



I've heard great things about Bare Escentuals. Does it live up to the hype? It gets rave reviews, but any makeup with a DVD instructional video might be too complex for me.
MS was kind enough to handle the chicken nastiness. 
I intended to take pictures of all the steps.
Then I got distracted. MS makes a great apple cider rum drink. It quieted my screaming quads.

The recipe, in case you opt for soup over Little Debbies any time soon. I only used 4 cans of beans. We live in a small apartment. I blended two of them in the food processor to make the soup creamier.
Ingredients
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 onions, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
4 cooked, boneless chicken breast half, chopped
3 (14.5 ounce) cans chicken broth
2 (4 ounce) cans canned green chile peppers, chopped
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons dried oregano
1 1/2 teaspoons cayenne pepper
5 (14.5 ounce) cans great Northern beans, undrained
1 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese
Heat the oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onions and garlic and saute for 10 minutes, or until onions are tender.
Add the chicken, chicken broth, green chile peppers, cumin, oregano and cayenne pepper and bring to a boil.
Reduce heat to low and add the beans. Simmer for 20 to 30 minutes, or until heated thoroughly. Pour into individual bowls and top with the cheese.
At some point last week, all 4 of my brain cells started working at the same time, and it occurred to me to look up the marathon on facebook. Found all kinds of helpful information I had looked everywhere for- (well, clearly not everywhere) like the flavors of Gu provided on the course. This may seem trivial, until you try something new on race day and are actually wanting to find a port a potty. Everything must be the same. Don't change anything.
That's about as far as my brain took me this week, since the following happened Friday:
1.chips and cheese dip
2.draft beer
3.mapping a run starting at a wine bar
We'll call this run 20 miles -glutton for punishment edition.
Things weren't too bad the first half of the run. The scenery was unreal, as was the real estate. I would have snapped some pictures to share, but I thought taking pictures of people's houses I don't know is probably borderline creepy.
A little torture at mile 12.
Saw this bat at our second gatorade stop. I remembered from somewhere someone using a champagne bottle as a foam roller, so I thought, why not a plastic bat? Felt nice on the quads.
Things turned dark (literally and figuratively) around mile 15-16. I went from taking it 3 miles a time to 2, and then towards the end, even the tenths of miles seem to be taking AGES. I thought my watch was broken the numbers were turning over so slow. It was our longest run, it was our slowest run - but we finished.
I convinced MS to drop me off with the cooler, so he didn't have to carry it/I didn't have to walk a mile. I considered it a belated anniversary gift.
Our hosts hired an Elvis cover band. Full set up, with a stage overlooking the food area.
There was some dancing.
Dancing didn't have the draw of eating an entire bag of wavy Lay's. So, I did that instead. I don't think there was any left for MS when he arrived.
Luckily he found alternate entertainment.
We claimed our seats 2 hours before kickoff. I think I made it one quarter before I had to pace around the parking lot.
We all know how it ended.
Defense - A
Offense - F
Chicken biscuit and hashbrown I stuffed my feelings with Sunday morning - A+.

I bet their mom's are proud.
This really makes my dorm showers look like the Hilton.
Tear gas cannisters. They were never used. Sort of wish they sold them in the gift shop...just to spruce up my cube.
I was ok with this until 'stewed fruit', which kind of makes me want to throw up in my mouth. Which kind of reminds me of stewed fruit. Chicken and the egg.
The wardrobe department.
Not just America's favorite pasttime.
Knife storage, with outlines to quickly tell when one was missing. No wonder all the stewed fruit. Who can cook under that kind of pressure?
We left and continued our romantic day at a local taco restaurant. Look who was waiting patiently for a chip? His name was Chopper- he was a French/English bulldog mix and he was almost kidnapped by moi. It made me miss the Grizz.
The tacos helped ease my pain. Fish tacos - one Nick's way - with a fried shell and guac. One regular. More things need to be cooked Nick's way.
If Chopper didn't make me miss Namath, as soon as we walked outside, this guy did.
And just down the street. Rub. It. In. Also, file this under 'things Namath needs to learn.'
We ended the afternoon with drinks at the Gold Dust lounge. We laughed when we passed it the first time, but it beckoned, as happy hour champagne often does.
Cheers to the weekend...and one whole year of putting up with me. You are still the best thing that's ever happened to me.