megansicle

If I moved back to Michigan right now I would probably die.  Don't get me wrong.  If someone handed me a plane ticket right now I wouldn't hesitate, but I would still probably die when I got there.  From the cold.

It would be an ironic way for me to go if you think about it.  

I'm just sitting here bundled up in layers on my couch in Hawaii pondering whether I should grab a blanket.  I checked.  It's a brisk 76 degrees out.  I call bullshit.  It feels more like 60 degrees.  And then when I listen to myself I realize how ridiculous I sound.  

So congratulations to everyone in the mitten state right now because I sure as hell couldn't handle this winter.

time to write a sitcom? andy? amy?

Will & Grace is just as entertaining now as it was a decade (give or take) ago.  

Just wanted to put that out there.

healthy and happy

2014 is the year of healthy decisions!  I have thus proclaimed it so!

Okay, so I got a month's head start.  That's even better, right?  Plus, let's face it, New Year's resolutions are usually full of shit anyways.  I don't want to make resolutions.  I prefer healthy decisions.

So I've tried to remain as consistent as possible about the gym.  Sometimes it's better than others and obviously something is better than nothing, but it's difficult to get into a routine with my work schedule.  I tried going at night after I'm pau, but my foot is sometimes already killing me at that point.  (I failed to mention I discovered I have a torn 2nd metatarsal after a doctor's visit about 2 months ago.  That's why I've been in gradually more pain for the last year and there's really nothing they can do other than surgery.)  After my managing shifts I'm just too pooped and, honestly, I usually desire an alcoholic beverage or two after those shifts so the point is kind of moot anyways.  I write those two days off as "freebies."  The other obstacle is not having a car.  Going to the gym can't be something spontaneous for me.  I have to plan it out.  Plan my day out.  When do I work?  When is the bus?  Do I have time to go and still be ready for work?  Should I just pay the money and cab it?  Etc.

At the same time, I no longer hate it.  I don't necessarily enjoy it, at least not in the hedonistic sense of the word, but I get into it.  I can drive myself and run longer.  I push myself rather than just doing the minimum and getting the hell out of there lol.

Another milestone for me would be attending therapy.  It's been a while in the making.  My anxiety has increasingly become more overwhelming so I inquired with HMSA to see what the coverage was like. It was pretty damn good so there was not much argument to be made there.  It's been almost 2 months now and I guess I'm still on the fence.  Not that it hasn't helped to talk certain things out.  I can see improvements.  At the same time my cynical nature scoffs at the reading material she provides me with.  Pretend I'm a tree and imagine my roots?  Talk to my inner child?  You've got to be kidding me?  I don't do psychobabble bullshit.  I'm not a tree.  I'm not a child.  Enough said.

At first it was such a relief to hear that so many of my personality traits or characteristics were common for people with anxiety.  It was reaffirming.  I felt like I belonged or made sense.  And now, a month and then some later, I feel like I'm typecast into that mold.  Anxiety or not, I'm still me.  I'm unique.  I'm not in a textbook somewhere.  Yes, certain things about me may fit that textbook definition.  I have control issues.  I'm a perfectionist.  But knowing that about me, knowing that I have anxiety, does not sum me up.  

I'm gonna stick with it for now.  After all, the woman is a career counselor and, Lord knows, I need one of those.  But I don't need therapy sessions for someone to tell me what I'm like.

It goes hand in hand.  Making changes because they're healthy is just as important as making changes because they're unhealthy.

Here's to a new year!

operation pink glittery elephant is successful!

Mike is my hero.  

I guess I contributed as well.  I did the necessary field work and he made the necessary phone calls.  We make a great team apparently.  

Kona would have come through had I called that evening.  Supposedly a lady had shown up to their store right before close and bought all 19 elephants.  I have no idea why she wanted 19 pink glittery elephants, but I'm not judging.  After all, I'm the one that was searching all of the Hawaiian islands for one of these suckers.  

Did I mention they're adorable?

How was I to know that would happen?  Seriously, what are the odds?  (Although with my luck, I should have known.)  I guess I just considered how my workplace functions and assumed there'd be a total lack of communication between whoever took the phone call that evening and the person that would have to ship it the next morning.  Better to wait until the morning so the same person would be taking care of my box o' elephants.

Well, clearly I was wrong.  Not to worry though, California came through.  I'm still getting my elephant.  Actually Mike ordered me five elephants.  They were on clearance and, considering my recent talent for destroying wine glasses, he correctly assumed some back-ups weren't a bad idea.

