What did I just do?

So after telling several people this week that I would not be running a marathon, I signed up for a marathon today. Blame Jon and his pep talks, but at least he's running it with me.

If anyone else wants to join us, today's the last day to sign up before a price jump (it's the Seattle Rock n' Roll Marathon June 27).

just too good.

Jon and I have gone to see this local band, Nurses, play a few times. We really like them, but it takes me about 10 minutes to get a hold of myself and not almost laugh...

Because two members look almost exactly like our friends Jameson and Christian (think Christian when he dyed his mustache brown, and Jameson still had a glorious beard before it was shaved for naught). See? I can't get over it.

Love is...

The Waffle Window. (Basil, bacon, and brie, if you're wondering.)

Running eight miles.

A Glockenspiel.

Playing cupid.

(also noted--lots of dark chocolate, a new-to-me dress, angel food cupcakes, a husband who misses his favorite band because someone was not feeling well.)

You know you have a great job when...

You are sitting at home, evaluating the list of search results from someone who searched for the diagnosis of their STD-like symptoms. Or, another searcher takes you to a complicated journey through the pointless world of Dungeons and Dragons.

This should not have been blog worthy. And yet, here we are.

I made a comment the other day how we had seen nary a spider in our apartment. Karma brought me this.

Today I went for a run in beautiful, sunny, February weather in the high 50s. I am loving the winter right now. However, aside from Arctic Blast 2008, the non-freezing temps have one drawback--Insects that are normally frozen and obliterated have a chance to thaw and live. Last night, a winged beetle-thing (huge!) suddenly buzzed in from who-knows-where and started zipping around our house. I started screaming for Jon to come save me from this deathly creature, and as it turns out, we are both reduced to squealing messes whenever something larger than an inch invades. (Lest not we forget the April 2008 mouse incident(s), when Jon screamed, sprinted, and babbled at the sight of the mouse that refused to die.) After a lot of magazine waving, lysol spraying, and panic attacks, I trapped it under a cup and Jon squished it. I threw it away as Jon left hurridly to "study." It's one of those instances where I look back and think "Did I really need to act like that?" Or, more importantly, "Did Jon really need to act like that?"