Time Out for Seth's Birthday Week

I took a little blog vacation, and that’s because we’ve been busy celebrating Seth’s birthday/ week/ month (an extended celebration idea I think he got from my Mom!) We were hoping to observe the holiday, along with the also-rans Valentine’s Day and President’s Day, over the long weekend in California. Seth has never been, and I was dying to take him to meet friends and drive the Pacific Coast Highway and enjoy Valentine’s Day at a spa hotel with views of the Golden Gate…

And then Snowmageddon happened. We got over a foot of snow the day before we were supposed to leave, and the East Coast shut down. Literally. We went through six iterations of cancelled flights over three days before we finally, reluctantly, rescheduled the trip. Seth still made Valentine’s Day special, with gorgeous roses and presents and chocolate and wine… although I think the stuffed burger makers I got him, from an “As Seen on TV” commercial, were pretty inspired as well. We had various grilled meats at home, and spent most of the weekend inside with the hatches battened.

The silver lining was that I finally got my late Christmas present! Seth finally, after a lot of begging on my part, kept his Christmas promise and got into the pool with the aqua jogger, and he loved it. We spent hours running in the pool over the long weekend (the one workout we can both do right now!), and he’s gone every day since and even knocked out some lap swimming. He loves the no-impact cardio. And although I almost drowned him when he asked me why I had been “holding out” on him with such a great workout, I’m elated.

We made it to Mount Vernon for President’s Day- along with about half of DC- but it was beautiful in the snow. We couldn’t believe we had never been and vowed to make it back after a chronically loose screw on the prosthetic cut the walking tour short. (I’m still hobbling around in a boot cast, so we were a pretty pathetic pair.)

My birthday present was, as usual, kind of a fail. I ordered Seth an awesome custom Benelli shotgun with the help of one of his old football coaches, but of course it still hasn’t arrived. Poor guy got a card and a bottle of whiskey. I dropped the cupcakes I had picked up for him, and the banner I made fell on the floor before he got up. I really am the worst at occasions. (Luckily, Mom came through with bacon-topped cupcakes.) We did go out to a couple of nice birthday dinners with friends (why have one birthday dinner when you can have two?), and spent some great evenings at home watching the Olympics over a bottle of wine. One of my very favorite things about my husband is that he loves any and all sports and competitions. I think I caught him yelling at figure skaters at one point.
 

Snowmageddon of course manifested itself on the roads, so I had an abysmal week fighting traffic. It twice took me two hours to get home (27miles!), which is its own exquisite form of torture. Seth is to be commended for not locking me in the basement once I made it home on those nights.

This weekend was insultingly beautiful and warm, after the havoc wreaked by a week of storms. Saturday it was in the 60s, and I even took the new kayak out for a spin on Accotink Bay. We wrapped up Seth’s birthday week with a Restaurant Week dinner in Baltimore with friends, complete with hilariously bad service and a real, live hair in the soup. We will not be returning to The Black Olive, but a good time was had by all anyway.

Here’s to 31 great years, and many more to come, for the love of my life. He even had his own birthday message. Shameless self-promotion, reprinting it here, but I thought it was really sweet.  

I just wanted to say thank you to everyone that made my birthday day week so special. I should have typed this sooner but it seemed like every day someone was doing something to make the whole week super special. I feel very blessed to have so many great friends, family members, and mentors in my life that I truly love and respect.

Thank you, Amy, for making the last year of my life the best year of my life, despite the fact that it was also the craziest year of my life. I am thankful every day to be alive, and you make it even more rewarding.I look forward to living many more years with you by my side. Thanks for being my best friend.

Oh. The photo of the week is the one at top, of us literally blocking Mount Vernon. (Also entitled, "why you don't hand your phone camera to strangers.") This happens to us all the time. The first time was when we had just started dating, and we were standing on the steps of the Lincoln Monument. Of course the picture was our faces... and the steps. I guess it's tradition by now.any great friends,family members, and mentors in my life that I truly love and respect.

