Flight of the "Nag-a-gator"

Today was one for the history books.

My husband and I took a flight together
With a 2-year-old.

It's bad enough that my husband and I, after 6 years of coupledom have never taken on the challenge of aiport travel (a good possibility why we're still happily married). But the fact that we took on this challenge by tossing our cranky two-year-old into the mix on an early flight stands to prove that despite everything Robert is the guy for me.

We made it to CA and I'm still alive right?

Yesterday was the start of my poor husband's decent into hell aka Kristin is stressed.

Not only was I trying to pack our toddler, myself and clean the house. I also had to make sure the cats were taken care of, the fridge was empty etc etc.

I was possessed.

Laundry was flying faster than Lighting McQueen on jet fuel. Clothes were being sorted, brooms were being weilded and my poor husband was being ordered around like a POW in a prison camp.

Imagine a very shrill voice shrieking "Robert! Can you sweep the kitchen?" "Robert! Can you put this in the garbage?" "Robert! Can you....." Robert! Robert! Robert?...."

I'm surprised he didn't take off for Mexico by that point.

At one point we took a break and took David to the park. It was wonderful. We went to eat, because, well, we didn't want to clean the kitchen.

And then all was lost.

As soon as I walk in the door it hit me. The smell of kitty pee.
After so many problems with ZZ in the past I can smell cat pee better than a bloodhound can sniff out a bag of doobie shoved up the butt of a monkey in Africa.
(ok I have an issue with Monkey's and butts don't I?)

I JUST KNOW

And lo and behold.... She peed alright... IN MY FRIGGING JUST WASHED AND FOLDED LAUNDRY!!!!!

Ohhhhhhh she was so lucky she's cute... that and we have more money invested in her than the real Zsa Zsa does in her shoe wardrobe.

Enter the return of the "Nag-a-gator"

By the time everything was said and done it was past midnight. The kiddo was asleep on the couch, my husband was watching Sports Center and I was wrapping up all the packing.

Unfortunatly, we had to get up at 4:30 a.m., leave by 5:30 a.m. to catch a 6 a.m. shuttle that takes 2 hours to get to the airport.

We were zombies.

David was not happy with being disturbed so early and went into full raging temper-tantrum mode. Why? He didn't want to change out of the dirty shirt he was wearing. (he's become so particular about his clothing lately)

So we gave up the good fight and off we went, dirty shirt and all to the airport.

David was great and slept the entire way, but as per the actual flight HA HA HA.

He was so hyper and animated about all the planes and trucks in sight, you would have thought we fed him 100 pixie sticks.

We took precautions and put him in an overnight diaper. The flight was just over and hour. I had two new Thomas engines, coloring supplies, goldfish, Nilla Wafers, juice, water.... we were set.

Expect for the fact he didn't want to be buckled in.

Note that this entire time the "Nag-a-gator" was in full swing.

"Robert can you...Robert do....Robert... Robert....Robert."

But I was issued some payback.

At one point as I was picking up one of the trains David had dropped the snot discovered the tray.

CLUNK! as it came crashing down on my head. SMASH!!! as he then grabbed it and slammed it back down on my head laughing hysterically.

I had barely recovered from that attack when I received a diecast (metal and heavy) train in my face.

I was shocked my nose wasn't bleeding or broken.

David then proceeded to go YEAH YEAH YEAH and chuck his binkie into the lap of the person sitting two rows in front of us....

Should I go on?

Well I know I should because it gets better.

Really.

The plane finally landed and we waited until almost all the passengers had deboarded to get our little guy and carryons off the plane. He was finally doing good.

And then I picked him up.

All I can say is that how the hell can an overnight diaper hold enough pee for 8 hours, when a kid is sleeping, yet fail after only an 1 1/2 hours when he's awake.

I apologize to whoever had David's seat on the next flight..... That dampness is from sweat.... honest.

If yarn were crack.....

I'd be in serious trouble.

Ok this post is in honor of Beth again.

I promised that I would take pictures of my insane yarn stash and post them so that she would have ammo if her husband ever got upset with her over her recent habit of buying yarn.


