beer, a bad run, and bras

It's Fridnesday! Hooray for long holiday weekends!

I had an adventurous morning but really, the story starts with last night.

It was a semi-late night as Colleen and I went to Republic's new location in Calhoun Square. She peer pressured me into "just one more", bringing my total beer count to three. My stomach only had red curried chicken and veggies (no rice) in it so there was little to "soak up" those fermented grains. 

I very much enjoy living within walking distance to Uptown.

beer flight. three 8oz beers, $10.  do it.

So anyway, this morning when my alarm went off at 5, I laid there for a few minutes but eventually got up and dressed and out the door. Into a heat wave. Tights and a jacket were extreme overkill. I think it was like 45 degrees. Thank you, Global Warming.

My run was fairly uneventful until the last mile, when the beer and red curry from hours earlier began to brawl in my stomach. Fearing I would mar my perfect record of not pooping my pants while running, I did the whole run-walk-clench the last mile. Don't judge, you've totally been there.

I made it home safely and evacuated the contents of my stomach. This whole episode put me into a severe time crunch because I had to be out the door by 6:30 to make it to G & G's by 7, leaving no time for a shower. I quickly threw clothes and shower essentials into a bag and left, planning to get ready there.

Except I forgot to pack a bra, a fun fact I discovered while getting dressed at my grandparents.

I figured my options were 1) Wear one of my Grandma's. 2) Drive home and be extremely late to work. 3) Go to Target and buy one. 4) Go braless. (I actually considered that last option pretty seriously until I remembered that we were bringing two candidates in for interviews. I didn't want them to think we were that type of office. )

So my story resolves with me going into Target (braless), buying a bra, and putting it on while driving to work.

I would like to make a joke about breasts and Thanksgiving but I can't come up with one. At least you know I tried. 

PS- In running news, there is running news! Thanks in large part to KT tape and my foam roller, I'm running again. 20 miles last week, 23 on tap for this week. 

on breathing

Yesterday would have been Joel's 8th birthday.

I had been writing a post in my head for weeks but yesterday hit me hard. I tried to avoid even thinking about it, making myself busy celebrating Colleen's birthday with brunch and then threw myself into painting. Nothing distracts quite like cutting in. And paint fumes.

I left my apartment around 4 o'clock to bring my grandparents dinner. As I was making a right hand turn onto the highway, a car that I thought was going to turn- because, you know, they had their blinker on- came barreling through the intersection and found it necessary to blare their horn and glare at me. This small act was the excuse my tears needed because I started to cry. Scratch that, bawl.

Clearly it wasn't about the fine display of Minnesota Nice. To say it was about missing Joel is a massive understatement.

It's not like missing him is limited to November 18 but it brought forth all sorts of memories from his last birthday party, his third. We had to have it at the Ronald McDonald House and Joel had to keep a blue mask on the whole time because his little immune system was so fragile. Things were bad at that time and I remember shuddering at the thought that it could be his last. 

His health improved dramatically over the next few weeks, enough to make us all think that we were over this and out of the woods.

One of the worst- and most wonderful- things about life is that it can change in breath.

It only took a breath for Joel to contract a common virus that changed everything. 

One day I was painting his face and the next, I was holding an oxygen mask to it.

It's not fair, it doesn't make sense and there's nothing you can do about it. All anyone can do is keep taking those breaths that can change everything. Because that's life.

So these days, when I find myself in a place of loneliness, of heartache, of grief, of waiting... I breathe, hoping that the next breath will be the one that changes everything. 

And when breathing feels impossible, I run.

i've been doing it wrong

(source)

Clearly I need to practice. Who wants to go eat sushi?

moved

Since I’m currently going through a rough patch with running (thanks to my knee), I’ve found something else to completely occupy my affection: my new apartment.

I recently moved into the Uptown area into a very old building with many, many quirks. Some people (side-eye, Mom) might say that it’s a bit rundown. I like to say that it has character. 

this is what my block looked like this morning

 It’s a studio apartment that doesn’t really feel like a studio because the kitchen and bathroom are completely separate from the main living space which is very long and narrow, almost like a bowling alley.

the main living space, as seen from the doorway to the kitchen

same space, post move-in

And I have two entryways, one into the kitchen and a more "formal" entryway into the main living space. 

kitchen entryway

I also have two huge walk-closets, one of which is large enough to fit a twin bed in it. So guess what I’m doing? I’m getting a twin bed for the sole purpose of creating a supremely awesome sleeping nook. 

this is an awkward shot of my "bedroom"
the closet extends to the left. just enough space for a twin.

Really, though, this is the first place I’ve lived in that’s felt like me. Every apartment prior has been what felt like a holding cell while I waited for a new job transfer, a new job offer, or a relationship to reach a new level. Boxes would sit unpacked in a corner because I never thought I’d be in any of them long enough to warrant fully unpacking.

But here, I plan to settle. For the first time since college, my life, my whole life, is here in Minnesota. And it’s a really good feeling.

Here’s to roots. 

tgif

I washed my hair with Palmolive dish soap this morning.

I forgot my shampoo and conditioner at my grandparents when I stayed over there on Tuesday night and I neglected to wash my hair yesterday, meaning washing it today was an absolute necessity. Anyway, it worked out surprisingly well.

That's one of downsides of moving- disorganization. Tomorrow I'm moving in the last of my furniture and other useful items that you don't miss until you don't have them (like kitchen towels).

Tonight I'm going to a party where the dress code is elastic waistbands and the guest list is women only. Excited is too little a word.  

this sums it up

I'm still here, just busy moving into a new apartment, doing my best to juggle work and family and running, all while maintaining some semblance of a social life.

still kicking it with g & g on a daily basis

my new studio apt that i'm in love with
it has a lot more stuff now

Speak soon.