heaven is a milkshake

A toasted marshmallow milkshake, that is.

Seriously.

I read on my friend Katie's blog about this burger place that makes toasted marshmallow milkshakes. I know. And so, I thought, what better way to celebrate finally running a mile without stopping than with a frosty mug of blended, refined white sugar?

So, Paul and I went and got us some. It was like a near death experience. There was a light, and Paul was there, and....

Okay, maybe it was in no way like a near death experience. I was kind of lying about there being a light. Although this is New York and there are lots of lights. But it was totally like heaven.

So, for anyone who's interested, if you want to go to heaven, just take the 6 train to Union Square, walk a few blocks to Stand 4 Burgers, and order the toasted marshmallow milkshake.

Mmmmmmmmm.

take that, junior high P.E.

And the award for Running a Whole Stinking Mile Without Stopping or Puking Her Guts Out goes to......

ANDREA BOOOOEEEREEEM!!!!!

WHAAAA!!!! HOOOOOO!!! HAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

This is such a surprise! I didn't even have a speech prepared. Well, first, I would like to thank BFF Jen Bennion for patiently jogging at a snail's pace with me and saying nice stuff like"you probably won't die" and "really, you're not going to die".

I would also like to thank Jen for bringing her baby Violet, who is one of the Cutest Babies in the World, and I am quite certain my death defying feat would have been impossible were it not for her enthusiastic cooing.

Also I would like to thank Fort Tryon Park for being so leafy and pretty and for not having any potholes for me to fall into and break my ever loving neck. Also thanks to Fort Tryon Park for being so park-y. Really, nice job with those plants.

And a shout out goes to the Hudson River, just for being there. Well done, river. Well done.

And no thanks whatsoever to the minivan and the Toyota Corolla who cut us off in front of the Cloisters. I still did it, but no thanks to you. See what happens when you misbehave? Now I'm not going to put you in my movie.

Lastly, a great big thank you to my body, for not stopping, puking, or dying. Thanks, body. I couldn't have done it without you.

housecleaning

Hey, so if you look at my blog roll and all of a sudden your blog isn't there, it's not because you punched me and now I'm mad at you or anything.

Although if you punched me I might be a little peeved.

It's just that I noticed it had been a while since you blogged, and I figured you've moved on to bigger and better things, like winning Pulitzer prizes and stuff like that.

I still love you just as much.

no man is an island

Last night, I slept in our bed.

Normally, of course, that's not unusual. It's just that I've been hacking up a lung for like the last week, and whenever I lie down my lungs think that's a cue for them to start acting up. So, I banished myself to the couch, because I didn't want to keep Paul awake.

The first night, I think Paul was worried. He came out in the morning looking all concerned and was like, "did I say something?", and I responded by promptly coughing up approximately six and a half tons of phlegm.

Yuck.

And yesterday was Paul's birthday and I thought what would be a better birthday present than a good night's sleep?

See, I'm not the best sleeper even when I'm not infected. You know when you watch romantic comedies and there's that shot where the dude sees the girl sleeping and she looks all angelic?

Well, I am not that girl.

I am an Ugly Sleeper. Really. First, I like to wedge myself directly underneath Paul, after which I proceed to drool, grind my teeth, and mutter weird things in a strangely high-pitched voice. Ugly. Add constant coughing and, well.....

I just didn't want to go there. Even I have my limits.

Yesterday morning Paul woke me up, and I wiped the drool off my face and shouted HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and Paul smiled at me.

"You can sleep in bed, you know," he said. "I'll just get earplugs."

And I thought, that's a beautiful moment we just had. Marriage is all about compromise. Also earplugs.

cha-cha-changes

I gave my blog a haircut.

I went with minimalism.

I'm going to have my friend Jake do some blog design for me. He's kind of a tech-y genius.

If you don't like my blog's haircut, that's okay. It can always grow back.

Just don't say anything mean, okay, because then my blog might cry and then I would have to soundly kick your trash. And I really hate doing that.

Okay, bye.

eating stew with paul (what i love about today)

What I love about today is that it's Paul's birthday.

I also love that I got to take a shower so hot that my skin turned lobster pink, and I love that it's the perfect weather for beef stew and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

Most of all, though, I love that it's Paul's birthday.

I'm glad he was born.

Also, I'm glad he grew up and married me even though (or is it because?) I have the entire screenplay for The Music Man, Fiddler on the Roof, and Oklahoma! committed to memory.

And I'm also glad he decided not to abandon me when he found that out.

Also I like the gap in-between his front teeth.

The other thing I love about today is that in approximately one hour and forty minutes, Paul will ring the buzzer and come upstairs and we will eat beef stew and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies together, after which he will allow me to sing Happy Birthday to him even though he doesn't like birthdays at all.

Not even a little bit.

thoughts while eating a fun-size snickers bar

I really like Halloween.

My reasons are threefold: first, I rejoice in the fact that there is a holiday centered entirely around candy and dressing up (two of the best things in the world), second, I really love candy, and third, I also really, really love candy.

While it is perhaps slightly less socially acceptable for me to eat candy for breakfast, lunch and dinner now than, say, when I was nine, my love for Halloween hasn 't faded a bit. The only thing that makes me kind of sad is that I will never again be as cute in a Halloween costume as when I was a kid.

My time has passed, you know? I had my glory days, when all I had to do was put on a tutu or a crown or my mom's high heel shoes and everyone was like "Awwwww....". Now I'm just another washed up thirty year old wearing a Cinderella crown while I chase some Swedish Fish with Yoohoo. And people still go "Awwww...", only now I get the feeling it's for a different reason.

Except for this year, I didn't dress up because I was sick and Paul wouldn't let me go to any Halloween parties because he didn't want me infecting any kids. Whatever. Honestly, I think he's a little embarrassed to be seen with me on Halloween and he saw my sickness as a blessing from God. Potato, po-tahto.

Well, that's life, you know? You buy some cough medicine, and hang up your Halloween costume and you eat like a pound of candy and you move on, right? If I could go back, (not that I would, okay?) I would totally go back to fifth grade when I dressed up as half of a pair of dice and I wore my black leotard and black tights and I had this box that I painted white and stuck black dots all over it and I won best costume and got to sit in the special chair shaped like a huge hand all day.

But that was then, and this is now.

And I'll always have the fifth grade. And candy.

Let's not forget about candy.