Fart Patio


Labor Day 2013 has been a massive success. How do two adult children with too much time and very little motivation spend this free, labor-free day?

1. Recover from hangover with giant Chipotle burrito. Being on the West coast has it’s perks and the braised tofu sofrita option is a huge one – nothing like mexican food to absorb an evening of frivolity and regret.

2. Do laundry. And by ‘do laundry’ I mean put a load in and forget to move it to the dryer until it’s to that questionable point where you hover over the washer deeply inhaling the wet clothes and deciding between another wash or 5 additional dryer sheets is the solution to masking the mildew scent

3. Re-watch 4 of the 6 episodes of BBC’s Sherlock and both decide that if Benedict Cumberbatch professed his love to either of us, the moral and logical thing to do is to break up. Then of course comes the conversation around how we would divide our shit (I hope that never happens – I have no use for so many towels and growlers).

4. Watch Star Trek to get hyped up for Star Trek Into Darkness (Amazon early purchase option bitches). Again, Benedict Cumberbatch – noms. Evan decided if Benedict chose him as his mate he would want to call their son Quinn, that way he could be called Q. Cumberbatch. Get it? Yeah – stupid.

5. FOOD!!! Buffalo Jackfruit and grilled corn with homemade vegan ranch dressing. Recipe coming soon.

What a glorious day. Yet there is always a cost to fun, and in this case 2 days of alcohol and long training runs and vegetables our house sounds like an orchestra of trumpets and smells like a garbage pail kid. In tribute to that, let’s call it a “sensory experience” at the Schmidtman residence we give you this gem by our friends at Portlandia.

Superpowers or David Foster Wallace? Why everything just works out for me

I called my mom today and broke the news that I’m very likely an X-Man.

After explaining to her who the X-Men are…

(let’s face it – when the whole ‘Ma, Wolverine and Storm ma’ was crickets, I was successful with “they are GMO superheros and villains”. Luckily I’m fluent at speaking three languages: Affluent Trader Joe’s hippie, sassy hearing impaired elderly, and sarcasm – I will not share which of those is my mother. But she knows.)

…I shared that everything that I think about lately is just manifesting into my life experience. I’m not ready for a meeting…BOOM, it gets cancelled. I’m thinking of calling a friend I haven’t talked to in years…BOOM, they call me. I want to fly back to my hometown in Iowa but it’s crazy expensive…BOOM, work trip to Iowa in two weeks paid for BY work. I’ve been wanting to have a legit chance at writing something to get published…BOOM, my lovely friend writes me and offers me that chance. It’s like The Secret ya’ll – the better it gets, the better it gets!

Mom of course reminded me of the Law of Attraction – that I’ve been beating the drum of joy and gratitude these last few months, singin’ in the rain and viewing all my ‘negative’ emotions as taps on the shoulder from the universe that there is something important to learn NOW. Her loving words to support me through tough times with tough people are, “It’s not them honey, it’s YOUR shit to work through.” So, even on days where I’m handed a sandwich that is 95% shit and 5% Tofurky, I’m calling that shit a Tofurky sandwich and enjoying every bite. Noms Mom. Noms.

Sakyong Mipham talks in his book ‘Ruling Your World: Ancient Strategies for Modern Life’ about “being a student of cause and effect”.  When I trace back the lines of time to when the supernatural goodness began, I stop at many platforms/causes along the way like learning about the Law of Attraction and giving up my addictions for healthy food and movement.  In recent history things really began to click after listening to this one speech by the infallible David Foster Wallace. I’m confident the message in this speech was thee ah-ha moment that put us back on the killer path of awareness and optimism, of relishing in the nuggets of joy that exist in the present moment, of practicing allowing not tolerance, and that ultimately ignited the not so coincidental coincidences over the past month.

The only thing that’s rocking my boat at the moment is I don’t know how to use Photoshop to mark up the badass picture in my mind of my signature X-Man look. If I had one word to describe this fantasy look it would be guns. If I had two words, they would be finger guns. Yep, I need two words.


