Nothing normal to report. Just life as usual.

Busy weekend. Ran 12 miles in the freezing rain and nearly gave myself hypothermia. Truth. Was too worried about frostbite to take pictures of my frozen extremities.

Took a tour of Knoxville - here we have the Holston Hills Dogwood Arts trail. It was so pretty I'm afraid I drove off the trail accidentally on more than one occasion and had to turn around.

azealeas and purple dangle down - my favorite.

Then, I visited a fire station.

as you are probably guessing, it was pretty boss. oh, and you know how you learn algebra reluctantly in high school because who the hell uses algebra in real life? firemen apparently do! fireman rob attempted to explain how it worked but i didn't pay attention and focused more on using algebra after high school for actual real world application.

After you visit a firehouse you are automatically large and in charge of burning all things so I set fire to a bunch of shit.

I AM THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS

Met a very bitey pig.

nick the biting pig. aparently there were two pigs, but nick kept biting lucy the pig and so they got rid of her (but kept the biter. it's a fool who looks for logic in the chambers of the human heart, yo.)

Wrapped up the whole weekend by finding a five leaf clover.

i am hopeful this is for extra luck because i can't handle anymore drama. i would trade in that extra luck though if the extra leaf meant i could eat all the chili cheese fries in the world and it would make me skinny, not fat.

 

 

Work on that, leprechan. Over and out.

Too many gross words to be on one little package

The other day I found this in friend Amber's car. At first I thought it was a condom wrapper, so naturally my first instinct was to pick it up in case her mother got in the car or something (that's a little gross as well, but there you have it.)

Upon further inspection, I discovered that it was not a condom. It was a package of face cream that had so many gross words on it in succession it baffled the mind.

ew. really?

And shouldn't that be B D for Black Diamond? This is all very confusing. And the moist tightening blemish base is made by a company called Heynature? Heynature. Listenup. Igotsomethingtosay. Use more gross words to hawk your wares.

While they are at it, they should throw in a few words more repulsive words like curd. Or pustule. Or discharge.

MAKE IT STOP.

Heynature. Google "grossest word" and notice that "moist" tops the chart every time. Someone was HIGH and reading the list backward when this was designed is what I'm saying.

Megan Smith, Do-er of Things

One of the suggestions I'm taking quite seriously is to occupy my time, and fill my hours doing healthy things. The usual past times I found soothing in the past really aren't of interest to me right now - maybe never will be again. I had to sew a slipcover recently, and did it as quickly as possible so that the chore may be over rapidly. And I used to love to sew.

So I'm taking classes. And classes. And more classes. To the point where it's becoming evident that I'm a bit of mayhem, doused in chaos sauce. Last night in a class I was asked to introduce myself, giving my name, what I do for a living, and what other fun things I like to do.

My introduction was my name, where I worked, and "I'm 38 and divorcing after 15 years of marriage. I'm trying to all the things I can right now, so I'm taking mindfulness meditation classes, clogging lessons, and this class. Oh, and I'm running a marathon in June. MUST DO ALL THE THINGS." (yes I said that last bit out loud to a room full of strange women)

And I felt a little bit like a lunatic. A frantic lunatic, doing all the things.

But it occurred to me this morning (while running) - maybe there's some sort of rationale to the mayhem. Order in the chaos, that sort of thing.

Mindfulness meditation - MINDLESSLY BE STILL

Marathon - MINDLESSLY BE ACTIVE

Clog dancing - LEARN THIS SKILL

Hoop dancing - LEARN THAT SKILL

So, until things calm down and I find myself smiling again for no reason, I'm going to keep doing all the things. 





i'm a running, hooping, clogging, meditating superhero who can sense a mess being made with supersonic skill

Head, meet desk...