I imagine a conversation going like this"

Beth's hubby: Geez how much yarn do you need?
Beth: Well, you don't understand. There are just so many textures and colors and every time I see a new type of yarn I think of all the great things I can make....
Beth's hubby: This is getting a little out of hand (as he stares as her two little tubs of yarn)
Beth: Don't even start to say anything. If you want to see a true yarn stash check out Moose's closet(s) This is how you know you're a true addict (shows hubby pictures of yarn engulfing our house)
Beth's hubby: THUD!!! (as he hits the floor)

You get the picture. Whenever my friends talk about their yarn stashes and their husbands irritation with it I just invite them and their husband over... problem solved.

Thankfully my husband is wonderful about my addiction to yarn. In fact he supports and encourages it. Why? Because crocheting has been the one thing that has helped me during these dark times of depression. He sees how happy I am when I'm working with a new yarn, laughs when I struggle and cuss at one.
There is nothing more exhilarating than seeing the look of amazement on my hubby's face when I whip out a new design or project.
Here is a man who works on nuclear reactors. A nuclear electrician who flew through one of the hardest schools in the navy without a problem telling me he's in awe of my abilities. ME.

Nothing beats that feeling.

He did, however, have a sort of intervention with me, when we realized we were losing things (ahem the cats) behind my massive yarn piles.

"Hey" I protested "The cats aren't complaining right... where's the problem"
"The problem?" my hubby replied "The problem is that somewhere in that black hole of a closet we have some wine. By the time we dig ourselves out enough to reach it, it will be vinegar."

Not much of a drinker it took a few seconds for the little light bulb to go on.

Ding! wine = relaxed wife = affectionate wife = lucky husband. AHA!

So for the sake of our marriage and my husband sanity last weekend I went through my stash and pulled out as much yarn that I knew I would never use.

AKA crummy Red Heart Super Saver that was given to me by someone else trying to get rid of it. Note: the three boxes of yarn on the porch are what I got rid of. It was a lot of yarn.

Also note: How much I still have left.

As for the pictures, the closet is of my office. There is yarn in every nook and cranny, color-coded, project divided and sorted by type etc.
The closet under the stairs holds my yarn bag with current projects and the bins containing the yarn for three sweaters.

Do you think they have a yarn-a-holics anonymous?

When something stinks....and it's you

Today was a pretty down day.

Well actually forget down, I was so far under I broke the earth's surface and found myself in China.

I became immersed with what I believe was my first full blown anxiety attack.

My ears were ringing (although in the end it helped block out the bs I was listening to.
My heart was racing
I wanted to throw up
And I wanted to run.

I wanted to run so far away so fast, that I would have made the Flash look like a turtle.
I wanted to be Waldo in a Where's Waldo competition for the blind.

You get the picture.

The only way I can describe what triggered this episode is that I somehow felt like I was a stinky pair of bowling shoes.

You know you don't like them, but you're going to pretend you do because that's how you play the game.

If you think you're better than me, don't pretend to be nice to me.
If you want my respect don't stand next to me and look right through me.
And lastly, watch what you say because someone is always listening.

I must have looked like a spastic monkey trying to leave the situation. I had hit that hyperactive cheerleader energy level - that level you hit when you are trying not to cry in public.

My husband was home when I walked through the door and the poor guy, after all he's had to deal with had to listen to me cry about how stupid I felt. How I wasn't sure if I fit in and how did I get to this point?

To top it off the freaking phone kept ringing... and ringing....and RINGING. With a broken caller ID there was no possible way I was playing the Russian Roulette phone game. Then my cell started ringing.

All I wanted was to be left alone.

I didn't want to talk about how I felt....well I did, but I've learned from horrible experiences that often those who jump to let you vent to them are the first to spread it around.

Listen to me. I've become so cynical I make Ebenezer Scrooge look like Santa Claus.

This California vacation can't come soon enough. I need a break - fast.

Never Give Up!

Ok.

I've come to realize that I've NEVER made my husband anything in terms of crochet.
I think because of his picky nature I didn't want to risk spending money (with me being a yarn snob and all) on something that would sit in his closet.

But then I found a pattern that just screamed ROBERT CAN WEAR ME GOLFING!!!!!

It was this awesome zip up sweater vest in the Stitch N Bitch for men book.

The vest was a navy blue with orange in the book.

At the time Robert was out to sea and nearing his 30th birthday.

"Great!" I thought. "I can make this as a birthday surprise. He'll love it"

HA!

I went out and bought some Cascade 220 superwash in his favorite color (forest green)
I bought some quatro army green to replace the orange in the pattern.

