Monster Hair

Last spring I decided to change gyms, mostly because of the variety of classes available. It wasn't until this past week that my prior membership at the Rec expired. I am a little sad about this, because it was kind of nice being able to pick and choose which one I went to. Also, I will be really missing the sauna. I am bond and determined to have my own personal sauna some day :-)

Over the weekend, I saw one of the regulars at the Rec. He mentioned that he missed seeing me and my "monster hair." Um... thanks? I know it's hard to believe, but I don't wake up with all my hairs in place. Actually, my hair is quite a disaster when I pop out of bed. With short hair, you just never know how things are going to turn out. 

Just recently I purchased some of these in hopes to control my morning mane. 

After this morning, I am sold. The grips on the inside of them helped it from slipping and sliding. The only problem is, now I have no excuse for my "monster hair." 

Happy Halloween everyone :-)

Sparkle Farkle

There are a few times when glitter is "acceptable" for adults. One is New Year's Eve, the other is Halloween. Now, I realize there are a few exceptions (Lady Gaga), but it's not like I'm sprinkling glitter on my face to pick up a gallon of milk. I should also preface this by saying, I love glitter... especially on my nails, shoes, and jewelry. And, when done right, glitter can be an effective way to add a little pizzaz to your attire.

Let me distinguish the difference between a Halloween costume and a classy touch of glitz.

Scary lips belong to a witch.

A fun little way to spice up a "Friday outfit."

A nice touch for a fairy costume.

Just plain fun.

Don't be afraid of the glitter. Don't be afraid to be glam. And remember in the midst of all of the sparkle farkle: some girls are just born with glitter in their veins.

Fullest Full Moon

As I got in my bed last night after teaching all day and serving all night, I realized that I had been up for 21 hours. The worst part was, I didn't even feel that tired; however, I had no troubles falling asleep.

Teachers often mention how students act differently when the weather is about to change. If there is a rain cloud anywhere in sight, those kids are bouncing off the walls. Working at a sports bar is not much different. Every once in a while people start crawling out of cracks, only to leave me to wonder, "Who are you? Where did you come from? And when are you going to be leaving?"

I realize that it is almost Halloween, but was there a full moon last night? Because there were some special people roaming around.

First, we wear shoes in a restaurant. Actually, we should all be wearing shoes in public. Period. "What's that smell?" Oh yeah, the dude at my table decided to kick back and relax. No, thank you.

Secondly, we are not having a costume party at any point this weekend. So to the man wearing the Scooby Doo attire: What were you thinking? You look ridiculous. Go back to your party.

Finally, I do not work at Perkins. Therefore, you don't need to rush up to the hostess stand to pay. Your server will take care of your bill, so don't go running around with your bill and money in hand. Chill. Out.

Phew. I feel much better. I hope the fullest of the full moons was last night, because I don't know if I can handle this craziness again tonight.

Clinique Counter Curiosity

I find the older I get, the more talkative I am with salespeople. I love to hear their opinions about products and attire. I would like to think I’m doing them a favor; they have to bored, right? If I’m really in the mood to shop, I head straight to the clerk to hear about what’s in season and how to mix-and-match with pieces I have from home.

Just the other day, I was replacing some makeup at the Clinique counter. I was going on about my mascara primer; talking about how much I loved the product. The clerk went on to share that “every time you lose an eyelash, it takes two years to grow back.” Really? How can that be? It’s not like I’m plucking them out one by one, but I feel like I’ve lost quite a few lashes in my time. This conversation left me curious. Was she for real, or was she trying to sell me a product? I do love the product, and I plan on continuing to purchase it; however, I’m not sold on this reasoning.

How often are these salespeople sincere? Are they taught to blow smoke up our rears? Or is this all legit? I’m so sure that spending an extra $20 on facial products will make me look ten years younger. Clinique counter, you make me one curious cat. 

Bad@#$ Barbie

Growing up, I found any excuse to play Barbies. I dressed them up and re-arranged their houses. My Barbies experienced the monumental parts of life; she dated, broke-up, had babies, and got married (Naughty Barbie may have even found herself at the local bar). Barbie and her friends lived out every little girl’s dreams.

One Christmas, my gifts consisted of the entire Barbie wedding set. This included everyone from Ken, the groom, to, Todd, the ring bearer. Of course my aunts helped me create Barbie’s dream wedding, complete with toilet paper to represent the isle.

I was glad to have a little sister that shared my love for Barbies. When my friends and I started junior high, most of us put away our dolls and Barbies. Not me. I had a younger sister that I had to play with (wink, wink).

