A Short Situation

The name is Brenna. The place is the kitchen of Last Frontier Brewery. The situation? Angry chef.

Chef: "I want to know who was responsible for mopping this floor last night!"

Me: *nervously stops chopping onion* "Um, uh, t-t-that would be m-m-me chef."

Chef: *anticipation of bitching someone out obviously deflates* "Oh, well since you would have to jump up and down on the mop bucket to wring the water out, and the mop handle is roughly 20 feet taller than you, I guess that explains it. Everyone! Until Brenna has a growth spurt or starts taking steroids, she is officially on permanent sweep duty."

Fantastic. Universally recognized hobbit doesn't have to risk potential drowning in the 1/2 inch of mop water on the floor.
Can I just park in the handicapped place already?

The Heart of the Matter

I have an entire list of motivations. I have posters and sticky notes and note cards tacked to the wall, full of quotes and expressions and pictures. Motivation to work out, motivation to smile, motivation to get on the ball. Blah, blah, blah. I love to run, I have the fitness to run, if I went for a run I would feel better. I'm going to Hawaii and I'd like to shed that last five pounds. I want to make a qualifying time for a certain marathon I have in mind. But I don't have the heart to run.

I love to cook. I love recipes and alterations and wandering grocery aisles imagining all the different things I could make. I love to create week long menus and experiment with new ingredients and taste ten million different flavors. I love the smile on someone's face when I make them something amazing, I love the feeling of taking good care of someone's most basic need. But tonight I ate out of a can. I don't have the heart to cook.

I love getting things done; prioritizing, checking things off of a list, feeling accomplished at the end of a day. I love to work and be absorbed in a task and finish it to the end. Right now, I don't think I could get off the couch to save my life. I have no energy, I have no heart.

I've been blessed to have the privilege of loving a person more than I ever thought that I could. I have been blessed to be surrounded with friends and family who love me more than I deserve. I'm happy and I'm healthy and my life is filled with opportunities. Most days I can live off adrenaline and caffeine and endorphins and the mental train of thought that puts my feet in motion. But today my heart hurts. And I can't fix it, because I don't have it.

Mmmmm...chocolate

I may have mentioned before that one of my more serious addictions would be chocolate. My other addiction would be health food. There are only a few venues which can effectively mesh together these rather polar opposite priorities. Luna Bars is one of them. Chocolate peppermint, chocolate raspberry, chocolate chocolate...with fiber! Yes!
Unfortunately, I pretty much need a separate budget category for my Luna Habit. Or not, here we go.

Chocolate Energy Bars

2 cups puffed rice cereal (I used Kashi GoLean)
2 cups rolled oats
1 Tbl flax meal
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup molasses
1tsp cinnamon and vanilla
5 Tbl unsweetened cocoa powder
2tsp stevia (or 1/4 cup brown sugar)
1/2 cup vanilla soymilk (or milk)
1/2 cup whatever you like: cashews, chocolate chips, dried cherries, sunflower seeds etc.

1. Combine chocolate powder, soy milk, molasses, honey and stevia in sauce pan over low heat until chocolate is melted and mixture slightly thickens.
2. Combine all dry ingredients in bowl, pour liquid over top and stir until well combined. Add more molasses/honey if needed.
3. Bake at 350 for 10-12 minutes until top is slightly dry. Allow to set at room temp.

Who I am Today

Sitting in my kitchen, drinking coffee, I am utterly calm. I really can't remember the last time I was relaxed. Not my body, my mind. I am not carefree, nor am I energized or confident. My mind is blank. I love it. 

I wonder how many runners encounter moose? Today, I'm considering some of the reasons that I run. It's so ingrained into my behavior that I rarely even think about it. When I'm happy, I go for a run. When I'm sad, I run to feel better. When I'm peeved, I run because there is nowhere else for that energy to be funneled into. Going to the gym is nice, cross training is nice, weights are challenging...but to me, there's just nothing like a good long run; especially on a brilliantly sunny day, when the fresh snow is sparkling and coating the ice well enough to make the sidewalks passable. These are days when I can lose myself.


