Humph

Someone was not too happy about getting up this morning... someone seems to take after his mother. 

If we're being honest, this has been a tough week so far. Monday was a high-stakes day at work -- not just for me, but the company in general. Luckily, everything related to my position went smoothly, and the rest I think went as well as anyone could have hoped. I am still, however, coming down from that rather dramatic spike in my stress level. I am also currently powering through day 3 of Monday's leftover stress headache. Lovely.

In addition, I discovered yesterday morning that my very favorite necklace, my "deployment gift" from Dan and most valued piece of jewelry besides my engagement and wedding rings, had mysteriously disappeared. I have turned the apartment inside out looking for it, but am afraid that there is more to it than "it fell off the hook where I always hang it and I'll find it soon." While I know that in the grand scheme of things, it is a relatively small loss and can even eventually be replaced (at a cost, of course), I am honestly devastated. The sentimental value is something that certainly can't be recovered: this is the necklace Dan gave me the night I flew into Indiana to see him, the one I wore almost every day while he was gone, the one that came to be a symbol of my strength and the strength of our relationship (the piece itself is was a tiny infinity knot, hence the cheesy symbolism). I am still hoping that it will miraculously turn up, but unfortunately circumstances make this seem unlikely.

On top of all that, the week has piled on lots of little annoyances: a sliced open and painful finger, an increasingly annoying coworker (luckily a holdover from my old position with whom I shouldn't have to deal much longer), and a dreary rain that makes things like running, dog park trips, and venturing outside with anything resembling straight hair rather difficult. There have been new shoes that don't fit, toilets that aspire to be rushing rivers, a car that seems to fall apart a bit more every day, and a few painful deductions from my wallet for those pesky necessities like electricity and gas. Dan also started his new work schedule this week, which means that Tues-Thurs he works late and I'm left rather lonely in the evenings. I know it's even harder on him, too, when he has to drive home at 10:30 after a long afternoon/evening of work.

So it's been a crummy week so far. Luckily, there's a bright and shiny three day weekend waiting for me at the end, if it would just hurry up. Meanwhile, I'm going to combat the rain clouds (the ones outside as well as the one that seems to be stuck over my head) by doing a little research...

Here's hoping the back half of this week is happier than the front!

   Love,

    Meg

Thursday Thoughts

 -- This morning before I got to work, I: ran a quick 5k, packed a lunch for the hubs, fed both furballs, stood outside in the cold while a certain furball (ahem) took forever to do her thing, cleaned our guest bathroom, scooped the litter box, cleaned our bathtub (no grapefruit this time, sadly), got myself ready for work, picked up our closet, packed my own lunch, washed dishes, and took out the trash. It is now 9:00, and I am exhausted.

 -- Yesterday after work, I headed to my favorite running spot and cranked out 8 and a quarter particularly happy miles. It was cool but not too cold, my legs felt good, and it was one of those runs where I was just thrilled to be out there moving. My splits were not very consistent, but I was pretty pleased with them.

(mile 3 = all uphill)

 -- After I finished, I headed over to my happy place:

This particular DD still offers pumpkin iced coffee. In April. While this thrills me, I am very concerned that fall will be slightly less exciting when I've been drinking these all year. Whenever I go, I tell myself that I'll just order a regular iced coffee, but somehow the word "pumpkin" slips in there every time. A little self-control would easily fix this problem, but clearly I don't have any of that.

 -- Do the political ads on Pandora really bother anyone else? I take time every day to read trusted sources of political news and stay informed, but I generally consider campaign commercials to be truth distortion at best. I don't care which candidate, party, or lobbying interest has paid for them, I just hate them... and I really hate that now I have to suffer through them several times a day while I listen to music.

 -- While I'm ranting... coworkers whose perfume/hair products/bad breath/general odor I can smell from my own desk? Ick.

 -- I have a package of chicken thawing in the fridge for dinner tonight, meaning we have some big decisions to make in the next 10 hours...

Barbeque chicken quesadillas or chicken tenders? Pesto chicken pasta or buffalo chicken pasta? So many possibilities! 

 -- On a related note, what on earth would I ever cook if it weren't for this amazing blog?

 -- And finally, an important reminder:

Happy Thursday!

