bad days

There are those people on social media who are happy and smiling and always motivated to “do hard things” and “get after it.” And they end up on podiums and qualify for championships and have legit abs and triceps and glutes so powerful they could probably crack an acorn with their buttcheeks.

And then there is me.

This photo sums up this entire blog post.

I often feel like I suck so hard at triathlon that it’s comedy. You’d think that since I’ve been doing this shit since 2011 I would have actually developed – oh, I don’t know – some remote level of skill, or even just basic coordination. But I am the person who somehow manages to totally faceplant simply trying to get on my bike. (And no it wasn’t moving. I just fell for no reason and then bled in public and passersby were concerned and it was horribly embarrassing.)

I would also like to point out that my half marathon PR is from 2011 – yes, that is eight years ago – and since then I just seem to be running slower and getting injured more frequently. (I’m also really good at tripping on absolutely nothing while running. Maybe my true calling in life is to be a professional faller. Is there a Kona for clumsiness? Because I would crush that shit.)

And I cannot even tell you how frustrated I am with swimming right now (yes, this is like a complete 180 from how I felt in November). It's like no matter how hard I work and how many hours I spend in the pool and how early I get up for masters (seriously, why are all masters swim programs at like 6 a.m.?), I still can’t consistently break 2 minutes/100 yards. Yeah, every once in awhile I’ll surprise myself, but for the most part, nothing has changed speed-wise. (And I guarantee you it will be even worse in open water because once I am in that tight-ass wetsuit in a murky lake thinking of sea monsters and submerged disembodied limbs, all semblance of form is completely and totally forgotten.)

I went to a stroke correction clinic in January and spent half a day getting my stroke filmed and then subsequently picked apart by a classroom of people (now that was a humbling experience and I will be forever haunted by horrible images of myself executing what can only be described as the flop-flail of desperation). I am now constantly doing endless painful drills to attempt to correct everything I have spent my entire life doing wrong in the pool (and believe me, there is a lot).

A screenshot from the stroke analysis: I immediately see five things that are wrong. There are probably more. This is like a Highlights game for bad swimmers!

Honestly, sometimes I just want to cry into my goggles and give away my spandex and move to the mountains and stop talking to anyone who isn't a cat.

Except that knowing my luck, I’ll find a way to fall and crack my head open but no one will know so then I'll just lie there until I get eaten by my cats because that actually is a thing that happens in real life.

swimvember

Maybe you saw my tweet this morning.

Never in my life did I think I’d be bouncing out of bed at 5 a.m. to shovel the driveway because there was no way snow was going to make me miss masters swim.

Where the magic happens.

Over the past month or so, my whole attitude toward swimming has changed. Once upon a time, swimming was a source of dread, embarrassment, and sometimes even terror (tell me I’m not the only one who’s woken up panicked in the middle of the night, thinking about a looming CSS test). Now going to the pool is a highlight of my week, and I find myself wishing I could do it more often.

Part of this is due to joining masters (a.k.a. the best decision ever – besides cats and Big Ginger, of course). I love the people I swim with, I love the coaching, I love the challenge of new strokes (yes, I can fly now – it’s ugly and exhausting, but I can do it). I’m constantly being pushed out of my comfort zone – asked to attempt things I’ve never done before and risk failing in public, in spandex, in front of other people – and I really, really enjoy it.

I’m also grateful for Swimvember, my tri team’s month-long challenge geared toward getting everyone in the pool more often and building swim fitness. You earn points for each swim you complete, and there are bonus points for doing certain sets and workouts. All the points are tracked on a giant spreadsheet (Big Ginger would approve – spreadsheets are his jam), and while there are plenty of opportunities to win prizes (including cool stuff from Roka, which sponsors the challenge), I just really like seeing all the numbers on paper – keeps me accountable and motivated!

As a result of all of this swimming (32,800 yards this month as of today), I clocked my fastest 200 ever on Tuesday – 3:47. My previous PR was 4:05, so I am beyond ecstatic!

Here’s my holy-shit-I-just-did-that face.

Goggle eyes ftw.

hi, September. bye, September.

My boss started a new meeting process called three things. (And no, this isn’t a reference to the number of snacks I eat in every meeting. Although it could be. There was that one time I dropped an entire salad on the boardroom floor in the middle of a meeting with our whole curatorial staff and the editor of an important arts publication. I’m still embarrassed.) It’s about sharing the three projects that are top of mind at the moment.

