Yesterday was an astoundingly unseasonably warm day around these parts, and while I didn’t get enough time to be out in the air enjoying it, it did make my trek to the laundry room across the courtyard fairly pleasant.

It’s the small things, you know.

Last night I headed in for some more interval training, since I’ve decided that plugging along at my normal pace is starting to get really boring.

Although when I crank up the speed, it’s pretty much the longest minute of my life.

You can’t win on a treadmill, chicks.

I’m back on the at-least-three-times-a-week circuit, starting yesterday, because my persuasive friends finally got me to sign up for the Christie Clinic Illinois Half Marathon at the end of April.

I’m feeling strangely calm about this, despite not having run farther than 6 miles in God-Knows-When, and also confronting the fact that 13.2 miles at the end of April is probably going to be cold and damp.

I’m incredibly whiny in less-than-optimal running conditions. I’ll have to work on that in the next few months.

I’ve been informed that the race is flat and fast though, which is an improvement over the surprise hills of Wisconsin’s half marathon.

They shouldn’t have been a surprise, by the way. I just chose to ignore the words “rolling hills” in the description of the race.

In any case, with my next challenge in front of me, I’m ready for action. And training runs. And new playlists.

And a nap.

I’ll catch you on the other side of this mid-week, chickpeas.

And yet, here we are again.

JW and I had a good time this weekend in Madison, skiing and beer tasting and then coming home and crashing.

Neither of us even fell on the slopes, and we made it to the Blue Square trails before I decided that was enough incline and speed, thanks very much.

Also notable on the trip was the lack of bars across the chair lifts.

I know that this is a thing, and that lots of chair lifts require you to sit quietly while being lifted in the air.

However.

I have a fear of heights.

And I’ve never been on a lift without a lap bar.

Which meant that with every trip to the top, I nearly had a panic attack.

I seriously considered sticking to the bunny hill the whole time, but I thought that would be a sad way to spend the day.

Plus JW kept almost falling off the conveyer belt that takes you up the tiny hill.

Horrifying chair lift it was.

And to combat my anxiety, I put in place some rules around riding up the mountain, chiefly no talking and no moving and holding on tight.

“Don’t you think it would take your mind off of it if we talked?” asked JW.

I explained to him that I had to focus on my survival during the ride, and there was no time for chatting.

“I feel like we haven’t even talked today because of your rules,” he smirked, as I white-knuckle gripped the bar.

Next time I’m bringing a xanax.

In any case, we did have a good time, and post skiing, we made our way to Madison for the night, which was a delight, as I’ve never been.

There were no chair lifts there.

I ran into him at one point, in his costume, and he told me he liked my blog.

In my dream, I was ecstatic, but then horrified, since that meant he could see all of my proclamations of love to him.

Upon waking up and thinking on this, I still wish he showed up at plays and read my blog.

Anyway.

I have never been so happy to see the weekend stretched out in front of me, even though I know today will be long and before I know it, it’ll be Monday again.

But let’s not dwell on that.

JW and I are going skiing in Madison this weekend.

JW and I haven’t been skiing since high school, but this doesn’t seem to be stopping us.

In fact, the last time I consistently skied was when I was in middle school, and to be honest, that was more about trying to sit next to a cute boy on the bus ride and also flirting and eating french fries in the cafe.

I’m just being honest.

During that regular interval of ski trips, I fell off a chair lift (at the end though, no cause for alarm), ran into a slow down sign (not even joking), and fell so hard I went flying out my skis at least a half dozen times.

I did not excel at slowing down.

In any case, I have decided that I have more coordination and less distractions this time around (although there is a bus ride involved, and I could go for some french fries…), that I will be a less disastrous skier.

There’s nothing like the power of positive thinking, right?

And if not, we’ve got a brewery tour scheduled on Sunday.

Nothing like craft beers to take away the pain, chickens.

Wish me luck, and I’ll see you on the other side.

But because of a series of scheduling conflicts and also that her class is on one of the only days JW’s home from school, I haven’t made it to her 80s beats-rocking session in several months.

But then the gym put a spinning bike out in the cardio room.

Perfect, I thought.

I then discovered it had the option to spin to a biking video, complete with instructor.

Even better.

