A Frozen Halloween + A Blue Baby Shower + A Fall Foliage Stroll + A Monday Run

While I have a full heart, I dreaded the return to work on this Monday morning. I spent the weekend in the Research Triangle visiting friends. And it was oh so wonderful. I listened and talked, talked and listened for a solid three days.

I partied with a Frozen family on Halloween. And consumed an abundance of candy on the one calorie-less candy day a year.

I celebrated K.N.K.F. at her blue baby shower, and pridefully won the "Who knows K.N.K.F. the best?" competition game. If you're counting, I also, with the help of a teammate, won another game--turns out, I'm competent in baby animals terms. The countdown continues; if Baby R.J.F. agrees with his due date, he'll grace us in just 37 days!

I ate entirely too much Mexican food at Moe's, Bandido's, and Nana Taco.

I leisurely strolled through the gorgeous Duke Forest with my pregnant friend and her dog. The fall foliage was stunning. I thought Washington, D.C. was filled with greenery, however, I'm rethinking that. It's uncertain to me whether or not there are trees here in the city I call home. The trees in North Carolina were painted with color. I could have walked forever had I been dressed more appropriately.

I rejoiced in the end of Daylight Savings Time. This not only provided an extra hour to my weekend, it did so on a weekend when I was visiting a friend I haven't seen in over a year. (Scheduling is hard.)

Before finding my way to the office, I made time for a five miler to decompress after a fun, fun weekend. I again rejoiced in the new sunrise time--6:39 am--because I was able to cruise through a more scenic route provided the light. I had been running laps around the same "illuminated" streets, and I was frankly bored. I'm not entirely prepared for the winter months of treadmill-ing... yet. The fueling of my body with three Mexican meals (in a weekend), more chocolate than I'd care to admit, and entirely too much party food during a baby shower made for a solid run. Not. I needed today's run to brace myself for the week... and, of course, to burn some of the garbage I added to my waistline.

The time spent with friends and our friendships that transcend time and moves and marriages (and soon a baby!) was, per usual, super short but the time away from adult-ing long.  The early mornings and late nights of disregarding exhaustion can remain fun for so long. After a couple days away, the abrupt jump back into routine was nice. May there be balance in life.

NFL Pick 'Em: Week 4

I'm participating in an NFL Pick 'Em league this year, and it's the demise of me. Of course, I paid so I will continue to play through the season's end because I recently discussed my issues with quitting.

The largest contribution to my inability to win are my irrational reasons for picking all sorts of teams. I'm apparently sensitive though; it nearly kills me to pick against "my" team(s), when in reality my only team is the Kansas City Chiefs. Here I encounter problem numbero uno: As might be expected, I can't pick anyone in the AFC-West, the Chiefs' division. I'm looking at the Denver Broncos, San Diego Chargers, and Oakland Raiders. Except, Peyton [Manning], I kind of like him, minus the fact he reigns in Denver.

Then, I move forward, I have Clemson Tigers playing for the Buffalo Bills (and ZERO affiliation with the Bills beyond this), (un)naturally, I feel inclined to pick them. Thankfully, C.J. Spiller and Sammy Watkins came through for me in Week 1 and 2. This "strategy" was unsuccessful in Week 3.

I semi-lived in Atlanta, Georgia during the Michael Vick days, so I feel inclined to pull for him (and, more recently, his New York Jets). And I question my own integrity in even rooting for Vick because he fought dogs(!!!). I went to an ACC school during the Matt Ryan era at Boston College... and also, again, semi-lived in Atlanta, which apparently qualifies me as a part time Falcons fan. For a far less criminal reason, I should also dislike Ryan because he crushed all my hopes and dreams one unseasonably cold November night during my junior year at Clemson University. But I don't because I guess I find him relate-able.

I could go on and on and on.

Pops' whole family resides in Michigan. It's also where both my parents were born and raised. So Detroit Lions, I'm pulling for you. But Boyfriend is a diehard Green Bay Packers fan, and I also babysat for a diehard Packers' fan in college. Are all Packers' fans so nutty? This was a challenge in Week 3 when the two played each other; I ultimately opted for the Lions... for the win.

The Dallas Cowboys are disgusting. I'm unsure of all the reasons why, I just know Pops has said so all my life. On the disgusting front, there is also Ben Roethlisberger (i.e., the Pittsburgh Steelers).

I live in Washington Redskins territory. There hasn't been a second in my tenure here that I've claimed or followed the Redskins. I live on the Capital Beltway side though; I'm Redskins over Baltimore Ravens each and every day.

My former boss was a Cincinnati Bengals fan, so there's that. 

You see? Endless.

The aforementioned is one side of the issue, the other: I'm in a league with 36 people, vastly reducing my odds. In Week 3, four people, including myself, went 13-3. The verdict came down to some bizarre concoction of not one but two tiebreakers, and I somehow ended up in the bottom half of the four (i.e., not the winner). I'm entirely too competitive for this point in my life, which has resulted in Week 1, Week 2, and Week 3 temper tantrums; Week 3 being the utmost painful.

So while I'll endure the final challenges--14 in total, I'm counting the $20 down as a loss.

How are you going gold?

Over the past two years my interest in childhood cancer has grown tremendously. As a result, I’ve been reading more first person accounts of the childhood cancer. I came across this article this morning from The Huffington Post and I would encourage you to read the full article here.

"I never thought I'd hear those words, 'Your daughter has cancer' ... and then one day I did," says Melissa Bradley, whose 4-year-old daughter, Belle, is currently in treatment.

The devastating reality is that a parent hears that news every three minutes.

And while childhood cancer is the leading cause of death by disease in kids under 15, research remains underfunded -- currently, less than 4 percent of the National Cancer Institute's budget is allocated to research it.

As I have mentioned here and here, Latte Woman's 13-year old son has osteosarcoma (bone cancer). And while I have seen so much good pour out of the community on behalf of Mathias, I live each day with a pit in my stomach. I can't say it enough: This isn't fair. Mathias is a child; a kind and brave and wonderful and smart child. He will forever be a my super star. Sadly, though, he isn't the only childhood cancer warrior. There are so many.

This month is Childhood Cancer Awareness month. Our once yearly, month-long reminder to stand up to this disease. We have a  responsibility to continue to fight for our children. I'm doing a small part to learn as much as I can about childhood cancer and spread awareness at each opportunity.

Join the fight. We're all going gold, together.

Thinking Out Loud

There are so many unrelated thoughts floating through my head right now. Let's assume you care.

