You can always tell how out of control my life is by the neatness of my closet and/or how many diet coke cans are in the trash can by my desk. Just know, it’s been bad – and it doesn’t seem like that long ago that we already had this closet discussion. Oiy. And I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but here are the before AND after pictures of my closet. I normally just do after, but I wanted you to understand the full disorganized impact of my out-of-controlness. The jewelry was the worst – holy crap.Now that that little chore is out to the way, I’m able to be Runner Susan again. So here I go, back to talking about my boobs and other obscene stuff – oh, like maybe running!

(I’m trying out this pictobrowser thing, but everything was in before and after order – please forgive me – let me know how it works on your screen)

Not because I ran a spanktacular 12 miles this morning – with the first nine miles at a 9:36 pace, which alone, I think, qualifies me for worshipness – but because I spent my weekend doing this . . .

Behold the glory of my pantry – in all its contained goodness. (Yeah, I know, we eat a lot of pasta. It’s not whole wheat, bite me and call the Surgeon General.) I really wish I had a before picture, because I didn’t plan on organizing the pantry this weekend. It happened rather suddenly after I happened to pour one container of pasta into one haphazard clear container. That’s all it took. It’s really pretty sad, but the high I got from seeing the pasta in a little clear, click clack, container is more than my little heart can explain.

So off to the Contaner Store I went. Twice. $300.00 dollars and two days later, I have the bedazzlement of organized and clearly contained dry goods. It makes me want to cry. I even wrote the instructions to each pasta, oatmeal or rice under the lid. I still have more to do though, Kenza’s cereals and her snacky stuff like her Christmas and Hanukah candy are all a mess.

I drove 16 hours from Indiana to Texas because the thought of spending another night in a bed that wasn’t mine was more than my brain was able to comprehend. Of all the things I am not good at, I would rate traveling up there with cooking and grammar and NoPoBloHo.

Two things that I can always be sure of when I travel is that I will be unable to poop the entire time I’m gone and that when I return home, I will find that my dear husband will have reorganized the already organized things in the house. And while I am so grateful I have a loving husband who alphabetizes the refrigerator by food group, there are some days I wish he would just hunt antelope like other husbands do while their wives are away.

Nonetheless, sleeping in my own bed, next to my very disseminating and very handsome husband, made for a wonderful night of sleep last night.

As a surprise housewarming gift for my husband, I traded web design services and slave labor from my sister, for a painting of my husband cycling. I gave the artist a race picture and full artistic freedom. This is what I got.

He titled it Blood, Sweat and Tears. I like it, but I’m a little confused – I gave him a sunny picture of Michael cycling with little flowers in the background. Do you see any flowers in this painting? Michael loves it so I guess it doesn’t really matter. But, then again, this is the same man who did this the first night our pool was operational. And thought it was so funny he did it over and over again, abusing the pool spray in ways pool sprays should not be abused.

I’m not sure if I’m really, really lucky to have this man as a husband, or if I’m just plain insane.

Every night for the past three or four weeks, I lie in bed and can’t sleep. Last night in particular, since the inspection of our current home is today and the only thing I can think of last night was that I didn’t power-wash the one gutter in the backyard where the ladder wasn’t so steady. In fact, we spent the entire weekend repairing and improving things that we’ve lived with for the past five years for the new owners. It’s amazing how comfortable we become with the status quo. Or scary, because we should never have become comfortable living with the swarm of wasps that come and go mysteriously into our bathroom as they please for almost a year now.

And while one should seem insane and the other doesn’t, my brain just doesn’t work that way.  The entire time we’ve been house building, I’ve somehow convinced myself that if the new house isn’t completely decorated and furnished the instant we move in, I might spontaneously combust. Man, do I have issues! I’m surprised that the demon inside me hasn’t scrawled “help me” across my forehead in a plea to escape.

In other news, I have been training. I may not be mentally sound when I get to New York, but I have a plane ticket, a hotel room and I should be ready to run 26.2 miles. It won’t be fast, but if I’m not institutionalized along the way, I will finish.

In January of 2006 Michael came home from a long ride and spontaneously announced, “I know where we’re going live”. Which was odd because I’m usually the spontaneous one. But there he was, pulling a Susan. And I’m positive his decision had nothing to do with the house being located right smack in the middle of his cycling route. But he was right and it was so perfect, and in a few days we were the owners of two and half acres of beautifully wooded property in the middle of nowhere.

What a long building process it’s been, an emotional range of shock, fun, exhaustion, and excitement – with a little stress thrown in for good measure. And since the beginning, and from here on out, our home has been affectionately referred to as The Knollie Witch Project.*

Now finally, more than a year later, we’ve gone from dirt to house and we’re in the homestretch. Down to the nitty gritty, pretty pretty fun stuff – like the color selection of tiles, granite and walls. And just when you think it can’t get any better, a ray of light opens in the sky and your front door is gently lowered into place. The front door we took weeks to design, and by we I mean me, me and all my twirly, swirly, flowy glorious doorly me-ness. And it’s so beautiful it makes you want to rip off the plastic and slather it with tongue juice until the cows come home.

So if I’ve been a little more scatterbrained than usual and it seems as if my comment gene has all but disappeared, bear with me. I’ll be back to normal soon, or as normal as a Runner Susan can be.

