Here’s a photo of one of the table centerpieces at my wedding. My mom made 14 of these suckers for the tables inside Holimont Ski Lodge. She’s craftier than Martha Stewart and way less snide. The concept was loosely inspired by my wedding crown.
And the Ikea lanterns I have hanging on my back porch.
The alternate title for this post is the early bird finds the evidence. And it begins like this:
I’ve been trying FOR A MONTH to run in the morning. Every morning I set my alarm for 7 a.m. and every morning I hit snooze for an hour. When I walk the pug in my pajamas, I stare with contempt at the svelte joggers who zip past in a blur of Spandex. Damn perfect in their Under Armour and Nikes, damn focused, listening to their iPods, pounding the pavement in the early morning fog.
I’m so desperate to develop a morning run habit that I’ve asked Ro to text message me at 7:30 for motivation.
Well, Wednesday morning I did it all on my own and because I was so proud of this feat, I ate two chocolate truffles for lunch.
I started the jog at a good clip. Rounded the block near the park by my house. Ran full throttle up Coffee Pot Boulevard –– full throttle because how could I not run full throttle up a street named Coffee Pot Boulevard? At a half-a-mile in my legs turned to Jell-O and my heart turned to applesauce. I actually hate running. While I’m fast and for five years played forward on my high school soccer team, I have knock-knees and flailing arms. When I run I look like Olive Oyl. I look like a blonde Olive Oyl.