The colors were smashing. Or at least that's what my knitting circle gals said.

And then I heard that voice. A little squeak coming from the back of my brain that I like to call the "It's Robert remember" voice.

So after a good few weeks of attempting to start this vest, only to hear this voice every time I picked up my hook, I decided I'd better wait until he got home.

And yet again the voice was right.

Yeah my husband loved the vest... BUT

Could I add sleeves to it.

Does it have to be green? Well yeah it's my favorite color but..... Ummmmmmm can I have you make it in CAL colors (as in CAL Berkeley football)

Oh! And can you ummmm make my brother Matt one too.

The kicker here is the yarn for just one sweater totalled about $100.

So add this up.

I had already bought the green yarn totalling about $110

I then go buy CAl colored yarn, factor in I need extra for sleeves :$130

Because I bought all of Caroline's stash of the navy blue at Wild N Wooly she had to order more

Factor in that Robert's brother is a size larger :$140

This is starting to become one expensive project.

So I sit down to start Robert's sweater two night ago. I've already discovered that the Stitch N Bitch books are unfortunatly very poorly edited and not very clear when it comes to direction. I usually find myself going to www.ravelry.com to look for corrections or tips from other people who have struggled through the patterns.

I chain the correct number - that's easy, no problem

Then I attempt to start Row 1. First of all it's a linked stitch which I've always heard about but never had actually attempted. Second of all, the description on how to do this stitch, sucked monkey butt.

Not to toot my own horn, but I don't fancy myself as a novice crocheter. I can usually figure things out. What I ended up with was reminicant of what I would have produced back when I was five.

My stitches were gnarles and wonky. The yarn was tangled up to the point I couldn't "frog" it.

I was so ticked off.

I was just about to give up on the project all together ($300 plus in yarn and all) when the voice of a fellow Homefronter popped into my head.

Bethjt: Hey youtube has the coolest videos showing you how to do crochet stuff!

This was when she was learning how to add a brim to a beanie, which I might add she does an AMAZING job at.

So I took a chance and what do you know! There was a video showing me how to do the stitch. And it was DUH simple.

So needless to say, the lesson learned here is don't give up. And don't buy yarn before you've talked to the person who are making the project for.

When life seems out of control

So I'm finally going to admit something that I've been keeping inside for a long time.

Yep a serious post folks.

I really don't like myself. It's to the point I'm not sure I would be even friends with me if I were someone else.

I hate how I care too much about what other people think of me.
I hate how I'm too quick to rush into new friendships or relationships only to realize that perhaps I'm only riding that rush the newness these friendships give you, rather than really getting to know people and how true they really are.

I hate how angry I am all the time and how emotionally up and down I am. I've become a bitch. The very type of person I never wanted to be.

I hate how I'm always depressed and struggle just to get out of bed in the morning and put on a happy face.

I hate how when I finally do try to talk to people about it, they blow me off or talk about me behind my back.

I hate how I can never find a group of women friends without at some point feeling like I've stepped back into high school, where everyone talks about everyone else and the "popular" crowd merely tolerates the "wannabees" How people bounce from one group to the other fueling the fire - me included.

I hate how I make my husband feel. His once happy wife is now a depressed nagger who would rather let the house collapse around her than deal with anything. If he only knew how much it breaks my heart to watch him try to hold it all together.

Basically I'm full of hate and I don't know why.

I honestly thought it was my birth control and I do think the extra hormones had a factor in everything. But lets face it...it's more than that.

But when I went to the doctor to get help, I was basically told I was wasting their time, given a renewal for said BC and shoved out the door in 10 minutes.

It left me feeling even more emotionally bruised. It's left me unwilling to talk to anyone about how I feel. Because if the doctor didn't think there was a problem then it must be all in my head right?

I have two very good friends that I know I can talk to. One of which understands me completely for she's been here before. Yet, it only makes me feel guilty when I vent to her.

There comes a point where I realize that all I do is complain and bitch about my life or the situations the upset me. I'm a downer to be around. And for those I've bitched or vented to I apologize.

It took me a long time to not care what people thought of me. To actually like myself and somehow I've slid back down the hill of self-confidence.

As I've rolled back down that hill I've gained weight, I've stopped writing. I no longer find crocheting or Moose Threads as exciting as it once was. I don't care about what I look like.

