So, you see, I normally watch American Idol with Cheri and Amy on Tuesday nights. Which works out because they have television and I don't. They weren't available tonight-- Idol finale night-- and I had accepted the fact that I would miss the battle of the Davids. But then I got really excited, because my roommate just brought home this new thingamajig that gets us some television reception. One channel, to be exact.
Yeah, the wrong one.
I was all bundled up on the couch, excited and anticipating a "humdinger" of a finale like Simon said I should, when all of a sudden Dancing with the Stars comes on.
Whatever.
Joshua is heading off to India in about two weeks and he'll be gone for the whole summer. In efforts to not be lonely I have plans to work-out like mad, catch up on all the projects I've been putting off, and last but not least reset my internal alarm clock, which has me waking up somewhere around 9:00 a.m.
I will really miss Joshua, but I'm glad that he gets to go. Everyone should get the opportunity to go and serve and feel what it's like to sweat and work until exhaustion overtakes you on behalf of people who need help with basic things like food, water and healthcare. It really revamps your worldview and day-to-day mentality, at least until you're back in the U.S. for two months and it all just starts to fade away into a cherished memory.
My roommate put up maps in our living room and kitchen tonight-- a world map and a map of the U.S., and it just made me feel more restless than I already am. I want to GO so bad! I am praying that God will make the path clear. I know He will. He says over and over again that although we make plans, He is the one that directs where we go. If He is giving me this heart that is restless for the nations, I have a feeling I'll end up there eventually.
Meanwhile, if I am in the country in 2010, I am definitely doing the 3-day and joining Team Girlapalooza. Kak and my old roommate Kristie are walking this year in D.C. and it just seems contagious. It's a good thing. It's fun to be involved in good things. When I was in college, I participated in several Invisible Children rallies? protests? demonstrations? and it just felt good to stand up for those who need the world to be aware of the injustices being perpetrated against them. It is good to give of your money, time and talents to further peace, love, and reconciliation, both physically and spiritually.
Alright, well, I suppose I'm off to go drown my sorrows by watching a documentary about Mecca.
Peas and carrots, all.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
The frivolous, the mundane, and the important-- photo-friendly
The Frivolous
I've had a gift certificate to Coldwater Creek for some time now, but they recently opened up a store in Asheville and tonight I stopped in. I bought a delicious dress and some ü
Except when I go into a clothing store. There are so many cute things that a 22-year -old has the body for (although, as noted in my earlier post entitled "Huffin' and Puffin,'" this body could use a tad bit of work) and I become completely enamored with long, flowing skirts and dresses that are tailored exactly to my curves. Not to mention earrings... oh, after the fire I had to bid my obsession with earrings adieu. There were so many lost that had been acquired years ago; it was a sad thing. I think I have been in mourning.
We'll consider this my shopping rebound. Clothes have not been in my budget for the past half a year, but as summertime approaches, I think a few dollars from every paycheck could by me something cute. What do you say?
The Mundane
A storm is brewing in the Skyland mountains tonight. It really is brewing, like coffee brews. With coffee, it begins with just a hint of that rich smell along with the sound of the water beginning to percolate. Likewise, the wind has picked up a bit, and a few raindrops were spattering my glasses when I left Biltmore Village. It even smells of precipitation. Soon, like the robust smell of coffee can permeate a kitchen, the gray sky is going to open up and drench Asheville. My weekend has just started beautifully.
I am also listening my most recently purchased songs on iTunes while greedily shoveling left-overs from the Thai restaurant near campus into my mouth. Can you guess the song I'm currently listening to? Here's a hint:
Okay, I'll admit it. My latest purchases include Jordin Sparks, Chayanne, Natasha Bedingfield, Gloria Estefan, Ciara, and yes, the Spice Girls. Most of you probably don't even know who Chayanne is, and I wouldn't either, except that he sings a song called Tu Pirata Soy Yo (I Am Your Pirate) and it is absolutely perfect because those of you who follow me from LiveJournal, or know me at all, know that I am destined to have an unparalleled love with a pirate named Armando del Castillo, who will romance me with suave lines about my eyes being like emeralds and, like Chayanne's lyrics, my heart being his ocean. Here is a picture of me standing on the Pacific coast in Nicaragua, longingly awaiting my love:
Seriously, though, check out these lyrics:
Weekend plans include: eating chocolate ice cream, having a garage sale (proceeds going towards Joshua's trip to India!), going to see the next Narnia movie, the beginning of my container gardening extravaganza on my back porch, and of course, watching ER. Doug Ross (a.k.a. a young, smokin' hot George Clooney) has just left the show and I don't know what Carol Hathaway is going to be like without the foil of Doug. The last episode I watched was his last, and it was very heart-wrenching. I have a tendency to over-identify with fictional characters anyway, and whenever there is a love story plot going on, insert me and Joshua. Hence the break-up of Doug and Carol being so sad. What to do with me?
