And here we go.

I don't have much to say today. So there'll probably be 1000+ words of nonsense below.

We had an insanely busy week. Tonight's the first night since Monday where we don't have anywhere to be or anyone over to entertain. I decided to celebrate by spending the last hour of my life going through a painful amount of painfully terrible photos of Karl and I for our Christmas photo. Which was painful. I ended up editing (terribly) a couple and just ordering ten each from Walmart. I figure if they're the worst thing ever they were only $3.00 and we can always take another. If they're passable then success. They go in the mail/cards. They will not be as good as last year's, let me tell you.

Who do you send your Christmas photos to? Last year we delivered photos along with cookies to some of our favourite people. We also mailed them to a few people we knew we wouldn't see, like Karl's brother and sister-in-law who, BY THE WAY, brought new life into the world this morning bright and early. His name is Michael James and he is perfect. I mean, I haven't heard how many fingers and toes he has yet, but whatever, he's got a head and at least one ear so we're good! I am for realsies an auntie (Aunty? Someone help me out here...) and stoked. In 19 days we get to meet the little guy.

Okay, here's a photo:

The first thing I thought when I saw him was, holy cow, that's his daddy, Christopher. When I showed Mom the picture she couldn't get over how much he looks like Karl. Yep, that child is definitely a Morton. There's also a lot of Natalie in there, too. No question as to who this kid belongs to.

So Christmas photos. Who do you send them to? Family? I feel like that's a lot to ask of people, to put our amature photos of us scowling at each other up on their fridges. I mean, if anyone gets our picture they had better put it up in a place of honour. Because we're really good looking people. Clearly.

Speaking of family, I've been meaning to share this with you folks for ages, but have failed utterly and miserably. My cousin Zoë has made a food blog, Healthy Hungry Student. It's great because she can't eat everything either, although her dietary restrictions are different than mine, and she has a chocolate covered strawberry recipe that I cannot WAIT to try. I'm thinking of bringing them to one of the Christmas things we have going on. If strawberries are even still in season.

I, like everyone else, put up our tree yesterday. It was fabulous. It's been a rainy (but not disgustingly cold) weekend, so doing stuff around home is perfect. All I want to do is knit and watch movies.

Oh, guess what? I've started running again. Hello, Couch to 5k! It is so much easier the second time around. Not only do I have fabulous new shoes, but I also work out on the regular now (I know, who have I become?) so any kind of movement is easier. Last year starting off by running one minute and walking for 90 seconds eight times was agony. This time it's almost fun. Except for when I have to run up hills. No one likes running up hills. If you do, I don't want to know, you psychopath.

Aaaaand speaking of new shoes, I got my Christmas present today. I know it's early, but we decided that my gift this year was a pair of good quality boots so I've been keeping my eyes open for the past few weeks to try and get something nice. Being someone with "athletic" legs (aka, chubby) it can be hard to find boots that don't cut off my circulation and look nice. Today I was successful. They were an investment. And $50 off.

There's something about December that makes me want to blog more. Lucky you.

Absentee Anna and something... different.

The past several weeks have been insane blurs of busyness. Insane in the membrane. I know reading lengthy round ups can be dull, so I promise this will be brief and include pictures of varying levels of quality. Because I'm the most photogenic person that takes the most professional photos ever. Stick with me and at the end I promise to propose we do something totally new and exciting. True story.

So on April 28th I participated in a 10K run. A RUN! My motivation to participate was due in large part to the fact that our team name was "We run elections." It was a play on words I couldn't pass up the oportunity to be a part of.

Sure I didn't run the whole thing but I did it. My time was 1:21:56. As you can imagine I walked a chunk of it, but I finished it ten minutes faster than I had all year, ran that whole first kilometre which was 100% uphill (planners = butts) and didn't die. My training was also practically non-existent. I didn't push myself when I did do a 10K lake run a few times to get prepared. I figured I'd use my gym membership to hit the treadmills on the regular to get the running thing down, but my gym is the upper deck at a pool. I can't run longer than five minutes with overheating and feeling like dying. Heat is not my friend.

Just past the halfway point. I AM THE MOST ATTRACTIVE RUNNER.