Thank you Amy Niemanfor making the last year of my life the best year of my life, despite the factthat it was also the craziest year of my life. I am thankful everyday to bealive and you make it even more rewarding. I look forward to living many moreyears with you by my side. Thanks for being my best friend

A Forced Slowdown

We had a rare down week, followed by a lazy weekend. Much of that was dictated, of course, by my limited mobility, but I guess slowing it down occasionally isn’t such a bad thing. Seth has been a literal saint, insisting that I sit on the couch while he does all the chores and makes dinner and fetches thing and hooks up the ice machine (which we inherited after Tony’s double knee surgery, and is amazing.)  He even admitted that having to be a one-man show made him appreciate how much I usually do around the house, which is every working woman’s dream. I’d consider this a major win, if I didn’t consider it akin to a prison sentence to sit on the couch while somebody else does stuff.

We did make it out on Friday night, for another trip to the Kennedy Center. We saw the Alvin Ailey Dance Company’s amazing show in front of a packed audience, and had dinner and drinks at a cute restaurant in Palisades on the way home. It was a lovely “city” night, and we followed it up with a much-needed sleep-in morning. By Saturday afternoon, though, my inability to sit around combined with my inability to get around had started to wear on us both, and we needed a plan that didn’t involve much walking. He must have been desperate, because Seth acquiesced to a trip to the outlet mall in Leesburg in search of a coffee table just to get me out of the house.

We lasted about five seconds of course, since we both actually hate to shop. We definitely did not find a coffee table. But Seth did somehow talk me into a side trip to a gun store.

Sunday we had brunch with friends in Old Town, and then spent a snowy day on the couch with mimosas in hand. Not bad, if you can’t go for a run.

Our biggest news these days, in light of what I’m calling the forced slowdown, is medical.

I got my cast wet Monday, and after a long day under drying lamps in the casting room (and a scolding or two for walking on it too much), was awarded a boot cast and a weekly requirement to check in. Apparently, I cannot be trusted to sit and rest. It’s a family trait. The Walters energy level speaks for itself, and Seth got in trouble for the same thing, many times.

He, on the other hand, has two amazing new accessories. The first is this BIOM foot. It has a 6000rpm motor that acts as a calf and achilles and helps him push off when he walks. Jury’s still out on it, but the early word is that he doesn’t care for how heavy it is. 

The second is the new ankle brace, which is already pretty indispensable. I’ll have to get a better class on how it works, but if it helps I’m happy. Plus, it looks really high tech. 

Photo of the week: Seth and Scott at brunch

Disaster at Uwharrie, and Silver Linings

I’ve never DNFed (for “did not finish,” reflected in the race results if you walked off the course for some reason) before. Lots of runners have, because of injury or illness or burnout or even getting lost. I almost did once, after a bad burnout at the Marine Corps Marathon a couple years ago following months of racing. I sat down on the curb at mile 17 and refused to go on, but Jackie Bergey- bless her heart- coaxed and prodded and half-dragged me through the rest, for which I will always be grateful.

And then, only 2 miles in to the Uwharrie Mountain Run 40 Miler, I jumped sideways- nimbly, I thought- to avoid getting my feet wet that early in the race. I heard some sort of awful pop and had to walk a few steps. I was pacing Jim, my friend Heather’s husband, for his first 40 (as she had done for mine), and he turned around and looked concerned. “I’m fine,” I told him. “It’s just twisted. I can run it off.” We ran by Heather, crewing for us, at the next aid station, and I yelled that I might need some motrin at the next stop. A couple miles later it became harder and harder to put weight on my left ankle, and it looked pretty swollen. I told Jim to go on ahead and promised I’d catch up with him. Before long, however, I was walking gingerly uphill and crab-crawling downhill, wincing in pain and afraid to examine the damage. One guy who passed me offered to carry me to the next aid station. Trail runners are the best.

At 8, the next time I saw Heather, she took one look at me and peeled off my sock. My ankle was black, and had swollen to the size of a softball. I could no longer walk. I checked my number out with the race volunteers, sat down on the ground, and sobbed. Heather eventually stuffed me into her old Chevy Blazer, which had been ferrying us and our wet socks and dirty clothes to and from trail runs for almost a decade and had years' worth of race numbers stuffed under the seats, and drove me to the nearest gas station. She came out with a six pack of beer and a bait bucket of ice, filled a nalgene with beer (at 9:30am), jammed my ankle into the ice, and told me she understood and I was welcome to cry, but we needed to catch Jim at the next stop.