1. I ran 12 miles today.
2. I passed two dogs, a mini-dachshund-rat-thing, and a moose. Twice on the moose.
3. I have a blister the size of Manhattan, and will be taping my feet for at least a week.
4. I don't usually plan my runs; they just occur when I need to balance the emotional buildup of my day. There's a feeling in my gut that pushes me out the door. Sometimes, I run just so that I don't have enough breath to cry.
5. Right now, I feel safe.
6. I haven't eaten any animal products in a week. I feel fantastic.

7. Today, I set the time I want to beat in a half marathon.
8. I'm have smoky navy bean and sweet potato soup simmering in the crock pot.
9. Cooper and I are eleven months today..how appropriate that I also got my first letter from him in my mail box this morning. If I miss him any more I'll end up running an impromptu marathon before he gets home.
10. There is no ten.

Thems old ladies gonna kill me..

So according to a pretty routine Wednesday morning, I went to the gym right after my pumpkin pie and coffee had digested. Started out with a couple pretty speedy miles on the stair master, then moved onto lower body free weights because I tend to shirk on those after a run. Did half an hours worth of weights and core, then hopped on the treadmill. I was contentedly lost in my own little world of Taio Cruz, upcoming marathons, fitting into skinny jeans and still being able to outrun Cooper when he comes back from boot camp. Then someone touched my elbow.

Let me just add a little side note here about touching a runner when they are contentedly basking in the world of endorphins and well earned body odor: you just don't do it. Especially if said runner is on a treadmill, and ESPECIALLY if you are not completely prepared to catch them as they go airborne. Yes, this is experience talking; thankfully not experience from today.

Anyways, I turn around, about to give someone a death glare and a sweaty smack, this little old lady is looking up at me; another similar creature is standing behind her.
"Excuse me miss, would you like to join our spinning class? We need one more person or the trainer can't do it." Seriously? I had visions of me saying no, and a week later the EMT's putting this lady into ambulance for a heart attack or something that might have been prevented if that class had happened. Besides, how hard could it be?

I think my mistake was in assuming that I was going to something similar to an aerobic knitting class. Wrong. An hour later I had been introduced to a few muscles I didn't know I had (probably the ones your only use when you're giving birth or something), and I couldn't hold my arms up long enough even to fix my ponytail.
I hope that I'm still going to the gym when I'm 100. Now for a post-workout Metamucil shake. Just kidding.

Unorganized Honesty

It's been so long since I've consistently blogged, that I'm not even sure this is being read. Somehow, that makes my writing even more honest. And if someone does happen to read it, well, they can always close the tab and I will continue typing in anonymity once again. It's strange the coping methods one develops when you lose grasp of the primary object keeping you sane. Sometimes ironically enough, that object which you need the most is the one you most take for granted. For everyone it's different. Me? I lost my remote control.

To understand what goes on in my head, I guess I would have to say that I deal with a little bit of a fear of abandonment. If I was still under the age of ten they would probably call it separation anxiety. I don't like to be alone. The irony of this is that it is my nature to keep people at a distance at all times; if they aren't close to me, they can't very well desert me. For a few people I've let this wall down. And that is why I am lonely tonight.

Don't think that I'm writing this because I think that someone in cyber-world actually gives a rip about my unstable, phobia-prone emotions. I'm writing this because if they can relate at all, they should know they aren't the only one. Anyways, back to coping methods. Writing has always kind of hung out on the back burner of my interests, coming forward usually when a literary assignment is required, though that hasn't happened much since high school, or when something happens that sends me into a peeved off rant. Lately, I write everything down. I write letters daily, keep a journal, keep another journal about my culinary endeavors separately, and also give love to two blogs alternately.

