Seven

This is my seventh blog, meaning I did what I said I'd do.

Seven things about the number seven:

1. Seven is my lucky number. When I was in 2nd grade in 1991 (and seven years old), I participated in a contest to win a cake at the school fair. When the music stopped, I was standing on number seven and won a cake. When I was seven (did you catch that?). It was pretty sweet.

                                          (I have no idea who these children are).

2. When I was seven, I did more things than win cake. I also had my first crush (a kid named Jonathan). Seven was a big year for me.

                                                      (Really big. Also, not my cake.)

3. In Judaism, seven is sort of a BFD. I'm a Jew, so I think the transitive principal states that seven is therefore a BFD to me. So really, I can't escape seven even if I wanted to.

                                             (See: shiva, sukkot, and the seven wedding blessings. Also, this article.)

4. I've never seen the movie Se7en, but I sort of want to. I really don't like being scared though, so I'll probably just read the Wikipedia synopsis instead.

                                                      (If I had Young Brad Pitt's baby, Morgan Freeman would be the god father).

5. Seven jeans aren't really my favorite. Maybe if I were slimmer and had a flatter butt stopped drinking so much beer they would be.

                                          (This is totally not me.)

6. This is the hand-shape for the number seven:

                                                        (Still not me.)

7. 7:10 just happened and Barrett walked in the door, so I'm outta here. Yay 7th blog entry!

P.S.: I don't understand caption placement.

To the girl who walked in late to the Ab Lab core class:

Next time you decide to join a twenty-five minute class fifteen minutes after it starts, can you just not?

It's really distracting to see you setting up your mat in the reflection of the mirror. Setting up wouldn't have taken so long if  you hadn't been skipping around other students. While talking to your friend. And texting on your phone. It wouldn't have taken long at all if you'd just stayed out, since, you know, you wouldn't have been setting up.

It's also really frustrating to walk around you after class ends. See, when you're splayed out, belly down on the mat, while texting on your phone, you take up a good chunk of space. If you need to take a breather after an invigorating seven minute workout (it really did take you three minutes to get your mat right), can you do it with your legs closed next time? You'll be less of an obstruction, so thanks.

And, one more thing. When you are laying there, legs akimbo, texting whomever it is you're texting, can you please not hump the floor? I know the song is really good (hey, Rihanna can get me moving too), but I'd just really, really appreciate it if I didn't have to see your crotch bouncing up and down on a mat I may use next time I workout.

Again, thank you for your courtesy. I'm sure none of these things (arriving on time, getting off your phone, being respectful of others' space, and not hyper-sexualizing yourself) ever crossed your mind. But hey, that's okay. Now you know.

Yours, in core strength and in timeliness,
Nina

How to feed two adults and fund a home-brewing habit on $75.00 per week:

Step One: Get over yourself.

Organics are awesome, and so are natural food stores, but shopping exclusively at Whole Food's just isn't in the budget. Wal-Mart and Harris Teeter definitely are within budget, though. Especially if 100% organic isn't the goal. Also, the people watching at Wal-Mart is amazing and even better than the website.

Step Two: Learn to love cheap food.

I am a lover of really healthy things like fresh salads, blackberries on top of yogurt and granola, and chicken that came from, well, chickens, that got to live outside and not eat their brethren. I still really, really like all of that stuff, but I've also learned to love things like spaghetti, quesadillas, Top Ramen, and cheap tofu stir-fries. In short, I'm reliving college, only drinking better beer and getting more sleep.   

Step Three: Enlist the help of a trusty side-kick.

I have Barrett, who is way better at sticking to a budget than I am. Shopping together means we can talk each other down when we reach the tempting cliff of Eating Meat More Than Once a Week.

After all three steps, sticking to a budget becomes sort of like a game. Last week we came in at $67.55, and this week we topped out at $79.43, for a grand total of $146.98, still $3.02 under budget. We left the store looking like this:

And silently judging everyone around us.

I silently judged everyone this morning.

Today I went to the gym. This is kind of a big deal.

I used to be super into fitness and running and eating really healthy foods and all that. Actually, before I was into that I was really into happy hour and dining out. And before that I was really into exercising too much and eating sugar- and fat-free foods.

Now, before my most recent "used to be" (I think I'm counting these correctly) I was sort of in a slump. I'd exercised semi-regularly from about 2006 - 2011, even running a couple half-marathons, suffering through a full-marathon, and learning my way around the weight room at the gym. Then, in Spring 2011, I sort of just stopped.

A lot was going on at the time. I was nursing an IT-band injury, planning a cross-country move, being a bridesmaid in two weddings, and planning my own. And then I moved and was still doing all that stuff 3,000mi away from anyone I knew (except Barrett, of course). And then I threw a really crappy job on top of it all and just got into this cycle from May 2011 - August 2011 of sleeping, working, sitting, sleeping, working, sitting, sleeping, working, sitting... You get the idea. I was working at a cafe so I was up and about during the day, but mostly I was a bump-on-a-log who was really bummed out and probably depressed and just not in the mood to drag herself to the gym.

It was also really damn hot and humid and I hid from it all inside the air-conditioned walls of our apartment.

