hell freezes over (i eat a salad)

I give up.

You win.

Fine.

After twenty nine years of protesting vegetables, I've finally decided that maybe......MAYBE, you're right.

Last week as Paul and I discussed what to have for dinner, I offered to make him a salad. You should have some, he said. He had that tone like he was double dog daring me, and before I knew what was happening I said fine, I'll have some.

Good, he said.

Good, I said.

Then, I started hyperventilating.

As I seasoned the chicken and scrubbed the sweet potatoes, I thought......this is a pickle. A tight spot, to be sure. Could I get out of this? Was there a loophole? Did I say "maybe I'll have some"? That would totally give me an out, and then I could just.........

Geez. There wasn't any loophole. I was going to have to eat a stupid salad.

I placed the lettuce leaves gently on my salad plate. I felt like I was preparing for a funeral. My own funeral. I was going to die of eating salad. At least I could say I'd actually had ranch dressing on vegetables. I found consolation in that idea.

When I had eaten my chicken and sweet potato, I glared at my salad plate.

I hate you, salad.

I hate that you're green, because I really like the color green and I don't want to associate such negative emotions with such a great color, and I hate that you crunch in a weird sort of way, and I hate that I have to eat you to be healthy.

My fork wavered over my salad plate. Technique. What is the proper technique for salad eating? Is it better to mix in the dressing prior to consumption? Mixing was probably best, I decided.

I took a bite.

Nothing. No gag reflex, no vomiting.

I chewed, swallowed.

It was a miracle.

So I guess what I'd like to say is, I'm sorry, salad.

I don't hate you anymore. I will now moderately tolerate you. Also, thank you for not making me gag, or vomit. That was really quite decent of you. I'll remember that when I'm introducing my kids to you.

this is paul's salad. no way am i eating that much green stuff.

this is my salad. i think more than three leaves totally counts as a salad.

me, prior to making up with salad

finishing the last bite (note the telltale puddle of ranch on my plate)okay, i guess it wasn't that bad. apparently i'm not ready to admit that.

the coldest i've ever been

See this, right here? This is not it. This is me, frolicking in California last week. Note how not cold I look.
Paul and I flew out to stop my brothers from killing each other. Okay, not really. We actually flew out to enjoy some quality shenanigans with our families. No conflict resolution was involved. This incident ended peacefully. Some indian burns may have been involved.

A couple days after returning from the land of milk and honey, we drove to D.C. with Kevin and Ryanne and their good friends Sandy and Tim for the inauguration. Mad props to Kevin for this sweet angled shot. I think it captures beautifully our thoughts and emotions at that moment: Andrea- I am so pleased I can feel my feet right now. Paul- I am in no way experiencing hypothermia. Nicely done, Kevin.

After an awesome day of looking at historically significant artifacts (dude! we saw the magna carta, for reals!), we thought we'd have our picture taken in front of this pretty white building. Still, not the coldest I've ever been.

So, I guess you have to get up pretty early to be first in line for one of the 21st Century's most anticipated events. Here, smashed up against a lot of happy strangers with some of my favorite people at 6:30 in the morning, I thought......yeah, getting pretty cold.

Uh.......awesome.

This is it. The coldest I've ever been. You can't tell, but here I have on leggings, tights, two pairs of socks, jeans, a tank top, two long sleeve shirts, a turtleneck shirt, a sweatshirt, scarf, hat, gloves and puffy coat, and I am still completely fa-reezing. For seven hours, I jog in place and watch as one of our nation's most historically significant moments unfolds.

I have to admit, as I jog in place and pray that my feet won't fall off, I feel a little guilty. I mean, I've never been a very political person, and I know people who would have jogged in place for much, much longer to have the opportunity I was being afforded.

As I wait for Ryanne to come out of one of the port-a-pottys lined up for what seems like miles, I pace. Got to keep the blood flowing. Foot retention has always been a priority of mine. A woman is walking toward me; I shift my pacing to the right. Still, she's about to run into me, okay, shifting pace to the- oh, wait. She's walking up to me.

She says hello, asks me how I'm doing. It's a cold day, isn't it? Through chattering teeth, I agree. An exciting day, isn't it, I say. She smiles. We're all cold, but we have warm hearts, she says.

I'm not so cold any more.

on fighting ninjas in the jungle

Okay, so if you're in the jungle and have to fight off ninjas using only 3 foods, what would they be?

I thought of this question as I ate my morning cheerios.

The only thing is, I'm not sure why you're in the jungle and how the ninjas got there, but when you're in that sort of a situation, you don't really question, because the point is there are ninjas that you need to fight off, and you're not going to get anywhere just asking yourself why, are you?

Exactly.

I thought chewing gum would be good. All you do is chew up a whole bunch and stick it on the ground, and then all the ninjas are like "hey, we're stuck!" and can't chase after you. Then, you use a turkey like a bowling ball, and just knock the ninjas over.

Paul thought M&Ms would make for a good distraction, and then you use coconuts to knock them out. Reagan thought of coconuts too, but she also thought of using banana peels, which I have to say I considered in all ways brilliant, because that's not only effective, but funny too, and who doesn't appreciate a little humor whilst battling ninjas in the jungle?

Wow. I think I need to go to bed.