The craziness continues ...

Geez, I said I was going to come back to this thing, but I'm determined to make a liar out of myself, I guess. K and I are in our fifth week of marathon training, and I'm shocked how much time it takes up already. Not the running, necessarily, but the extra water drinking and snacking (burning those extra calories takes a toll quickly!) ... the extra peeing ... the extra sleeping ...

We typically run in the morning, and we still try to go to the gym and lift at night. If we miss the gym, it's because we're going to a concert or hanging out with friends -- or packing to go somewhere and see somebody.

We really never stop, I swear!

We actually had a power outage last Friday morning, and we were all able to go home early. Because of that, I was finally able to take care of the house work I'd been neglecting due to all that resting.

And it looks like there's no resting this week. We have the gym tonight, a movie with friends tomorrow, packing on Wednesday, a concert on Thursday, and early Friday we're heading to OK & TX for another wedding. The one where I'm maid of honor. The one where I have to give a speech about my friend marrying a guy I don't like.

I still need to write that thing.

Geez, does it ever stop?

A sign?

K and I will have been married 3 years this September.

Thanks to his deployment and our move to VA last summer (and trips we've taken to visit friends for various reasons), we've still never taken a honeymoon. We resolved to fix that this year.

We planned on visiting Destin/Ft. Walton Beach, FL, which is where we got married. Then, the whole oil spill thing happened. Only, it's supposed to be done now and getting cleaned up, and the trip wouldn't be until late September.

Today, I found a beautiful picture on a photo site. Thought to myself, Wherever that is, that's where we should go on our honeymoon.

And then I saw the title:
"Relaxing in Destin"

I ran 7 miles today; I can do whatever I want!

K and I are doing our first marathon in November. That's right. Twenty-six point one miles.

We're in our second week of training. We're doing Hal Higdon's training plan, which K found and, coincidentally, a marathoner friend of mine recommended.

Today, we ran 7 miles. Not exactly a distance we haven't run before, but a distance we haven't run in a few months. We got a later start than what we'd planned, so leaving around 8 got us out just in time to enjoy a heat index of 100 degrees. Not fun when you're running for 70 minutes (we were just aiming for a 10-minute mile).

We finished. I hated the majority of it.

What I haven't hated? The fact we went for Chick-fil-A, where I ordered the four-piece (three-piece is standard) mini chicken biscuit breakfast. I destroyed it. And then I napped for 45 minutes.

I don't feel the slightest bit guilty or lazy.

And the afternoon plans we have at the beach? They're gonna be incredible.

No matter what we do or don't do for the rest of the day, we totally earned it.

Intermission complete

It's funny how easy it is (for me, anyway) to fall out of blogging. You find yourself in a rut -- I hate my job. I'm on the computer all day; why would I want to log on at home? -- and next thing you know, you've hardly posted in weeks.

This time, I was pretty sure I was done. At least for a while.

But it's funny how things happen to remind you why you started it all in the first place. I've had a couple such reminders in the past couple days.

The first happened when K and I were discussing our upcoming 3rd anniversary. We talked about last year. We remembered we'd opted for something small and simple, with plans of doing something big this year instead. We just couldn't remember what "small and simple" was. "I'll check my blog!" I said.

The second thing that happened was a reminder of a good part of the reason I kept blogging. When I started this whole thing over 4 years ago, it was intended to be a way to record things that were going on in my life. I had been dating K for a few months, and I knew it was going somewhere. I thought it would be fun to have a record of it all, along with my experiences living on my own in Dallas.

What I hadn't realized was that this blog would bring several friends into my life. Friends who knew more details about my everyday life than my everyday friends did. Friends who knew about things I wasn't comfortable actually saying aloud.

Friends in places like New York, California, Florida, Michigan, and D.C. Even friends in Dallas, where it all started.

Tonight, I had the privilege of meeting the very first blogger who ever hooked me. In fact, it was the discovery of her blog that made me think, "Hey, I should do this."

So tonight, when Girl From Florida and I found ourselves in the same area, we knew we had to meet up. She actually joined me for my kettlebell class, which has become one of my favorite and most torturous workouts ever. (I'm totally addicted, and evidently she's got the bug now too!)