So I’ll get to the point. Three things:

One

I got into Wilder -- a writing and running retreat led by former pro runner Lauren Fleshman – and leave for Maine tomorrow morning. I haven’t started packing at all and will probably spend tonight frantically throwing shit into a suitcase, but I’m beyond excited. It’s an honor to be selected as a participant.

 
My relationship with writing is weird. (And wasn’t that just the most profoundly literary sentence you’ve ever read in your whole life?) I love it and am terrified of it all at the same time. I want to start writing fiction again, but I still have PTSD from grad school. There’s something about creating that feels so naked and vulnerable. It’s bizarre – I have no problem making an ass out of myself in the pool (want to see me attempt the fly, anyone?) and putting in the hours for a massive goal like Ironman, but when it comes to sitting down and starting a short story (much less finishing one), I’m scared shitless.

So I’m hoping Wilder will be what I need – a way to shed the icky, competitive grad school feelings, get messy, and channel some of the same energy and passion I’ve put into triathlon, all while exploring a beautiful place (autumn in Maine!) and meeting inspiring humans. (And maybe, if I’m really lucky, some inspiring cats too – because you never know. Like my ultimate fantasy would be waking up to the sound of meowing outside my cabin and finding a tiny orange kitten who would then be my muse for the rest of the trip and then I would take her home to Minnesota and name her Merwin after W.S. Merwin – who cares if he’s a man, minor detail – and then my army of cats would become even stronger.)

Two

I wasn’t lying about the fly. I joined a masters swim group and have officially survived Week 3 of my attempt to become a “real” swimmer. I can now not only do a flip-turn, but a backstroke flip-turn as well! However, I still resemble a dying frog during breaststroke, and I laugh hysterically when the coach asks us to do IMs. Equally hilarious: Dolphin kick with a board, a.k.a. spastic wiggling in the middle of the pool while clinging to a piece of foam. (Dear people with kids: Make them go to swim lessons so they don’t become me when they are adults.)

Full disclosure: This isn't the Phillips pool. But this is an accurate depiction of my swimming.

Oh, and inside tip: If you live in Minneapolis and are looking for a masters group that is primarily beginning-to-intermediate swimmers who are super welcoming and totally focused on learning, this is the workout for you. It’s at the brand-spanking-new Phillips Aquatic Center and only costs $30 for the entire session, which runs through Dec. 20. (For comparison, yesterday I spent $40 ordering Halloween costumes for cats, and I’m pretty sure that won’t make me a better swimmer, so $30 for masters swim is like the best deal ever.)

Three

Is it just me, or as you get older, do you become more of an introvert? Don’t get me wrong – I still love throwing a good party (like the time we had Yia Vang from Union Kitchen come over for a cooking class and then somehow stayed up until midnight and a bottle of 1977 Port was consumed, among many other things).

But I want to leave the house less and less. (This is not helped by the fact that I recently discovered Instacart.) And now that it’s fall and the daylight is waning (I like that word – “waning”), all I think about is sleeping. (I’m also reading this book, which is basically about a woman who quits her life and sleeps for a year. My feelings on it fluctuate between “Wow, this character is remarkably flawed, with some serious psychological issues” and “Dear god, she’s a freaking genius.”)

if you're having a bad week

... and need something to laugh at, I'm totally here for you.

Yes, my wetsuit penis bump, my floppy hand, and my I'm-about-to-pass-out face are all here for you.

Still not enough?

Well, then watch me fail to use the video function on my GoPro and take a series of awful still photos instead: 

I know, right? I should totally be on the cover of Triathlete magazine.

Oh and please don't show these to Ryan Gosling because he'll try to break down my door and Big Ginger won't be happy about that.

my return to the pool

I’m happy to say I’m back in the pool and have been swimming pain-free for the past three weeks, which is great.

But you know what’s not great?

When you’re in the middle of a set and you feel random strands of stray hair winding themselves around your fingers. And you know in your heart of hearts that this is not your hair.

And then when you get to the wall and can finally stop swimming and check your hand, you discover a bird's nest of horror:

 Please pardon the gagging sounds.

winter continues to kick my ass

File this under most Minnesota thing ever: A snow shoveling injury.

Yes, that’s right. I obsessively shoveled our driveway so hard that I hurt my rotator cuff and haven’t been able to swim in over a week.

This is like a foot of snow.

Cow print athletic tape hiding my cupping bruise.

Winter: 1. Michaela: 0.

opt outside

You know what feels really damn good?

Being able to swim, bike and run outside in November.

Big Ginger and I spent the past week in Sacramento with my family. While we were there, we ran on the American River Trail ...

