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Sunday, Sunday

27 Nov

Wah wah.  Lops is off skates for a couple weeks.  Suspected meniscus tear.  At least this happened during November so I can heal up in December and jump back in when January comes around.  Regardless of the meniscus.

I told myself I could handle a week without derby, that I didn’t need to go to scrimmage to NSO.  Keeping PJs on until the last minute didn’t help. I ended up grabbing a leftover biscuit from yesterday and running out the door with coffee in hand and NSOing.  Punches had to keep me in line as a box timer, due to my forgetting I was not on the red team and yelling that they needed more people at one point.  Oops.  But it was good to see the faces, and I’ll be back at least one day a weekend to help the NSOs, because they’re rad and I get to see my people.

Just FYI, one biscuit is not enough for the Hummingbird.  So we made some ironically vegan cheese-laden ham sandwich melts when I got home and salads on the side.

I had big plans to take care of oil changes, buying a dog poop scoop, make a 3 day meal plan,yada yada yada.  Instead Denny played video games and I read for 5 hours straight.  But he got inspired at some point when the sun went down to make homemade mac and cheese, which was delicious.  How can anything with Velveeta turn out poorly?  Don’t answer. I can imagine.

Regardless, a relatively uneventful day.  However, on Saturday night, I did get a taste of what would happen should I throw this whole challenge to the wind on a whim.  We went out to El Diablo with Sans Sheriff and had a few drinks, and on his recommendation, ordered a Mitchelada.  Denny was nearest to the bar so I asked him to order for me.  The look on his face was priceless.

Just add a little stubble and it looked something like this.

It read something along the lines of “I can’t believe you just let me down like this.  One night out and you’re throwing our challenge baby out the window.  What the fuck is wrong with you?”  I, knowing I’d just ordered a bloody beer, was incredibly confused as to why I was getting the worst shame face I’d ever seen in my 7 years with Denny.  I had to ask him why to clear up the little hurt cloud forming above his head.  Adorable.

I think it’s safe to say I’ll be sticking to this challenge until the end.

-Meg

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Friends are rad.

26 Nov

I’m gonna say it: there is nothing better than a four day weekend. Except a five day weekend, I guess. Just doing the math, five is better than four. Because, you know. It’s bigger.

A Saturday in the middle of a four day weekend is also great, because I feel that the third day off is when I really start to hit my stride, day off-wise. The third day off doesn’t have the associated horror attached to it that the final day off typically has, and by the third day off you’ve actually realized that this isn’t a typical weekend.

So, for our magical third day off, we had brunch with friends. These were the same friends that we had over for Thanksgiving dinner, so it was nice to see them in a more laid-back setting that involved mimosas and biscuits & gravy.

Not just biscuits & gravy. VEGAN biscuits & gravy.

And it was good! I thought sure it was gonna taste like a cat’s asshole, but I’m learning that vegan food is actually really good if you make it with love and care.

We also bought like ten pounds of oranges so that we could use our juicer for the mimosas. That’s right. We actually used a kitchen gadget that we purchased four years ago. You’re next, rotisserie chicken machine! I’m gonna set it and forget it, alright. Right in your face!

That made little to no sense, but I don’t care. The kitchen gadgets are coming out of the closet!

I know what I just said. I’m going to shout it from the mountaintops!

Anyway. Friends.

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Hello, Glovebox

23 Nov

I was incredibly jealous of Denny this morning as he sauntered off to work where they were serving him breakfast because he’s so damned rad at his job. Lame. At least I’ll get to rub it in his face when my boss brings cupcakes from her local bakery. I had some Kashi style grape nuts with chocolate almond milk. If I don’t get breakfast from my job, at least I got chocolate.

Lunches were leftover fried chicken from last night. I’ve only ever attempted my mom’s fried chicken once before. I would say I’m learning. This time was way better than last time.

Everything was copacetic when I left work to head to a chiropractors appointment. Found out I may have a slight tear in my meniscus in my left knee. Not so copacetic. That a bump from a hematoma on my ass in June will likely have calcified and be solid forever. Not so copacetic. It’s the one part of my body that I used to feel like crap about and then was starting to come around to. Vain, vain little creature.

The glovebox is the new fridge. For crazy people.

Going to IKEA with Denny to buy a new bed and frame with cold, hard cash in hand? Fucking awesome. We didn’t plan well(see previous post) and ended up tying the bed to the car with about 10 pieces of twine from the stash IKEA gives out at the loading zone. Also add in me sitting in the back seat since we’d laid the front seat down to fit the frame, and, concerned that the twine would be cut by closing the door on it after a test run, had all the windows down and twine running through them. I would like to note that without Denny’s awesome knot skills, we would have been fucked royally.

It took almost everything I had, and then Denny helping back me up, to not say screw it to this challenge for one night. I had eaten my lunch at 12:30, my gas tank was running empty starting at 4:00, and it was now 7:00 All I wanted was to pull into the nearest restaurant and grab an appetizer, fries, anything to fill the void. I need food constantly. Denny calls me the Hummingbird because of how fast I metabolize my food and need more. My solution is going to be throwing snacks in the glovebox. I did this for a while in Durango until I got sick of my particular snacks. Time to bring it back, for sure.

After a 45 min drive from IKEA home, heat blasting, windows down, and both of us praying for light traffic on backroads, we jumped through the car windows and immediately chowed down on snacks at home. I don’t think I even let the dog out before opening a bag of potato chips leftover from another snack attack. After we got everything inside, Denny started putting the bed together and I headed to the store for Thanksgiving groceries and a frozen pizza.

Lesson learned: There must be snacks in the glovebox at all times.

-M

Day four: Breakfast is better than anything else

20 Nov

That’s right. I’m not afraid to shake things up and go against the status quo. I’ll just come right out and say it:

Breakfast is the greatest thing on the planet.

Breakfast. It's not just for...um. Breakfast anymore.

You heard me, Mr. Lunchy McDinner of Dessertville, USA (I know you read this blog). Breakfast will always be better than you and your stupid steamed carrots.

Why do I love breakfast so much? Well, jeez. Let’s dive in and figure it out. Number one reason: it tastes delicious. I love, love, loveloveLOVELOVELOOOVELUUUURVE me some eggs. Eggs are fabulous things. Honestly, any meal that incorporates eggs into it (I’m looking at you and your sexy ass, Korean dolsot bibimbap) gets a pass in my book. Also, eggs add protein, which is important when you have to maintain an extremely high amount of muscle mass, like I pretend to.

Second reason: maple syrup. It comes from a tree and tastes like heaven. It’s like mother nature is making sweet, passionate love to my mouth, possibly using a maple tree branch to consummate the union. I’m quickly realizing that my first and second reason both revolve around the fact that breakfast is delicious, which might not seem like much of an argument, but that’s not my problem. It’s your fault for not immediately agreeing with me, Mrs. Doubtfire.

Robin Williams' Mrs. Doubtfire, who was very loosely based on the real Mrs. Doubfire, who was a gigantic mean old bitch.

That’s right. To be precise, her full name is Mrs. Freethinking Scofflaw Doubtfire-Cynic. It was an arranged marriage, and she decided to keep Mr. Cynic’s last name, as well as the hyphen. She thought it’d be easier that way. She drove him to an early grave, thanks to a mixture of nagging, scoffing, and his own predisposition towards heart disease.

My third reason also has to do with the wonderful taste of breakfast: specifically, biscuits. I can’t make them from scratch, but I am willing to try, if anyone has a recipe. Gravy is a perfect accompaniment to biscuits, and leads directly into my next reason:

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