Memorial Day Metamorphosis OR Braless Circuit training OR The Hitchcock Dilemma


Today I have made the unrequited transition from a youngster to a full-blown woman.

Certain rights of passage go unspoken by our forefathers and mothers as growth manifests in the recognition of approaching a defining moment as it is in the moment itself. Those who reared us, instilled value and stood by to help raise us up in times of darkness, acknowledge we are all tapped on the shoulder to face a moment of greatness and, when our time comes, their guidance may give us the strength to answer with grace and greatness. So here I was – alone over this long weekend facing one of these terrifying, raw, defining moments. And, alone, I stood against the right of passage I was unprepared to face.

A mf’ing bird got trapped in my garage.

Like an innocent victim in a horror movie, I was casually going out to get a diet ginger ale from the beverage fridge when I was dive bombed by a menacing squawk that sent me simultaneously screaming and tiptoeing into the house. (Ladies – why is it when something grosses/freaks us out do we tiptoe? Can I get a what what?!) It took all of 10 seconds for me to dismiss 50 years of tireless work by the women’s liberation movement and text all the men (2) that I know in the area for help. No response. I begged for help from Evan, who is in Oklahoma for work, and his reassuring guidance was “tell the bird he’s an asshole.” I knew then I was on my own.


It’s unclear what part of my hostage negotiations the guests of the neighbor’s garden party overheard that caused alarm enough for the patron males to check out the situation through the cracks in the fence, but this is likely what they saw. A young, frantic, braless, and disheveled woman in a grey tank top, daisy dukes, and floral gardening gloves wielding a large bucket and a broomstick prancing around her garage yelling at seemingly nothing. If they stood listening for long, they would have heard sorrowful pleads of “please, stop being such a f***ing asshole” or the frustrated rationalization of “I left all the doors and windows open, you don’t have to make this harder than it is” to a Tourette’s-style rant reminiscent of the 5-stages of grief:

1. Denial: “Nope. This isn’t happening. You got in here, you find your own way out. This isn’t my problem bird, it’s yours.”

2. Anger: “You’re being a dick bird! I spend nearly a decade of my life not eating your family and this is how I’m repaid?! I want to love you I really do but you are making me hate birds! Yep, I said it – I hate birds now. Are you happy?!”

3. Bargaining: “I take it back bird, I love you and I swear I can hear your family out there looking for you so if you just make this easy on me I will return you and there will be no hard feelings, okay?”

4. Depression: “This bird is going to die of panic and starvation and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m slowly killing this bird by being a total pussy and not having the courage to just take action.” Followed by sitting on the floor feet from the bird and crying.

5. Acceptance: 10 minutes of braless circuit training and positive affirmation, I was ready.

“Yes sir, everything is fine. Just taking care of a situation in my garage – I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“Did you want me to come over and help.”
“No thanks sir. I got this.”

Like Joan of Arc readying for battle, I lowered my protective eyewear/snowboarding goggles over my eyes and compassionately lunged at the bird.

I kind of blacked out for about 10 minutes from fear, but I do remember flashes of moments where I elegantly used the broom to guide the bird into the Tupperware then slid the lid under the Tupperware then relocated the bird to the neighbor’s lawn. I know “grace and greatness” is the goal in defining moments, but I’m pretty sure I was screaming and swearing the whole time AND likely solidifying my already strong reputation as the Eagle Point Golf Course Community wildcard.

Since the time I was a little girl, I always wanted to make a difference in the world. It was the reason that I was obsessed about the feelings of my stuffed animals and that I wanted to be a psychiatrist just like my dad and why I joined the Army as a medic in 2002 and why I have been a vegetarian for 9 years and a vegan for almost 3 years. I expected to spend my Memorial Day in deep reflection for all the lives that are impacted and lost, all the sacrifices made and the love left on the battlefields so we can experience love, laughter, and freedom to express whatever we believe now. Aww yes, the freedom bird as I will now call him was an unexpected detour from this calm, reflective day – but that bird had me facing some real shit and who knew I could feel so accomplished, so proud, so much like I made a difference in action out of such an unexpected event.