• Dan Uggla played, as a professional baseball player, for the San Francisco Giants. He went 0-8 with three errors. Dan, Dan, Dan is not your—San Francisco or otherwise—man. Poor Uggla. We—we, the Atlanta Braves, still owe him upwards of 20 million dollars. So while he may not be doing good on the field work, he’s doing alright. (In other words, I would trade shoes paychecks with him.) Please note, I am absolutely not on the bandwagon rooting for Uggla to fail; I hope he finds success again at some future point.
• Boyfriend went for a run (and then another run and one more run after that; he went for three total runs). I am not to speak of such events. He ran all by his lonesome in our apartment gym. And I am still gleaming a full week plus later. I am almost confident this was a three-time thing, though I will remain forever hopeful he will someday enjoy running alongside me (on the easy days).
• The office bathroom is never empty. I am continually peeved by this. This girl appreciates her privacy.
• I checked out I am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban by Malala Yousafzai from the library four times to finish it. The entire book is 317 pages. I could not get into the book, until the final third. The message is fabulous. I am inspired by the young activist. I am devastated for the lives of so many of the people of Pakistan, specifically the women and children. I am in awe of the courage of Malala's father, standing out "against" his own people for education. I wanted to praise the book, but found it riddled with far too much history, history complex beyond my own understanding. This unfortunately translated to choppy reading. The story did, however, make me think and challenged me to remember these issues do touch my life—not to mention my heart.

 You can all sleep peacefully at once.

Fragments of Summer

Life accelerates to warp speed in the summer. As a result, all kinds of things happened that never rose to the level of having their own blog post. Since this is my only semblance of a scrapbook, please pardon me while I recap a few things.

1. Boyfriend and I battled a nuisance of a specie, The Fruit Fly. A large army of fruit flies invaded our kitchen, in the most unpleasant of matters. There were a lot of tears shed during battle. Those flies belong in the Biology Lab I left them in, circa 2004. In a jar of apple cider, the entire army eventually plummeted to their death and we--with all thanks to Boyfriend--were victorous in war. For now anyway.
   
2. On the subject of war, I have been battling a mysterious case of bursitis (in my groin). The injury is not from overtraining or even running, hypothetically speaking. It is most likely from a nasty spill I took in February, supposedly "ruining" my gait for what feels like all eternity. My life has become painful; everything--and I do mean everything (from biking to running to sitting to walking)--hurts. I am quite devastated as I was on track to qualify for the Boston Marathon at the Chicago Marathon in October... and now I cannot run, heck walk. I have visited three doctors; religiously stretched, iced, and heated; and, most importantly, rested. There has been no change. In fact, my hip has become aggravated, from what I suspect is overcompensating for bursitis and sitting in an office chair for hours on end. You cannot win all the wars. 
3. The Washington, D.C. collective bid H.M.O. farewell to over happy hour, after she moved in with Boyfriend and I for a few nights. Her departure was most upsetting. I hoped her stay would be eternal.
   
4. In June, Boyfriend and I ate solely from our pantry--purchasing only fresh produce and milk. We are members at Costco, where we often overdue it. This has led to brining home a 10-pound bag of black beans; a 10-pound bag of sugar; 20 cans of diced tomatoes; and/or enough Cheez-Its to last a milineum. The only fail, if it can be called that, I prefer to think of it as genorousity, was spending $2.04 on chocolate chips to make my 'office famous' fudge for a coworker's birthday, per her request. (4a.) I psuedo quit my 2014 Personal Goals challenge, like all decent resolution makers tend. I have still been partaking in a challenge each month, however, I am basing these goals on praticallity of my life at the start of the month. And I am not writing about them, except for now, because snooze. 
5. There has been time spent with K.S.D., my old roommate, double dating at some Northern Virginia establishments (i.e., FrozenYo and BonChon). The company of her and her lad is always welcomed (and refreshing).
6. M.E.K. and her husband visited over Fourth of July weekend. I had lunch with them on a slow working Wednesday before the holiday, then Boyfriend and I were able to meet them at ShopHouse, a Chipotle-owned Southeast Asian-inspired kitchen, for dinner on Thursday. Things do not get too fancy when the Midwesterners visit! I have reason to keep them around though because... they like dessert, so went opted for Pitango Gelato (and Red Velvet Cupcakes for some).
7. Boyfriend and I finally made it to Boyou Bakery for brunch. Why--tell me why--we waited so long? There are few things better than devouring supremely made biscuits and beignets on a patio with a close companion. So yummy! So affordable!  
8. R.D.S. and her fiancé also visited during the Fourth of July holiday. We met them, along with their friends, for brunch at Red Apron Butchery on Saturday. Afterwards, we visited the National Building Museum, which can only be described as lacking; do not follow our lead.

   

   These posters in the Designing for Disaster exhibit belong on my wall. 

9. On this same Saturday, Boyfriend and I visited the Smithsonian Folklife Festival, featuring Kenya and China. I endured stomach pains while Boyfriend meanered throughly through Kenya. I loved what I saw (and heard). We'll definitely be back next year. And we'll come hungry, the ethnic food looked mighty appealing.
   
10. I made bagels using a recipe from Mel's Kitchen Cafe, my lastest food blog obession. The taste and texture were close to perfect, especially for my first attempt. They weren't as pretty (or as large) as I had hoped, but I'm looking forward to experimenting further in a second attempt. Parmesan and sundried tomato? Cinnamon raisin? The world is my oyster. 
    
11. A variety of epics salads have been prepared in my kitchen for any number of meals, including breakfast. So. Many, many, many. Epic. Salads. There are no recipes, lending these salads to an uncountable number of combinations. These might be rooted in my attempt to 'cheat the challenge' during June; inspired by summer--the season of produce; or because I am too lazy to plan and cook and also too cheap to let the produce I have stocked up on--much too much for two people--waste away in my fridge.
    
12. I have seen some real bad baseball at Nationals Park, featuring the Houston Astros and Chicago Cubs. In the name of the Altanta Braves, I have unsuccesfully cheered for victorious underdogs. More successfully, I have sharpened my 'scoring baseball' skills. Not unrelated: Have I mentioned Boyfriend and I now have MLB.com Gameday Audio, for the price of $20. It has revolutionized my world. The Braves will take on the troubled Cubs here in an hour, and I will listen while I work.

And here we are at the midpoint of summer with a fury of weddings (and related travel) on the horizon.

Countdown to October 12, 2014

These words will be forced as I have been in no mood to write as of late. I am fighting a block in the writing domain. This is most unfortunate as I have much to record.

Onwards.

I have big news! On Monday, April 14 I found out I won The Lottery. For the Chicago Marathon. While I had a fair shot at winning—33,000 of 71,000 entrants were provided spots, I was elated when my congratulatory email reached my inbox (at exactly 2:45 pm after waiting for what felt like forever). There are many things about running Chicago in October that feel right. The first being, I am running again. And I have been consistently doing so for nearly two months, working myself up to 10-plus mile weekend long runs. At paces that will qualify me for Boston, no less.

All the while, I am also enjoying running again. This is something I have not been able to say for a long, long time. But each time I lace up my shoes and run alongside the Potomac River or in front of monuments people travel to see or on the quiet, blossoming tree-bordered Four-Mile Trail, I feel so lucky to be living in this city. Plus, for extra motivation, Washington, D.C. is littered with runners.

