Monday, January 31, 2011

Preparing for the Apocalypse

Valerie and I ran to Target for a brief second tonight to exchange the garlic chicken she'd accidentally bought with the much more practical plain chicken that she'd intended to buy.

On the way to the frozen food section, I passed this...

Empty sandwich meat shelves.
And this...

The Epic Snow Storm of 2011

Everyone is preparing for the impending snow storm like it's the apocalypse. It's quite exciting. The weather man is predicting 8-12 inches of snow, which is a healthy dose of precipitation even by Montana standards.

But because Norman probably owns only one snow plow, we anticipate being stuck in our little cottage for a few days. We are stocking up on groceries and other necessities, planning meals for the next few days, and everyone is making sure that they have a working ice scraper.

Hey! Maybe that ridiculously high steeped roof of ours (which is only practical in a land full of snow) will finally come in handy.

There has already been a Facebook event created for a North vs South Greek Snow Fight for 2 p.m. tomorrow. If there is, in fact, a foot of snow, that'll be epic. I participated in the first one last year, and running around in the snow was the best escape from cabin fever ever. I'm really hoping the snow fight happens again this year.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Final Memoir Piece

Today was our last day of the memoir writing seminar. Despite not really spending enough of our time in the class itself, I'm sad to leave it. I've been having such a good time getting to know everyone, and I am definitely enjoying the brief hiatus from reality.

Too bad I have to return from the magical land of writing tomorrow. So tragic.

The last thing we did for the seminar was read our personal memoir piece (that we'd been working on during the course of the seminar) to the rest of the group.

My piece -- included below -- is one of my earliest memories, when I was about two years old.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Mama V

I guess I'm turning into the mother of my little memoir class. Jordan called me Mama V today. I can't help it. It's my Italian coming out in me.

Well, I actually don't think I have any Italian at all. But I've always loved hosting, and I'm a food pusher. These are all a stereotypical part of being an Italian, to which I very much relate.

Tonight everyone is coming over to my house and I am making them Creamy Tomato Artichoke Pasta (recipe courtesy of Pioneer Woman). I have literally made this recipe for everyone I know; it's my want-to-impress-people meal.

And we are going to have a fire in the fire pit and enjoy the gorgeous 75 degree weather we've been having (for the second day in a row!).

I will also try to take some pictures of the evening to share here. I need to start practicing.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Short Days are Frustrating

My Writing Memoirs class is a bit of a joke. Not the class itself (I love it!) but the fact that it only lasts for two and a half hours every day.

At first I thought, well maybe that's just for the first couple days while the visiting professor catches up on her rest and relaxation. Maybe it's a stressful time for her. Maybe she has big things to do in the evening, and so meeting with us for two and a half hours (and then individual sessions with a few each day for three hours) is just about all she can handle.

But then she let us out early today and didn't tell us that class would resume in the evening. So once again, we're done for the day way before any of us really want to be done.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Too Much FB PDA

Dear Guys in Love with Girls,

Please don't share that information with the world on Facebook. We don't need to know. Pillow talk is called pillow talk for a reason, and it belongs in the bedroom.

Whisper sweet nothings in private. It doesn't belong permanently inscribed in zeros and ones, deep in the recesses in cyberspace. Because first of all, that's impersonal. Go buy her flowers. Typing up a love note [shouldn't] cut it anymore.

And when a long status pops up in my newsfeed about the luster of her eyes and how her beauty is only outshone by her intelligence, I don't think it's romantic. I want to gag.

Too much public display of affection. And yes, PDA still counts as PDA on Facebook.

Knock it off.


Girl Wanting to Creep on People While Keeping My Food Down

Slam Poetry in OKC

Last night after the first day of memoir writing was over, all the students in the seminar went out for dinner at Coaches, a pub-ish on Main Street. We have each $100 in Sooner Sense (1 pt = $1) to spend for the duration of the seminar (more than we really need, but no complaints), and Coaches is one of the businesses in town that honors those points. Excellent. $5.99 burgers all around, courtesy of OU.

After dinner, a few went to Orange Leaf to spend a few more of those points/dollars on soft serve ice cream. I rode back to the hotel with a few others. About halfway back, Jordan (the driver) mentioned that he was heading into OKC for a poetry slam after he dropped us off.

