Saint Oreck - Patron Saint of the Holidays

'Tis the season to be totally on lock down, prepared for any bomb-like threat that rears its head. Such threats include ornament exchange parties, unplanned Christmas carolers, and phone calls from my mother. My head is not so much in a tizzy during these few weeks as it is on enemy patrol, smile cemented in place, planning strategic cookie baking missions in between wrapping my kids' gifts and getting in articles that should have been written last week. Crazy Town has been invaded with whimsical merry-making and I have no control.

Last week a client was telling me about a vacuum salesperson who was stalking her, trying to sell her a $2,100 machine that should also churn butter at that price. This client, Julie, is also a friend whose son in my son's class at school. I see Julie at school, at work and occasionally at mass. Still, it was odd that her vacuum was in my dream last night. Odder still that Father Ronnie wielded the super-powered sucker during mass. Instead of passing out the Eucharist in the traditional manner of hand to hand or hand to mouth, Father Ronnie held the vacuum facing the congregation and shot out the round wafers across the room and each landed perfectly in the recipients' mouths. Instead of being completely alarmed, all I could think was how economical - both in time and physical effort - this method was, particularly during the very busy season of Advent.

I am not kidding.

Really, I'm not complaining. I like the holidays - all cozy and sing-y and gift-y. The kids get a break from school, which by now they need, and clients phase off a bit until I wrangle them back in at the start of the New Year with a gentle reminder of how much they really do NOT like big butts and I cannot lie. I'm using that extra time to get the house together for this year's visitors - my sister, her husband, their twin 3-year-olds and my mother. Mother will be staying at the Intercontinental downtown, to all of our reliefs. Including her own.

To the normal person, "getting the house ready" involves light cleaning, changing the bedding and maybe stocking the fridge. To the Mayor of Crazy Town, it is repainting the bathroom, changing out the hardware and hunting down every last speck of dirt like a crack smoking Martha Stewart. I have put in a petition to St. Oreck, the Patron Saint of the Holidays for those Whose Homes Must Have Vacuum Lines in the Bedroom Carpets, to also assist with the: broken dishwasher, bugged out laptop, crunching left knee (not a traditional major appliance, I know, but when a girl is asking for stuff...) and lack of fresh garland. Not a whole lot of response so far but I'm thinking positively.

Now, enough of this chatter, I have blinds to wipe down, clients to see and there is a blue light sale on Knees at the KMart this afternoon. Gotta run...

Merry, merry you all.

Leggo My Ego

Much like compassion and good manners, there is a shortage of waffles in America. A crisis for certain, but nothing that we Americans can't handle. Hundreds of people will be forced to eat eggs or oatmeal for breakfast. But, for god's sake man, they will eat.

MILF with old tires

A couple of months back, I took Betty to the shop for a rehab. Like her mother, she had been through a hurricane and came out still intact, but scarred. And a little moldy. I totally ignored the smirk on the I'm-twenty-years-old-and-fast-as-hell-with-a-super-cool-new-bike-with-big-boy-tires-and-aero-bars snarky little kid who graciously told me he'd clean her up and all that. He slapped on a speedometer and asked me what kind of tape I wanted on the handlebars.

Betty Bianchi was purchased 9 years ago when I first started doing sprint triathlons. I named her Betty because she was bright orange with a sassy Italian attitude to match. She reminded me of my even earlier Skater Betty years that were marked with asymmetrical haircuts and lots of heavy sighing. 11 years ago she was hot, new and top of the line. Today she is a middle-aged woman in need of a boob job.

I don't mind riding her - I take pride in the fact that she's been through everything with me. I didn't have Mr. Fabulous change the bike seat because I don't know what's new for the tush. My shoes work just fine, thank you very much. I told him to put on pink tape not because I wanted pink tape on my bike, but because I wanted to watch him grimace while wrapping the bars with hospital pink tape tape that blatantely clashes with Betty's orange body.

That part I do regret.

But now I want to give her some lovin'. She and her mother deserve some pampering. I'm not giving her up for a more aerodynamic new bike because I'm still never going to win first place and those 2 minutes I might gain just don't encourage me to be disloyal to my girl. Does she need aero bars? Yes. Could she stand some fancy new tires that look like giant frisbees? Yes.

But does she totally rock my world and make me feel like a female Lance Armstrong?

Hell, yes.

My 9 year old bike. These fabulous Michael Kors shoes that border on hooker-height high. Homemade chocolate chip cookies. My youngest child calling waffles "fafflees".

These things also rock my world. Someone else is going to disagree. Someone else always disagrees and it's usually my husband. Whatever.

Disagree all you want, but they make me feel like a hottie. A MILF with old tires.

But can you wrap presents with it?

I'm old. So what? I can't do anything about that. I'm also very middle-of-the-pack in area races and triathlons. But just because I'm pushing forty doesn't mean I'm going to stop running, biking, doing Pilates and on and on. I just have to do it a little more conscientously.