   Love,

    Meg

So What Wednesday

Because sometimes, especially on Wednesdays, it's a little hard to care.

So what if…

 -- I'm a little obsessed with breakfast foods right now. My amazing hubby indulged my need (yep, definitely a need) for crispy-to-the-point-of-burnt bacon last night (so worth the smoky haze that settled over the entire apartment for the rest of the evening). He also made cheesy scrambled eggs and the most incredible french toast. The guy has talent. But the cravings continue: today for breakfast and lunch, I packed pumpkin bread and oatmeal. I could seriously go for some hash browns, too. Nothing wrong with eating breakfast three times a day, right?

 -- I'm a little ok, ok, a lot late on the grey nail polish trend. I have been dying to try it for quite a while but didn't have the courage until I saw it on a coworker (on whom I admittedly have a bit of a girl crush... she has adorable, effortless style and is incredibly sweet and successful). Mine don't look nearly as good as hers, but I'm still in love with them.

 -- I park a little closer to the door on super cold mornings at work.

 -- I wish that Siri could do slightly more advanced tasks: "Pump my gas, Siri." "Go to the gym, Siri." "Unplug the shower drain, Siri." "Take Tess for a walk, Siri." No luck on these so far, but I feel sure that she is trainable -- I'll keep you updated on how this goes.

 -- Some days I miss college only because I long for the days that I could roll out of bed, throw on a pair of yoga pants, grab a fantastic cup of coffee, and prop myself up in class behind my laptop. Better yet, I miss the rare days when I could turn off my alarm, skip the class, and start my day closer to lunchtime. Life in the real world makes those four years seem better and better.

 -- I waste large chunks of time daydreaming about my next life, in which I will be a pastry chef with thick, wavy hair, a closet full of cute shoes, and a supersonic metabolism. I'm not asking for much here, people.

 -- I get a little annoyed at the girl in the car in front of me on my commute who is doing more dancing than driving. It may be true she will reach her destination in a much better mood than I if I choose to let her get to me... but happy or not, late to work is late to work.

 -- I forked over big bucks for a nice hotel room on a weekend trip this spring that I'd really rather not take. I'm crossing my fingers that the gorgeous pool and in-room jacuzzi will make up for the high levels stress and frustration that this little "vacation" (ha) is sure to cause.

 -- I crave the same foods over and over again day after day... even when I've just eaten them. I would be thrilled if I could eat pasta and toast and drink iced coffee forever -- days that include those foods are just happier.

So tell me: what are you saying "so what?" to today?

   Love,

    Meg

Life, Soap Opera Style

Apparently, the oh-so-ironic Decider of Fate thought that my life was going a little too smoothly. What with my husband being deployed and my dad's battle with the big ugly C word, you know. Somehow that didn't seem enough. Ladies and gentlemen, you just can't make this shit up:
 -- Yesterday, the furball had to go in for his yearly check-up. The earliest appointment I could get was 9:30, so I stuffed four flailing legs and a wayward tail into his cat carrier and set off for Take Your Feline To Work Day. I was a proud mama through his visit to the office and his appointment: he was quiet, laid back, and even let the vet clip his talons nails. Yup, everything went great until we were about 3 minutes from home, at which point little Toby just couldn't hold it anymore. Within seconds, there was cat pee everywhere: the carrier, the floor, the car seat, and my purse. And of course the cat himself. Who proceeded to flick his little paws and fling it anywhere that it wasn't already. Sorry, is that too much? Just be thankful you weren't there to smell it.
 -- Last night, my trusty little android phone alerted me that there was an available system update. I was a little nervous but decided to go ahead and get it over with. After the installation finished, it took three tries to turn the darn thing on again (sign number one of the problems ahead). Once I finally got it started, several of my beloved apps had disappeared from their respective home screens. I redownloaded a few, but proved too sleepy to bother with anything else. This morning, though, I discovered that several more apps were not working, my email was not syncing, and there was a rather persistent new "low on space" notification. I deleted a few old apps and, thankfully, the message went away and my apps worked again.... for about two hours. When the "low on space" reappeared, I checked just how low I actually was: 40%. Meaning 60% of my memory was free and clear. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't call that low. So I marched on into the V*rizon store across the street and spoke to several employees who had no idea what was causing my problems nor how to fix them (including one who remarked quite articulately "Welp, it's probably broken." Gee thanks, Sherlock.) After poking around the internet, it appears that mine is a common problem... and one for which no one has yet found a solution. At this rate, I'll have deleted all my apps by Thursday in an attempt to keep that nasty little notification at bay. There's a certain support line that will be receiving a very polite but peeved phone call tomorrow morning.
 -- This morning I pulled the overflowing trash bag out of the can as I made my lunch and walked it to the front door. I headed back to the kitchen to grab a few things when I heard a noise and froze. I could make out a low hissing noise -- faint but enough to make even the cat pause and look around. My heart started to pound and I was sure that I was about to come face to face with either a snake or an intruder... and I wasn't sure which was more terrifying. It took a few minutes of creeping around and peeking around corners before I realized that the sound was coming from the trash bag, and it hit me exactly what it sounded like: a can of whipped cream. A can of whipped cream that had not only scared the daylights out of me, but ejected its remaining contents all over my wall. Lovely.
So there you have it... the story of my week. What's that? Only Tuesday night? Oh good, so there's time for this tickle in my throat to turn into a full-blown cold and provide a little cherry for the top of my sundae. No no, I wouldn't want to call it a week just yet.

