Random

I am somewhat random. Scatterbrained. I bring up things at awkward moments, I disclaim and justify EVERYTHING, and I often have very quirky thoughts running through my head. (re: nesting doll bridesmaid reference a few posts ago)

So this post will contain some more of my random thoughts pertaining to my insulation.

1. If we lived in olden times, I'd be considered wealthy, and all those skinny bitches would be considered poor. ;)

2. The "waif" look of 90s models (and some current ones) scares me, and it's hard for me to look at them. I wonder if it's hard for them to look at me.

3. The other night I walked into REI. When I'm in there, I envision myself as a tree-hugging cyclist who likes to camp, hike, run, kayak and swim. I always leave inspired to do all those things at ONE time.

4. The huge problem with walking into REI is that it is next to the Chinese restaurant, and I had fifteen minutes to waste until my crab rangoon was ready. Huge fail. I should have thrown out the crab rangoon and bought a pair of hiking boots, a backpack and a tent.

5. I miss swimming a lot.

6. I've had a couple people ask me to do 5Ks between now and summer. I'm kind of excited, but a little intimidated too.

7. I am "hippy." During my first year of teaching I was teaching a 7th grade class how to mark time, which means marching in place. We were prepping for the Christmas parade. One girl, in all seriousness, asked me if when they marched, should their hips swing back and forth like mine? I told her no, but just wait. One day they would.

8. I can still touch my toes, which I credit to doing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" with little kids.

9. When I walk in heels, I scare myself and anyone around me. To say I'm a "heavy walker" is putting it nicely. I walk like a damn elephant.

10. My dad is an excellent golf coach. He is very patient, and he explains everything really well. Several years ago, we were at the driving range (one of my favorite places), and he kept telling me I was "lifting up." No shit, I missed the ball. Of course I lifted up. He had me move closer to the ball (I was learning with my new clubs, and I had originally practiced with his, which were too tall, but they were better than Frannie's, which are seriously cut down). I moved closer. I had a lot of trouble keeping my arms straight. He kept telling me, "Megan, you've got to straighten your arms." I kept telling him I couldn't. We went back and forth for a few minutes before I flipped, yelling, "I can't straighten my arms anymore, Dad! My chest is in the way!" He walked away and smoked a cigarette.

11. I keep fighting with the same three pounds and it's pissing me off. :)