High

Happy Halloween!

Man, how awesome was trick-or-treating?

Sigh.

Reason #321 Why It Sucks To Grow Up:

You have to buy your own candy.

Thumbs down.

But on a completely seperate note:

Can you feel it?

(cue "Eye of the Tiger")

Rising up,
Back on the street....

You know what time it is, bitches?

It's marathon time!!!!!!!!!!!

At 8am on Saturday morning, I will be acting a fool by running my own personal marathon along the brisk shores of Lake Michigan.

Rumor has it that Baby Nolan and his donuts might make an appearance - powdered sugar all over his Whoville mug - and perhaps I may see some car cushions or lawn chairs bobbing along the shores.

Ahh, ain't nothing like the lake in fall!

I have a really good feeling about this race this year - now, don't quote me on this, but I think (gasp!) I might be able to pull out a win this year.

I know, I know!

But hey, when you dream big, you can acheive anything!

Go big or go home, right?

I mean, sure, I'm the only peson in the race.

And sure, there is no official time.

And sure, my training has been sub par these last two weeks (except for the carbo-loading part - I just reached pro status on that, yo).

But hey, I got heart, y'all. And that'll get me across that (imaginary) line, first (only) place medal (I made myself) around my neck.

I'm gonna make my momma proud.

First place.

I can smell it.

And I won't be alone - Amy and Captian Cactus (Love.Them.) will be showing some love up north with the half-marathon.

Word on the street is that afterwards, while they go get shitfaced, I get to go wedding dress shopping.

Hmmmmm....methinks I need a better reward........

So I hope everyone has an awesome weekend, and I will see you all on Sunday!

Moving Along

I am fighting some really bad burnout right now (read: did no work today).

So how about we all talk about fluff, m'kay?

I am the anti-bride.

And I apparently am marrying the world's most traditional man.

Who actually wants to participate in this mess.

Like, with his own ideas and everything.

*eye rolling*

And if there is one thing I learned right-quick is that this whole wedding this is a RACKET.

Forget the mafia – the World of Wedding has cornered the market on shake downs.

And I am having none of it.

Tack on the word “wedding,” to the dress or the reception or the flowers and – BAM! – watch the prices go through the roof.

If I read one more article about how “the perfect flowers will make or break the day,” I will choke myself with calla lilies.

This is what I know for sure at this point:

1. It will be SMALL – not much more than immediate family.
2. Homemade invites
3. If I had to pick a style, it would be rustic country (which I sort of gravitated towards for my personal style even before Cheese popped his country self into my life)
4. Wedding and ceremony in same place
5. Minimal (if any) flowers – mostly candles, lanterns, and button lights
6. At least 3 DIY projects, and likely no more
7. No cake – instead, we are having homemade cupcakes
8. I would like it to be in a barn, but alas, barns are hard to come by in Chicago, so I am still looking for the right (read: cheap and outdoorsy) place.
9. Food for both the rehearsal dinner and wedding will be fun, Chicago-style, and casual (think Chicago hot dogs, Italian beef, sliders and pizza for the welcome dinner)
10. Use of area graduate art students for photography and instrumental ceremony and dinner music

As for the things I am forgoing:

1. Wedding planner – I have both an enthusiastic mom (whose about to see her last kid get married) and a FMIL (who is about to see her last child and only son get married) – so I think I can get most of my bases covered
2. Flowers and cake – as noted above
3. Having to take out a loan to pay for this
4. Obsessing over colors (?), bridesmaid dresses (picking their own), and Cheese’s attire.
5. Save-the-dates – with this few people, it doesn’t matter.
6. RSVP cards – save on paper by having them RSVP to out wedding website (yet to be established)

I guess the things we really want to spend our money on is good fun food, great music, and an awesome party. 90% of our budget will swing that way. All that other stuff is insignificant to us.

Literally.

I mean, the things that could not matter any less would be stuff like centerpieces and invitations. I can barely shower and dress myself on a daily basis, much less try to multitask details like that.

And seriously. When’s the last time you attended a wedding, and then a year later reminisced, “Wow, those were some great invitations they had! And killer centerpieces!” No, right? You remember the party, the dancing, the music, the good time. And maybe the food, but that depends of how much alcohol is consumed.

While I have managed to keep myself relatively calm about all this (‘cause it’s a wedding shit storm out there!), I find myself surprisingly obsessed with all things Melissa Sweet or Claire Pettibone.

Sigh.

Yes, those would be dress designers.

I heart the “Hallie” by Ms. Sweet, and I swoon over the “Marguerite” courtesy of Ms. Pettibone.