As I was snooping online the other day, this article caught my eye. A tattooed Barbie?!? Sure enough, it's Barbie sporting a pink bob and flowery tattoos. I just have to say: I. Love. This. I mean, everyone else gets to express themselves. Why not Barbie? She is a doctor, teacher, and gymnast. There is no reason she can’t show some ink.

Barbie, I always knew you were a bad@#$. 

What I Would Never Be

Let’s set up a little scenario. You meet someone new, and it the midst of all the small talk you learn that he or she works as an investment broker. First thoughts? Well, mine would be, “Why would you ever want to do that?”

I was watching my beloved “Sex and the City” the other evening. As Carrie glided across the streets of New York, she graciously ran into a dog walker. A dog walker. This got me thinking, “Why would anyone want to do that?” Walk around with twelve dogs. I suppose you would have to pet them too.

It brought me back to a time when I had to volunteer at the humane society. My hands stayed in my pockets the entire time. I was not about to pick up a three legged dog. And there was no way that I was going to hang out in a room full of cats. Eww. This still gives me goosebumps. Yuck-o.

So, what would I never be? A dog walker… or a volunteer at the humane society. 

The Land of Mascots

Well, today marks the start of my second student teaching experience! Which means, for the next eight weeks I will be a Wolverine. That’s right, in the span of one week I was able to transform from a Spartan into a Wolverine. Pretty crafty, I know.

Growing up I was a Bulldog. As I moved to college, I learned how to roar like a Panther. All these life changes call for great versatility. As the colors, cheers, and mascots change, I began to wonder how many different teams I will be cheering for by the end of my teaching career. I suppose I will be part dog, part warrior, part beast by the end of it all. In other words, one scary looking creature.

On family road trips, my brother and dad used to play “name the mascot.” Dad would yell out a college anywhere in the country, and my brother would respond with the mascot of that particular school. Talk about worthless information; however, it is really quite impressive. Who knew that Lake Forrest College is home of the Boomers? An even better question: who cares?

I have actually always really enjoyed the exchanges between my dad and brother. Maybe some day I will be living with them in the land of mascots. 

The Chill Factor

I spent another weekend playing bartender/server. I forget how much I enjoy the busyness and socializing that comes along with the "bar scene." I like being up on my feet, bee-boppin' around :-)

Towards the end of last night, I stopped; I looked around at my surroundings. All I concluded from that is: people are unique. Everyone has different styles, needs, desires, and the list goes on. We are all special, but there is one for sure trait that we have in common: impatience. Holy cow. No, you won't fall over if you don't get a beverage within 2.6 seconds. No, you will not die of malnutrition if you don't receive your breaded tenderloin and fries. And, yes, if our host tells you that all the tables are full, it is not an evil joke. So don't bother searching around the restaurant to find your own spot. Chill.

Every once in a while, I need to be reminded to chill. Not just in the line at the grocery store, but with people. It makes me crabby and not fun to be around. I can get worked up about small things, or I can learn to chill. Last night I mentioned to another server, "I hate it when people get upset about things I can't control." The fact is, we don't know what is next. We have to learn to chill, go with the flow, and be patient.

When I seek guidance from my mom about something bothering me, often times her first words are: "Anna, first off, you need to chill," or "Some of that is just learning to chill." I got it Mom. Sometimes it just takes a little bit more time to figure out the chill factor.

Simply Simple

In the wake of a crazy life, more people are seeking simplicity. It is the basis of the latest decorating ideas. There is a constant desire to de-clutter and make things fresh. The truth is, busyness and chaos muddle the idealisms of simplicity. The complex nature of our society takes over in the end.

Here are my ideas when seeking this desired simplicity:

1. Back to the basics. I don't just mean the basics of our things, but also our thoughts.

2. Turn it off. Again, not just your things, your thoughts. Why is so difficult for us to be silent?

So before you go throwing away clutter or condensing all of your electronics onto one device, consider personal simplicity. Leaving the complex nature behind, we are much closer to being simply simple.

Burpees Make Me Pukey

This morning I was brought back to a place I never thought I'd have to revisit. 7th grade. No, I didn't wake up with a giant whitehead on the tip of my nose. I didn't have an awkward run-in with a my latest boy crush. And I surely didn't throw on a pair of black, corduroy Unionbay overalls. I skipped, shuffled, and burpeed... 7th grade volleyball practice, take two.