Then, she and her family and K and I went for dinner. What an amazing time! The food was delicious, but the conversation was so great that it was hard to care about even remembering to eat. And when it came time to call it a night, it took about a dozen tries to say goodbye before we were able to all get into our cars. I was giddy excited that I'd finally gotten to meet GFF. I can't wait until we can meet up again!

From this blog, I've gotten a nice record of the last several years. But it has been the unexpected parts -- the connections, the support, the friendships -- that have been the best part.

And that's definitely worth keeping this thing up for.

What kickball SHOULD be

Written 6/17. Posted 7/01. Because I took forever to edit (read: majorly trim down) what I originally wrote. Sorry! 

K and I had a kickball game last night (two, actually, but more on that later). One of the guys on the opposing team is quite a character.

Abs spends a lot of time working out. The reason I know this is because he takes off his shirt so many times in the course of a game that it's become a league joke to keep a tally of how many times it happens. As if that's not enough, he also enjoys busting out with random pushups, pullups (on nearby soccer goals), handstands, etc. It's bizarre. It's cocky.

When we played Abs's team, we were both tied for first in our league. Talk about a big game.

We made some mistakes in the first inning. We were a little nervous, and it was obvious. Abs's team capitalized on that, and they were able to score 4 runs. There were 3 questionable calls (2 of which involved refs' conflicting opinions), and all went to Abs's team, since my team takes the classy route and doesn't argue with refs.

Our nerves settled down after that inning. It became very clear that Abs's team was just as nervous about playing us as we were. Possibly even worse. Where missed catches, wild throws or bobbles on my team are met with, "That's OK! Shake it off!", Abs's teammates were more of the "C'mon! You gotta GET THAT!" It was tense. It was intense. It was not fun.

It became clear that Abs's team had actually scouted and studied our lineup. The coach would shout to the entire team, "Justin's kicking! Then Mike! Then Liz!"

They were playing only their 12 best players; the rest of the team sat in plain clothes on the sidelines. We had our entire team of 20 suited up and playing. And every one of us got field time.

Somewhere in the 3rd inning, we realized we weren't going to win this game. When Abs removed his shirt again, one of our girls started yelling and joking about nipples. Our pitcher, who loves kickball and gets pretty nervous about games like this one, was laughing so hard that he actually had to pause for a minute to gather himself before throwing the ball.

It was all downhill from there. We decided all the guys should take their shirts off at the start of the 5th inning. K liked the idea so much that he ripped his shirt off as soon as we told him. Another guy followed.

It was our turn to kick. One of our teammates had a blast with his at-bat. It was clear he was going to get tagged out on first, but for the fun of it, he dove for it. I swear, he flew 3 ft. We were cracking up on the sidelines! To add to the fun, as soon as he jumped up, he ripped his shirt off as he ran back over to us.

It was then that the team decided if we made it to first base, we would take off our shirt.

Fast-forward an inning, and it was my turn to kick. Abs had just dropped into a random set of pushups. My teammates joked that we should each do pushups before we kicked. Sounded like a good idea to me.

I stepped up to home plate. The pitcher and infield players were just settling in to their places again.

I marched right up to the plate. Dropped down to the ground. I set myself into pushup position. 

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

Five pushups. Real pushups -- not chick ones. Just the right amount to get my point across. Just the right amount to deliver confidently, correctly, and without expending any energy I'd need for my next task. 

Far in the background, I heard my teammates screaming. Cheering. Clapping. People were going crazy. 

From the infield, I heard Abs say he could admit when he'd been stood up by a girl--just before I saw him bust out a handstand from the corner of my eye. (Seriously, what is UP with that guy?!)

I vaguely heard and saw all of these things. But I was already focused on my next task at hand: kicking the ball. A task I'd managed to suck at quite a bit this season. I hoped my initial "in your face" display wouldn't be met with a sheepish strikeout. 

The pitcher chunked the first ball at me. It was far left of the plate. 

Ball!

Then another. 

Ball!

"Yes!" I thought. "Maybe he'll walk me." 

But the next pitch went screaming right over homeplate. "Here goes nothing."

I raised my right knee, and the ball connected with the inside of my right foot and headed toward third base. It looked fair, so I took off. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Abs go running for it. 

"Shit! He's going to beat me!" 

He was headed toward first, ready to throw the ball at the baseman. I was determined to beat him. 

I ran as fast as I could. Just before I reached the base, I saw Abs's wild throw get away from the first baseman. I was safe. By a longshot. 