... swam in an outdoor pool ...

Can you tell I'm excited?

... and did the local turkey trot. (For the record, I missed a 5K PR by 11 seconds, which is amazing, since this race was super crowded, I haven't been running much recently, and I'm recovering from a bad cold.)

Official finish time: 25:31. My 5K PR is 25:21. So close!

And then we came home and -- holy holiday miracle -- it was warm enough to ride outside.

just like goldilocks

When I left my apartment, I also left this behind.

No more taking an elevator downstairs to my very own lap pool that I hardly ever had to share with anyone. (Although when I did have to share, it was annoying because the pool was so narrow it would turn into a washing machine whenever you tried to split the lane. Also sometimes people would have parties and hang out on the deck and drink beer and look fabulous, and then I'd show up in a stupid swim cap and goggles and feel like the biggest dork in the world.)

Anyway, now I am on the hunt for a new pool. I'm trying to swim in as many different places as possible. Ideally, I want a pool that's close to either home or work, has convenient lap swim times and isn't crowded. (While I don't mind splitting a lane, circle-swimming stresses me out.)

I recently did a trial membership at the YMCA on Blaisdell.

The location is great -- close enough to work for me to squeeze in a swim on my lunch break. The pool usually has three or four lanes for lap swimming, and the second-floor women's locker room is adults-only, super quiet, clean and private. However, the water temperature is really warm. And while my lunchtime swims were nice and only required splitting a lane, I made the mistake of trying to swim on a Friday after work (because I thought everyone would be at happy hour), and the pool was so packed with screaming children who kept crossing into the lap swim lanes that the lifeguards had to interfere. And then on top of that, I had to circle swim. Ugh.

This week I'm checking out L.A. Fitness in Richfield.

I arrived at 6 a.m. today, and there was only one other person in the whole pool. I had my own lane for my entire workout. Good water temp, clean water and a well-maintained pool. I like the locker room too -- nothing fancy, but still comfortable, and the showers are a good size. And I was able to stop at home on the way to work, drop off my swim gear and grab something to eat. (Confession: I may or may not have had a frozen burrito for breakfast.)

I have to swim again tomorrow, and I'll probably try this pool.

Just kidding.

Although 4300 yards in that might be pretty entertaining.

adulting and stuff

Since my last post, I've gotten married, traveled to Costa Rica (where running on a shadeless beach in a very humid 90 degrees is ill-advised), organized my first media event at work, experienced my first art opening, applied for a home loan, advocated for saving the NEA and NEH, witnessed the ugliness the current political climate seems to be unearthing, joined an interfaith women's book club (yes, I am very unsettled by current politics), improved my swim speed (holy shit, right?) and finally washed my car (and of course it snowed the next day).

No wedding photo for you; instead: The car wash!

Naturally, my apartment is an explosion of shoes and dirty spandex and kitty litter crumbs and unopened mail. And my front closet is packed so full of boxes of god-knows-what because whenever anyone comes over, my "cleaning" strategy involves throwing all of my piles in a box and hiding it. And the other night Mouse barfed in the bed, and I was too tired to get up and clean it, so I just kept sleeping. And I never actually finished the reading for the book club. And I haven't cleaned my bathtub even once since I moved into my apartment a year ago. And I need a haircut and a chiropractic adjustment and a pedicure. And there are a bunch of vegetables in the refrigerator that are going to go bad unless I cook them immediately. And I got a power meter but it's still in the box because I haven't had time to sit down and figure out how to install it.

And thus we have the adulting paradox: The more you do adult things, the less you feel like an actual adult.

hello, new year

Wait, what just happened? 

Mouse's thoughts exactly.

Oh right. It's 2017.

And since I am completely incapable of doing anything in moderation, I'm jumping in full force. I have a new coach -- fellow Coeur teammate and all-around inspiration Liz Waterstraat (read this immediately because it summarizes all the feelings) -- and did my first bike-run of the year today. (IM Wisconsin, I'm coming for you!) I'm also obsessed with the insanity that is the Coeur century swim challenge (100 x 100), and even though I'm in no shape to swim that far all at once, I'm breaking it into pieces and did 3,000 yards Thursday and another 4,000 yards yesterday (thank you, pull buoy and fins).

And I'm cleaning up my nutrition, too. I spent Christmas in Wisconsin with the mister's family, and every day involved Wisconsin-style Old Fashioneds (brandy or whiskey, sweet or sour, garnished with asparagus spears or mushrooms, for real), a shit-ton of cheese and the world's most amazing egg bake -- hash browns, cream of mushroom soup, ground meat, all topped with another shit-ton of cheese.

