On Friday, I wrote these words on my other blog:

I woke to the crackle of thunder, for the first time in years. It boomed me back to Oklahoma. These beating skies were my white noise in the turbulent place I call “home”.

I’m over a thousand miles from there now, in a quiet and rested place. Tom lies next to me, I could reach out and touch him but I’m frozen in place. Our bodies sink back into the mattress, slowly knowing that everything is okay. Hoping.

They talk, joke, on TV about nuclear war.

Waking up to a bomb is unnerving, but we are Americans and our ability to shake off the danger is strong.

I roll over, my heart beat slows. I fall back asleep and dream I’m standing in a wheat field. In the Great Plains, you can see ahead of you for miles. The threats in the distance dance like twisted fairies, swirling into a dizzying twister.

What I thought were just words in response to a Five Minute Friday prompt turned out to be a foreboding.

It was a wet, sticky morning, a windy and humid afternoon. I spent the day feeling restless, wanting to get out of the house. When Tom got home from work, we left with plans to eat dinner before going to meet friends for a birthday party.

On our way there, my dad called to tell me my grandpa had taken a turn for the worst: my worst fear for the past year realized. It didn’t seem real.

I called him, in case I couldn’t make it home in time, and in the shelter of the Carnegie Library I said goodbye. He passed away in his sleep later that evening. He was ready to go.

I’ve written many times about my love for this man, and in the middle of my grief I’m unable to express it properly now.

I feel a shift in perspective. It’s like when I was in first grade and my teacher caught me squinting in the back of the classroom. A few short days later, and I had my first pair of glasses.

The world looked so different, clearer and yet more ominous. I’d had no idea I was missing out on all these images and realizations until the moment I put on those glasses.

There was an adjustment period, where I accepted that what I was seeing was now my actual reality. It took a while for the cruelty to wear off, to feel safe again.

But I did, and I will again.

I’m in Oklahoma until Wednesday. Yesterday we spent the day together as a family making funeral preparations and just enjoying time spent with each other telling stories about a great man.

Before he went, he told us not to be sad, and to suck it up and move on. Tough advice from a man who was loved so much by so many, but we’re all trying to grant him his last wish and laughing as much as we cry, if not just a little bit more.

First I have a story, and then a thought.

Last night, I had specific plans. After a day of sitting in boring conference lectures and eating four desserts at lunch (desserts are the best part of catered meals. fact.) I wanted to get some activity in my life. I just got some cycle shoes for spin and needed to buy cleats and have them installed, so Tom and I set out for a cycle shop about a half mile from our apartment.

Because I can’t read maps on my phone, we started out in the wrong direction, but eventually turned around and headed the right way. Three-quarters of a mile later, we arrived at the store – only to find that it had moved.

So we walked toward the new location, which just so happened to be right around the corner from our apartment.

Basically, we just walked in a big circle. That was cool though. It was a nice day and it felt good to stretch my legs.

So we went to the store, got the cleats, chatted with the nice bike salesman about bikes I can’t afford (I really want one) and left. I had planned to go to the gym after to lift weights, but we just so happened to be right next to a bar we’ve been wanting to check out.

We waffled back and forth. Gym and health or booze and laziness?

Of course.

Hogo is a cool joint. It’s owned by Tom Brown, who also owns Passenger next door. It’s a rum bar, with a lot of creative Tiki bar worthy creations, but set in an unassuming dive bar atmosphere.

There’s also a painting of Billy Murray as Steve Zissou on the wall, which really excited Tom.

He was sniffing my neck. Kind of erotic.

Anyway, we had drinks and snacked on delicious pimiento cheese and spelt lavash. The food menu changes often at Hogo, with different chefs rotating in to create a special menu. The food was reasonably priced, which offset the slightly high prices of the drinks. Cocktails in DC tend to be expensive though, so Hogo wasn’t over the top price-wise.

After our second cocktail we debated whether or not we should go to nearby Acadiana to continue the evening, but somehow a voice of reason persevered and we wound up going home to eat home-cooked food and watch House of Cards.

As I was typing this little story about my typical lack of willpower, I got to thinking that it’s funny how much more willing I am to tell people about my “bad” behavior than it is to admit when I do something “good”.

During a recent meeting with the reverend who will be officiating our wedding, I was asked to tell the story of me and how I wound up engaged to Tom. Before I even knew what I was saying, I launched into my life story – focusing mainly on the bad times, my bad choices, and the flaws of my personality. I admitted to him that it was very hard for me to say good things about myself.