I almost got whiplash, my head swiveled so quickly.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Writing Memoirs

Today I began a five-day intensive course on writing memoirs. So far it has just been a lot of creative, free writing where you create stories on the fly from a random list of words. I am having a blast.

My teacher sounds exactly like Anjelica Huston (probably because they are, in fact, sisters), and I have never done so much random writing. It's very liberating to just spout out whatever comes to mind first.

I even tried my hand at stand-up storytelling. Kinda like stand-up comedy meets improv. A new experience.

My stand-up story was about how the Dalai Lama was walking along one day and met a roly-poly and turtle sitting on a rock, debating on the best way to use a calculator to determine the distance to the moon. The Dalai Lama said that the answer was love and joy, and he offered them sushi. He then felt bad because sushi was very close in food groups to the turtle, and so he decides to take a sabatical from religious life to reasses his views on cannibalism.

Probably not something I'll pursue in my future writing. Unless I can think of something clever for his sabatical. Any suggestions?

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

It's Official

Today I officially accepted my position as a secondary school social studies teacher in Alabama!

I'm not sure what the next two years will bring, but I couldn't be more excited to find out. I love the idea of living in Alabama, getting a true southern twang, teaching history to high schoolers, and making a difference in someone's life. 

Monday, January 24, 2011

The Best Movies Ever

When I Have to Pick, I Tell Everyone My Favorite Movie Is:
  • Life is Beautiful (La vita é bella)

Other Movies that Blew My Mind: 
  • Fight Club
  • Memento
  • Gummo

Movies that Make Me Want to Make Movies:
  • Little Miss Sunshine
  • Sunshine Cleaning
  • Gummo (So raw and honest. And about a socioeconomic class-- intense rural poverty-- that society seems to always ignore.)
  • George Washington (for the same reasons as Gummo)
  • Blood Diamond (Movies have the power, on the smallest level, to change opinions and, on a bigger scale, change the direction of people's lives.) 

Movies I Love to Love (Just Because):
  • Away We Go
  • Forrest Gump
  • Smart People
  • Love Actually
  • Holiday Inn
  • The Royal Tenenbaums
  • Ocean's Eleven
  • Miss Congeniality
  • Pride and Prejudice (both the new one and the six hour A&E version)

Sunday, January 23, 2011

My Life has Been Irrevocably Altered

After about eight months of desperate longing and saving and more longing, I decided that it was officially time to purchase myself a nice camera. A real camera. A camera that takes pictures in incredible quality and has an adjustable focus and adjustable shutter speed (basically, adjustable everything).

So on Saturday, Val and I drove to Best Buy and walked to the camera section of the store. A salesman approached.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. I want to buy that camera. Please."

I think he was a bit taken back by my abruptness. Easiest sale he's ever made.

But hey, when a woman knows what she wants, she knows what she wants.

Of course, then I had to send another sales guy to the back to find my sales guy because I'd accidently pointed at the wrong camera.

The salesman came back with my camera in a beautiful box.

"Do you need anything else? I would actually recommend getting a lens flare---"

"Yes, I'd like that too. Please."

I was so excited that I was having a hard time being polite. I just wanted to hold my camera. Because it was already mine, naturally.

The human bond with her camera cannot be explained. It's like magic. Only cooler.

The sales guy continued to hold my box while we walked up to the customer service register. I was a bit irritated that he wasn't letting me carry it. It's mine!

But of course, he was also helping me out. The in-store price tag read $849.99, and I was pretty darn sure that the online store price (and the price I was quoted when I called in that morning) was $798.99. And not a penny more. The sales guy was going to relay this information on to the customer service lady so that she'd give me the discount.

Which was nice of them. Except that I'm fairly positive that if I hadn't said anything, they would have taken me for the $50. Uncool.

But they couldn't because I didn't let them -- though they made that money back and more when I purchased a warranty package.

All in all, my price tag for the visit was just baaaaaarely under four digits. I've never dropped that much money on a single purchase in my entire life. My car in high school didn't even cost that much.

The swipe of plastic that followed felt very satisfying.

And now, I am the proud owner of a beeeeeeaaaautiful, brand new Canon Rebel T2i.


Isn't she a beauty?!