   Love,

    Meg

When It Rains, It Pours....

.... and typically hails, and almost always floods, and there's usually some impressively large lightning thrown in for effect. At least, that's the kind of week I've been having. Between car trouble, family issues, a nagging stress headache, and a gazillion other minor annoyances, the past several days have packed a bit of a one-two (three-four?) punch. However, in a continuing effort to ward off the crazy focus on the happy, I figured I'd channel my favorite holiday (can you guess?) and talk about a few of the things I've been thankful for lately:

 -- yummy dinners/leftovers: I sauteed okra again last night and am kind of obsessed, and I also baked some great salmon for myself and a friend. I'm pretty excited that a leftover piece is sitting in the fridge waiting to be plopped onto a spinach salad for my lunch today. I also whipped up a box of 'pearled couscous' last night, which I've never tried before. It was delicious!

 -- haircuts: I got my locks trimmed last week, and I love that something so simple always boosts my confidence and gives me a whole new outlook on the world. I feel much lighter and it's great for running, I love how my short little ponytail bounces along behind me!

 -- (A)B&J on a waffle: my new favorite breakfast is something that most people have been enjoying their entire lives, but since I'm allergic to peanuts/peanut butter, the very first PB&J sandwich I had was also my last. After years of being hesitant (although I eat almonds, so I'm not sure why I was worried), I recently bought a jar of almond butter to try. While it's pretty bland by itself, it is the perfect topping to a waffle with a little bit of raspberry jam. I've also discovered that I like to add a spoonful to my oatmeal, and I'm pretty excited to try out a few more combinations that I was deprived of as a kid!

 -- Mumford & Sons on Pandora: I recently set up a new station with Mumford and Sons, David Gray, and Peter Bradley Adams (who I saw in a teeny tiny but excellent concert a few weeks ago). The genius that is Pandora has thrown in a little Matt Nathanson, Mat Kearney, Counting Crows, and of course the occasional Dave Matthews for a perfect balance of mellow and relaxing.

 -- vacations from work: While I love taking a few days off myself (and can't wait until my 4-day weekend in July!), sometimes it's just as nice when co-workers go on vacation. In general I like the people I work with and value their talents and insight, but sometimes it's nice to have fewer interruptions, fewer crises, and a much quieter workday. I am getting so much done this week!

 -- awesome runs: I had a fantastic long run this weekend and have gone on three great shorter runs since then. Despite the heat, I've been feeling great and the miles are flying by faster and easier. I'm crossing my fingers this continues!

 -- Magnum ice cream bars: Please tell me you've tried these. If not, stop right here. Nothing I could write would be more essential to your very well-being than you scooting out the door and getting to a grocery store as fast as your little legs will take you. Really, I can wait. My words will sound much better when you're distracted by crunchy chocolate and smooth ice cream anyway. Let me tell you, these are heaven in frozen form. Perfection-on-a-stick. Pure bliss wrapped in chocolate. The double chocolate are my own personal crack, but I hear that other people like the caramel ones too. I'm just more of a death-by-chocolate girl. The only problem with these? They come in boxes of three (and no, they're not cheap). So far my very small amount of will power has hung on bravely to just one a night, but it's only a matter of time before that snaps like a cheap rubber band and I start bringing them to work too. It's a good (if slightly miraculous) thing that those runs are getting easier, because I'm sure going to need it as the boxes continue to pile up in my trash can.

