What's up, readers?

By readers, I mean the three of you. I do this for you! If by "this" you mean suddenly realize I haven't updated my blog in more than a week. Oops.

I'm enjoying a particularly long weekend, which I celebrated by going for frozen yogurt with my sister and Jason's 8-year-old niece. We're all pretty cool people.

Have I mentioned I love fro-yo?

Zooey Deschanel likes fro yo, too!

Zooey Deschanel is awesome. Fact. I've had a fascination with that girl since I saw her in Elf and she blew me away with her amazing rendition of "Baby, it's cold outside." Since then I've YouTubed the heck out of her, first scouring for videos of her singing in her cabaret act, "If All the Stars Were Pretty Babies" and now of her in her better known band with M. Ward, "She & Him." I happen to be going to a She & Him and Band of Horses concert in 1.5 hours. Jealous?

I love Zooey because she is quirky and fun and girly with the voice of a 60's pop singer. I basically want to be her, but sadly I don't have the vocal ability. Whatever, I can try to embody what she means to me, all dresses and ukuleles and bangs and cuteness.

Recently it has been brought to my unavoidable attention by a cruel doctor's office scale that I currently weigh more than I ever have and ever thought I would. This upward climb must come to an end, so I've decided to make Zooey my inspiration. She's a visual reminder of what I want for myself, a joyful life (and a Joseph Gordon-Levitt) of my own.

This blog post sounds really stupid, doesn't it? Whatever. Zooey is awesome, and I'm going to see her in person so soon!

Dear Shawna, please blog.

I keep forgetting to blog. I think the blog misses Shawna.

If you say "blog" enough times in a row, it sounds weird.

I have nothing interesting to report. I work a lot, I run a lot, I sleep a lot. It's just how exciting I am, really.

Tonight I shall eat Subway and watch the Biggest Loser finale with my good pal Anne and her mother, because the three of us are a trifecta of product-placement-rocking awesome.

Holy gross.

Running gives me the grossest feet ever. Seriously, it's horrible. It almost makes me want to not wear flip flops.

I've been running quite a bit lately, as I have a half marathon next month and Hood to Coast in August (though strangely, my pants still do not fit. Darn it). So my feet are in interesting shape, to say the least.

I have this weird habit of kicking my shoes off under my desk while I'm doing paperwork, and today I have a stack of paperwork as big as I am... I kept noticing this weird feeling of something tickling my toe, and finally looked down.

It was a callus, that detached, as another callus has grown underneath it.

WOW.

Did I really just admit that to the internet?

Hermit, party of one.

I have this theory, and it is that I would be a much richer person if I were born as royalty, able to earn my education without debt, and I didn't like shopping so much.

I've really got to work on that.

I also plan to become completely uninteresting as the summer goes on, in attempt to save crazy amounts of money and not be in financial ruin when I hit 30.

Ways in which I plan to cut costs:
1. No more eating. Who needs that. Pshaw. (I'm only partly kidding). Okay, okay... no more eating out.
2. Biking to work. Saves gas!
3. Invent teleporation, to save on travel costs.
4. Grow vegetables in front of my house, either to feed the homeless or myself.
5. No more shopping. Really. Shopping is bad for me.

Ah, adult responsibility.

FRO YO!!!!!!!

When I typed the title of this post, I accidentally typed "Fro You" and have decided that shall be my go-to insult for Shawna from now on. Fro you, Shawna!

Last night I was out on a slightly rain-soaked run, basking in the glory that is me not dying while running (woo!) when my running buddy looked towards a nearby building and said, "Oh look, frozen yogurt!"

My response: "SHAWNA WILL BE SO EXCITED, I MUST TELL HER IMMEDIATELY!"

You see, Shawna and I have been on a quest lately to discover a soft-serve frozen yogurt joint in our town. So far all we have come up with is Costco, where you can buy a vat of soft serve for $1.35. While this is indeed delicious, it is also far away from our house and probably too much fro yo to be good for a person.

So last night when I saw signs for a self-service fro yo place (with a gazillion topping choices) you can imagine my delight. It just says opening soon, but that's a step in the right direction!

Shawna and I are limited ourselves to twice per week, and only if we bicycle there and back. Unless one of us is on our period, and then we get an extra outing per week.

My pants are never going to fit, are they?

June 26!

I just registered for a half marathon.

Why do I do these things?

I still have the plague, so I sound like a boy in puberty today.