Being annoying and taking pictures of my roommate
while she does her makeup. I mean, I needed to take
pictures of something.

Imitating my idol Pioneer Woman with her hip pop.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Defensive Dancing

Last night was a good night with friends. It was girl's night, and we went out to Campus Corner (an area north of campus full of bars, restaurants and little boutiques) and got our dance on.

And we wore heels. A rare -- but oh so fun -- occurrence.

A word of caution though. High heels may make for great legs, but they are subpar when it comes to dancing. Well, excellent for dancing, but subpar when it comes to walking the next day after dancing a bunch the night before. My feet are sooooooore.

But it was so much fun. So worth it.

There's just something about dancing. I love it. Not the silly grinding with no rhythm stuff though. That's lame and takes zero talent. I'm talking the salsa dancing, shake your booty (appropriately, of course), fast footwork stuff. The "to hell with trying to be sexy, I just want to dance" stuff.

Now that's what I call a good time.

The problem with going out dancing, however, is that certain people-- namely those with a Y chromosome-- tend to get the wrong idea. When some guys (and I do say some, because not all guys are this bad) see a group of girls move at any faster tempo than a sway, they automatically start thinking about how they should go over and interrupt their good time with a little male companionship.

I have no idea where these ideas come from. As I may have mentioned before, my "sexy dancing" skills are completely lacking. I don't think there's possibly an inappropriate way to interpret The Sprinkler. That I'm aware of.

And yet someone always manages to do so.

Way too many college guys seemed to have skipped class on the day they covered "The Correct Way to Pick Up Women."

My "favorite" is when they come up behind you and just start grinding on you. No hello, no "Would you like to dance?," and almost always no rhythm.

Since when does that ever sound like a good idea?

Oh hey! Maybe she wont notice that I'm all up in her business! Or maybe she'll be flattered that I am completely abandoning all social norms and initiating completely inappropriate contact while she's having a good time with her friends!

So not cool.

Anyway, dancing last night was fun. Constantly running away from guys was not.

That being said, I still love dancing. Probably always will.

I went to bed last night pondering. If only there was a way to solve this predicament...

And then today -- as if in perfect answer to my soul searching-- I found this YouTube video.


I will be practicing this fervently until the next time we put our dancing shoes on.

Creepy boys, you have been warned. 

Friday, January 21, 2011

. . .

"I get up every morning determined to both change the world and have one hell of a good time. Sometimes this makes planning my day difficult." -E.B. White

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Snow Day at OU

A text message from the university woke me up at 6:55 a.m. today. It read "Due to inclement weather, the University of Oklahoma will be closed today."

Naturally, I ran to the window immediately.

Snow?! I love snow!!!

This is what greeted me.

Hardly counts.

I went back to sleep. Maybe it would get better later?

Nope. By now the roads have completely cleared and the snow is patchy at best. I can see the sun.

What a disappointment. I'd rather be in class right now.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Yesterday's Turn of Events

7:30 a.m. -- Wake up. Immediately remember that today is the day I hear back from Teach For America (TFA). Burrow further down in my covers for a second, working to calm my roiling stomach.

8:00 a.m. -- Go to the gym. A rather infrequent event that I hope to turn into a regular Tuesday/Thursday routine. It feels amazing to just up and run for a while. I need cardio back in my life.

11:00 a.m. -- Meet someone at the Student Film Production Club (SFPC) equipment closet to check equipment back in. SFPC responsibilities are officially back in full swing.

1:30 p.m. -- Report to work at National Scholars Office. Pick up kid at the Honors College and walk back to the north end of campus while trying to convince him that OU is awesome.

2:30 p.m. -- Back at the office, I log in to my email address. I've been on edge all day, but I'm not expecting to hear from TFA until the late afternoon, so I don't expect anything.

I'm not emotionally prepared for the first email that greets me.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Open Letter to the Universe

Dear Universe,

Thank you for all that I have been given. I really don't thank you enough. I am blessed.

With Love,

. . .

"Imperfection is beauty, 
madness is genius and it's 
better to be absolutely ridiculous 
than absolutely boring." 

— Marilyn Monroe 

Monday, January 17, 2011

Why I Love My Friends

Brittany: (while looking with concern at her dying bamboo) "My poor bamboo. It's so desiccated."