And last but not least, is everyone geared up for the grand finale of American Idol? Which David will it be? Both will do well regardless of the outcome-- Cook for his showmanship (even if I do find it trite) and Archuleta for his natural talent. If you have a voice as unsinkable as that, you'll never go hungry.
The Important
Now that I've spent a very long time talking about the mainly inconsequential, here is some real news: my very good friend Kak is walking the 3-day this year. First, who's Kak? She's a savvy, smart 40-something who lives it up in Washington, D.C. She is seriously one of my favorite people on the planet and I have no other word to describe her aside from "cool." Second, what's the 3-day?
The 3-day is exactly that-- a 3-day, 60-mile walk whose participants raise money for breast cancer research. I guarantee that everyone reading this post knows at least one person who has had breast cancer. There's no reason that in our times a cure should not be possible. If they can cure leprosy, they sure as hell should be able to cure cancer, pardon my French. (Why did the French get cursed with assumption of liability for cursing?)
Each participant in the 3-day has to raise at least $2,200 to walk. These people train for months to be able to walk the 60 miles. Kak is currently training, raising funds, and spreading the word. She has walked before and this year she's set her sights on exceeding the entrance amount-- she's aiming for $10,000! Obviously, this is not a goal that she can accomplish singlehandedly.
I'm giving you, my loyal readers :), a chance to give to something bigger than yourselves. I talk about Jesus a lot, and if you know me, someday soon I'll probably be asking for money (again) to go talk to people about him because they haven't heard about him yet. But if you aren't into that sort of thing, you are into this-- that woman you know who has been throwing up because of chemo, is scheduled for that mastectomy, or shown you the burns from radiation therapy. One or two of us will have to go through that ourselves. Unless we can work together to find a cure.
Give up your Starbucks, booze, or restaurant tabs for two weeks and give that money to breast cancer research.
Money is something that slips in and out of our hands. We might as well spend it on something worthwhile. Spend it on someone's chance at life.
I've had a gift certificate to Coldwater Creek for some time now, but they recently opened up a store in Asheville and tonight I stopped in. I bought a delicious dress and some ü
Except when I go into a clothing store. There are so many cute things that a 22-year -old has the body for (although, as noted in my earlier post entitled "Huffin' and Puffin,'" this body could use a tad bit of work) and I become completely enamored with long, flowing skirts and dresses that are tailored exactly to my curves. Not to mention earrings... oh, after the fire I had to bid my obsession with earrings adieu. There were so many lost that had been acquired years ago; it was a sad thing. I think I have been in mourning.
We'll consider this my shopping rebound. Clothes have not been in my budget for the past half a year, but as summertime approaches, I think a few dollars from every paycheck could by me something cute. What do you say?
The Mundane
A storm is brewing in the Skyland mountains tonight. It really is brewing, like coffee brews. With coffee, it begins with just a hint of that rich smell along with the sound of the water beginning to percolate. Likewise, the wind has picked up a bit, and a few raindrops were spattering my glasses when I left Biltmore Village. It even smells of precipitation. Soon, like the robust smell of coffee can permeate a kitchen, the gray sky is going to open up and drench Asheville. My weekend has just started beautifully.
I am also listening my most recently purchased songs on iTunes while greedily shoveling left-overs from the Thai restaurant near campus into my mouth. Can you guess the song I'm currently listening to? Here's a hint:
So here's the story from A to Z You want to get with me, you better listen carefully...
Slam your body down and wind it all around...