These two dresses actually squeeze my heart a bit when I see them, their girly beauty almost overwhelming to my otherwise tomboyish senses.

I suspect should I ever have the glory of trying one of these one, I just may never take it off.

Kinda like my pajamas right now.

Red

Today was one of those days where my rage far surpassed any type of rage I may have ever had towards anybody.

Ever.

I mean, there was probably not a single person I didn't hate today for some reason or another.

(okay fine, except for the girl I interviewed that just came into foster care - I just wanted to give her a big hug, and hi-five the foster mom who just loves the pants off this kid)

But then it was right back to rage.

Blood red.

And to make it worse, every turn I made in my car, every decision I made about things as insignficant as where to get my next cup of coffee - EVERY SINGLE thing- just was wrong.

Things I Hate Today:

My clothes that don't fit
The traffic I spent four hours in
Parents that can't take care of children and fuck them up
This election
People that think they are the Pope
The food damage I did over the last few weeks
Swimming
The fact that I am doing everything I can to waste all those months of fitness
Ignorant people
Bad skin
People that don't do their work or half-ass it because they have a supervisor (me) to clean up
Having to work twice as hard because of those people, and thus working until 3am every night, but yet still making the same shitty pay
The fact that this isn't going to change anytime soon
That I had to actually think about it when the foster mother asked me today if my degree was worth the money put into it

Yeah, I know I should be counting my blessings and making lists of all the things I love - blah, blah, blah. But I can't. Not today.

And at the heart of this anger isn't really anger at all - it the snowball effect of a lot of a things to just really make me feel hopelessness.

Fucking hopeless.

Sobbing-from-worry-and-anger-type hopeless.

The kind of hopeless where it seems that - no matter how much I stick with it, no matter how hard I work, I am simply never going to move forward.

That we collectively aren't moving forward.

And the feeling that I have very little control over that.

Well, on that happy note, I'm off to make some more coffee. It's 10:54pm, I am about to embark on my 14th hour of work, and will be up through tomorrow morning, just to turn around and do it all again.

This Is What It Looks Like When Your Life Is Boring

Don't have a lot to say, except this:

1. My hands smell like maple syrup, but I didn’t eat any pancakes today. Hmmm…but me likey.

2. Since I didn’t mention it, it was probably assumed that Megathon was put on hold. True, it did not happen this weekend. With vacation, and then being consumed by work, I didn’t have time to make my medal (but alas! It will be made this week!). Also, and more importantly, I was a wee bit delinquent on my runs while on vacation (what with all the potential muggings by naked people, I simply couldn’t take that risk – I mean, the last thing I needed was to be just running along, and get bopped over the head by a rogue boobie). So Megathon will be in full effect on Sunday. More info coming soon….(and yes, Captain Cactus, I am holding you to your promise of running the half, my friend of the north)

3. I don’t know what it looks like where you live, but gas here is 3.08, and to us Chicagoans, that’s just as good as FREE at this point. Good thing too, because the gas hike was really cramping all the drive-bys, cruisings, and joy riding that I was so fond of doing. Guess I can put those Vespa plans on hold. Let’s start wasting some gas, people!

4. On tonight’s news, I saw that today in Chicago, people dressed their pets in costumes and had a parade. See! I didn’t even have to stay in Key West to see dogs in a parade! (ba dum bum!)

5. My man’s gone back on the road until mid-November, and you know what that means, right? Yeah, me neither. But it is awfully quiet here, and I have finally managed to air the fart stink out of the couch and bed sheets. Wish.I.Was.Kidding.

6. Why do people who have plastic surgery think that no one can tell? I have that show, "Dr. 90210" on in the background while I work right now, and this really young girl with HUGE new boobs, was all like, "I think it looks really natural, like, if you didn't know me before, you would never know I had a boob job."

Uuuhh...

Yeah.

Yeah, we would.

Because if your a natural girl and have boobs the size of a small child swinging from your chest, those things are going to hang LOW. And they bounce when you run, too.

Fake boobs?

Not so much.

Or at least hers didn't when she was running around the pool.

Man, boobs have been making quite an appearance on this blog lately, yeah?

Okay, for the next few days we are going boob-free.

That's that. Back to work.

Yeah, Yeah, I Already Know I Blog-Suck

I know I promised these pictures like 100 years ago, but funny how work and wedding get in the way of just about everything. Geesh. And boy, I can't wait to let loose about the wedding already. But alas, to be saved for the next post.