7th grade volleyball marks a monumental time for girl athletes. It's the first real practice. When I say real practice, I mean not AAU basketball coached by my dad. And not shooting hoops with my brother in the driveway. 7th grade volleyball was my first competitive school sport; therefore, my first real practice.

I vividly remember the first week. Girls limping and whining about their sore legs. "Sorry I'm late to class, Ms. Teacher. I had to come all the way from Mr. Teacher's room." Cry me a river, right? I can see my girlfriends and I shuffling and skipping across the old, beat-up gym floor. We wondered why we had to do so much conditioning; all we wanted to do was scrimmage. Can you imagine 40 girls, most of which had never touched a volleyball, scrimmaging the first week of practice? Not a good plan.

Fast forward to this morning's kickboxing class. Let me just say, I don't like jumping. I would rather run 6 miles that do jumping jacks for 3 minutes. My body hates jumping, which means this was not a welcomed surprise at 5:30 a.m.:

I. Was. Beat.

While this may not be my favorite part of the workout, I never regret going. Even if burpees make me want to pukey.

Grammar Sucks

Normally I pride myself in using correct grammar. I have a pretty good ear for word usage errors. When it comes to writing, I "auto-correct" as I go and rarely edit. Of course, this leads to careless and embarrassing errors. Maybe some day I will practice what I preach to my students... oops!

As I began teaching simple and complex sentences to the freshmen during my first eight weeks of student teaching, I realized I needed to brush up on the fundamentals of the English language. While I know how to use correct sentences, that does not mean I remember what they are called. So, introducing....

...my saving grace. I plan on spending some quality time with this puppy. One of my teaching mentors suggested this for me. The author, Joanne Kimes, has a list of "sucks" books that are actually quite interesting and humorous. As I thumb through it, I think it will be a useful tool for my students and me. Whoohoo!

For all of you that think I'm crazy for getting so excited about grammar, consider this:

Grammar does anything but suck. 

Keep On Movin'

Currently, I'm in "transition week." I get an entire week in between my placements to complete my final assessment and... well, that's what I'm trying to figure out. I don't do well without set schedules; therefore, I find myself in a rut. 

Transitions also mean the "unknown." For a structured person, this is not fun. I learned a long time ago that I'm not spontaneous, and I'm okay with that. Pondering my future (near and far) kept me up last night. Long about 4 a.m. I decided that I am going to make some changes; I'm going to dig myself out of this rut. 

Then I found this:

This will be my motivation as I get back on track in becoming a balanced banana ;-)

See Anna Floss.

I love clean teeth. I love mouth wash, toothpaste, floss, and toothpicks. All of this means that one of my favorite places is the dentist. Yes, I'm one of those weirdos. I love how they pick at your teeth, the foamy fluoride, and seeing my little teeth on X-rays.

I realize that people have a few issues with the dentist. I would love to help y'all out this morning. Here goes...

1. Where does my tongue go? Don't be afraid to move that sucker around. Remember these people are trained professionals, and they see millions of tongues per year. Don't feel self-conscious about your tongue. Just listen to the dental assistant. That person will never lead you astray ;-)

2. Why is she talking to me? I know that it's difficult to talk to someone who has their hands stuck in your mouth. However, think how long of a day it would be if you couldn't talk to anyone. Do that dental assistant a favor. Chat it up in between rinsing and spitting. You'll make that person's day.

3. What if I drool? You will. Get over it.

Finally, enjoy your experience. It's only twice a year that you am able to have a professional clean your teeth. The other 363, You're on your own.

If you haven't figured it out, today's the day I get to visit my dentist. In other words: See Anna Floss.

I will leave you with this. Enjoy.

Reunited And It Feels So Good

After much contemplating, my friend Ashley and I decided that our Saturday night would be spent with movies, nail polish, popcorn, and M&Ms. We slipped into comfy clothes and headed to Target to get some necessities for the evening.

As we browsed through the movies, this little baby caught us dead in our tracks:

Dawson's Creek: The Complete Series (Only $45!!)

Oh. My. Word. Of course I'm on a “budget” right now, so this really isn’t in the cards for me. After convincing ourselves it was unnecessary, we settled for Stepmom, Horrible Bosses, and Life As We Know It.

On my drive home the next morning, I started thinking again about Dawson’s Creek when Edwin McCain’s “I Could Not Ask For More” came on the radio. Was this a sign? I have been reunited with my long-loved and appreciated cast of Dawson’s Creek. I can’t stop thinking about Pacey’s shithead grin, Joey’s intense stares, and Dawson’s complex diction.

