Monday, September 30, 2013

About Work

Today marks the start of my 13th week at my new job.

I have a lot of stories that I wish that I could share. Stories about what it's like to report to a board. Stories about small town government. Stories about the people who use our services. Stories about my employees, a good many of whom have been working here for over 20 years. Stories about really bad days. Stories about really good days.

I blogged about previous jobs (viciously, sometimes, and I was lucky that I wasn't ever caught) but I'm not comfortable blogging about this one.

So I will tell you what I can tell you.

This job is hard.

And I don't regret taking it.

Every day I get a little better. Some days my improvement is limited to knowing when it would be good to leave the office, drop by Mom and Dad's house and spend an hour sitting on the deck in the sunshine.

Some days that seems like more than enough.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

360° of what I've been up to

The Bad
1. I am not a fan of going more than two days without blogging and yet somehow I took an unintentional blogging hiatus. I kept meaning to blog and I kept managing not to get it done.
2. I have spent a lot of time worrying about Meg, who is dealing with an undiagnosed heart problem. They discovered that she had high blood pressure this summer. She's had plenty of episodes similar to yesterday, when she felt overexerted while making her bed. Meg has been seeing doctors and she had a stress test that came back normal, but she's most definitely not 100% okay. I saw my mom yesterday and when my mom, scary-tough-ICU-nursing-professor got choked up when she admitted "I'm afraid Meg is going to drop dead when she's playing hockey," well, it scared me.
3. I've just been at work far, far too much. I'm tired.

The Undecided
1. I had my hair cut and highlighted yesterday and it's...okay? I let my stylist stray from the usual, which left me with a lot more lowlights than she normally puts in and, as I said before, it's okay. I just think maybe I prefer myself a little blonder.
2. One of the casualties of my new job has been my reading list. I started a new book this weekend, Brain on Fire: My Month of Madness. I have not had a chance to make a substantial dent but it seems quite promising. I'm a sucker for a good memoir.  

The Good
1. I combatted the urge to crawl into bed the minute I got home tonight and, instead, I spent all of 20 minutes putting together my lunches and breakfasts for the week. I've been a little lazy about getting my act together on Sunday nights. I've been a little lazy about everything.
2. After my soccer games today, I met my parents and my cousin Emma for my first official birthday celebration. It basically consisted of a really, really awesome lunch and some equally awesome presents. I'm not mad about it.  
3. I had a meeting just around the corner from Lucy's house on Thursday morning, so I got to stop by the house for lunch with Lucy and Baby L. There are perks to being the boss and one of those perks is that I'm the only one accountable for my time. Infant therapy makes me infinitely more productive, anyway.

The Upcoming
1. Another thrilling 6-day workweek!
2. Celebrating my birthday with Lucy tomorrow night.
3. Celebrating my birthday with myself via a massage appointment scheduled for Wednesday.
4. Thanks to a rapidly approaching half-marathon, more running than I really feel like doing. Training is finally starting to go well so I will abstain from complaining too much.
5. Making it a priority to keep up with my blogging. Three bad days doesn't mean I'm falling out of the habit, but I do want to make sure that I make the time to blog. It's good for me.

What's going on with you guys? Anything good, bad, exceptional, awful, so-so?

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Time Crunch

I do not excel at keeping a reasonable, manageable schedule.

I like to be busy but I don't like to be exhausted. It's a delicate balance. I'm a little better than I used to be, I think, at recognizing when too much is too much.

Maybe I'm just getting crabby in my old age (I turn 31 next week!), maybe it's just harder for me to go-go-go-go-go-go like I used to, maybe I just value my time a little bit more, maybe I know that this new job has demands that my old job didn't, maybe I'm just trying to treat myself a little better. I'm not exactly sure of the reason, but things that used to appeal to me feel like too great of a commitment. I am more aware that I can't be everywhere and everything to everyone all at once.

Recently, I crossed paths with a very tempting volunteer opportunity. Basically, I would be teaching skating. Which I used to do. Which I miss.

I am wrestling with that decision. I want to do it. I want to commit. I also want five seconds to myself every once and a while and that's been really, really hard to come by.

I don't think that I will regret it. If it's anything like my last job coaching skating, I will get more out of it than the kids did. (And back then I was getting paid!) But I am having such a difficult time pulling the trigger on committing.

I just want more time!

And more sleep.  