I was numb, sad, and probably a little shocky. I threw up twice from the pain. Beer helped, and so did having a running buddy, who may not have been very sympathetic but who understood, with me.  Not only was this my first-ever DNF (no matter the reason, it still feels like quitting), I hadn’t done an ultra, or anything I was proud of for myself, since Seth got blown up. I hadn’t realized how much I had really needed this one, from a mental as well as a physical standpoint. Uwharrie had been my first ultra and held a special place in my heart. I had put a lot of things- like mountain runs- that I used to do, that were part of who I was, on the back burner for a long time. It occurred to me that I had built this race up to be a kind of “welcome back” statement for me. I was ready to get this part of my life back, and here was another crippling delay.

It all sort of hit me at once, sitting there in a lawn chair with my foot in a bait bucket of ice, watching other runners gut out my favorite race. I was crushed.  

When I was done wallowing in self-pity, having refocused on the hurting and abandoned Jim, Heather reminded me how lucky I was. I had done a lot of ultras on my own with no support crew. This would’ve been a miserable day indeed, without a warm car and dry clothes and that nalgene of beer.

 Seth showed up mid-afternoon, having spent a late night drinking with Brian, and whisked me away to the emergency room, concerned about a break.  We caused quite a stir at the civilian ER, a one-legged guy fireman carrying his wife through the door. Thankfully, civilian ERs move faster than Army ones, and we left a couple hours later with an inconclusive diagnosis and- you guessed it- motrin and crutches. I was still pretty miserable, but the crutches allowed us to enjoy the rest of the weekend with the Trimbles (including a very sore but victorious Jim) and Jackie and Kevin. Seth caught up with friends, Leslye made an appearance, Jackie and I made a mimosa-fueled Target run for old times’ sake, and Heather put on a killer Super Bowl spread.  It was a great time, minus the hobbling about, and reminded me how much I miss NC.

Back home after several sets of X-rays , an MRI, and countless hours in FBCH waiting rooms, the diagnosis is official: broken ankle and torn ligaments. Weeks and maybe months in a cast. No activity whatsoever for a long time (although Mom has some sort of crazy plan involving chair aerobics.) I hate hate hate being stuck on crutches and unable to carry things or do much, although Seth has been an absolute saint. Totally unprompted, he’s been doing chores, making dinner, and even went grocery shopping (which yielded a few interesting results.) Not only does this make me appreciate him even more- it’s nice knowing you have somebody you can count on to pick up your slack!- but it’s also made me think of his long journey back to mobility. I spent a lot of time worried about his infections and surgeries and pain and TBI, but I didn’t really take the time to think about just the general frustration of being unable to do what you’re used to being able to do. I can’t even carry my own coffee. It drives me nuts. Seth had many long months of that, and to some extent he must still struggle with it. And he does a much better job than I do of handling it without complaint.

So by way of silver linings, this whole thing- while disappointing and frustrating- is not a total loss if it helps us understand each other better, and appreciate each other more. I’m a terrible patient so I’m not sure if that’s what Seth is getting out of it, but I am.

Also, Mom has been feeling sorry for me and delivering food to the office. The pumpkin bread cheered me up significantly.

I cracked up last night as the Niemans spent our evening on the couch icing our various bum limbs. Life is funny, and we are learning to be grateful for every bump, bruise, and laugh. This has to be the photo of the week.

Snow!!

We got our snow day after all. Actually, the DMV shut down for most of the week over a foot or so of the white stuff, but after a lazy day at home which included snowshoeing (me), hunting (take a wild guess), and a highly suspect game of billiards on the finally-clean pool table (I won, if that tells you anything), it was time to brave the icy roads and get back to work. I felt terrible for the people with kids- schools were closed for most of the week, which was taking our “inclement weather” a little far, we thought. Just ask North Dakota residents.