That is the point of life thought isn’t it? To recognize these defining moments, to recognize that it’s not in the large acts of grandeur that make heroes out of men and women, it’s the little acts of kindness and laughter that give life it’s thrill and it’s purpose. Even after everything I’ve been through, that tiny bird had me on my knees in tears and having to dig deep for the courage to act compassionately, not literally beat the problem with a stick. I’m so grateful for the lesson freedom bird taught me today – and, yes Evan, he was also a bit of an asshole.

Happy Memorial Day to my battle buddies on all the fields of my life. Especially to you reader whose moments to read my nonsense allows me to live my dream of giving my love away in words.

army_battle army_battle2 army_battle3

The Beetlejuice Dilemma

Actual conversation had on the way back from hiking today: 

ME: I think we should figure out where we are going to meet up if we both die.

EVAN:  Why don’t we just meet at the house, that way I can haunt the shit out of you.

ME: (appalled face)

EVAN: No, it will be the best kind of haunting.

ME: Naw, I don’t want to put ourselves in a Beetlejuice situation.

EVAN: Well that’s easy, just don’t say Beetlejuice three times and we’re good.

ME: No seriously, what if people move into the house and they start messing with our vibe and we are stuck hanging out in the upstairs away from the fridge.

EVAN: That’s exactly when you would say Beetlejuice babe. That’s what he’s there for.

ME: I guess.


Yet another conversation where we couldn’t come up with a solution to an unrealistic problem that we made up.

Top Sick Day Movie Marathons


I dare you to guess my mood. It must be the fever.

I dare you to guess my mood. It must be the fever.

I haven’t been shy about expressing that if I’m going to do anything, I may as well do it big.  That dedication has taken on a new form of what I can only assume is the Hayley version of the flu. I say the Hayley version because I am pretty convinced I may be a real life version of the Bruce Willis in Unbreakable as I should have died, contracted sickness, broken multiple bones and/or some variation in-between many times in my life yet have managed to remain unscathed. I’ll just brag and say if completing doctor office paperwork were a race, I would be hands down in the top 3 finishers right behind a newborn baby (no name or social? not fair) and Chrissie Wellington whom I’m 90% sure is a at the very least a robot hybrid. 

Back to the going big part. Yesterday morning at work I was good, good, good, good, happy, laughing, good, good, bored, good, nautious, wind sprinting across office, projectile vomiting in what I can only hope was the ladies restroom, laying on floor of the ladies restroom for an unknown amount of time, good, back to meeting, hot sweats, sending a confusing email to my team with the word ‘moist’ in it, driving home swearing my windshield was covered in a wax paper film, laying in bed in a slightly hallucinogenic state where I thought I could hear small voices making fun of me from the closet. Now today I find myself keeping everything down but just wandering around the house looking for warmer socks. I’m assuming this bug would have killed a lesser person, but it is rather inconvenient for me, not to mention Evan is more then a little repulsed by what I’m assuming is my complete lack of hygiene and musky smell. His face does not whisper.

Now that warm socks have been found, it’s time for my favorite activity that I never get to do: MOVIE MARATHON!  In a tribute, below are my top 7 favorite movie marathons of all time.



Damn right I put a picture of Professor Snape – I love this quintessential underdog, not to mention the dude can breath lines through his teeth in a magically villainous way that has me doing the Arsenio Hall arm pump every time.



When it comes to special effects and end-of-the-world story lines, the Matrix was years ahead of it’s time. Who can forget movie one, first fight scene when the camera pans around Trinity in mid-air right before doing an aerial face kick? And Keanu finally found the perfect role where his translucence and general apathy played like a badass.