Monday, September 23, 2013

All the cool kids are doing it

I was all smiles when I left work this evening. The world was nothing but sunshine and rainbows, cotton candy and unicorns. I was in the best mood.

Because I didn't have to go to the gym. And I didn't have to feel guilty because I wasn't going to the gym. Because I had already gone!

It's the golden ticket, you guys. I found the golden ticket and the golden ticket is this: going to the gym at lunchtime.

Okay, so I do realize that I've mentioned this before but kindly indulge me once again. I have worked out at lunchtime more and I have more praise to give.

I've only been at my new job for 10ish weeks, so I hadn't established any real routines. But one habit that I stuck to was this: eating lunch in my office.

Not great. Especially with the stress of this new job and everything that I have to learn and being the boss and whatever. I need to check out for a while. Going to lunch every day isn't my style. Eating in the lunchroom doesn't feel like a break (especially since it's all of 15 yards from my office).

But my gym is not a restaurant and it isn't my office and it isn't the lunchroom and it is two miles away.

My gym is obnoxiously busy in the evenings. I can get a good workout in, sure, but it's just crowded. Not at lunchtime!

Plus I'm tired in the evenings. Eventually, I'll settle in to the job and I won't be so drained at the end of the day but right now I'm exhausted. Not at lunchtime!

Basically, my routine looks something like this: dash out of the office, drive two miles, quick change in the locker room, 4 or 5 miles on the treadmill, the world's fastest shower, get dressed again, slap on a little makeup and get back to work. I give myself an hour and a half.

I feel so good when I'm done. I have way, way, way more energy in the second half of the day if I've worked out at lunch. Getting my run checked off of my to-do list feels phenomenal. Watching a little bit of daytime television feels like a treat.

It isn't as big of a hassle as you would think. I eat my lunch a little before I head to the gym, so I feel properly fueled. It takes two seconds in the morning to toss an outfit in my bag and dump it in the trunk of my car. My gym bag is already stocked with shower supplies but I think I'll simplify by buying duplicates of my makeup essentials (tinted moisturizer, blush, eyeliner, mascara) and just keeping it in my gym bag. For now, I've been bringing along my makeup bag, too.

My last job definitely did not afford me the flexibility to go to the gym at lunchtime. I'm so pleased to have the freedom to get my workout in during the day now. It practically cancels out the increased stress and the not-nearly-big-enough-increase in salary.

Balance.

Loving it.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

My Big Little Sister and The Coach

I haven't really clarified where I am at when it comes to breaking the news to Meg about The Coach and, since I was asked about it, now seems like a really good time to address it.

Meg knows the minimum.

I had told Meg, three summers ago, that I'd gone out with The Coach a few times and that he was moving far away and I really never mentioned him to her again. Other than the occasional story of his that I'd pass along ("The Coach told me that..." whatever. Something sports related.") and that she could clearly do a minimum amount of social media investigating to see that we're still connected here there and everywhere, I left her in the dark.*

I love my sister and I consider our relationship very close but we just never really did that. Analyzing boys, I mean. I suppose maybe it's just me who has never really done that, to be honest. Even Lucy doesn't get anything all that juicy. I hold my cards close.

The Coach gave me the green light this summer.

She knows that The Coach is still in my life. She knows that The Coach is still living and coaching far away. She knows that it's complicated between us.

And basically she knows all of that stuff because it came up when we were out with a couple of girls from our soccer team. Not because I sat her down and summarized the last three years.

I suppose I will tell her more as more comes along. If more comes along. (Always superstitious.) Not text message mentions of marriage. Not silly things, not the silly things I blog about that make me feel crazy and make you guys think that I am. Real things. Big things. The Coach is moving back. Or The Coach is moving even farther away and I want to cry 10,000 tears. The Coach married a Vegas showgirl and has dropped out of my life entirely. The Coach did a Photoshop mock up of what he thinks our first child will look like. Big things.  

Until the big things, I'll just continue to keep it all on the down low like the weirdo that I am.

I suppose I'm still scared to broadcast it too loudly. If it all goes up in flames, I don't want to get burned.

*Unless she's been secretly reading my blog. Hi, Meggie! Love you!

Saturday, September 21, 2013

The Story of Meg and the Boy

On our soccer road trip last week, Meg met a boy and, as I told you, things didn't work out with Meg and this boy.

But their story is cute.

And I honestly feel like we haven't seen the last of this boy.

So I'm going to tell you the story.