But now, I’m just not so sure.

This morning I decided to hit up the endurance program, which simply means Do the same thing at the same level over and over.

Because I’m not always quick on the draw, I figured eventually the spandex-clad leader would take me through some alternate movement.

Nope. “Just keep pedaling. Let’s pedal like this for five minutes.”

Really?

That was okay, though, to a point. I could pedal along, even if I was bored.

It was then that the man in the video started talking more.

He said things like “Stay supple” and “I want to see you play your bike like an instrument.”

Cut to a wide shot of him on his spin bike with a LASER background.

I wish I was kidding but simply am not.

After several more weird phrases (such as, let me see the rhythm in your body), a really frightening open-mouthed smile, and other trippy, moving backgrounds, I was finally done.

“Thanks for taking a ride with me,” he said.

It might be our last one, dude.

Monday’s previous conflicts are looking like peanuts compared to another early morning program with this dude.

This morning I pulled myself out of bed to go to the gym, then spent a full minute picking up my gym clothes and tossing them back onto my dresser in indecision until I finally decided to just do it, already.

Even though my bed looked like a far better option.

I ran cycles today, because I have concerns I’m letting my workouts even out too much. I’m content to just kind of hang out on the treadmill for a few miles, and I think I’m in danger of hitting a boring workout wall, so I switched it up.

Three minutes of jogging, one minute of sprinting, one minute of incline walking.

Rinse and repeat for 35 minutes or until you’re about ready to collapse.

Yoga will be a welcome respite tonight.

Unless I start falling over again.

A real possibility, come to think of it.

However, my running playlist is really firming up in the opening of 2012, with Florence, her machine, and Rihanna to thank.

Anyone have anything really great getting them going in this wintry slump?

I’ll leave you with my current favorite jam.

Which is my jam mostly because it reminds me of a 90s dance song.

And I believe we all know what I think about the 90s.

Happy Tuesday, chickens.

That was fast, huh?

This weekend was full of various activity, including a raucous round of karaoke in this strange VFW hall somewhere on Milwaukee Ave.

I suspect I could not get there again if I tried.

But I sang Third Eye Blind, watched a fair number of hipsters bop around, and came out smelling like 2003.

Apparently the no-smoking rules haven’t hit the VFW yet.

Although I can’t complain too much, I suppose, since it seems like inflation hasn’t either.

All drinks = $3.

I might have to look a little harder for that place again, even if it means potentially listening to someone struggle through a drunk, off-key version of Living La Vida Loca.

Some things are worth the sacrifice.

*****

Also this weekend, I spent some time jumping on and off the floor with a kettlebell, followed by a session of slightly-more-chill yoga than last week’s debacle.

I didn’t fall over just trying to stand up.

However, due to severe protesting of Jillian Michaels’ level-one DVD, Ky insisted on throwing herself on her mat in the middle of every sun salutation.

Eventually, we’ll become zen yogis.

But probably not for a really long time.

*****

Last night we made braised short ribs and goat cheese polenta, courtesy of our old friend PW.

The short ribs were easy to make and smelled delicious.

Ditto on the polenta.

In the end though, the short ribs seemed to produce an endless amount of fat (our novice-short rib making skill, I am sure), and we mostly felt shameful about what we’d eaten all night.

The homemade polenta though? Our new jam.

And super easy.

And non-shame inducing.

You should get to that as soon as possible.

I’ll be eating salad all week to compensate for this heart attack inducing meal.

And I’ll also take advice on how to make this more successfully next time.

Up today- I face a rainy January Wednesday without having a temper tantrum and insisting that I stay home instead.

I’ll keep you posted on this one, chickens.

Last night after work, JW and I had plans to head to Wildfire and grab drinks, steaks, and a movie.

How I wish all the nights of my life were like this.

It took me twice as long to crawl from my office to Wildfire, but once I got into the restaurant, I was handed a martini and a menu, and I felt much better.

Crab-stuffed shrimp, lobster crusted scallops, a steak, some mashed potatoes, and a glass of wine later, I felt much better about my place in the universe.

And JW and I resolved to hang out at Wildfire more often.

Even if means we end up bankrupt.

Luckily, in you hang in the bar between 5:00 and 6:30, you’re treated to half priced appetizers and martinis.

