Dana Burland

Patient name : Bullet, Silver Patient number : #6690 D.O.B. : 2003 Mileage : 144,000…give or take a semi-cross country trip or two. Sex : Male Race : Silver Medical history : Sprained back side fender in 2008 Medications : Pennzoil (5Q), taken orally every 6 months Symptoms : Patient constantly displays ‘emergency brake on’ light; even though the freakin’ emergency brake is NOT on, and hasn’t been on for the last seven months. Patient also experiencing occasionally malfunctioning cruise control buttons. If issue persists, use peanut butter—in Reese’s cup form—to ease the irritation of a driver who must make occasional cross-state highway trips without this functionality. Diagnosis : Seasonal allergies/car sickness Prescription : Rest, a car wash and an early spring.

I used to be intimidated by chefs who cooked with wine. Surely someone who perfected a wine glaze during their years of cooking school knew how to do it better than I can. Part of me romanticizes the idea of mastering a wine glaze while wearing a white chef’s coat; but a bigger part of me doesn’t want my creativity to be extinguished by intense training on the ‘right way’ to sear lamb chops. Cooking class for a day? I’d love that. But right now, I’m counting this ignorance as bliss. I had all my experimental (also known as stubborn) wits about me when I decided to make my own wine sauce a few months ago. I could have at least done a little online research but this time I wanted to try it my way. In a z-snap -to-the-world moment I grabbed a bottle of white and went to town. I used to be a wildly creative, marches-to-the-beat-of-her-own-drum, kinda gal—in and out of the kitchen. Maybe I’ve been tempered by mistakes—like the microwave Pop-Tart "toasting" of 1994 (editor...

My apartment is a never-ending current of change. Throw pillows are evicted from one couch and relocate to another; trinkets jump from shelf to storage bin and back again. What can I say, I like my living spaces like I like life—moving fast enough to avoid collecting dust. I also dislike dusting. This guy is the most recent addition. Most terrariums are low and wide, but the height of this vase gave me good structure for choosing inhabitants. My thumb is not so green; then again succulents are supposedly not so needy. I wish you much success here, little plants.

Sunday morning was deviously deceiving. The lake out back looked peaceful with a finally fully frozen lid; and the way the sun hit the dust of snow on the deck made it glitter. The temp was 15, with a feels-like temp of 1. It’s colder (and snowier) now, but the air seems to lazily stand still. Maybe like we’re only capable of hearing to a certain frequency, we’re only capable of feeling up to a certain deep freeze. For that, I’m thankful… I think. I really was thankful, on Sunday, when B put in a request for chili. I opted for this no-frills, fast slow-cooker recipe mostly because it was a third of the calorie count of some frillier recipes I found. I set it up in the morning and by early afternoon had a nice cozy pot of—watery chili. Blerg. I thickened it with a quick cornstarch mix and was surprised to find it was actually good. The only other to-do item on my Sunday agenda was to get a run in. Single digit temps meant it would be at the gym. Treadmills kill a runner’s sens...

It’s not time to do laundry until my bedroom becomes un-walkable. Then, I’ll load up a basket, drop the contents into the washing machine and let ‘er spin. In my apartment dirty clothes litter the floor and whites are denied their own load. We live in an imperfect world. Normally I’ll pour in lumpy detergent and go on a run or an unapologetic, non-showered grocery trip before the local herd gets loose. But if the milk jug I store my detergent in is low, my morning plans are temporarily postponed until I make more. The first time I grated a bar of soap down for detergent it was done in angry retaliation. How-to homesteading articles on the health/environmental website I worked for taunted me. Try. Try. Try. The teenager inside of me prayed my clothes would come out mangled and spotted in spite—but they didn’t. Defeat has been sweet, and empowering. I’ll likely never learn how to fix a gurgling garbage disposal or right a wonky water heater, but dang it all if I can’t simmer the he...

Usually my limited post-work hours are spent in a blur between working out, working on dinner and working a cozy indentation into the couch with a book in one hand (currently “ A Dog’s Purpose ”) and a warm drink  in the other. When 10 p.m. hits, it takes all I have left just to crawl into bed and pass out. Captivating, I know. But today, I’m sayin’ screw it. I have what feels like a minor incoming cold; the torturous Bosu ball workout my trainer led me through last night means I can’t comfortably lift my tea mug to my mouth; and I suddenly want quiche, real bad. It's gonna be a night so crazy I might wake up tomorrow with my name tattooed down my arm. I’ve grown to love a lot about my routine, but tonight I can’t wait to ignore it all—as soon as I make this , that is. 

A non-published-on-RW.com photo Amid holiday chaos, I missed my guest blog going live on RunnersWorld.com . (Cue the fireworks! Or at least observe my geeky laugh/snort of pride/excitement.) At the start of 2011 I decided to amp up my running and racing with a monthly 5K project. The result was a lesson in many things, not limited to patience, blister-care and costumed racing. For your reading, running and New Year's Resolution making pleasures, you can read all about it  here  or here . (And if you want more deets, here's part 1 , 2 and 3 of my mid-project recaps.)

This is my third annual blog/life recap. Third! Honestly, I don't love writing these. I'm not an incredibly 365-day reflective person; I don't find December 31/January 1 to be some monumental holiday or a wiping of the slate. But, it's blogging tradition. And, I 2011 and 2010 's recaps make me giggle. . Happy New Year, friends. January ,   Roasted Chicken      I ran. A lot . Kendal called me with the announcement of her engagement . I cried my little eyes out in excitement. I excitedly cried while telling B and excitedly tear up thinking about it. #weddingbawler February ,   Lentil Soup   Q   Bucks County, PA   C   Started my family tree project Black crows by the billions plagued my town. In unrelated news, B and I booked a quick getaway to the retiree-friendly community of Bucks County, PA. I started my family tree project and enjoyed soap-opera-esqu emails. Not enough people marry their brother-in-laws these days. ...