Once upon a time, Meg and I saw this boy, Ryan, play soccer. Actually, we saw him play soccer multiple times. And our sweet Meg -- our sweet, sweet Meg -- never has a shortage of opinions.

She was not shy to tell us that Ryan was The Worst Soccer Player Ever. Despite playing for a team that we were paying money to watch. Despite his impressive list of credentials. She proclaimed him fat and lazy and awful at soccer.

Multiple times at multiple games.

Perhaps it was kismet but somehow Ryan ended up following Meg via social media. She called me when that happened and we laughed and laughed. "Oh, if only he knew!"

If only he knew.

We were standing in line at the soccer game, waiting to get through security and get through the gates, and Meg saw Ryan. She's never met him but she waved at him anyway. That's what Meg is like. Especially Meg after she's had a drink or two.

And she pointed out to me where Ryan was and told me what she had just done and we laughed and laughed.

We got into the stadium and we went to our seats and I made a pre-game dash for the bathrooms and, when I got back, Meg was gone.

I heard her yelling my name and there she was, standing right against the field. I walked down the steps to see her and she's laughing and grinning and "RYAN JUST ASKED FOR MY PHONE NUMBER."

Hilarious.

He was on the field for some pre-game festivities because he's fancy pants and apparently the kid has balls because he asked Meg for her number and obviously Meg is going to give it to him.

We watched the game and everyone had awful service so Meg didn't hear from Ryan until after the game was over. We were in the car. And I was responding to his text messages. ("Don't tell Ryan that I was the one SEXTING him!" I told her. [I wasn't really sexting him.])

So he wanted to go out. Of course. We'd been drinking since 3:00 pm in the 90+ degree heat and humidity and I had never needed a shower like I needed a shower then but I wasn't going to tell Meg that I wanted a shower and some sleep. And I wasn't going to tell Meg to go out on her own.

We went back to the hotel and changed our clothes and we headed to the bar where he said he would be. Eventually. ...his phone, as he warned Meg would happen, had died somewhere along the line.

Meg and I ordered dinner and drinks and just hung out. Ryan came in a little while later with an entourage. A whole group of people he works with. Meg got up to talk to him for a bit and eventually he headed to his table, promising that he would stop by eventually.

And he didn't stop by and he didn't stop by and then I realized that it was because I was sitting there so I took the longest trip to the bathroom ever and when I got back he was obviously sitting there with Meg. Obviously.

So apparently he's a little shy. (Which he had indicated to Meg in one of the 1,384 text messaged they'd already exchanged.) And totally clicked with Meg.

Meg and Ryan have a crazy lot in common. Former student-athletes. Good jobs. Almost the same age. Similar sense of humor. As athletes, they're both these complete scrappers, just kind of rough and relentless. I could just picture them having these stocky, tough little ruffian athlete babies. Soccer players, of course.

And I loved that Ryan had a lot in common with Drew, Meg's ex-boyfriend, but on a higher scale. For example: both are soccer players; Ryan is much more accomplished.

I was totally excited about him so I can only imagine how geeked Meg was. He sent Meg text messages like it was going out of style for the next couple of days, before the big reveal. That he was "kind of" seeing somebody.

I mean, I guess kudos to him for coming clean. Still sucks, though. 

Meg cut it off right quick.  

But I don't think that this is the last we've heard from Ryan. I think that when he isn't "kind of" seeing anyone else, he'll be "kind of" back in the picture.

I hope so, anyway.

I have a good feeling about him.

Friday, September 20, 2013

Crab

Hello.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

I was crabby before I got out of bed and looked out the window but maybe somehow I knew that it was raining. Because it is. My day off and raining. I am sure that tomorrow will be gorgeous and I'll spend the entire day working.

Awesome.

Apparently my subconscious was setting me up to be a crab today because I was pissed off in all of my dreams, too.

I guess I'm just tired. It's been a really long week.

* * *

I was at a conference yesterday. Here is what I hate about conferences: bullshit meeting food. Either the food is way too heavy and it puts you to sleep or they go cheap and get sandwiches.

They went cheap and got sandwiches. And chips and rough looking fruit. You know the shitty fruit sitting at the register at the coffee place? It was that crap.

On the topic of sandwiches: I really don't care for lunchmeat. I am not a huge meat eater as it is and lunchmeat just doesn't do it for me. I would rather not have any. So, when I finally got my food and my choices were between a ham and cheese sandwich or the vegetarian wrap that they told us not to take unless it was labeled with our names, I found secret stash of vegetarian wraps that were extras and snagged one.