Yesterday, I realized I'd hit the bottom of the hill, when for the first time in our six years of being together my husband and I had a real fight.

Not a tiff, spat, argument, or disagreement -- a FIGHT.

Cruel words were said, screaming ensued. Things were thrown, the F-word was tossed around like it was the latest catch-phrase.

And I told him to leave.

I actually told the love of my life to leave.

When all was said and done my husband and I just looked at each other stunned. How did it get to this? What happened? It ended with him holding me as I sobbed and sobbed.
I never really even cry so for me to be sobbing to the point I couldn't catch my breath and my entire body was shaking you know there is a problem.

And I realized it was time to admit what was really going on, hence this post.

So here it is. It's out in the open and either you can be there for me and help me or use this to talk crap behind my back. The choice is yours. I'm no longer going to sit back and let myself go.

It's time to Merge or get run over because starting right now I'm climbing back up that hill of self-confidence, even if I have to get bruised and bloody emotionally to do so.

When Toddlers Attack

Let me start by saying that I love my son. LOVE him LOVE him LOVE him.

But if a pharmaceutical company found some way to bottle his energy, they would have the No.1 birth control product in the world.

After hearing stories of how my husband and our siblings were as children I have now concluded that the only reason our parents had us two or less years apart is that that they didn't know what was to come.

They hadn't yet experienced THE TODDLER YEARS (imagine these words being said in a booming movie voice with the Twilight Zone sound track in the background)


David turned 2 in March and I'm still looking for the little switch on his body that was flipped on, turning him into a little hellion.

Nothing is safe.
If he can't reach it, he'll find something that will help him do so.

If he can't get in it, he'll find a way to bust it open, including tossing is wrestler style onto the hardwood floor.

His favorite phrases are stop or no, usually said red-faced and at full volume, his finger pointing at you in defiance.

(It probably doesn't help that I always bust out laughing during one of these episodes, making him more upset. Yes it's not the best way to parent but I can't help it. It's funny.)

The cats are now his wrestling buddies - things he tries to chase and body slam. Their tails are handles for pulling not petting.

Mommy's knees aren't meant to help hold her up or walk. Didn't you know they are there for football practice. Forget using those silly football sleds to practice tackling when an unsuspecting mommy will do.

Besides, she provides a much more exciting reaction upon hitting the floor with a thud.

Above you will find pictures of David's latest sneak attack, and alas there was irreversible damage. One was maimed for life, the other stomped to death.

Why he felt the need to take a bite out of the forehead of my Styrofoam hat model I will never know, but thankfully it's in a spot where I can cover it up.

Can you imagine me trying to sell hats on ETSY with this?
"Yes folks, this hat is the perfect way to emphasize those bite marks left behind from your latest night out...."

Yeah don't think so.

The other picture is of what were the hamburger buns I was going to use for dinner that night.

Apparently David felt that eating them was just too tame. Instead he decided to have a stomp and shred fest in the middle of the living room.


And people wonder why he is an only child....

Monday Crockpot Madness

Crockpot Pot Roast

This is one of my husband favorites.

He's super picky so the fact that he likes this is great.


What you need:

1 pot roast
1 packet onion soup mix
1 can condensed cream of mushroom or celery soup
2 tsp chopped garlic
1/2 cup red wine
3/4 cup beef broth
Carrots
Red potatoes


Salt and pepper and brown your pot roast on both sides

Place in crock pot.
Toss in garlic, soup and onion soup mix
Pour in broth and wine

Place carrots around pot roast

Cook on low 2-3 hours

Add potatoes about 2 hours before serving.

Enjoy!

Not so Project Wonderful

Ok so I have snobby yarn tastes.

With the amount of money I have spent on my yarn addiction I could send David to college and he's not even 3 yet.

There is one yarn brand that I love called Noro. It's a Japanese product and comes in a variety of insane colorways and a very natural texture (aka skinny, fat, skinny fat)


So with my recent sock obsession I purchased two skeins that were totally different colorways. One that from the outside appeared to be purples, blacks and greens.
The other yellows, greens and pinks.

There was a ton of yardage on each skein (400 +) and it was $21 a skein.

Great! I thought. I can make myself some awesome socks.

Turns out that while the yarn is great for KNITTING socks. It sucks monkey butt (as my husband would say) to CROCHET socks with.