So there you have it, lots of things to be happy about. Which does seem to ward off that impending bad mood... or if nothing else, now I'm distracted by a sudden and intense need for a Magnum bar. Details, details....

   Love,

    Meg

Terrible Tuesdays

It's official: Tuesday has become the new Monday. With Dan still home from the weekend (why can't I work 4 day weeks?), Mondays are much more bearable because I know that I'm not coming home to an empty apartment. Tuesday, on the other hand...  

Dan woke up this morning around 4:30 and left by 5, meaning that I didn't get back to sleep until at least 5:30. My alarm went off at 6 (and then again at 6:05) to drag me out of bed and to the gym. Since my neighborhood lacks in the "providing a safe place to run" department, I am relegated to the treadmill for any early morning workouts, since there is just no way that I am going to get up early enough to drive somewhere to run and then drive home to shower. 6:00 6:05 is already pushing it, really.

I got to work and my stress level got another little jolt when I started to have weird, blurry tunnel vision. I sat at my computer for about 20 minutes but was barely able to focus on the screen, an unnerving feeling in itself, but one that I knew was only foreshadowing the big event: a monster of a headache that was sure to follow. Eventually the vision corrected itself, and the headache certainly did make itself known right on schedule, but luckily it wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. A little caffeine (best excuse to drink a cherry coke I've ever heard) and a few Tylenol kept it at bay enough for me to focus on my to-do list... which was lucky, because I was ever-so-graciously handed another big project at work today. Lovely. My desk looks like a cyclone blew through and my calendar has gone from empty to booked solid in about three days. The office used to be so low-stress, but now my morning runs are a cakewalk compared to the hours between 8:30 and 5.

Now, to end such a fabulous day, I'm sitting in Panera, having resorted to a strategy I perfected in my college days: when your living space is a mess, relocate. After a weekend of too much baking and too little cleaning, the chaos of my kitchen has begun to creep into the rest of our apartment, and I am now in full avoidance mode. Also, there's that thing about the apartment being empty. Which, recently, comes with the added reminder that it is going to be empty a lot in the next year and a half. Panera is loud and busy, so here I am. The best part though? It was sunny and gorgeous when I walked in, and now it is absolutely pouring. We're talking inches per second here. And my umbrella? In the car, at least 100 yards away. Where else?

Lest you feel too bad for me, though, there were a few little bits of happiness that saved today: a pretty pink scarf to match the (formerly) gorgeous weather, leftover pizza from a great night last night (which included wine and a good friend), an extra long run this morning that was felt easy and good, and the promise of my warm bed on the other side of this horrific rain. Sometimes you just have to focus on the little things, right?

Here's hoping that all of your Tuesdays were... more Tuesday than Monday!