Let's talk about the vegetarian wrap. Iceberg lettuce, shredded cheese and a hunk of cucumber on a tortilla. It was edible, yes, but what about that fueled me up for the second half of the day?

I am thankful that I had a little bit of motivation and foresight when I packed up for the conference and brought along some almonds and dried fruit and my favorite health food: gummy bears.

The gummy bears totally did what they needed to do: kept my stomach from growling so loud that everyone at my table was distracted and made me happy.

* * *

Maybe I should have some gummy bears to get me out of my mood!

* * *

I don't need the gummy bears. It's impossible to be crabby around an infant and I have plans this morning with Lucy and the boys. And we're going to get lunch, too. Pho at our new favorite little find of a restaurant. With Vietnamese iced coffee because AM told me that we must.

* * *

If you're working today: don't work too hard.

If you're working tomorrow: I feel your pain.

Anyone have good plans for the weekend? Mine is looking to be remarkably uneventful. I'm not upset about it. 

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Not just any guy

I hinted at it last week -- and I promise to tell you the full story because it's cute -- but at the soccer game last week, Meg met a boy.

She met him but sort of already knew him and, yeah, that part is confusing. Sorry. Like I said, I'll tell the full story another time. The gist of it is this: Meg met a guy and they were instantly sending text messages every .3 seconds and there were all of these crazy coincidences and I wasn't even upset when she dragged me to the bar even though I wanted to go to sleep because he seemed like a nice kid and they were going to have such a cute story and a brood of tough little babies.

But then it all fell through.

(That's why I haven't told the story.)

I was so upset! He had so much promise! But there was a big red flag and Meg said "nope, bye" and I was proud that she did that.

Because, if I were the one in her star spangled jeggings, I think I would have hung around anyway. Stayed when I knew that I shouldn't. All of the signs could have been pointing at no and I wouldn't have let him go.

I admire Meg for making that decision. For knowing when to bow out. For preserving her dignity and doing it gracefully. I think that we haven't seen the last of this guy and, if that's the case, it's because she showed that she had some damn standards and some self respect.

I wouldn't have done that. At her age, I would have settled for any guy. Any guy who wanted to pay attention to me, regardless of his situation or how he treated me or if I even really liked him.

Wasn't that who Colin was? I looked past his education and his ambitions and his career and his lies and his drinking and his inability to give a damn about me. Because he would pay attention to me. (On his own terms.)

It's scary to think that I could find myself in that situation again. So willing to settle for the first thing that comes around that just about any guy would do.

I would like to think that I've grown up. That I have the self respect to handle myself like Meg did.

But I'm not entirely convinced that I do or that I would.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Watch Out, World

Lucy's going back to work.

And her office is right down the street from mine.

Lunches! Coffee breaks! General awesomeness!

Also, my birthday is in two weeks and look what I ordered to commemorate my 31st birthday.



MY VERY OWN CARD CATALOG.

Boom.

Monday, September 16, 2013

Putting My Hockey Career on Ice

I started playing ice hockey towards the end of college because a bunch of people I worked with were making a team and I had all of Meg's equipment so why not get out of the ice and make a fool out of myself? It was really fun.

I continued playing hockey when I finished school and got a big girl job because there was a league strictly for women who hadn't played before and it was something social to do in that weird year where I was out of college and living at home and working and a little lost. It was really fun.

I extended my hockey career the next winter. I played in another novice league and I started playing goalie because nobody wanted to and I was surprisingly good at it. It was really fun.

The next year, I was asked to play goalie for another team of women in a league that wasn't of an enormously high skill level but was much more advanced than the beginner leagues I had previously played in. This team and this league included players with enough skill that our games resembled real hockey. My team played in some tournaments and we skated regularly and I got to know and like all of my teammates. It was really fun.

I've been on that team ever since. 

It was really fun.

But it isn't anymore.

I thought that I was just burnt out at the end of last season. I thought that I was just ready to be done for the summer, ready for a break, ready to play soccer and get that damn bag out of the trunk of my car. (Do you people have any idea how big a hockey bag is?)

But, when we started our season a few weeks ago, I returned to the rink without enthusiasm. The start of the season -- the beginning of practices and games that will last from now through the end of March -- felt like an obligation. A really lengthy obligation.

It didn't used to feel like this. The season didn't seem so long. The commitment to skate a few times a week didn't seem so oppressive.