And let me preface this entire post by saying that this trip was arranged (date and place) through Cheese's work, so I had no previous knoweldge of the world we were about to enter into.

Having said that, let's begin.


First night there - we noticed that there were few regular cars and lots of tiny electric cars or bikes or vespas to transport around the island. We were lucky enough to get bikes through Cheese's company, but I thought this little car was cute.

First night, after dinner, at the bar - at this point, we had started to notice something was up with this place...lots of...um...interesting characters at this bar (not referring to the couple - Demi and June - behind us - they were part of our group).

Cheese getting his buzz on, me wondering how much longer I have to inhale cigarette smoke...

Having left the bar, we made our way back to the car, stopping for a portriat along the way. It was just moments after this that we noticed two couples walking across the street, both appearing to be in their mid-50s (we have pictures taken with Demi's camera, but I am waiting for this particular beauty to be forwarded to me because my words will never do the event justice). One of these women was wearing a pink low-cut dress that road up so high as she walked, it sat almost at her waist, thus exposing her...lady bits. On the street. Just hanging out.

.

For all to see.

.

Makes sense though - why wear a dress that short if you're only going to keep the bits covered with panties? Or maybe in these tough economical times, she was forced to forgo the panties, and could only afford a ill-fitting shirt. Hmmm.....

.

June from our group ran over for a picture and as the foursome and June posed, the husband...wait for it....hold on....it's good...PULLED HIS WIFE'S TOP DOWN TO EXPOSE HER BOOBIE.

.

LIKE, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET. TO STRANGERS.

.

JUST A BIG FLAPPIN' BOOBIE.

.

And just like that, the tone for the weekend was set.

.

It's on film. Horrifyingly so. I told Cheese the if he ever did that to me in public, I would cut his twig and berries right off then and there with my car key.

Next day, at the beach.

My favorite part of the trip - tooling around on our cruising bikes. WIth my little basket. Love it!

Cheese and his set of wheels.

Last full day - we did this thing where we spent the whole day doing activites like parasailing, wave running, and snorkeling. We were on this boat for most of the day.

Us, and another couple we were with - man, trust me when I say the group we were with could DRINK! I pussed out each night after two beers (hey, I was on vacation, and this was cutting loose for me!) but our group shut it down every night.

Waiting our turn to parasail.

Almost up.....

That's us!

Post-snorkling, on our way back to shore.

And here ya go - Nekkid Pic #1 (you won't seem much more then this though - despite the weirdness being no deterant to Cheese, I had trouble digesting the 70-year-old bare breasts, so I will withhold those pictures). This particular gal has no actual clothes on - just paint. And she was like a local celebrity, and just walked the streets while people took pictures. Cheese looks bored, yeah?

Ah, the natural beauty of the island. Sweet girls.
.
Oh, let me tell you this - moments after this, a 70-year-old woman in a mascarade mask (as if to be modest), nipple pasties (!), and a mini skirt (that was more like a belt and less like a skirt, as evidenced by her lady bits exposed) explained to us this whole idea of Fanstasy Fest. Again, I appear to be the only person in the world to not know this. Frankly, I appreciated her take on the week's event of "An Adult Halloween," but I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a touch queasy as her flappy boobies brush my arm.

.

As if this wasn't enought, Cheese, I and our group went to another bar, only to witness two 65-year-old ladies with GINORMOUS exposed boobies flashing for pictures. Like, yeah - someone's grandmothers.

.

And the night's topper? A lovely upstanding gentlman apporach Granny #1 AND LICKED HER BOOBIE. ON THE STREET!!!! LICKED IT!!!! AND SHE WAS OLD!!!!!!
.

Cripes.

Last stop - Kareoke. I was the last of our group to go, and so terribly unwillingly that I was actually ambushed into it - here is a look of my "I will fucking kill you Cheese in the privacy of our room, but right now I will put on a happy face for our group so that they don't see the Devil Megan." There is actually video of this - I debated posting it, because it's truly horrid...but yet oddly laughable.....

Moments before we took off for the airport - this was actually half a block from our hotel, so we really were out there in the middle of the ocean. I am still expecting some pictures from our group, so as they come in, I will post!

Clearing the Air

Back from vacation.

Lots of fun, lots of pictures, lots of stories (did anyone else know Key West was like, a naked-peoples paradise? Good lordy.)

But before I post them, I have to clear the air about something.

I probably could have let a lot of this go, but because all blog comments get sent to my Blackberry, I was still getting a few while in Florida.

And the shit pissed me off.