Yes, I have been reunited and it feels so good. Will someone out there tell me these are all signs leading my to purchase this incredible coming-of-age television series?

Lessons from Range Rover

Sometimes the quickest comment, a few little words can leave a lasting impression. This morning, I stopped on my way home to "gas up" and grab a water bottle for the road. As I swiped my debit card and headed out the door, I thanked the lady behind the counter at the Range Rover gas station. Her response caught me off guard. "You're welcome, we appreciate you."

I couldn't stop smiling as I slid into my car. It feels nice to be appreciated, especially when it is so unexpected. Even the small things in life are important to someone. How many times have I stopped at a gas station for a snack? How many times have I shopped at Target? How many coffees have I bought at Starbucks (I'd rather never know)? All of these things are appreciated by someone.

I am so happy that this lady shared her appreciation with me. Now I can say that this morning I pumped gas and received a life lesson from Range Rover.

One More Step to Better

The time has come for another birthday.

As you may remember me saying earlier, I’m a pretty big fan of birthdays. However, this year I have lost my intense, over-the-top spirit. It may be because I have been preoccupied with school, or due to the fact that 26 is not a fun number. Lame-o number.

Here’s how I have chose to view my 26th birthday: “This is not one more step to older, just one more step to better.” I’m learning and growing. While mistakes can be fun, beginning to figure things out is much more exciting.

The best part of my day: getting to finally open this…

Grandpa sent it on Monday, and I have been such a good granddaughter! I have looked at it each day, holding off the excitement of tearing open the envelope. Call me lame, but I look forward to birthday cards.

So as I open this card, I can say that I am working on my “one more step to better.”

Bittersweetest

My student teaching experience consists of eight weeks in a high school and an additional eight weeks in a middle school. Today marks the end of my first eight weeks with the older kidlets. One word: bittersweetest.

The truth is, the last eight weeks has been filled with ups and downs, knock-downs and try-agains, personal and professional growth; it has been incredible.

The bitter: I have to leave this wonderful school, filled with a supportive staff and teenagers full of spirit.

The sweet: I am one step closer to my dream of becoming a teacher.

The sweetest:

Gotta love these little guys :-) 

I am thankful for the guidance I have received over the past eight weeks. My cooperating teachers have left lasting, positive impressions on me as a person and as a teacher. They are incredible. I am so thankful and lucky to have been a part of this team and community :-) It's just the bittersweetest!

Deadly Combination

With fall comes Halloween. With Halloween comes ridiculous costumes and mounds of candy. I tend to stay clear of many all costume parties; however, the mounds of candy can be a problem. Bags upon bags of "snack size" treats. I kind of like having the little packs in my cupboard. They satisfy my sweet tooth without the guilt of an entire bag. 

However, I still have to stay clear of the Halloween candy isle. My reason: candy corn. 

Why don't they make these guys into "snack size" creations? My guess is that one serving would be seven pieces, which is completely unsatisfying. 

Another treat I can't have in my house: animal crackers.

Who can stop once at just the zebra? I need to eat the lion, tiger, and bear too.

The deadliest combination of all: candy corn, animal crackers, along side peanuts for a irresistible fall mix.  Lord, help me. 

We're Just Livin"

I’ve always thought that I am a neat freak. I like things in their place. I dust my room 2-3 times a week. Ideally, I would have my clothes lined up according to season, color, or style. However, life happens and obsessive-compulsive behaviors don’t always fit in.

“Sorry. I won’t have your papers graded, because I’m organizing my sock drawer.” Excuse #1.

“I left my kids at daycare all night, because I had to vacuum. I have to be able to see the little lines on my carpet.” Extreme excuse #2.

Growing up, I had a clean home… most of the time. The dishes were done after supper. I never went to school with dirty underwear, so the laundry must have been done. Every weekend we had a “deep clean” complete with a Kirby vacuum and Pledge. Instead of making excuses about why my sister’s school work was sprawled out on the kitchen table, or if there was toothpaste in the sink, my mom would simply say our house was “lived in.”

At the end of the day, my sock drawer doesn’t matter. After all, we’re just livin’. Love you, Mom ;-)

Lighten it Up

Have you even been around someone that constantly makes situations “heavy?” The kind of person you can’t bring to a party because they will start talking about how WWII has affected our economy. Picture this: everyone is chatting, laughing, and chomping on taco dip and this person starts talking about nuclear warfare. Ever seen the SLN skit that features Debbie Downer?

