Work trips are weird

Hello, friends. It's Monday again and the weather around here is summer-nice and very distracting. Work today was the perfect example of willpower.

The weekend was awesome between St. Patrick's day shenanigans, yard work (actually sort of cathartic) and a dinner business meeting at our house between Tim and his independent film associates. I got a mini-sunburn and aside from the continued chance of skin cancer, I LOVE IT. IT HURTS SO GOOD. After months of a mild winter, I'm just drinking up the vitamin D like it's my job.

I returned home Friday after spending most of the week on the East Coast. Newark, NJ was our home base and we made trips into Manhattan, Philadelphia, and Brooklyn, in that order. I learned about East Coast geography (who knew NYC and Philly were that close?) and traffic (actual toll booth dude quote after we asked why we were totally slowed to a stop: "19 lanes merging into 3. Welcome to Staten Island.") The work was good, productive and busy.

I was in such a head space, though. Work trips generally mean that while you are in proximity to local landmarks, you won't have time to experience them. Which is logical, I'm not being paid to sight see... I know, I know. But the other thing bugging me was just that...... argh, I'm young, and real cities make me feel young. While we were taking trains and walking to our meetings, my heart sank because I wasn't part of it all. I wasn't part of the excitement, yeah?

Now, I've made my choices. We all create priorities in our lives, and while I didn't choose Cedar Rapids, I DID choose my job, being near my family, and stability. Cedar Rapids just came as part of the deal. I get that.

I suppose, though, that part of my quarter-life crisis is realizing that I've run out of time (somewhat) to choose a different life. I'm on a path now. I chose it, and I'm living it. Tim and I could still uproot ourselves at some point in 10 years and start again.... but we'll be older. Even more settled into the life we chose. I'm positive we won't be unhappy..... but I think the thing that gets me is, you can't have everything. I can't choose both paths -- city/unknowns/excitement AND stability/family/early career opportunity. And I won't apologize for it.

I was just having a moment, you know?

Coming home did feel great, though. I came downstairs Saturday morning to sunshine, coffee brewing, and breeze sailing through all the open windows in the house. It was comforting. So, I think my moment has passed, at least for the time being. I'm really looking forward to a normal week.... work, working out, dinner, sleep, repeat.

Also, geeking out -- The first Hunger Games movie comes out this weekend AND the new season of MadMen starts. When you don't live in a bustling metropolis (hell, even if you do), these are the simple, mindless pleasures, people.

Is this what it's like?

I'm so whiny lately. I'm sure my husband thinks his wife turned in to a grumpy, arthritic 80-year-old overnight. I'm starting to think that some of this is just what happens when you get older.

I had a cold for what felt like a million days (whine), then decided to sort of jump back into working out (hurts, whine), now hurt my back working out (whine) and my ears never stop popping and I'm convinced I have Menieres disease (hypochondriac, whine).

Pffftttttttttt. Sigh.

I'm pretty sure it's just me projecting stress into my body. And into the house. I'm obsessive-compulsing out. Tim's being such a trooper. Crumbs on the counter (silent whine), dish cloth left in a gross, soggy pile in the bottom of the sink (passive aggressive whine to the husband), couch pillows on the floor (whine to myself), mountain of laundry that seems to regenerate itself  on the floor of the bedroom (whine at the husband). It's good that we don't have little people to care for, or I might spontaneously combust.

Commence retail therapy today. I travel east for work next week and I have to be on my A game. And if not that, at least look like I have an A game. Time to zen out, enjoy the sun and 50-degree weather. It's starting to turn spring around here and I love the changing seasons.

Little things that I enjoyed this week (anti-whine):
Sunny Friday afternoon, enjoying a TGIF beer with Tim, then dinner with my brother and his girlfriend.... and then later at night, Tim saying that he's grateful that we'll get to share simple fun like that for the rest of our lives.
Getting to see the passion and talent of my team at work. Makes all the stress worth it.
Thursday night pasta and horror movie.
Catching whiffs of my new perfume all day and feeling classy because of it, even if I feel like a mess otherwise.
(This hasn't happened yet, but I know it would go on this list) Lazy Sunday afternoon with my mom and sister.

Cheers!

What day is it again?

I'm here.