Listen, I love the comments - I love the ones that raise counterpoints, make me think, challenge me just as much as I love the ones that agree with me.

But the Sarah Palin post was not a post to argue her qualifications. It was a not a post of persuasion for your vote.

It was a post about personal decorum in this election.

By Saturday, it seemed that several of the comments (though not all the comments - some were quite thoughtful and nice), sort of missed the point, or misinterpreted what I was trying to say. Those comments left me wondering if people actually read the post or just shut down once they read the words “Sarah Palin.”

I say this because it became very clear that, despite anything I wrote or point I tried to make, certain words/beliefs/thoughts/actions became ascribed to me – and incorrectly so.

The most common of inaccuracies?

Based on the comments, it is clear that a number of people:

1.)Think I told you vote for Sarah Palin
2.)Think I told you to vote for SP because she’s a woman (my personal fav)
3.)Believe I was endorsing or arguing for her competence
4.)Think I believe she is right for the VP
5.)Believe me to have no sense of humor.

If you have read me long enough, you would know that not a single one of those items is accurate or correct.

In fact, I have emphatically stated, over and over, that I personally do not jive with a lot of what she says.

And not to point any fingers, but I think this one comment pretty much sums it up:

“Anything that I would have to say would be framed by the assumption that you could see that SP is a dolt….you don’t seem to see that, so let’s move on.”

The reason I picked out this comment is because I think it truly speaks to these misconceptions about me. I NEVER said she was competent, and again, I never argued that she was appropriate for the job. In fact, I believe I said – numerous times in the post and comments section – that I do not support her. But I did say that as adults, we can believe someone to be not right for a job, and not have to engage in name calling or insults to get our point across.

Moreover, I don’t support Obama either, but I would never belittle his gender or race as reasons for why I don’t feel his policies are right for this country either.

I should also point out that I NEVER said we shouldn't examine the issues, or just ignore certain these and vote soley on personal traits (i.e. AGAIN - I NEVER said we should vote for SP because she is a woman, or Obama because he is biracial, or McCain because he is white or a war veteran) But I also realize that it is unrealsitic to assume that everyone in the nation is voting based on policy issues.

I also received the following arguments:

1.)Why don’t I get pissed off when people call Obama “terrorist?”
2.)It’s unfair to argue that all Democrats or woman behave this way towards SP.

To the first argument, I respond: I am a woman. I was speaking from a woman’s perspective about the treatment of women. I had the same reaction when people were bagging on Hillary when she almost started to cry and it was said that, as a woman, she wasn’t “tough” enough to be President (and no, I wasn’t voting for – or suggesting people vote for - Hillary because she was a woman either). That is why I spoke of the SP issue, and not Obama. Having said that, I don’t think this sort of behavior is appropriate on EITHER side, so while I didn’t post on it (again, I was speaking from the woman’s perspective) I do not feel it is appropriate to call Obama names like terrorists either – or any other name for that matter. Or Biden, or McCain.

To the second item, I never once said ALL Democrats or women are doing this stuff. The post was towards people that WERE doing it, and if you find yourself not to be in this category, let it go. Similarly, when Obama supporters make sweeping generalizations that all conservatives are money-grubbing, poor-people-hating racists – well, considering my entire professional career is structured around the advancement of the “disadvantaged,” I can confidently say that those kinds of comments don’t include me.

Is this a free country and you can say what you want about any candidate? Yes. Is it your right to name call and ridicule based on personal traits? Yup, it is. And our country allows for this – the freedom to do this is one of the things that make us different and great.

My point was about personal decorum.

And those are my final words about that.

Once I load up the all the pictures, it will be beach and bikini posts from here on out.

Or at least for the next few days.

Or maybe even for the next two weeks.

Because seriously, aren't stories about naked painted people and swingers more fun than this election anyways?

On Vacation

See ya in a few.

Female

I am not going to discuss the debate.

The way I see it, John McCain could have stepped on that stage, sat at that desk, and pulled out the solution for World Peace from his back pocket, and yet the mainstream media and 50 % of the population would have said, “Yeah, well, he didn’t look presidential.”

But what I have spent that last day considering is why this whole Palin thing has really pissed me off.

It’s crazy, because, while my economics are conservatives, my social beliefs are liberal, and thus, I don’t even really agree with a lot of what Palin represents.

So why do I feel so defensive when I see so many degrading personal attacks?

Because I feel like I have spent the last three months in the basement of a frat house around 3am, when the air is rich with judgment, superficiality, and gender degradation.

