in the wilderness, or, how we maybe got the hantavirus.

OK, I have been slacking on the blog the past few weeks, but things have been crazy. One of the fun events being that cousin Matt came to see us from California. We had a wonderful time! I took him up to the top of Angel's Rest to catch a nice view of the Columbia River Gorge. We were up at the top, having a snack, and this brave little chipmunk kept practically running over the tops of our shoes. So, what does Matt do? He bends down and puts his hand out, with an almond in the palm of it, to feed the little dude. And what does the little bugger do? Bites him, of course!

Doesn't he look innocent?

I was pretty insistent that we take Matt to the hospital, but he protested and said "No! Nothing happened the last time an animal bit me." I said "you mean you've done this before?" Turns out, he's been bitten two OTHER times by wild rodents. The first time as a kid when a squirrel attacked him, resulting in rabies shots, and the second time in college... doing the EXACT same thing he was doing when this guy bit him.

Anyway, that was a week ago, and he seems to have survived. I wasn't so much worried about rabies as I was about some sort of chipmunk fever or bringing the plague back. He's gone to see his folks and hasn't come down with any strange diseases... yet. I know, there's some kind of joke in here about squirrels and Nutts... just let it go, man.

are you sure it wasn't brews then bridges?

I've run across dozens of bridges in my running career. Footpaths over Lake Shore Drive, bridges over the Chicago River, even icy crossings constructed from two-by-fours and love. Never have I fallen. Until Sunday. I went down hard, thinking "MY FACE!" the whole time. Ugh.

Now, I haven't been doing much running in the past several months. After our failed attempt to train for a marathon in one of the hottest summers on record in Chicago (luckily derailed by moving three time zones away), I was pretty sick of running. I took a break. For half a year. Yes, I grew a little beer belly. I did hike, and walk, and run on occasion, just not more than three or four miles at a time. I bought some little weights and did OnDemand workouts. Then we got the brilliant idea to sign up for the Bridge to Brews 10K, and we didn't train for it. Needless to say I was pretty nervous about running, but I've been yoga-ing, so my core strength felt good. And my aches and pains earned by a few years on the pavement seemed eased. I figured I could at least finish, even if it wouldn't be pretty. Plus, we paid good money!

I don't know if you were aware of this, but Chicago is flatter than a pancake. I grew up in flipping KANSAS and I think Chicago is flat. Not one damn hill. Portland, on the other hand, is the city of hills (actually roses, but I say hills). Knowing the change in elevation would be a struggle for me, I started off slowly and sent the hubs to run ahead at his own pace. He looked really unhappy when a 9-year-old zipped by us, so I sent him on his way. Approximately 45 seconds after he left me, crossing the Fremont Bridge, and I planted my left foot on a grate, caught my right toe on a bolt, and went straight down.

The good news: I only got stepped on once, nothing was broken, and I landed on my butt before my hands! The bad news: My PRIDE was injured, and if I had not fallen, I would have finished in my best per-mile race pace ever (sub-9:30... fast for this slowpoke). Oh, and at yoga yesterday, a girl recognized me as "the girl who fell on the bridge, we wondered if you finished!" Yes, yes I did. Just call me tougher than I look but still whiny. And really angry about that time! Dare I sign up for another race.... ?

oh mi oh my.

Ummm, I cut my finger to the bone last night. My most important finger. My giving-the-bird finger. Now I'm worried it's going to fall off. I know... I'm being a giant baby, but it's pretty much the worst injury I've ever sustained. It may have required stitches, but luckily my awesome brother brought me first aid supplies and we fixed it. And now I can't button my pants.

An aside, this reminds me of a game that my brother likes to play called "would you rather?" with twisted questions, that a certain friend of mine is very good at asking, like "would you rather have fins for hands or all proteins and vegetables taste like rusty nails?" This inevitably leads me to ask if I'm able to put on my own pants and a bra if I have fins for hands (the answer was yes, I would learn).

Anyway, the lesson here is USE THE SAFETY GUARD THAT COMES WITH YOUR MANDOLINE SLICER. Also, make this recipe below from Fried Wontons for You. The hubs doesn't like corned beef, even on St. Patrick's Day (I know...), and sandwiches were on my mind. It's hard to make things that are convenient for a late-night meal. This was perfect. I think of it as a take on bahn mi, and it is amazing.

The pickling technique is ingenious and I will be using it again soon. Who knew it could be so simple?! I roasted the pork early in the day, sliced it cold, and made sriracha mayo instead of the mustard. Also, I sprinkled minced red onion and a hearty handful of cilantro onto butter-toasted sourdough rolls. So. Freaking. Good. Would be really great for a casual party on small tea rolls. I can't wait to make it again!

Roasted Pork Loin Sandwich

P.S. Sorry there are no pictures. Hers are better anyway. And this took me 45 minutes to write with my Franken-finger. OUCH.