Better Late Than Never...

SUNDAY Sunday Sunday....DECEMBER December December...14 14 14

Nikki Andoga finished the White Rock Half Marathon in 2 hours and 24 minutes!!! That's right, 13.1 miles at about an 11 minute mile pace. That doesn't account for the two bathroom stops or the horrendous wind we had to run against for most of the course, but it does reflect the 7 minutes it took for me and Philip to actually cross the starting line.

The day was actually pretty exciting, despite the fact that we had to be up at 5:45. Pre-race was only semi-madness...17,000 people had signed up to run the Half/Full Marathon, so needless to say, Victory Park was jam-packed. I have a slight crowd/claustrophobia issue, so Philip steered me directly into American Airlines Center where we waited for the sun to rise and Blake to meet us. The whole AAC was open to racers and few of them were taking advantage of it, so we found seats and ate our Power Jelly Bellies (goo-type energy sustaining grossness disguised as jelly-bellies. See, real runners eat this kind of stuff before long runs. I eat bagels or peanut butter crackers. But since I'm attempting to be a real runner, I figure I might as well eat the real runner food. Plus Blake bought it for me.). Once Blake found us we joined the thousands of others at the start line, sang the national anthem, then started! Of course my bladder decided by mile two that enough was enough and I had to stop at a gas station. Philip went on ahead, which partly accounts for his slightly faster time of 2:05. That, and he runs faster than me.

The race itself was pretty uneventful. There were people EVERYWHERE along the course...garage bands playing Christmas music, police escorts, friends and family cheering on racers, even people handing out everything from toilet paper to beer to cigarettes to bananas. Mom and dad were there to cheer me on, and Blake was at the finish line ready with McDonald's, water, and Vitamin Water. Philip and I headed straight for the beer corral once we had hydrated and taken our victory pictures. Then we headed inside the AAC for more beer. Then back to the beer corral for more beer. Beer was EVERYWHERE. Which may be why we couldn't find the parking lot with his car in it. Once we did, though, we headed to Massage Envy for TWO HOUR MASSAGES. That was the best idea EVER. The rest of the day was pretty much a blur-I was tired after all the getting up before the sun then running like Forrest for two plus hours. I think I went home and went to bed. With my medal on. Yes, I'm a freak.

Thanks to everyone for their texts, emails, and phone calls expressing your support and encouragement. More proof (as if I needed it!) that I have the best friends and family in the world!

Mom attempted to get a picture of me crossing the finish line. Instead, she got a picture of me crossing into the view of the camera lens (look waaaaaaay to the left).

The triumphant friends with McDonald's and medals.

The beer corral. Finally, a real smile from Philip. I'm thinking, man, is beer a good idea after 13.1 miles? The answer is YES.

Cookie Day (WARNING: The following account is long but true)

For the first time in my life I find myself approaching the holidays with a solid job, long-held friends in the same state and nearly the same zip code, and a boyfriend who makes me giddy with happiness. So of course I am diving into Christmas with unusual verve, since it's my favorite holiday and I love all the silly things you can do for other people with the excuse that "It's Christmas!". Last year, in the midst of recovering from my break-up induced depression, I attacked the after Christmas sales determined to buy little knicknacks for next year, hoping that I would have people (preferably office folk or good friends) to give them to. Well, it worked. So I decided to fill the pretty little bowls I found with home-baked goodies.


Okay, if you don't know me well, then I have to warn you. I'm

1. not a baker (I tend to be improvisational in my cooking, and baking isn't really responsive to "just another dash of" whatever)


2. extremely clutzy


3. not much of a cleaner-upper (I swear there is a fairy dishmother who comes in the night and washes all those dirty dishes)


4. more enthusiastic at the idea of baking a ton of stuff and less inclined to actually plan out the baking itself.

And to top it off, Blake thought it would be fun to take a day off work and join me in the massive baking adventure. He thought, wow, a chance to spend a whole day with Nikki. I thought, wow, I wonder if he knows what he's gotten into.

8 A.M

Blake rings my doorbell and I hand him my list of, oh, about 8 recipes I want to make. He doesn't cringe. That's a good sign. We sit down and make out a list of ingredients we need to buy. So far, so good. Off we go.

9 A.M.

We begin our raid of the Wal-Mart baking aisle where all goes well until we look at our list and see meringue powder. Meringue powder? Can't find it anywhere...but hmmm, you know, we are at Wal-Mart. Maybe Target has more specialized baking stuff. It's right across the street, so we'll just stop there. Peppermints...sold out. Okay, we're going to Target anyway. 4 nutty s'mores trail mix bars.

Nutty s'mores trail mix bars.

I head for the candy aisle. Blake heads for...the granola aisle??? He assures me that they mean the s'mores granola bars. Okay, this is for a recipe called "Almost A Candy Bar". Surely they mean the candy bar S'mores? Blake insists no, they mean the granola bars that are s'more flavored. So we debate. For almost 15 minutes. Then decide to settle the debate at Target since we can't find s'mores candy bars at Wal-Mart anyway.