Truthfully, it’s hard to complain about running when it’s a perfect 50 degrees at 6:00 am. (There cannot be enough positive things spewed about this weather. The most notable change—my mood. From drab to alive. I am not an unbearable, fulltime grouch. Just a seasonal grouch. And with that, I can deal.) This will be more difficult to say as the temperatures rise. But summer is not winter. And that alone feels right. 

After a stress fracture (ouch!) while training for the Cleveland Marathon in May 2007, I promised myself I would not train for running-related events going forward because PAIN. (This was the first and only running injury I have had. It came after y-e-a-r-s of pounding pavement. And it nearly ruined running for me. This event and time is not something I intend to ever relive. Re: Ouch!) For the past seven years, I have stayed true to that word. By essentially not running. To be entirely honest, I have since flirted with running because, again, PAIN. So all stars aligned (i.e., no injuries), this will be my first marathon. On a flat, fast Chicago course… with both a seasoned childhood friend and college companion enduring the challenge beside me.

I will not be running second-rate, fallback marathons in Richmond or Philadelphia. I will be running Chicago on October 12, 2014. The official training begins in June. Until then, I will be preparing for the Virginia Wine Country Half Marathon in late-May. Hooray happy, injury-free running! 

March Goal: A Review

I completed my March goal; I finished the five books I set out to read. My current position provides me a glorious, hour-long break for lunch. And because I do not have (or want) coworker friends, I spend my lunch time reading in the huge atrium at the National Portrait Gallery, a location that makes my little heart happy on the coldest of winter days; Barnes & Noble; or on a random bench on the rare warm-enough days. I also recently discovered a quaint court house–optimal for dining–inside my work-local Panera. And last, there is a neat zen garden across the street from my office. The downside to this otherwise neat spot is the the lingering smells of cigarette smoke, which is a scent that doesn't exactly scream "hang out here for lunch." And sadly this is an area where smokers congregate, despite the plethora of signs citing this area is NOT for puffing.

So when I am not walking around scouting new spots for dining and linger, I’m reading.

And these were my five picks for March:

1. A House in the Sky by Amanda Lindhout and Sara Corbett – This was by far the best book I read this month. It’s a memoir, of course, detailing Lindhout’s time in captivity in Somalia.
2. Tuesday’s With Morrie by Mitch Albom – My parents have encouraged me to read this for oh about the last nine years, around the time I began reading for pleasure, no longer feeling it was a miserable chore. After forcing my way through Albom’s Five Years in Heaven during my freshman year of college, I had no desire to pick up this book. Well, I finally did. And happily so. I would not give this book glowing reviews but it is short enough to enjoy; it felt like a meaningful, long blog post. The words were wise. And the story of time Albom spent with his dying college professor, Morrie Schwartz, made me want to live a kinder, slower life.
3. Divergent by Veronica Roth – I had high hopes for this book after the rumored comparisons to Hunger Games. This book was a total disappointment. I am not sure why I finished reading. I am not even sure I will see the movie.  
4. Slim for Life: My Insider Secrets to Simple, Fast, and Lasting Weight Loss by Jillian Michaels – I was sorely disappointed. There were very few new tips. And the “secrets” were repetitive, really repetitive.
5. The Antelope in the Living Room: The Real Story of Two People Sharing One Life by Melanie Shankle – I have followed Shankle at The Big Mama Blog for almost two years now. This is her second book. And while this book is much like her first – Sparkly Green Earring – in that it’s essentially a series of blog posts strung together in a book, I found the content worth reading. It’s easy and light and happy; I laughed often (and nearly cried once or twice). Her tales made me appreciate companionship and the challenge it can sometimes be to share your life with someone else. 

In addition to my lunch hour, I was also aided by winter. Until yesterday afternoon, it was still very much winter in the mid-Atlantic. So I read and weep and hoped for Spring. (It just might be here!)

And finally, I have yet to indulged in a day of solitude nor have I really started learning the Arabic alphabet--my personal and spiritual goals for the year. I have allotted time for these activities in April; it seems adding this to the calendar might in fact be the only way I am successful.

April is upon us, may it be sunny.

February Goal: A Review

I'm back again with an update on my 2014 Personal Goals. My goal in February was to follow a strict vegan diet. And, for several reasons, I failed this before even starting. I am on a strict budget therefore I was not about to throw out half the food in the refrigerator only to replace these items with vegan counterparts. Another was, I'm lazy. There is a lot more work that goes into living a vegan lifestyle; my normal dinner 'go to' options are not often vegan. I did make an effort to prepare several vegan dinners I originally pulled recipes for and planned once the cabinets were cleared. And most of these were successes. Overall though, I was about 20% vegan. Big fail.

Because straight-up giving up is lame, I opted to ditch coffee in lieu of living vegan. And it was hard. In the beginning. On a normal week, I "allow" myself two cups of coffee. I'm on the fence about the amount of caffeine one should consume and somewhere along the way decided two cups per week was the right amount for a person of my stature. Even more limiting, I drink these cups on Monday and Friday, figuring those are the toughest days for me to battle. The twice weekly coffee boost has worked for me. If I ever need more caffeine, I opt for green tea.

This month has naturally been all about the green tea. And it was during this month I realized just how little I delight in green tea. I do not mind this option on occasion but I will never be a full convert. (That was not my goal, just a simple statement of fact.) I tried it hot, I tried it cold. I tried three different brands (this month)--Adagio, Bigelow Tea, and Mighty Leaf. But I persevered. And I was 98% successful. My one indulgence being three ounces on a gorgeous Saturday while visiting home. I resisted on Friday and Sunday. But Saturday, with the weather being oddly nice, my productivity was at full speed. And coffee--my dad's coffee--was too much to resist.

Further, regarding failing in February, I still have not indulged in a day of solitude nor have I really started learning the Arabic alphabet--my personal and spiritual goals for the year.

There was enough going on in February to keep the calendar full--a second 'brew' experience; my first Washington Capital's game; a Super Bowl party; a brunch with friends; a date at Baked & Wired following by a viewing of Peter and the Starcatcher at the Kennedy Center; a field trip to the National Portrait Gallery; catching the Oscar nominated Documentary Shorts at West End Cinema; discovering Nutella hot chocolate during the second (of three) snow day(s) for 2014 (as of March 3); and a weekend with to my parents' home in Northern Virginia. And while each and every one of these events was enjoyable, I was happy to flip the calendar to March and put this particularly cold and difficult month in the past; my self-diagnosed Seasonal Affective Disorder was a beast throughout February.

Last, the upside of the frigid weather is I continued to read book after book; I am unable to put down my current read--A House in the Sky by Amanda Lindhout. This month I finished three more books, placing me at 20% of my reading goal for the year. Better yet, up next: My March goal is to read five books. So weather pending, I should be fairly successful.

An Apple Update Issue

This is a rant. And it might get technical. About a week ago, the messaging feature on my lowly iPhone 4 stopped working. Each time I attempted to text someone, there was no keyboard display to type my message. Rather ingeniously, I came up with a work around. I typed my message into the Google search engine; copied and then pasted into Messages; and hit Send. So you can imagine how long that took to get old? I finally accepted reality and updated my iPhone to iOS 7, five months after it was released.