Okay, I'll admit it. My latest purchases include Jordin Sparks, Chayanne, Natasha Bedingfield, Gloria Estefan, Ciara, and yes, the Spice Girls. Most of you probably don't even know who Chayanne is, and I wouldn't either, except that he sings a song called Tu Pirata Soy Yo (I Am Your Pirate) and it is absolutely perfect because those of you who follow me from LiveJournal, or know me at all, know that I am destined to have an unparalleled love with a pirate named Armando del Castillo, who will romance me with suave lines about my eyes being like emeralds and, like Chayanne's lyrics, my heart being his ocean. Here is a picture of me standing on the Pacific coast in Nicaragua, longingly awaiting my love:
Seriously, though, check out these lyrics:
Tu pirata soy yo (I am your pirate)If you have the spirit of Simon Cowell within you and wish to condemn such nonsense, I will unapologetically stand by the swoon-worthiness of this song. Even if it does have a clunky-sounding synthesizer attached.
Y mi mar es tu corazón (And my ocean is your heart)
Mi bandera, tu libertad (My banner, your freedom)
Mi tesoro, poderte amar (My treasure, to be able to love you)
Tu pirata soy yo (I am your pirate)
Tu querido ladrón de amor (Your beloved thief of love)
En mi proa tu nombre va (Your name will adorn my bow)
Tu pirata soy yo (I am your pirate)
Weekend plans include: eating chocolate ice cream, having a garage sale (proceeds going towards Joshua's trip to India!), going to see the next Narnia movie, the beginning of my container gardening extravaganza on my back porch, and of course, watching ER. Doug Ross (a.k.a. a young, smokin' hot George Clooney) has just left the show and I don't know what Carol Hathaway is going to be like without the foil of Doug. The last episode I watched was his last, and it was very heart-wrenching. I have a tendency to over-identify with fictional characters anyway, and whenever there is a love story plot going on, insert me and Joshua. Hence the break-up of Doug and Carol being so sad. What to do with me?
And last but not least, is everyone geared up for the grand finale of American Idol? Which David will it be? Both will do well regardless of the outcome-- Cook for his showmanship (even if I do find it trite) and Archuleta for his natural talent. If you have a voice as unsinkable as that, you'll never go hungry.
The Important
Now that I've spent a very long time talking about the mainly inconsequential, here is some real news: my very good friend Kak is walking the 3-day this year. First, who's Kak? She's a savvy, smart 40-something who lives it up in Washington, D.C. She is seriously one of my favorite people on the planet and I have no other word to describe her aside from "cool." Second, what's the 3-day?
The 3-day is exactly that-- a 3-day, 60-mile walk whose participants raise money for breast cancer research. I guarantee that everyone reading this post knows at least one person who has had breast cancer. There's no reason that in our times a cure should not be possible. If they can cure leprosy, they sure as hell should be able to cure cancer, pardon my French. (Why did the French get cursed with assumption of liability for cursing?)
Each participant in the 3-day has to raise at least $2,200 to walk. These people train for months to be able to walk the 60 miles. Kak is currently training, raising funds, and spreading the word. She has walked before and this year she's set her sights on exceeding the entrance amount-- she's aiming for $10,000! Obviously, this is not a goal that she can accomplish singlehandedly.
I'm giving you, my loyal readers :), a chance to give to something bigger than yourselves. I talk about Jesus a lot, and if you know me, someday soon I'll probably be asking for money (again) to go talk to people about him because they haven't heard about him yet. But if you aren't into that sort of thing, you are into this-- that woman you know who has been throwing up because of chemo, is scheduled for that mastectomy, or shown you the burns from radiation therapy. One or two of us will have to go through that ourselves. Unless we can work together to find a cure.
Give up your Starbucks, booze, or restaurant tabs for two weeks and give that money to breast cancer research.
Money is something that slips in and out of our hands. We might as well spend it on something worthwhile. Spend it on someone's chance at life.
Give here.
In the words of Nobel Prize-winning philosopher Albert Schweitzer-- “Think occasionally of the suffering from which you spare yourself the sight.”
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Huffin' and puffin'
Realization of the day: chubby and out of shape = miserable workout.
It wasn't even supposed to be a workout. The roommie and I both had hellish days at work-- waiting on other people to give you information so that you can do what your supposed to do and then give your work to someone else who needs it before they can do what they're supposed to do, within a two-hour deadline... yeah. Also, working in a higher-education institution lends itself to perks (like great cultural events that come to campus and are free for faculty and staff) and certain disadvantages (like everyone thinking their program/unit/department is the most important on campus). I suppose you get that disadvantage in every workplace. But still, it's a little frustrating when you know that the world really revolves around your office. Haha, just kidding.