I was walking around school this week and overheard a conversation between two students (they think teachers can’t hear them, but they are so wrong). One student was explaining why she wears a cross necklace. She went on to say she “doesn’t care what anyone thinks.” My thoughts? Good for you, but was anyone asking? I’m not trying to sound insensitive, but I have a feeling this could have been a case of TMI (too much information). I am a proud Christian, but I don’t need to be defending my religion as I stand by the water fountain on a Friday afternoon.

There is a time and place for “heavy” discussions, and this just wasn’t it. If only I could have screamed, “Lighten it up sista!!”

Perks of Being an Early Bird

I've mentioned before how I tend to be quite the early bird. I have never learned how to take advantage of the days I am allowed to sleep in. As the days grow shorter, this becomes a little bit more annoying. However, there are a few perks that make coping with this rather bearable.

1. Music videos. Somewhere along the way, MTV and VH1 stopped playing music. Apparently strange, trashy reality TV has replaced the beautiful sounds of today's hits. Lucky for me, if you are up at the crack of dawn, music flows in and out of my ears. Yesterday, I was brought back to the 90's with this:

2. The classics. Some of my favorite old shows are played early in the morning. This morning, as my eyes began to open, I was excited to see the cast of "Saved by the Bell." I can watch episode after episode, and they never get old. This is what makes a show such a classic.

The silence and stillness of the morning is my favorite. However, I'm willing to add a little bit of noise if it means heading back to the 90's. Ahh, the perks of being an early bird.

Chatty Kathy

After a seemingly long week, I found myself quite crabby after school. I threw on some lounge clothes and turned on the TV. My mom called, and I simply told her that I was crabby. End of conversation. This is very good for me, because usually my Mom catches the short end of the stick when it comes to my bad moods. 

I found myself laying in bed, contemplating how I wanted to spend my night. I had quite a few options and wasn't sold on any of them. Then, my phone rang. It was my best friend Katherine. She was in a "mood" too, but it didn't take long for us to be swapping school stories and discussing weekend plans. We laughed, gossiped, and listened to one another. Even though we talk about every other day, these talks are usually more to "check in." Yesterday, we were able to spend a solid 30 minutes of pure conversation.

I love to text, tweet, email, etc., but my favorite mood of conversation will forever be the phone. Growing up I had the game "Dream Phone," where you call all the boys to figure out who likes you. I can still hear the words, "Yooou're right! I really like you." What a classic game. My favorite part was the giant pink phone we used to call all of the cute boys (I was a fan of Steve - 555-9999). Even then, Katherine and I were chatting. She really is my favorite chatty Kathy. 

Artsy Fartsy

This weekend I’m going on a little daycation with my parents and my sister. We are traveling to northeast Iowa (near where I was last weekend) for an art festival. I’m looking forward to spending time with my family and enjoying the beautiful Indian summer that this October has brought us. There’s nothing better than the warmth of summer mixed with the gorgeous touches of fall.

The arts festival is a collaboration of work from artists from the area. I’m hoping to see some great paintings, interesting pottery, and unique jewelry. It will be especially fun to share this with my sister, who is incredibly artsy fartsy. Maybe she will even get inspired to make me something for my birthday (wishful thinking, I’m sure).

I’ve always envied her artist touch. She has an incredible eye that sees things beyond the norm. What an awesome gift, which she shares with my aunt and cousin. Lucky and talented ladies!

As for me, I like my artsy with a little more farsty...

White Noise

White is classic. The no white pants after Labor Day is a bunch of rubbish. I love the crispness of a clean white shirt. The smell of white linen sheets. White is not loud. It is simply just there... existing.

The simplicity of white is what makes it so appealing... most of the time.

There is one place that white does not belong. On your face, shading your eyes from the sun. White sunglasses tell me one of two things: "I want to be a badass, but I'm not." or "I'm so privileged that I can buy $26 white shades and drive around in a Sebring convertible."

Do yourself a favor when it comes to shade shopping. Stick with the other classics: black and brown. If you are feeling really crazy, you may throw in a nice turtle pattern. Otherwise, let's keep the white shades in the background with all of the white noise.

War Is Not Just a Card Game

It never fails. I just keep on learning. I suppose this is a good thing; but, if you find brain guts all over my notebooks and computer, you will know the learning has gone to far. Extreme? Yes. True? Very.

As a student teacher, I must meet with my supervisor periodically to have observations and discussions about how things are going. It just so happens that my supervisor recently witnessed “one of those days” in my classroom. Thankfully, she understands completely and is very easy to talk to about any issues.