Prior to updating, I backed up my phone--a precautionary step in the process. The update did its thing. And upon finishing, I was immediately notified that iTunes on my four-and-a-half year old Mac is no longer compatible with my phone. I naturally downloaded this latest--and greatest--version of iTunes. But after downloading, I attempted to install and learned my Mac needed at least OS X 10.6.8 to run iTunes 11.1. From there, I proceeded to do as requested and download OS X 10.6.8. What do you think happened when I tried to install? An alert said I needed at least 10.6 to run this update. I was real good at playing this game until I tracked down 10.6 and learned this convenient upgrade comes at a $19.99 cost.

I pooled my resources for advice. Through research, we learned the latest Mac operating system is 10.9. We also learned to get 10.9, I need to spend $19.99 on 10.6, $19.99 more on 10.7, and equal amounts on both 8 and 9. Further research later unveiled an additional challenge, my "old" laptop is not capable of supporting 10.9. Or running 8 efficiently. It might--at a $19.99--risk be able to handle 7.

So I have reached a cross roads. I could pay to upgrade to 10.6 and happily be able to sync my phone to my iTunes, iCal, etc. on my computer. This is what I will refer to as a temporary fix. I can adjust to living with my phone and computer as separate entities. This is what I will refer to as the likely option. After all, I don't sync the two that frequently. I will need to find another way to back up my phone, namely my contacts. That might be what the cloud is for? Or buy both OS X 10.6 and 10.7, hoping this gets me through this and the next inevitable iPhone update. This is the least likely option.

That is the backstory. Please, indulge my rant. My laptop is four-and-a-half to the day. I was forced to determine the exact age today in the research portion of my update difficulty. I am someone who takes pride in meticulously maintaining my belongings. I therefore feel as though I should be rewarded with product longevity. Most often, this isn't the case; I went through my first three iPods in six years flat. But this time, my Mac has stood the test of time. And because of this, I'm punished faced with a slew of challenges.

I understand Apple wants to make products good enough to hook the customer but not so good that these items never need replacing. Long before today, I decided Apple's line of desktops, laptops, and tablets is not for me. I use my laptop for the most basic of functions. Simply stated, I don't demand luxuries the Mac affords. The Apple look is sleek. But practical? Not so much for me. When this laptop does eventually bite the dust, I will not return to Apple for a replacement.

The latest challenge should not surprise me. History repeats itself. In my immediate family alone, this is the third Apple product update issue. We first had a desktop (and still do) that hasn't been updatable for years. It hit the wall my laptop is near barreling into. These machines, again, are not capable of running the latest--and greatest--updated operating systems... or even the two platforms prior. So we're talking about functioning machines that are unable to maintains their health with updates and therefore render themselves (and the associated capabilities) useless. There was also my brother's iPhone 3, the one he paid all of a dollar for. The features quit working entirely when Apple stopped supporting the operating system his phone was running.  He was ultimately "forced" to invest another dollar in upgrading to the iPhone 4. And, again, after duly updating my phone, I exposed my Mac's inadequacies.

So Apple, why? Why, I ask, if I'm willing to spend the money to continually update my operating system would launching so far ahead of the older machines running older operating systems be smart? I have to believe I'm not alone in feeling as though a machine originally valued a two grand is not worth maintaining in time.  

After investigating, I realize I lost this battle. The fate of my four plus year machine is doom and gloom. I know I have no power to change the beast that is Apple. I do know that voicing my complaints here does me wonders. And hopefully allows another person--if only one--to relate.

The 2014 Budget Crisis

My holiday conversation topics were investment-related. How to. How much. Where. Boyfriend and I left Boston, Massachusetts with a starting point, in addition to a plethora of reading material. While Boyfriend is devouring Bogleheads' Guide to Investing by Michael LeBoeuf... I'm still working up the courage.

I thought a childhood of hoarding money would get me through life. I thought I knew "enough" about saving and budgeting. I thought depositing a large chunk of money into my 401K each paycheck was an accomplishment.

For the past four years, my yearly savings have gone to weddings of childhood, high school, and college friends. This year--without a single wedding on the agenda--I'm planning to save like a grown up.

In order to do so, I sat down and made a real budget. A do-not-spend-more-than-$XXX.XX-on-groceries budget. My budget painted a gloom picture. It will be tough to save even five grand on my meager income. Since that is essentially the cost to lease my car each year, this amount will not go far. This [budget] exercise demonstrated the speed at which my spending habits add up. Not only the save-for-a-big-purchase-and-buy ones but the monthly ones too. The rent. The eating out. The electric payments. The haircuts.
 
From this I have deduced, I am a lifetime behind on education in regards to finances. There should be lessons on budgeting and investing and retirement and saving and topics of those sorts beginning in kindergarten. Because here's the thing: I'm a very frugal person. Or I thought I was until I met Boyfriend. Once he got past buying lunch each day, he became The Cheapest Man Alive. Turns out making purchases on clearance, couponing, eating leftovers, reusing baggies, picking up change on the street, and checking books out at the local library won't make me rich secure a modest future.

Here's the other thing: I have nice taste. I enjoy pedicures. I love J. Crew (on sale). I want all the fanciest kitchen appliances, namely a Vitamix. And with Christmas just behind us, I purchased a Garmin Forerunner 410. Gulp.

(I'm already obsessed with it... though it has yet to arrive.)

So I made my budget. And I made my goal, or dream--to own a home, soon.

But you know what? My credit history is nonexistent despite owning a credit card for eight years and paying it in full every month. And turns out all those bills my roommates had in their names could have been building my credit history. Hindsight.

What else have I learned?

1. Houses are expensive. 
2. They require down payments. 
3. And mortgages. 
4. And getting approved.
5. They also require a place to (permanently) settle.

I must stop writing. I am just so overwhelmed. The end.

Life is tough. Adult life is tougher.

Putting Others Out

I’m sitting here at Gate 63 in the lovely Kansas City International Airport, minutes before an estimated 7:18 pm departure. Boyfriend and my flight was supposed to leave at 2:33 pm, bound for Cleveland, Ohio; then later (at approximately 7:22 pm) on to Boston, Massachusetts. But those are all just minor details. We had a heads-up on the flight delays and were granted some extra time with my childhood best friend forever, M.E.K. My busy itinerary originally only allowed for an early breakfast on Sunday at Panera. Due to our flight situation, we were able to visit both her old and new home, briefly stop by her parents to exchange greetings, play were her puppies—Addy and Mogley, and watch the Kansas City Chiefs lose another depressing game to the Indianapolis Colts.