When I got home Michelle was vegging out in our corner chair, catching up on Grey's Anatomy, and I headed straight for the (can you guess?) Ruffles and ranch dip. (This, I'm realizing, may be part of the chubbiness problem.) We caught up on our days, our drama and moaned about being tired, and then jointly decided that what we really needed was to expend a little energy. Out came the bikes.
Now Michelle is mountain biker extraordinaire, and my bike has been on the back porch covered in a tarp since I moved to Asheville last November. Six months, baby. Six months of sedentary winter living. "Winter living" means eating, huddling up in lots of blankets, and more eating. Eating things like alfredo pasta, and broccoli and rice casserole, and hot apple cider, and Godiva hot chocolate. These things are heavy, creamy, and full of sugar and fat that keep you nice and warm all winter long. And I needed to be nice and warm. I am a Florida girl after all, and I had a hard enough time just getting used to the fact that I couldn't just jump in my car to go to work in the morning and drive off. I had to wait for the ice to thaw or try to scrape it off (usually without much success, though I'm blaming the ice-scraper). So it was pure survival mode for me.
Michelle and I didn't have the drive to load our bikes up into our cars and go to a local park, so we decided to ride down the main road and use the sidewalks. For the first five minutes I was smiling like a loon. (Cheri, I didn't know what a loon looks like, or even that it was a bird, but I have heard that they smile a lot. Or did I get my expressions mixed up?) "Now this is North Carolina living," I said to myself as we cruised downhill in the twilight air.
We rode for 28 minutes and went 3.5 miles, according to Michelle's do-hickey that she keeps on her handlebars. Anyone who isn't as silly as me realizes that after you get to the bottom of the hill you're cruising down, you have to go back up another. Let's just say that I got my half-hour of exercise with a consistently elevated heart rate this evening. Michelle cheered me on for the last quarter-mile, because she's a good sport. I felt like I was on Biggest Loser.
So, this is what I have surmised: a) I am chubby and out of shape, b) I do not want to be chubby and out of shape, and c) I probably need to lay off the Ruffles and ranch dip and spend more time on the bike.
It wasn't even supposed to be a workout. The roommie and I both had hellish days at work-- waiting on other people to give you information so that you can do what your supposed to do and then give your work to someone else who needs it before they can do what they're supposed to do, within a two-hour deadline... yeah. Also, working in a higher-education institution lends itself to perks (like great cultural events that come to campus and are free for faculty and staff) and certain disadvantages (like everyone thinking their program/unit/department is the most important on campus). I suppose you get that disadvantage in every workplace. But still, it's a little frustrating when you know that the world really revolves around your office. Haha, just kidding.
When I got home Michelle was vegging out in our corner chair, catching up on Grey's Anatomy, and I headed straight for the (can you guess?) Ruffles and ranch dip. (This, I'm realizing, may be part of the chubbiness problem.) We caught up on our days, our drama and moaned about being tired, and then jointly decided that what we really needed was to expend a little energy. Out came the bikes.
Now Michelle is mountain biker extraordinaire, and my bike has been on the back porch covered in a tarp since I moved to Asheville last November. Six months, baby. Six months of sedentary winter living. "Winter living" means eating, huddling up in lots of blankets, and more eating. Eating things like alfredo pasta, and broccoli and rice casserole, and hot apple cider, and Godiva hot chocolate. These things are heavy, creamy, and full of sugar and fat that keep you nice and warm all winter long. And I needed to be nice and warm. I am a Florida girl after all, and I had a hard enough time just getting used to the fact that I couldn't just jump in my car to go to work in the morning and drive off. I had to wait for the ice to thaw or try to scrape it off (usually without much success, though I'm blaming the ice-scraper). So it was pure survival mode for me.
Michelle and I didn't have the drive to load our bikes up into our cars and go to a local park, so we decided to ride down the main road and use the sidewalks. For the first five minutes I was smiling like a loon. (Cheri, I didn't know what a loon looks like, or even that it was a bird, but I have heard that they smile a lot. Or did I get my expressions mixed up?) "Now this is North Carolina living," I said to myself as we cruised downhill in the twilight air.
