What I planned on writing about today was the Nuggets vs. Lakers game and how they won 118-112 and ruined the Lakers 7-0 winning streak… but alas I have no motivation since the game didn’t get over until after 11, I didn’t actually get to bed until almost one, and it is now 11:15 the following night. I’m tired. So, if by chance there are any good pictures from the game or details my foggy brain has forgotten I’ll post them tomorrow. For now, au revoir!

And, no, I did not proof this.

I would never describe myself as having a sweet tooth. I’m usually a salt person and would pick a plate of hot steaming french fries over a chocolate chip cookie any day. Lately, though, I’ve been having intense sugar cravings — maybe because I’m trying to cut back, part of getting healthy kick?

I’ve craved everything from soda to pumpkin bars to cupcakes to ice cream, and everything in between… but the main and insatiable craving comes everyday in the form of Milk Duds. I love them both because of and in spite of the fact that they are a caramel, chocolate candy  that semi-resembles deer droppings. They are just so amazing.

Milk Duds on top of being spectacular are one of the foods that will forever remind me of my dad. There are several foods that do that: Fritos, Milk Duds, Grape Popsicles, Cornbread… and I love them all just a little more because we used to eat them together.

Growing up, my Dad spent a good portion of time working in Aspen. He published a local magazine and actually had BE THERE to get things done – go figure. Every once in a while my mom would give the “ok” for my sister and I to skip school for a few days to go to Aspen with my Dad. We’d take ski lessons on Buttermilk mountain while he worked and go get brownies afterwards at a little café downtown. After our time was up we’d stop at the gas station in Basalt, CO and load up on goodies. Milk Duds and Fritos. We’d spend the next four hours together eating, listening to Pasty Kline or no music at all. I loved those days. And I still love Milk Duds.

*Milk Dud Image by Pillie Bee

After a delicious burrito lunch and a stroll through Old Town we made our way over to New Belgium for a tour. If you’ve never taken the New Belgium tour it is something you MUST add to your to do list. I’ll give you a mini-sneak peak of the awesomeness:

You start your tour by the big red arrow and the girl in the yellow shirt that looks a little creepy:

They give you tons of beer samples — I had to pass mine off after a while:

Then tons of cool things all over the place, like the rings hanging from ceiling in brew house 2, a twisty slide, postcards you can send for free, and all kinds of wall art and sayings just to make you feel inspired:

We got a “private” tasting at the end:

Before heading over to the bar for our final sample:

It was great… and makes me miss Fort Collins even more! Try it out, I promise you won’t be disappointed!

I love food. Almost all of my posts make some reference to food, my love for it, going to get it, not being able to move because I ate so much my pants won’t zip and I have to be in a horizontal position so I can suffer less than if I were standing.

Sometimes I spend time thinking about Anorexia — and how there is no way in hell, even if the only thing available for eating was mushrooms, would I be able to not eat. Maybe for about an hour and then my hunger would take over and I’d devour the mushrooms, gagging them down the whole way. Barf, makes me want to barf thinking about it. Mushrooms… and raw tomatoes happen to be two of the things I don’t want in my mouth. Ever.

Back to eating. I think about it. I remember being in high school, in Hawaii on vacation, and right after eating breakfast I wanted to know where we were eating lunch and dinner. Why you ask? Oh, because I wanted something to look forward to. As if HAWAII wasn’t enough.

I get to work in the morning and begin planning out my snacking schedule in my head — right up there with my to do list and checking all my emails.

9:17 – WALNUTS AND A TOOTSIE POP!

10:46 – APPLE WITH PEANUT BUTTER AND HONEY!

12:32 – LUNCH, It’s time for LUNCH!!

2:13 – COOKIE TIME!!

I really am that excited, but only in my head. So, when it comes time to diet or eat “healthy”, my whole being suffers. It’s hard for me to dream about celery or fantasize about dried peas. So instead I dwell on everything I can’t eat, like that cinnamon roll with the cream cheese frosting or a good ‘ol box of mac ‘n cheese.

Knowing all of this, I have to tell you that I’ve gain a bit of weight. I haven’t gained 50 lbs. or anything, but I’ve gained more than I would have liked. Damn all that delicious pizza and birthday cake I consumed over the month of August.

I weighed the most I’ve ever weighed mid-way through my senior year in college. I spent the next 5-6 months working out, eating little and building some unhealthy habits. But, I lost about 20 lbs and kept most of it off until this summer when I threw caution into the wind and ate like crazy. I’m blaming part of it on having a roommate and a boyfriend that throughly enjoy delicious food. Cheesecake anyone? The answer is almost always a resounding yes.

So, I’m trying to get healthy, again. Trying  get back down to where I was and then some, but do it in a healthier way. I’m nervous. Losing weight sucks because not eating french fries sucks. But, that’s not why I’m nervous.  I’m nervous because I’m telling you, and you, and you. And now I have to be accountable. I have a fear of failure… so be nice. K?

*Photo Credit: B Tal

1.) Making something delicious for dinner.

2.) Going to the pool this weekend.

3.) Going to the beach in a couple of weeks.

4.) Disneyland.

5.) More summer BBQ’s.