10:30 A.M.

Target doesn't have meringue powder. Or peppermints. Or s'mores candy bars. Or the paste food coloring that we forgot to look for at Wal-Mart. I sigh and cross one of the cookies off my list (the recipe that sparked my cookie adventure in the first place, I might add), and leave it for a day that I can go to a specialty store and get the very complicated ingredients that are disguised as innocuous everyday items in a cookie magazine that is very clearly trying my patience by not marking said items as *not found at Wal-Mart. I also give in (after a spirited, stare-drawing debate in the middle of Target) to the s'mores granola bar theory.

So far Blake seems more tickled than annoyed. Which slightly annoys me. Mostly because he's turning out to be right more than me.

11:50

Okay, finally time to start making the cookies! I send Blake to the stove to start homemade gumdrops while I begin the chocolate cookie dough that needs to refrigerate for an hour. Mom drops in and I recruit her (okay, force her) to participate by starting the Almost Candy Bar recipe (in which she thoroughly annoys me by agreeing with Blake that the recipe did, indeed, mean GRANOLA bars).

OOPS. I dump in 3/4 cup of cocoa powder instead of 1/3. And since I'm really not that smart, I say it out loud. Blake looks at me like I'm the cutest thing he's ever seen. Mom laughs and says, "Well, that's just the first oops of the day." I cringe and start scooping out as much of the cocoa as I can.

1:00 P.M.

OOPS. The peanut butter sauce for the candy bar needs 1/2 stick, not 1/2 cup, of butter. Oh well, it's already melted in there.

OOPS. Did you know that just about every cookie dough known to man needs to refrigerate before you bake it? Also, that's how gumdrops set, and the Almost Candy Bar. Hmmm, I should have cleaned the fridge out...they're all in big long pans...

1:25 P.M.

Stuff is starting to smell good and Mom has decided that her talents would be better put to use as a taster rather than sous chef. Blake has started in on the fifth load of dishes while I am trying desperately to make sure that the oven (which is set on 350 degrees but whose internal thermometer reads 375) doesn't burn my pretty peppermint biscotti, which is the only thing I haven't "OOPS-ed" on yet.

1:45 P.M.

OOPS. I'm trying to "drizzle" melted milk chocolate over my layered Almost Candy Bar and my ziploc baggie that's supposed to do all the drizzling without all the mess goes pop. You know, like when you blow air into it, shut it tight, then hit it and the zip either breaks or the seams burst. Only when mine popped, it popped milk chocolate instead of air.

OOPS. My mini loaf pans of cherry-pistachio bread are overflowing and creating lovely little green volcanoes. The pretty pistachio lava is burning to the bottom of the oven. Luckily, a cookie sheet placed underneath my mini-Mt. St. Helens stems the flow.

Blake is still doing dishes. Mom has given up on the baking and has returned to decorating the house for Christmas, which has been her project for the LAST TWO WEEKS.

4:00 P.M.

Okay, Almost Candy Bar-check. Gumdrops-setting. Biscotti-double baked and ready for drizzle. Chocolate pretzel cookies-baked, iced, and hershey-kissed. Cherry-pistachio bread-dormant and ready for wrapping.

OOPS. Remember my drizzle oops a few hours ago? Yeah, apparently I didn't either. So a few pieces of biscotti are a little more drizzly than others. Oh, well, they're supposed to look homemade anyway.

5:00 P.M.

Gumdrop time! In theory, the gumdrops (which are currently in a thin sheet in a pyrex dish) are supposed to just plop out of the pan onto wax paper after you loosen the sides. But if you've made it this far in the day with me then you know that nothing is going to work like the recipe says, so of course Blake ends up prying the ooey gooey mess out of the pan with his very patient fingers. He plops it on the wax paper and we get out our very sharp, very small, very cute cookie cutters, dunk them in hot water, and start cutting gumdrops. Easy enough.

Until we try to pry them off the wax paper.

6:00 P.M.

Still prying.

6:30 P.M.

I have a headache. The first batch of gumdrops have finally been peeled not-so-gently from the wax paper (I thought NOTHING stuck to wax paper) and placed on another sheet of-you guessed it-wax paper to "dry". Blake heads to church choir promising to return after for round two of gumdrop-mania. I wouldn't blame him if he never got in the same zipcode as me ever again.

9:00 P.M.

Ahhhhh. After dinner, sitting by the fire, and watching "White Christmas" with my Mom, I feel much better. After all, most of my desserts are sitting on the dining room table, cut up all pretty and decorated, and my boyfriend is ringing my doorbell. Apparently being an absolute mess in the kitchen is not a deal-breaker. Whew.

9:15 P.M.