It's cool, guys. I survived.

The week after the 10K was kind of a big deal. May 1st was our anniversary and it takes the cake as the least sexy anniversary ever.

I got my first migraine in well over a month on the way to the theatre to watch the latest Tom Cruise flick. No bigs, I'd had some cream in my coffee for the first time since going dairy free and clearly it was affecting me. I popped a Frova and figured in a half hour I'd be back to normal. 

An hour and a half later I got a surprise. Another migraine. UNPRECEDENTED. And unwelcome, to say the least. So I popped another drug and held on through the rest of the movie that suddenly felt eight hours long.

When we got home I crawled into bed after having a little cry and called it a night. At least, I tried. Two hours later I woke up with a splitting headache (read: migraine) that I couldn't sleep through and some intense nausea.

Karl got out of bed, nuked my heat bag, grabbed me an ice pack, and even got me a bowl in case the Gravol didn't kick in fast enough. It wasn't a great night, but without the ice pack I would have probably died or gone to the hospital.

I woke up the next morning feeling hungover (typical) but so very grateful. Sure our anniversary wasn't ideal by any standards, but there's nothing like someone getting out of bed in the middle of the night and refusing to sleep until you're okay to make you feel loved. Karl was so worried about me and did such a good job looking after me. I melted all on the inside. 

I also swore dairy off up and down forever and ever. At least cream in my coffee. What a dink. Because I'm a sucker for punishment I'm going to give a pastry a try in a week or two to see if maybe I can survive the baked version.

Life without cake has been very empty.

And then, you know, we got to celebrate our anniversary celebrating the marriage of two other people we love. That gets its own post.

We took a long weekend to go away for the wedding and it was much needed. The week and a half after were the crazy ones at work.

Work was all sorts of insane this past week. I worked 31 hours between Monday and Tuesday. It was nuts, but my student of Political Science heart was so full.

That right there, folks, brings me to the here and now. As promised, I propose we do something different. Something fun.

A lot of blogs have link ups but I'm not going to go that route. First of all, I know not all my readers are actually bloggers, secondly I am not as committed to blogging as I once was (at least with regularity, I plan to keep my blog until the bitter end) I'm not willing to promise to do something on here that I might not stick to, not to mention making a link up sounds like more work than it's worth, and, finally, I wanted to include something easy and accessible to everyone. Because I'm all about keeping things easy around here.

So here it is. We all have those photos of ourselves that we look back on and cringe at. Sure they're embarrassing and you kind of want to put them away in a cupboard forever, but I challenge you to share them with me on Instagram. Keep it awkward, friends. Do it for me. Besides, there is nothing better having someone tell you how different you look from that awkward photo and then, no matter how bad your hair day, you can feel good about yourself again. If you have more than one photo you feel the need to share, I say power to you.

Your hashtag is #mymostawkwardyears.

This? This doesn't even register on the embarrassing scale. I wear this everyday.

You have your mission so let's go get it done, shall we?

This is going to be a getting to know you trust exercise. As soon as I hit post I'm sharing my own photo. Don't let me down. Trust me; I trust you.

Go. Do. Share.

Keeping up with the changes.

So I started a little series, I like to think, about the changes in my life. There's been some pretty big ones lately and I wanted to keep up with them. Actually, I kind of started this series when I was hoping I would get my new dream job. Well, I did, so that was fun.

Anyway, another change that's been going on is running. I started doing that this fall, right after Thanksgiving, and was doing pretty well. What up, Couch to 5K? Seriously, it was amazing. Within three weeks I went from running downhill for a minute and dying to running for 8 minutes straight in five weeks. 8 minutes was the longest I had ever, in my entire life, run. I've kind of fallen down on the program, never completing the last two weeks which were 28 minute and 30 minute runs. I did the 23 minute runs and then ran out of motivation. 28 is pretty much 23 and there are a lot of hills around my house. I knew I could but I was just getting bored. Way to go, Anna.

Well, a couple weeks ago I started thinking that a treadmill would be good for me. No hills, doesn't end up really far from home, and I could boost my confidence with duration. What an excellent chance to listen to an audio book.