   Love,

    Meg

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I'm feeling particularly crabby today, annoyed by work and money and my busy schedule and the Army and an errant tooth and the clothes I'm wearing and my energy level (did you catch all that? Happy Tuesday!), so I figured it would be a good day to blog about something I don't so much like either. If you're looking for sunshine and inspiration, it's probably best that you come back tomorrow... or at least go outside to read this post.
Let's begin here: I don't deal well with change. More than just "don't like," more than just "not accustomed to," more than just "have a little trouble with." Flat out don't. deal. well. at all. Dread, despise, refuse, loathe, avoid at all costs -- all of those work. Even little tiny changes that wouldn't faze a normal person have a tendency to knock me into a tailspin. It's okay that now you're sitting there wondering about me a little, thinking "how boring!" I know lots of people who can't live without change -- they yearn for variety and get a little hairy when they're stuck in the same place/relationship/routine for too long. I respect these people, I really do, but I can't even begin to understand them. Given the choice between adventure and flux and invariable routine.... well, that's not even a choice for me. I know, I know. How boring. Bear with me though...
The reality is, actually, I adjust pretty well to change on the outside. I can totally fool you into thinking that I'm fine, so basically anyone who knows me doesn't even realize that I have this little issue. It's the inner turmoil that most people never see which leads me to the conclusion that I don't handle change well. It really doesn't matter what the nature of the change is, either: I used to get equally as upset leaving college after two grueling weeks of finals to go home for a much needed break as I did heading back to school after being at home for a month. I was sad to leave a job I didn't actually like. I dread the ends of vacations. I am a whimpering excuse for a human being for at least 2 days after Dan leaves for a long period of training (but never around anyone else).
At the risk of sounding slightly Freudian and blaming my parents (it's really not their fault), I think my extreme hatred of major life changes stems from their divorce. As I can recall, that was the last big adjustment in my life that did not, in fact, produce a massive thunderstorm in my head. I was about 11 when my parents decided to separate and probably 12 by the time my mom moved out and I started to split my time between them, and everyone (parents, grandparents, teachers, friends) watched me make this transition with worried expressions. In the end, though, I managed to prove them all wrong and scaled the hurdle like it was no more than a speed bump. Both inside and out, I emerged from this one apparently unscathed. Apparently.
I have a feeling that the self-composure and strength needed to get through such a big change with the amount of success that I had, though, used up some sort of inner quota. Does anyone know where I can buy a thicker skin and a sense of adventure? With maybe a side of coping mechanism?
I wanted to write about this strong internal objection to change because it is particularly pertinent and growing ever more so. The next year comes with the promise of major changes in almost every part of my life: my job is constantly evolving (sometimes for the better, sometimes not), I'm getting married (don't get me wrong, I'm beyond excited, but still it's pretty big), Dan is leaving for a deployment (hello, living alone), and then there's that little question about law school, a career, and my future. All kinds of big, scary obstacles looming ahead, popping out at the most inopportune times to scare me out of my mind remind me that they're still there. And because I am a wimp, here I sit with my head in the sand, trying hard to pretend I don't feel that tapping on my shoulder. 
So there you have it. Change makes me nauseous, and it's going to be a long year, boys and girls.
For now, it seems that the most obvious solution to this is to go to the gym, sweat a little, and then head home to curl up with the cat, a rather large glass of wine, and a good movie. Please excuse me while I drown my worries in a little merlot.... sorry for being such a pessimistic little raincloud today!