I once had the cops called on me for watching Lord of the Rings too loud in my apartment. When I answered the door braless in dumpy sweatpants holding a giant bowl of popcorn there were four cops at the door who insisted they search the house. I don’t know what they were searching for, but a small part of me wished they would have found Viggo Mortensen passed out in a closet.

STAR WARS (all 6 movies…)


I don’t care what you think, I like them all and I will watch them and they will bring me joy. Yoda kicking Saruman from LOTR ass at 900 years old? Yes please.



Except for the new one with Jeremy Renner. Just leave that to a time when the fever is really high – then maybe you won’t be disappointed.



No exception – always begin with Pulp Fiction. Then Reservoir Dogs and Inglorious Bastards warming up to the Kill Bill movies, mix in From Dusk till Dawn followed by Death Proof and come back down on Jackie Brown. Afterwards be sure not to go out into the general public – side affects of this mini-marathon include non-sequitur monologues, malaise, and a-mouth-on-you-that-your-motha-wouldn’t-even-kiss levels of swearing.

(and if you have no shame and/or are alone)



Don’t judge me.

I’m going to go eat some soup and watch Evil Dead. Peace.

Web Feast Friday: Sunday Edition

As you may or may not have noticed, our streak of blogging came to an end on Friday, January 25.  I am actually impressed that we made it that long considering the whirlwind of adventures and funtivities we have been engaging in over the last couple of weeks. We spent this past weekend relaxing, skiing, cooking, and imbibing with our dear friends in Sunriver, Oregon.  I’m blaming our streak coming to an end on a fun-friend-filled weekend.  Best.Excuse.Ever.


Mountains, outdoor activities, and wildlife. Sounds like a damn good time to me!


We forgot our camera back at the cabin, so this isn’t actually depicting our day. Add in icy snow and 25 mph winds, and you get the idea.

We had actually been saving up lots of great links to share on Friday, so we figured why not get “caught up” with our blog posts by cranking out some bonus posts on Sunday.  This Webfeast is dedicated to our weekend in Sunriver and will definitely get us back on track and prep us for our next 30 Day Challenge which is our Raw February!

After this past weekend, a detox is definitely in order!

Feeling a little acidic?  We definitely are.

We’re in the process of writing our Super Bowl party menu.  These might make the cut.

A new obsession.

We’re in the market.  Anyone have any recommendations or reviews to share?

This came in handy after a long day on the hill.  Vegan and GF!!

Vegan Epic Meal Time. Moo Bitch.

I have this, lets call it ‘genetic’ defect in my personality that I will go to any level of humiliating myself or Evan if I think it will evoke even the tiniest amount of actual or awkward laughter.  Before you judge, let me just say that 1. I already admitted it’s a defect and I am working on it 2. I don’t believe in pranks – I’m okay with people thinking I’m an asshole but not doing something juvenile and dickish and probably leaves a emotional and actual mess and 3. It’s how I love. Thanks a lot mom and dad. 

Here’s the irony – I can make a joke about anything and seem like a real tough gal, but when it comes to actual confrontation, total softy. Exhibit A: the picture below. So I somehow have the courage to say to my boss “Looks like you’re already giving up on the day” as he carries his McDonald’s breakfast through a giant room of co-workers, but when the dude at the airport taco place puts cheese on my salad after 3 requests to prepare without cheese (even the cheese allergy card), all I do is pick as much cheese out as possible and passive-aggressively tell jokes about it later. *sigh* Karma.

As a tribute to my first unwanted dairy of the year, enjoy the newest vegan epic meal time: milk mutiny.





Friendship Oh No No List


Our highlighted white people problem of the day is that Evan and I like hanging out with each other so much that we turn down hanging out with any other friends. We will pretty much stay exclusively in cordial acquaintance status if they violate too many things on our oh-no-no list. Let’s take a peak at a few items on our oh-no-no list shall we?