You would've thought that getting married meant I'd be lifting weights and running miles like the crazed, semi-disordered eating bride I was entitled to be. But... it didn't. I lifted weights a few times over the summer and just got really lucky that I didn't balloon up before the wedding. I actually did lose a few pounds, probably from latent dehydration, and my arms looked okay from hauling plates and dish-bins around all week. But, even though I looked okay, I didn't feel okay, and my cardiovascular health was slipping (omg.stairs.wtf).

So, when I settled into my cushy new job at the office, I thought I'd get on this awesome thing called a "schedule", and that I'd, you know, actually go to the gym.

Nope.

The months ticked by... August and September were still kind of hot. By October I'd made friends from work and had happy hours to attend. November we were busy doing things. December it started to get cold. Oh, and December started my weight gain.

We're not talking a lot of weight gain here. Probably not even five full pounds. However, we're talking enough pounds to make my pants tight. And you know what's worse than tight pants? Not being able to afford to buy new, loose pants. No one likes to be around a woman on her fat day, and I assure it's worse if she feels fat and broke.

So, I finally decided I'd do something about it. That decision to do something was made about two weeks ago. Last night, while watching the nth season of Biggest Loser, I loudly declared, "Dammit it! If 400lb people can workout, so can I! I'm going to the gym tomorrow!"

Then I foolishly texted Elyse and told her I would go workout with her. Like the slave driver champ she is , she took hold of my brazen statement and held me to it.

This morning we took a 6:30 AM spin class together.

When I left my apartment to go to work, my legs were already tired. By 3:00PM my abs were already sore (we didn't even do sit-ups). I was hungry all day long. I also had some crazy endorphin high, which was super awesome, but then crashed hard in the afternoon after my fix died. Stupid, stupid, fixes.

Anyway, the point of the matter is not that I did something great for myself or my health or my future yet-to-be-conceived children or anything. That's all well and good, and I'm really glad I'll be able to wear my pants for the foreseeable future. The point is that all I had to do to start feeling superior to everyone else was wake up at 0600 and go sit on a bike for 45-minutes. I even got to say things like, "I've been up for hours", while filling sipping coffee with coworkers at 8:45.

I tell ya, nothing kicks off a Thursday like knowing you earned every damn donut hole you procured from the office kitchen.

Brew Day means...

Gossip Girl day!

While Barrett is brewing his first IPA, I'm starting Season 3 of my new favorite time waster. I'm not loving the third season yet, but it is making me feel slightly nostalgic for college. It's also making me wish I'd been born into some sort of insanely wealthy family. That didn't happen, but the NC Education Lottery has been promising some decent payouts. Might be time to play my hand at some scratchers.

Third episode is about to start, and then I'm on spaghetti duty. Third blog of the new year down!

Being different is okay.

So, I lucked out big time in the husband lotto. I got a handsome Southern gentleman who is whip-smart, and all I had to do to find him was run a marathon, get addicted to a certain running website, and agree to spend a weekend with a total stranger. Our love story is pretty cool, by the way.

As lucky as I was we were to find each other, I feel like we're even luckier to be good partners, too. We don't exactly come from the same ilk, so our compatibility can sometimes be shocking. Do you remember this gem from pre-breakdown-on-national-television-Paula Abdul?

Opposites Attract (Women Love Cartoon Cats)

We aren't as opposite as Paula and the tomcat (in that we are both born of the same species), but we do have some differences.

For instance, Barrett is into things like Science, Running Fast, Treating Third Degree Burns, and Being Generally Successful at Life. I, on the other hand, am more into things that allow me to be comfortable, things like Jogging At a Conversational Pace, Hitting the Snooze Button, Being Content, and Avoiding Places Where Communicable Diseases Run Rampant. (As a back story, Barrett is now a Certified Nurse Assistant, meaning he can take your blood pressure, wipe your butt, and [if you're lucky] assist a doctor in the scraping and disinfecting of your open wound--more an that in another post).

Barrett attended a university with a romantic history and significant athletic culture; I attended a university that was younger than my parents and encouraged things like walking around barefoot.

At this very moment, Barrett is cleaning the kitchen while his made-from-scratch pasta sauce cooks down. When we picked meals to cook this week, I chose dishes that were almost already prepared (hello, boxed soup!) and involved minimal utensils (because finger foods are fun and only require a quick chop with the knife). Barrett still thinks cooking enjoyable, while I think it's something that distracts from easier things, like assembling a PB&J for dinner.

Now, I don't mean to say that Barrett is better than me. Let's face it, the things I'm in to (see: sleeping in), are pretty awesome. Barrett is in to awesome things, too (see: biochemistry), but while Barrett can understand and enjoy what I'm into (sleep), I can only merely pronounce what he's into (Le Chatelier's Principle -- apparently scientists speak Latin and French).

I'm not quite sure how we fit together so well. Barrett could probably find some science-y explanation, but I like to think that we simply balance each other out. When he's been sketching molecules for hours on end (they all look like Stop signs), I can be the one to suggest a quesadilla and Modern Family episode. When I want to hit snooze for the Nth time, he can present me with a rational argument for getting out of bed ("You will be late for work").

I love Barrett for all the reasons he's different than me, and I think he loves me because I'm different, too. I'm there when Barrett needs an easy-run day, and Barrett's there when I need to win my office March Madness pool.

We're different but kind of the same, and that makes us pretty okay together.

I will try to blog this year...

...more than six times.