Me: *snicker* *snicker*

Valerie: "You know, I didn't know what that word meant until about a year ago."

Me: *suddenly confused* "Wait. What do you mean?"

Valerie: "You know, desiccate. To dry out."

Me: "Oh! I thought she meant decimated."

Val: "Is that why you were laughing?"

Me: "Maybe."

Tess: (who just walked in) "What are we talking about?"

Val: "The word desiccate. . . It means to dry out."

Tess: "I thought it meant poop."

Val and Me: "That's defecate."

Tess: " . . . Oh."

Solvitur Ambulando

I'm a worrier. I'm a planner and a worrier to the n'th degree. If there were awards for people who spent the most time thinking and planning for their future, I'd be solidly in the running.

Not that I think it's all a bad thing. I guess I could use less of the worrying, but the planning really has gotten me quite far and has served me well. I don't know if I could have accepted so many of the opportunities presented to me during undergrad if I hadn't planned and worked hard to get me to the place where I had the necessary freedom and skills to accept.

However, while in Chicago I met a new friend who gave me a huge gift. And that gift was the phrase "solvitur ambulando."

"It is solved by walking."

"Problems are solved and/or made clear only by moving forward in practical action."

Nothing in life is reached by planning alone. There's a danger of dreaming and ideating and planning so much that you never put down the pen and start doing. And you'll only get there by doing. Action. Movement. Progress.

So if I don't know where I'm going from here, perhaps the best thing to do is just start walking. Look at the things I am passionate about -- writing, painting, photography, film -- and follow those paths. Tell stories. Share paintings. Be creative.

If I am adamantly following my passions and strengthening my skills in those areas, then the opportunities will follow from there. That I believe wholeheartedly.

It's just that letting go of my iron-fisted control over my future plans will be difficult. It will take a strength and determination that I'm not sure I have.

But I guess, as in all things, solvitur ambulando.

Time to start walking.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Sign of the Times

We used a phone book to start the fire in our fire pit last night.

Our Quarter Rick

The firewood for our house was delivered yesterday morning.

A quarter rick -- plenty of wood for the rest of the season!

Isn't it purty?

For some reason, I pictured an older fellow -- maybe in his late forties? -- on the other line when Val called to order. It made my mental picture of him up in a tree all the more comical.

If I'd known that he was in his early thirties (max), I probably wouldn't have answered the door in my pajamas. Whoops.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Recap of an Adventure

Sometimes life progresses along a straight line, routine and expected. And then sometimes, life throws you a very (very) awesome curveball.

On Sunday afternoon, I got a text from one of the guys on my business team-- and in an instant, the next three days took on a completely different turn.

The text was something along the lines of, "We're taking a road trip to Chicago tomorrow. Want to come?"


Suddenly, instead of heading back to Norman before the winter storm hit, which I'd been tossing around in my mind earlier that day, I was headed north to beat the snow slowly rolling across the south-east. 

Less than twenty-four hours later, I was on my way to Chicago. Headed to the Windy City -- which was apparently named so because of its shady politics, not its nasty weather.

Day 1 - In Which We Follow Through on the Spontaneous Road Trip

Ricks and Tree Houses

My roommates and I have been looking into purchasing firewood, and have been calling to all the various Norman lumber yards for different quotes. After calling all over the place, getting lots of answering machines and a ridiculously expensive quote from one lady, we were called back by one of the businesses.

The man on the other line was immediately very helpful, answering all our questions. He told us approximately how large a quarter rick would be, how long it would last (6-8 fires of 4-5 logs), and how much it would cost ($35 for the wood, $5 for delivery) -- So helpful!

So Valerie called him back to let him know that we wanted to order wood from him.

Val: Hi! I'd like to go ahead and order that quarter rick of wood.
Guy: Oh.... okay... well, uh, I'm actually in a tree right now. So let me call you back when I get down. It'll be when it gets dark.

Bahaha! Seems so fitting.

Monday, January 10, 2011

. . .

Carpe diem.
[Seize the day.]

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Loving Me Some Food Blogs

My newest obsession is cooking blogs. I can't get enough of 'em. I keep finding new ones, reading through them, falling in love and getting really hungry. I've taken to copying all the tasty (easier) recipes onto blank Word documents with the intent of printing them when I get to Norman.