I spend a lot of time at the gym. Running has always soothed me through most every situation for the last few years. I know it's been said before, but sweating is somehow therapeutic. Usually I run alone, but lately I've been enjoying the comradeship of fellow body odor challenged, endorphin junkies at my gym. Hours can pass and feel like minutes..there is something about pushing yourself to the max and not breaking that gives you confidence to face the rest of your day.

The kitchen has been calling my name hourly. Not in the eating way, in fact, I'm rather the opposite when it comes to stress eating, because I don't. I create lists and organize recipes and arrange shopping lists so that even the black hole of culinary arts, into which I pour my endless creative energy, is tightly controlled and regulated. My life becomes a series of lists, and to-do's put into perfect chronological order, and color coded priorities neatly posted where they will catch my eye.

It is epically important for me to keep a strong front. Happy/smiley photos duly posted, comical comments and messages to caring friends are timely measured out. I'm doing great, I'm fine. My earrings are organized by color. I'm fantastic, hanging in there. My next week is scheduled into 20 minute increments to ensure maximum productivity. I'm fan-freaking-dandy. I just spent the last two hours reading labels and recipes to make sure I am not accidentally ingesting whichever food product I'm currently eschewing from my life. I'm smiling, I'm laughing. I'm fooling you.

My entire life is a series of steps to set up buffers around me, behind which I will hide to keep away from all preventable failures. My biggest fear would be losing control of the screen across which I play the clips of my life that I wish to be seen. But guess what I've gone and done? I dropped the remote into someone elses' hands. You notice you can never quite control your movie without the remote, because the player doesn't have all the buttons. Scenes you bored with meander by, scenes that hurt to watch crawl by, because without a ready skip or mute button the entire movie is going to play.

Maybe that's why tonight I'm a little more honest. It might be better if this post just meanders on unnoticed, and gets buried under epic tales of hamsters and pumpkin cheesecake and moose on my morning runs. Or maybe tonight I'm writing this to keep me honest. Honesty is the only coping method I haven't organized.

An apple a day may kill you

No, this is not another note on the nutritional benefits pertaining to whatever food I am currently obsessed with. This is one of those notes where I rant about the item I am currently perturbed with. So if you don't want to know, go back to what you were doing; UNLESS you are reading this blog on an Iphone. The notorious item of the day would be Apple. Not the literal, full of fiber and vitamin C fruit that grows in warmer climates and (pre-pesticides) is actually rather good for you; I mean the Apple that invented, among many things, the Iphone.

Today it snowed, quite a bit; not uncommon considering I live a fair distance from the equator. On my way home from the gym I had taken into consideration the present weather conditions, and committed to driving accordingly. Good thing too, because along came two moose, hop-trot-skipping across the trail known as the freaking highway of death to all creatures of nature. I noticed them. I also noticed the oncoming blue F-350 that did not notice the moose. I layid on my horn and flashed my lights, trying to get their attention. The driver, a man, looks up just in time, misses the moose by swerving towards me, misses me by over-correcting into a graciously unoccupied lane, and then is gone. I continue on.

Two seconds later it hit me: he had to look up. Facebook probably already knows this guy almost hit a moose.

There are an uncomfortably frequent number of times where I am stopped at an intersection and glance over into another car idling beside me, and see the driver on their phone. Usually an Iphone. The light turns green, and nine times out of ten the driver releases their foot from the brake before putting down their phone. And I'm like, seriously? I would love for you to run into me. I'd sue you for enough money that you would be reduced to snail mail for communication. I bet you wouldn't be writing a letter while waiting for a left turn.

Review a drivers ed course, especially the part where they talk about the wind shield and its useful function of being looked through. There should be a mandatory phone holder installed in all cars. Like a breathalyzer, you wouldn't be able to start your vehicle unless your phone was safely put away. Or perhaps phones should sense when they are moving at more than 15 mph, and lock themselves until the driver can somehow verify that they are buckled in and paying attention. There has to be an app for that.

So do everyone a favor, you apple-every-second-of-the-day-people. Please put your phones down when behind the wheel. I don't want to choke on your apple.