So if updates are few and far between, now you know why. I’m sure if I end up having more to talk about other than my training and quick updates, I’ll be back. If not, then you know where to find me!

How do others find time to balance their online presence(s)? And I’m not talking about those special few who are able to make a living out of it. Clearly, the majority of us do not.

Tomorrow? It’s the Track Shack Corporate 5k in downtown Orlando at 7:15pm. My office has been planning on participating for over six months. I designed our team shirt. Am I running? I have no earthly idea at this point. I feel tired just getting up out of my chair. The SO has threatened to keep me at home if things don’t significantly improve. If I can’t go and run, I will be extremely disappointed and pissed. I need a punching bag. Except, I don’t know if I have enough energy to punch anything.

Speaking of crap, we had the godson this past weekend. Well, actually, Friday evening through Saturday afternoon we had him. He’s always great; he’s 2 and-a-half but has the greatest attitude and always seems to be in a good mood. The poor thing got the shits on the way as we were taking him home to his mommies. We had to pull over and change him twice. (The car smelled like baby shit until yesterday.) Just as we pulled into their subdivision, he pooped again. This time, it was massive. We zoomed in, got him out and handed him over, crapped pants and all.   Actually, once we got inside their house, I volunteered to change him (I’m a saint, apparently). With me in front removing his pull-ups, his one mommy on one side and the SO on the other, we all said a collective, “WHOA!” as the pants came off. There was poo all the way up to the poor kid’s navel. I think I used an entire container of wipies getting him cleaned up.

So although there’s been a lot that’s been going on around here, at this point, I’m too poopy (as in attitude and general overall feeling) to write about it. Maybe I’ll get around to it later, post-antibiotic. For now, send good ju-ju so I can run the 5k tomorrow night!

Launching an online presence is still a daunting task, but with social networking sites like Twitter and Facebook, it’s really gotten a lot easier to reach a target audience. With that being said, I’ve been busy creating another site and establishing my online presence for that site. Having two Twitter accounts can be a lot like juggling; you want to make sure you’re tweeting from the correct account — and as a rule, I don’t retweet my tweets from one account to the other (at least not without a full disclosure). I’ve not hidden the fact that I am the same person behind both accounts, but one is for me personally (@ChariD), and the other is for my business, Intrepid Athlete Designs (@IntrepidAthlete). The Facebook page for Intrepid Athlete is here. If you’re so inclined, please become a fan!

Anyway, I just wanted to update the blog and make sure that all 1.5 of my readers knows what I’m up to and that I haven’t forgotten about this place.

I’m still running, just keeping up with keeping up and I have a couple, maybe three 5k races coming up. The first is the Corporate 5k in downtown Orlando on April 15th. The next is April 24th (maybe; I still haven’t registered) in Winter Park and the third is the Walt Disney World Expedition Everest Challenge. That one includes an obstacle course interwoven throughout the race — should be interesting. We have a 2-person team — my friend Jenn and I. Our team name is Twisted Sisters. Yes, it fits. We have matching Intrepid Athlete necklaces (2 discs) with our team name. We’ll also be wearing matching Bondi Bands which are red with white skulls all over. We’re stylin’ — get back now.

If you get the chance, please do go check out Intrepid Athlete and let me know what you think.  I also wouldn’t be too upset if you ordered a necklace or two.

Most of us have enjoyed coffee made in a coffee press. It’s outstanding and the flavor is to-die-for. (did I just write that?)

My Mom told me about how she makes her own foam every morning in a cheapy, old coffee press she has. She shared her secret with me, and now I pass it on to you. ::nods solemnly::

As per the instruction my Mom provided, I bought a good yet not too expensive coffee press for around $20 and brought it  home. I filled it halfway with SKIM milk — folks, it has to be fat free milk or it won’t work (I honestly don’t know if soy milk or other alternatives will work). I commenced to pressing — really quickly up and down — and it created fun, frothy foam! All for me — well and the SO. We had it this morning with our coffee and it looked so pretty in our “to-go” mugs we take to work. Yum.

See — I *do* have something to offer here! Learning stuff. Or something.

EDITED TO ADD: Be sure to use COLD skim milk. Oh, and don’t fill it up past about an inch — otherwise you’ll be wearing more of it than will end up in your coffee.

At the time, I was living alone in my duplex (I lived in/owned 1/2 of a duplex); a two-bedroom, one bath tiny place — but it was home and it was mine. The SO and I were dating then and we hung out with another couple every now and then. One of them, I’ll call her ‘R’, asked me if I’d do her a favor. She had bought a kitten and wanted to give it to ‘J’ for Christmas. The thing is, it was still 2 weeks from Christmas and she needed to “hide” the kitten somewhere until Christmas Eve. That’s were I came in. R wanted me to pick the kitten up from the pet store and keep it at my house until Christmas Eve, when she’d come by and get it.

