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in the homestretch

I know you've all been holding your breath, wondering how I'm surviving the 24 Days of Non-stop Work.

This past Saturday, as I was loading/cleaning out the giant SUV I rented to drive journalists around all weekend, I locked myself out of my apartment with nothing but a bag of cat food. My neighbor -- god bless him -- helped me prop a ladder against the side of the building so I could climb two stories in a sundress (thank god I wore granny undies that day) and break into my bathroom.

And that pretty much sums things up.

But at least I'm not boob-sweating in Texas anymore. TexSom was a great experience -- in fact, I can't stop telling everyone about the incredible South African wine seminar I attended there (get your paws on the De Wetshof 2011 Bateleur Chardonnay if you are ever lucky enough to come across it) -- but man, it's good to be back in the Pacific Northwest.

Some parting shots from my time in the Lone Star State: 

Pink pants, no socks, loafers.

Cowboy + business casual + bike messenger + 90s baggies = You're on my blog

Yes, folks, those are green legwarmers with heels.

And you remember my embarrassing cockroach incident, right? This is what my boss found in the urinal at the hotel: 

You know it's a great working relationship when he takes photos of monstrous, pee-covered bugs and texts them to you. (Dear Washington: Best career choice ever! Hugs!)

Anyway, I spent the past five days hosting visiting writers for an annual auction event in Woodinville. There were no cockroaches, but there was this:

Perhaps he is returning from the Crisis in Candyland.

Also, I would like to commend my group of visiting journalists for allowing me to drag them on a rainy bike ride Friday morning. (This is why you shouldn't let me plan the itinerary -- I will make you part of my Ironman training, and we will do it in Pacific Northwest weather.)

At least the scenery was pretty. The Sammamish River Trail is one of my favorite spots.

And exercise was a good thing because the rest of the media tour was full of this:

One of the best meals I've ever had, no joke.

The crudo from Cafe Juanita. I died.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that I could barely zip up my dress when it was time for the main event.

Rented the date dress, btw.

Also, please note my accessory in the above photo. (No, not referring to the boy, although he is pretty, yes?) That is a wristband. For the transition area at Iron Girl. Because only normal people think it's a good idea to work a triathlon into an already-insane schedule. (More on that later. Seriously, so much to write, so little time!)

Anyway, I dropped off my last media guest at the airport at exactly 8:35 last night. So I am done hosting. And I will finally have a weekend off starting this Friday (although the travel won't stop -- headed to Vancouver for SeaWheeze). I see the light at the end of the tunnel (and it's shining brightly on $100 yoga pants that hopefully aren't see-through).

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