It didn't allow enough give to get the socks on and it was not easy to "frog" aka "ripout" when I messed up.

But this is me and I am cheap and stubborn. I refused to let this expensive yarn defeat me.

So I decided I was going to make a blanket with this yarn, which later turned into a scarf because I was lazy and got tired of fighting with it.

Because the yarn was of such a fine weight, I doubled up the skeins. Note how different I mentioned the colorways were.

This yarn self stripes so as I was progressing through this project I found myself crocheting with navy and peach, pink and puke green etc etc.

It was the oddest combination of colors ever.

My husband said it looked like someone ate a bunch of skittles and then got sick.

And thus the "Barf Scarf" had it's name.

I hated this scarf. It was a project that the more I worked on it, the more I hated it.

Yet for some reason, wherever I took this hideous project people loved it.

At knitting circle they raved about the unique colorwork, the textures, the stripes.

A friend called it "Bohemian"and "Inviting" Another deemed it "Explosive and Energetic"

I personally called it "Hippy Hurl Chic"

But sadly I must admit that my love for this scarf only came about for one reason -- money.

Yep, before I could even post it on Etsy I sold it. One of those friends bought it from me.

I guess it is true, one woman's trash is another one's treasure.

5K FEVER!

Ok so I ran another 5K and it was, I must admit, a fantastic self-esteem booster.

It was 3.5 instead of 3.1 miles and I finished in 45:45. Improving my overall mile time.

My ego has needed a good swift kick in the rear for quite a while now. Lately my self-worth has been in the gutter with thoughts of:

I'm too fat
I'm not "popular" enough
I'm not a wonderful mom
I'm not a good friend
AKA I'm not PERFECT

Etc Etc.

Basically, I've been at the lowest I think I've ever been in my life in terms of valuing me as a person.

But thankfully I do have Karen.

A friend who not only has become a workout buddy at a time when Poptarts preceded pushups in my vocabulary, but who has become a support.

Not a support to lean and rest on, but one to push off and gain strength from.

She never tries to one-up me, or rub her successes in my face.

She encourages me to challenge myself, no matter how large or small the goal.

She's help me find something in me that I thought I lost long ago - the healthy athlete.

Well, I've chisled enough of the gloom away to see the athlete. Keep your fingers crossed I can uncover the healthy part over the next few months as well.

Here's so all my wonderful friends and family who keep me going!

Yummy Crock pot Chicken

Growing up with a Sicilian father and a mother whose family hails from Oklahoma, I never really learned how to cook using exact measurements. I tend to instead cook by taste and feel. Note my measurements are guesstimates on how much I use.

So here is my recipe for crock pot chicken. It's been a huge hit with my picky husband. He LOVES it and I hope you do too!

1 whole Fryer chicken 3-5 pounds
2 cloves of garlic minced (if you have the kind in the jar that's about two heaping spoonfuls)
1 small yellow onion - diced
2 cups of baby carrots
1 cup peas
2 celery ribs -chopped
1/4 cup chicken broth
1/4 cup white wine

Clean the chicken and toss out any innards.
Salt and pepper every inch of your chicken (generously)

Place chicken breast-side up in crock pot

Toss in garlic (spread is over top of chicken and around sides)

Toss in onion.

Arrange veggies around chicken (it may seem like a tight fit but everything will cook down)

Pour in white wine and chicken broth.

Cover and cook on low for 6 hours

or

Cook on high for 3-4 hours, depending on size of your chicken.

When done, remove chicken and strain veggies and place in bowl. Whisk in corn starch to make a gravy with juices.

Serve with either rice of mashed potatoes.

So BAAAAAAAD

Well actually I think my little lamb looks pretty good.

I was recently given the challenge -- ok well I was begging for creative inspiration -- from a wonderful Homefronter wwww.sygnetcreations.etsy.com

I must confess I had a blast making this little guy. However, I did decide to add a little face to him after careful examination made me realize that instead of looking cute and cuddly, his lack of face instead made him look a little scary.

I pictured myself having nightmares filled with BAAAAAing sheep that somehow were reenacting scenes from Children of the Corn IV or something of equally B-quality.

I'm almost done with the red hat upon which this little guy will graze. Its being constructed out of a wickedly soft washable wool and will feature a brim. (yeah I admit it now. I'm not so bad at them after all)

Let me know what you think.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words...

Holy Cow!