See? Mushrooms.

So I'll be attempting the Whole 30 program -- no dairy, no grains, no soy, no gluten, no sugar, no legumes, no alcohol. I'm gluten-intolerant, so that piece is nothing new for me, but no grains at all means no rice. Um, hello? I'm Asian. There's a strong possibility I might shrivel up and die. (Note to self: Teach the cats how to dial "911" in case of a rice emergency.)

Whole 30 egg bake: Awesome, but no shit-ton of cheese.

I've started incorporating some Whole 30 recipes into my meal planning the past few days. (I even made my own mayonnaise because apparently store-bought mayo has sugar in it.) I'll dive in completely this Friday because Thursday is -- wait for it -- my going-away happy hour to celebrate the last day at my current job! That's right: I've got a new adventure lined up. (But more on that later. Because I know you love suspense. And waiting three months for my next blog post, in which I will totally forget what I previously told you I'd write about so then you will actually never know anything about my new job. See? I'm self-aware and know my flaws.)

This year is going to be big, folks. Assuming I don't go into rice withdrawal and jump out the window, of course.

#questionmadness (and the bathroom drain)

So the mister and I swam tonight (we're both targeting Madison 70.3 in June and need to get back in the pool more regularly), and his ear was full of water afterward, so he decided to use the ear wax removal system on it, but unfortunately he chose the "questionable" sink in the house for this procedure, and as luck would have it, the stopper got stuck in the drain, and he now is trying to learn plumbing from YouTube.

Which brings me to tonight's question: Why live a life that's perceived as mad? Or in this particular instance: Why train for a crazy-ass sport like triathlon when it means you're up until midnight taking your sink apart and attempting to unstick the stopper by pushing it up from underneath with a screwdriver? 

Or perhaps even more pressing: Why spend half your rent on Ironman registration and devote six months (or more) to training and have no social life and then cross the finish line but not get anything but a medal, a hat, a T-shirt and some pizza that you can't eat anyway because you're allergic to gluten?

Because I can't imagine living life any other way. I love the people I've met through triathlon. I love the never-ending quest for self-improvement. I love being able to swim, bike and run in beautiful places. I love how triathlon keeps me honest and shows me that anything is possible.

Even learning plumbing from YouTube. 

Madness is a beautiful thing.

why I ate a sandwich just now

Is it just me, or does swimming make you ridiculously hungry, hungrier even than long rides or long runs or long rides followed by long runs?

I'm back in the pool. Not going to lie -- it's been awhile. In fact, it's been since the end of August, which is when open water swim season came to a close here in Minneapolis. (I had been swimming at Cedar Lake every Monday night throughout the summer -- absolutely loved it, even though sometimes it was windy and choppy and the buoys drifted around a lot.)

Random thoughts I had in the pool tonight:

1. This swimsuit still fits, so at least there's that.
2. Oh wait. I take that back. Side boob.
3. At least I'm not out of breath and dying.
4. Everything about swimming is a mystery to me and I feel like I'm trying really hard to solve it but I haven't had a breakthrough yet.
5. I should find a masters group. Maybe that will help.
6. Wow, this isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.
7. I can't believe the mister and I met at team swim when I was in goggles and a swim cap. Good lord.
8. I wonder how often they clean this pool.
9. The last time I practiced flip turns, I got food poisoning afterward and threw up. Flip turns and food poisoning are likely totally unrelated, but now I'm afraid.
10. Remember when I could barely swim one length of the pool?
11. September 2017. Lake Monona. And then running up the helix afterward to transition.
12. Must. Swim. More. Often.

never say never

Things I never thought I'd say in my life but have confidently announced since moving here:

"Sure, I'd love to go to prenatal yoga!" (Let me remind you that I am not pregnant. Also, I really need to tell you the rest of this story. Because it's ridiculous and so good.)

"I actually really like working on crisis communications!" (This story is not as interesting.)

"All day I've been looking forward to swimming in open water!" (I know, right? Who am I?)

But can you really blame me for watching the clock so I could get to this ASAP?

This is kind of a stupid photo, but it's all I have, so you're welcome

Yes, those are buoys. And there were also lifeguards in kayaks. That's right: An organized, well-supported open water swim in a cool lake on a sunny day. And this happens Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays at Lake Nokomis and Mondays at Cedar Lake throughout the summer for a mere $35 one-time swim club membership fee.