Since the announcement of Palin's VP candidate status, the Internet, television broadcast, and office conversations have been overwhelmed with inappropriate behavior towards her – slamming her feminism under the guise of attacking her intellect or policy.

It's crazy that those who are the first to stand up and scream about the government “keeping your hands off my ovaries!” are also the first to giggle about and email YouTube videos of Palin in a beauty pageant.

The hypocrisy of this is that (for those guilty of Palin slurs), on one hand, you turn to your daughters/sisters/nieces/student and tell them, “You can do ANYTHING in the world you want! You can even be President!” But on the other hand, you turn around and post videos of busty girls imitating Palin’s life, call her “dolt” or a "twat," say she's had the IQ of a house plant, or suggest that men would only vote for her based on the size of her breasts.

(This “dolt” slam, by the way, is even more ironic considering the fact that, point-by-point, Palin outspoke Biden during that debate, with Biden making significantly more mistakes, inaccurate statements, and outright lies – while Palin only got credit for “not fucking up as bad as we thought” and a couple random comments of her high heels – yeah, and Palin’s the dolt).

Because what you are really saying to the female youth is, “Yeah, you caaaan be anything you want, but just as long you believe and follow the popular thought....aaaaaand, even then you should expect to be degraded, ridiculed and dragged through the mud.”

I mean, we are basically reversing everything our mothers taught us when we went through high school – we are teaching our girls that it’s more important to follow the crowd, to be popular, to say the right things, as opposed to standing up for what you really believe in, having principles and speaking out, even if it means the popular group won’t accept you.

We are teaching them that, by doing the unpopular, you should EXPECT maltreatment.

And the worst offenders seem to be females. It’s truly unbelievable that in an effort to support one side, you have actually encouraged the backslide of a gender. Think back to every slam you make against Palin personally – I mean, ANYTHING not associated with her actual politics. And think about whether or not you would/did say that in front of a ten-year-old girl, or how you would respond if that had been said ABOUT your ten-year-old daughter/sister/niece/student.

You call yourself feminist, but then you lower yourself to the level of that basement frat boy with these antics. You ride the gender equality train as it roars into the station, but then you question whether or not Palin can have a family and hold office. You scream about equal education, but then riducle the schools where she earned her degrees. You yell, "Equality! Diversity!" but then make fun of her accent, choice of words, and hobbies.

So basically, you believe a woman CAN be President (or Vice President), but just as long as she's liberal, only moderately attractive, and of immaculate educational/geographical background.

I’ve said it a million times – you don’t like her, don’t vote for her. But take a second to think about the words that come out of your mouth, think about the emails you forward, think about ears of the young girls that surround you. Think about what it was like for you in high school, and how insecure you felt under the superficial judging eyes and hurtful words of the jocks and popular kids - and then ask yourself how your own behaviors are any different.

I was told once by a blogger that I "shouldn't take it so personally" when people engage in this behavior against Palin. But why shouldn't I? More importantly, why don't you, female blogger? Because, as a young female in a supervisory position, I hear way too often insinuations regarding my ability given my age and gender.

I sit at meetings where I am dismissed, but my male supervisor is acknowledged.

I AM offended because my I am a daughter of a family - of a mother - who worked her life to ensure that I had and took advantage of opportunities to succeed that she din't have as a female growing up in the 50s.

And here we are, in 2008, ensuring that we "keep the woman in her place."

So again - why aren't you offended?

The Proposal

Wrigley, August 2007 - The first date and first kiss, both under the sign

On August 28, 2007, I picked up Cheese from his hotel during his Chicago work deployment. It was the first time we met face-to-face, and I was nervous. I had to wear my black cami because I knew I would be sweating my ass off from nerves.

But he was amazing - he did most of the talking because, even after the 20+ phone hours we had logged in the three days before this, I was stuck for words.

I figured that any red-blooded male that has never been to Chicago would want to see Wrigley Field, so I got tickets for their game against the Brewers - both teams were in first place at this time, and it was a HUGE series. Needless to say, he loved it. And (though he may tell it different), I think he started to love me.

It was a good night.

Fast forward to October 10, 2008. Cheese's family arrived that morning at 4AM. He still had to work, so I spent the day with his mom, sister, neice and nephew. We had fun, but it was a really long day. After picking his dad up from the airport, Cheese was INSISTANT that we drive to Wrigley Field to show his dad (who apparently has seen it 8 times before, but this was all part of the plan).

One hour, two screaming kids, some really worn out adults - we tumble up to Wrigley. It was 730, and I was tired, dirty, and bleeidng from ears from all the child-whining I endured for the last ten hours. We walked around the stadium until we were in front of the sign, just like a year ago.