This visit to Kansas City, Kansas was an in-and-out trip–lovely, quick and very cold. To pull this trip off, to be there for M.K.B.M.’s big (wedding) day—we needed a lot of help. Boyfriend and I needed a ride to Lenexa from the airport; we landed late on Thursday at a not exactly convenient time. Then Friday, we needed a ride to Lawrence… or to borrow a car—both, again, of which would put someone out. The simple solution would have been to rent a car. But I was clearly unprepared. Friday, getting a loaner car and driving to Lawrence, we wandered around the cold, bitter cold Massachusetts Avenue. Saturday, we got ready for the wedding and anticipated the winter storm. A storm that would result in tons of cancellations for the unfazed bride and groom. On departure day—Sunday, we needed to get back to Lenexa… meet M.E.K. for breakfast… return our “rental” car… and get to the airport all before our 2:33 pm flight, with roads in OK-ish conditions. If you ask this I-don’t-know-how-to-drive-in-the-snow-girl, the roads were in poor shape.

But again, we found out early enough that our flights were delayed, and were allowed to relax a little, enjoying our final hours while simultaneously lining up a back-up plan. It is just so terrible. And I'm not dealing with adversity well. Because no part of me wants to be stuck in Cleveland. All I see are dollar signs—hotel rooms, rental cars, dining out. And though I have visited Cleveland before, navigating an unfamiliar city late at night after a long weekend. Plus, I'm so exhausted from putting others out. I was beyond worried about not only needing a ride to MCI but after waiting and waiting and waiting... the possibility of needing another pick-up later this evening, if our flights are ultimately cancelled.

So, here I am, finishing the remainder of this story on Christmas Eve. I also so badly wanted to get to Boston, I had late-night plans with my recently married college roommate, H.C.H… and the thought of missing this girl time was upsetting. And last—what I thought was the final piece of our puzzle, in terms of inconvenience—I now felt as though I was putting Boyfriend’s parents out… because we’re not scheduled to land until 12:05 am. They are much closer to Boston Logan International Airport, then my Lenexa friends are to MCI; regardless, I felt like we’re got this trip off on the wrong foot.

With false promises that our flight out of Cleveland would not be cancelled, we hopped on the 5:55 pm flight (delayed over-and-over again until we officially departed at 7:52 pm). And when we landed in Cleveland, our flight had been delayed until 11:26 pm. But by the time we got off the plane, the last leg of our journey—the flight to Boston was cancelled. I burst into tears. I couldn’t deal. It was admittedly pathetic. Boyfriend jumped into problem-solving mode. And I called my mom for sympathy. Not one of my prouder moments. There were just so many emotions—my first Christmas away from home was looming. After talking to his parents, Boyfriend had us boarding at 10:40 pm flight to Manchester, New Hampshire… minutes after landing in Cleveland. Something seemed so promising about getting that much closer to Boston, lifting my spirits a bit. His parents, with near perfect timing, were waiting for us when we landed in Manchester. I cannot express how grateful I was for them (and everything that had come together through the duration of the weekend) when we landed at midnight.

From there, we drove the 70 miles down South to Boston… and began celebrating Christmas week, luggage-less. Boyfriend called United three or four times, waiting 40 minutes each time to speak to an agent, in hopes of tracking down our bag on Monday. Then, rather randomly, was contacted around 8:30 pm with news that our missing piece was on a plane to Manchester… and would be dropped off in the middle of the night. At 5:18 am this morning, Where Is My Luggage was ringing to let us know our luggage was waiting outside the door. This was after a Monday shopping trip to Kohls, where the lines were 100-people deep, to pick us tide-us-over necessities at United's expense.

So now, my great adventure and story has ended; I wish I could say I enjoyed and relished in the ride. 

Seller Central

I'm somewhere between an old job and a new job. And while I wait for the official promotion, I'm all sorts of miserable. It really makes zero sense. A typical day begins at 8:00 am with breakfast. Then I decide to exercise or shower. And because I have nothing, nothing at all to do, I often opt for skipping both the exercise and shower. I can usually entertain myself with various house chores until about 11:00 am. The rest of the day is a wash. Though as a result of my being here to sweep up each dust particle before it settles, the apartment is cleaner and more organized than it will ever be.

I read about two books a week. I drink way more coffee than necessary to fuel my sedentary day. And I watch a lot of Food Network. I attempt dishes I have no business making in my kitchen--inspired by Pioneer Woman and Ina Garten. I honestly have less interest in cooking and more interest in messing up the kitchen so I have something to clean. Oh and I can tell you nearly every Ellen DeGeneres joke from the past three months; I'm tuned in everyday at 3:00 pm. I also do a lot of clock watching, in anticipation of the 5:00 pm hour, when all my friends are heading out their various office doors home to play with me. This has been a true test of patience.

So clearly in search of things to do, I started a business. A book selling business on Amazon. I'm finally parting ways with all those classics from high school and college. I have to admit I'm a bit distraught about it. I'm a hoarder of all things books... and saying goodbye is tougher than it might seem. But we need the space and I'm not going to read these classics again as I once dreamed, especially considering they weren't fun the first time.

Turns out, I'm a horrible business woman. Boss Man would be ashamed as I've spent the past 18 months developing business. I've sold two books, both at a five cent loss. That puts me a dime in the hole. Plus, I had to make a trip to CVS to purchase brown shipping paper--the cost: $5.70. I bought two rolls to prepare myself for all the selling I would be doing. And because shipping paper was buy one, get one half off. What a steal!

In addition to the change, I've lost quite a bit of time. Listing all my books for purchase took two hours. Then there was the walk to CVS and back. The wrapping the books for shipping. And the walk(s) to the post office. I'm estimating the prepping each book for shipping and journeying to the Post Office comes at an estimated 30 minute cost. I'll spare you from the further exact cent and minute-by-minute details. But do know it's all been a loss, a negative--I'm in the red.

You can now find the classics of my formative years for a premium price--at least twice their worth, though each classic is loaded with nuggets of quality notes embedded (within text)--at Amazon near you.

Stand Up 2 Cancer

Today began rather insignificantly. It's a working Friday, so I assume thoughts of the weekend were floating through my head. In a chain of emails with D.D.M., a coworker and old neighbor, Gabriella Miller came up. Gabriella Miller, another (old) neighbor, was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor last November; at age 10, she's fighting cancer for her life. I hadn't heard the latest. I honestly hadn't followed Gabriella's updates too closely since last December when I participated in the Make A Wish with Gabriella campaign by writing a letter to Santa. Macy's turned these letters into dollars contributed to the Make-A-Wish Foundation.

This is the latest, heartbreaking update from Gabriella's mother:

Mark & I started our day at a cemetery looking for a burial plot for our ten year old daughter. We had to make a decision as to which funeral home we wanted to use. Our day ended with Gabriella asking us if she was going to make it. She wouldn't use the word die. We held her hands & looked her in the eyes & told her that there were no other options to help her. We had to reassure our Sweet G that she was going to be alright. That our love doesn't disappear, it goes with her. Gabriella asked us how much time she had left. With Mark & I sobbing & Gabriella hyperventilating & crying she shoves her lovey - a stuffed animal, Baby Turk from Tarzan - at me & says she wants me to have him. This is her stuffy that always makes her feel better. She wants ME to have it!

Oh, God, I HATE cancer! We, all of us, have failed our children so miserably. It is criminal that our beautiful, innocent children are going through these out-dated & tortuous treatments with such bleak outcomes. No child & parent should have the conversation that we just went through. Devastated beyond words.  