We rode for 28 minutes and went 3.5 miles, according to Michelle's do-hickey that she keeps on her handlebars. Anyone who isn't as silly as me realizes that after you get to the bottom of the hill you're cruising down, you have to go back up another. Let's just say that I got my half-hour of exercise with a consistently elevated heart rate this evening. Michelle cheered me on for the last quarter-mile, because she's a good sport. I felt like I was on Biggest Loser.
So, this is what I have surmised: a) I am chubby and out of shape, b) I do not want to be chubby and out of shape, and c) I probably need to lay off the Ruffles and ranch dip and spend more time on the bike.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Adorkable
It amuses me how my life is such a mixture of the frivolous, the mundane, and the important. I think that if everything was important all the time, we would all die very young. Have you noticed how all of our presidents turn gray during their tenure? Everything is important all the time. At least excluding playtime with Marilyn and Monica.
Tonight before I went to eat dinner and watch American Idol with Amy and Cheri, I looked at the bookshelf in my room and said out loud, "I have a lot to learn, and that makes me happy." I think this may classify me as one of the biggest dorks on the planet, and I embrace it proudly. Adorkable.
My bookshelf is stuffed with a lot of nonfiction works that I have either started and not finished or not even opened yet, and a lot of the time I lack the motivation to pick one up and start fresh. But tonight inspiration struck for some reason. I'm currently reading Daughter of Persia that I borrowed from the library, so my old faithfuls on the dusty bookshelf will have to extend a little more patience to me. But tonight I fell in love with them all again.
In between the yet-to-reads are my favorite books that I know I will read time and time again or I am too sentimentally attached to and so I can't give them away. Am I the only person out there who is sentimentally attached to books? I thought so before I met my previous roommate K-Smeltz. Just like me, she had her "comfort books"-- you know, akin to comfort foods. My comfort foods are generally carbohydrates and salty. My comfort books are usually easy reads that have writing that I melt into.
Did anyone see American Idol tonight? Especially the cringe-worthy two minutes where the judging panel lambasted Jason Castro for his rendition of Bob Marley's "I Shot the Sheriff"? And was it just me, or did Jason mouth "Don't vote" to the camera as Ryan Seacrest was rattling off his voting number? If he somehow miraculously survives the execution round tomorrow night after two lackluster performances, forgotten lyrics and an outright request that nobody vote for him, I seriously might stop watching the show. Okay, not really. But I will be really, really mad. Just like Simon and Randy, who I think know that Jason wants to go home and is almost self-sabotaging in his performances.
After a dose of that fluff, I am ready for bed. Ciao, bella.
Tonight before I went to eat dinner and watch American Idol with Amy and Cheri, I looked at the bookshelf in my room and said out loud, "I have a lot to learn, and that makes me happy." I think this may classify me as one of the biggest dorks on the planet, and I embrace it proudly. Adorkable.
My bookshelf is stuffed with a lot of nonfiction works that I have either started and not finished or not even opened yet, and a lot of the time I lack the motivation to pick one up and start fresh. But tonight inspiration struck for some reason. I'm currently reading Daughter of Persia that I borrowed from the library, so my old faithfuls on the dusty bookshelf will have to extend a little more patience to me. But tonight I fell in love with them all again.
In between the yet-to-reads are my favorite books that I know I will read time and time again or I am too sentimentally attached to and so I can't give them away. Am I the only person out there who is sentimentally attached to books? I thought so before I met my previous roommate K-Smeltz. Just like me, she had her "comfort books"-- you know, akin to comfort foods. My comfort foods are generally carbohydrates and salty. My comfort books are usually easy reads that have writing that I melt into.
Did anyone see American Idol tonight? Especially the cringe-worthy two minutes where the judging panel lambasted Jason Castro for his rendition of Bob Marley's "I Shot the Sheriff"? And was it just me, or did Jason mouth "Don't vote" to the camera as Ryan Seacrest was rattling off his voting number? If he somehow miraculously survives the execution round tomorrow night after two lackluster performances, forgotten lyrics and an outright request that nobody vote for him, I seriously might stop watching the show. Okay, not really. But I will be really, really mad. Just like Simon and Randy, who I think know that Jason wants to go home and is almost self-sabotaging in his performances.