Minneapolis is bomb. And man, it felt incredible to get in that water and try to swim in a straight line.

But wait: It gets better.

 

A solid swim effort should never go unrewarded. Afterward, I treated myself to Thai tea ice cream from Milkjam Creamery, which is pretty much where I'd like to retire and spend the rest of my years.

liberty tri race report

When you check your Garmin after the race and realize you swam 1.1 miles.

But the event was an Olympic distance tri.

Oops.

Other than my scenic tour of Lake Rebecca (which included choosing the wrong buoy to sight on and swimming diagonally across the course toward oncoming traffic), Liberty was great. Yes, I was mosquito bait in the transition area (welcome to Minnesota), and yes, the weather was effing hot -- heard it hit 90 degrees on the run course by 10 a.m.

But the bike was stronger than expected (I did end up riding Minivan), and I was ready for the run -- knew the course, knew it would be hot as hell, planned and executed accordingly.

And while I was never in a place to be competitive (this just isn't something that's ever a reality for me unless there are like three people in my age group), I set a new PR of 3:16:57 (compared to 3:30:01 in 2013 at Monte Rio, which is a fast course with a much easier swim and better weather). So there is hope.

The Minnesota contingent: Me, Kendra, Mandy, Erin

But hands down, the best part of the day was hanging out with my Coeur teammates. Love is an understatement here. These ladies are welcoming, supportive and inspiring -- the women you see giving their all while simultaneously smiling and cheering for everyone out there. I'm especially grateful for Kendra -- the pre-race "therapy session," the post-race McDonald's run. (Hey, we earned it!)

Anyway, as Vineman looms (holy crap), I'm making notes on what needs fixing:

First and foremost, everything about swimming. (You know those stories about people who get struck by lightning and suddenly develop a new skill? Yeah. That kind of miracle.) The list is endless: Sighting. Getting used to what wearing a wetsuit feels like again. Translating all of the work I've put into form in the pool to open water. (Why is it that as soon as I get in a lake, everything I've been doing with my stroke is completely forgotten?)

My left knee, hamstring, IT band, hip. Basically everything about my upper left leg feels borderline scary and needs TLC.

Eating while waiting for my wave to start, especially since my Vineman wave is two hours (that's right -- two hours) after the pro start. Note to self: Bring a bar and finish it.

Shifting. The Liberty bike was rolling; Vineman will be similar, but with larger rollers and three significant climbs. While I'm feeling more and more comfortable on Minivan, shifting at the optimal time into the optimal gear is still a work in progress.

And so it continues! One race down, and so much more to go.

really important life thoughts

Today I got invited to a "baby shower barbecue." And my immediate reaction was: "Are we going to be grilling babies?"

Clearly, this is why I have cats.

Although recently I've found myself questioning the idea of "owning" cats. "Own" just doesn't feel right. I like to think of our relationship as much more mutual. (Or mewtual. Mewtual! See what I did there?)

I also like to think of myself as a completely sane, reasonable person.

Anyway, tonight I swam and it wasn't as painful as Monday's swim, so it's possible I may be recovering from my cheese binge. Either that, or I've accepted pain as a part of life and stopped fighting it and instead welcomed it as another glass bead in the kaleidoscope of human existence.

I really hope it's the former.

very sexy dream angel v-string pull buoy

Today got a little crazy with work and multiple health-related appointments (don't even ask about the tooth right now -- this is truly a never-ending saga of stupid) and other events, so I didn't get my swim in until later this evening.

And my swim had really, really long intervals (100s on 3:00 -- plenty of time to wonder about important things like if I fart while swimming, can other swimmers tell or do the bubbles just look like normal swimming bubbles) so it took me a really, really long time to finish the workout. As a result, by the time I was done, there was no one else in the pool area except me.

And The Random Lady in the Jacuzzi.

Who was very interested in my pull buoy.

Random Lady: "Where did you get that?"

Me: "This? I brought it from my house."

Random Lady: "It looks like it's from Victoria's Secret. It's their colors. Like if you buy $70 worth of panties, they give it to you for free. I would buy $70 worth of panties if they were giving that away."

(The cats in this photo give zero effs about swimming.)

I will never look at my pull buoy the same way again.

misadventures, per usual

So I was just now Googling "chocolate poo mold." Because I'm doing Swim for (Dear) Life again next week and our team is Team Fecal Coliform Bacteria (which is why you should never let me name anything) and no one has donated to my fundraising page (which is here, in case you would like to change that) and I'm hoping to entice people with homemade chocolate poo. (My logic is flawless, thank you very much.)