I do this both in my writing and in conversation. I have no problem telling people the big mistakes I’ve made in life (even though I subsequently feel like shit because I assume they think I’m a terrible person as a result) but rarely say anything nice about myself.

On this blog, I’m much more likely to write about a crazy weekend where I eat too much and stay out too late over a great workout I had (I’m actually pretty fucking fit if you want to know the truth, even if I am still chubby), or a successful moment I had at work or in my writing pursuits.

I think part of this is my people pleasing nature. I am willing to tell you how much I suck at life, knowing that it will probably make you feel a little bit more together in comparison. How nice of me, right?

Additionally, I think I just really know how to accept myself despite my flaws and weaknesses. I kind of wish more people would do it. If you can admit the worst parts of who you are, then you have nothing to hide – yes?

But as much as I think that’s great, I wish I could also be honest about the things I like about myself. I wish, more than that, that I could be more open to accepting my positive attributes and successes instead of just waving them away as no big deal.

Not that I think I should go around constantly telling people how awesome I am. That would be annoying. But maybe I could learn to accept a compliment? Or perhaps I could admit if I did something and felt really good about it?

It’s something to work toward.

So we went from rum to self-acceptance. Totally logical in my book.

Tom and I buy a lot of group deals. While some of them have been disappointing, I like to think that we generally pick good ones. And even though we probably don’t save all that much money, it feels good not to pay full price for things.

One of my personal favorite deals to buy are the ones for brunches. Generally, you get a really good price for two entrees and often unlimited mimosas or bloody marys.

Saturday we used one such deal – brunch for two plus unlimited boozy accompaniments at Ulah Bistro.

These deals tend to be good bets because I love brunch, and brunch food is relatively easy to get right. Also, you usually get to pick from any entree on the menu so you’re getting the same dishes you’d have access to if you were paying full price.

I will say that brunch buffets should be avoided at all costs, no matter how good the deal. They’re just never that good, in my experience.

We opted for bloody marys at Ulah instead of mimosas (instant headache), and they were great. So many places add a bunch of unnecessary stuff to their bloody mary (horseradish, huge chunks of pepper, clam juice – not okay), but this was a tried and true version with a great amount of spice. We stopped after two. Unlimited or not, there’s only so much tomato juice I can handle.

The coffee was also quite good. Very important for a brunch.

Tom and I split two entrees – the huevos rancheros and the breakfast burger.

Huevos rancheros are my favorite brunch food. These were really good. Not mind blowing, but they did everything right and I was happy.

The burger was special. Anytime you top something that’s already delicious with a fried egg, you come out a winner. I didn’t like the bacon though. I’ve come a long way since my days of hating bacon, but I don’t like the really thick and chewy kind. Other than that, this burger was on point.

The restaurant was very lively on a Saturday morning, and the service reflected that, but our server was really nice and helpful. Overall, we had a great experience.

I’d like to go back to Ulah Bistro on a Monday night for their $20 three-course dinner and half-price bottles of wine. Sounds like a fabulous way to kick off a week.

Spring tries to kill me every year. I don’t know why it hates me when I love it so much. But despite the raging allergies, I am filling up with the lightness and beauty of the new season.

Because winter can seriously suck it.

Friday night, Tom and I went on a 2- hour cruise on the Potomac. We’ve done several of them, through various group deals, and it’s always a nice time.

The picture on the right is some sort of illuminated flower, but I thought it looked like the sun blowing up.

Speaking of the Flaming Lips, I’m having a really hard time with the new album and the seemingly new Wayne Coyne. Did anyone see their performance on Letterman last week? The baby thing was just not okay. I hate weirdness for the sake of weirdness. Usually Wayne is weird in a sensible way, but I just didn’t enjoy that at all. And all the commercials? Is he having to pay Michelle some big settlement or something? Why the commercials, Wayne?

I haven’t listened to the full album yet (Tom just informed me it’s streaming on NPR but I’m sadly without headphones at the moment), so I’m not passing judgement on the music, which I may even like quite a bit since it’s supposed to be full of melancholy, and I love me some melancholy (read a good review of the album here). I’m just not sure that the performance vibe is doing it for me thus far. I could handle a stoic Wayne, but that stupid baby bothers me.

I suppose I should stop being so stuck in the past. Bands are nothing if they can’t reinvent themselves, so I’ll keep an open mind. I’m still going to their show in Brooklyn next month. But I’m wary.

Anyway. For the two people that read that, thanks. Now back to food and stuff.