The thing is, short of buying a treadmill, I'd have to go to a gym to fill my running ambitions. And? I hate gyms. Hate. Them.

When I was in England, I got a free membership to the gym on campus. It's was a nice gym (I guess) and frequented by all the ridiculously skinny/rich/attractive (aka all) girls that went to the private school I worked at. There were also some locals that came, too, but it was more expensive than the community gym, so they were freakishly healthy. Me? Not so much. I'm squishy. Not super squishy, but  all around a little soft. My muscles need to be felt for; they do not bulge and or/glisten attractively. If it's bulging, it's certainly not a muscle. More likely it's my lunch.

I went a couple times to the gym there, but mostly felt too awkward and embarrassed to be there. (You may have noticed that awkwardness is a general theme of my life.) Anyway, I didn't like the gym. It also happened to be the place where I taught swimming lessons to kids that could swim better than me. Six year-olds were doing the breaststroke while I paddled awkwardly along beside them. I can swim, but my technique is rotten and I'm not going to get anywhere fast. I really hated that building.

Gyms are also not free. This I know. I actually have a pass to a gym, where I do yoga. Less than $6 a class is a wicked deal. I haven't been for a month or so, but it's a real bona fide gym, full of awkwardly healthy people with glistening muscles. I usually shower before going to class, whereas most of the other attendees are just coming for a cool down from their mega intense step/aerobic classes. They, too, glisten, even though the lighting's dim.

So Karl and I are working our way through Financial Peace and have a pretty stringent budget. There is no part of me that would like to sacrifice my clothing budget just so I can be lazy and run inside on the flatland so price was a really big factor in which gym I decided to join. So was women's only and location. Ideally, the gym would be right next door, never be busy, and cost a dollar per visit. Or, you know, be free.

Well, the best I was finding was $29/month. Not bad, but it wasn't near home or work, and I'd definitely have to drive. It was also definitely not a women's gym, but I figured in the beginning that would be a bit of a pipe dream. Price was the biggest motivator, after all.

Well, in swept my mother. She has a free membership to one of the local pools because she works for the city. Because I'm almost a dependent (living in her basement and such, never mind that I'm married and make my own moneys) I got a membership for $12 a month.  $12. Drop-in is $5.75. If I go twice I'm basically breaking even. Three times and I'm making a profit. I've already been Friday and Sunday so I'm basically a financial guru. I'm not even budgeting for this membership because it can come out of our blow money. And the location? About a five minute detour on the way home from work and ten minutes home. Not that I've convinced myself to bring my workout clothes to work, yet.

There is, however, a drawback to the location. Like I said before, it's a pool. The cardio equipment is all on the upper level, but still in the same area as the swimming area. In other words, it's a tropical sauna in there. I'm also a fainter. Now, all of the cardio equipment have fans pointed directly at them.  Except, you know, the treadmills. There are fans in the ceilings, but only two of the five treadmills have them in remotely useful locations.

The first time I went, I didn't get a good treadmill to fan location. I did after fifteen minutes. The second time I got a good treadmill but still had to walk more than I would have liked. That was Sunday. I was smart and hydrated as much as humanly possible before going. I had to pee when I got on the treadmill and everything. 35 minutes later and roughly 20 minutes of collective running I was a sweaty mess. I'd brought my water bottle, which I never do outside, and had drank half of it, but I no longer had to pee and needed to sit down for five minutes so I didn't pass out from the heat after. I have quite the delicate ecosystem. It's a pain.

It's frustrating not being to go as hard as I want because of the heat, but I figure I'll either get used to it eventually and be able to run marathons in Haiti, or I'll die and it'll be a pathetic story. Then, at least, I'll have a legitimate reason to hate the gym.

I plan to go at least twice this week, you know, t0 acclimatize myself to the conditions. I try to look like I belong and not look directly at any of the skinny, glistening people. I'm not wearing the skin-tight workout wear, preffering the oversized t-shirts and yoga capris with pockets, but it's okay. My hair is a bit of a problem, since it plays a big part in my over-heating. I picked a great time to go for unmanageable hair. Lucky for me, I know what a couple bobby pins can do to it, and, since I'm married, don't really care if I looked like a European soccer playing man. Fact.

