I am so dizzy this morning. Last night I could have fainted.
I experienced my first food dream. Of course, it was nachos. Thousands of them. And every dip you could imagine. Melted cheese, salsa, guacamole. There were dips hanging from the walls and entire tables made of cheese. It was a glorious dream and something I hope to realize in my own life.
Big breakfast this morning since I can only attribute the dizziness to starvation. I’ve been eating just as much as every other day. Maybe I didn’t consider the burn of my workout during portion selection?
Eggs over medium, ground ginger chicken, sweet potato toast, and avocado. And a little smurf spectator hoping for a chunk of something to fall off my plate.
Monday’s are usually my power day. I set up at my desk and check out my Rolling 9 list of things to do, and I do them. It’s my chance to have a big four hours that set me up for the rest of the week. But lately I’ve been fighting myself over every simple decision. Do I really want to be doing this right now? I’m not sure where this question comes from, likely having too much “freedom”. Since I work for myself and make my own schedule I’d say I spend just as much time critiquing my time management skills and self-motivation as I do actually working. There is a sweet spot between freedom and requirement. There is also the theory that freedom only truly exists when you have no choice. Ignorance is bliss or something like that.
In other news, I forgot to brush my teeth yesterday. Not yesterday morning or yesterday night, just, yesterday.
I think when I run for city council in eight years with the help of Ben I will have to use most of my campaign funds to hire someone to go through all my old blogs and red flag any that might come back to hurt me. I don’t personally think there will be any as I am happy to own and explain every single moment of my life. I am living a life after all. And part of that means making mistakes and having strong opinions. I’d trust me and all my swearing and absolutes over someone with a squeaky-clean background.
There are a couple articles, though, that might put me in some hot water. The one about hookers, for instance. It was a harmless entry in the 500 Words A Day writing experiment I launched years ago. One thing led to another and it got picked up on Twitter by the hooker community. Excuse me, sex worker community. That was one of the big lessons I learned after being grilled by prostitutes for the better part of a week – they refer to themselves as sex workers. Another huge mistake I made was assuming they were all ridden with STDs. Apparently, they are not because they undergo tests weekly and never have sex without a condom. Lesson two. And the biggest offense I made was not acknowledging them as compassionate people that are offering a service to those that might not be able to have sex on a regular basis. One women told me about the amount of disabled people she transacts with and that, without her, they would never get touched.
You make your own judgments. Needless to say, this one might have to come down. Or fuck it, maybe not. I hate the thought of censorship and the sex worker population can’t be high enough to swing an election, can it?
A is off to the grocery store. That’s how she spends her Big Monday. She says she worries sometimes when she’s shopping that I’m going to be mad about how much this whole thing costs. I assure that we are spending less money in the long run.
Although, we did just sign up for this meal plan and grocery list subscription through Nom Nom Paleo. I actually think it was money well spent. And genius on that person’s part.
On the way, she will drop off some more of the wedding thank you cards. What an endeavor that whole thing is. We got married in October. This is the second of probably four rounds of writing and mailing cards.
Pretty amazing night though. We made a movie about how we met instead of having a whole big ordeal and a bunch of people that don’t really know each other or how the two people getting married even met.
I do warn you that if you watch this you might laugh or cry or both. My mom was hysterical crying behind me the whole time 🙂
I’m not saying we’re the greatest couple of all time or anything but we did have a hell of a meaningful night and this video was the piece that got everyone feeling warm and connected.
Still working. Alexis just called to give me the five minute warning. I should start cutting up the chicken and then head down to help her unload groceries. Or I can have Woody do both.
In your opinion, does salt count as a food? Not salty food, but just actual grains of salt. Maybe a snack at least?
With all the animosity going around the globe right now Alexis and I realized there isn’t a lot of representation for refugee produce. We decided to set up a bit of a camp for fruits and veggies that feel like they have no place else to go. In our minds, a place where an onion can interact freely with an apple without fear of judgment. I think it’s the little actions of individuals that will turn things around.
Anyway, lunch was good. Salad with left over pulled rotisserie. I threw some blueberries, cashews, and avocado on mine. Olive oil and salt for dressing.
Alexis had to head out quickly to this new form of therapy she is trying called EMDR. It was brought to my attention by a FB friend so I passed it along to her. It supposedly helps a lot with people who’ve had some trauma in their childhood. It seems interesting to us because of the level of potential science behind it. A lot of therapists offer conflicting advice on how to process certain difficult emotions and this feels less subjective. I am curious about anything that claims to work with the plasticity of the brain – the fact that our brain constantly rewires itself to perform regular tasks with great success and efficiency. The implications that could have on rewiring traumatic events and removing the negative physical association is both nerdy and exciting.
I’m mostly left handed. I write with my left hand. I bat left handed. But I box, throw, and kick with my right. So I guess I’m mixed. An ambi. Which means my brain is naturally more cross-wired than 90% of people on Earth. I’m not bragging, these are just facts. Not even alternative facts. It’s like having two personalities always fighting each other. Fun, right? I am both incredibly rigid and completely opposed to structure at the same time. When I put on my shoes I put my right one on with a right hand pull on the heel. I switch my hand orientation for the left one and use my left hand to pull the heel. I’ve been doing this every day for two years. Two years ago I could barely pull with my left, it felt so awkward. Now, I’m not certain which one is more natural. This might not seem like a big deal to some of you but to me this is the realization of an entirely new world. I started writing and drawing with my right hand to see how far I could take it. After about three minutes it felt like there was a warm gel swishing around inside my skull. The sensation trickled all the way down to my lower back. As if I could feel my brain firing.