I’d been craving cake since Thursday night, so after the cruise we hit up Station 4 for some dessert action.

We ordered a tropical fruit cake and macarons, which were very good but not what I was looking for.

I have a deep love for grocery store cake. White grocery store cake with sweet buttercream (or cream cheese) icing and maybe some fruit on top. I like it better than most fancy restaurant desserts and even home-baked cake. I suppose that’s kind of odd. Fortunately, my boss’s birthday is this week so I assume some cake will be involved and I can settle this craving.

Saturday we were up early for a workout, quickly negated by a delicious brunch I’ll write about later. Then we walked a million miles running errands around DC and played Top Golf, before desserting yet again.

That is what $20 worth of froyo looks like. It’s also what a terrible stomach ache looks like.

Sunday, I made an even worse decision than eating my weight in sugar and dairy and went out to view the not-quite-bloomed Cherry Blossoms along the Tidal Basin.

I don’t know how the people who ran the Cherry Blossom 10-miler survived. Just 20 minutes around the trees and I felt like I had a full-blown flu. Terrible.

I wanted to go back out tomorrow, when they should finally be completely bloomed, but I really don’t think I can handle it.

Pretty little bitch trees, that’s what they are.

I’m very excited for the warm weather we’re to have this week, despite the general feeling of ass I’m experiencing. One must suffer for happiness, I guess.

Isn’t the dentist the worst? Around February I started having tooth pain on the right side of my mouth. I expressed this concern to the dentist and they prescribed two fillings and a night guard. They quoted me a price, and I was on board.

The next time I went in, they decided I needed a crown instead of a filling, but didn’t call it a crown and didn’t tell me that the process would require an additional office visit. It was also $200 more… Okay, whatever. Teeth are important.

So yesterday I went to have the crown put on, and they ask if I’ve had pain. I said yes. So they flipped out to high heaven and were like “well if you’re in PAIN they maybe you need a root canal!”

I was like, well I told you I was in pain a month ago. And you took x-rays and told me I needed other stuff, not including a root canal. Then they were like, well you should probably decide if you want a root canal before we put this crown on.

Now, I don’t know, maybe I just don’t understand how these things work – but I thought it was the dentist, the one with the medical degree, who was supposed to determine whether or not the patient requires a root canal surgery.

Silly me. After a weird conversation concerning the level of pain I was in, they were trying to yank the temporary crown off my tooth without numbing my mouth. Then they put on the crown and didn’t mention the root canal again.

I’m still in pain. And this dentist’s office doesn’t even offer the happy gas.

So that really sucked. And it was expensive. And probably all the work I just had done and paid for will be moot when I have to have the root canal that apparently I must diagnose and order for myself.

I will be going to another dentist though.

Afterward, Tom and I decided sushi was much needed. He had a bad day too. Couple’s emotional eating. Very romantic.

When I first moved to the DC area, several bloggers told me that the best sushi was at a place in the Ballson Common Mall called Shiki Sushi. I was skeptical at first, but after my first visit, I was a believer. I’ve tried a lot of other, fancier, places in DC since but nothing has compared.

We tried a new-to-us dish – the spicy tuna gratin. I actually thought this was going to be another sushi roll, so I was surprised when it came out as a casserole. Surprised, but not disappointed. It was a sushi version of tuna casserole, but without any of that nasty canned tuna fishy taste. So good.

SO good.

We also ordered our favorite Shiki roll, the dynamite roll, along with a California roll and a spicy yellowtail roll.

The dynamite roll is seriously insane. The scallops are so fresh and tender. The rest of the sushi was amazing as well. Yellowtail is only good when it’s practically just out of the water fresh, and this was.

So, if you’ve had a bad day recently, or just have a sushi craving – don’t underestimate this little gem in Ballston. It’s never crowded, and it’s in one of the saddest malls in the area, but somehow it still manages to be the best.

Incoming search terms:

• root canals crowns my mouth drill

I’m trying to tally the number of things I did this weekend that were good for my future as an upstanding citizen of America.

There aren’t many.

Not that it was that bad of a weekend. No hang overs were sustained, and I saw two lovely friends I hadn’t seen in awhile, but when you end the weekend finishing off a box of Ranch-flavored Wheat Thins (the taste of which I may never completely rid from my mouth) and half a 24-ounce bag of Cadbury mini eggs on your own, a bit of self admonition tends to take place.

Friday night, I stayed in and had my friend Unmani over for dinner. We’re both trying to be healthier individuals, although she’s kicking my ass at the actual implementation of said goal.