Weekend cardio

Forms of "exercise" completed this weekend:

1. Dancing like a fool, for several hours, to the likes of Journey and Beastie Boys. Yes, I am that cool.
2. Walking around (lots and lots of walking around) a local athletic event during which people ski, then bicycle, then run, then kayak, and then sprint. Totally forming a team next year.
3. Bicycle ride from my home to my office to see how difficult it would be to bike to work. Still moderately afraid of biking around cars and traffic, which is a problem... We'll see.
4. 9 mile run that turned into a 7 mile run, as I still have the plague and a freak thunderstorm was approaching. Still, I made good time, and it's better than 6 miles! Did I mention I have the plague?

You're welcome.

Jell-O Head

Operation pants? Not going so well. My head feels like jell-o.

I have a sinus infection, and now have lovely antibiotics, but I still feel like death. I have been sick all week. As a result, I have not run all week.

Maybe today I will run. Who knows?

But really, I mean it, I will be very hardcore. Today I told the boyfriend that I feel like death (and also a grumpy orca whale). He told me to quit being as ass (after several more self-deprecating comments on my part). Well played, sir...

Operation Pants

So, I have this problem... my pants don't fit. I realize that training for a marathon put me in some kickass shape, and now that I am not training for a marathon, my pants do not fit.

Oops. Also, damn.

Turns out I've gained 20 pounds in the past year, which is entirely unfortunate. Granted, I had a hell of a year, with lots of changes--but I also ran a marathon, so that's cool. I never really intended to gain weight back, but then, who does? It's not that I'm unhappy with myself, it's more that I would really like to wear the closet full of pants that I own, and not buy new ones.

Currently size 12 fits. I'm cool with this, and I do not think a size 12 is a bad thing. Nor will I let anyone convince me that size 12 is fat, or that I should be smaller. I can still run, I can still be awesome, and I am still healthy. I just felt much more comfortable at a size 10. And I have really cute size 10 pants, and I would like for them to fit, please.

It's weird to me that I sometimes feel fat and later reflect upon that weight and realize that when I thought that, I was not at all fat. Several years ago I weighed 220 pounds and dreamed of being a size 12. As such, I like to keep things in perspective. Size 12 = good. Size 10 = able to wear pants, and still good.

I have no idea how I've gained 20 pounds... I thought I would notice after 10, and I did, but I still gained 10 more. Am I just supposed to be this weight? Am I just destined to be this size unless I'm doing ridiculous things like training for a marathon? I still think I'm awesome, regardless. My family still loves me. I seem to have found a man who likes me even if I have gotten a little softer in the middle, which is a bonus. Still, I feel like I can be a little more hardcore. And I'm too cheap to buy new pants

Thus, my mission: to make my pants fit.

Here are random pictures for your amusement, from my birthday. My pants fit at that point:

Hurray!

We got our first spam comment on our blog. I'm so proud.

Could someone please convince Shawna that it is a really good idea to sign up for a month of unlimited yoga for $29 at the yoga studio that is a block away from our house?

Twinsies!

I don't even remember where I found this, but I made the best discovery ever today...



Carrie Underwood and I totally have the same workout shirt. That's a picture of her and her trainer. I would also like to mention that the shirt cost $5 at Target.

This means we should be best friends, probably.

Remember this?



I love Target too, Carrie, and I like to wear this shirt when I run marathons and face plant on treadmills because it makes me look hardcore. Call me. We could be a hardcore duo.

10 years

So, today was the 10th anniversary of my sister's death. I don't know why I feel the need to broadcast that on this blog like I did last year, but I guess I just want to shout out to the universe that this date hasn't passed by unnoticed by me.

Every year I call my mom on May 3rd. It feels like we are the only two people in the world who know what this date means to us. Heather is not forgotten, not by us. Sometimes my mom or I will mention her during the phone call, sometimes not. But I know that Mom is thinking of Heather just as I am on this day a week before Mother's Day.

It's been a decade since I've laughed at my sister's sarcastic humor, attacked her with my painfully tight hugs, and eagerly awaited a letter from her in the mail. Sometimes I feel like a jerk when I point out to others that I still miss her and love her as much as ever, like I feel that they feel I should just be over being sad already. But I can still hear her laugh and feel her love, and I know I'll never be done grieving for who she would have been today and who I miss from before.

I am now 26, the age Heather was when she died. She is my older sister no matter what age I am, but it's strange that she'll always be frozen in time for me at that age. When I'm 50 with wrinkles, I'll still remember my big sister as she was in 2000, a young and happy 26-year-old growing into herself and her life.

Life is so short, and it's hard to believe I haven't seen my sister in ten years when she's still such a part of my world and who I am. These are the years my sister was given; these 26 are what I've been given so far, too. Ten years ago I got a phone call that made me wonder how I'd ever be able to wake up the next morning, breathe in and out. Here I am, still standing, and so is my mom. I feel like love is an incredible thing.

Back from Hawaii

Do I have to go back to work tomorrow?