After a dose of that fluff, I am ready for bed. Ciao, bella.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Sweet sigh of relief
It's the weekend
I just ate chicken for dinner
It tasted just as good as I remembered
Still don't think I could eat pig or cow
Why?
Read Skinny Bitch and you'll see
At least chickens pumped full of steroids aren't tortured quite as badly as pigs and cows
Although that might be debatable.
I am neither skinny, nor a bitch (most days)
And I was tired of eating carbohydrates and beans
I was a bad vegetarian
But it's still important to me
So who knows.
Meanwhile
I had some very juicy
Wonderfully breaded
Chick-fil-A chicken nuggets.
Just four
In case they don't settle well.
Last time I had chicken-flavored ramen I got a stomach ache
So hopefully nothing worse will come of this.
It's the weekend.
I am going to watch ER and take a long, hot shower and RELAX
And then snuggle with my boyfriend
And not think about anything related to commencement or faculty or budgets or deadlines.
I went to a Relay for Life event tonight
Because my roommate headed it up
And I realized, as I stood in the crowd, listening to the cancer survivor talk
And I watched all the cancer survivors take the first lap of the relay
That it's things like these that get me pumped about life.
I have been thinking and thinking about trying for the 2010 3-day.
Would you support me?
This year I am supporting my good friend Kak
The one who writes the sermons
When I'm too hard on myself. :)
If you want to know more about it, I will be glad to tell you
And we can raise money together
To find a cure
For a disease that steals.
Which again reminds me why I was a vegetarian in the first place.
Kris Carr
Crazy Sexy Cancer
Healthy living
Life free of toxicity.
It's the weekend
Sweet sigh of relief.
I just ate chicken for dinner
It tasted just as good as I remembered
Still don't think I could eat pig or cow
Why?
Read Skinny Bitch and you'll see
At least chickens pumped full of steroids aren't tortured quite as badly as pigs and cows
Although that might be debatable.
I am neither skinny, nor a bitch (most days)
And I was tired of eating carbohydrates and beans
I was a bad vegetarian
But it's still important to me
So who knows.
Meanwhile
I had some very juicy
Wonderfully breaded
Chick-fil-A chicken nuggets.
Just four
In case they don't settle well.
Last time I had chicken-flavored ramen I got a stomach ache
So hopefully nothing worse will come of this.
It's the weekend.
I am going to watch ER and take a long, hot shower and RELAX
And then snuggle with my boyfriend
And not think about anything related to commencement or faculty or budgets or deadlines.
I went to a Relay for Life event tonight
Because my roommate headed it up
And I realized, as I stood in the crowd, listening to the cancer survivor talk
And I watched all the cancer survivors take the first lap of the relay
That it's things like these that get me pumped about life.
I have been thinking and thinking about trying for the 2010 3-day.
Would you support me?
This year I am supporting my good friend Kak
The one who writes the sermons
When I'm too hard on myself. :)
If you want to know more about it, I will be glad to tell you
And we can raise money together
To find a cure
For a disease that steals.
Which again reminds me why I was a vegetarian in the first place.
Kris Carr
Crazy Sexy Cancer
Healthy living
Life free of toxicity.
It's the weekend
Sweet sigh of relief.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
May Day?
I really don’t know what’s up with me.
I am tired of the see-saw, to be honest. It’s odd—in some respects I know who I want to be. Healthy. Vibrant. Joyful. Rooted in God. Persistent. Loving. Intentional. Hard-working. Well-read. Politically and historically literate. Kind.
On most days, however, my typical self shines through: selfish, lazy, lethargic, unhealthy, emotional roller coaster.
Oh, the glories of the 20-somethings.
I don’t know when I’ll get there. There is a distinct possibility that it won’t all click into place until I hit 40. That seems to be the magical number for women, or so I hear.
In the meantime I will show myself a little grace. Be kind to myself. Remember to think of myself as my Creator thinks of me. Self-love, Megan, self-love.
Only one more day until the weekend hits. I’m so ready for it—even though it includes washing dishes and doing laundry. But at least I love the feel of hot water running over my hands. And my laundry detergent smells like apple blossoms. And I can open up our patio doors and let sunlight stream into the kitchen and cool breezes might sneak in and ruffle my hair a bit. And if I’m really lucky, there might even be a thunderstorm.
Things to look forward to this weekend: sleeping in, catching up on National Geographic.
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