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Over the past five(ish) years, I’ve gotten into a pretty complicated relationship.

No, not with Dan. That relationship is great and fine!

I’m talking about my relationship with running.

A few years ago, Running and I were, like, inseparable. Things got pretty serious when I did a half-marathon in February of 2011, but they tapered off when I tore my ACL later that year and then (while in recovery) got pregnant. (Hey, at least I was getting SOME exercise! HEYOOO. Sorry, Mom.)

I never thought Running would ever come back to me. I thought that, once my ACL was torn and that my kid was born, taking away every tiny ounce of energy I have in me, Running was “just someone that I used to know.”

But turns out Running is pretty forgiving and we’ve been seeing each other again lately. And I gotta say, it’s almost like things never changed.

(Well, except that my right knee kind of pops every other stride now but HEY it still works, so…)

Anytime I pass another runner on one of my runs, I always think the same thing:


Running is, like 99% mental, 1% physical, so a killer running playlist is essential. You can’t just put your iPod on shuffle and just hope for the best because you know the second you do that, your iPod will retaliate by ONLY playing every slow, boring ballad in your library and you’ll give up and go home and check on Kathie Lee and Hoda.

Seriously it takes everything in me to not stop other runners and demand they tell me what’s on their running playlist because IT’S THAT IMPORTANT.

So, in the event that you think that about me, let me erase all inquiry:


  1. “Rise Up” – David Crowder Band. There is no better, GET UP AND KICK BUTT song than this one.
  2. “Rumour Has It” – Adele. Makes me want to run to my most recent ex’s house and punch him square in the jaw.
  3. “Miss Murder” – AFI. Because angst.
  4. “Dance Inside” – All American Rejects. Perfect lyrics for the point in your run where you are starting to feel like garbage. “I’ll be fine/I’ll be fine/Is this fine?/I’m not fine!”
  5. “Say This Sooner” – The Almost. Skank-tastic!
  6. “What The Hell” – Avril Lavigne. CONFESSION: I could just put this one song on repeat and it would be enough to get me to run/dance anywhere. It’s infectious.
  7. “Lonely Boy” – The Black Keys. I mean? Duh.
  8. “Lazy Sunday” – Chris Parnell & Andy Samberg. For two reasons: it’s hilarious, and they rap about cupcakes, which I don’t feel guilty craving once I’m finished running.
  9. “So Serious” – Electric Light Orchestra. I picked this song for no other reason than it reminds me of my husband who is, hands down, the funniest person on the planet to me and I just can’t help but smile when I hear it.
  10. “Robots” – Flight of the Conchords. Ditto to the above.
  11. “Shelter” – Jars of Clay. A favorite that will never get old, perfect for a cool down.

What’s on your running playlist? Please just comment and tell me so I don’t have to maul you the next time I see you out for a jog.


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the worst tuesday.

Summer is winding down and fall is supposedly creeping in but I can’t feel it because it’s still hot as crap and the rain still won’t stop and I can’t differentiate my Mondays from my Thursdays or my Saturdays because everything is always the same.

Except this past Tuesday. Tuesday was vastly different from any other day of my life.

Late Monday, I noticed that Dax was running a bit of a fever. I never actually took his temperature, but I could feel that he was warm to the touch. Apart from that, he was acting completely normal; he was playing happily, sleeping fine, not coughing, not sniffling, not anything out of the ordinary. So I chalked the fever up to teething and just gave him Tylenol sporadically and thought nothing of it.

When I came home from work on Tuesday (thankfully a half hour earlier than I normally come home on Tuesdays) I found him lethargically lying belly-up on our babysitter’s chest.

Jeez, I thought. These 12-month molars must be brutal. 

I took him from the sitter, handed her a check, and said goodbye. I then took Dax into his nursery to nurse him and put him down for a nap. When we sat in the rocking chair, he nursed for maybe thirty seconds before stopping suddenly and throwing his head back.

His eyes rolled back and he started to shake and stopped breathing and it was a seizure.