In addition to actually getting in the cold plunge at the gym instead of talking about it (How do people lie down in that? 5 minutes standing up to just past my knees is all I can handle), I forced rests days on myself. I also came across ROCKTAPE on Twitter. This is how it's described on rocktape.com:

ROCKTAPE is the only Kinesiology tape engineered to meet the demands of endurance athletes like runners, swimmers and cyclists. Unlike other products, ROCKTAPE can be used both to apply compression to promote recovery, or decompression to relieve pain and swelling. ROCKTAPE enhances performance, prevents fatigue, promotes circulation and removes lactic acid.

This is what I say:

Fabulous.

My right knee is my problem child and the tape really does eliminate the immediate soreness after long runs. Yesterday was 12.5 miles on the Tammany Trace. All wrapped up and not only did I not hurt or start crunching, my knee wasn't sore later that afternoon either. Placebo effect? Who knows. All I know is that with the tape on my knee I could've gone another couple of miles had I not needed to rescue my husband from the three kids I left him with back at home.

The website comes with super easy instructions on applications for knees, ankles, elbows and everything in between. I'll keep on ordering this stuff through the long run season and in to the warmer weather races. It doesn't leave marks on me when I remove it and it stays on through sweating, swimming and the Knees Off Pilates exercises - all three seasonless activities.

I'm passing on the samples the guys at ROCKTAPE gave me to Gwen with the bursa and ankle issues, John and his sore tennis elbow and Chelle for her achilles. But not all of it. I'm keeping some for myself.

Another Day in the Life of a Ninja

Tucker wears a lot of costumes. Star Wars "guys", chef's aprons, G.I. Joe Snake Eyes (even though he's never seen the movie) and Ninjas are his favs. It doesn't come as a surprise to me, considering he is named after a Mardi Gras parade that I really loved and couldn't attend because I was busy birthing said child.

Where's the connection you ask? Mardi Gras, for those of us who live in New Orleans, isn't about naked girls on Bourbon Street (mostly) or sucking down Hurricanes at the speed of light (okay, that part is involved a little). There is a huge portion of the holiday that is family-oriented. For two weeks parades float up and down the streets of the suburbs and of Uptown New Orleans and entertain families perched high on ladders tricked out like mini-carnival rides.



You can wear costumes, you don't have to wear costumes. People can think you are in costume even though you left the house feeling F-I-N-E fine in your new purple shoes and your husband can ask, "where did you get those clown shoes?" and you can then not answer him and refuse him the snack bag you brought along and eat the snacks with gusto even though chips really aren't your thing just to spite him. Well, you could.



With a birthday that falls near or on Mardi Gras every year, Tucker thought that people gathered on St. Charles Avenue in costume just for him. And I let him think that - think of the money I saved on birthday parties! "Yes, sweetie! This is all for you!" I would grandly gesture at all the parades, marching bands and people.



He's old enough now to know that Mommy didn't arrange Mardi Gras for him, but he's not too old to stop wearing his costumes. Here we are today, celebrating the day off from school due to Hurricane Ida. What else could we do but dress like ninjas and prepare for battle?



The lake is really high and I made the boys crouch low "like Ninjas" because Little C wanted to go overboard in a big way.



We lost a big batch of costumes in Katrina, but Tucker would be too big for them now. It's funny because Charlie is the age Tucker was when Katrina struck. Tucker wouldn't fit in to those old costumes, but Charlie could.



I love Mardi Gras. I love Big Old Oak Trees in the Park. I do not love Hurricane Season.



I do, however, love the sweet, cool breeze off Lake Pontchartrain when a storm is just about ready to graze over. I love wearing shorts in November and barbequed oysters.





It's going to rain this afternoon. Going to go throw winter rye grass on the lawn and let Ida water it in.

Kerrie Ann's Banana Bread with Secret Bribe

Lighter-ish Banana Bread with Secret Bribe Ingredient

Cooking spray

1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1 tsp baking soda

2 tbsp ground flax

1 tbsp ground cinnamon

1/4 tsp nutmeg

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 stick (1/4 cup) softened butter (can use butter substitute),

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 eggs (or egg substitute)

1/3 cup fat free vanilla or plain yogurt

3 very ripe bananas smashed (about 1 1/2 cups)

2 tsp vanilla

**Secret ingredient: 2 tablespoons of chocolate chips. They add maybe 140 calories to the entire receipe and encourage kids to eat it!

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Apray 8 inch x 4 inch metal loaf pan with cooking spray.

You are supposed to whisk together dry ingredients (both flours, baking soda, flax meal, cinnamon and salt) and set aside. Personally, I just mix it all at the end after the wet ingredients are combined. What can I say, Martha Stewart? I live on the edge.

Cream butter with sugar. I recommend a mixer. Add eggs one at a time beating thoroughly in between. Mix in yogurt, bananas and vanilla. Fold in flour mixture and mix until just incorporated. Chips are the last thing to jump in. Carefully...and don't nibble!

Carefully spoon batter in to loaf pan. I recommend avoiding even a small taste of the batter as it leads to entirely too much finger-licking and spooning of raw batter.

Bake 55-65 minutes. Check with a toothpick to ensure it is fully cooked throughout. Allow to cool and remove from baking pan.