I slammed my foot into first base, and I immediately began celebrating. 

I might have remembered the deal myself, or I might have heard one of my teammates screaming about it from the sidelines. But somehow, as soon as the "reach the base, take off your shirt" rule clicked in my mind, I ripped my shirt over my head as quickly as I could. 

I was screaming and jumping up and down. 

Of all the times to get on base--and of all the ways to do it--this was the best. 

I ignored the wayward ball. 

Like hell was I about to risk getting out by getting cocky with base running. Like hell did I think twice about taking off my shirt. Like hell were we going to get upset about losing a kickball game.

Seriously, my favorite moment of the entire kickball season.

When the game was all said & done, we lost 6-0. But anyone watching us leave the field would never have known. Our team was laughing, smiling, and carrying on. Abs's team walked off little by little, looking more like they'd lost, and asking the coach why they couldn't have more fun like us.

Man, I love kickball

These pictures perfectly capture the mood of the game for both our team and theirs (Note: Our team is in the grayish jerseys [both girls here]; their team is in white [both guys here]).

Wanna know why my shirt is off -- and why I'm so damn excited about it?

Don't worry. I won't leave you hangin' too long.

Before you worry that we were rubbing a big lead in their faces, they were the ones winning. (Doesn't it look opposite?)

Why, yes, I am a badass

I finally had that MRI follow-up appointment yesterday. I am now the owner of TWO hardcore knee braces. They fitted me for one for my right knee too!

The doctor started the appointment by telling me that I have a minor tear in my menial meniscus on my right knee (that means it's on the outside of my knee). Evidently that's pretty uncommon -- most people who tear their meniscus tear it on the inside of their knees. When I asked what could've caused the unusual tear I have, the doctor told me I must have twisted my knee. (I've definitely done that well a couple times.) He said this damage was done some time ago.

Then, he moved the discussion to my left knee. "Have you had a serious injury on your left knee?"

"Yeah, lots of 'em." I gave him a brief rundown of my knee problem history:

In the 6th grade, I injured my right knee. I was wearing hiking boots on carpet (thank you, Jurassic Park!), went to turn, and my knee popped very loudly and gave out. The doctor couldn't figure out what happened, but they found something in my X-ray that made them think I had cancer. My parents forgot to tell me about that part until a good 5 or 6 years later.

When I was in the 9th grade, I fully dislocated my right knee. When that happened, a piece of bone chipped off and lodged in my joint. I had arthroscopic surgery to remove the bone and to repair the cartilage that was damaged. After that, I bounced back and forth on partial knee dislocations. Between the two, I've dislocated my knees a good 6 or 8 times. At least. I kind of lost count. Especially since they managed to happen in such unexciting ways, like while I was wearing my knee brace, sitting on my bed doing math homework (I KNEW math was bad for me!).

I left out the hiking-boots-on-carpet and the knee-in-brace-during-math-homework details when I talked to the doctor, but his face showed more and more disbelief as I explained my colorful knee history.

And then he told me that at some point years ago, I had fractured my left kneecap. I was shocked. I have no idea when that happened.

I instantly felt like a badass.

Luckily, it's managed to heal itself. The doc threw around the a-word ("arthritic") a couple times, but I honestly don't remember which knee he was talking about. (Heck, maybe it was both!)

K had come to the appointment with me, since after my last one, I had trouble remembering what info related to what and what terms the doctor had thrown at me. (Plus, since K was pre-med in college, he's a bit more familiar with the terms, and it's always good to have another person to ask questions and help remember everything the doctor says.) We laughed when we realized that between my bad knees and K's Army-imposed torture, we're both going to be reliant on our future children to push us around in wheelchairs!

The doctor said I'm still cleared to run, though. I just have to be sure to keep my weight down and to train properly. Not a problem (I hope). Everything's fine as is, unless I start having problems with my knees locking or buckling. That happens very rarely, so I'll just make note if and when it does (hopefully doesn't). Until then, my knees will swell from time to time, which isn't anything different, except that now I know specifically why.

The best news: I asked if I have to wear my braces on shorter runs, like 2- and 3-milers. The doctor said no! That shaves a good couple minutes off my pre-run prep time. Plus, those things get hot and uncomfortable to mess with for such a short run. (Not to mention how tough it is to get them off afterwards, since they're designed to stick to your skin to stay in place AND they get sweaty. K has to help me pull them off!) Of course, I'll wear them for longer runs, but for the short distances, it'll be so freeing to not have those on!

