"Monday."

Today is Monday, that day stereotypically loathed by people and orange cats alike. This Monday happens to mark one week since we moved.

When we first announced we would move to London, we had about 10 weeks before the move. That prompted several pairs of skeptical, raised eyebrows, which admittedly was kind of fun. ("You don't think we can sell all of our things and pack up our lives in 10 weeks? Watch me!")

I noticed another reaction though, once we were under the one-week mark. Once we weren't explaining in numbers of days or weeks, but just answering, "Monday." One word, not several, to describe when our life would change in a big, big way. The physical reaction of the questioner now included the eyes and mouth, sometimes a whole-head movement. Not just the eyebrows anymore!

The same is somewhat true when asked when we had arrived in London. A simple, "Tuesday" (you land a day later traveling from the US to UK) carries a sense of very-recent-ness, versus tomorrow when we can say, "a week ago" or next week when it'll be two weeks. The excitement immediately before and after Aug. 10-11 is something I hope we can recall later. It all did go very quickly, but in hindsight what we accomplished, especially in the week leading up to our departure (with the help of so many people) really was impressive. And unique.

And all of this excitement and amazement around our new digs will eventually dissipate and we'll be left to live typical lives in London. In the coming months we'll slowly realize we've become curmudgeon-y about tube wait times, tired of all the rain and I'm sure some other thing that Londoners complain about.

Until then I'm happy to be amazed and hope to find patience — and to remember that this IS a unique moment in time —while I repeatedly get lost, choose the wrong tube line, and probably get lost a second time.

That's not very Paleo.

A few weeks ago, I ate a LOT of food at Blue Nile Ethiopian Cafe.

And sweet baby Jesus, it was so good. Go there, RIGHTNOW, if you haven't been. Or if you have. Lunch buffet is $8.50.

...why are you still reading this? I said go!

Anyway, Ethiopian food is also Not Very Paleo.

I've caught myself saying that a lot lately.

Mac 'n Cheese with hot dogs & bacon? Not very paleo. (But comforting!)
Lunchable with carrots? Halfway paleo. (But convenient!)
Brownies? You're funny. (Chocolate's paleo, so it counts, right?)
Beer? Nope. Not paleo. (But... Beer!)

My initial reaction is to mentally scold myself.
I can't believe you've caved... again!

Then I give up completely.
I got stung by a bee and can't go to the gym, might as well eat junk, too!

Then I start to justify current actions with previous actions.
Well, I used to eat this way all the time, and I didn't die then, so once or twice is better than every day, right?

Then I got tired of my attitude. And I don't mean tired of my "I-gave-up" attitude. I mean the attitude where I get down on myself for eating deliciousness. You know what? That lentil-and-mushroom thing was FANTASTIC and it made my day better because IT WAS FANTASTIC. AMAZING I SAY!

So that's it. I'm going to try my darndest to be OK with eating things. 

That does not equal a free pass to Cheeseburgerville. I've realized after keeping up with the paleo/clean eating for oh, let's say 75% of the last sixish weeks, that my body really prefers I stick with it. I've had pizza and chips and some whipped cream (not together, gross) and I can tell. I can feel my body talking to me, and I can feel that lethargy that sets in after eating whatever it was.

So. No more feeling guilty for eating something that I love. I just have to eat it less often. Life will hand me plenty of other stress than what I can muster up from eating something that's Not Very Paleo.

I got stung by a bee and it sucks.

Sometimes I regress to acting like a four-year-old. Often when I have a cold. I'm a big baby if my nose is stuffy.

I discovered on Sunday I also regress when I get stung by an insect. I'm assuming a bee, but I don't actually know. I know that IT HURT A LOT. And that my reaction was to repeat "Ow. OW. HELP, OWWWW" while trying to explain why I was freaking out. Then I just closed my eyes, held out my clenched hand and hoped that someone knew how to handle this. (Thanks, Tim for handling that!)

*pout face*

In a month, this week will be a blur. But for now, and for most of this week, I've been wallowing in ouchies and self pity. I got stung on my thumb — right on the tendon, that little jerk — and it has been swollen, itchy and sore for four days. I went to the doctor yesterday and she just said it was normal and I'd have to wait it out. The swelling has gone down a little today, but if I forget to take the antihistamines the itching comes back.

*pout face*

And I haven't gone to crossfit because 80% of the things we do involve pushing, pulling, gripping, swinging... all things that become very difficult if you can't actually hold on to anything. Even walking has been awkward, since leaving my hand at my side made it swell worse. I've been walking with my elbow bent, hand up by my shoulder like I'm looking for the absent towel after washing my hands.

Just....

*pout face.*

Normally I try to pull myself out of these funks. Stop dwelling on what I can't change; be positive; work through it. But frankly...

This. Sucks.

May 30, 2013

So, I'm actually writing this post on June 12. It's basically like time travel (hooray for technology!).

My 27th birthday was almost two weeks ago, and it came and went with very little pomp or circumstance. I've been busy with my new job and several other side projects. I kept forgetting my birthday was this week, or in a few days, or tomorrow, or today!

My new department bought cupcakes for the occasion from Baby Cakes in the River Market. So. Much. Yum. And I wore a cute new outfit, which is always a good day.

And I was also able to spontaneously meet up with friends at Manifesto for a DELICIOUS drink that was made with butternut squash. "Winter in Buenos Aires." Try it. (That's not a request.)

