The menu has been written. The booze has been bought(en). Now I just need someone to come over and cook all this shit for me while I nurture a good buzz.
Italian beef: rump roast slow-cooked with beef stock, beer (taking suggestions), pepperoncinis and onions; Italian rolls with jardiniere sauce. (Okay, this will be pretty simple.)
Sausage, egg and cheese casserole
Prosecco and TJ’s Orange/Peach/Mango juice (Trust me, you’ll never want regular OJ again after you try this.)
Brown butter green beans (thanks Shelby!)
Mac and cheese (thanks Kace!)
Yam and butternut squash casserole (thanks Internet!)
(And my mother-in-law graciously offered to make dessert! WOO.)
I did purchase a ridiculous amount of booze yesterday at the super store, including vodka, Kahlua, prosecco, six bottles of wine and four big bombers of craft beer (three French hens, two turtle doves…). So much, it seems, the lady at the checkout counter felt compelled to encourage me to “be safe.”
That can’t be good.
Last night I did six miles at a 9:56 pace– 40 seconds faster than my 10k PR pace.
(Sidenote: I got a little excited during mile two because this girl passed me and my competitive instincts kicked in. I slowed down when we parted ways.)
I’d LIKE for this to be my half-marathon pace. I’d be shaving off a good 10 minutes, but I still think it’s a reasonable goal given the progress I’ve made in the last few months. I could have kept going but the park was closing and I had to get the hell out of there. (My regards to the park ranger who waited for me to leave before locking the gates!)
Also: Who else thinks the new “bird’s eye” view on the Garmin site is the BEES KNEES?
That’s the Eagle Creek Park I’m always blathering about. I stayed on the main road last night because it snowed about four inches Monday and I need some better trail shoes before I venture off the path again.
Buddy Kate just got a pair of those New Balance WT100s. They’re a trail adaptation of NB’s original MT100 “minimal” shoe. They weigh SIX OUNCES. She let me try them on and they felt woooonderful so I just might be picking up a pair.
Oh, wow. I’m even boring myself. Okay, sorry.
Onto the beer. Because you know I had one.
Southern Tier’s Big Red.
It’s a spicy imperial red ale (9% ABV) brewed with chocolate and caramel malts, and Hallertau hops, which as we all know, “are to a brewer what an old tractor is to a farmer — reliable” (please note kitschy tractor on bottle).
The bottle recommended I drink this from a snifter (bossy bitch), but I wanted to drink it out of my big red Kimmy glass (breakin’ the law, breakin’ the law). I don’t think anything was lost.
I’d definitely have this beer again. Southern Tier does the hell out of some hoppy imperials.
One more “wake up” this week, folks. And then it’s morning cocktails and afternoon runs for the rest of the year. (See if I’m joking.)