  • Not finding public flatulence hilarious 
  • Not having an opinion on the Biggie/Tupac Feud
  • Having any opinions on fantasy football
  • Serious turtlenecks (but dickies are somehow on the ‘we are definitely hanging out you ‘ list)
  • Not laughing at this video: Billy on the Street
  • Or this one:
  • Agreeing we believe everything you do just because we look/sound like you (i.e. white = republican, vegan = pissed off activist, girl = like the sex in the city movies)
  • Lacking a healthy respect for 90’s hip hop (it helps if you know the ending of this sentence: In West Philadelphia born and raised…)

I do want to say that there are a few things that supersede all the oh-no-no’s and automatically qualify you as cool:

  1. Playing air guitar at anytime and/or instinctive head-banging during that one part in Bohemian Rhapsody
  2. Getting stoked to cook us vegan food
  3. Loving us enough to tell us what you think and not give a damn what others think of you
  4. Properly rocking an ill-fitting dickie (see oh no-no list)
  5. Flying 1800 miles just to hang out with us (on purpose)

Let’s give a slow-ascending clap for my friend Evonne who is braving the elements of air travel and will arrive in just a few short hours at the Medford Airport for a 2-week visit. Not only does Evonne meet all the criteria of do’s and don’ts, she is actually embarrassingly more cool than us and we’re unclear on why she wants to hang out with two sloppy, smelly ‘adults’ in their natural environment. Her loss in this case.

Evonne is my oldest friend – our mom’s met at the YMCA while still pregnant with us and are still amazing as AARP badass mofo’s who, at over 60 y/o, can ride their bikes across Switzerland, keep up with the kids on RAGBRAI (a 450+ mile, 7 day bike ride across Iowa), and still muster the energy to cut out and mail us clippings from the local newspaper on the different ways we could potentially die as single young women and/or recipes for bean dishes.

Evonna's momma Donna (left) and my momma Denise (left) finishing strong. 80's running never looked so sexy...and so orange apparently.

Evonne’s momma Donna (left) and my momma Denise (right) finishing strong. 80’s running never looked so sexy…and so orange apparently.

Evonne has done more in the past 5 years then I will do in a lifetime, including teaching English in Japan, being a snowboard instructor in Colorado, riding her bike across the US, running multiple marathons, and is now teaching speed walking, badminton, ultimate frisbee, and spinning classes while she finishes her degree at the University of Iowa. She is sarcastic and loves to play outside and loves vegan food and has been known to hit the town with our friend Rachel wearing straight-up footy pajamas just for laughs. If you don’t believe me on her awesomeness, check out these moves (she’s single hot, slightly-crazy dudes in cyberspace!):

Man, it’s gonna be a great few weeks. Yes, we will be posting food in the coming days and weeks as we have culinary adventures with friends.

(from left) Hayley, Evonne, and Rachel before the La Crosse Half Marathon, or what Evonne named as "our movement excursion". Expectations were low and no land speed records broken - but we finished!

(from left) Hayley, Evonne, and Rachel before the La Crosse Half Marathon, or what Evonne lovingly coined “our movement excursion”. Expectations were low and no land speed records broken – but we finished!

How to stop buying self-help books and start building your 2013 race schedule


Ahhh....we love a fresh start!

Ahhh….we love a fresh start!

We are beginning the year with a guest, our friend Evonne from Iowa (more on her amazingness tomorrow), so we are doing what any self-respecting hosts do when guest visit – hide all the shit we are ashamed to show.

*Sidebar: I refuse to use the word hostess as I am avoiding all words that could provoke spontaneous binging on sweets/tearfully re-watching the slideshow on my computer entitled “Sugar on my teeth” scored with the jam This Used to Be My Playground by Madonna.

Back to our shame. Usually we have the most shameful items in the dark recesses of the odd-shaped bedroom that we don’t use except for a futon and “things to be filed”, but other items we enjoy on the reg but have to carefully balance our self-respect and the general fear and concern of others when deciding to keep them out or not. The Game of Thrones Land of Ice & Fire Map kit? Stay. Our collection of hand puppets? Hide. Our collection of hundreds of owls? Stay. Our collection of dozens of decorative potpourri  in various shaped bowls? Hide. Our stuffed animals which we have named and treat like real animals? Stay.