I don't know what my problem is.

I wonder if I'm just mad at simple idea of the hockey season because it mirrors The Coach's season and that stretch of time feels tortuously long.  (You would think I would be grateful for the distraction.) (It doesn't help. Not even a little.)

And maybe it's just that I'm just still too overwhelmed by my new job and when work gets easier going to the rink will get easier, too.

Whatever it is, I'm not feeling it anymore.

I won't quit this year. I won't leave my team without a goalie.

That leaves me with six months to figure out if it's time to throw in the towel.

Which is a long time.

Which is exactly the problem. 

Friday, September 13, 2013

Sassy Pants

Theme of the week: crazy pants.

First: the star spangled jeggings of Tuesday. Then: polka dot print on Thursday.


I gave these pants a try over the weekend, decided that they made my ass look like a wide, polka dotted billboard and then stepped out of the fitting room and allowed my mother and the saleswoman to talk me into buying them.

I wasn't 100% convinced but couldn't deny that they're kind of fun and, since I can get away with kind of fun at work, I went with it.

Maybe I'm just not that great at knowing what looks good on me, or maybe it was a coincidence, but I had two ladies stop me at Tim Horton's to tell me how darling they were and then Lucy gave them her seal of approval and, when I met her for dinner last night, Maria gave them a thumbs up, too. 


As for Baby L: he thought they made for a pretty comfy recliner. And he just can't understand the pumpkin spice latte hype.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Celebrity is so hard

The soccer game on Tuesday was a pretty big deal. It's why we traveled to Columbus to see it. It's why we wore our finest Americana apparel. It's why the parking lot opened for tailgating at 11:00 am and it's why the designated meet-up bar was packed. And it's why Meg and I braved the heat and went to the bar and tailgated for a while and generally cooked in our awesome patriotic jeggings even though, honestly, we're not big on tailgating or drinking in excessive temperatures.

Being that it was a big match and security was supposed to be tight, we headed towards the stadium with plenty of time to spare.

It was good because then we had time to ask a kind gentleman to snap a quick picture of us.

It was good because then we had time to stop and chat with a group of guys from Pittsburgh.

It was good because then we weren't pressed for time when a pair of fans decked out in Mexico gear approached us with their cell phones out and smiles on their faces. "Can we get a picture?"


It was a request that we fielded more than a few times when we were in South Africa for the World Cup, so it, oddly, didn't strike us as that unusual.

Apparently random guys really like the opportunity for a photo with a pair of girls all decked out for a soccer game. Whatever. We're happy to oblige.

So we took pictures with these two Mexican guys -- and, actually, we'd taken pictures with a couple of Americans earlier in the afternoon, too (it was the pants) -- and continued towards the stadium.

We hadn't gone twenty yards when we were stopped by more Mexican fans. Like, probably 30. All of whom were nice and funny and polite. It wasn't at all creepy. But it was funny. We stood there like we were the damn Liberty Bell and mugged for photo after photo after photo.

"Blondies! Blondies! We love the blondies!" One man laughed as he plopped his sombrero on my head and put his arms around our shoulders. We smiled. And smiled and smiled and smiled.

We had been there for probably 15 minutes when Meg broke out the polite celebrity speak and was like "okay, okay, just one more."

And after just 10 more photos, we were on our way to the stadium gates with a silly story and our cheeks sore from smiling.The delay set us up perfectly, actually, for Meg to run into a boy.

I'll tell you guys that story next.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Sister Adventures

Meg and I are back from our grand tour of Ohio.

It was a good trip. I highly recommend taking a day and a half off in the middle of the workweek.

We wore silly outfits.


We had a ton of fun.


And we came home with more than a few good stories, all of which I promise to tell in good time. One of them involves Meg and a boy. Another involves us and a merry band of Mexicans. All include the presence of alcoholic beverages. As most good stories do.

Monday, September 09, 2013

Third Year's a Charm

I started writing this last week, before The M Word drop.

The M Word drop made for an amusing story. Whether or not it is indicative of a greater change in things between me and The Coach is yet to be seen. I hope that it is. I certainly hope that it is. Wouldn't it be amusing to point to a mildly dirty text message as our "I knew when" moment?

I must say, it would be awfully appropriate.

Appropriate in its inappropriateness.

Anyway.

His season just started and The Coach is...baaaaaaaasically just as annoyingly busy as I expected for him to be.

I haven't lost my mind about it yet.

I think that maybe I won't.

