No mistletoe required:
Here's a challenge for all the eagle-eyed readers out there. I have artfully Photoshopped an element in the photograph below. Inspect it carefully--can you tell what I've changed? 
I was wrong about lambs being the new dogs. I think opium pipes are the new dogs:
You know what makes MY days bright? Getting my hair cut and styled! You can't tell from the picture, but my 'do smells fantastic.
Lessons learned from running the High Desert 50k last weekend, illustrated version:
Happy Birthday to Jason!
To celebrate, we gave him presents of a highly dubious nature:
"Vhat's zees? More of zee...how you say...geeefts?"
Having a Hallmark moment:
This post has been a long time coming. At last, I am the proud owner of a fetching pair of orange legwarmers. 
Yes, they are cabled AND ribbed. And no, I didn't make them. Are you kidding? I'm still making the world's longest scarf because I don't know how to end a knitting project. 
Equally adorable when scrunched. Note that I decided not to photoshop out my sexy road rash from the marathon last weekend. Battle scars, baby!
Poor Jason. His USC stipend isn't enough to pay for pillows, so he just uses the dresser drawer instead.
I've been tagged, and being an unrepentant narcissist, I've had no trouble thinking of fascinating* personal tidbits:
Jobs I've Had:
In celebration of the World's Funniest Sitcom returning to TV this week (Thursday night! NBC! DOOOOO ITTTTT) I present yours truly at the shrine of 30 Rock in NY: 
Apologies for the blurriness. I had two different people take this picture, and both were horribly out of focus. Thanks for nothing, nice strangers.
I went to NY to do a media event for About.com, and they sequestered me stationed me in a kitchen, where I made sample candies and tried to force-feed anorexic magazine reporters: 
The event was in the top floor of a midtown loft, and it had a pretty sweet rooftop view:
Requisite Empire State shot:
My last morning there, I ditched the first hour of meetings (true story) to go running through the muggy air of Central Park. The humidity was good enough to eat. 
Leaving was quite the ordeal. There was a huge storm, and dozens of flights were canceled. My plane almost didn't make it out, but after a 10-hour delay, I arrived safely in Burbank at 4:30am. I'll bet some of my fellow lounge lizards weren't quite so lucky:
This past weekend they opened up the Charlie Turner/Mt. Hollywood Trail, which is (was) the most popular trail in the park. FINALLY. The trail leads up to an overlook, then eventually connects to a winding trail that ends at the base of the Hollywood sign:
Pictured: the famous Griffith Observatory (the "hood ornament" of LA), the famous Los Angeles skyline, the famous Los Angeles smog. Pictured but not visible: the ocean.
Signs of rebirth all over the park...I have hope. 
This summer I've had the pleasure of doing some awesome trail runs along the Backbone Trail, which extends for 60+ miles through the Santa Monica mountains. Bruce has been the driving force and organizational whiz, and he's now completed the whole thing. (What a champ.) While I've only run parts of the trail, the sections I saw were beautiful--and challenging--and I definitely want to continue to explore...maybe by fastpacking it over an extended weekend?
My running companions, L-R: Bruce ("Rolling Hills"), Karl ("I Found A Shortcut") and David ("The Animal").
I'm smiling because the run hasn't started yet. Fortunately we had a nice steep hill to hike so that I could properly warm up.
David, on the other hand, ate the hills for breakfast...and then went back for seconds. 
The views were completely stunning the entire time. Too bad the trail was so rocky, we had to constantly choose between admiring the scenery and staying upright.
It's like the skeletal version of Mt. Rushmore.
It's hard to tell from this picture, but I'm straddling two rocks about 4 feet off the ground. There's a narrow passageway between them, and supposedly if you walk through the rocks, your sins are magically forgiven (according to a highly reliable webpage Bruce read.) I wish I'd have known in advance, since I would have sinned a lot more Friday night, but I made do. I don't know if it worked, but the air between the rocks was really cold and refreshing. I could have happily stayed crammed inside for a good half hour. 
I didn't get the memo about wearing Cho-Pats. How embarrassing! 
Bruce: We just have to ascend that trail for 4 miles, then it's aaaaallllll downhill to the finish.
Karl: Um, haven't you've been saying that for two hours?
Bruce: But these will be rolling hills.
I've fallen for Bruce's tricks for the last time!
(In all seriousness, he did an awesome navigational job. It's not his fault I'm a whiny baby who doesn't like uphills). 
Ultrarunner's secret #42: Pringles are the best method of sodium ingestion. Karl recommends seasoning them in a sweaty pocket for several hours. Gourmet! 
I don't have pictures of the end of the run, but the last few miles were definitely the highlight. We ended on the Ray Miller trail, and it was 3 miles of gentle downhill switchbacks, cruising towards the ocean. Sweeping views and a nice sea breeze made the pain disappear and reminded me why I love trail running.
Thanks, guys...let's do it again soon.
Sometimes people ask me how I knew Jason was "the one." Was it his intelligence? His sense of humor? His dashing good looks? His impeccable dental hygiene?
Yes, all of those things were important. But what clenched it was how well he fit in with my family. 
Jason and I are obsessed with 30 Rock in the worst way.
This obsession is partially explained by the fact that it appears to be based on our lives. Exhibit A: "Kenneth" is clearly modeled on Jason, while "Liz Lemon" is a poorly disguised version of Liz LaBau.
The original:
The knockoff:
The original:
The knockoff:
But these television dopplegangers are just one reason why this show is so brilliant. Alec Baldwin is fantastically funny, Tracy Morgan is surprisingly tolerable, and it's given us a steady supply of one-liners to interject into random conversations at inappropriate times. ("Teehee! Pregnant cornbread!")
But undoubtedly the best--and worst--thing about our 30 Rock habit is the tenacious tapeworm of a song known as "Muffin Top." I'll finally get it out of my head, only to have Jason sidle up and whisper, "Everyone knows..." and then I'm back to square one, with 30 seconds of infernal dance pop bouncing around my brain. Please, internets, take it away:
Important Update! Today Jason saw the actor who plays Kenneth on the street! Could it really be a coincidence that he runs into his televisual alter ego less than a day after I make this post? Worlds are colliding!
"Never explain--your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe you anyway."
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