Just When I Think I Have Him Pegged...

One of the things I love most about my husband is that he endlessly surprises me. There is rarely a dull moment around this man. He always says (and does) just what he thinks (often in real time) and appreciates "life in the moment". Unlike me, he doesn't have the tendency to slip into auto-pilot mode and mindlessly "routine" it through the day. He is a child at heart and is continually fascinated and fascinating. While I love him for it, his devil may care approach to life can, at times, butt up against my relentless determinsm to go, go, go and do, do, do. You runners out there know which of us requires running, its routine and utter ass kickery, to take the edge off.

Imagine my surprise, a few months ago when Tarlac said he was down to do the San Antonio half-marathon. You know I was simply giddy inside but did not want to scare him away by overzealously welcoming him to my world with a smothering embrace. I offered any and all support which he politely declined indicating he would do it all on his own.

While Tarlac does take care of a lot of important things in our relationship such as making sure I don't throw myself off a cliff when the grocery store is out of my particular brand of soymilk, I have to remind him to do just about any and all of his daily tasks. For every reminder set for myself, a corresponding one is set for Tarlac from the important to asanine. So, excuse me if I don't seem supportive when I say I had more than a small amount of doubt that he would pull it off on his own without my support (aka: mind numbing nagging).

However, the kid proved me wrong. Between Sept. to Nov., just about every day when I walked in from the office, Tarlac was finishing off a run or some cross traning. He even came on a few long runs with me and the other Gazelles. As we approached Nov., he even "dropped the bomb" at the end of those runs and it was no long an easy effort for me to keep up.

The day of the half arrived and it was hardly ideal running conditions. Temperatures were in the mid 60s when we started with high humidity and T's running buddy (yours truly) was suffering from major PMS (that's kinda my half marathon calling card...I am 2 for 2 now). On top of that, he had learned the evening before that his dear Nana had passed away.

We met up with my tighter than tight running buddy, Tessa, and took our place in the chute. When I signed us up, I had way over estimated our finish time to be two hours. I had a feeling that he would be a lot faster that day and sure enough, he was. From the beginning to the end of the race we were weaving our way through the crowds averaging an 8:15 pace. I kept checking in and asking Tarlac how he was doing and it was clear, he was doing just fine. He was taking in the atmosphere and the crowds and loving it. As we approached the finish line, I perhaps was feeling more excited than I did when I was about to complete my first full marathon. The excitement was building, I was going to reach for Tarlac's hand and this poor sap in front of us collapsed and here is the other reason, I love my husband....

Whereas most people in his kicks would have dashed a few more paces and finished (especially since he won't admit it but just MAYBE he had something to prove to his running obsessed wife) but without missing a beat, Tarlac stopped and helped this guy to his feet until the medics could get out to him and only then did he finish the race. We crossed the line in 1:48:30 and T was full of energy. He was actually helping me due to my lady cramps. After that, he drove us home and was showered and ready to go to get his first post race grub on. I am happy to say he is hooked and already planning his next race. The sad part? That we won't be running together in future races because I will be eating his dust.

Me and MoWo Eat: Justine's

Me and MoWo (the best eating and drinking pal a girl could have) went to Justine’s deeeep in the heart of east Austin last week. Oh….my….god. What can I say? It’s the whole flippin package (well at least everything that’s important in my pants):

• Ambiance: Justine’s is in the cutest little house (built in 1937) east of I-35. It’s cozy and candlelit on the inside and the real vinyl records being played is a nice touch among many of “just the little things”. We sat inside because it was still muggy and overcast but I can’t wait to get back to enjoy the huge patio and play a round of petanque now that fall is here.

• Service: Every single member of the wait staff we encountered from hostess to bartender, our waitress and the busboy (who directed me to the bathroom when I looked lost) was gracious. Our server managed that perfect balance between getting us just what we wanted when we wanted it without being invasive or rushing us through our meal. In fact, we were there for a little over three hours and never felt encouraged to give up our table even though the place was packed with plenty of peeps waiting for a spot.

