T.P.

I'm not sure whether to be impressed or disgusted.  I think I'm a little bit of both.

At 5am this morning, Wyatt woke me up.  As Friday's are rest days in marathon training, I had no intention of being up that early.  Wyatt, however, has become accustomed to 5am walks before I head out for my morning runs, so I dragged myself out of bed and took the little booger out.

Once outside, he sprints to the nearest grassy patch.  And...just...wow.

I knew he had gotten into the bathroom trash a few nights ago, but I had no idea what he had actually consumed. I mean, I had some ideas, but I assumed anything he ingested would at least have been chewed up prior to swallowing.  But there it was - a fully intact tampon. I apologize for anyone reading this who was unprepared for that, but imagine how I felt seeing that at 5am. Fully intact!! How does that even happen?!?!

I wouldn't be making a big deal out of this if Wyatt were a 90 pound lab, but Wyatt weighs a total of 16 pounds. A tampon is longer than his head!!! How did he do that?!  Wyatt is the dog that eats one piece of kibble at a time.  Seriously - he grabs a mouthful from his bowl, sprints to the middle of the living room, and eats one piece at a time.  This process is repeated until the bowl is empty. He is the dog that chews on the tag of his stuffed animals because that is the only piece he can actually fit in his mouth.  But here he is, inhaling an entire tampon and pooping it out. WHOLE.  WHOLE!!

Unfortunately for him, this means his nickname has evolved from "Wiggles" to "T.P."  Until he tops this, he will be known as the Tampon Pooper.  My dog is a freak.

Houston?

Houston. Hoouuuston.  H-o-u-ston.

Houston.

"Where are you from?"
"Chic... I mean Houston. I live in Houston."

Houston. The 4th largest city by population in the U.S. Chicago is the 3rd largest city. So they shouldn't be that different, right?

Wrong. Oh so wrong.

Chicago is a city. An I-don't-need-a-car-to-get-around city. A public-transportation-is-amazing city.  An everyone-lives-in-apartments-or-maybe-a-townhome city.  An everything-I-need-to-survive-is-within-walking-distance city.  An all-my-friends-live-in-the-city city.  A none-of-my-friends-are-even-in-a-serious-relationship city. An I-can-get-anything-I-want-at-any-time-of-the-day city.  An I'm-never-the-only-one-on-the-sidewalk city.  An it-takes-at-least-40-minutes-to-get-to-a-suburb city.

Houston...is a giant suburb posing as a city.  I would be stranded if I didn't have a car.  I have to Google the nearest grocery store. I have to Google the nearests Starbucks.  I have to Google a running path because who needs sidewalks when you drive your F-150 everywhere?!?!

And did I mention I'm on of maybe 5 single 20-something females in the entire city? 'Cuz I am. For sure.

But I'm making it work. Or more so, I keep myself busy with work. And through work I've met my closest friends. And work took me to Buenos Aires. And Paris. And London. As you can probably guess, I moved here for work.  And I love my job...85% of the time anyway.

Of course, there is much more to life than work.  There is Wyatt.  There is family.  There is running. And there is food. Oh there is food.  But this isn't another food blog, mainly because I don't have the patience to take pictures and note the recipe when I cook or bake.  What this is, is a creative outlet for a life dominated by Excel spreadsheets and PowerPoint presentations, marathon training schedules and race registrations.  Don't expect a consistent topic or theme.  Just go with it.