Thought it would be nice to start us off with a hilarious photo of the sock thief-in-chief. This is Beatrix’s “Oh sh!t, you caught me!” face.
So, hi. I wrote this post MONTHS ago and didn’t post it. I don’t understand myself at all. Enjoy.
I hate to be one of those people that starts working out again and won’t shut up about it, but my goodness, I have turned into a limp noodle person. Last night I did the first workout of a fitness plan Colette coerced me into doing (okay, she didn’t really coerce me— this is done out of my own freewill), and now I hurt. Sitting in a desk chair all day with sore abs is not enjoyable.
The thing is, I eat pretty darn well until after dinner and then I want sweets and any exercise beyond walking my dog is a no-go. I don’t really need help in the food department beyond not letting myself eat dessert, but exercise? Uh. I go through waves of being really good at consistently working out and then waves of just not getting up off my butt at all. You can relate, right? RIGHT?!
It was a long winter, you guys. I did a lot of sitting and eclair eating. And now I’m a limp noodle.
Oh, and I just realized the Great British Baking Show comes back in two weeks! Yeah, I’m done for after that—the show sends me into a baking frenzy. Why am I even trying?
I’m learning html. I’ve known a teensy bit and use it at work and on websites I’ve put together here and there, but I’m actively trying to learn and use more. It’s a skill I’ve had on my annual personal goals list for a good couple of years. ‘Bout time I got around to it.
I built a little website with what I learned in a short online class I took and it was a blast. Maybe I’ll start building websites from scratch for people. Business number two!
I have at least ten business ideas and I have a plan in the works for a legitimate second business (related to Noir, an off-shoot you could say). I just can’t stop, you guys. I get comfortable in my new norms too quickly and then I need to change. I need to take up a hobby (napping?) instead of starting businesses.
A couple of weeks ago I got to spend my work day at Willis Tower (Sears tower for you nit-picky people, you know who you are) with that view. It was a fun day of major learning and eating deep dish.
Also, Willis has an Argo Tea cafe which I really need to become a thing in Milwaukee. I mean, tea cafes?! YES. I had sparkling mint tea with lime juice + cane sugar. It rocked my socks off.
I read yesterday that the best age to get pregnant according to fertility doctors is 25. And the average age is 26.3.
I’m 26.8 (I’M 27.1 NOW, JUST SAYING) so pretty much I’m already an old foagie who will never have children. I mean, that’s what I was supposed to get out of the story, right?
I’m actually really happy this information was shared on a popular website for women my age because, seriously, who are these pregnant 26 year olds? I don’t know any and maybe it’s because I’m generally surrounded by career oriented people?
Honestly, I feel regularly judged by people my age for already being married. I get a lot of, “Oh yeah, I forget you’re married.” and “Whoa, it’s weird to think someone my age has already been married for that long.” Heaven forbid I mention the idea of kids to some of my friends.
I’m walking a fine line with how much I want to share about my life here. I really enjoy blogs where they go all out and you know the all of their life deets. You get to know the writer and then it turns into a whole supportive little community.
On the other hand, I’m a private person. It generally takes a long time for me to tell my friends, and even my family, the personal details of my life.
I find myself writing these personal posts on a regular basis and never making them public. I think about how I would handle the news or opinions I’m writing about if I were to talk to someone face to face and, frankly, I’d never divulge the same details I’m comfortable writing out.
I guess that’s just the way I need it to be right now.
P.S. Did I mention I’m bronde now?