Avoiding the knee braces for short runs should definitely help my feelings about running. And the knowledge that I've got at least a few years before I run myself into a wheelchair is pretty comforting too.

Ugh ... men

K was in upstate New York last weekend for a bachelor party. Between having friends visiting, getting the house in order post-visit, and our own traveling, it feels like it's been a good, long while since K and I have had a nice, chill weekend to ourselves. And (in true K & MLIB style) we'll have to wait at least a couple weeks more before that happens.

There was a lot I wanted to do around the house, so I made myself my big to-do list. I did a ton of laundry, and I folded all of it. I washed our guest bedroom duvet cover. I vacuumed almost every inch of floor in the house. I cleaned out the refrigerator (there's ROOM in there now!). I cleaned all the toilets and sinks (I hate cleaning the showers, and since I just did it last week, I decided it could wait a few more days). I washed and ironed our dining room table runner. I even washed my reusable shopping bags!

I felt like such a good wife -- not that scrubbing the house is my job as a wife, but because since I think it's absolutely wonderful to come home to a spotless house, K would surely feel the same.

I had just finished my very last chore and was about to collapse on the couch and relax when K got to the front door. I waited for him to say something about the house.

Nothing.

He had just arrived, though, so I waited patiently. We watched TV for a bit. By then, he had been to the kitchen and all around downstairs, but he had still said nothing.

"Why don't you take your stuff upstairs?" I asked him. That way, he'd have to walk up the freshly vacuumed stairs, down the freshly vacuumed hallway, and into the freshly vacuumed bedroom. He'd notice the bed was made and the sheets were cleaned (they're a different color than when he left), and he'd see the stacks of his laundry that I'd folded.

I went upstairs a few minutes after he did. I started a conversation. He still said nothing about the house. I couldn't wait any longer. "Will you just tell me the house looks awesome?" I threw my hands in the air.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "I cleaned the entire thing this weekend. Can you just acknowledge that it looks good?" (K would want me to tell you that there was an F-word or two dropped in these lines somewhere, but I don't remember where, so I didn't add them here.)

As you can imagine, none of this went over well with K. Instead of telling me it looked great and leaving it at that, he said something along the lines of, "Fine, it looks great. What do you expect from me? I'm tired!" (For the record, there were some F-bombs dropped in those lines, too.) He continued griping about how tired he was, and he finally told me that he didn't even care that the house was clean. That it didn't look any different from how he remembered it looking when he left (he was way off).

"No," I said. "When you left, it was tidy. Now, it's SPOTLESS!"

"Those are YOUR DEFINITIONS!"

He went on and on, and I finally just started laughing at him. I could tell he was tired and cranky. All I had wanted was acknowledgment of my hard work.

I told him I was going to wear the hottest pajamas ever to bed, and he wasn't going to get anything out of it.

"Hot pajamas? Is that even possible?" (I told you he was cranky!)

I rolled my eyes, laughed and left him to finish unpacking. When he was done, he started getting ready for bed. I picked out a soft, sexy nightgown, and I made sure to start getting ready for bed while he was still in the bathroom. He was in bed and asleep before I was done. The guy was too tired to even be tortured. Damn.

Yet again, a reunion that went nothing at all like I had thought it would.

I'll just have to remember from now on that we suck at first nights back. The traveler is always tired and cranky; the non-traveler is always too excited about whatever got done around the house in that time (no matter how big or ... not).

But at least my house is freakin' spotless.

Even if I am the only one who's excited about it!

Help me decorate my living room!

I've been wanting to update the pillows on our couch to mix in some patterns and add some color. I ventured onto Etsy this week, and I found some I really like. In fact, there's one set in particular that I so want to work, but the colors in it don't match the rug ... I like the set so much that I'm worried it's clouding my opinion of whether or not it's an acceptable fit. 

All three pillow sets below are approved by K. There's one set I LOVE, one I'm not crazy about, and one that I'd probably like more if I wasn't so in love with the other set. 

So I'm asking you guys! What do you think? 

This was taken a while ago, but it's pretty much what our living room looks like.

Option 1

Option 2

Option 3

Blurbs. Because I haven't forgotten this thing exists ...

