My running has been sporadic over the past few months. I was blaming that on my fooorever long commute, but since moving to KC three weeks ago, I still wasn’t feeling it. For some reason, Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” as my alarm doesn’t help me vault out of bed. And if I don’t work out in the morning, it’s probably not happening. I am SO a morning person. Last week, I changed my alarm. Nickelback. Just about anything from their Dark Horse CD makes me jump out of bed. Problem solved, and I am back on the wagon. It’s a good thing too – I unpacked my scale this week. Of course, given that I’m taller than I thought, that number isn’t really as bad as it could be – I’m only six pounds off from the range that I give myself. Give me a month and I’ll be back on track. For now, I’m just extra bootylicious. That’s hardly a bad thing.

This morning I talked my roommate into going with me. Let’s call her Juarez – that’s where her family’s from, but it’s not her real name. (Roommates are almost family, but they get some level of protection. Come on, that’s only fair, right? Reece wishes he was my roommate.) We’ve actually got another roommate who will be joining us in a few short weeks and we can’t wait! Maybe we’ll rope her into early mornings too. It’s always more fun to run with someone else. Even when you’re not running “together.” (That wasn’t a problem today. Juarez is shorter than SixFour.)

Take a look at how beautiful it is out there in those early morning hours. Care to join us?

Now that we’re finished with that, let me get back to the point of things. Every girl needs a girlfriend. I don’t care who you are, or what your relationship status is. (Though, thanks to facebook, I’m bound to figure that out.) You need one. Who else is going to tell you when those jeans really are NOT the best for your figure? Because if you don’t know, you’re never going to move on to the pair that makes you look fabulous. Girlfriends are where it’s at.

I had a couple girlfriends over for dinner this Sunday – LilSis and H20Lover. It was SO. Much. Fun! LilSis looks really similar to my actual sister Alisha, aka Absolutely. Gorgeous. Plus she’s younger than me. Hence the nickname LilSis. (Yes, I’m brilliant.) H20Lover is a HUGE fan of humidity. I think that’s kind of a crazy love, but since we all live in Missouri, I’d imagine it’s a better route than hating it. I mostly hate it. I am working on my attitude. Maybe if I spend enough time with H2oLover I’ll eventually espouse the virtues of humidity. (Yeah, I’m not really buying that either.) After spending an evening with them, I came up with a few reasons why girlfriends totally rock. Here you have it – add to it if you wish.

Ten Reasons Girlfriends Totally Rock

1. If you want to try out that new recipe, you can. If it fails, there’s always microwave popcorn. For the record, the new made-up recipe was a success. But the microwave popcorn was ready, just in case!
2. If you cook, they do the dishes. I wasn’t even expecting this one. Total BONUS.
3. You can spend all night talking about EVERYTHING.
4. And looking at pictures of cute men on facebook.
5. When you walk them out and their tire’s flat, you can all laugh about it.
6. And eat another chocolate molten cake.
7. And call someone – because face it, changing a tire isn’t fun. Especially when you can’t even figure out how to get the spare off. (Cut us some slack – it was a pickup truck. Not anything like my little Nissan Altima.)
8. When you get mosquito bites from being outside, someone’s got anti-itch cream in their purse.
9. And they’ll help you get the bites on your back where you got bitten THROUGH your shirt. Stupid mosquitos.
10. Best of all, they love you. And you love them back.

My youngest sister Cassie turned 10 this month. That’s right, there are NO Christensens left in the single digits! (Actually, I’m sure there are, but none in OUR immediate family. Christensen is a pretty common last name after all.) Alisha came all the way from Utah to be Cassie’s birthday surprise. Kind of fitting, seeing that Cassie is Alisha’s 2.0. (Yes, Cassie, when you look at Alisha you can see yourself in 12 years. Count your blessings.) It was so much fun to see Alisha, and then she left. Meanie. We are still working on that list of reasons why she should move out here. If anyone wants to add to it, PLEASE do. We can use all the help we can get. If you’re looking to add to a list of reasons why she shouldn’t move, please keep those comments to yourself. No one wants to hear them.