And their is one thing that we love dearly yet always hide: our throngs of self-help books. I’m not kidding. A mega-throng. We can’t seem to resist the promise from anyone in a blazer or with a beard of a better life – relationships, diet, exercise, traveling, making money, spending money, finding passions/strengths/careers/other books…oh man, we love experts. Actually, I think it’s less about the experts and more about the promise they all have in common – A HAPPY, BLESSED, ABUNDANT LIFE OF FREEDOM! With every new book came a new Monday morning promise – THIS week will be the start of something different. THIS time, everything is about to change.

Well maybe it was all those years of self-help kool-aid or the fresh Oregon air or the placid simplicity of the hill people we see wandering our streets smoking joints in their 1992 Air Jordan t-shirts that have inspired us to do things differently. THIS time, instead of planning on doing things – we are getting it done son! Nothing is quite so motivational as throwing down fat cash and signing your name on the liability release for races to make you say – oh damn, I better start doing some shit.

Below are a few websites that we used to find, pick, sign, pay for, seal, and deliver our future folks. Our future of buns you can bounce a quarter off, robust quad-meats, less truck-drivery arms, and the feeling of accomplishment that comes from helping yourself YOUR way!

Helpful websites to help you build your own race schedule:

  • Running in the USA –  Search by race, state, date, mileage along with linked website and contact information. Perfect for finding one race month by month and/or plan an active vacation
  • Southern Oregon Runners – Local organization that promotes events all over Southern Oregon. Some of the most elite trail and road runners in the world live in Southern Oregon, come see why.
  • Fitness Sports  – Local Iowa race website run by a Des Moines shoe store by the same name, promotes events in iowa by race, date, mileage.
  • Half Marathons site –  Narrow down the field of races and experience the fastest growing event in running. Search by location and race.
  • Trail Runner – Just like Running in the USA, but only for trail runs. Is the best site with the most trail races, an event that is a blast yet difficult to find in the girth of road runs on other sites.

Oh, and we did take from those books the idea that in order to hold yourself and to be held accountable, it helps to share goals with anyone and everyone! So chicky-check it out (and please join us if you can – I’ll be the one sweating out my mouth at the back of the pack):


January: Schmidtman 5k

Pic from the 1st annual Schmidtman 5k (the combo of Evan and I's last name) - a run we do together on the 1st of January each month

Pic from the 1st annual Schmidtman 5k (the combo of Evan and I’s last name) – a run we do together on the 1st of January. Our bib #’s are our goal weight

February: Couple Truffle Shuffle 10k (Medford, OR)

March: Shamrock Run 8k (Portland, OR)

April: Bridge to Brews 10k (Portland, OR)

May: Rock n Roll Half Marathon (Portland, OR)

June: Race for the Animals 10k trail run (Portland, OR) + Granite Man Trail 5 mile (Applegate Valley, OR)

July: Ashland July 4th 10k (Ashland, OR) + Deschutes Dash Duathlon (Bend, OR)

August: Hood to Coast relay (Mount Hood – 199 miles – Seaside, OR) + Mount Ashland Hill Climb Half Marathon

September: Wildwood Trail Trial 10k (Portland, OR)

October: Portland, OR Marathon!!!

November: Turkey Trot 10k (Medford, OR)

December:  Try not to get fat. This has yet to be accomplished and we don’t want to complicate things with running a race – although we probably should as a way to potentially guilt our way into not getting fat. Hey, nothing says the holidays at our house like a vat of guilt (and copious amounts of starchy foods).

Can you spot the most photogenic people in the race lineup? (hint: my mom and I are in there somewhere)

Can you spot the most photogenic people in the race lineup? (hint: my mom and I are in there somewhere)