Anyway, since this post has pretty much already gone down the toilet, yesterday my bike peed herself. 

Mouse's first instinct: Play in it!

You'll recall I'm having hydration setup issues, so this time, I decided to give Minivan's built-in bladder system a shot. I followed the directions, and everything seemed fine until I poured liquid into the bladder and my bike started peeing.

The problem: The straw kept getting disconnected from the bladder, and then all the liquid would seep out.

I was under a bit of a time crunch yesterday (this is what happens when the man who cuts your hair is the type who doesn't talk at all while he does the deed so you think maybe he is silently judging you especially since you showed up at your appointment wearing a trucker hat because your hair was that bad and he actually kind of scoffed at the hat but then he does such an incredible job that you keep going back even though you wonder if maybe this is an unhealthy relationship), so I abandoned the bladder and relied on my bottles instead. (Thankfully, none of them fell out this time.)

Of course, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor and seems to want to toy with my stress levels, I got stuck in a footrace 30 minutes into my ride.

I re-routed and got back on track. Although not without a lot of grumbling and also my heart rate monitor wasn't working and I was still frustrated by the peeing incident and it was really tempting to just go home and get on the trainer. But eventually I got over it all and regained a more positive mindset.

Only to get stuck in a second footrace.

Not shown: The spectator who asked if I brought lunch to pass the time.

At this point, I was convinced the universe wanted me to have bad hair. But all those people eventually passed, and I got my ride done. It was long and slow and cumbersome -- still trying to build that relationship with Minivan. Shifting is coming more naturally, and my neck and shoulders are hurting less, but I still find the rear water cages awkward and am a bit too fidgety with positioning.

However, at least things with nutrition are going well. I really love this stuff. It may replace the hot dog for me. (Which is a good thing, since carrying a hot dog around for hours in your jersey pocket sort of seems like an invitation for food poisoning.)

I guess I did bring lunch. Mmm. Pizza.

I eventually finished my ride. And then I did a T run (because I'm only nine weeks away from Ironman now -- gah). And then I came home and found this on the living room floor:

That would be the attachment for the new hydration system.

I almost put her on Craigslist.

And that wasn't the only surprise.

Nothing like piles of cat puke to warm the heart.

However, I did make it to my hair appointment on time. And I was so tired from my workout that I barely noticed the judging and was actually pretty thankful for the silence and lack of small talk.

pull my zipper

So I got a new wetsuit.

And I spent a good portion of my evening attempting to try it on but failing miserably.

The downside of having three cats as roommates (besides cleaning up their poop and vomit all the time and chasing them with a spray bottle while yelling "No!"): There's no one to zip up your brand-new wetsuit for you. Which makes it really hard when you can't figure out if the wetsuit is too small or if you just didn't put it on right.

My lower back kind of hurts now from my unsatisfying solo zipper-pulling efforts.

(And yes, I wrote that sentence that way on purpose.)

Wait, it gets better.

This is the part where I cut off my feet and wait for the search party to find me, right?

And you wonder why I don't have my pro card.

holidays

My goal for the holidays: To clean my apartment so it looks like a real grown-ass adult lives here. However, I am currently doing everything in my power to avoid cleaning. Like repeatedly checking work e-mail, even though it's a holiday week and no one is e-mailing me. (Come on, guys. Can't you at least send me a cat video?) And sipping my green smoothie like it's a 2001 Sauternes instead of spinach. And making a baked potato and actually waiting for the oven to completely pre-heat before putting the potato in. Also, it's sunny in Seattle right now, and that's such a rare thing, so really I should be outside hiking around somewhere instead of cleaning.

And honestly, can you blame me for procrastinating?

Welcome to the vortex.

I refer to this as the shit room. It's where I throw random crap on the floor and shut the door so I don't have to deal with it anymore. It's quite possible there's an ex-boyfriend in there somewhere.

Too bad my 3-year-old nephew lives in Sacramento. He asked Santa for a real vacuum this Christmas.

So very Asian.

Hey, kid. You can come to Seattle any time you want. Your aunt has a lot of, um, activities planned for you.

Anyway, some other highlights from Christmas, which I spent in Sacramento with my family:

The gift that keeps giving.

Christmas Eve sausage party!

The theme was Meat, Lots of It.

See previous caption.

After all that, I had to get a workout in. And swimming in the California sunshine in a completely uncrowded pool is just so awful.

Happy holidays from my pig sty to yours.