As we stood there, I noticed Cheese kept turing his head around as if he was looking for something. After I took pictures of his parents under the sign, I turned my head and noticed my family standing across the street.

I looked at him, looked at them, and asked, "What's my family doing across the street?"

And then it started to come together......

As they crossed the street, I looked back to Cheese, who, in front of the Wrigley sign, was bent on knee, white box in hand.

His eyes were wet. He croacked out, "Meg, will you marry me?"

For a few seconds I was stunned, and couldn't speak (to him, on bended knee, this felt like hours). I just kept covering my face, laughing, looking at my family (or so I was told - this part gets a little blurry).

Finally I nodded and said, "Yes."

As he hugged me and kissed me and told me he loved me, he told me that he had a speech, but he started to choke up and couldn't get it out.

My family (and all the random strangers that stood there cheering and taking pictures) milled around, hugging and kissing and crying.

Despite my posture here, this will not be a shot gun wedding.

/

I should mention that Cheese has spent the last three weeks organizing this whole thing - emails, phne calls, plans, scheming - he did it all, and my whole family was in on it. He called both sisters, my brother and my mom for their blessing, all of whom gave it. Like I mentioned in the last post, this whole thing could not have gone down with out my sisters and my mom. And they did an AMAZING job of lying through their teeth at me when I started to suspect something was up.

/

Well done, Liars Liars Pants on Fire!

I tried really hard to get a decent picture of the ring - it's weird because it sits high - not flat on the band, and I wanted a picture that got a feel for it - this was the best I could do.

This one is blurry, but you get a sense of the height.

So after the proposal, Cheese herded us all across the street to Harry Carey's Tavern, where my mom conitnued to cry, and everyone stuffed their faces. The above picture is Devin and Patrick.

My mom. The following night (which I will get to later), she cooked the MASSIVE past dinner, conplete with meatballs and sausage, and brownies and peach crisp for dessert, for Devin's marathon run. She was the bestest mom ever.

My brohter in law, Nat, and Devin's friend Dave, who would be running the marathon with her.

My sister Ellen (who started her own blog of fabulousness - she's like a really cute version of me, but with tons more style [versus my none], lots of biting wit, and a beautiful kid to finish the package. Check it out and give her some love as she starts to built it!)

Odd, there are almost no pictures of us from that night. I took this one from my crappy camera.

90 minutes after all this went down, we were walking back to the car, and Momma Cheese took my arm, asking:

/

"So can we start thinking about when you going to have kids?"

/

Uh, no.

/

We can't.

/

Oh, and lest I forget - as if reading my mind - he thought ahead and got us this swank ass hotel room for the night, so that we could have a break from the air matress and the screaming kids.

Like I mentioned, the next night my mom cooked a pre-marathon feast for both families. This was all of us - can you imagine?

Me and my BFF Anne-Marie. How cute is she? MAWWWAAAA! (that's me giving a big kiss!)

As I mentioned, the following day was marathon day - this is me and Ellie on the train down to ChinaTown to see my sister Devin, who was running her 672nd marathon. Just kidding, but seriously, that girl loves to run this one! She ran with her friend Dave, who struggled a bit, but they stuck it all out together, finishing in 4:47. The heat again hit the upper 80s yesterday, but I guess it was less of an issue than last year.

/

So there you have it - the whole story. Cheese's family left this morning, and then we took a really long nap. I have toyed with the idea of going to the gym, but that may have to wait one more day.

/

A huge thanks again to Stronger for that awesome post! And thanks so so so so much for all the awesome congrats from the blogger world - If it wasn't for this whole blogging thing, my life would not look like it does today. As my little brother told Cheese when he called for the blessing, "I never thought I would see the day that my sister would get married."

/

Now, about that Vegas elopement...

Mother of All Weekends

Well, I may not have run the Chicago Marathon, but I sure got my "bling."


Oh yeah. That is what you think it is. Cheese lost his damn mind and wants to marry me.

This is us, goofing off, trying to get a decent picture of this thing. And you all know me - I own virtually no jewlery except for a pearl necklace my sister got me, I couldn't tell you the first thing about diamonds (including what carats mean) and am about three steps BELOW "low maintance"- but I gotta tell you - I love this ring. I mean like, I can't stop staring at it. When he opened the box, I damn threw up from blindness. It's so sparkly! Please bear with me, 'cause I have a feeling I will be slobbering about this for while, and trying to post a picture that does it justice. I know that's tacky as hell, but fuck it.