... And because I'm sure you're tired of my random posts complaining about my job.In case you haven't figured it out, I probably won't quit because I like having a paycheck and because I think I have to prove something by toughing it out. And yes, I know that's stupid.

Carrying on now:

I got stung by a bee yesterday on the fleshy part of my big toe. It stung. Whoever came up with that term to describe it chose wisely.

This job is still annoying the holy hell out of me. We had a longtime employee just quit -- effective immediately -- on Monday. She beat me to it. She started in this department two weeks before me (she worked in another area here for like 20 years before that).

K and I planted lilies in our back yard last year. They started blooming a couple weeks ago, and they were beautiful. I'd love to be able to show you a picture of them, but stupid rabbits have eaten all of them.

In other news, the rabbits that run all over our neighborhood are no longer cute to me.

I freaking. love. my kettlebell class. If it weren't for that, I'd probably be in a pretty pissy mood today. This job tends to do that to me.

My kickball team is undefeated. We've tied twice, but we've never lost.

Remember that game when I was named co-MVP? That's the last time I had a good game. I'm buying a kickball to work on my catching and kicking skills. I'm going to beat this thing.

I'm not OK with sucking at things. I think that's part of the reason I don't like this job. Do I beat the sucking, or do I ditch because it makes me cranky for pretty much 50 hours a week? (Note: We only work 37.5.)

K is out of town this weekend. I've made a huge to-do list for myself. It includes an ab class tomorrow morning, going for a run (I haven't run by myself in FOREVER!), getting a manicure, and watching at least one girlie movie. There are some chores on the list too, but I'm more excited about these parts for obvious reasons.

I'm also excited about the rabbit repellent I'll be buying and immediately spraying on my lilies.

Man I love Fridays.

Daily questions

How do you know when it's OK to say that it's not the right fit without feeling like a quitter?

How do you justify leaving when so many don't have jobs? Would it be so bad to tough it out for a year?

Is it worth the money?

How do these people think I'm a writer? Will they realize I'm not one and fire me?

How am I supposed to juggle everything they want me to do?

Are they paying me enough for all of these tasks?

When will these huge knots in my back disappear?

Just when I think you can't get any dumber ...

K just pinged me on my phone. He's 10 minutes away from my office (which means he's now about 40 minutes from his).

Evidently this was a planned surprise. Tomorrow marks 5 years from the day we met, so he wanted to do something special. Since he has a meeting or something tomorrow, he asked for an extended lunch today so he could surprise me with one of my favorite places for lunch!

Does that man know how to redeem himself, or what?!

Feeling annoyed

I got home from ER's shower tonight. It was a good, busy weekend, and I'll post about it later.

I had talked to K at around 5 today. When I asked if he was going to the gym or anything, he told me he planned on staying at the house to get some things done.

"Like what?" I asked.


"Just ... stuff."

So this means that in my last 3 hours of traveling, I had PLENTY of time to consider what "just stuff" could mean:

• Maybe he's mowing the yard, since we have 5 people coming to stay with us this weekend.
• Maybe he's hanging pictures in our room, since he moved the bed for me while I was gone -- something I'd been wanting done for a long time now. (I ruled the picture hanging out, since he doesn't know what I want to go in the frames, and he's smart enough to leave that to me!)
• Maybe he's going to buy flowers. Our I Do, Part 2 anniversary was Sunday, and he texted me AND put something about it in his Facebook status. And since he sent me flowers for Military Spouse Appreciation Day last year but didn't get me flowers this year, and since he didn't get them for me for Valentine's Day (which we boycotted, so I told him not to) OR for our first G Day, maybe he was getting them. I was sure of it, in fact. 

I was only gone 3 days, but I missed K and was really excited to see him. My monthly visitor was here when I left, so I was looking forward to some one-on-one time with K. 

When I got home, though, I found the dining room table cluttered with stacks of shit. I had ordered a couple packages the week before last, and they finally showed up in my absence. There were magazines and junk mail for me to go through. The way K stacks mail, he has to have it aligned in a perfect grid. It's nice and all, I guess, but I hate not being able to see my table under 19 stacks of papers, whether they're aligned or not. 

I immediately started going through everything in an effort to make the table look decent again. 

