what i know about hydration

1. Water is an essential nutrient to help the human body function properly. Clearing metabolic wastes, aiding in digestion, regulating blood flow and body temperature. 

2. I am bad at maintaining my hydration status. 

3. I get yelled at frequently regarding my poor hydration. From various people in various walks of life. 

4. Water should help me feel better. 

5. I forget to drink water. 

6. When I remember I need to drink water, I chug it.

7. When I chug water, it makes me feel sick. 

8. The cycle continues. 

Illuminating. Isn't it?

sick day swag

 Whatever that means. It has been weeks now of being on the couch praying to God and anyone listening that I will please PLEASE feel better soon. Basically I'm trying to stay hydrated [shudder], trying to eat every couple of hours [double shudder], and trying to rest. That isn't so hard. The hard part is trying to rest when your head is positively spinning. 

Thankfully I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow [with an NP, you know I don't go to an actual doctor]. Plus my mom is threatening to come down and cook for me on Monday. Yay yay yay. I'm sick of sitting home alone feeling miserable and trying to stuff myself with a pb&j that just. won't. go. down. All whilst sustaining threats from my coworker. Seriously? I'll be in when I feel better. Thanks?

This is my nightstand. Crackers which kind of go down. Protein bars which make me happy. Gatorade for rehydration. Water for similar purposes. A stress ball for what? Why do I have a stress ball. And the best detail? Yes. That's my work phone sitting on a cracker. 

Now back to trying to "suck it up"

Dear unnamed coworker, I'm never going to get over that rudeness. Love, Megan 

100% not vegan

We aren't vegans anymore.

But we're going to try and eat more consciously.  For example, tonight we had grass fed beef hamburgers.  My soul sang.

We stopped being vegan because Justin hated it.  Also because I started feeling anemic [I think... I've never been anemic before but I felt weak and tired and dizzy and depressed about the food choices in my life.  This was all greatly improved with a 12 ounce ribeye.]

Tomorrow we start work again.  Boobs is all I have to say about that.  Thank the heavenly Father it's only a 4 day week for us.  Minnesota, here we come!

home

Generally speaking, people refer to the places in which they live as their homes. I call my home in Dubuque "home", but I also call my parent's house and Justin's parents house "home." 

In my younger, more dramatic years[....] when distraught I'd often cry I want to go home. And that was always to this place. The A-frame log cabin on Lake Huron. Still when I dream of home, it's here majority of the time. Is that how one qualifies home? The place that you visit the most in your subconscious? 

When will it stop being my home? Where I can relax in peace. I could sit at the bottom of the steps for hours and study the logs that build these walls or watch the waves as they slowly lap against the sand. I look around its sad, gutted walls and I still see the old pictures of us when we were younger. The ghost of my parent's wedding picture hangs in the hallway until I turn to examine it. I can hear the end of the Tiger's game as I drift to sleep, until I realize it is silent downstairs. 

Even if this place won't be here for me forever, I can visit it in my mind whenever I want. Is that the same, though?

I love this picture. It looks like it was taken 30 years ago. 

The view from "my spot" at the table. 

The view of the lake from the dining room. 

Wallpaper on the ceiling people. It's a thing. 

Best mirror for plucking eyebrows or doing makeovers. Ignore my awkward face. Clearly I'm blowing a bubble with my gum. Also, Lady insisted on being a part of this. 

The view from the bottom of the stairs. Already so different from what it used to be. 

Perilous stairs. 

Map of the bay. 

Beach.

We're at the beach for the holiday loooong weekend and I'm so happy about it. This place has been a true constant in my life, although since we cleaned it out last month for the renters it's strangely impersonal and not quite right. I know there's no old cedar chests to go spelunking through for dancing outfits circa the 1940's and no moth-ball-smelling closets to explore for other various fashionable pieces from days of yore. Now it's gutted to its bare house and furniture bones. Its character largely stripped and hauled away to thrift stores, the dump, and my mother's basement. 

I still love it, but it's not the same. My arms feel a little wibbly wobbly about that. I have a hard time with change. Thank goodness there are some things about this place that will never change. Such as the way the house greets visitors with its distinct pleasantly musty smell. Or the friendly, but slightly alarming floral wallpaper in the bathroom. The sound of the waves rolling up on to the sand. And most eerily, the creaks from upstairs. There are many stories from everyone that visits about the presence of ghosts in this house. I know they're true. I'd come back to visit this place too. It's kind of nice being back at Gram and Grandpa's house with them together again. Until I think about it, and then I go back to feeling wibbly wobbly. 

PS, we aren't vegans anymore. Hooray!

feelings

I'm feeling emotional.

And when I feel emotional I want to watch a Harry Potter movie.  Or 13 Going on 30.

And eat weird things that soothe my emotional feelings.  Like chips.  And chocolate chips.  And cake.  Oh I would give my left leg for a cake right now.

And I want to lay on my floor in my underwear.  Because that would show someone.  Them. That I can be ornery and do what I want.  And eat what I want.  And lay wherever I want in whatever I want.  And all those yahoos driving past my house [ps yahoos, the speed limit is 25 NOT 45.] can just stick it in their ear.

Can we go back to chocolate chips?  Because those are probably one of my favorite snacks.  M&Ms are good.  I guess.  If they have fillings like peanut butter.  Or almonds.  But I'd take a bag of chocolate chips over all of that.

All of that being said.  I still feel ornery.  I've been on a mission since I woke up this morning to stick it to the man.  I almost wore jeans to work on a Monday [so not kosher].  I swore profusely throughout the day [pretty kosher...]  I left work a half hour early [I'm unsure of how kosher this was].  Basically  I'm a mess.  Poor Justin.  He has no idea what he's coming home to.

Why is there a fruit fly flying in my face?  Dumb.  I'll stick it to him too.





[If someone could tell me what exactly I'm sticking and to where, that would be appreciated.  I would like to be informed if it is completely UNkosher.  Thank you.]

I don't know if Alan Rickman actually said this.  But if he did, that makes me emotional too.  In like an I want to hug him until he squishes kind of way.