Oh, about that one small problem. In my current house I am fortunate enough to be only about five minutes away from numerous shopping malls. When I move I’ll be very far away – the nearest mall will be about eighteen minutes away. Which is a definitely a problem if you need that emergency pair of platform pumps or black gaucho capris.**

Of course, that might have been dear Michael’s plan from the very beginning.

*Forever grateful for the naming – thanks to the toast-hating, movie-making, former Texan/Hoosier, and current Aussie, Katy.

**Much thanks to Kate, the girl with the secret blog, for her mapping mallness artistic talent.

I know exactly what you are thinking: “Where’s the blue?” Me too. I can’t believe I don’t own a single blue shirt.

I’ve spent hours organizing. I’ve donated 12 garbage bags of clothing that doesn’t fit me to the local charity. It felt good to let those things go. Now I regret not taking a before picture.

I will do my best to keep it this way. This is my new year’s resolution to the man who hasn’t said a word about the 40 lemons or gallon of grade B maple syrup sitting in our refrigerator.

Have mercy on the fashion whore.

Tuesday was a great morning to run. Marathena, Massoman and I each did our individual workouts on the track. Mine was a 20 minute tempo with a one-mile warm up and cool down. Tempo pace was 9:42 per mile. But the best part of the run was when Marathen and I decided to run the Houston Marathon in January! I’m not sure if I should be excited or panicked, so we’ll choose excited and I’ll add that to my list of races.

Wednesday was an easy 3-mile with Massman and BW. My Nano wasn’t working so I was a little more chatty than usual. I also attended a real yoga class at my friend Sherry’s studio. It was much needed. I’m sure Yoga Boyfriend was more than happy to stay in his box, especially after his last tongue-lashing after the prior week’s yoga abuse. After class Sherry and I went to a lovely dinner after caught up on way too many years of not keeping in touch. It was nice. If you live in the DFW area and need a good yoga session, check out Sherry’s yoga studio, InnerWisdom Yoga. Classes are very private with only a maximum of five students per session. You won’t regret it – it’s so much more than your typical yoga class.

Yesterday was an extremely bad day of cramps. This pleasure reminded me I needed to follow up with the bastard insurance company so I can schedule my uterine gutting. If my attitude doesn’t adjust a little Michael is going to gut me himself.

Today I have a 50-minute run scheduled – the first 3 miles I’ll run with Cindy and Deena. I’m really looking forward to it. Sunday I have an easy eight-mile run scheduled. Until then, enjoy this picture of my boys. Aren’t they handsome?

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UPDATE: Finished the the 3-mile run with Cindy and Deena. These girls are too funny! Walked 3 Donkey miles when I got home.

And Rikki is loved, she’s just psychotic – see, we captured a prozac moment.

Reading the Running & Rambling blog entry the other day made me think – and not just about the odd girl crush we all share for Shakira and her scary snaky hips. I also receive a lot of emails about my blog, and the question, “Does your husband read this?” pops up a lot.

To a certain extent, I can understand this question. Considering my absurd obsession with placing the terms “lesbian” and “porn” with the most unlikely subjects (“Rowdy could really use a lesbian iPod in his next feature film”), it’s really a miracle I have a husband. Especially since he spends so much time laughing at my efforts, because only he knows I really have no clue.

But yes, he is aware of my blog. Although that’s not due to his super sleuthing Hardy Boys training – you can’t do something 23 hours a day and not be noticed.

More importantly, he reads it and still loves me. I am a lucky girl. Despite the PMS moaning, my constant weight obsession, my hate/love affair with running, my hair, my boobs (or lack thereof), my detailed exploration of my bowels, and exposing his secret need to catalog and categorize our refrigerator, Michael still loves me.

And it’s reciprocated. He’s private, where I feel the need to share photos of me exchanging fluids with my computer. He is brilliant, although I try not to show how sexy I find his brain. He is incredibly kind and generous, as anyone who has seen him with Kenza can attest to. And despite taking up what could be extra shoe-room with his bikes, I find his athleticism incredibly inspiring. And on a completely shallow note, after several years of marriage, he’s still hot. I think it’s amazing that I get to be with this man every day.

I wish I could say that the bike did more for me . . . but the tight pants are okay! (and the little hairs coming out of the hat are cute too)

Last night my husband washed out the inside of the laundry detergent container. When I asked him why he responded “so we don’t get our trash can dirty with soap.”

Breakfast: 1/2 whole wheat bagel with cream cheese, red grapes, cantelope and that other fruit that looks like cantelope but is green, coffee, water. Morning weight: 128.4. Tired this morning, did not want to get out of bed. I’m still hungry too. Seriously thinking about finding some food somewhere. Snack: Fruit & Nut Bar: 140 calories Lunch: whole wheat tortilla with spinach, bree, tomatoes, mushrooms & horseradish sauce. Snack: 4 herhey kisses Dinner: My husband’s famous, I’ve got a bike part hidden around here somewhere penne arrabiata.

I have to say as the day is progressing that I am not feeling any better, I’m still VERY tired, I’m starting to cough and feel really hot and overall generally achy. Hopefully this will subside for our 16 quarter mile repeats tomorrow and tonights workout. BM: 10:05am, 4:15pm (loose), not much spotting. I’m also having the freaky heart beating too fast thing going on. Hopefully it will go away.

Workout: 30 min elliptical, upperbody weights & abs.