I went upstairs and saw the bed for the first time. I still can't believe K moved it on his own, but it's clear the boy doesn't quite know what he's doing with decorating. He had the window partially blocked with my night stand. We'll have to fix that soon. 

I studied the room, not sure if I liked the way it was looking now. K wasn't happy about that. I realized he'd vacuumed the floor. I asked if that's what he did after work before picking me up. It was. 

I'm glad he vacuumed. I appreciate it. But at the same time, that's it?! Vacuuming takes no time at all. And if you move furniture around in a room, vacuuming is on the list of things you HAVE to do when you're done. 

The bathroom countertop looked disgusting, and while K is gone, I always clean it, since he's got all of his toiletries with him and it's less stuff to move and clean under. 

The living room wasn't quite put together. It wasn't messy, but it wasn't tidied up. I KNOW vacuuming doesn't take that long upstairs. 

And there definitely weren't any flowers. 

Not to mention the fact that barely a minute after I got in the car, K was telling me about how he'd had an upset stomach the last two days. Nothing like not seeing your husband for 3 days, only to have him tell you about how much he shit while you were gone. 

Or having to throw out a super-ripe banana from the fruit bowl. How did he miss that?

I feel bad for thinking these things. K isn't my maid, so just because I'm gone doesn't mean he has to do all these things. HOWEVER, I've certainly done them constantly for him, so why can't he pick up the slack for once? 

But he vacuumed, and he is helpful. He moved our ginormous, unbelievably heavy bed BY HIMSELF because I've been wanting it done for a few months now.

I hate these internal battles.

I'm tired, and I'd like to be in bed, but I can't relax because I can only think about how much shit I have left to do around the house after being gone for this baby shower. 

Five people will be staying here this weekend, and one is arriving Thursday. That means I have tomorrow to clean everything, since Wednesday is kickball. 

And I realized I hate my job. I don't want to go back to work. All the ridiculous drama and childishness is really not worth it. If I didn't have work, I could clean the house with no problem. Except I wouldn't have my own paycheck.

Bummer. 

Can I go back to Texas again?

There's a sucker born every minute. This one was born almost 27 years ago.

ER's baby shower is this weekend. I'm flying back to Dallas for it. That's costing me almost $250.

I feel bad that I'm not there to help in all this time, so I've offered to do whatever I can from afar. I volunteered to do the invitations. I designed them, and I ordered (and had rush-delivered) 50 pale yellow envelopes so I could get them sent out in plenty of time. I printed them out, wasted a bunch of envelopes, bought postage, and mailed them. All in all, that probably cost me just under $45 (actually, there was an extra $30 if you add in the envelopes I originally ordered that arrived in a shocking shade of highlighter yellow).

So I'm at about $300 (without the oops envelopes). Then you add in the $50 I contributed with two other girls for a stroller or car seat or who knows what.

And there's the $60 I spent entirely on my own at H&M because they have adorable baby clothes that are so cheap it's hard NOT to buy them. That's my own fault, but it adds into the cost. And so does the $7 ridiculously adorable headband I ordered from Etsy.

Seriously, is this not one of the most adorable damn things you've ever seen?!!! I'm not even kidding, I was THISCLOSE to ordering two just to hang onto one for the next 10 years until K and I have kids of our own (please, oh please, let us have a little girl with springy brown curls!).

Now we're talking about the final preparations this weekend. I recommended some games. ER's sister found some game where everyone paints a onesie. I've offered a couple times more to do anything I can to help. ER's sister suggested I go to Wal-Mart to buy plain white onesies. They're $10 for a 5-pack. We need 30.

That means I'll be spending $60 on onesies we'll be virtually destroying.

Which brings my grand total for this shower to $480. Which is effing ridiculous. Especially since it doesn't include the money I won't be making for taking Monday off (without pay, since I haven't accrued a day of vacation yet) when I travel back, since the shower is on Sunday afternoon.

ER's sister has mentioned that I could help on the day of the shower by going to a florist to pick up some flowers she's ordered. I don't know if that means I'll have to pay for those as well.

I know that I chose to fly to the shower. I'm excited about it. I know that I chose to go in on a gift with two other girls. I know I chose to spend $70 on adorable things I found for the baby.

I don't remember if I volunteered to co-host the shower, but as far as I'm concerned, that was never a question. ER is my best friend. She was my maid of honor.