As I've mentioned, I just feel more secure. I feel remarkably more secure than I did in years past. Maybe I'm just a little more naive or maybe I just care less but? You know? We've done this twice before and I've worried myself sick and at the end of it both times he's there standing on my front porch. The same devilishly handsome man that he was when he left. 

And as I've also mentioned, I think that it's better because his actions have made it better. Whether it is because he is maintaining a better work-life balance or because he's been through this routine twice before or because he values me more than he used to or because his mom told him it was time for him to settle down, it's been easier on me because he's made it easier on me. It isn't all a change in my attitude and a reduction in my anxiety.

Maybe the stars have finally aligned and I have figured out how to do this and he has figured out how to do this and this is what it is and this is how it is going to work out.

Because this is what it is. This is how this works. It isn't the most fun but it isn't the worst and it doesn't make me nervous anymore because I don't let it. Because I've already done this twice and all the nervousness got me was down a few pants sizes.   

It's a little too soon to tell. But I'm hopeful. It really has been good.

And wouldn't it figure that we finally get this all ironed out just in time for him to take a new coaching position?

It isn't a certainty and he hasn't made any decisions and anything could happen over the course his team's long season, but I think that this could very well be his last year at this job.

And then we figure out all over again.

Sunday, September 08, 2013

The M word

It was really late on Friday night.

I was still up because I had gone out to the bar to watch a soccer match that didn't start until 10:00 pm. The Coach was up because, well, because it was still a reasonable time for him to be awake. We were trading text messages because that's what we often do.

The Coach pulled the pervert card because he loves to. Especially when he's drinking.

He was drinking.



I almost fell out of bed and it didn't have anything to do with his suggestion.

I didn't think that I was the type of girl who would practically fall out of bed at the mention of the M word but, you guys? It happened. I almost fell out of bed.

We don't even talk about being Facebook official. So it's not like we talk about getting married.

More than that, it just never occurred to me that he thought about us getting married. (Even if it's just in a my-wife-and-another-lady fantasy way.) (Or does that mean that he thinks of it in other, non-pervy ways, too?) I didn't think marriage was anywhere on his radar, let alone attaching the idea of marriage to a specific person. Let alone that specific person being me.

It was a little crazy and more than a little unexpected.

As was the "here are my thoughts on marriage" conversation that followed a little while later. (He was out at a bar when he sent the text message because he's classy like that.) Marriage in general. Not a specific marriage that would consist of him and of me.

Less crazy, less unexpected were his comments on me that came later. He keeps saying, lately, that it seems that I'm getting even prettier (he always remembers to tell me that I was pretty in the first place), that he can't get enough of me.

They're sweet things and it makes sense that he's saying them, really, because things between us feel different. They felt a little different -- better -- this summer. But since he left at the end of July, it's been even more noticeable. I keep attributing the difference to me, telling myself that he's behaving the same and I just feel more secure. But maybe that's really not it.

And that's the story about how one perverted text message turned into quite the Friday night.    

I didn't think that I was the type of girl who would practically fall out of bed at the mention of the M word. I definitely didn't think that I was the type of girl who would want to analyze a pervy text message that included the M word.

But here I am. Analyzing away.

For the second time in the last few months, actually.

I must to admit, it's kind of fun if not 100% ridiculous.

Friday, September 06, 2013

Clean up, Clean out

Oh, whatever happened to my routine? This new job has complicated my schedule terribly. My very reliable gym/running routine has taken the brunt of the transition.

Should make the half-marathon that I'm running in 6 weeks especially interesting. Prepare yourself for a week of posts about how sore I am, how much I regret not running more prior to the race, the amount of coconut water I've consumed to combat my post-race leg cramps and the like.

I didn't have it in me to go for a run last night and basically that was because I was so hungry that a trip to the gym after work was absolutely out of the question and, once I got home, I couldn't stand the idea of being away from the kitchen for longer than 10 minutes.

It was one of those nights.

Somewhat ironically considering the amount of food I consumed over the course of the evening (sushi, eggplant, apples, cottage cheese and dark chocolate being among my odd selections), it was also the night that I decided it was time to get rid of all of the pants I had been hoarding since I randomly lost a bunch of weight a year and a half ago.

I didn't get rid of all of my pants initially because I assumed that my weight would bounce back to what had been my very consistent normal. But it looks like this scrawnier version of me is my new normal and I'm really sick of looking at that useless stack of dress pants in the back of my closet.