A few months back--late this spring--I fell for Gavin Rupp. Mathias Giordano, Latte Woman's son,  shared Gavin's story with me. Through early summer, I read everything I could about this Northern Virginia Cancer Warrior until the ugly disease took Gavin's life on July 30, 2013. After a three year battle. I never met Gavin and yet he inspired me. And I wasn't the only one he inspired, not even close--he was touted as "a hero" of Bryce Harper's (on his Twitter account) after they met.

And then there is my superstar--Mathias, battling osteosarcoma, and demanding the majority of my heart! Before clicking for a status on Gabriella, I stopped off to read the latest from Team Mathias. I scrolled down to a day-old post from Latte Woman.

Her stark words caught my attention:

I have entered this "cancer club" all my news feeds are cancer related,  families fighting cancer, talking chemo, radiation, clinical trials, hospital stays, surgeries, amputations, relapses, hospice, beautiful kids gaining their wings... 

This is insane. Kids should be kids! Kids should be at school, play sports and just live a carefree life. I want that for Mathias, I want that for Gabriella, I wanted that for Gavin... I want that for all the kids that are fighting. This is not fair. We need a cure and we need it now. What is wrong with our society, why are we "accepting" that childhood cancer is the number one killer of our kids? How are we ok with that and how are we not doing anything to change that NOW.

So now that I'm a sobbing mess, I'm passing some of the responsibility to you. These parent's are right--cancer is unfair; we all need to stand up. These three children of extraordinary qualities come from a first-rate community. But this is not the only community with a story; children everywhere are fighting. And each one of them deserves to be heard, to be rallied behind. 

I personally feel helpless. What can we do to make a difference in the lives of these children? In the life of each child fighting from his or her corner. I spread childhood cancer awareness through Mathias' story each chance I receive. But I can't stop there. 

I know I should do more. We should all do more. I'm consumed by this illness, almost paralyzed--scared. Gabriella and Mathias battle right through their fears. And Gavin battled through his too.  

In November of last year, I hosted a blood drive in honor of Mathias. And while the turnout was a great success, my efforts were thwarted by the Red Cross. There were so many wonderful, willing donors last year. Should we give again--through a better, more organized service--to show we believe there is hope? Because there is hope. A lot of hope. And donating blood helps save lives! Their lives. 

A few weeks back--during the furlough days--I strolled through my parents' neighborhood early one morning with Latte Woman. And while I think about her all the time, despite seeing less and less of her (after moving out of the neighborhood); the time together revived me. She is a wonderful, wonderful being. I can't speak highly enough of her, of the courage she's shown her son. She is an unstoppable force. This woman, my dear friend, spent the majority of our walk listening to my woes and worries when all I intended to do was give her my fullest attention. She wouldn't even speak of herself or Mathias until she heard my story. That's right, my story. I had updates to share, but they were trivial in comparison. I fought through my hard time, and while there are still rough days, I was pulled out of the weeds by my community. It's my turn to give to hers. 

When I realized how insignificantly today began, it made me feel awful. These children do not have--they are not allowed to have--insignificant days. They rise and fight for their lives 24/7. Through agonizing treatments, with reduced strength because of medication, these children are fighting battles we can't fight for them. We can--together--fight for a cure. And we need fight that battle now. These words are woefully insufficient. But at the end of the day, my heart wants more for these children. And I know yours does too.  

Today I Tackled Showering

I was dreading Saturday with all my being. The stress (i.e., my biggest fault) being I don’t deal well with change. I like routine and stability and control and things of those likes. And I follow a pattern, be this pattern good or bad, of creating comfortable situations and habits. In high school, my parents uprooted our family – exchanging a quiet Midwestern upbringing for a bit of southern charm. This moved was hard to accept for a l-o-n-g time. I recovered, went to college, and proceeded (as most probably do) to move every year, twice during my freshman year. Those college moves were slightly easier – from a dorm to an on-campus apartment to an off-campus apartment to a house in the downtown. So though I stood grounded in South Carolina working my way through the rigors of college, my family remained in motion – switching their residence from Georgia to Michigan and eventually to Virginia; I was never certain as to where I might be spending my summers. Following college, I of course opted for a unique ‘next step’ – forming a home in Africa. That, like the high school move, was an adjustment, though this time one chosen by my own doing. In college, Peace Corps, and my young adult life, I never knew where to tell people I was from… Kansas? South Carolina? Or – being family oriented – where my family happened to be located during that particular moment?

So in all this, moving lost a lot of luster. And while if only me, this past move could be considered one of the smaller ones – one apartment in Washington, DC to another, it was compacted by the fact Boyfriend and I were moving in together. Moving two apartments into one and in doing so melding two lives into one; this qualifies as a big change. And while it’s super exciting, it’s also terrifying. 

For this move, I enlisted my parents’ help. This ended up being a wise decision as the four of us worked from 8:00 am to 6:00 pm without stopping, moving belongings from my parents’ home in Northern Virginia and Boyfriend and my apartments into our new space. For 10 hours we piled heavy boxes and bulky furniture from in our new home. After bidding my parents a thankful farewell, Boyfriend and I returned our borrowed UHAUL from which we had unloaded three full loads throughout the day. Then, exhausted – to the point Boyfriend was called out for being so (at the Uhaul drop off) – we headed to Rice Paper, our favorite restaurant, for a celebratory dinner. And not quite ready for what awaited us, I convinced Boyfriend to go for a post-dinner bubble tea. With the sole goal of getting the bed set up, we paved our way through boxes and built a bed-assembly workspace. Boyfriend constructed while I busied myself elsewhere – out of his way. And that was only Saturday. 

The Red Panda on the UHAUL truck made his day. 

I drove out to my parents early the next morning. Rain fell the entire hour cruise as I relished in my silent, clean car. Boyfriend was left to himself with a million unpacked boxes. After the baby shower, I went to “collect forgotten items” (i.e., hang out with Old Roommate). Upon returning home, I was in a less than good mood. Because nothing says happiness like a disheveled home. While away, I had been to my parents’ cozy, puppy-filled home, my parents’ neighbors decorated, candle-lit home, and my old apartment – restocked with the replacement roommate’s belongings – in the early staging of creating her life there. I loved that little apartment – the oversized windows and the balcony over looking the park; it’s been my favorite home to date. I shall not discount Boyfriend’s effort – our place was becoming more livable; I was pleasantly surprised that was possible for when I left, it was as though we just had too much stuff to make this place work. 

(I admit I was disgusted by the amount of “cherish-ables” I’ve accumulated. I can’t blame this on Boyfriend; my junk is doing the cramming.) 

I forced my sour attitude into action, hoping to give my deserving man some relief.

There was some fun amidst all the work - homemade pumpkin seeds.