While you think of reasons for Alisha to move, I’m giving you a few more… Alisha, please pay attention.

• Dad built you a boat. Yes, I’m sure it was all for you, even if he’s been out fishing in it every day with the 2.0s. It would be rude if you didn’t use it at least weekly, and how are you going to do that living in Utah? The boat is obligated to stay on the family pond – it sinks otherwise, I’m sure. Especially if it’s in Utah.
• Yogurt! is more fun to play in Missouri. For all of you people out-of-the-know, Yogurt! is a weird game Alisha taught us when she was out here. You know the game “Slug Bug”? Yogurt! is kind of like that, except you don’t hit people. You just call out “Yogurt!” when you see a yellow car. Infinitely more fun than Slug Bug. (Or maybe I just think that because I’m better at Yogurt! than Slug Bug.)
• You can play the guitar in my postcard ANYTIME you want to. I know, I’m so generous.
• KC has the coolest old houses.
• UCM has your program. At least close to your program. So you could finish studying close to me.
• I will make you cupcakes on your (real) birthday. AND on your fake birthday. But I won’t make them so often that you get fat.
• And finally…. I love you! We all love you! All of us now-double-digit Christensens LOVE you! And we miss you already. So come home soon.

I moved out this past weekend (over Independence Day – how fitting, that I now have my independence back). It wasn’t that I don’t like my family. If you’ve spent any time at all on this blog, you know I’m crazy about them. But a girl needs her space sometimes. Combine that with a fooooreeeeveeer long commute, and you’ve got a recipe for moving. So I did. I now live over by the Nelson-Atkins Art Museum and I. Love. It.

A move like that deserves a celebration. I don’t drink, so champagne was out, but I thought chocolate-covered strawberries could work nicely. Then I thought that I like cupcakes even better than chocolate-covered strawberries, so I compromised. You’re looking at milk chocolate cupcakes, filled with dark chocolate ganache, topped with milk chocolate frosting, milk chocolate ganache, and a strawberry. Pure heaven. (And totally beautiful, until they melted from the heat.)

If you want to try making them yourself, they are pretty simple. Here you go:

Cupcakes:

• Make your favorite box cake mix into cupcakes. So. Easy. If you want to get crazy, head over to the Busty Baker’s Website for her recipe for chocolate cupcakes.

Make Dark Chocolate Ganache:

• Pour a bag of dark chocolate chips into a bowl.
• Scald about 1/4-1/3 cups heavy cream.
• Pour over the dark chocolate chips and let sit for about 45 seconds.
• Stir cream into dark chocolate chips. They’ll get all melty. Keep stirring until smooth and combined.
• Mix in 1 tbsp softened butter into chocolate.
• Let sit for a few minutes.

Make Milk Chocolate Ganache:

• REPEAT the same thing you did for the dark chocolate ganache, but use milk chocolate chips.

Frosting:

• Beat together 1 cube softened butter, 1 bag powdered sugar, 1/2 cup cocoa powder, 1 tsp salt, and 1/3 cup water. Adjust according to the consistency that you like. This isn’t rocket science, just frosting. Make it how you want it.

Assemble:

• Cut hole in the center of the cupcakes. You can discard the centers.
• Fill hole with dark chocolate ganache.
• Spread frosting over the top and cover the hole where you can see the dark chocolate ganache.
• Put a scoop of milk chocolate ganache on top of the frosting.
• Top with half of a washed strawberry.
• Voila, you are finished! Enjoy your chocolate rush. Happy Independence Day.

I’ve got good news – those nights of secret mud racing (aka those drives on dusty gravel roads with a wet car) are about to come to an end soon. I am MOVING! I think my favorite part is that I’m cutting my commute down to about seven minutes -infinitely better than the drive I’ve been making. Construction’s been adding time like crazy to my drive- normally it’s about an hour, but lately it’s been closer to two. Besides the money I spend in gas, the time spent in the car is killing me. You can only listen to so much music, and I’m running out of books on tape.