Tell me about your gym horror stories. Or love stories, I guess, but then I'm not sure we can still be friends. I also need more audiobook material for the treadmill. Something super gripping and escapist. Go!

I'm that person.

Our budgeting is kicking it up a notch. I know, you love reading about budgeting. Um, who wouldn't? Just kidding. I just thought I'd share with you that even though we got home just before midnight last night from a supplementary budgeting software session how-to it didn't end there. I woke up at 6:10 this morning and rolled over to look at the clock only to realize that not only did I only have less than an hour left of glorious sleep but that I had also spent the entire night reconciling bank accounts in Quicken. In my sleep. Yeah. And then because my brain loves me so much, once I'd finished reconciling our own bank accounts I volunteered to do other peoples'. Subconscious me is very giving with her time.

The best part of all that? While I slept and reconciled until the cows came home it didn't actually accomplish anything in the real, waking world. So tonight I get to reconcile my buns off, too. Good thing I'll watch Castle before bed to cleanse my brain palette. Hopefully.

This weekend I reconnected with my bed and my husband. Before you get freaked out, I'm just talking about sleep. For the first time in practically three months we both got to sleep past seven am. And it happened two days in a row. I'd forgotten how amazing it was to actually be on a normal person's schedule.

Mom met with the surgeon on Wednesday and she's now taking Furlo out in the mornings. Karl and I are now rotating evenings. Let me just say, starting the day without having to pick up massive dog poops is kind of amazing. 

Because of extra sleep and less dog poop in my life I kind of felt like a superhero this weekend, even though I'm coming down with some sickness. Thanks to Echinacea, Vitamin C, iron, and gummy multivitamins I haven't succumbed to germ city yet. It was close on Friday night when I went to bed before 11 because I felt like crap. Saturday morning I woke up more or less refreshed and renewed.

I'm still a touch on the germy side but I'm going to make it through unscathed I think. My yoga attendance and running schedule are going to be taking a bit of a hit, though. This is the fourth or fifth week I haven't gone to yoga but I'm not too worried. I've been diligently running so I feel like that kind of makes up for it. That and getting massages. Totally the same thing, right?

Actually, my running has been put on hold since Thursday. I ran Wednesday night and it was my last under 25 minute run (run ten, walk three, run ten) of my program. Yeah. Saturday afternoon was going to be my first 25 minute run. I was going to do it, die, then go celebrate with birthday cake at a friends' kid's birthday party. Makes sense, right?

I guess I hurt myself during my Wednesday run through too much impact on the right ball of my foot. It's all speculation, but I can't imagine how else I might have done it. By midday Thursday I was limping around the office on what felt like a bruised ball of my right foot. Sports related injury! Since then I've been taking it easy and wearing comfier shoes. 25 minutes will be hard no matter what, and limping through it isn't likely to add to the fun factor. It's almost back to normal now, though. Midday Thursday I also got hit with a case of the super tireds and slightly achy. Because who doesn't want to come down with the sickness right before starting a new job? For the record, I don't do exercise when I'm not feeling well. I power walked to work this year right before I got the flu. I thought I was going to die thousand deaths.

I already talked about my sickness. Because following a logical time line is just absurd. It's Monday, after all.

Overall the weekend was good. I got in more relaxing time than anticipated, and spent my entire Saturday morning knitting and catching up on television. Part of that was planned because of the aforementioned birthday party Saturday afternoon. I opted out of buying presents and instead made a toque for the two year old birthday boy. Which, by the way, blows my mind. How have my friends gone from being pregnant to having two year olds? It isn't logical.

It turns out, giving two year olds clothes isn't as popular as giving new borns or even one year olds clothes. Who knew? I felt kind of like "that person" after everyone else gave Clark (two years old!) toys and I presented him with a questionably sized toque. I have no idea what toddlers heads' are shaped/sized like. Apparently I nailed it. (Answer: Wider than you'd think, but also kind of shallow.) Good thing, too, because I finished a ball of yarn I'd had hanging around for awhile.