6.) The leaves changing.

7.) The annual library book sale this fall. In which I get hundreds of books for next to nothing.

And just for fun a few things I’m not looking forward to:

1.) Buying Charles some dog surgery.

3,) The end of summer.

4.) Stepping in more barf. Or poop. Or other dog business.

What are you looking forward to?

*Photo Credits: Let Ideas Compete, Martin Cathrae, Visual Panic

Dear Mother Nature,

Get with the freaking picture and work on summer and summer like temperatures.

Thankyouverymuch,

Megan and the rest of the state of Colorado

And back to our regularly scheduled programming: For as long as I can remember I have loved rain. I love the smell, the sound, the laziness, the everything that is rain. I always thought I was meant for the pacific northwest. I knew I needed to live in Seattle or Portland or somewhere else where rain was the primary weather. I thought if only it rained every single day that I would be infinitely happy. Well, that entire thought process, that was years in the making, changed drastically this weekend.

The weather this past weekend, well really the past 4-5 days has included rain/constant drizzle, fog, gray skies, temperatures in the 40′s and overall gloomy weather. This is not how it is supposed to be in Colorado, in June. For the freaking record.

I have since devised the top 10 reasons that I cannot live in a constantly rainy climate, all learned this weekend:

1.) Productivity will be 0. My mind will be completely and utterly occupied with thoughts of hot chocolate, fireplaces and good books. Day dreaming would hit an entirely new level.

2.) Weekends, what weekends? I will spend the entire weekend wanting to nap or snuggle. Because, after all the rain is perfect for napping and snuggling and doing absolutely nothing.

3.) I will go broke. Why you ask? Because movies are also perfect for rainy weather and I will spend my non-existent fortune on going to movies and buying cheesy chick flicks to watch from my bed. While drinking hot chocolate. Note: Starbucks bill will also increase due to hot chocolate consumption.

4.) I will get fat. See #1 and #3 for my activity levels and hot chocolate consumption which will be considerable contributors to my weight gain. But the major issue will be all the comfort food (mac n’ cheese, cake, potato soup) that I will make “because it’s rainy and I deserve it”. Who said curves and flub aren’t sexy.

5.) I will have to shave my head. My hair, here in CO, lives in a state of straight. I blow dry it straight and it more or less obediently behaves the rest of the day. However, with even the slightest hint of moisture, rain or humidity the waves break themselves out of their straightened ways and create a hodge  podge of trailer mess on top of my head. So I’d have to shave my head to accommodate.

6.) I’ll never look fashionable. Sweat pants are required on rainy days, which have their merits. Attractiveness is not one of them. Also, trying on clothes when it’s cold and rainy? Not going to happen. Just get used to the sweatpants, there isn’t any other option.

7.) I will become a hermit. If traffic in Seattle/Portland/Other rainy cities is anything like Denver in the rain I wouldn’t handle it very well. There would be tears and shaken fists. After a few months I would most likely decide that traveling about isn’t worth my effort and hole up to watch movies in bed wearing sweat pants. Never leaving.

8.) I would become a drunk. Turns out that rain can make a girl like me feel a little down. Maybe it’s all that time to really sit and think and dwell and wonder. And then realize that life is full of all sort of complexities and that those complexities would be easier understood with a glass or two or three of red wine. Everyday. In the rain.

9.) My insurance would drop me. I’m a klutz and I fall, trip, slip and run into things on quite the regular basis. Now add slippery, wet conditions to my life and I’d become a regular resident of the local hospital. But, casts/stitches/bruising is really not all that appealing given my fear of needles and other pointy, stabby, broken things. After the incessant medical bills my insurance company would provide a tidy break-up letter.

10.) I’m out of ideas. So #10 is dedicated to my sad realization that I am not meant for rain. I’m also not meant for tiny swim suits. What?!? They are both water related.

So that’s what I learned. I have high hopes for the sunshine and high temperatures that are “predicted” for the coming week. Come on Mother Nature, I can only handle so many of your weather shenanigans.

I’m a happy person… and sometimes I can even be comical. My life is one constant happening after another and I can promise you it’s one fairly entertaining ride. But, I’ve put off a lot of subjects that I’ve wanted to write about because I wasn’t sure I could make them witty, I was scared I’d be sharing too much of myself, I was scared who would read it, I was scared of being stupid… With that said, I’m throwing caution to the wind and having a go at it.

Heartbreak. I have so many friends that couldn’t tell you what heartbreak feels like or what it’s like to feel as if world is collapsing around you. They could tell you what its like to make a drunken mistake, to have a random Sunday adventure, to not have a guy call after a few dates, but not many of them could legitimately tell you what it is like to have their heart broken — shattered.  And I’m envious. I feel like I can write about this now, I can write about what it was like and how it affects you because it happened to me. It happened to me several years ago, so it’s no longer unbearably raw – I can write about it with a sane perspective. Well, as sane as I’m ever going to get.

We all know the story, it’s nothing new — nothing that hasn’t happened before. My story was unique to me, it happened to me, but means, most likely, absolutely nothing to you. It went a little something like this…

Girl meets boy. Girl and Boy get together. Girl and Boy fall in love. Girl and Boy are together for 3 years. Boy leaves Girl.