Today’s issue:

I’m thinking about buying this little sign, because it may become the staple in my own classroom. I realize that I cannot keep twenty-six freshmen quiet. I am a teacher, not superwoman.

And just when I’m about to reach my boiling point, I must remember this: war is not a just a card game, and we must all learn how to pick our battles.  

My Kind of Marathon

It’s no secret that I love to run. I began this hobby when I was a senior in high school and have been addicted ever since. Being that I am the least competitive person on the planet, races and running times have never really been a part of my running background. I have done numerous 5k races, but mostly for fun with friends. With that being said, no type of marathon is my near feature.

Hold up…

There is one kind of marathon I can truly appreciate… especially on a sick day. A television marathon. And not just any TV marathon, a Most Eligible Dallas marathon on Bravo. This is a good thing for more than one reason.

1. No thinking involved. There are not enough good things said about mindless television. Sometimes we all need to take a break from thinking for an entire day... 

2. I love Bravo.

3. Most Eligible Dallas is funny in a strange way. These people are quite ridiculous, but this is what keeps me tuning in time and time again. I just love he quarky remarks about the Texan style, including southern accents and big hair.

I would like to thank Bravo for an entire afternoon of entertainment yesterday. Nice work.

My Body Told Me "No"

It's bound to happen. You keep going, and going, and going (energizer bunny style) until you are completely worn out. This is what I am attributing to how I started feeling yesterday. My body became weak and tired. My stomach and head were not right, and that was all topped off with a running fever. Fun little Sunday, huh?

I've decided to let my body rest today. In other words, I don't plan on moving too far from my bed. Unexciting, but necessary.

I remember as a kid staying home sick. I would lay around and sleep on and off in my parents' bed. My 'sick food' choice: cinnamon toast. It was easy and always hit the spot.

I also remember dreading all of the make-up work. Most of the time I would push myself to just go to school, but there are times when you have to listen to your body. And, in my case today, my body told me "no."

To Grandmother's House We Go

One of the biggest parts of vacationing, or even just getting away for the weekend, is lodging. I've stayed in many different hotels, motels, condominiums, and even tents. All of which have perks and downfalls. Here's how I would rate my preferences:

Motel: This word reminds me of where I stayed with my friend, Ashley, in Chicago. In other words: dicey. I was hoping for a quadruple lock on that door. That place had the comfiest beds, but it was hard to enjoy them after nearly crying as we got lost in the "bad part of town."

Hotel: The last hotel I stayed at was a "Level 4" at the Marriott. I have no clue what that means, except that we got to stay on the 30th floor and had access to a special breakfast in the morning. The views of the city were awesome, and it had two floors. Needless to say, I wasn't about to complain.

Condominium: Our condo in Winterpark, CO was awesome. Complete with a fireplace and spectacular views, it was hard not to relax and read a book by the hot tub outside that held over 20 people. It was so much fun that our family went back time and time again. Great memories.

Tent: Not my favorite, but I can appreciate the experiences. There is something to be said about sitting around a campfire and sliding into a warm sleeping bag as your buns freeze off. And who doesn't like to use community showers with flip flops on?

This weekend I am able to add one more to the list: Bed and Breakfast. Northeast Iowa is full of 'em. Apparently they have traded in the Clarion Inn for a more interesting Jailhouse B&B. I feel like I'm staying at my grandparents house. I am being catered to clean bedding and yummy blueberry pancakes. The hills and bluffs are unlike the land in central Iowa. We truly came over the river and through the woods, all the way to Grandmother's house.

Frosty McFrost-Frost

Today marks the start of a beautiful month: October. A month where leaves begin falling, harvest is in full swing, goblins come out to play, and it's almost time for this gal's birthday. That's right. Today I will begin celebrating turning another year older, and end my celebration when moms take down Halloween decor and replace it with Thanksgiving gobbles. There's always a reason to celebrate, right?

This morning I woke up, laced up my Mizunos and head out the door to check out a trail near the river I'm staying at this weekend. Little did I know that it was only 33 degrees. Brrr! I was pretty comfortable at first, assuming I brought long sleeves and my Nike running pants. But I would be lying if I said I could feel my legs after being out there for 30 minutes. "I can't feel my legs. I have no legs!!!" - Can't Hardly Wait (classic movie)

It's hard to know if I got my sweat on when it's this cold out. This morning's chill just reminds me of what's to come. Cold nights, chilly mornings, "good sleeping weather." I love this time of year, even if today I almost turned into Frosty McFrost-Frost.