2 more hours of work. Time to blog.

Going on trips to Corpus Christi...

Cary now flying the T-1...

                  

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Chick-Fil-A for dinner!



You know what one the major perks of having a pilot for a husband is?

Having Chick-Fil-A sandwiches and Freebirds burritos flown in to you. Such blessed establishments are absent from our lives here in Del Rio, but now that the husband is flying the T-1 and going on out-and-back trips (or as Cary fondly calls them, out-and-snack), I've enjoyed having Chick-Fil-A delivered to my door by my sexy pilot husband. It is awesome. He flew to Corpus Christi yesterday and brought back 4 sandwiches. Definite win.

I've actually been working, all productive like, up until a few minutes ago, and I am just so over it right now. It's Friday afternoon, and I'm done. I woke up at 6 this morning to lead my running group on a 6 mile run! It was a good time. And we all finished in under an hour. So proud of my runners! I'm loving this running group. Not only am I excited about motivating other people to run, but it's forces me to run too! Plus, if I didn't come, no one would know where to go... So I sort of have to go. My ankles felt like they were make of cooked spaghetti this morning and I was running horribly, and on my own I probably would have called it quits at about 3 miles. But I had to suck it up, pretend to enjoy it, cheer everyone else on and not be a wimp. And there is nothing better than winding up your run before 7:30, knowing that you ran 6 miles while everyone else was probably still sleeping. I decided not to bring Abby the flabby labby because I didn't want to make her too tired, and she's still snubbing me for going running without her. I even put on my shoes on outside, hoping she wouldn't know I was going running without her, but she still figured it out. She's a smart pooch. But then again, she did run full speed into the glass door this morning, so I guess she evens out to about average.

Speaking of Abby, the poor dog can't walk anywhere in our house these days. We woke up one day to find that our floor mysteriously became extremely slippery. She flails around in a manner very reminiscent of Bambi walking on the ice :

 It's a combination of hilarious and pathetic. I am still quite puzzled over why our floor is so slippery. I mopped it, and it's still slick. It is very infuriating to hop out of bed in the middle of the night to go pee and end up nearly doing the splits and banging your head on the sink... or so I hear. The only logical answer would be that the housing people snuck into our house in the middle of the night and waxed our floors. I can't come up with anything else! If anyone can discover why our house turning into an ice skating rink, I will give you $5.

As soon as I get off of work, I'm off to a friend's house to make these bad boys:



Our Best Bites' Mississippi Mud Brownies

The fact that I ran 6 miles this morning gives me permission to eat half a pan of these, right?