For me, heart break was for the movies, something dramatic and broken that wouldn’t and couldn’t happen to me. It was for everyone else. Having someone you’ve grown to love, someone you call your best friend look you in the eyes and say they don’t love you anymore and walk away is a feeling I’m not sure I’ll ever forget. I have and will continue, of course, to have that feeling numbed with time… but having someone deem me not worth loving anymore, of not wanting or needing me in their life, not worth their effort, has forever torn a little piece of me away. A piece I know I can’t get back.

As my heart broke I knew I had become the broken record to a lot of my, never been through it, happy friends and even family. I knew every time I seemed down, tear-stained or couldn’t quite pull together the fake smile they were all thinking “Why can’t she get over it?”,  ”What’s the big deal?”, “This has gone on way too long…”,  ”If I have to hear about how happy they used to be I’m going to kill myself”.

I’m assuming its true for most everyone. All of those people in your life don’t understand and most of them, to this day, can’t say they do. I always felt bad for inflicting my pain on them, I felt bad for making them listen… worried I might be using up their sympathy and wondered if they’d be there again if I needed them. And that weighed on me even more.

There are days, now, when I replay it all in my head. I watch it all happen and it hurts, to this day, but it’s bearable. I learned and will forever be grateful for the lessons I may have otherwise surpassed. But that doesn’t mean I’m grateful for the suffering and self-doubt. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. You torture yourself, it’s all in the cycle of events.

A lot of self blame…

What did I do? Maybe if I lost a few pounds? Am I not worth keeping in your life? What’s wrong with me?

A lot of anger…

Why did I let this happen. What if I had done this instead? Why can’t I get anything right?

A lot of lonely nights…

Choking back tears. I miss him. I’m alone — alone.  It’s gone, and it’s not coming back.

But in the end you grow up, you put on your big girl panties and get on with life. And day by day it all gets a little easier.

Over the past few months I’ve watched friends suffer and it hurts me to watch them. I want to grab them, hug them and tell them that all the doubts and fears they are trying to push away are unfounded. Tell them they are worthy, that they deserve it all, that I’ll give them a cookie and it will be ok. But I can’t. I can listen. I can offer what little advice I have. I can be there, and that’s all.

I know from here on out we’ll share something that not everyone can. We’ll know what it was like, we’ll share the experience and we’ll be that much closer because of it. We won’t be free of heartbreak or suffering because life is full of it. I may watch them hurt and they’ll watch me suffer. And it’s going to be hard. Maybe harder each time? I don’t know.

But I do know it won’t be glossy. Heartbreak isn’t majestic and it isn’t glamorous. It’s painful. It’s full of mascara and tear-stained pillows, swollen cheeks, swaying between loss of appetite and emotional eating, sad songs, replaying of every painful  moment… over and over, trying desperately to cling to a shred of unrealistic hope, purging and trying to hold on all at the same time. It’s lonely.

*”After a journey” photo by eflon.

I’m in the great state of Pennsylvania this weekend. I’m certain that anyone who has come into contact or had more than a 10 second interaction with me over the past month believes I’ll be arriving in Philadelphia with a bib strapped on, fork in hand. When it comes to Philadelphia all I talk about is the food. And my friend Liz. Obviously.

So far in my life there are two great cities for eating — I know there are probably a million more out there, but right now I just can’t seem to wrap my head around anything but the deliciousness in San Fransisco and Philadelphia. They’re both like Las Vegas for eating… What happens in Philly stays in Philly. We won’t mention the 5,000 calories I consumed that day or the bottle of wine and cake I had with dinner. Which of course never happened. I’ve been eating “healthy” (cough, ahem) the past few weeks with full anticipation that it would all go flying out the window once I landed in the capital of Philly Cheese steaks and canned cheese. When it’s time to return someone will have to pry a sandwich out of my plumped up hands. But that’s where I am. In case you’re wondering. Full update on my Philly adventures to come.

Moving Season

Once again, it’s moving season here in the Megan and Meghan household. You ask “What is this talk of moving season?”. Well I am here to fill you in on the wonders and joys of moving season.

Moving season is like being pregnant with out the morning sickness and birth of a jam handed, sticky child nine months later. You can eat what you want, when you want because after all god forbid we waste food. At the same time eating out everyday is equally acceptable as you don’t want to dirty the dishes you already packed or exert any additional energy planning a meal.

In our house moving season also consists of burning a new CD featuring the likes of Kelly Pickler, Miley Cyrus, Madonna and other artists that allow us to sing out our frustration at the fact that the hand blender just *won’t* fit into that box. We also take advantage of the ability to drink. Wine, blended beverages, bloody mary’s, mojitos etc. Similar to food we just can’t let good alcohol go to waste… we would have to do some serious repentance if we did that. Maybe I could hit up the confessional for that one… then again maybe not.

So if you’re having a dull day or are in need of some strategically placed frustration head on over. We’ll feed you creamed corn, Lima beans, and a half a trout (that’s really all we have left), while making you a mojito with brandy (well after all we drank the rum already, geez you have high expectations).