So, the brief run down is this (because it will likely be a good day before I can properly post).

His family arrived Friday monring at 4AM. Yes, AM. As in, the morning. After some sleep, we lal hit the ground running, withthe surprise proposal Friday night (details next post), followed by a joint family dinner, the another full day of festivities, and a pre-marathon dinner for my sister and her friend Dave.

It is now after midnight on Sunday morning, and while 45,000 runners sleep soundly just hours before "game time" in Grant Park, I am sitting on a cooler in my kitchen while seven people slumber around my apartment - wondering what the hell just happened.

Tomorrow it will be a day of spectating, then a visit to the zoo, and wrapped up with a pizza party at Devin's.

A million pictures and details to follow in the next day, but before I go, I need a couple of back slaps -

First, this weekend would never have happened without my family. Ellen, Devin and my mom were the key figures, and nothing would have gone down without you guys.

For Nat and PAtrick, two brother-in-laws that are beyond gracious in dealing with the tornados of having me and my sisters always around.

For Nolan, who couldn't be here but sent the most wonderful text this morning.

For Anne-Marie and Colin, who came toight to celebrate - it meant the world. And yes, Anne-Marie, you can carry flowers in the wedding, and yes, I will ask you properly.

And of course to Cheese - are you sure? I mean, like, REALLY sure? 'Cause if you know me at all, you know I am a handful, and loving me is like living in dogs years - everything seems to last that much longer.

More later. I got a marathon to cheer for in a few hours.

GO DEVIN, FRIED CHICKEN DAVE, and JOE!!!!!!!!

Life as Usual

First things first
Thanks for being patient with this whole transition. I myself find it to be a massive ass cramp to have to sign in every.single.time, so I appreciate those who make that effort.

That said, I had a chuckle over all the comments about it being a super secret club – I made a comment to Flatman about how people would think this was a lot less cool if they knew that the girl on the other side of the screen was:

A) A virtual shut-in who found it too time-consuming to change her clothes on a daily basis and often even slept in them for that matter
B) May go all day without brushing her teeth, and
C) Has taken to eating her dinner of cereal out of a measuring bowl because she can’t be bothered to actually look through the three cabinets to figure out where she unpacked the real bowls.

A month and a half ago.

Yup – I certainly am a prize.

(and I will have you know that I almost hit “publish” before I noticed I wrote bowels instead of bowls. So I guess I have that going for myself – I don’t eat my cereal out of bowels).


Second things second
What with all the excitement of private bloggers and criminals, I really haven’t said much about the fact that I have:

A.) Gained three more pounds, now upping the total to 13 for my post-IM physique;

B.) Cheese comes home today.

And you know what call the day of his return?

PM Day.

As in, Personal Maintenance.

Although it really should named “Gosh Damn that Wax Sure is Hot and Can You Please Not Wax the Actual Skin Off My Lip This Time Because It Makes Me Look Like I Have Herpes” Day, but that’s such a mouthful, yeah?

With Cheese gone all the time, there’s a lot of room to get really lazy about personal upkeep. I mean seriously – if I tweeze my eyebrows , wack down my leg hair and wax my lip hair ONCE once during his absence, I call it a victory for personal hygeine. ‘Cause whose looking? Really?

The only regular appointment I keep is with the bikini waxer – Cheese home or not – mostly because I still swim and frankly, like Samantha said on Sex In The City – “I could be on Death Row and still not have that situation.”

Oh, and while I am the topic of lady bits – I was at the Y last week, and on my way to the pool, through the showers, there was a lady shaving her lady bits. IN THE PUBLIC SHOWER. Not even, like, in a stall – like in the open shower area, where you just have the spouts.

Now, call me prude, but this seemed a bit…unsanitary? I don’t even know if that’s the right word. I mean, I personally don’t care about the shaving part (like I said, I’m a waxer – to each his own – and besides, I’d rather you clean it up because you can’t BELIEVE how uncomfortable it is to be swimming next to some with….”the situation.” I mean, how do you NOT look, yeah?)

And yeah. I stared.

Shame's just a four-letter word. And I ain't got none.

But to be taking care of such private business in such a public place seemed off. But again, maybe I am old fashioned.

Well, old fashioned in the sense that it’s apparently okay to talk about lady bits on a blog, just not shave them in public. See the difference? Yeah, me neither.


Third things is last
The weight thing is a surprise I must say – seeing how I have been such Spinnervals whore these last few weeks. And speaking of whore, is it me or are Spinnervals like cycling porn?