The weeks have just been flying by, and I can't believe it's almost March.

February month re-cap = WORK, a trip to St. Louis to see my wiggly nephew (he can DANCE), an anniversary weekend trip to Galena, an epic cold, dropping out of Insanity, giving myself food hugs regularly. Oh, and another, shorter haircut. 

March (from what I'm expecting so far) = dinner with out-of-town friends (yeah!), a work trip that will take me to New York City and Philadelphia, more work busy-ness, an impromptu Chicago weekend? And Tim's annual officer ball/dinner in Des Moines. I'll just go ahead and write here that I hope I get back on the fitness bandwagon in the next month. Gosh, I LOVE starting over -- bring on the soreness! YEAH! (I'm faking that.)

I woke up this morning actually relieved that it was Friday. Relieved. I'm not really sure sure where that feeling comes from, other than it's been really busy around here lately. I look forward to some Saturday morning PBS in my robe, house cleaning, hockey outing with my crew (feels like forever since I've seen friends!), and church with my mom on Sunday. Oh, and kicking back with some good food to watch the Oscars. And hey, I felt so good about it being the weekend this morning, that I thought I might try working out tomorrow. Maybe.

I still have the remnants of a plague that's working it's way around my office. Which brings me to last weekend -- our winter wonderland getaway. I'll post pictures -- but the cottage and the surrounding property we stayed in was absolutely beautiful. Stunning. Picturesque. It was .... perfect.

Except, I was COMICALLY sick. I feel like we could make a movie about the last weekend that stars Chevy Chase. I was constantly attending to my nose, couldn't sleep or taste anything, and looked like a mucus monster (I felt like one, anway). Tim and I would get up and go eat these gourmet breakfasts and dinner in a room the size of your living room -- surrounded by other happy bed-and-breakfast-goers -- and I would have to interrupt everyone's romance on the hour, every hour, with an orchestra coming from my nose.

That wouldn't be so bad if not for the nosebleeds. Yes. I have an affliction shared by nerds and coke addicts where, if it's dry or I have a cold, I get nosebleeds. Picture Tim and I walking dreamily between artsy little shops in downtown Galena.... and me with a Kleenex crammed in my face. Awwwwwesome.

I told Tim that this can't be an annual thing for us -- I got comically sunburnt on our romantic Mexican honeymoon last year. I have to break the tradition of being an achy, whiny mess on our trips together! I want a do-over. On both counts.

Seriously, Tim and I think it would be great if we could round up a few friends and head back to Isla Mujeres for a little spring break -- anyone else in for March 2013? Sun, beaches, cheap flights and plentiful booze... and we could share a vacation rental.

Let's go.

I'm running away

For the weekend, anyway. It's time to get out of dodge and clear my head! I'm headed to St. Louis to get some good quality family time with my mom, sister/brother-in-law, and ADORABLE nephew. It'll be the refresh/recharge that I need after the past few, difficult weeks.

But to do that, I have to confront an irrational fear I have: I hate driving, by myself, and especially for long distances. Actually, I don't even like riding long distances.

I'm really not sure where this fear started, but I think it's getting worse the older I get and the more I avoid it (I'm sure my people notice).

A few years back, I got into two, rear-end accidents (one in 2007, one in 2008) that were my fault. But both happened really quickly -- in the time it takes to look at your radio. Since then, I've slowly started to get leerier about following another car too closely, not using a turn signal, or other cars getting up in my biz. Or really any form of irregular driving sends a shot of nor epinephrine up my spine.

The only way I could see my sister this weekend was driving myself there. I need to do it. I won't die on the road. It'll be fine.

hgfhgfhsghs

Here's to confronting fear head on!!!

Can I tell you a secret?

I would love to turn this blog into an even bigger hobby. I think, if I could decide what my angle was, that it would be really fun and make me happy. I love what I do for a living, but outside of my salaried job, this is sort of my medium. My creative instant gratification.

Some ideas:

1.) Focus the blog around food + life, incorporate photography and kill two hobbies with one stone (maybe this is an overdone concept?)
2). Get some collaborators and talk about food, life, and style in our local area. Have a few voices in the blog and dig into the community and arts 'round here (they do exist -- any takers?)
3). Take away any hobby angle and just leave the focus up to life, but likely only from a later-20s, woman point of view (unless I do a he said/she said concept with another, male collaborator).