So some flowers showed up at my office the other day with no name on them. I got that knowing "mmmm-hmmm" look from the delivery driver and two co-workers and bewilderedly called four different people to ask if they had sent flowers. I finally gave up and called the florist and was told that I ordered them about six weeks ago for an event.

it's like me from six weeks ago was playing a trick on me from last week. six week ago megan really has her act together if she's doing things like ordering flowers well in advance of events. i'll show that bitch next time!

So I had to go back and call everyone (including one very nice man who I can't really tell but think is interested in dating me*) I'd accused of sending me flowers and tell them that apparently I sent myself flowers some time ago and forgotten all about it.

*I think he is somewhat less interested now that he knows I tend to do things like send myself flowers and promptly forget all about it.

Flowers did remind me to go back and leave another note on my neighbor's door, though, so that was good.

it is important to give credit where credit is due. and i need to buy real tape.

But I was a little disappointed to have to give the flowers away, because I was having a dinner party that night and thought mystery flowers would be a welcome touch.

me and the girls making supper

I was looking for recipes for ravioli and enlisted the help of super chef friend Josh who wrote me a whole new recipe right slap out of his head that involved braising beef overnight. Sidenote - I have discovered my super power! At 3 AM the night ove the braising beef, I woke up out of a dead sleep and went to check on the CrockPot. It had over flowed and grease was everywhere. I wiped it up and went back to bed. I can HEAR MESSES BEING MADE. But don't worry, I will only use my power for good. With great power comes great responsibility.

In any event, the resulting ravioli was amazeballs and the seven of us took care of seven pounds of spare ribs in almost one sitting.

why yes this is rather tasty, thank you.

Sunday would have been my grandmother's 100th birthday. We all got together and went to her church and dedicated the alter flowers in her memory. After the service, we had lunch then we went to the grave to deliver the flowers. It was at this point my cutie patootie niece Lucy announced that she had to go to the bathroom. My brothertakes her into the woods, and after some shrieking, comes out alone with underwear. (hers, not his) My sister in law joins them and the three work on getting things sorted.  I couldn't hear what they are saying but they are obviously giving her the finer points on How A Girl Goes Pee In The Woods 101 because they both keep "assuming the position" for her to practice. You know, legs wide apart, ass in the air, etc. My sister in law goes so far as to lean up against a tree as an alternative peeing method.

Knowledge is Power, ya'll.

Just running away/Here's your sign

Mornings are the worst. Which is odd, and  unusual, because I am a morning person. My mother has a theory that the medicine is all gone by morning, and I therefore wake up often ill-equipped to begin the day. But begin it I insist on... but there are days I just want to run away and hide where no one can find me.

Usually, that's a bad thing. But occaisonally it can be good. It all depends on what I'm running toward.

Actual conversation with Regina Sunday morning after accidentally waking her with my loud noises at the crack of dawn to run a half marathon as part of a two-person relay:

Regina: Good luck today.
Me: I'm scared.
Regina: You're scared? Why? What are you afraid of?
Me: I'm scared I'm going to see the haters at the race. I'm afraid to go out there. I don't know what I'll do if I see anyone. I'm scared.
Regina: Well... if you see anyone, just run.

Which turned out to be excellent advice even though it should have been painfully obvious.

So out of the loft I went, double fisting water and Gatorade. And I waited in the corral in the chilly morning air, trying to make myself as small and invisible as possible. And the race started, and I did as Regina said: I ran.

Maybe it was the dark. Maybe it was the chill in the air. Maybe it was because the morning medicine hadn't kicked in yet. But I couldn't shake the fear. I ran, knowing that the haters hated for a reason, and that reason was me. Knowing, and trying to push away knowledge that they were right. I deserve to be hated. Trying to grasp the fact that I was a hater too, and the biggest hater I have these days was myself. And then trying to push that away. Rinse, and repeat.

Around mile seven is the hardest part of the race. It's a huge hill and very few people make it all the way up without stopping for a breather. About a third of the way up, I saw two women sitting with a sign that said MEGAN on it. Maybe this will help, I thought, I'm going to pretend that sign is for me. So I kept my eyes on it and kept running. And as I got closer, I realized...

