I questioned my sanity, I am already obsessing about how to make my next marathon better and faster and stronger. (Next up- The Walt Disney World Marathon in January).


**WE GOT A DOG!!!**

Yep. Ben and I adopted a basset mix from an area rescue. His name is Lando, and he is sweet and clumsy. He is also very patient, as evidenced by his putting up with me constantly photographing him. Lando likes belly rubs, treats, and walks in the park. And we REALLY like HIM!






...and don't worry about Babs. She was pretty pissed at first, but once she established her dominance as queen, it's been pretty smooth sailing. They share a lot of the same interests (food, treats, belly rubs, laying on warm laundry), and I predict that they will be snuggle friends once autumn comes around.




So there it is, a (semi) brief update on all the changes and the running that has been going on this past year. I'll be back soon with more thoughts. Trust me. I've got A LOT.


M

Hiatus

As you may (or may not) have noticed, I haven't written in a while. TWO MONTHS to be exact. Let's call it an accidental hiatus- There have been lots of times that I have meant to blog, but silly things have a tendency to get in the way. In the interim, I've been doing a little (yet unpublished) maintenance work, and I plan to be back with more regularity in AUGUST!

Once I'm back, is there anything that anybody would like to see or hear about? [Seriously, anything at all.] Let me know in a comment!

That's all for now. Until August, my friends...

Stuffed Pepper Fiesta!

These stuffed peppers are a result of my trip to Trader Joe's with no list and no plans for dinner. I arrived home with a week's worth of groceries that didn't necessarily go together.

Challenge Accepted.

These are peppers stuffed with ground turkey, black beans, corn, and tomatoes. I've been trying to come up with a more creative and enthusiastic name for them... (Yet Another) Mexican Stuffed Pepper seems to be what is sticking. Wanna know how I made them? Of course you do!

Ingredients:

*four bell peppers, any color
*half a tablespoon olive oil
*one onion, diced
*one pound ground turkey
*one cup frozen corn, thawed
*one (15 ounce) can black beans,
[drained and rinsed]
*one can mild green chiles
*one cup halved grape tomatoes
*one tablespoon taco seasoning
*one teaspoon chili powder
*shredded cheddar cheese
[for the top]

Directions:

1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees

2) Slice peppers in half lengthwise, and remove membranes, seeds, and stems. Bring large pot of water to a boil, and cook peppers for about three minutes. Drain peppers and rinse with cold water until cooled. Arrange in shallow baking dish with a splash of water in the bottom.




3) Heat olive oil in a medium sized skillet. Add onions and cook over medium-low heat until soft, about five minutes.



4) Add ground turkey and cook until browned, breaking up turkey with a wooden spoon or spatula.

5) Stir in corn, black beans, and chiles. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, or until everything is heated through.



6) Stir in tomatoes, taco seasoning, and chili powder. Cook for 5 more minutes, allowing flavors to mingle.



7) Using a slotted spoon or spatula, scoop turkey mixture into prepared peppers. Top with shredded cheddar.



8) Bake at 350 for 30 minutes or until heated through.



ENJOY!!!

When Mandy Met Pierre...

I got CPR and First Aid certified today. I even got a fancy card which, at the suggestion of the instructor, has my (soon to be) married name on it, so I will refrain from posting a picture, for my own personal superstitious reasons.

I met a new friend while I was there. His name was Pierre, and he was SUPER chatty...




...we were both very relieved to find that there was no infant CPR module for this class. I'm still traumatized from having to go anywhere near the freaky, silver, alien babies they distributed in my high school health class.

That's all!!

Happy Tuesday!

Real-Life Prom

The podcast that I listen to while I run was discussing proms as I hoofed it around the Harlem Meer this morning. The premise was that everybody imagines a wonderful prom for themselves, but nobody actually has a good real life prom. I hadn't thought about my prom in quite some time, but as I continued my run, I considered my prom, or what my old and senile brain could remember of my prom, and I think they're right. Looking back, I don't think that my prom was bad as much as it was just...not good. It was apparently so blase that my brain chose to commit very little of the ordeal to memory.

At least the pictures make it look like we had a good time.



It rained the day of my prom. It was a constant, torrential rain which resulted in me wearing my mother's black and white polka dot raincoat and a pair of blue rain boots I'd had since childhood as I drove out to pick up my date in my '98 Ford Taurus. To be honest, I don't remember much beyond that. I'm sure we went to dinner...though I'm not sure where, and I DID get to dance with the boy I liked...though the odds of us becoming "a thing" seemed much smaller than I'd hoped, particularly because the topic of conversation en route to the dance had involved him having sex with some other girl. I'm sure we had an after party of sorts. Part of me thinks that there was a tent involved, but the whole thing is so cloudy that I am really not sure. And it's making me feel old.

So prom was decidedly not awesome. In fact, most of ti was so "eh" that I don't even remember it. What I do remember is the afternoon after prom. We went home, we slept in, and we reunited in H's attic to watch Pretty in Pink. It was still raining, and it was just us. The girls. Soulmates. Laughing and crying about the night before. It wasn't romantic or fantastical, it was real life. And I wouldn't have had that part any other way.