Lemme break this down:
1. You got all the weird awkward camera angles – on the ground looking up, head-on, from behind, and frankly, the lighting does no one any favors.

2. You go the cyclists themselves – trying to out perform the guy next to them, trying not to look directly at the camera and the creepiness when they do – it’s a reminder that it’s actually a job, and hey, maybe they aren’t really enjoying this.

3. The music – are you kidding me with this? Real porn might actually have a leg up on this one.

4. The in-between set interviews and story lines are about as realistic and well-scripted as the “plumber coming to fix the pipes.”

Hmm.

Looking over this post I gotta say – lady bits and porn?

No wonder you need to sign in now.

'Nuff Said

You guys are the Red Vines to my lunch, the coffee to my day, the sarcasm to my conversation.


In other words, I can't live without ya. Thanks for the feedback and the massive support.


I got a mind chock full of crazy that is beating to get out, and the flood gates are about to open.


At this time tomorrow, I will be PRIVATE.


If you think I might not have your email address. please, please send it to me. My email address should be listed in my profile.


I know I already heard from some people, and while I ahve a bunch of them, I know I don't have a few (Borsch, Joe, Steph, Captian Cactus and Amy from Tri Thinking Pink, etc.) If your comments don't link back to an email, or you are a lurker, or whatever the case may be, and you think I might not have you email, please send it to me, or at least some form of email that you can use to log in.


So right now I am going to figure how to do it, and get the ball rolling.


THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Decisions

Alright, all.

I have a dilemma.

Thing is, I found myself in a situation at work today (I wrote a nice long scathing post on it but am holding back for a second before posting it) where for the first time, I think I may be searched out on the Internet.

Meaning, I think a client might actually try to get info on me, and not in a nice way.

It was bound to happen at some point, I guess.

So just in case, I Googled myself tonight (I have done this before to help make the blog more private and unlinkable back to me - hence, some of the changes, like from Megan to "M"). And while I caught a few things before and again tonight, I worry that there may items out there to link me to the blog.

And moreover, I REALLY worry that this guy is going to find it.

Trust me, he likes his research, and he is awfully determined (the details of which are forthcoming in the aforementioned post).

So the quandry is this: I HATE HATE the idea of going private, but I feel like I might be at the cusp of that at this point. I know I have made some mistakes in the past about putting my info out there, and I have since deleted all traces to me, but you never know.

Furthermore, I am considering dismantling my Facebook page. Honestly, the novelty has worn off, and it's just another link back to me.

My point is - I really want to keep talking about my life and my experiences, but there are people out there that will definately use this against me (not you guys - I speak of crazy people with whom I work).

So I guess this is sort of a pre-warning that things might go private soon. I know, it's a pain to have to log in - trust me - I am not happy about this either - but better that then potentially be sued for saying shit that can be misconstrued.

And we all know I like to talk candidly.

So I am going to put that out there for the next day of so, try to tie up some loose ends, and then give you the post about what really happened today, so you can see for yourselves why I might be slightly worried (no identifying info - I am legally bound by confidentiality - but again, you never know who might read what).

Oh, and my blue has turned to bright red - for enraged.

Welcome back, Little Meggie, welcome back.

Hanging

Still blusey.

Thanks to all those that have checked in - I had some less-bluey moments in the last three days, but overall I just find myself to be in this funk that has no actual meaning/trigger/reason.

I haven't posted because, gosh - I barely muster the energy to climb my ass out bed each morning, much less try to put together a coherent or interesting thought.

I mostly cry. And move slowly.

And I am a pretty solitary person to begin with, but now I am almost a total shut-in - a life position usually reserved for the eldery, of which I am not.

Yet.

Although based on my 16-miler today, my body beleives itself to be in its golden years already.

And I think that makes it all the more difficult - I had planned to basically sweat my bad mood out of me this weekend with huge workouts, and it didn't happen.

My should-have-been three hour ride yesterday turned into a 90 minute ordeal.

My 20-miler today was cut short to 16 due to my general weezing and lack of breath.

And despite my recent return to the pool (I know, I am stunned to) I didn't make it there this weekend.

And I am sick again.

Okay, yeah, so.....

I think that is far and away enough bitching for one day.

I keep trying to remind myself of a saying I have written on a card that sits in front of the tv and bike trainer: "There will be a day when you can no longer do this - Today is not that day."

And its true. Pissy mood, shortened workouts, whatever - despite it all, I can still hold an appreciation for the fact that my body can even carry itself 16 miles.

Onto another week...