Monday was a holiday for me, the irony being that I’ve essentially been on holiday since returning from Lesotho; I do not thank you Government Shutdown 2013 – I am about to lose my mind. I celebrated Columbus in style because I feel it’s what Columbus would have wanted. I kid. I occupied my time organizing and unpacking the bathroom, then preceded to make grand progress in the bedroom. I also grocery shopped and prepared a meal we both love – pizza on my new pizza stone(!!!). And if you don’t have a pizza stone and enjoy pizza as much as we do, go ahead and make that purchase. It makes all the difference. It took 45 minutes for the oven to reach 500 degrees but the pizza a.m.a.z.i.n.g. Boyfriend doesn’t see beet, goat cheese, red onion, and spinach pizza as a complete meal so I whipped up a tortellini pasta salad, recipe courtesy of the Barefoot Contessa, to accompany the dish. After working all day for a company that clearly has zero respect for Columbus, Boyfriend further slaved away trying to get cable up and running. To no avail, though we are able to hardwire Internet. So not all was failed.

And today I tackled showering. There is something about showering that makes everything real. I can’t shower in a new place until I’m in the beginning stages of sure. Tuesday, being four days in – ready or not – it was time. The shower did not sell me on this place. No, not even one bit. But Boyfriend claims, it’s gets better with time – he’s taken at least six showers, including two on move-in day. I’ll hold on to the hope he’s given me. So there you have it, 1000 words on my accomplishment – showering. 

Preparation Madness

Memorial Day weekend is and always has been the unofficial start of summer here in the Land of the Free. But, as a working gal, to me, it simply represents three days of solitude FAR away from the office. Boyfriend and I decided this would the perfect weekend for camping. And before I start rambling, let me just say we are about to strike it big with the weather. It has been in the 80s all week, with 86% humidity... until last night when a huge storm came through and cut the nasty Washington, D.C. swamp-like atmosphere. I am very much looking forward to weather in the high 60s all weekend, with no chance of rain. (This would be a totally different story if I had made plans to be poolside for the holiday weekend, of course.)

Life around here has been hectic lately, and somehow, it seems that while we have been preparing (for camping) for at least the past week, there was an awful lot still to get done when I woke this morning. The first trip of the season always seems to be the most work. Is that just me? I had an appointment early this morning, then coordinated with Boss Man to work the remainder of the day from home. This move spared me time to finalize the preparations.

I tend to take on way more than necessary. Today was no exception. This was my initial list:

• 9:00 am podiatrist appointment
• Email J.L.W.
• Email H.J.W. 
• Email M.R.B.
• Email roommates
• Send birthday cards to J.W.M. and M.E.K. 
• Send thank you note to M.R.B.
• Write Grandma and Great Aunt B
• Bake muffins
• Make granola
• Make trail mix
• Pack food; pack bag 
• Return honey to Giant
• Run
• Shower
• Empty dishwasher
• Vacuum

I am a crazy person. I think that has been confirmed. And this instance of crazy means I require my home be cleaned before stepping out for any extended period.

Again, thankfully, I am working from home today. The majority of my list, being entirely unrelated to camping, can wait until Tuesday, but I really do not do well with looming lists of tasks needing my tending to. In my mind, it is a dark, ugly picture with me in the center.

On that note, take a look at this picture of my kitchen around noon today:

You will see chaos. Dark. Ugly. Chaos. While whipping up a batch of blueberry coconut muffins, not C.A.R.'s granola, and assembling a half-hearted batch of trail mix, I noticed the my disturbing surroundings. It was one of those how am I going to get everything done? moments.

With only a couple more business hours remaining on this cool, crisp day-before-long-weekend Friday, I am pleasantly surprised to say things are coming together. Now, my non-camping related items will most all sit until Tuesday, but I am more at ease with everything. The 'must-do' items are crossed off from the list... with time to post a brief (and boring) update.

Have a good Friday and enjoy your Memorial Day weekend.

Earth Day, 2013

Ya’ll –

(Yep, I’m gonna talk to ya’ll like a true Southern 'cause I'm just so excited... and I ain’t got time for (attempted) grammatical preciseness to distract me!)

(I doubt I'll be able to keep up the act, so needn't now to stop your reading.)

Today, April 22, is Earth Day. And I wanted to share some news: I planted a garden (last week). My very first garden. I have been waitin' and waitin' and waitin' to share, but it's Earth Day, so I said to heck with waitin' until I saw the first sign of life; I am posting today, in honor of our dear planet. This will inevitably lead to embarrassment when I report back here in a few weeks that everything including basil, an herb supposedly impossible to screw up, is dead. Even worse will be the pesto infused meals I envisioned—distant dreams at that point. 

This past weekend, I went to the United States Botanic Garden, and even though I'm more into sustanible farming—crops and such—than flowers, I left inspired. So I thought I should inject this relatable tangent. I saw plants from everywhere, even the Mountain Kingdom of Lesotho was represented. 

These flowers were there. And they were pretty. And all spring-y in color. 

There were tons of fancy, unique orchids to be seen. But I was too busy admirin' and smellin' and just plain livin' to bother pullin' out my phone to snap a picture. Lets be real folks... who doesn't like them self an orchid? Atlas orchids. Green dragon orchids. Kaleidoscope orchids. Princess diana orchids.  (Those are just a few of the more memorably-named orchids seen.) 

There were no sunflowers, which was vastly disappointing. Boyfriend exclaimed it was far too early for those. But after traversing through the endangered species, garden court, Hawaii, jungle, plant adaptation, and world desert exhibits... one would have thought there might have been room for Kansas. 

But again, Lesotho. That rocked. And got me thinking. This technically (is and) isn't my first (garden) rodeo. During my stint in Thaba-Tseka, I depended on my (host family’s) garden to bring variety to my diet. You see, while I picked crops from the garden, my host family did all the dirty, labor-intensive work. They terraced. They sowed. They ploughed. They watered. They weeded. If it counts for anything, I learned farming was no joke.

Far from the mountains of Lesotho, in Washington, DC, I find myself without an iota of land. Boyfriend looked into community plots… and oh circa sophomore year of college, I should have foreseen my life here and signed-up for the wait list. And even then, after waitin' and waitin' for eventually ever, I would've been generously allowed to purchase my very own one square yard test-plot. Then I would've had one-year to prove I'm worth the space. Well, you know what, county board, forget you and your community plots; I'm not deterred. I'll (help) keep the farmers in business at the Saturday markets. And I'm gonna grow the best darn herb garden on my balcony—proving my worth to every neighbor and passerby in range.

So to planting. To encouragement. And growing. To something new. And eating. To reducing my carbon footprint. To life. To the nine-mile walk to the Botanic Garden. To inspiration. Happy Earth Day friends. 

Traveling for Work

Dear Pops,

At the close of business hours on Monday, I learned I would be traveling to Norfolk, VA to support a Navy project. My to-date focus at this company has been solely Internal Revenue Service (IRS), so this effort was certainly going to be a challenge. And when you factor in my direct-line at said company--Boss Man, also focuses his efforts entirely on IRS work, I will admit I was nervous.

