Bluebird Down

The pursuit of domestic bliss, one glorious debacle at a time.

What Came First, the Apple or the Burpee? June 17, 2013

I’m soaking my fruit in vinegar. Have you seen this on Pinterest? I’m giving it a try since I spent a third of my grocery bill on blueberries, cherries and peaches. I tried a cherry mid-soak to make sure it wasn’t going to turn out like some bastardized version of vodka soaked fruit. It wasn’t. The vinegar rinsed right off. (Which is weird, right?)

So I bought the cherries and bypassed the chocolate chip cookies because it’s time to get my eating on track. My meal plans have to transition to timely visits to the grocery then to actual meals made in the kitchen. Tricky how it all depends on the other.

And it’s time to get my eating on track because I’m spending a lot of my time in the gym… and something isn’t clicking. I can hold a plank like a beast. I can do a decent squat. I can savasana with the best. And, yet, my curves roll on.

Here’s the summer training schedule:
Monday: Train with Kristin (personal trainer), Yoga with Kate
Tuesday: HEAT (a functional fitness training class – lots of planks, burpees, jacking jacks, that sort of thing), Cycling
Wednesday: Train with Kristen, Yoga with Kelli, Couch to 10K with Running Club (Wednesday are going to be tough!)
Thursday: HEAT, Cycling
Friday: Couch to 10K
Saturday: Cycling, Yoga with Katherine
Sunday: Yoga with Kimber, Couch to 10K with Running Club

When I was little, Richard Simmons had a TV exercise show. I distinctly remember Richard saying, “It’s OK to eat a candy bar sometimes. You just have to work off an extra 200 calories that day.” (Apparently candy bars were only 200 calories in the 1970’s.) I’d say that was true when I was 20 years old. It’s not so true now. And I bet Richard Simmons knows it.

Kristin posted on Facebook today, “You can’t out train your fork.” Which means run as far as you want, lift as many weights as you want, but you aren’t going to get fit unless your eating gets right. Dang it.



It’s a good thing I love to eat healthy as much as I love to eat chocolate chip cookies. Last night I had a genuine healthy meal victory: balsamic pork tenderloin and sauteed kale with tomato and avocado salad. You should try it. It was delicious.

Hey, and guess what, I’m running the Rock n Roll Half Marathon next April. So you’ll hear a lot about training this summer. You’ll hear a lot about food. And, in between, life will still go on, so you’ll probably hear a few stories about severed limb near-misses during the bathroom and back yard renovations. Hooray!


Post 2 of 68
Days Until Half Marathon: 300


I’m *huge* in Germany. June 12, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized,Writing — Teri @ 3:23 pm

As a teenager and a Gen X 20-something, I was obsessed with music — buying music, live music, MTV (yes, we all know that was before The Real World ruined… well, the world), reading about music, I loved it all. I hung out with a crowd that obsessed over music. And in that crowd, there was always one kid in the crowd who would pull the most obscure, crap band out of the pile and proclaim it as the next ____________________ (Fill in the blank with The Beatles, Sex Pistols, Rolling Stones, the Hoff.) Every time. The piece de resistance for the inevitable argument was, “Dude, they are *huge* in Germany!” (Or Japan. In the mind of the American teenager, the two are indistinguishable.)

I had a flashback to those arguments during a conversation recently. One of my former professors asked me how my writing was going. Seriously, my cheeks flashed hot. I fumbled with words to write back to her that, well, yeah, I had kinda didn’t do much with it. I told her I had a blog for a while, but I didn’t really have anything to say anymore. I told her I had freelanced for a local paper for a while, but reporting wasn’t really my thing. I told her I can write a mean grant proposal… and I’m *huge* in Germany!

I thought back to my classes with her. She would give back papers by slamming them on your desk and then with her finger jabbing at the paper, say, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” If she didn’t like a passage, it would come with a note to see her during office hours. Then you would sit beside her as she had you dissect your own writing and do it better. She would tell me I had natural ability. When I would demure, she would burst out, “You have a voice, Miss. USE IT.” Grammar and sentence structure can be taught, she said. Writing with a true voice is a gift, she said. But still you must write, she said. Or the voice will become a whisper. (Yeah, she had a flare for the dramatic.)

Her response to my feeble email was short. “I could wax poetic about wasted opportunity, but I will just send this instead:”

Apparently a picture is worth a thousand words.

Apparently a picture is worth a thousand words.

Above her signature it said, “I expect a writing sample from you tomorrow.”

Sixty-eight days of summer with a blog post for every day. One down, 67 to go…