Okay, my farts smell like broccoli. Which is weird because I haven’t eaten any. I just farted and it gave me a craving for soup. What is happening?
I’m trying to get the house in order while Alexis is gone. I made the bed.
Cleaned up some toys.
Folded the clothes and put them away.
She is working a couple hours tonight too so that seems like a good opportunity to make dinner for her. If only we could always be the people we wanted to be.
Sometimes when Alexis cooks some stuff burns in the oven or the toaster oven. I get upset in my head and wonder why she would let something burn like that. I was just heating up some chicken in the toaster oven and it started to burn. That’s why she would let something like that happen, because it just happens. And until I acknowledge that it happens to me too, that it is inevitable and not specific to my partner, I will continue to harbor things in my brain that simply are not true. I often stand offended by things I probably do myself. The person on the freeway going 45, the guy at the gym using three pieces of equipment at once, the person casually texting at their knee below the steering wheel. I have gotten upset with all of these people. And I have been all of these people.
I cannot explain it other than anger must be 90% related to the self and 10% created by external circumstances. Would you be mad if someone cut you in line if you were standing next to the love of your life for the first time in three months?
Alexis just called.
“Hello, who is this?” I asked.
“Hello. I am Alexis. I am your wife,” in robot voice.
“So the therapy worked?”
According to this woman, slow digestion is linked to being in a constant state of fight or flight. When you are engaged in that manner it is impossible for the digestive system to function properly. Key note – this is regardless of diet.
Ah ha! Just got off the phone with my accountant. I did file a Final Return in 2011. Those bastards are trying to screw me, per ushe. I am going to send them a picture of my dick now in a letter entitled, “Please enjoy my form of payment.”
They send these letters and people just pay up because they are scared. I’ve heard so many stories of people contesting the bills only to have the IRS or the FTB says, “Whoops. Yeah, looks like a clerical error on our part.” And somehow there is no punishment for them.
Me and the Woodson walked Alexis to work.
With all this rain and wind there have been so many fallen branches. His pile is outgrowing our house. There is a trail of tiny tree bark scraps from the bottom of the stairs straight into our bed.
My rain walking outfit is amazing. Leather mid-top Frye boots, lululemon sweats tapered at the ankles, a baggy knit sweater, and a long black trench coat. I’m the whitest girl this neighborhood has ever seen.
The owner of the restaurant we shot the commercial for just reached out and wants to talk about future projects. Booyaa!
I talked myself out of going to the gym. I have to revamp our website and I have a boxing lesson in the AM anyway. In my mind I’m saying I’ll do an extensive yoga practice tonight but in reality we just started season 5 of Breaking Bad last night.
A giant, 18 inch continuous log just came out of my butt.
Ah Christ, there are a lot of steps on this recipe. And it’s just for sauce.
I’m texting her.
“Where are the dates?”
“The sauce recipe is in the book babe. I marked it.”
“Oh. The peanut sauce one was on the stove.”
I’m off to a good start.
Upon closer inspection, there was a note in the Whole30 book. All the ingredients are already out. The garlic clove is even peeled. She prepares for me like you would, ah never mind, it’s not even cool to make the kind of joke I was about to make. #2017.
I mean, I mostly dominated the sauce.
Now I’m going to take Woody for a walk and come back and help with dinner. I know you’re thinking, But you said you were going to make dinner… and to that I tell you Alexis asked if I would rather make the sauce or the chicken and I said sauce because raw chicken is more disturbing than accidentally seeing your friends’ infant daughter’s vagina when you aren’t yet a parent yourself.
A whole sink full of dishes from the sauce alone. I had to use three different spoons. Love the learning curve though. Next time I won’t put the sunflower butter in the bowl first. Shit sticks to the sides of everything.
I put on my North Face subzero rated parka. It’s 52 degrees. Hold your judgments. I have twenty years of Michigan winters under my belt, thank you very much. I have been waiting for an excuse to wear this thing. Hasn’t been since my trip to Boston two years ago for Snowmaggedon. It performed beautifully if you’re curious.
I’m sweating through my ass crack.
But I looked weather-prepared. Lots of people in their Chargers hoodies acting like they’re not cold.
I will admit though, I didn’t pick up his poop on this walk. Before you have a shit storm just please listen. I always pick it up. I’m psycho about it. We have a box of 9,000 poop bags from Amazon in our kitchen. But there’s this one yard that is just not up to neighborhood standards. They don’t mow their lawn, the exterior is rotting, and the blinds are always down. It really bothers me because it could be a beautiful house. So when Woody poops there, and he’s done so in some tall grass, I just leave it. Is it noble? No.
Dinner came and went. An hour of prepping and cooking, three minutes of eating, and twenty minutes of clean up. A grand endeavor indeed.
I made a donation to a friend’s thing tonight. She’s a really good person and wanting to do a lot of good for her students in class. I made the donation anonymously because I didn’t want it to be shared all over FB and I thought I was big enough to not need credit. But after I realized that she wouldn’t even see who it was from I had great remorse. I mean, I wanted at least a little acknowledgement for caring about good stuff and good people. Now if I message her and say I was the anonymous one I look like an even bigger tool than if I just put my GD name to begin with. What a mess I’ve made.
In other news, Woody has discovered his handsomeness. And mirrors. And more often than not you will find him sitting in front of the mirror, staring at himself. Just sitting there. Sometimes for up to ten minutes.
*Photos were taken at three separate times throughout the evening.