Besides, we had tons on the calendar for the week. Seth got us tickets to see Shen Yun, a gorgeous show with a world-renowned Chinese dance company, at the Kennedy Center. It was our first trip there, and we got all dressed up and felt very cosmopolitan. Of course, we finished the night at Rock Bottom downing bar food and beers off the late night menu, so some things never change.

The following night, I had gotten us tickets forever ago (and nearly forgotten about them) to see Robert Earl Keen at the Birchmere. Our friends who warned us not to eat there had been correct, although we unwisely disregarded their advice, but they did have Shiner. And a very interesting crowd which included the usual hipster suspects, every real Texan within driving distance, and one very old lady doing the twist in a pink flowered pantsuit. We had a blast, and the show was terrific.

We had a quiet, at-home Friday night, and spent the cold, gray weekend surrounded by friends and food. Just the way we like it. The highly-anticipated polar plunge was cancelled at the last minute, to my disappointment and disgust (they didn’t think it would be cold?!), but we slept in and hit the home gym instead. Seth had a boys’ night involving giant steaks and monster trucks, and I got to catch up with Michelle and Kaelee over wine and Indian takeout (which nobody’s husband likes, so that was a win.)

Sunday saw the master chef at work again, making another vat of venison chili and lots of grilled meat. Our friends Lily and Dave are stuck at Walter Reed after he took some shrapnel in the eye, and with two young kids on their hands they needed to get out of their tiny apartment. Michelle and Josh brought the kids over, and we had a veritable feast while taking turns refereeing the kid circus. It was a little arctic for us to drag out all our new outside games (between Christmas and Seth’s recent round of ordering,  we could set up a backyard Olympics) and for Seth to show off his new BB gun (probably to the relief of the parent crowd.) We finished off the weekend with the Pro Bowl and Duck Dynasty on the DVR. We usually like to be on the go, but sometimes a weekend at home is just what the doctor ordered.

The photo of the week is one of my favorites ever. Lots going on in this one. This is what happens when you leave the boys in charge.

Recipe for a Killer Long Weekend

It might be my very favorite thing, spending time in the kitchen with my husband. It doesn't happen very often, since during the week I'm in tornado mode when I'm home, or we're tag-teaming chores so we can get a few minutes of chill time between commute and bed. And since we like to squeeze every second out of our weekends, we usually come screaming into the driveway on Sunday night in just enough time to throw dirty laundry in and scrounge for frozen leftovers.

It had definitely been one of those weeks, although I had squeezed in a painful but fabulous hot yoga date with Lily, and Seth had killed a couple deer, a rare "double" with a crossbow. Our long weekend plans to drive to Ohio to see the Laneys and meet the new baby fell through at the last minute when the littlest Laney got sick. I wanted to go snowboarding, as hasty plan which also went south when we realized there was no snow within driving distance in any direction. So Seth won the toss, and we headed to the Eastern Shore to shoot waterfowl. We've got the compromise thing figured out by now: we stayed at the stupendous Hyatt Regency Chesapeake, a beautiful resort with pools and bars and an indoor/outdoor hot tub and a huge gym that sparkles.

Saturday morning found us shivering in a duck blind with a couple of other wounded warriors and a hilarious rich guy who owns grocery stores and a chunk of hunting land adjacent to a wildlife refuge. Duck hunting is way less boring than deer hunting, at least partly because you can talk and have coffee and snacks. I had a new 12 gauge too, which Seth had spent all Friday shopping for, settling on a child-sized, camo-patterned Mossberg, and surprising me with it before dinner Friday. I couldn't wait to shoot it (and really wanted to kill a Canada goose, my running nemesis.)

Unfortunately, it was windy- and at times snowy- which should've brought the ducks in droves, but for some reason they weren't taking the bait. We got a couple- almost impossible to tell who shot what, I found- but mostly played with the goofy duck dog, ate sugar cookies, and tried to stay warm. I had a blast. Seth wasn't shushing me the whole time, and the new gun was a blast. I could definitely get used to this kind of hunting.

