Category Archives: changes

I’m Looking At You, 2012

I’ve decided that New Years Day is my favorite holiday. What other holiday is made for a hangover?

With New Years Eve pulling up a close second. When else can wearing glitter on your nails be accepted? (I’m hoping this acceptance carries over to January 5th as I don’t know how to take it off without ruining the rest of the manicure. Viva la sparkle!)

All that said, I found myself sad when the countdown into 2012 began. I pouted to Matt, which he interpreted as the new kiss for 2012. After our signals were back in sync I explained that years like 2011 just don’t happen twice in a lifetime. It’s all over. Done.

Not that I necessarily want another year filled with:

Any one of those things would have made for a big year… but ALL in the span of twelve little months? You have to respect a year that packs all that in.

Therefore I boycotted the countdown. Mostly because it’s really hard to yell numbers while pouting.

Until, through a champagne induced haze, I realized just because we are in a new year doesn’t mean I have to give up all the treasures and joy that was 2011. It just means that this can be a year where I sit with it all. A year where I can be content with life. And quite possibly bored out of my ever loving mind.

I’m looking at 2012 as my year long New Years Day. My hangover year from a non-stop, whirlwind, highly stressful but completely fabulous 2011.

Bring it on Twelve. I’m ready.

happy new year!

 

Two Years

Two years ago today was the best first date ever.

In two years we went from this:

To this:

We went from boyfriend/girlfriend, to husband and wife.

From bachelor, to “Dad”.

From struggling single mom, to “Wife and mother.”

From renters, to home owners.

From not being eaten by a little white fuzz ball as you put on your pants, to being eaten by a little white fuzz ball and stupidly happy about it.

From lonely, to complete.

From one, to two.

The very best two.

Pack ‘em Up and Move ‘em Out!

In less than 24 hours, Matt and I will be homeowners.  Which is awesome and completely panic evoking.
We went to the final walk through last night with, “YAY!  This is so exciting!  Our own house. Parties! Puppies! Pansies!  Oh my!” and left with “Holy shit that’s a lot of work…”

Regardless of the work we are thrilled to be moving, if only for the fact that our apartment currently looks like Delta Chi after Homecoming.  If I find a passed out sorority girl under a pile of dirty clothes, I’ll give her a glass of water and fare for a cab ride home.

It’s so bad that I was going to take cutelookwearemovingthehouseisamess pictures but realized if they got into the wrong hands social services would be at my door faster than news of Bin Laden’s death hit Twitter.

When I moved the last time, I had to pack so fast I didn’t really go through anything.  This time, I don’t want any junk (or bad juju) in my pretty-new-the-yard-is-a-mess-and-wow-we-didn’t-notice-that-before house.  This translates into going through EVERYTHING!

Baskets of clothes, drawers, closets, Tupperware bins.  It’s painful and therefore I do A LOT of whining, complaining, and procrastination.

One of these said drawers is in a big entertainment unit.  I’ve had this piece for almost 11 years now and have NEVER gone through this drawer.  Things have gone in but nothing comes out.  Until now!  It was time to finally go through it all and clean it out.  Out with the old life, in with the new.  That and Matt said “Seriously Honey… what’s in there?”

Excellent question.

Answer: birthday, Christmas, Valentine, Mother’s Day, Thinking of You, Get Well Soon, baby shower, Thank you, and any other Hallmark occasion greeting card I received from 1998 – 2011.  If you sent me a card during this time, I want you to know I have kept your sincere notes for a decade, and now you’re in the trash.  Oh and whoever “Mary” was, that card was so funny!

Also in this magically, freakishly large, clown car drawer, were 1,502 Uno cards, 890 playing cards, owners manual to a VCR, ex-boyfriend bank statements, 3 pairs of dice, a butane refill (I have never smoked or lived with anyone that did. But good thing I had that in there for 10 years), candles, 3,401 pictures (many of ex boyfriends and ex dogs) and a small man named Bill.