To that end, I made a healthy dinner derived entirely from Skinnytaste recipes – the skinny pesto chicken bake (good, easy, I used store bought pesto because I’m lazy), the Spring asparagus risotto (good, but cook the asparagus a few minutes longer than the recipe says) and the healthy cookies (good and I will 100% make them again, but calling them cookies may be a bit of a stretch).

We had a lovely evening. Much cheaper than a typical Friday night out.

And I should be grateful for that, because Saturday was not so thrifty.

I did start out with a Saturday morning workout a nice healthy breakfast, and then departed for a date with one of my bridesmaids to look for her dress for the wedding.

Tom dropped me off at the mall on his way to the golf course. (It was a beautiful Spring day, and I’m jealous he spent it outside.)

When Jen arrived she asked what my plans were after we finished shopping and I told her I might just hang out at the mall until Tom was done golfing – I thought I’d look for some dresses for wedding events, maybe browse Barnes & Noble (while I still can) and get dinner by myself, something I enjoy doing on occasion.

She was shocked. “You’re going to spend all day in the mall?”

She didn’t think it could be done. But that’s what we did.

We began our shopping adventure a little after noon, and didn’t finish until six p.m. We looked at every store that sold women’s clothing at least once, but didn’t find what she was looking for. It was still fun though, and a workout.

After she left, I purchased a pair of shoes I couldn’t stop thinking about (and maybe another impulse pair because my feet were killing me and I felt I deserved them) and then treated myself to what I thought would be a nice, relaxing and healthy dinner at Seasons 52.

After 6+ hours of fruitless shopping, one deserves a fruity cocktail. This Strawberry Basil Vodka Infusion from tasted like summer. And since I’d spend the entirety of the nicest day so far this year indoors, I enjoyed it thoroughly.

I ordered a relatively healthy dinner (a salad and three goat cheese raviolis) and proceeded to read my book and glance occasionally at the Ohio State game on TV.

I was sitting at the piano bar, and made friends with the pianist who played all sorts of good songs I requested.

Later on, the owner of the bar noticed that I’d dropped a card from a sleep specialist I saw recently and struck up a conversation about insomnia (he gave me the name of his doc, but I’m still recovering from the horrible experience I had at the last one).

And I guess because pianists and bar owners think that women shouldn’t dine alone on a Saturday night (which is ridiculous), free drinks were bestowed upon me.

I must say, people who say that it’s awkward to go to a bar alone really don’t know what they’re missing. It’s a good time. People will be nice to you.

Oh and then I had one of those little desserts in a shot glass – the mango cheesecake to be precise – only to later discover that those four bites of food were 9 weight watchers points! I could have had a real dessert for that. They sure fooled me.

Anyway, by the time Tom arrived to collect me I was poorer and more tipsy than I’d have preferred.

And that’s how I spent ten hours in a mall. It’s also the end of any healthful choices that were made over the weekend.

Yesterday, I did nothing but eat recklessly. Which I guess is okay, it being a holiday and all.

There is a time limit to how long I can make continuously healthy decisions. It’s just not in my nature to be a disciplined or restrained person. But no matter how many times I fall off the balance wagon, I can always get back on again.

That’s what Mondays and Tuesdays are for. After that, it’s really a toss up.

For someone who is so stringent in the planning of the minutia of every day life (my Google calendar is filled out down to the hour for the next month) I find it kind of odd how unplanned I’ve left my future.

Now that I’m in my late twenties (there is much debate over whether 27 is middle or late twenties, but I go with the latter; it’s better to be realistic about aging – I think) and about to marry, I’ve been wondering lately if I should give my future a little more structure.

Many couples who enter matrimony have a typical idea of how they want their married life to go. They may set an age for when they want to start a family, or buy a house or maybe they want to change up their careers a bit.

Tom and I really don’t have any of those things mapped out.

We don’t plan to have children and although we briefly entertained the idea of buying a house in the next year, there’s really no way in hell we’ll be able to afford real estate in DC anytime soon.

And while I worry that our lack of planning seems irresponsible, I think there’s a nice thrill to the idea of not planning our marriage. Really, there’s no concrete need for us to do so.

Because we’re not going to procreate, we essentially have a blank slate ahead of us as to what we could do with our married life.

We both want to travel as much as our over-extended credit cards will allow. That is a given.

We also want a dog, which will certainly be our version of a child. I really want two dogs and a cat, but as long as we’re still living in a city apartment that probably won’t happen.

