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Aug
24th
Sun
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Some things are finally, finally coming together. *praise hands emoji*

Some things are finally, finally coming together. *praise hands emoji*

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This week has been for

Course prepping and zucchini butter and painting and finally starting to watch The Sopranos and finding out the old piano prof you worshipped is auditing the one class you’ve never taught and date nights with your person and getting wood stain all over your hands and getting bitten to high heaven by mosquitos.

And spending an inordinate amount of time anxious and worrying, but let’s focus on the good things, eh?

Aug
19th
Tue
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Things

(-) I am a bundle of stress and anxiety lately—house issues, money issues, body image issues—that I just can’t seem to snap out of, hence my protracted absence from Tumblr. Sorry, guys. I’ve just been down on myself lately and that makes it impossible to log in and see everyone else kicking ass. It’s juvenile and it’s petty but it is what it is. Classes start in a week and I’m hoping against hope that some order will give me some semblance of purpose.

(+) We bought a car yesterday, since mine gave up the ghost long before we left Bloomington. It’s a bright blue Prius-C and I’m goddamn in love with it. Oh and her name is Leslie Knope.

(+/-) I just can’t get a handle on my eating and boozing lately, and I tried on work clothes the other day and—HOORAY—nothing fits. But I’ve been mindful so far this week. And I drove Leslie over to the university gym today and did my DIY trekking workout for about 50 minutes. Baby steps. Once my semester schedule is firmer I can figure out a time to work out nearly every day. The biggest battle right now is trying not to feel like a failure.

(+/-) Michael’s family is a year+ deep in cleaning out his deceased (hoarder) (no really) grandfather’s house and asked us if we’d like some things. We went by to pick up some bookcases, and I also fell in love with his dining set. It was in SRS need of help—lots of scuffing, scratching, and water damage—but it’s that beautiful midcentury style that is my absolute favorite. I’ve been at work for countless hours already with a power sander, which is the shitting most tedious work I can think of. I’m almost finished with the first overall sanding, then I need to repair the larger water damaged sections, sand (medium), sand again (fine), tack cloth that shit, stain, poly, and then figure out the material to reupholster the chairs (the wood is in good shape, thank FSM). It’s been a monotonous project but I know I’m going to be so happy when I’m done. We’ll not only have a dining set (we’ve got one on loan that is decidedly not our style), but a really nice one that we never could have afforded otherwise. Sweat equity is nearly always worth it.

(+) I finally finished my “misandry” pillow. Now to pack it up and ship it off as a housewarming present.

(-) School starts soon. Scurred. Teaching a class I’ve never taught before. Meep.

Aug
10th
Sun
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Sunday (no) Funday

Melodramatic, meeeeee?

I jest. But only sort of. Because basically Michael and I work on the house every shitting day and we’re goddamn tired of it. And every time we think we’re done running into bumps and quirks (like Ol’ Sparky, the old washing machine electrical cord in the bedroom closet that showers you with sparks if you move it) there’s another one, like discovering that your basement will take on four inches of water if it rains too hard. That was last night around midnight. Fun times! All the time! Never stops! Home ownership is exhausting, y’all. AND WE DON’T EVEN OWN A HOME.

Bygones.

I got up this morning with the intent to go to the gym. Michael drove me on his way to the grocery store, at which point I realized they aren’t open on Sundays. Oops. So he drove me back and I ate granola, drank coffee, and watched Portlandia on Netflix. (For the record, that is always > gym. And that’s why I’m a bad fitblr). 

And then I spent the rest of the day internetting, photoshopping, and providing moral support for Michael. Can we take a moment to talk about what a champ he is? He basically stripped this entire bathroom of two layers of wallpaper and (at least) two layers of paint on his own.

So it’s basically a disaster area right now, and the next step is to make sure all the adhesive is removed, spackle to smooth out rough edges (old paint on plaster, y’all. It’s a bitch), and sand, sand, sand. We’re going to have to remove the molding to paint because the wallpaper starts beneath it (…) so that’s going to be fun. Basically working on this house is killing my love of old, quirky houses KTHX.

Anyway, once that was finished, I set out for a run. Like, outside and everything. INORITE. I finally found a path with sidewalks and where I felt like I actually could safely run. And the upswing of last night’s flash flooding was that the temps stayed in the 70s all day, so I was able to go out around 4:30.

And it was…difficult. I made a 3-mile loop and ran 2.5 of that, with stops for traffic lights. South Carolina humidity, you guys…jfc. I know I basically grew up in this area of the country but I never ran when I lived here, and essentially avoided the great outdoors from the months of May to October. And the humidity just drained me today. I’d planned to go for four miles, which would have taken me out to the city park, but I made the right call not to be a hero. Another time, likely when summer has fucked off.

But one of neighbors planted a bamboo forest in front of his/her house, so that’s cool, right?