Even though Clark ripped the toque off the second his mom put it on him, opting instead to play with his Thomas cake topper, apparently he likes it a lot and wore it today. No big thing. And you know what? I guess I don't mind being the person that gives clothes when what you really want is Thomas the Tank Engine everything. It just means I got to break the bank to buy some Superman wrapping paper. And by break the bank I mean spend $5 on a glorified bag. Totally justifiable. That and I get to watch an obscene amount of Once Upon a Time and Revolution on a Saturday morning. 

(Is anyone else totally blown away that Thomas the Tank Engine is still popular? I was never big into Thomas but apparently he's been around forever. Now that's what I call good marketing.)

I also had a decaf coffee today from Tim's. Decaf coffee is just as potent to the non-caffeinated as the real stuff used to be. Without the brain explosions. I have since crashed. Is it bed time yet?

Today is my last Monday of actually watching Douglas street. Let the countdown begin.

I run because... I hate myself?

Remember how I used to talk about my journey into self loathing? It involved house organizing and baking. Mostly baking. Well, running is pretty much the same. It's a journey into doing things I hate but still doing them because part of me might actually enjoy them. The verdict is still out.

So I've been running lately. It all started thanks to my sister in law motivating to do it and recommending the Get Running app. I love that app, without it I would be nothing. At least nothing resembling a running person. I would be more like a sitting person.

One thing you need to know about me is that I have zero athletic ability. Absolutely none. I have never in my life participated in organized sports. Ever. No track, no volleyball (kill me now), nothing. In grade eight gym class I got 50%. I'm pretty sure that's because you can't fail someone who actually shows up. But a layup? THEY MAKE NO SENSE. Anyway. Running.

I'm about half a week to a week behind where I initially thought I would be in the program. Not bad, eh? Last week I was starting to fear the steady increases in time that I knew were coming my way, and allowed myself a couple days off when I wasn't feeling top notch.

I gave myself the option of Wednesday or Thursday this week to do my biggest increase run so far. I jumped from five minute intervals to eight. I have never in my life run longer than eight minutes. Last night was the day.

I got home from work yesterday and was practically shivering. My desk is like an ice cube tray at the back of the freezer, and my car was cold, too. Go figure. I had to decide between sitting in the shower to warm up or running around the neighbourhood. Since I must hate myself or something I naturally put on less clothing than I wanted and went for my run.

It was amazing.

Without boring you to death, just know that our house is in the middle of a hill. There is very little flat space around us so I'm either running downhill or I'm running up. When I first started five or six weeks ago, I was making sure my agonizingly long minute runs were on the downhill and my minute and a half walks were on the uphill if needed. Running uphill was not an option.

My warm up walk is straight uphill and takes just about the full five minutes. There's a reservoir I can run around if it's light out (which only happens on my weekend runs) which is relatively flat, but last night I just turned around and ran partway back down my hill. Then, about two minutes in, I ran up a hill for a minute.

I'm insane. Who runs up a hill in the first bit of the longest run ever? Crazy people, obviously. I was also running a bit faster than normal, but it felt good. Then I went down a little, then up another, steeper, but shorter, hill. Then down a bit, ran on a little flat, then got to walk for five minutes.

You know what? I could have kept going. That five minutes of walking also felt much longer than necessary to recover. Who am I becoming?

My second run was more downhill and flat, but whereas the flat usually kills me there since I'm so tired already, I didn't even care. I just kept going. I was still going faster than usual. Now, that's not to say I was going fast, it just means that people out walking their dogs weren't likely to pass me as they walked by. Boom.

I even finished my second eight minute run with a minute on a less than enjoyable uphill. Who have I become?

I got home and felt great. Tomorrow morning is my 20 minute run. Since the beginning of the program I have been dreading tomorrow but now I think I've got it under control. Seriously. I must hate myself in all kinds of ways.

One thing is for sure, though: I love that running app. Please don't hate on me when I say this because my reasons are quasi legit, but I'm not crazy about British people. They irritate me. The lady that encourages me throughout my runs is British. And I might even love her. She motivates me to do my best and persevere. It's awesome.