   Love,

    Meg

Funky

I spent most of last week in what can only be described as a first-class funk. I was easily annoyed, cranky, perpetually sleepy, and just uncharacteristically down-in-the-dumps. Part of it was Dan being gone and part was the stress of the past few weeks catching up with me, but I think it was mostly brought on by the fact that I knew I had to wear a bikini this past weekend.
Go ahead, laugh. Judge me for being overly sensitive and insecure. Chuckle at the fact that I let a piece of clothing ruin my week. It's ok, I can take it. It's all true: even though I work out a lot, try to eat right, and struggle to keep my self-image at a healthy level, the thought of this body in a bikini in February is enough to make me want to head for the hills. May? Perhaps. June? Definitely. February? Absolutely not.
This handy little rule of thumb created a problem, though: Dan's grandparents have a glorious hot tub on their back porch, and one of our favorite things to do when we visit them is enjoy a little late-night dip -- a glass of wine (for me), a perfect view of the lake, and the two of us relaxing under the stars. It doesn't get much better than that. This time around, however, I knew that things would be a little different. Dan's entire family would also be with us. In the hot tub.
Don't get me wrong, I am marrying into one of the nicest and most welcoming families you could ever find. From the day Dan and I started to date, his family treated me as one of their own, and I have never once felt out of place or awkward spending time with them. It's really not that I feel uncomfortable wearing a bikini in February around them specifically, but that I would feel uncomfortable wearing a bikini in February around anyone. Ever. I would hate to cause anyone, especially a future family member, to become prematurely blind.
The reality of this situation hit me like cold gust of air last Monday morning. A bikini. February. (I know, I know. But really, I don't think it can be stated enough.) I immediately knew that I was going to have to be on my best behavior all week. I'm definitely not a crash-diet, starve-myself-skinny kind of girl, but I was prepared to up the exercise and shrink my portions a little bit in an effort to make this hot tub thing as painless as possible. So Monday, I went to the gym. Tuesday, as you may recall, I went back to the gym. Wednesday, believe it or not (I sure didn't), I went to the gym for a third day in a row (definitely a first around these parts). All week, I tried to eat well and avoided all the good stuff -- chocolate, pasta, baked goods (hold me). I worked hard to only eat when I was actually hungry, and I cut way back on the mindless munching that takes place at my desk on a regular basis. I skipped my Starbucks and opted for salads at dinner.
By Thursday, I was doing really well, but my little funk was in full swing. Usually when I'm trying so hard to be good, I will occasionally just give in and splurge, but last week I stuck with it and instead seemed to get progressively angrier and angrier with myself. I knew all my efforts were good for me and would help in the long run, but I was seriously ticked off at myself for putting myself through this. I was annoyed that it mattered so much to me and got a little more resentful each time I denied myself something I knew I shouldn't have. So Thursday after work, I resolved to go out and treat myself to something as: 1. a reward for doing pretty well all week and 2. an attempt to drag myself out of my bad mood. I headed to one of my favorite places to shop: Target. No matter what I go in for, I always leave this store with several items that I never knew I needed (but clearly do). So I searched. I browsed through the clothes, looked at their scarves, searched through electronics and shoes. I picked up a Valentine's day card and a small gift for Dan. I doubled back around and walked through the clothes section again. Nothing. I have never in my life not found a single thing I wanted to purchase in Target, but apparently I was so deep into my funk that nothing looked good to me. This realization only made me more angry. I did make one purchase for myself (more on that later), but it was exercise-related and I didn't think it was really fair to reward myself for a good week of exercise with the threat of more exercise (or at least that's what I told myself).
Frustrated and dejected, I left Target and drove down the street to Dunkin Donut's to buy myself an iced coffee. I knew that this was my last line of defense before slipping deeper into my pit of grouchiness and angst, and luckily it did the trick. Of course, all night I felt a little guilty for those extra calories, but I was really happy to be feeling more like my normal self. Lesson learned: next time, instead of wasting time searching for something I don't need, I will skip straight to the $3 cup of coffee.
The kicker? When we got down to Dan's grandparents' house on Saturday night.... the hot tub was broken.

   Love,

    Meg

Making Frenemies at the Gym

The weather here was forecasted to be in the 50's and sunny this past Sunday and Monday -- a dream come true after several weeks of 30's and rainy. I was so excited to finally get a chance to run outside, and the weather on Sunday did turn out to be perfect, but what with being lazy all morning and having to consume so many chicken-dip laden chips that evening, I just didn't have time to fit in anything resembling physical activity. Bummer, right? I promised myself I'd get out right after work on Monday, though, so somehow I managed to live with my sedentary self.
By 5:00 Monday, however, the temperature had again dropped and I knew that an outdoor run would be pretty miserable (that's right, I'm a wimp). After the food-fest that was Sunday night, I knew I had to do something, so I headed down to my favorite treadmill... womp womp. Four miles later, I felt a little bit better about things, even though I was still pretty sad that I missed a great day to run outside. I am beyond sick of the inside of our gym, as convenient and temperature-controlled as it may be. I hoped that after this, at least, my guilt over the curious absence of workouts from last week's calendar would be lifted for at least a day.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I got home around 8 last night and discovered that I actually kind of wanted to go back to they gym. I have no idea what kind of circuits in my brain were misfiring to cause this highly out-of-character urge, but luckily I knew enough not to question it. I threw on shorts, laced up my shoes, and headed down there just to see what might happen. I've been having some knee pain when I run that gets a lot worse if I don't give myself time to recover from each run, so I knew I wouldn't want to get right back on the treadmill. Instead, I hopped onto a machine that I've never used before but that has always seemed very popular. Apparently it's called an "Arc Trainer," but I was pretty sure it was basically a glorified elliptical, the machine that used to be my best gym friend back when I was scared of treadmills (remember? I'm a wimp!). I wasn't exactly concerned about my ability to function on this thing, so I set it for 40 minutes on level 5 (out of 9) of the "cardio" program. It started off easily enough with an "intensity" of 10 and then 15 -- it took a little while to get used to the pattern of movement, but being a seasoned elliptical user I caught on without too much trouble and was just feeling proud of myself for conquering a new machine when the intensity suddenly rocketed from 15 to 50.... and I almost fell off.