We each have our dreams for our careers, and while neither of them are very likely to happen, we’re still young enough to hold on to the hope that they could. And maybe they will, for one or both of us, and then our lives will change dramatically.

Although we both love living in DC, we might eventually leave this place for a warmer one, or one that is more conducive to our careers and not going completely broke by the time we’re 40.

If that does happen, I know I will be incredibly homesick for this city – the first geographical location where I truly felt happy – but will hopefully settle into a new place just as I did here.

Or maybe we’ll live here forever, happily squandering our money in rent.

Who knows?

My planning-oriented mind is a little worried that things aren’t clearly scripted for the next five or ten years, but I’m learning to let it be.

As long as I’m still able to regularly visit my family and friends in Oklahoma, to keep writing even if nothing ever comes of it and can stay true to myself and my relationships, I believe that the future is bright.

Do you have a plan – solid or liquid – for your future?

This is a departure from my usual “this is what I did, ate and drank this weekend” posts because I took nary a single picture of my life this weekend, and the memories are a tad fuzzy.

I keep waiting for that moment to arrive during my engagement when I’m all “squeeeeeee I’m a bride! WEDDING! yaaaaaaaaaay!”

It’s getting a lot closer, a little over 5 months away, and I figured that by this point I would have caught the bridal bug. But it just hasn’t happened.

This is not to say that I’m not very happy to be engaged, and even happier to have found the love of my life, but I still have yet to truly get it up over the whole “it’s my special day” ordeal.

One cool thing did happen Tuesday, when we met with our officiant and started to visualize the ceremony. It’s crazy to think about that moment; the act of such strong commitment makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

But other than that, I always feel a bit fraudulent when people ask me how it’s going and how excited I am about it.

One physically obvious example of this is the fact that I still haven’t started losing weight for the dress. Not even a little bit. It’s probably not going to happen, either.

I feel that in order to make it happen, I’d have to turn off all fun having from now until my nuptials and what is the point in that? You don’t get engaged so you can suspend your life for several months, do you?

So, I won’t be a super skinny, best shape of my life bride. I’m okay with that.

There’s also the fact that I go very long periods of time without thinking about the wedding at all. People bring it up and I’m all “oh shit, I have a whole bunch of stuff I should be doing huh?”

Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking going the whole traditional wedding route in general. I never even have birthday parties because the idea of congregating a bunch of people and forcing them to celebrate me has always made me uncomfortable. Why not just take the money we’re spending on this party and buy a boat?

That would have been an idea. A literal love boat, if you will.

But then I remember that despite what all the propaganda would have you believe – a wedding isn’t just about the bride. There’s also a groom involved (or two brides, or two grooms – but rarely ever just one person).

And if ever there was a guy that people enjoy congregating to celebrate, it’s Tom. People love that guy. He’s a hit. And who would I be to stop all his beloveds from raising a glass to him?

And despite all my child of divorce/fear that everyone hates me issues – I know that there are people in my life who will appreciate the opportunity to celebrate me as well. Or at least to get drunk and grind on someone inappropriate at the reception.

So even though I don’t feel that I’ve exhibited the appropriate levels of giddiness over this process, I’m glad that it’s getting closer. It will be a once in a lifetime ordeal. A life changer, even.

And the sooner it comes, the sooner I’ll be married to a great guy and headed to Napa to drown all the awkward things I said and did on the big day in many delicious glasses of wine.

I drank no green beers this weekend. Total bummer. We went out on Saturday instead of Sunday and none of the bars we went to had any. Sad.

It was still a good weekend though. Much less gratuitous than last weekend, but I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

We started out on Thursday with a Living Social deal for two three course dinners at Leek Bistro, a new-ish place near my work in Ballston.

Reading the (not very good) reviews for the restaurant Thursday morning, I was a concerned our food was going to suck.

It didn’t, but it wasn’t great either.

For our appetizers, Tom had the fennel and leek soup (which was okay, but should have been better since the establishment is named after it) and I had the Leek house salad, which features grilled pears, smoked red onions and chevre.

It was okay. The smoked onions weren’t really my thing, as they overpowered the entire dish.

For an entree, I had the lemon-chili roasted chicken with red potato and green leek hash, garlic Brussels sprouts and herb olivata.

For this, I will give Leek some credit. This dish was huge! And considering we paid $39 for two three course meals, a bargain. It wasn’t the best thing I’ve ever eaten (the olive flavor again kind of dominated the dish, and even though I like olives I didn’t love that I couldn’t taste anything else), but the chicken was cooked very well.

Tom had falafel crusted salmon with roasted garlic-garbanzo puree, red onion and tomato compote, and cool cucumber nage.