• And uh…the food: 1.) Escargots a la Bourguignonne: Gorgeous, buttery and garlicky… 2.) Filet de Poisson: This was red snapper in a buerre blanc w/ green beans. The snapper was perfectly pan seared (nice and crispy on the outside just like I like). 3.) The motherf*&king crème brulee: This is what they are known for and I can see why. The crème was cremalishous (super rich and creamy) with crunchy sugary shell with just the right slate like consistency. Get you some of this. My poor colleague went upon my recommendation and they were outta the stuff by 7:00 pm. They open at 6:00 pm, y’all. That should tell you what a hot commodity this stuff is.

• Bang for the buck: For all that divine food and ahem…a cocktail and some wine, I was outta there for only $40. That ain’t bad for a lovely night out for good food, good drink and good company.

ACL Old Foggy Style

Talk about the perfect storm of hand placement, trusting Tarlac with the camera and my utter failure at being cool...there are so many things wrong with this picture that I don’t even know where to start. Talk amongst yourselves.

This weekend, I am doing what I swore I would never do again…attend the ACL festival. However, I was fortunate enough to luck into some VIP passes meaning I am resting in style in the VIP Grove between shows. This gives me access to free drinks, free food, misters, shade, air conditioned and CLEAN bathrooms and even spa treatments. Yes, it’s a delight and yes, all that freedom is leading to excess. Example: my sis-in-law, Camille, and I upon having our first free cocktail say to each other… “Oh, let’s keep each other honest and pace ourselves. This could be dangerous.” Second drink… “You know what a better plan is? Drink as much as we can back here so we have a good buzz when we are watching the shows.” And as if that plan doesn’t sound dodgy enough, it then turned into.. “You know…we could just pour cocktails in these thermoses and drink those when we are at the shows.” You may notice that I am not mentioning anything about Tarlac. That’s because he had no fear of excess and this is how the night ended for him…

Camille and I taking turns holding him by his shirt, shuffling out with the masses. Unable to support the weight of his own head, he kept letting his own cranium fall down onto my head as well as Camille’s. He thought this was hiiiiiilarious…that Camille and I should come up with a plan to head butt him all the way home.

Seven is the Luckiest Number

Lucky turned seven this weekend. Well, that's what we guesstimate anyway. After all, we did find her...beat to shit and surviving the best she could on the streets six years ago. It is hard for me to remember her as she was then. Scared to death of anything and everything, scrawny as hell, scraped, cut, bleeding and missing a tooth. Of course, anyone with a piece of sausage in their hand could cut through her defenses and we have been doling them out steadily since she broke our hearts and made suckers out of us.

Therefore, it was timely that I found myself rescuing a stray dog earlier this week. Before Lucky, I might have turned a blind eye to the pooch racing insanely down the side of Manchaca in morning traffic during a downpour. But my evil black familiar has changed me and I love all things canine. Therefore, I set in motion an hour spent sprinting through the rain, tripping on a frog and muddying myself from tit to toe to secure the escapee in my backyard. Without any tags or means of identification, I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do with him. And Lucky said ain't no way on God's green earth is she sharing her home with any other dogs so that option was ruled out a long time ago. My friend, Pat Bancroft, from Blue Dog Rescue advised me what to do. It's great counsel so I am sharing here. Hopefully, it will come in handy should any of you be inclined to get a dog that doesn't need to be on the streets somewhere safe. I am sure these tips apply most anywhere but they are most relevant to Austin given what a great organization Town Lake Animal Center (TLAC) is with its low euthanasia numbers and a history of working with local animal rescue organizations.

• Determine if the dog is microchipped. This can be done by taking it to a vet or animal shelter.

• If the animal is injured or ailing, most emergency clinics will take care of them until the owner is found or they can be relocated to a shelter.

• If the animal is unidentifiable, TLAC is the best place to take them. Owners can find them there and if ill they will receive care. Animals at TLAC are not rushed to euthanasia and are held for at least three days and some longer. TLAC works closely with local rescue groups like Blue Dog to ensure adoptable animals find a home. It’s a big part of the reason they have great numbers.

• If you have a neighborhood listserv, post the found dog’s information there. Craig’s List is an option as well. Be sure and be a little discreet about some of the dog’s details and make the owner fill you in to ensure the dog belongs to them. Pat at Blue Dog indicated that many times, you will receive a call shortly after posting.