The next few minutes were a blur of me screaming uncontrollably into his lifeless, purple face, splashing water on his body, crumpling to the floor and clumsily dialing 9-1-1, scream-sobbing into the receiver that MY TINY LITTLE BABY BOY IS HAVING A SEIZURE MA’AM AND HE IS ONLY ONE YEAR OLD AND PLEASE GOD CAN SOMEONE HELP ME HE’S NOT BREATHING DID YOU SAY SOMEONE IS COMING WELL WHERE ARE THEY HOW MUCH LONGER PLEASE HELP ME I AM SO SCARED PLEASE.

And then suddenly my house was flooded with upwards of ten men and women in different uniforms — EMS, firefighters, police officers — all trying to simultaneously calm me down and take care of Dax who, by that point, had stopped seizing and was draped across my chest in a collapsed heap of laborious breaths and pained sighs.

An ambulance ride, ER admittance, flu swab, chest x-ray, and long chunk of waiting around later, we found out that Dax came down with some virus (probably roseola) which caused him to have that high fever. The sudden temperature spike in his body triggered a febrile seizure.

Thankfully these seizures don’t cause any injury to the brain or the child — they’re just terrifying as hell for anyone, particularly a parent, who happens to be present.

And so, I learned the hard way that (until he’s older than 5) anytime I sense that Dax may be getting a fever, I have to be incredibly aggressive in treating it to avoid this happening again.


As terrible as this whole experience was, there were some surprising bright spots. The first was in the form of a community — a new one — that wasted no time in showing us love. Three friends came to visit us in the hospital (two of which brought us food), and another friend came to check on us the following day. Not to mention the flood of prayers that washed over us by the way of texts, phone calls, and Facebook messages.

The second good thing to come of this was a healthy dose of perspective. Before I left for work that morning, I was freaking out about our house being a mess for the babysitter. I was running about like a chicken with its head cut off trying to straighten up and clean up and even as I was driving away I was mentally kicking myself for not having enough time to do the dishes. Because I was nursing when Dax began to seize, I was basically naked when the emergency team showed up at my house. I couldn’t have given two sheets about the fact that I was bearing it all (or that my house was messy) while a bunch of firefighters and paramedics did a life-saving dance around me. All I cared about was my baby and whether or not he was going to be okay.

Even though he’s technically still contagious, today you can hardly tell Dax is sick at all, let alone that he just had a freaking seizure. He’s eating a bit more today, playing happily, and sleeping great.

And I am worn a bit ragged but so very grateful.



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are you there, blog? it’s me, lindsay.

HELLO. Hi. How are you?


Yes. Yes. Yes. Okay. I realize I haven’t posted in, like, FOREVS. Please stand down, angry citizens. I come in peace.

If you MUST know, I’m currently in the process of revamping this whole blog thing. Turns out I have a little bit of a hefty following and I’m ashamed of the content I was feeding you. You deserve better than that. Yes, YOU. I mean look at that outfit you’ve got on. You’re a stunner. You deserve stunning blogs to go with that getup.

So, please, bear with me as I navigate this blog like a total n00b. Mo’ betta posts are in the works. They are coming soon. SWEARSIES.

In the mean time, check out these beauties. They’re my most popular posts. If my posts were my children, I imagine these posts would form the cool clique at school. But they wouldn’t bully the other posts, okay? I raised them better than that.

Y’ALL DA BEST. Stay tuned!

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things i love thursday! (July 19, 2012)

This week’s TILT comes a day late (deal with it) and at the steadily typing fingers of Lindsay’s husband Dan (again, deal with it).

Lindsay wants you, her readers, to know one thing for which she is thankful this week: This little guy!

Dax Arthur

Born THURSDAY, July 19, at 1:34am. 8lbs, 4oz, and 20.2in long.

So little baby Dax is what Lindsay loves this Thursday…and Friday…and Saturday…and everyday for the rest of her life.


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diet coke 12-pack: week of july 25, 2011.

Who’s ready to troll the Internet? Well, you’re here, so you’ve already got a head start, don’t you? And what better place to start than FBDC?