That’s not the only change that’s been going on in my life… these past few months have been full of them! T2 and I broke up awhile ago (an amicable sort of thing, don’t worry), and I’ve been back to dating all sorts of different guys. (Don’t worry gentlemen, I don’t blog about you without your permission. Unless you’re already related to me, and then you’re out of luck. Dad.)

Life is great… and now, back to mud racing for just a few more days.

I’m the oldest kid in our family, and I didn’t come along until my parents had been married for 3 years. They thought they’d maybe never get to have any kids. (Bet you’re surprised about that one, eight kids later!) When I was little, I was definitely a daddy’s girl, and my Dad knew it. Just in case anyone else forgot it, he taught me to say “Love my Daddy best.” So much for the whole candy bar theory, right? Thank goodness my Mom was patient with him.

Cassie’s got me beat though.  This week, she made “Love my Daddy best” seem like very. small. potatoes. She and Dad were doing dishes this week when I walked in on their conversation.

Cassie: “Dad, I’m going to be SO spoiled when I’m looking for a husband, because I’m going to want him to be as good looking and as hardworking as you. I’m not going to find ANYONE like that.”

Dad: “Well, it’s not time for that yet. But when it is, you’ll find someone.”

Cassie: “Oh, no I won’t. I will be too picky because of you.”

On Father’s Day today, I’m counting my blessings that I’ve got my Dad. He’s the best man I know, hands down. So even though Cassie’s got me beat, I’ll say it today – I love my Daddy best.

In about a week and a half, I’m moving away from living with the 2.0s (and the rest of the family – the 2.0s don’t live on their own yet!) down near my office in KC, cutting my commute from what’s turned into almost 2 hours one-way (gotta love construction on I-35) to about 7 minutes. (Between the time and the gas, it’s a no-brainer decision right now.) Thank goodness though, that I didn’t move any sooner. I would have missed out on an important big-sister job.

I was asleep this afternoon (recovering from a bad tooth infection – see, not a charmed life!) when Cassie came downstairs and woke me up with tears in her eyes. Our dog Spike got hit by a car, and he died. It wasn’t the driver’s fault – Spike loved to chase cars, and he’d never listen when we told him not to. It was such a common occurrence that our neighbors down the road identify our house as “the house with the two big black labs who always chase cars.” The driver today was going the speed limit, and Spike ran right in front of him. Even though the driver slammed on his brakes, it was too late for Spike.

I got to hold Cassie for awhile while we cried together, and then we went outside with the rest of the family while we buried him. Mom suggested we bury him right by our gate so he could keep an eye on everyone – now he’s our Guardian Dog. For once, I think he’ll listen when we tell him not to chase cars. But we’ll sure miss having to tell him that.

However, yesterday I decided to venture a little and wear some heels that are not so tall. It’s not that my heels aren’t comfortable – on the contrary, they are quite comfortable. But I was feeling adventurous. Enter the itsy bitsy teeny tiny heel of an inch and a half. Easy, right? Even if someone had bad knees and a bad back (which I do NOT), they could so walk in these. Imagine my surprise, then, when the itsy bitsy heel got caught in a tiny divet at the Crown Center parking lot. And I fell. Flat on my face. Impressive, huh? So much for venturing.

One very bruised knee and arm later, I have made a decision. Four inch heels are safer, at least for me. And I don’t know about you, but the world is a pretty great place from the height of 5’2″. So until the next adventure, I’m sticking to the haawwt shoes. If you want to borrow the itsy bitsies, feel free. I won’t be wearing them.

Christensen women get a little vocal when we’re mad. I’d like to say it’s part of our charm… after all, you won’t ever have to guess IF we’re mad or WHY we’re mad. So all of you men that say you can’t read minds… there’s no need at our house. You can thank my mother for that gene. (Or my grandma. Or my great-grandma. So really, it’s probably not a Christensen gene. It’s more like a Jones gene.) My 2.0 wasn’t too happy this past week. One of the boys did something to set her off. When she started to give him an earful (she wasn’t expecting a mind reader, after all), he made the unfortunate mistake of telling her “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” He was quickly corrected:

“I am NOT cute. I am MENACING.”

Take note gentlemen. You heard it here first.