It started out innocently enough. My first love was Pioneer Woman, though I loved her more for her wit and entertaining stories than for her cooking. But I did try a few of her recipes (one of which I have now cooked three times over the break for different people) and I love them.

After Pioneer Woman came The Menu Mama, who is actually an old friend of the family's. Heather has two little kids and focuses her blog on helping people plan for the week ahead, including a grocery list for the beginning of every week (which I think is brilliant). She's also great because her meals rely on ingredients that I could easily find in my own pantry -- no fancy-schmancy spices and impossible-to-pronounce cheeses.

These blogs I admired passively, browsing through and appreciating but not needing.

Then I went to Montana for part of Christmas break and took it upon myself to help my dad find some easy new recipes that he can make on Sundays (and in turn, find some good recipes for myself). And of course, where would you go for recipes except online?

So with that challenge in mind, I went through the links on Ree and Heather's blogs and found Bakerella, Smitten Kitchen, and a plethera of other awesome, delicious, super cool cooking (and baking) blogs.

With all these blogs to browse through, I don't think I'll ever purchase an actual cookbook now. What's the point? It's all online.

Kinda makes me feel bad for the poor publishing industry.

Until I google how to make the perfect brown rice and I immediately get a good fifty or sixty recipes.

From now on, I think I'll just grab my favorite recipes from all these great blogs and combine them in a binder or something. It's better that way anyway, because then it's personalized.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

. . .

An artist's failures are as valuable as his successes.
By misjudging one thing he confirms something else,
even if at the time he does not know what that something else is.
[Bridget Riley]

Friday, January 7, 2011

Losing My Zen

The fastest way to lose all this great inner peace stored up over the break is to start thinking ahead toward the coming semester. Then the illusion of "Oh, I'll have so much free time to be creative because I'm only taking twelve hours" comes crashing down, revealing the behemoth of extra-curricular activities and responsibilities to which I've already committed (and conveniently tend to push into the back recesses of my mind).


I can feel my zen deflating like one of those helium balloons left out in the cold too long.

It's funny, because I do this absolutely every single semester (you'd think I'd know better by now). I start by simplifying my upcoming responsibilities in my mind so they feel manageable. And once I've drawn myself a comforting black and white picture, I look at that and only that -- until a couple weeks before the semester starts. Then, when it comes time to write goals and make plans, all the nuances of all the little things that I'm also committeed to flood in. And I freak out. Stress out. Freeze.

This freezing business is dangerous. For example, I'm starting to get important emails again. Important emails that I really should have replied to today (or yesterday). I should not leave them for tomorrow (or Monday). But the sub-zero-ness of stress has taken me over, and I can't respond.

Or wont.

It's a slippery slope.

My refusal to rejoin the world of the working is just the first step, I imagine. I'll probably progress with alarming swiftness to more dangerous things like running traffic lights, not voting, and stealing purses from old ladies.

Save me from myself!!!

Anyway, instead of doing my work, I continue to blog and read memoirs and take naps. I live in denial that I only have a week and a half until classes begin. Of course, once they do, I'll be kicking myself that I didn't start on all these projects earlier.

Which I really should. Really really really should.

Maybe I should take up yoga. Get some of that zen back. Except instead of chanting "Om," I can slip in a couple extra syllables and say something like "Don't streeeessssssssssss" and "Dooooooo yoooooooouur wooooooooooorrrrrkkkk."

The last one has a nice calming drone to it.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

My Airport Friend

This little fellow seranaded me (beautifully) for a good ten minutes while I sat munching on my delicious, fresh (a rarity!) chicken salad sandwich in the Denver Airport yesterday. When he started, I kept looking around for the source of the tweeting, thinking that maybe the delirium of late-night painting and packing was finally getting to me. But then I looked straight up.

And when I finally found him, I couldn't stop staring. He was a pretty little thing, with snowy feathers and a voice for the stage. No one else around seemed to notice (or care) that he was there. They just kept eating and talking on their bluetooths and checking their watches incessantly so they wouldn't miss their flights. No one paid any attention to the little bird trilling his heart out in the high rafters above their heads.

It was tragic.

I mean, it's obvious that he was able to find a way in, but I doubt he'll be able to find a way out again. So there he sat, trapped inside a huge airport terminal, warbling to harried travelers and irritated fast food workers. No one looked up. Even his tiny last gift to the world was being completely ignored.