The sign was for me.

Friends Sharon and Edee jumped up when they recognized me and cheered me on. This is the hardest part of running; wanting to stop and say OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH, but knowing if I did Edee and Sharon would be like HEY DUMMY IT'S A RACE KEEP GOING.

And voila, the fear was gone. I stopped being scared and thought instead what I would wear to brunch that afternoon. I finished my half in good time, passed off my baton to my partner, Monty, and headed home to get cleaned up.

Here is me and Monty finishing our race.

i went with a black sundress for brunch. no one rocks ridiculous better than i do.

Monty, thank you for asking me to run with you. I needed the push. Regina, thank you for making me leave the loft that morning, and for your words of wisdom regarding races. Edee and Sharon, thank you thank you, more than you know.

And then Jane Austen stabbed a bird



he never saw it coming. cheep cheep! 



Situations people with high anxiety should avoid

I think my new apartment is trying to kill me. Or at a very minimum make me so crazy that I have no choice but to melt into a puddle of insanity where all I do is twirl my hair and chew my lip and try to not think thoughts like "stab that" or "scream real loud" or "more chocolate milk, please." Actually... that last one is ok. And by "chocolate milk" I really mean "wine."

Anxiety is not new to me. I am always anxious. Not crazy anxious, but in times of stress I do chew my lips, twirl my hair, and pick at any flaw on anything that sits on my body until it is a mess. Just ask all my fingernails. Or lack thereof. On a good day, any sort of blemish is fair game, but you throw in stress? Oy. You have a pile of nerves like frayed electric wire - one touch could mean a bad shock.

So yes, the chewing of the lips goes on until sometimes they are bloody. I got an ingrown hair on my belly and I have worried that thing into a scar (and I keep showing it to Regina and going "REGINA. MY BELLY BUTTON HAS A ZIT.") I mentioned before that my fingernails are mostly all gone, and the ones that are left are peeled and ragged. It's not a pretty sight.

My therapist told me to try meditating for just five minutes a day, which is just plain foolishness. My priest showed me a prayer that ended with "if I am to do nothing, let me do nothing gallantly." What the hizzy? Who are these kooks? But someone is obviously paying their salaries, so I thought I'd give it a try.

I tried it in the shower at the gym. I figured that was a mistake but it was the only place I could stand still quietly and be comfortable in the warm water. I also had the good idea that a song on the radio would be about five minutes and I could do a five minute meditation, starting and ending when the song started and ended. The first few times I did this, I did have a hard time pushing out thoughts like "Did I bring panties? SHUT UP BRAIN!" or "I hope there's no runners in my tights. BRAIN! SHH!!!" or "Oh God, what if the next song is Stairway to Heaven and I'm here in this shower for 20 minutes and am late to - BRAIN!!! STOP IT!!! WHY I OUGTTTA.....!!!" But it went fairly well, and so I continuted to try to do this throughout the week, and tried to meditate quietly and calmly in my shower at home just like the normal people do when they reach inner peace and enlightenment or whatever bullshit they call it these days.

But that's when things went wrong. Horribly, horribly, wrong.

The nice staff in our apartment tried and continue to try to make things real nice for me and Regina. They even took the time to re-epoxy all our floors, re-epoxy all our bathroom tiles and re-caulk our tub without our having to ask.

Unfortunately, the shower re-epoxy did not take. And it is peeling. So I stand in my shower. And I do not meditate. I do not wash my hair. I do not shave my legs. I peel the epoxy off the walls. I pull up the drips like candle wax, and strip off whole sheets of clear epoxy in the shape of the tile.

I've been told I really need to get them to re-re-epoxy, but the whole shower is almost stripped, and this would just start the whole process over again. So, yes; apartment you are an asshole out to get me JUST LIKE ALL THE REST OF THEM. Think that hotel in "The Shining" but more mischevious, and less murderous. Got it? There. That's me. That's where I live these days.