I'm not sure how we'll handle things at the end -- if the four of us hosting (ER's sister, me, ER's friend from San Diego who is NOT flying in for the shower, and a college friend who randomly volunteered to help) will tally up the shower costs and divide them among the four of us, or if everything will go unmentioned and we'll just suck it up individually. I'm definitely too much of a sucker to say anything about it.

I guess it's a good thing I have my own job now. I definitely know where this paycheck is going.

Cuttin' it kinda close ...

All right, let's say that -- hypothetically -- your best friend had a birthday a couple weeks ago. You're seeing her this weekend for the first time in months, and she'll be having her first baby in less than two months.

Since it's her last birthday before babies, I'd like to do something special for her. Any great almost-a-mommy gift ideas?

Bring on the guests!

This is our first week to have the house to ourselves in a month! 

We had a friend (and his unbelievably, patience-testing, neurotic dog) stay with us for about two-and-a-half weeks. Then, my stepsisters came to visit us last Monday through Saturday. The girls were actually our first non-East Coast visitors! 

I know things are tough and money is tight for pretty much everyone right now, but we've had so many friends say to us, "We're going to come visit you for [spring break/our anniversary/our vacation]." I know that just because people say that doesn't mean they're coming, but when they start asking me about airports and average temperatures, I think, Well, I guess they are coming!

But the girls were the first ones to follow through. When it feels like we're constantly traveling to see everyone else, it was nice to get to play tour guide to some of our friends!

The girls had a great trip, and my mom said they can't stop talking about how fun it was. Unfortunately, K and I had to work the whole week, but we were able to spend evenings with them. I got to have lunch with them and show them around the area I work.

So fun! They were wonderful visitors. Maybe their tales of their fantastic trip will inspire a couple more to come our way!

A brighter day

I guess I'm just going to have a love-hate relationship with this job.

Monday, just like the entire week before it, was ridiculously stressful. And frustrating. When I got off work, I called K and vented to him, as I'd done the entire week before it, about the same topics I'd vented about the entire week before. He finally told me he couldn't take it anymore, that I should talk to my boss about it or put in my two weeks' notice.

And then Tuesday was better. It had its frustrating moments, but the ridiculous feeling of pressure and stress was noticeably gone. I even managed to be very productive! Today has been the same. I like my job today.

I'm getting more comfortable being honest about all of this to my coworkers -- even my boss. They're not surprised. I guess we're all in the same boat.

See, pretty much everything we do requires input and information from other people who are oftentimes too busy to give us that info in a timely or complete manner. So we're left scrambling, clawing, digging -- babysitting, even -- and stressed.

Many nights, by the time I get home, the last thing I want to see is my computer, which is partly to blame for my absence lately. (The other part is the fact we've had visitors the last 3 weeks. I'd like to keep my blog private, and they've all been using my computer.)

All this time, I thought it was just me. That if I told my coworkers I was frustrated, they'd think I couldn't handle the job. So not the case.

What a relief!

I'm overwhelmed

Why is that so hard to say?

OVERWHELMED.

Ugh.

It's a good question

Will I last here?

I'm starting to wonder.

At this point, I'm also not sure if I care.

Thank you, Thumper!

You know Thumper's famous advice: "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all"? (That's a double negative, but it's his exact quote, and you know what I mean. Also, shit! I've kind of broken the rule already.)

That's why I've been a bit silent lately. That and the fact I've been incredibly busy. We were gone all weekend (pleasant post about that later), and once we got back Sunday night, I was so busy with getting dinner ready, unpacking, and doing laundry that I didn't even get on my computer. I didn't touch it last night either.

K and I are getting into running again right now, which is turning out to be pretty unfun. It's been several weeks since I had an enjoyable run. That run was the 7-miles K and I did around our neighborhood. It's the one my knee swelled after, and the swelling only got worse after the 10-miler. Although I haven't had the swelling problem (knock on wood) since then, I've still hated every step of every single run we've done since*. My MRI is this week. Maybe after I meet with my doctor for the post-MRI followup, I'll feel better about running.

We've had a house guest the last two weeks, so that's kept me from the computer. He leaves this weekend.

But the biggest thing in my life right now is that new activity that takes up about 40 hours of my week. I'll go with Thumper on this one, too.


*Except for last Saturday, which wasn't really a run. Maybe that was the trick. But again, more on that later. :)