And so I packed them up to be donated. Along with a bunch of random shoes and shirts and all of the other clutter: t-shirts from the place where I play soccer and workout clothes and sweatshirts from random colleges and blouses I never really liked. Plus a ton of clothes that have been chilling in my bedroom at Mom and Dad's for, like, the last 10 years.

The volume of belongings I accumulate is legitimately disgusting.

But the purging feels so good.   

Thursday, September 05, 2013

Oh, the horror

Late last night, well after midnight, I definitely made a mistaken social media post that was most certainly not for everyone and anyone to see.

It was a picture and, trust me, it wasn't of Anthony Weiner proportions (not even close, thanks) but still horrifying enough and it was only up for about 20 minutes before I corrected my error and two people at most saw it but I am still a little (a lot) mortified. I'm not some old person with a shaky grasp of technology and social media. I KNOW BETTER.

I am so stupid.

I honestly have no idea how I managed to make that mistake and it's such a rookie move and that's basically why I feel like I want to crawl under a rock and die. It isn't the picture itself.

(It was just kind of a vapid "oh look at me" attention-seeking teenage girl picture that was jokingly going to The Coach -- at his request -- and not to the world. Not the type that would get me arrested, get me fired or land me an adult film contract. Just not very me and therefore embarrassing.)

Obviously it was deleted immediately and it's over and, like I said, it was late and I don't think anyone really saw it and I don't think that anyone who did would say something to me (though I think I'll have a few nightmares of my cousin Paul making some "hey, nice glamor shot" crack at a family party and humiliating me) but I woke up this morning still feeling like the biggest tool.

I continued to feel like a jerk until I realized that it could be much worse.

I could have posted the link to my blog, instead.

There's not a picture you could take that would make me feel more exposed than I would feel opening up my blog to everyone in my life.

(I've always kind of expected that someone will find it at sometime -- or maybe they already have -- but everyone finding it all at once? That would be a lot.)  

(Remind me again why I keep this blog public?)

Perspective. 

Wednesday, September 04, 2013

Random Tuesday in September

Now, I wouldn't expect you to know this unless you're a big international soccer fan, but next Tuesday night there's a big U.S. Men's National Team game against Mexico. It's a qualifying match for next summer's World Cup in Brazil and Mexico is probably the American team's biggest rival.

The game is in Columbus, Ohio, which isn't even a four hour drive from Detroit, so Meg and I are breaking out our red, white and blue and making the trip.

Stepping foot in Columbus is slightly nauseating* for Michigan grads -- and this is our second trip to Columbus for a U.S. Men's National Team game -- if that gives you any idea of our love for the American team.

We had a few friends express an interest in going to the game with us and, as friends do, they all backed out when it came to fully committing and taking the day off of work and giving me the cash for the tickets.

Upon realizing the ticket demand (seriously big deal game), we stopped inviting friends and decided to list our tickets for sale. Even minus the website's 15% commission, we covered the cost of our tickets, too. Not upset about it.

Also not upset about the two free nights of hotel stay (which I earned dropping ridiculous cash for hotel rooms at the Kentucky Derby) that we're cashing in for our trip.

Basically, we're looking at a nearly free trip to Columbus on a random Tuesday in September for what is expected to be an epic soccer match and a really excellent opportunity to finally break out my patriotic pants.

Definitely looking forward to it.

Especially the part of the trip where we moon Ohio Stadium.

Not really.

We graduated from the classy school. 


*All in good fun, of course. I actually like Columbus and I generally have no problem with Ohio. "That school in Ohio," as we often refer to the school which must not be named, will forever and always be disdained. The hatred is not optional. 

Tuesday, September 03, 2013

Starts and Stops


At the risk of writing what everyone else is writing about today: it feels like fall.

It feels like the first day of school. (Which it is.)

It's actually the first day of a lot of things. Like the first day of fall sports.

My hockey season starts today. (I'm not sure that I'm ready.)

The Coach's season starts today, too. (I'm definitely not ready for that, either.)  

I am wearing a scarf.

But I did not stop for a Pumpkin Spice Latte from S'bucks this morning. Which practically renders me ineligible to be a blogger, does it not?

I'm not hating on your drink. It's not that I don't enjoy a PSL on occasion. I think they're magical, too.

Just not as magical as sleeping late and settling for drip coffee with almond milk.

Happy Tuesday That Feels Like Monday, you guys.

Happy Fall.
 
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