I am writing you now following my first working vacation. I started Wednesday morning at 5:00 am with a shower and a Starbucks drive-by. Black fuel in hand, I managed to be at the office by 6:00 am for a prompt departure. I traveled the four hours to Naval Station Norfolk with a coworker I have only crossed paths with in the halls of headquarters. The conversation was filled with the long, awkward pauses of two people who have near nothing in common and share a respect for work boundaries.

The work portion of the day may have began later than my typical 8:00 am start, however, I was expected to put in a full eight hours of cube-land grind. As the day progressed, my fried brain could not wait for the clock to strike 6:00 pm; my stomach was crying with pains of hunger by this time. The only things I consumed all day was the apple I packed and a slice of greasy pizza. This, as you know, is a very untypical Wednesday meal plan. Now joined with four additional coworkers, together we traveled 30 minutes to the hotel in downtown Norfolk. The day was not over. I had 15 minutes to change into an outfit less dressy than my business suit and nicer than my usual post-work sweats. I savored this brief period of alone time.

I gathered with the crew in the lobby a little before 7:00 pm. There I grew increasingly aggravated and grouchy--my hunger intensifying--as we waited for the dawdlers. Then, collectively, we decided on Thai food. This was not my first choice for cuisine. My one hang-up being, I had plans for Thai with friends, not coworkers, at Bangkok 54 back in Northern Virginia on Friday. But I am sure you know how that is. At least a decision had been made without too much commotion! Thankfully my dinner was spectacular for an empty restaurant sitting amidst an unpromising downtown.

At 9:00 pm, I was free to return my hotel room, where I was greeted with the pings of several work emails coming through. I was unable to log into my company's VPN on the Naval Station, and I owed one final monthly report to Boss Man. (This would have been handled first thing this morning... had I been sitting back in Chantilly, VA racing through my normal routine.) At least I had Modern Family playing in the background. I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep quickly after; I slept well.

By 6:30 am, I was fully clothed and in the lobby, waiting for my ride to Yorgo for another spectacular meal--bagels. We had breakfast off-site to grab additional emails from the network before going into "lockdown" on the base. I have coworkers making this trip on a regular basis to appreciate for finding this off-the-beaten-path gem. But we were working by 7:10 am... and the day ended around 5:00 pm, at which point I still had the four-hour drive home to Northern Virginia.

Aside from the faces of distant coworkers, a short walk to dinner, and the drive to-and-from the naval base, this is what I saw of Norfolk:

I was taunted knowing Virginia Beach was somewhere in that blue distance.

That was a lot of babbling and pontificating, to convey my sincerest apology. There is nothing remotely close to that feel of vacation when it comes to travel for work. There was no time to plan, not that I do a ton of that prior to travel anyway. There was virtually no time to explore. There was hardly time to pack!

Ever since I was your little girl, I envied all the vacations work took you on. In my heart of hearts, I have always been a traveler. I enjoy finding that fresh perspective travel brings, escaping the ruts of daily life, and discovering new cultures and places. I particularly long for the places that make me appreciate my life. You have been on some "incredible" vacations--Aruba; Berlin, Germany; Cancun, Mexico, to name a few from the previous two years. But after my 39-hour excursion to Norfolk, I have come to realize these dream destinations, among your more mundane trips to Detroit, MI, Minneapolis, MN, San Antonio, TX, and San Francisco, CA, are noting like real vacations. They were longer than average working day, in conference rooms and cubes you are unfamiliar with. They were spending time with people you would rather limit yourself to 40 hours (ha!) a week with. They were simply doing your job.

Before closing, I will thank you for encouraging me to take on challenges and teaching me the importance of team work. Mostly, I want to thank you for instilling in me a solid work ethic. One that does not include "counting" hours and instead giving quality hours until the task is accomplished.

I will no longer be referring to these nights away from the home you built as vacation.

Much thanks and many more apologies!

Love, Sister

Say What?

On Tuesday, I returned from a long weekend trip to Michigan. My grandparents are old… and aging. Tomorrow, Grandpa will be 88. And come the 23rd of September, Grandma will celebrate her 89th year! To give you an idea of what I was up against, I thought I would share a few Grandma-statistics from the early hours of my visit. 

• 10 minutes in she announced a recent death*
• 15 minutes in she told me I was thin**
• 60 minutes in she questioned my relationship with a friend who happens to be a boy***
• 89 minutes in she asked how my wedding planning was coming****
• 132 minutes in she proclaimed I had 23 months until I should be married*****
• 238 minutes in she started a sentence with “Let me tell you which friends of yours I find strange…”******
• 275 minutes in she requested I clarify my “recent” stance on religion.*******
• 300 minutes the berating stopped for the remained of the visit.********

And we all lived happily ever after. The end.*********

*Old people thing?

**This is no compliment. Apparently my weight fluctuates with her mood. Last time, at the exact same weight, I was fat.

***Grandma is convinced J.W.M. is my Prince Charming. The way he selflessly swooped in, putting his Peace Corps efforts on hold, to fly this Princess to the homeland has forever earned him heroic praise. I do my best to beat J.W.M. down in the eyes of my at times delusional Grandma. First off, he is Jewish. And she has photographic evidence. Secondly, he is tatted up with the most meaningless tattoos.

****Particularly fascinating since I am not even entertaining the prospect of a boy in my life right now... or ever.

*****Here is too hoping, Grandma!

******Sorry friends I happen to like a whole bunch, you are all entirely flawed.

*******During which conversation, she interrupted to informed me she used to be proud of me. I must have done something right at one point.

********False.

*********I love my grandma dearly, possibly more so than you adore yours, simply because I am a competitive person. And I feel superior when my love for someone exceeds your love for that equal.

Say Something #30

Headaches are an ongoing 'normal' in this chapter of my story, triggered by a variety of variables. These days I am better able to foresee oncoming headaches and as a result prevent the escalation to full-blown migraine. Tuesday afternoon, this was not the case, a migraine came out of left field and pounded away at my "critical mind" for 36 full hours. At one dramatic point, my entire body went numb... a stark contrast to the seething pain. (Oh... and totally scary!) My "wellness" perspective measures this migraine an average paragraph in length, however, there was no page flipping--I was forced to trudge through this trench. The story continued over the course of two rather unproductive workdays, with a post-work meeting on Tuesday.

As I climbed into bed on Wednesday night, knowing Thursday would bring a brighter day, I touched base with Latte Woman. In a mangled-attempt to simply show I am here, she gracefully relayed an identical message. I wanted to refute her. Stop thinking of me... and my silly headaches crazy woman. My temporary hiccup is nothing but a speed-bump. Invest your energy elsewhere. I cannot quite wrap my head around her--brave, beautiful, caring, fierce, and strong. How does someone with so much on her plate love unconditionally? This woman is in my inner circle for a reason. 

Say Something #14

I awoke to rain lightly tapping the tin awning outside my window. As if I needed a larger challenge to get my sleep deprived self out of bed and to the gym. I persevered through the obstacle, and met a bunch of equally dedicated fools for Release 82 of BodyPump. And, per usual, I had no regrets. That class is brutal.