Friday, January 31, 2014


• The strangest thing happened at the end of last year. My yoga studio people named me yogi of the year. What the what? It’s a distinction I’m sure I don’t deserve but am nonetheless honored to receive. It means a lot for these favorite folks to think favorably of me. However, because I’m not just a little stitious but superstitious, stuff like this freaks me out some. I worry that if I’m designated yogi of the year my yoga practice will suddenly fall to ruin. So I tried to counteract that by kicking off 2014 with 31 classes in January’s 31 days. Even though it's meant doing eight doubles (which doesn’t sound as many as it feels), I’m gonna end up making it. Cameron's music class tomorrow night will be the perfect way to tie a sweaty bow on this mini challenge.

I’m often asked about Jim’s practice. Is he still going to yoga? The answer’s yes. With or without me. I don’t want my boyfriend coming to yoga just because I like to be there. I want him to get all the benefits he can, so he’s got to have his own reasons for showing up. Apparently he’s got ‘em, ‘cause the man took advantage of a bargain and bought 50 classes.

• A journal finally said yes. It only took a bazillion rejection letters. Hippocampus Magazine’s gonna publish my essay “Lady Business” in their April issue. So with that sliver of hope, I have decided that today is not the day to throw in the towel.

Right now I’m up to date on logging my calls on doctors.  !!!  That’s a major area of opportunity for me. On a daily basis I log the calls where I've had to get a signature for samples, but for the no-sig calls? Well, it hasn’t been uncommon for me to get days and days and maybe weeks behind. Then the calls pile up. And I dread logging them. And I put it off. And therefore more piling up. But I'm on it now. I told my boss that I’m going to turn over a new leaf, and for the last two weeks I haven’t missed logging all my calls on the day I made them. It’s not like logging calls is hard or takes time. Each one takes under 30 seconds, and I log them on my iPad. I don’t know where my defect is with this, but I’m fixing it. 

• I did an online grocery order for the first time in a month and a half. Single living has its benefits, and one is that I get to eat stupid, but sometimes I look around my kitchen and have to say, “Megan, you’re 31 years old. It’s time to take a break from living off of applesauce, pretzels, and Nutella.” I tried meal planning. I failed. So now I’m aiming low and just adding string cheese, strawberries, cucumbers, and frozen pizza into the mix.

• I can’t stop using the Oxford comma. I love it too much.

• Last night I went to a basketball game. Yeah, you heard right. Me. College ball. It happened. Jim’s oldest daughter Katelynn and her husband Nathaniel asked us along to the UNR game last night. I got into watching the game and learned some of the rules. UNR won. (I think. I don’t actually remember.) I enjoy Katelynn and Nathaniel. They’re smart-funny. Katelynn’s extra-dry humor tends to scare the hell out of me, but I’m working through it.

• All four of Jim’s kids are pretty rad. (Duh, else I wouldn’t be dating him.) It’s interesting to be involved with a family where the kids’ personalities are developed. I prefer it this way. While kids aren’t my thing to begin with, baby-age kids really aren’t my thing. I don’t know how to interact with them. I start to develop relationships with my nieces and nephews when I can have conversations with them. Before that, I’m at a total loss. Jim’s kids are 7, 12, 19, and 22 (and is Nathaniel 25? I’m not certain there, but he needs to be included on the list, because Jim considers Nathaniel one of his own), so I don’t have to wait around until I can figure out how to interact with them. The 7-year-old is a snuggler and has a flair for art. The 12-year-old's got a knack for humor and when you combine that with her smarts, you get a wit beyond her age that’s seriously engaging. The 19-year-old is his father. He’s a hard worker, funny, frank, inappropriate, ambitious, and liked by everyone. The 22-year-old is sweet and cerebral. Her husband is kind and committed to family. And Jim and I love watching how those two support, tease, and love each other.

• I need a haircut so badly that I think every day about texting Hannah and begging her to fit me in. But my appointment is early next week, so it’s not necessary. My bangs are in my eyes and my ends are split. That hasn’t happened in years. And while I’m liking my longer hair, it way sucks in sweaty, sweaty yoga. I’ve got lots of hair and apparently triple the amount of sweat glands on my head that everyone else has, so I have to ring out my locks a few times during every class.

• Tonight sister Whit texted me to say that she saw the Wayfair commercial with my art in it. What a swell way to end the day.

• Hopefully this little blog purge will lead to sleep. My mind is too active, and it usually doesn't let me sleep well. I wish spinning thoughts burned lots of calories. Then I could eat Swedish Fish all day long.

1 comment:

D. T. said...

Your blog post came up in a Google Alert for Hippocampus, and your words here make what we do worth it! We get so much joy from publishing emerging writers, and we're happy Hippocampus will be home to the first of your many published pieces. -Donna T