We have the bright idea of spraying EVERYTHING associated to the gumdropping with PAM. And PRESTO! It works! After prying the second sheet of gumdrops out of the pan onto PAM covered wax paper, it takes us a mere half hour to cut and sugar the ruby-colored gems. I will include this helpful tip later down the road when I post the recipe and accompanying photos. But not today, because yesterday, I was too busy being covered in chocolate, sugar, peppermint, and super sticky Jell-O to grab my camera.

10:30 P.M

Blake helps me finish washing the rest of the dishes (which is basically every pot, pan, cookie sheet, and utensil in the kitchen, plus a few I didn't know we had). Then-and this is the part where I have to go, "huh?"-he hugs me, kisses me, looks me in the eye and says,

"I love you so much. Today was so much fun."

Huh? A full day of washing my dishes, dodging exploding chocolate baggies, hearing "OOOPS" every few minutes, and generally surviving the mayhem that-let's face it-is life with me, and he still loves me?

He still loves me. He loves covered-in-chocolate-dripping-with-gumdrops-stubborn-oopsing me. So yes, he's nuts, I'm lucky...

And I can't wait to do it again next year.

AMMENDMENT

NEWS FLASH: I was wrong. Refer to one of my earlier posts (to which I will link when I figure it out) about Johnny Depp's rumored paycheck for the fourth installment of "The Pirates of the Carribean". The radio dj said $500 million dollars. The article I just ran across on the internet said $56 million. So maybe he won't be making more than Aaron Spelling did in a lifetime for one movie. It's still more than the top paying actress (Cameron Diaz) made for all her movies in 2007-2008. And I'll probably still see the movie. And I'm still jealous. So there.

Just When I Thought I Had It All Together...

reality hits like a nuclear bomb. Okay, well maybe not quite that dramatic. I've been talking and talking about how I'm running a half marathon Saturday, December 13 for AGES now. I even posted a link to the marathon site. No one bothered to tell me that the marathon was SUNDAY DECEMBER 14. Ahem. So anyone who is interested in seeing their dimwitted friend cross the finish line should show up on SUNDAY DECEMBER 14TH. I'll be sleeping in on Saturday.

Prince Charming, Part 1

I've never considered myself a "girl's girl". I mean, okay, I like twirly skirts (who doesn't??), I wear pink way more often than necessary for someone who claims to hate it, and I own three pairs of heels for every pair of sneakers in my closet (at least). But when it comes to friends, I've always migrated to the guys. Let's face it: even though romantic relationships are often messy and tough to navigate, guys as a whole are far less complicated to understand than girls. Or maybe it's just me. Whatever.

The point is (hah! you knew I was gonna get there, I mean here, eventually) that I finally met a Prince Charming. And my relationship with him has opened my eyes to the man in my life who came before him. I know, I know, you're all probably dying to know more about my Prince, but to understand how I can love him (and, maybe, how he can love me), I thought I'd wax philosophical about the other Prince Charming in my life...the one who taught me what a man should be.

I give him grief all the time...more than any man deserves. The truth is, my father is the man who has made it so difficult to find someone worth giving my heart to. He has given me so much...trips to exotic places, a first class education, a comfortable home (that he keeps letting me return to). He's given me an example of what marriage is supposed to be like (thirty years of marriage and he still talks about how attractive he thinks my mother is). Growing up I never noticed if we had more or less than my friends, though there were times we certainly did have less, or more. He's provided for our family in every way.

The two most valuable pieces of advice I ever got were from my father. The first wasn't even advice. When I left college to pursue a career performing, there was a small part of me that wondered if I was in some way disappointing my dad...glamorous though it may be, an acting career for their child is not the dream of most parents. Plus, my father was quickly rising in management, and having inherited his personality I wondered if that was the path that I, too, was supposed to have followed. I wondered...until the day my father told me about a conversation with his co-worker in which he expressed such pride and admiration for his daughter who was pursuing her dream and catching it. It didn't matter that it was far-fetched, unstable, unconventional, and completely different from the path he followed...he was proud of his daughter for having a dream and going for it.

Fast forward a few years, and I'm back at home, choosing another path (and now worried that I'm disappointing my father for choosing a different dream). When I finally expressed this through racking sobs, daddy simply looked at me and said, "Whatever you do, do something you're passionate about. If there's no passion, it's not worth it. I only want you to be happy, and the only path to happiness is passion."

We may take jabs at each other-and we do, because we're too much alike, both stubborn, set in our ways, independent, moody, always thinking we're right (and we usually are), bossy, nosy, and determined-but there is never a moment when I forget that he was the first man to love me. He is the man who has tenaciously held onto my heart for a lifetime. He is the man who may lead a company to success, but first and foremost led a family to a happy ending. And someday he'll give me away, but he'll be the only man to do so without losing my heart, my love, or my devotion. He is the man against whom all others will be measured.

He is my first Prince Charming.