Still, 5 hours is pretty much my limit, and I bailed at lunch for amazing fajitas and Coronas at Don Chuy's, followed by a run along the bay and a dip in the hot tub with sunset views across the water. Seth went back to the woods to stalk deer. To each his own and all, but I definitely felt like I came out ahead. We had wood-fired pizzas for dinner downtown, with live music and good beer, and slept in late enough the next morning that we barely had time for a morning hot tub soak before checkout and brunch. (Cambridge, MD turns out to be a super cool town, with a historic waterfront and a ton of amazing restaurants. Even if the "no mimosas before noon on Sundays" rule chafed a little.)

It was a great getaway, and having escaped town on Friday made it feel like a long weekend, even without Monday. Which felt like a total free day, and found us staying in bed until an obscenely late hour and then just enjoying being home. I went for a long run with Steph and Bex, who was in town, and it felt like old times on a beautifully warm and sunny day. I came home to a messy kitchen and the smell of venison chili, and took the opportunity to chop vegetables while Seth tried to figure out how to get tomato sauce on all four walls and the ceiling. I love being in the kitchen with him enough that it's worth the cleanup, which is saying a lot.

Monday night we had one of our "every so often" trips into the city to remind ourselves why we don't do it more often. It was restaurant week, and we had a terrific meal at Oyamel, a Mexican cucina, with friends. Still, it was crazy expensive and the parking was a nightmare and the crowd was very, very hip. 

We were happy to retreat to Bethesda, and find that we much prefer our Sunday night "football and mimosas" tradition. Yes, Seth participates. Here's the evidence. Like duck hunting/ spa weekends, it's a pretty killer compromise that keeps us both happy. Even if it sounds a little weird. 

Photo of the week has to be the one I took of Seth's venison chili. Unsurprisingly, it appears to consist almost entirely of meat.

Oh, and we took this one at dinner. The Charlottesville Fam, minus Ryan. It was great to catch up with the old crew.

Of Bad Dates, Great Pizza, and Fun at the Range

My husband is a smart, opinionated guy, given to expansive lectures on any number of topics and a soft spot for knowing the most and being the right-est. His brain is probably what did me in, what feels like ages ago, since I’ll admit that I originally thought he was too pretty to be all that smart. Being way, way wrong was one of the most pleasant surprises of my life.

At any rate, we’re a lot alike, and that means we butt heads sometimes. We should really know better than to schedule date night at the end of a long week, when we’re both tired and a little more touchy than usual.

We checked out a new place on Friday, the Tower Oaks Lodge in Rockville, after a week of horrific weather and worse traffic and a lot of late nights working on a huge 62 appeal (me) and grad school admission packets (him.) We loved the place, all lit up with Christmas lights and decorated with big wood beams and rustic accents, with canoes hanging from the ceiling and ducks tacked to the walls. Still, halfway through dinner Seth (inadvertently, he claims) insulted me, and I pouted, and we endured a silent ride home.

I suppose that’s what marriage is all about. Knowing each other, and your collective strengths and weaknesses, and when to push, and when to shelve your feelings, and when to just stay home in sweats. We’re working on it. I suppose most married people are. It feels like one of those "work in progress" things.

I fled for Richmond and a much-needed girls’ night the next morning, and Seth went hunting for the millionth time that week. (Fighting traffic and deadlines while he gets to hang out in the woods perhaps, sometimes, maybe contributes to a shorter-than-usual fuse on my part.) I hadn’t seen Heather in ages, and the original plan for a wild night on the town gave way, predictably, to leisurely shopping, a manicure, and drinks at the bar on a Noah’s Ark-kind of rainy day. We went downtown for tapas and wine, and were in bed by midnight, which we decided was the new thing: the “grown up girls’ night.” Heavy on the sleep. After a stupendously relaxing massage and a mimosa brunch Sunday, I headed home, with a plan to stop at Wegman’s, change into sweats, consume a few mimosas on the couch while pretending to care about whatever playoff game was on TV, and forgive my stubborn husband for being a know-it-all.