And now we cook, eat, drink, and watch Parks and Rec. So say we all.

Aug
9th
Sat
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Bet you’re jealous of our Saturday plans: stripping a wallpaper and paint sandwich off the bathroom walls. People not living in your forever homes, can we all just agree to stop half-assing home improvement? Pretty please?

Bet you’re jealous of our Saturday plans: stripping a wallpaper and paint sandwich off the bathroom walls. People not living in your forever homes, can we all just agree to stop half-assing home improvement? Pretty please?

Aug
8th
Fri
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Ohhhhh you guys. We went down to the cabbage patch today and picked out our baby. She’s our first and I can’t stop swooning over her. Due date: August 29. 😍😍😍

Ohhhhh you guys. We went down to the cabbage patch today and picked out our baby. She’s our first and I can’t stop swooning over her. Due date: August 29. 😍😍😍

Aug
7th
Thu
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Thursday Three

1. 

Between moving, unpacking, traveling to NY, and trying to get everything sorted out with our jobs, I’ve been a big, squidgy ball of stress and bad eating habits. And obviously how I look and feel has had a tremendous impact on my mood (read: permagrump). But since we’ve been back from NY I’ve eaten much more mindfully, though let’s be honest: that shit is hard. And it will always be hard (for me). But it’s time. And because it’s hot as fuck all the time and my neighborhood is nothing but hills and no sidewalks, I walked to the nearby Anytime Fitness to get a 7-day trial and see if it was worth it to pay to have a gym nearby when I get access for free through my job (answer: it’s not). I ran three easy miles. It is something.

2. 

Currently making my way through this gallon-sized bowl of watermelon. Considering fashioning a makeshift feedbag to strap to my face. SO GOOD. But seriously. That is the yield of half of the damn melon. A watermelon has a whole lotta watermelon in it, y’all.

3. 

This person got married and it was amazing and she was SO BEAUTIFUL and there was way too much food and drink but so much laughter, dancing, and love. How do we not live in the same city anymore? I still can’t process it.

Jul
27th
Sun
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Moving is a strange thing. 

It seems to be the kind of singular moment in time that is somehow both entirely linear and uncannily circular. On the one hand it is a moment of transition—new opportunities, new home, new life. One moment of likely many like these on one’s meandering path. 

And you feel the thrust of this linearity, the inevitable pull forward as you pack your tchotchkes and your memories, as you drag Sharpies across cardboard boxes. Slowly changing your apartment from a home to a place where you sleep before you go to your next home.  But then you finally arrive at the moment where you’re faced with an empty apartment and you can’t help but think how familiar this feels, how you’ve been in this moment before, when you first walked into this empty box and faced the joyful task of turning that box into a home. 

But you’re at the end of that circular moment, not the beginning. The apartment, for all your ardent cleaning, still bears the mark of you, of your five years of life there, in scuff marks and scents and cat hair that will not come out of the carpet no matter how many times you vacuum. 

And you watch your partner travel the perimeter of the living room with the vacuum crevice tool, trying to extract the last little bits of you from the space. And even though it’s no longer your home, you realize how indelibly your life has been marked by this place and its people. 

Goodbye, Bloomington. See you soon.

Moving is a strange thing.

It seems to be the kind of singular moment in time that is somehow both entirely linear and uncannily circular. On the one hand it is a moment of transition—new opportunities, new home, new life. One moment of likely many like these on one’s meandering path.

And you feel the thrust of this linearity, the inevitable pull forward as you pack your tchotchkes and your memories, as you drag Sharpies across cardboard boxes. Slowly changing your apartment from a home to a place where you sleep before you go to your next home. But then you finally arrive at the moment where you’re faced with an empty apartment and you can’t help but think how familiar this feels, how you’ve been in this moment before, when you first walked into this empty box and faced the joyful task of turning that box into a home.

But you’re at the end of that circular moment, not the beginning. The apartment, for all your ardent cleaning, still bears the mark of you, of your five years of life there, in scuff marks and scents and cat hair that will not come out of the carpet no matter how many times you vacuum.

And you watch your partner travel the perimeter of the living room with the vacuum crevice tool, trying to extract the last little bits of you from the space. And even though it’s no longer your home, you realize how indelibly your life has been marked by this place and its people.

Goodbye, Bloomington. See you soon.

Jul
26th
Sat
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I don’t think I ever shared the fruits of my be-a-big-ol-bitch-and-don’t-give-a-shit-ness: four tiny swallows, whose parents and human benefactress worked tirelessly to stick it to the haters so their fluffiness could be brought into the world.

I don’t think I ever shared the fruits of my be-a-big-ol-bitch-and-don’t-give-a-shit-ness: four tiny swallows, whose parents and human benefactress worked tirelessly to stick it to the haters so their fluffiness could be brought into the world.

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BUT REALLY THO.

BUT REALLY THO.