Talk about shocked.

I mean I knew I had gained a ton of weight but man does my face look like a chipmunks.

Well ok, using a cookie as an accessory combined with a slightly cross-eyed dorky smile probably wasn't the best choice....but still.

Oh and do you like my hat? I was again attempting to make a brim. I guess I just look odd with brimmed hats on. My son looked cute in it, despite the fact it looked like Strawberry Shortcake threw up on his head.

So what I want to know is what do you think of this hat.... if you picture it on a very cute toddler girl and not the female version of the StayPuff Marshmallow Man. Do I have a future as a brimmed hat-maker-upper?

Cookie? What Cookie?

I've come to a realization.

Who needs government spies when all you have to do is send a bunch of toddlers to do the dirty work.

Not only are they small, but they are great when it comes to stealing things right under people's noses.

David is a very large and very loud 2-year-old. However, when it comes to getting to where and to what he wants, he instantly transforms into James Bond (He may be two but he knows how to use those baby blues when it comes to fooling people into helping him in his conquests)

We recently forked over $225 to have a double-lock deadbolt installed. Why? Because in the amount of time it took my husband to take a leak, David managed to climb off the couch, unlock the door, run across the deck, down the steps and all the way down the street to the neighbors.

Did I mention we live on a gravel road.

On the Hood Canal.

Off a major two-lane Highway.

A few days before his great escape I caught the bugger shoving one of our indoor-only cats out the front door. She was so scared she took off into the raccoon, possum-filled woods behind our house, that butt up against the highway.

I was in a quandary.

Either chase after Maggie and risk David shoving ZZ out the door - or even worse - locking me out of the house. Or stick my head out the window and yell for Maggie like crazy in the hopes that she, who has never been outside, will have enough common sense to run back toward the house.

Luckily she's the smart Gabor sister and within a few minutes she came running back.

All snack food in our house has also had to be put under lock and key. David has this special talent of making noisy, crinkly plastic bags magically go silent upon laying his hands on them.

These pictures are from a few days ago.

Note the COSTCO-size bag of Nilla Wafers. Also note his smirky grin as he proceeds to shove several cookies in his mouth, despite having just been caught. Talk about not cracking under interrogation.

Like I said.

Who needs Mr. and Mrs. Smith, with Agents Pampers and Huggies on your side.

They aren't all picture perfect

In terms of crochet success I haven't had much of it in the past week.

A baby blanket I attempted to make for a friend got away from me to the point it was beyond frogging and starting over. An attempt at a new hat design didn't pan out and then of course there is my absolute favorite:

Adding a brim to a beanie.

Yep I can freehand anything it seems but for some reason I can not for the life me of make a brimmed beanie without making the wearer look like a sad 12-year-old boy - AKA me.

However, this is also probably where I should admit that all of my attempts were between 1 and 2 a.m. while watching Eddie and the Cruisers II. All I can say is I can now conclude that drinking Red Bull at 8 p.m. isn't perhaps the best idea I've ever had.

What bums me out is I did, however, make another very cute skull and cross bones applique, complete with little heart eyes. Yet, by sewing it onto my pathetic brimmed beanie attempt I somehow turned my badass skull into "cutsy" accessory.

But Rome wasn't built in a day and neither was my crocheting abilities. I've never let a pattern or design defeat me yet.

I will conquer this brimmed beanie. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but hell I'll figure it out someday.

Let's just hope it's before I'm 90.

I did it!

Whoo hoo!

Me. Yes me, who thinks you should only run when chased finished a 5K.

I must say aside from labor it was perhaps the hardest thing I've ever physically had to do.

This wasn't your flat-coursed type of 5K either. Nor did I have months to prepare.

Instead, this was a hilly, sandy, muddy and even pine-cone trail-filled 5K and I had 1 - yes 1- week to prepare.

I finished in 43 minutes on the nose. Not the most glamorous time, but hey I'll take it. I will hang that number proudly above my treadmill as a reminder of where I started.

Because although I wanted to cry, throw up and even quit during today's adventure, when it was all said in done I wanted more.

Right now, despite my sore thighs, aching arms and screaming feet I am signing myself up for a few more races over the next few months.

I don't care if I come in first, nor do I care if I come in last. All that matters is that I challenge myself and come out stronger than I was before.

Thank you Karen for giving me a shove in the right direction!