Sounds easy enough, right? ::rolls eyes::

So of course, I said I’d do it. The next day, arrangements were made for me to pick up this little calico ball of fur from the pet store. She was beautiful, as most calicos are; I held her in the palm of my hand and she looked up at me with little flicks of light bouncing off the crazy, shooting fuzz hairs all over her body and head. I almost fell into a cute coma. She sat in her little box on the way home and cleaned herself. She purred and mewed and was downright sickeningly adorable. The next two weeks were going to be a breeze and I’d  have a cute little companion who would sit in my lap and sleep while I watched TV or read a book.

Then reality stepped in and I awoke from my trance.

The first night, I invited the SO over for dinner and to meet “Christmas Cookie” (R picked the name, so don’t blame me). When the SO got there however, Cookie was nowhere to be found. I figured she had been frightened by the doorbell or the extra person so I wasn’t too worried about it. Did I mention that I had a little dog at the time and had a little dog door that lead out to the backyard? No, I didn’t. Well I did have a little dog door that lead out to the backyard. I didn’t lock it shut because then my dog wouldn’t be able to get out and pee; he had issues.

Anyway, after spending an hour trying to find Cookie, it was officially determined that OMG, COOKIE WENT OUT THE DOG DOOR INTO KITTY HELL. How could an itty, bitty, fuzzy kitten survive out in the wild that was my backyard? We searched the yard, which was fenced, and could find nothing. It was then officially determined that OMG, COOKIE WAS EATEN BY AN OWL, or some other horrid predator that would completely ignore the cuteness that was Cookie and who would eat her in one gulp.

We freaked, to say the least.

All I could think of was that R had asked me to do this one simple thing and I had managed to not only get a kitten killed/eaten, but I had also completely ruined a very nice couple’s entire Christmas — before Christmas had even arrived. How talented am I?

The SO asked if I had a newspaper. No, I don’t have a newspaper — I lived like a frat boy — I worked, ran, ate pizza and dated the SO; that was my life, no frills, no newspaper. And why the hell do you want a damn newspaper? The world as we knew it was ending, small animals were dying and Christmas was now the date of a Major Disaster.

We got in my truck, drove down to the corner convenience store and bought a paper. We sat there in the parking lot and the SO looked through the classified ads looking for anyone who was selling/giving away calico kittens. Genius, if you ask me; R had never seen the kitten! We spent an hour on the cell phone in my truck calling all over metro Orlando and found no calico kittens. Apparently, Christmas Cookie was the only calico kitten around for miles. Except she wasn’t around any more.

We went back to my duplex and tried to brainstorm some more. That’s when I heard The Noise. It was coming from a stand-alone pantry near the dog door in the kitchen. Something was scratching and making knocking noises. Then we heard the little, “mew”. I pulled the pantry away from the wall, and out walked Christmas Cookie! Just like nothing had happened. I have no idea how she got in there, but she’d been all curled up under there sleeping and had just woke up and realized she didn’t know how to get out.

After locking the dog door (sorry, dog your issues will have to wait), we went into the bedroom. We had this thing where we’d turn off the lights, light several candles next to the bed and we’d sit in bed and read books and talk. It was usually very relaxing and a time to unwind and just be together. Usually.

Christmas Cookie had been laying between us on the bed, occasionally rolling over on her back to swat at our hands or jump up and pounce on our feet. She suddenly got up and walked the full length of the bed, up from our feet and made a beeline for my face. She sat on my chest and playfully tapped my chin with her paw. I turned to the SO, started commenting on how CUTE this kitten was, and in that moment, the stupid cat stuck her FACE into the candle that was sitting next to me on the nightstand. It was a nanosecond, she backed up and I grabbed her almost immediately — but the damage was done.

The kitten now had no whiskers. There were these scrunched-up black, stinky nubs in their place.

Two weeks was going to be an eternity.

From then on out, Christmas Cookie was placed into the bathroom sink (which I lined with a little hand towel), where she’d sleep securely. The toilet was closed as was the bathroom door. We cleaned up her whisker nubs as best as we could, but by the time I handed Cookie over to R on Christmas Eve, they still hadn’t grown back. R gave the kitten an odd look and then looked at me as I whistled a tune, shuffled my feet and looked elsewhere.

A few months later, we spoke with R and asked how Christmas Cookie was doing. She had fit right in with the 2 big dogs, the 2 little dogs and the one old grumpy cat already living there with them (it was a freakin’ zoo, people). R mentioned there was one weird thing about Cookie though — for some reason, she insisted on sleeping in the bathroom sink.

Have you ever done a favor for a friend and had it almost completely blow up in your face?