Only downside is the lack of closure.  After all that trouble I can't even hang the sparkly guy up.  They just all got boxed up with the Christmas decorations until next year.  

Bummer.

fucking forks!

Cutlery has declared war against me, specifically my feet.  And by cutlery, I mean forks...so far.  

The first incident happened almost two months ago.  It was a normal day at work and then I dropped a salad fork.  Tines down.  You see, some of our salad forks are actually slightly sharpened at the end of the tines.  So imagine a miniature (dirty) pitchfork plummeting toward my perfectly pedicured toes during the middle of a busy shift.  

It hurt.  Not like a bitch, but enough.  I gasped and I kept moving because I had no option.  It was busy.  I looked down at my feet and there was blood.  A significant amount of blood.  And no option to slow down.  

That's a brief summation of the actual event.  I had no choice but to be brief as I had 3 new tables to greet and absolutely no assistance.  I slapped a bandaid on and cleaned it later.  For those of you not in the service industry, when your server goes missing for what you imagine is half an hour, just keep in consideration that maybe she's going pee or just possibly attending to a pitchfork wound.  So, basically, fuck off and relax.

I still have two tiny tine-hole scars in my fourth toe.

And then NYE happened.  

I was merrily going about my business and then POW!  

Instant pain.  I chucked something against the wall in reflex and I believe screamed an obscenity.  This time it was unexpected.  (Not that I expected the first incident, but at least I could watch it unfold in slo-mo before me.  Not the same wtf moment.)

Then I looked down.  There in the rubber kitchen mat, stuck propped up at a 40 degree angle, was a dinner fork.  It was like a medieval style weapon set out to guard the moat and waiting for approaching enemies.

Like my foot.

the pink glittery elephant

I have breaking news.  There was regretfully a Christmas casualty today.  I was taking down the tree.  Simple enough, right?  It's well past New Year's.  It needed to happen.  And then...

It all happened in the blink of an eye.  (No cliché intended.)  Actually no, I take that back.  It was more like slowmo.  Tragic, but inevitable.  I'd like to tell you that it was a family heirloom.  Or super expensive and exotic.  Truth be told, most of the Christmas ornaments that I've collected over the years remain in Michigan.  I guess it was never worth it to transport them across a continent and an ocean, especially since we didn't even have a Christmas tree until last year.  The handful of actual ornaments I have here mean a lot, I suppose.  At least compared to the generic shatter-proof Walmart fill-ins (some of which I've managed to pathetically personalize in the cheapest of creative means) that occupy the rest of the branches.  Mike and I have already created a tradition in which we annually purchase our ornament for the year.  Plus, I have always added certain items that speak to me, for whatever reason, to my collection.  He actually doesn't seem to grasp this yet.  Then again, he doesn't know what Christmas treasures are stored in Michigan just waiting to adorn our future (and hopefully real) tree someday.  But when we surveilled the aisles of Pier 1 earlier last month I could not help myself.  And, to my benefit, he watched that reaction.

It was a little pink glittery elephant.

I have no explanation as to why a pink glittery elephant ornament grabbed my attention so vehemently, but I saw it and wanted it and Mike knew there was no argument to be made.  And secretly, I think he liked it too.  So although we agreed that it was not "our" ornament for the season, it was going on the tree.  And there it stayed until today.

I was careful.  I remember reminding myself to be careful.  And then there was tinsel.  It snagged somehow and I was caught off guard.  It flung a little bit.  I think I bobbled it for a moment, keeping my hopes up and then CRASH out of nowhere.  Beyond repair.  My little pink elephant, precious even though bought at Pier 1 under $10.

In all honesty, I didn't realize how attached I was until it's face was smashed into a thousand glittery pieces.  I was heartbroken.  I broke the news via text to Mike and apparently he was attached as well.

The hunt has been on all day.  There are none left on the island so I think I might get one shipped from Kona.  It says online that they have 19 available.  

When initiating my search I told the Pier 1 employees that I had to replace it cause my 3 year old daughter had picked it out.  She apparently loves elephants and her favorite color is pink.  I lied cause I'm a grown woman that felt silly trying to desperately search for an ornament that is $1.68 on clearance.  And I also secretly enjoyed pretending that I had that little girl that loves elephants and the color pink.

Let's keep our fingers crossed for Kona to come through.

And for someday having a 3 year old daughter like that.