After a few minutes of moving along at a nice, easy clip, all of a sudden I was slogging through quicksand, struggling to keep my head above water. For the first time, I questioned whether I really should have followed those directions and consulted my physician before engaging in such strenuous activity. Luckily I was the only one working out at the time, so I didn't have to embarrass myself in front of any judgmental neighbors (although the thought did cross my mind that if I died, I might have had to wait a while for medical assistance).

Now I don't fool myself (or anybody else) by claiming to be superathletic. I'm struggling hard to find a place where running is easy and fun, and while some days I win that fight, more often than not I lose miserably and have to bribe myself with chocolate or wine (or both) to get through a workout. That being said, if I can make 4 miles on a treadmill, 4 minutes on an "Arc Trainer" really shouldn't kick my butt, but it totally did. It was incredibly tough, but I stuck with it for the whole 40 minutes, waiting the whole time for my heart to spontaneously burst from my chest and flop onto the floor, panting and clutching itself. 10 minutes in I was sweating from pores that I didn't even know existed, and by the end I was drenched and more exhausted than I've been in months. It was by far one of the hardest workouts I've completed, and even though I kind of wanted to die, I was so proud of myself for finishing and found myself already planning to incorporate this machine into my workout schedule. Am I crazy? Probably. Hopefully it will get easier if I continue to use it, but this looks suspiciously like the beginning of a love-hate relationship...

   

   Love,

    Meg

In Which a $16 Car Inspection Costs Me $511

Yep, the title says it all. I got up at the crack of dawn this morning to take my car in for an inspection. I happened to look down at the sticker on my windshield yesterday on the way to work and realized that I had been supposed to get one in December and completely forgotten. Each year, this little act of good citizenry seems to escape me -- I was late last year too and feel so guilty about it! This would be the point where Dan informs you that I am, in fact, blonde in real life, and I hide my head, ashamed that I look like such a delinquent. I was truly worried about whether the guys at the repair shop were going to yell at me for being so late (luckily they didn't).
I wanted to get it in right when they opened at 7 so that I could hopefully finish in time to grab coffee (my car place is on the same side of town as Dunkin' Donuts, which is a slight obsession of mine) and get to work by 8:30. My airbag light had other ideas. I should have realized that would have been too good to be true. Don't get me wrong, I'm really thankful that they found the problem and were able to fix it (in one day, no less), but I'm less than thrilled about the huge invoice that came with it. This is the third time since I graduated that my car has required some rather expensive tlc, and as much as I love my little jeep, this cycle is getting a little old. Plus, I'm still a little bitter that I didn't get my coffee this morning.... 

   Love,

    Meg

Life As I See It, Right At This Moment

It has been one of those weeks. You know, one of those weeks. The kind of week that sneaks up behind you, trips you, throws a bag over your head, kicks you a few times in the ribs, jumps up and down on you a little, and then, when you finally pull yourself to your feet again, follows you for a couple blocks and does it all again. Oh yes, one of THOSE. If it could possibly go wrong, this week, it has. The heater in my car is broken, there is something painfully wrong with my knee, the apartment is a mess. I broke one of my favorite coffee mugs, I've had a headache for three days now, and our plans for New Year's Eve went up in smoke. I could go on (and on and on), but suffice it to say it's been a long, bad week.... and it's only Wednesday.
When I hit a slump like this, I always have a tough time pulling myself to my feet and forcing myself to break the streak. I know that a lot of people in this situation would simply sit themselves down for a little pep talk and tell themselves to think positively. For me, though, it tends to take some outside force to end a slew of crappy days -- either a fortuitous event that comes along and turns things right around, or some realization that forces me to stop feeling so bad for myself. Luckily, tonight I stumbled across that little trip-wire and was smacked in the head with a lesson in perspective: no matter how bad things are, they could always be worse. It sounds cheesy but it is so true -- it's what I realize every spring night that I lie back on the warm pavement at night and stare up into the massive expanse of stars. Life is so much bigger than all of our little problems, even when several little ones snowball into a big, ugly pile of problems. It's time for me to be grateful that my life is as good as it is, because in the end, that always turns out to be good enough.

   Love,

    Meg