I still have several items to cross off my list. Not so sure I'll make it to see the Northern Lights in the next 36 months, but hopefully I'll be able to make a cake, cook a turkey, SKYDIVE, hang with my niece (and new nephew), and a few other things. I'd better get to it!

One of those moments

Just had one of those "how did I get here?" moments.

One of those moments you hear your parents or aunts and uncles say when you're a kid about how time flies. 

I'm sitting here, realizing that suddenly (seemingly) I have this awesome job and I pretty much got here myself which is something to really be proud of. 

Weird. 

When life gives you a roller coaster...

...you'd better hang on!

Life has this funny, mildly overwhelming way of sending you so many things at once that it's difficult to keep track.

Have you ever felt that way?

What am I asking, of course you have.

(Sidenote, I always tease my husband about how Reddit users will ask, "Am I the only one who... [does/makes whatever]" and the answer is always "NO." We're not alone in this big, inter-connected world. Someone is similar to you, and there are only two ways to wrap Super Nintendo control cords.)

Not the point.

The point is, life gets to you sometimes -- in good and bad ways -- and it's hard to reflect on it. Even when sad or bad things are happening, I try to step back and be grateful for the experience, for the opportunity to learn something. 

I started to cook and eat Paleo ("real," unprocessed food; no dairy, refined sugars, grains, or legumes). I did pretty well for the first week or so, but then I learned how quickly you can fall off any wagon. One little bite here or there and suddenly it's that I'm just "attempting" instead of "committing." Well, somehow I'd bet that won't yield the results I'd been dreaming of, especially considering the past weekend of entertaining guests and today's lunch with new co-workers. BUT. I have a menu and I'd like to stick to it! The food has been 80% delicious and 100% edible. So... fewer excuses to indulge and more voicing my food choices. Yeah.

Britton and I are both also in the process of starting a new job (me) or getting a new role at work (Britton) and we rarely see each other for more than a few hours at a time. We're still adjusting to being married, but we still want to come home to the other and just be together. Super wonderfulness.

Lots of other stuff is going on, too, (hence the roller coaster reference) and I'm happy to discuss if you're happy to listen.

Off to make Paleo pesto and maybe some zucchini pancakes. I like cooking.

Fun fact: "Roller coaster" in Spanish is "montaña rusa" or "Russian Mountain." What imagery!

On death and such

I've realized for most of my adult life how rare it is for someone my age to still have all four grandparents. And I've done my darndest to appreciate that, and experienced the stereotypical guilt that comes from realizing I haven't seen them in several weeks or months. I know that in this aspect of my life I am extremely fortunate.

However, because I am 26 and I haven't experienced any of this before, I feel really lost about it all. My grandpa ... well, when I visit him now I can see that he's the same Grandpa Pat, that he's there on the inside still but he can't always form the right words and he can't walk and it's all happening so fast.

And his heart is breaking.
And my heart is breaking.

And it can't be stopped. Dementia, old age, it's all a slow descent into ... ?

Two months ago he could scuffle around from his chair to the bathroom, he was having an entire conversation with me about where he grew up and the trouble he'd get in with his friends. He was eating Chinese food I had bought for him without much issue other than the occasional dropped cashew, and cashews are impossible to eat with a fork anyway, so who can really blame him for that? Nobody, that's who. Sure he was declining, but he was fine. He was just. fine.

But he wasn't. And he's not. And somewhere I know that that's true. But maybe if I just keep going back to visit, and make a point to let him get his words out, and tell him to try to skootch up in his wheelchair and to be nice to the nurses and to let him feed himself even if it's downright frustrating to let those apples fall off one more time, and figure out when he's doing physical therapy, surely there will be enough love and determination to fix it. To make him better so that we don't have to go through this anymore.

But even if it worked and there was enough love to pull him back and to fix him and to un-break his heart... that's not going to stop Death.

How does one keep living when there's no future to look forward to? What kind of mental shift does one have to go through to somehow be happy or at peace knowing that life from now on is this nursing home bed, and this flickering tv? That it's ending. And how does a loved one watch and participate?

No time to slow down!!

If you have ever had a time in your life when it seems as if EVERYTHING good that could ever happen to you is happening RIGHT NOW, you know how I feel at this moment in my life.

Next weekend...
1. I'm running a 5k and packing
2. Traveling to Springfield for a long weekend - his brother gets married, plus we'll hang out at a wedding shower for Britton's best friend (who gets married in Sept.)
3. Attend my cousin's wedding!
4. MOVE MY WHOLE LIFE in to Britton's loft

THEN, the following weekend...
4. Britton & I get married!
5. My dad debuts as the Mayor in the community theater's "The Music Man"
6. Unpack my life and pack it back into a backpack so that on Sunday we can...
7. Leave for a 3-week honeymoon to Europe!

And all of this happens while I'm also working my full-time job! Who needs a time to breathe anyway?

Progress Report (of sorts...) For #17 - Get caught in the rain...enjoy it!

The weather lately has been especially grey (gray? I can't ever remember...) and it makes me mopey. It reminded me of #17 - Get caught in the rain and instead of getting mad, run around and enjoy it!

However, I've realized two things:

One. I don't like rain. I barely even like being wet. (Swimming not included in this statement.)
Two. It's impossible to plan for this.