Any of these concepts would require a new design and some additional organization (read: NOT so much that it becomes part of the stress).

Which way to turn?

Whatever gets you through the day

I'm all.... in my head lately. Like, living in there. Where I am never just focused on one thing. Working + all in my head. Working out, half-heartedly.... because I'm all in my head. Taking a weekend to bake, bake, bake -- because I can do that and also be in my head. Driving + in my head (I KNOW). Trying to have meaningful conversations with people + in my head.

It's exhausting.

I think my driven, competitive sides might actually kill me here. Don't let my copious amounts of TV watching and resistance into responsibility over dogs or children fool you. I'm always thinking. I approach everything like a project. And lately, I have real projects with work that are taking up space.... thus the living in my head.

Here is a simplified version of what my head looks like lately:

"Wow, work has been challenging and I want to make the most out of this weekend. It has to be the best, most relaxing weekend. I better prioritize what that means ahead of time so I don't waste it. Better include some quality time with the husband so we can stay on a trajectory to have a marriage that is better than everyone else's. Wonder if we can fake quality time while we are also recycling cans. The cans are starting to bother me. They are in the kitchen, basement, and garage and we are being swallowed by cans. But can't stress about that because I need the weekend to clear my head. Reading over coffee in the morning would be great, but I better decide if I should keep reading my entertaining books, or read something that might help me get through my work challenges, or in general, read something that will improve me as a person. You're not supposed to stress about what you read on the weekend over coffee. Oh, that's right. Did I pay the cable bill? I think I did, but I better check. The next time I am online, I will check. Remember the work challenges? Let's get back to those......."

And there goes another hour. Please don't think I'm a crazy person. I'm probably just a normal adult trying to juggle things. I'm really bad at meditation though, if you can't guess.

I think it's time for a cleanse. I need to try to give up some of the things that I stress/obsess over so I can better enjoy everything else.

..... and where to start.

Amen, sister

Here is a recent post from another blogger I follow, New Girl on Post. She mostly writes about travel and living abroad, but her post Tuesday was poignant, and something I think we all struggle with.

So, a few disclaimers. I believe in health, moderation (truly, even with my random stash eating and baking blowouts), and enjoying the good things in life. I try and balance exercise when I can, meals with nutrients I need, and indulgences that keep me happy.

But I agree with New Girl's post -- we (I say this as a society, and as a woman) have to stop focusing well-being around size and scale numbers.

My jean size and weight do not signify how I love or am loved. They don't represent how well I do my job or keep the promises I make. Those numbers don't make me beautiful. The numbers don't make a difference in the world. (Sorry for getting a little carried away there, but seriously).

They don't represent my cholesterol levels, blood pressure, or energy during the day, although those are much better metrics for my well-being.

Every woman (and probably a lot of men) knows this scene. We turn around and complain to our cube mate at work that we had a handful of M&M's yesterday and didn't make it to the gym. We worry to our friends that we gained 5 pounds, or we celebrate when we have lost 5 pounds by eating yogurt for lunch. We tell ourselves that we feel fat/look fat/have to start dieting. We obsess over the numbers and put ourselves down. We idolize models whose Photoshopped-figures are truly unattainable.

It's a hard cycle to break. I do it without realizing. Even this week, when we did our weigh in and 2-week fit test for our Insanity challenge, I was discouraged somewhat because my weight stayed the same. Why did I care? Would I really have gone back in time and denied myself the treats I had? Probably not. What I really should have been thinking first was that I had worked out more consecutive days in a row than ever, I was getting stronger, and I had more energy than before. I was recovering faster after working out, and that means my cardiovascular health was improving.

My health was improving.

This is sort of a serious/rambling post, but it means a lot to me. I think we need to start changing the conversation. Certainly I understand how weight/image and health are connected, but why don't we talk more about the risks of weight/image being the first and only priority? What about how happiness is connected to all of it?

I'm a happier person when I'm keeping the balance mentioned above (I want my chocolate, people!). And I want the important people in my life to be healthy and balanced, too. I don't care what size they are. I think they are beautiful. I only care about getting as many healthy years with them as I can.