Halfway there, he texted me with some sort of harebrained scheme that involved me meeting him at a Virginia gun store so we could circumvent Maryland gun laws by my signing for whatever his latest purchase was. He thought he’d sweeten the pot with the offer of some couples’ range time. I can’t say I was thrilled about the prospect, but figured I owed him for my desertion.

And of course it was a terrific time. I’m a reasonably good shot, but Seth is encyclopedic about guns and shooting and anything related to either. Plus, he really enjoys shooting, which is contagious, and is particularly adorable about how much fun he has shooting with his wife. I think he thinks it’s the ultimate couples activity. I can think of a few that top it, but we had an excellent afternoon. And I still got my mimosas on the couch.

And because a happy husband is apparently a really helpful husband, after a painfully long Monday, I came home to this. Homemade pizza, with tons of veggies. And wine. We may butt heads from time to time, but I definitely can’t complain. Life is good. And well-timed girls' nights are invaluable.

And Seth makes really, really good pizza.

Picture of the week is of our adorable (and so grown up!) niece, Natalie, with the stir fry set we got her for Christmas.

 

Ringing in the New Year

I stepped off the plane at Reagan tired, cranky, and already late for work. I had taken the morning redeye back to the grind while Seth stayed in North Dakota for another few days of sleeping in and drinking beer and ice fishing. I was a tad disgruntled about this inequity, to say the least.

But at least it was warmer in DC. About 40 degrees warmer, in fact. That cheered me up a little as I wriggled into my uniform in the parking lot and inched along the parkway in late morning traffic. And I already had plans for an old school slumber party at Mom and Dad’s, since Missy was in town for the week.

And so went the week, that week between Christmas and New Year’s that is always a chaotic jumble of the residue of one holiday, the buildup to another, and the sad fact that there are still workdays in the middle. I shortened my work schedule as much as I could and raced around town trying to catch a bit of the Walters family fun I was missing: stalking Mom in the pool, drinking beer over pass the pigs after work, and once even meeting Missy and Mom in uniform partway up the Billy Goat Trail. (I got a few stares, but also a nice hike on a weekday!) I did steal Missy for a quick trip to Charlottesville on Saturday, and we had a blast. We hiked up to Monticello in embarrassingly beautiful 60 degree weather, had soup and beer on the downtown mall, and met Mom and Dad for amazing pizza in Sperryville after their epic Shenandoah hike. Annddd we somehow found time for facials and wine and Christmas lights- always a win.

Seth made it back from the great white north in time for New Year’s Eve, the Niemans having previously decided against fighting the outrageous traffic and crowds and parking hell endemic to the DC bar scene on a holiday. Instead, Seth spent all day smoking platters and platters of various meats, and we had the family and Michelle and Josh over for games and champagne and a carnivorous feast. Oh, and a little crossbow shooting. A good time was definitely had by all, the vicious Walters family tradition of writing new year’s resolutions for each other notwithstanding.

And then, a little unceremoniously, the holidays were over and Missy was gone and the rest of us headed back to the salt mines. (Well, except for Seth, who was giving himself a holiday “grace period” consisting largely of hunting-- but I’ll give him that putting up with me on solo back-to-work-week probably earned him some solitary treestand time.) We were beat, totally unwilling to deal with taking down Christmas decorations or writing thank yous, and already way over our unoriginal new year’s resolutions (drink less, work out more, blah).

Inspired by mine and Michelle’s annual tradition of celebrating holiday survival with pedicures and wine, we embarked on a weekend getaway to the mountains instead. Although I learned the hard way that “relaxing couples time” is not to be had in a resort with a casino when one has a card-playing husband, we came home feeling rejuvenated after a snowy walk in the woods (clad in orange and toting heavy weaponry, of course), another NDSU national championship win, and a trip to the nation’s first hot springs. Rested, massaged, and even contemplating Christmas light removal, we’re officially ready to tackle 2014.

The photo of the week has to be Missy at the “Nieman Family New Year.” Crossbow and all. (Although the one just above is also pretty cool- at George Washington's own personal hot springs "bathtub" in Berkeley Springs, WV.)

Oh, and one more. Seth wanted me to add this one of his culinary masterpieces from New Year's Eve.