Makes justifying the steak way easier.

Post delicious dinner, we trudged through the snow to the movies, where we were working on one of our 2012 resolutions, which was to see more movies.

I love the movies, chickens.

We settled on Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, a movie about a little boy who loses his dad on 9/11 and is searching NYC for a lock that fits the key he found in his father’s closet. He’s certain it’s a message from beyond,  and won’t stop looking until he finds some answers.

Obviously, the movie made me sob for a full two hours, until I was so dehydrated that I had a headache.

I wasn’t even embarrassed.

I would not say that this was a feel good film, but it was well made and beautiful, and I loved every actor in it.

On our way home, while I was still recovering from the trauma of the movie, I noticed a woman acting kind of crazy on the Red line.

Which is standard behavior for Friday nights past, oh, rush hour.

The next thing I knew, she had lifted up her shirt and flashed the entire car of passengers.

Full trauma had settled in.

It took an episode each of 30 Rock, Parks & Recreation, and The Office, PLUS a cup of tea to bring me down from that evening.

It’s a crazy world, chicks.

And welcome to a seven degree day.

With a winter storm warning.

At least it’s Friday, is all I can say.

On this particular Friday morning, I’m feeling pretty slow moving, due to a night out (and perhaps too much wine for a weeknight) with my lovely coworkers.

We decided to try out Slurping Turtle, a new noodle restaurant in River North. They serve up tapas, grilled items, sashimi, and also bowls of ramen goodness.

I figured it would be nice and close.

It didn’t feel that close in the biting cold though.

By the time we got there, our arms and legs were pretty much immobilized, but all was forgotten when we got inside and were led to this cool booth overlooking the whole restaurant.

Sorry for the blurry picture. The light in our booth kept going on and off, and so this was the best I could do.

In any case, we tucked into the wine list, started gabbing, and decided on some appetizers.

Which I did not take pictures of because we basically inhaled them on sight.

What I can tell you is that the curry croquettes and steamed dumplings were amazing.

The mussels were also good, but they didn’t come out for a strangely long amount of time (like 45 minutes or something- subject to discussion since we were drinking and laughing and maybe not watching the clock).

Next up was a giant, steaming bowl of noodles. I ordered the Tan Tan Men, which included whole wheat noodles, pork broth, sausage, AND meatballs.

What’s better than that?

Also, it was spicy. And giant. I figured I’d never make a dent in it.

But of course I finished almost all of it.

This picture is obviously before I devoured the whole bowl using both a soup spoon and a pair of chopsticks, to make sure I got at every last bit.

It was pretty much the most awesome bowl of noodles I’ve ever eaten.

On the whole, this was definitely a place I’d try again, as long as I was with a group of people who make me laugh until I cry so I forget how long I’m waiting for my food. The restaurant’s service is a little slow, and you might have to prod the waiter for awhile so your appetizers appear and also maybe order two more bottles of wine because you’ve had plenty of time to finish the first two before dinner showed up.

But in general, extra wine won’t get you more complaints from me.

This morning, however, is a different story.

And with that, I’m off to face the cold, and one more day of work.

Bleh.

I spent an hour at the gym this morning, trudging through some cross training.

The Stairmaster is basically my worst enemy, chickens.

But I managed to make it home alive.

In other news, I was cheered up this morning by a Youtube video featuring one of the best characters from Downtown Abbey, the most awesome show (on PBS ever).

If you’re not familiar with the show, you might not find it as awesome as I do, but what can I say, I’m a sucker for a period drama.

Last night JW and I made dinner, trying out a new(er) PW recipe that I forgot to take pictures of, but click through to see what it’s about.

Tuscan Bean Soup with Shrimp (i.e. a culinary delight)

We made the soup with spinach instead of kale (because it turns out that my husband makes a face when kale gets thrown into the grocery cart), and only 1 lb of shrimp.

Also, my shrimp were jumbo, so after cooking them (in a tablespoon or so of olive oil, not four tablespoons of butter), we cut them up into pieces.

A delicious, tomato-ey concoction if you ask me.

Plus it basically has all the healthy things in it.

Try it out. You can thank me later.

And now, it’s off to the races.

And almost off to the weekend.