The other key to my running success (?) is what I listen to. I've been listening to This American Life and it is the perfect running soundtrack. If it was music, the beat would distract me and I would constantly be gauging my time by song length. With the podcast, I just listen, smile, and enjoy myself. Sometimes I even laugh like a crazy person. Because only crazy people laugh while they run. There is nothing fun about running. At least... that's what I used to think.

Seriously, who the heck am I?



PS Don't forget about my giveaway. Because I like you and want to shower you in presents. What's not to like?

Of clubs, running, and zombies.

Operation "Clean that Freaking House" (the working title for every single weekend of my life) is going really well. Actually, after the three day weekend it's been going splendidly indeed. If you ignore the fact that I have five loads (yes, there are only two of us...) of laundry to fold and have been completely neglecting in order to knit for myself while watching zombie shows and Glee, our house is basically clean. Clean! That means that the only goal I have for myself this weekend is to fold laundry. Once I'm done knitting my scarf, that is. That, my friends, is the secret to happiness.

I won tickets last week to seem Diamond Rings tonight at a local club. I can count the number of songs I know by him on one finger. I can also count the number of times of been to clubs on less than three fingers. Because I've been 2 1/2 times. (One wasn't really a club, it was more of a pub turned into a club for the evening. And I was wearing full out winter gear. We're talking fuzzy boots and everything. How club-tastic!)

I'm taking my lovely friend Stephanie who has, incidentally, been with me for every other club experience of my life. Go figure. She might be my awkward clubbing security blanket.

The thing is, clubs are out of my comfort zone. I have no clue what to wear. Since it's November, I am fully into the cardigan, scarf, boot, wooly sock, and occasional toque kind of clothing. Because I'm West coast like that. Last time I tried to wear a cardigan to a club I was told to coat check it. Bye bye protective shell...

I think I've got it figured out that I'm going to just wear jeans (woo! pockets!) and a tank top and deal. And by deal I mean feel like an old person. Because 24 is clearly really old. Seriously, when I found out it was an early show (doors at 7, curfew at 10) I might have wanted to click my heels together. Steph may be one of my favourite people, but I might be having a love affair with myself, my knitting, and my television. I guess Karl's around somewhere, too.

Going to bed at a reasonable time tonight is actually imperative to my weekend plans. Even though cleaning is not anywhere on the priority list (neither is making dinner, for the record. Thanks to Twitter, I now feel no guilt in eating bean dip and salsa for dinner. I am freaking addicted to my bean dip. Because I'm awesome and it is too.), tomorrow I have a massage at 11. My second, real RMT massage. Bring it. It's also 80% covered by my benefits. Before my massage, though, because I hate myself, I'm going for a run.

I didn't run on Wednesday like I planned, and haven't since Monday. I figure if I'm not feeling well, running is not going to help or go well. I need to be realistic. I'm really worried, though. I know I'll survive tomorrow's run (once I drag myself out of bed at 9), but it's my first run 5, walk 3 and repeat three times run. Three 5 minute runs. I've done two 3s and two 5s together, but I'm worried that five full days off is going to really kill me tomorrow. I'm also worried because this is the first week my running program steps it up. I stop doing repeats of the same run 3 times in a week. The next run  involves two 8 minute runs (the longest I ever made it to running before. Ever. In my whole entire life) along with one 5. Then, and I cringe to think of it even though I know it's been coming for weeks, is a full 20 minute run.

So that's what's happening with me soon. Pretty much death. It's okay, though, because if I do survive my 20 minute run I will basically be ready for anything that life throws at me. You know, like a zombie apocalypse. Assuming my immune system holds out (which it should because I take a lot of Echinacea and Vitamin C) I'll be able to outrun any zombies that come my way. Even with my slow run those suckers aren't going to get anywhere fast. We also have an impressive stock of toothpaste and toilet paper in our laundry room to barter for protection.

I think I'm digressing...

To recap: I'm going out tonight and am unsure what appropriate wear is (I even thought of raiding my mom's closet for a brief moment until I realized she's even older than I am); I am going to run longer than I want to, earlier than I want to, and do it all in the name of showering before a stranger touches my naked back; I am also going to survive a zombie apocalypse because I know the rules, have laser vision, and can outrun the rotting walking dead.

That is all.

Enjoy your weekend!