I’ll admit it took me two days to go through this beast.  I suppose if one were more mature and had less, “Seriously this is awful, can’t I stop? I have to check Facebook and now I’m hungry” it would have taken an hour.

But it’s done.  My bad juju past is gone, sweet cards from Ben, my parents and my current partner have remained.  Now I can’t wait to start filling that black hole of furniture with more treasures for Ben to go through in 2062.

So dear readers, we come to yet another lack of blogging excuse.  If you don’t hear from me by June, look under a pile of boxes.

Oh and p.s., if you ever find me buying another black v-neck sweater, pajama bottoms or socks, you personally have my permission to punch me in the left boob.

The right boob is reserved for Bath and Body Works lotion.  Currently I could moisturize the entire state of Wisconsin.  And we’d all smell like Japanese Cherry Blossom.

Ka-OUCH to 5K

When I was a little girl I knew I wanted to be either a ballerina, teacher or waitress when I grew up. Didn’t everyone have aspiring dreams to be a waitress?

The other thing I really wanted to be was a runner.

My dad was a runner.  Not some willy nilly jogger who ran around the block every other week.  No, my dad was the real deal.  In his heyday he was running 6 days a week for a total of about 55 miles. I’m pretty sure I haven’t even walked 55 miles in my lifetime.

He ran many races and even did the Twin Cities marathon.  I loved watching him get ready, Shoo Goo his shoes each night, ice his Achilles heel each morning, not to mention the mountain of race t-shirts I coveted.

My father ran well into his 60′s when at his final race, looking a little too worse for wear my mother said, “STOP! You’re done!”  He may have been done doing races but he continued his morning jogs until just a few years ago. Now, at 80 years young, he still walks many times a week.

This is my SUPER long way to say, I WANNA RUN!!!

I’ve been working out steadily for a year now. (Whoa. Just writing that is crazy.  I’ve never stuck with exercise for this long, EVER!)  First it was the walking, with a dabble in running.  But honestly that was just when I was going downhill.  With arms flailing while trying not to fall on my face.

Last July I bought the “Couch to 5K” app and tried it.

Once.

Did you ever play that drinking game in college called, “Century Club”?  Well I hear (because of course I NEVER played it) it was a wholesome game of drinking a shot of beer for a minute for 100 minutes. Again I never played it, but if I did I would say that in the beginning it’s super easy.  “One shot of beer? That’s nothing.”  However, as the minutes go on you feel as though having Glenn Beck as a roommate would be a better fate than this.

C25K is like that.  The first time when the voice said “run” and I ran for those first 60 seconds I was all, “This isn’t bad. No problem.”  However, by the 4th time I heard “run” I wanted to cry and hurt the voice.  When he said “You’re half way done.” in his insipid monotone way I said, “Nope buddy. I’m done!” and walked the rest of the way.

I hung up the app until last week.

It was a rare beautiful spring day and I was just going to take a walk.  Until I remember the tucked away app.  I turned it on and when I heard “run” I ran.  And guess what?  It wasn’t painful.  It was, dare I say, FUN!  When my friend said, “You’re half way done” I said “Oh, really? Huh.”

So I did it.  The whole workout.  And then I did it again.  And again!  Apparently my many months of Zumba-ing and Water Fit-ing all over town have paid off.  Now I’ve graduated to Week 2 with 90 seconds of running and 2 minutes of walking.

The thing is I want this so bad.  I want to finally be able to label myself as a runner without having my nose grow.

Tomorrow I am going to Seattle for four days to help Amy celebrate her birthday in style.  (80′s prom style. You can bet there will be a blog post coming…) Since hearing of my new hobby, Amy suggested we run on Saturday.  To which I said, “You got it as long as running in 60 second spurts won’t slow you down at all.”

This program is supposed to get you to the point where you can run a 5K in just 9 weeks.  I’m not going to push myself.  If I have to repeat weeks and days, I do.  The important thing is that I will do it.  One thing that having diabetes has showed me is that I have some serious will power.  I am strong like bull.

And crossing that finish line of my first 5K will taste way better than a year of chocolate ever could.