A bird dying in an airport-- a modern marvel of metal and concrete where wingless mammals have learned to defy gravity-- strikes me as incredibly ironic.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Notes on Flying

I would imagine that the United States seems like a much smaller place if you're a flight attendant. If you're traveling cross-country three times in a day, it has to lose some of its allure. And magic. Which is a shame.

I've flown my fair share of times (to and from school, etc), and I still love flying. It never gets old, even when I'm half-dead from a lack of sleep and the slow-to-dissipate stress from packing (because I think I'm literally incapable of starting my packing endeavors any earlier than midnight before a 6 a.m. flight. It's inevitable).

But regardless, I'm still in love with flying. I still love the exhilaration of take-off, the thrill of seeing a familiar face in a terminal of strangers, and the inner leaping of my heart when I find that my suitcase fits neatly under the 50 lb weight limit.

I used to want to be a flight attendant like nobody's business. I wanted that cute blue suit, wanted to chat with attractive pilots, and fly all over the country. I still wouldn't mind that, I guess. Especially the flirting with pilots part.

But the way I see it, flying wouldn't be the same if I did it everyday.

Old hat = no more fun.

So I'm sticking to my day job (or will, once I get one). And I'll continue to love flying, and I'll still get enjoyment from being a speedy security check-through-er, and I'll love finding that one restaurant in the Denver airport with fresh, not soggy sandwiches. Ka-ching!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Another Resolution

I was looking through my post about resolutions just now, trying to see if I forgot anything (I did. Add: Call family and friends more frequently), and I noticed that I wrote "my resolutions for the new year (and in part, the new decade)."

Umm... I'm pretty sure going into 2011 doesn't count as the new decade, Virginia. I think that one started about a year ago.

Are you allowed blonde moments when you're a brunette/redhead?

(I guess I also can't decide on my hair color. I'd like to claim that it's just "one of those days," but the hair thing is an ongoing source of confusion. I'm having severe identity issues because of it.)

At the City Brew Drive-Thru Yesterday

Me: "Do you want anything?"
Dad: "Sure. I'll just take a small coffee."
Barista: *crackle* "Welcome to City Brew! What can I get for you today?!" *crackle crackle*
Me: "Um, I'll take a small black coffee and . . .  a tall mint mocha frappuccino with skim milk, two shots of espresso, extra whip cream, and sprinkles if you have them. Thanks!"

Monday, January 3, 2011

Cooking for One

In general, I have very little motivation to cook for just myself. Why go through all the effort if I'm the only one around to enjoy it? I mean, if it's seulement moi doing the eating, my specialties are tuna melts and turkey sandwiches. Nothing fancy.

(My expertise also barely extends at scrambled eggs and Kraft mac & cheese, though I do make a mean french toast breakfast. I hate to brag, but it's the truth.)

So, with that said, I must admit that I feel a bit like a phony right now. All this week, my dad and I have been discussing ways for him to meal plan, store leftovers, and try out new recipes -- and I have no idea what I'm talking about.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

. . .

"The heights by great men reached and kept
were not obtained by sudden flight.
But they, while their companions slept,
were toiling upward in the night."

- Thomas S. Monson

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Montana is cold. Very cold.

Going back to my dad not having a car, it's veeeeeery cold. Freezing, in fact.

And we were walking everywhere in it. 

For example, early yesterday afternoon, my dad and I put on some warm clothes and walked to the bus stop. We were heading down to the YMCA (about nine blocks from my dad's apartment). It has been snowing constantly for the last two days, and we now have at least a foot of snow covering the ground. I dressed as was needed to get me from the front door to the bus. 

But the bus didn't come. I think we probably missed it. 

So -- and this speaks to our intense dedication to working out (or my dad's, rather)-- we walked to the gym. 

Walked. Nine blocks in freezing weather. Literally.

We passed a little ticker-tape sign that read 0 degrees. I repeat, ZERO degrees. 

When I got to the gym, I immediately went to the locker room and took off my shoes. I then spent the next twenty minutes slapping and poking my feet, trying to breathe life back into my toes.

My workout was severely shortened by this effort.

About Me

... A few thoughts to pass the time...