I can’t do salmon, but he said it was good. I had the teeniest of bites with the hummus, which was pretty tasty and full of flavor. If you like salmon, I think this might be one of the better choices on the menu.

The desserts were probably the best course, but still lacked a true wow factor. I had the peaches and cream:

This was tasty. The peaches and cream topped a pistachio shortcake, and the flavor was great. But really, I can’t excuse canned peaches at a nice restaurant. If the fruit isn’t seasonal, offer something else.

Tom had the sweet corn panna cotta with caramel corn, poblano crème Anglaise and tortilla tuile.

I really enjoyed this, it was probably my favorite dish of the night. Panna cotta is one of my favorite desserts to order at a restaurant, and the sweet corn was a fun and unusual touch. It wasn’t earth shattering, but very well executed. The caramel corn was nice also.

In addition to our three courses I also enjoyed the complimentary table bread with pesto and two and a half glasses of wine. The wine list was lackluster (the last glass I ordered was plain bad, hence the half), which I didn’t mind since I’m cutting back on my boozing ever so slightly.

I read an article recently that, for women, having three consecutive drinks in one sitting is considered binge drinking, which shocked and frightened me a bit.

Although, I have to wonder, what constitutes a “sitting”? If I get up to go to the bathroom, do I get to start over again?

I kid. Sort of. But really, I know alcohol isn’t healthy and I’m trying to be more responsible with it.

So we won’t talk much about what happened Saturday, when I officially celebrated St. Patrick’s Day (although I was sans green beer, I made up for it with regular beer…)

We can talk about this pizza though:

Breakfast pizza from Graffiato, devoured before many hours of festive beverages is a very good idea. The pie had crispy potato chips, broccolini, pancetta and a fried egg. So good.

Other than that, the weekend was actually quite tame and even somewhat healthy, aside from a delicious brunch at a friend’s house. And what fun is there in talking about tame, healthy things? Not so much.

I hope your weekend featured more green libations than did mine, but you know… within reason. I guess.

Yesterday was a perfectly shitty day.

And, as I do on all bad days, I began immediately to think of ways to make myself feel better.

I could skip the gym, pour myself a glass of wine and sit in a hot bath for an hour.

Or I could buy a large bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs and eat the whole thing.

Or how about happy hour? Big ‘ole wine pours at Cava and feta dip!

This is my usual response when things do not go my way. But for some reason yesterday, I decided to deal with things a little bit more reasonably. I knew that if I stuffed my feelings down, whether it be with food or alcohol or shutting myself up in the house – the problems would still be there.

And let’s face it, problems don’t feel any better when you’ve got a hang over or a stomach ache.

So, instead of my usual remedies, I trudged through the day and didn’t turn to any of my vices.

I wasn’t happy about it, but I did it anyway.

After work, I went to what I lovingly refer to as the Wednesday Death Class at the gym. (So many burpees and planks. I don’t know why I go back.)

I’d like to say that being healthy and working out really turned my day around and I left feeling awesome, but I didn’t. I was glad I worked out, but it wasn’t the magic cure. (Because there isn’t a magic cure.)

I went home, ate relatively healthy and then went to bed (although sleep and a very unhelpful “sleep specialist” was a big cause of the shittiness of the day) so that I could wake up today with at least a relatively clear mind and a somewhat renewed perspective on everything.

I didn’t make any goals this year for being healthier or eliminating my bad habits, but it was nice to see an unexpected positive change.

I certainly could stand to stop punishing myself when I have a bad day; maybe now that I’ve done it once, I’ll know that I can do it again. Or maybe it was a one time only deal, in which case, at least I did once?

This does not mean I won’t be consuming large quantities of Irish food and green beers this weekend (I most certainly will be). I just want to make sure that when I overdo it it’s because I’m having fun and living large – not because I’m trying to escape reality.

If I want to do that, I should be doing it through my writing, which is much more productive.

Speaking of writing, I’ve been posting here very infrequently. This is for several reasons. One being that I seem to only do interesting things on the weekends and then fall into the rut during the week with nothing to write about.

Another being that I actually have been writing somewhat regularly (almost done with that short story) and working on the writing blog I mentioned. It’s almost ready, but I won’t be linking to it from here. If you’d like to read it, you can email me and I’ll send you the link.

And with that, I probably will not be checking in again until after St. Patrick’s Day. I hope you have a good one, with much Irish soda bread (which I have never had, sad right?), corned beef, cabbage and green beverages.