Here are some fun things I found on the webbernets this week. It’s not an extensive list, but quality over quantity  y’all! Enjoy, and have a great weekend! I’ll see all you lovers on Tuesday!


That’s all, folks!


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special FBDC programming note.

Just a heads up — this week, I’m afraid there will be no TILT or 12-pack; I will be heading to Cincinnati to party for four days and watch two of my favorite people tie the knot. Tuesday Tip and part 1 of The Rexia Series are still coming your way, though!

Happy Monday, favorite people. Do work.

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don’t let it snow.

I’ve been cranky for the past 24 hours for two reasons.

#1. I’ve had a migraine for two days. I’ve had migraines since birth and they usually last at least two days for me. When I was little, they made me throw up, but I’ve since trained myself to hold it together. I’ve seen doctors for it, but I can never afford the medication I need. ($200 for nine pills, and I need two pills per migraine.) My friend gave me some of her prescription medication. I’m eternally grateful since I didn’t have to pay for it, however it leaves me with horrible side effects of dry mouth, nausea, and aching muscles. So no, I can’t feel my headache anymore thanksforasking but I do feel as though I have the flu.

#2. Snow is in the forecast for tomorrow. Snow. In. Florida. And this would be the SECOND time that it has snowed in Florida this winter.

Now, please, I work in news. I am fully aware of the fact that just over 63% of the United States is blanketed in white powder. And my friends who live up north claim that I have no cause for complaint. But I disagree. To all my friends who are up to their noses in snow right now: you chose to live up north, crazies! I chose to live in Florida, THE SUNSHINE STATE. I chose beaches, 110 degree summers, 70 degree winters, and 100% humidity. That’s what I signed up for. Not snow. And my migraines are triggered by changes in barometric pressure. So precipitation will undoubtedly aggravate my already throbbing skull, and frozen precipitation will only make me angry on top of that.

I’m being weather raped.

You think I can convince my Chicagoan husband to move to the equator with me?


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you know you’ve made it when…

You know you’ve made it when:

Overheard in the Newsroom #2832
Assignment Editor to 5 p.m. Producer: “Screw the Anchor Desk. The Assignment Desk is the only one that matters in this room.”

That was from my station, by yours truly!

Also: Four days of clean shows today!


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third time’s a charm and the producer pants.

Clean show three days in a row! I’m so proud! If I pull off a straight week of clean shows, I may have to throw a party and invite you all over to celebrate. I don’t make enough money to provide you with refreshments, I’m afraid. Sorry. You can bet that high fives will be in abundance, though. But before that, we must discuss day three.

Today I had to rock my producer pants in force. What? You don’t know what producer pants are? You’re telling me you don’t own any producer pants? Everyone needs a pair of producer pants.

In order to be a producer, one must be assertive and authoritative. One must know what one wants, and go for it, no matter what anyone else says, thinks, or does. Despite the job description and my glaring lack of a backbone, I decided that this career was one for me. But it didn’t take this doormat-people-pleaser long to realize that the laid-back passive personality God gave me is definitely not one to mesh with that of a producer. In short, I need to grow some balls.

So in lieu of said balls, I’ve started envisioning putting on my “producer pants,” an invisible garment that gives me all the confidence and resolve in the world needed for me to be in charge. At the end of the day, I take off the producer pants before I leave work so I can resume my usual submissive demeanor for interaction with my husband and friends.

I noticed a PKG on the rundown that I really wanted to run in my show. However, it was done by a reporter that the 6pm producer ALWAYS runs. So, before today’s afternoon meeting, I donned my producer pants. The 6pm producer picked her first two stories, the 5:30pm producer picked his first two stories, and the PKG was left unselected. Feeling the power of the pants, I snagged that PKG as well as another VO/SV that the 6pm producer wanted but didn’t get to in time! Ha!

But I’ve since removed my producer pants, and am now feeling the ravaging guilt for upsetting the 6pm producer. She’s wonderful and I adore her. Sigh. It’s a good thing we’re still friends!

Anyone have a spare pair of balls? Or should I never take off my producer pants?

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All of my on-air talent showed today, which is good, because I forgot to call them.

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