Safely in Stara Zagora

I have arrived safely in Stara Zagora and will update with a thorough (and, dare I say, exciting) account of my adventures thus far. It is so great to see Ryan and to explore my new environment and I can't wait to share more details!

However, as I have a job interview in Sofia tomorrow, for now I will leave you with a belated Merry Christmas. We hope your holidays were happy ones!

48 Hours

In less than 48 hours I leave for Bulgaria.

Holy crap.

Needless to say the past few days have been a bit of a whirlwind.

Last Wednesday was spent packing... praising Jenn for somehow managing to fit absolutely everything into my car (you were right, Brent)... and, of course, freaking out. Sometimes all three at the same time. My last night in Orlando would not have been complete without also joining Laura, Jenn, Sherri, Thera and Michelle at the Melting Pot for dinner, conversation and wine.

Thursday I boarded the Auto Train. For those of you that are unfamiliar with this, the Auto Train is a beautiful invention brought to you by Amtrack. For a low, low price you can load both you and your vehicle onto the train and cut out all those tedious driving hours between Sanford, Florida and Lorton, Virginia. It features a tasty dinner, large, comfy seats and plenty of older folks to get your grandparents fix. Except this time it seemed there were an awful lot of college kids coming home for the holidays and because I am a card carrying member of the Lollipop Guild the staff evidently thought I should be sitting in the same car with all of them. I was instantly on alert since the last time I rode with fellow young people aboard the Auto Train I experienced a tremendous adventure worthy of a true pioneer.

Picture it: it was August 1997 and I was returning from my second internship with the Walt Disney World College Program. To my delight, I found myself sitting across from a young, attractive lawyer and after some conversation, wound up sharing dinner and more than a few drinks with him and a female medical student seated a few rows in front of us. After several hours, the doctor-to-be left us. Undaunted, the lawyer and I continued chatting until the wee hours. Recognizing, as they were closing down the lounge, that we were tired... and more than a little drunk... we stumbled back to our car. As I settled in to my seat I found myself pondering some of life's greater mysteries (If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a noise? How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? What is the square root of 3,786 and, more importantly, why does anyone care?) I also spent an inordinate amount of time staring dizzily at the ceiling. It was spinning. That's probably why I didn't immediately notice the young, attractive lawyer was tucking his blanket into the overhead bin, creating a curtain of sorts. Once this caught my attention, I was understandably a bit mystified. Why, I wondered, would my new friend be doing this? Why? Then he took off his shirt. This was a man who looked good without his shirt and I confess I could not tear my eyes away. Then he took off his pants. He was wearing a G-string. He. Was. Wearing. A. G-string! He proceeded to sit down... toss me a grin... and motion for me to join him in his little... um... Nest O' Amtrack Love.

This, you understand, was a most unexpected turn of events.

Now, I was undeniably intoxicated and, okay, definitely intrigued... but I was also amused in a horrified sort of way. I mean, come on... a G-string? This was the Auto Train, not the Thunder From Down Under. No one... and I do mean no one... is that hot. So I politely declined his very generous offer. I did this by mutely shaking my head in a frantic manner and clinging to my armrests. Suave, yes? Naturally, he was not happy with me and proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the trip.

But I digress.

Nothing quite so interesting happened this time around. Instead, during the 19 hours that it took for me to get home, I rented a video player and watched several movies I had missed in the theater, read a little and tried to sleep for a few hours stretched out across two seats. Not an easy feat... and I was exhausted when I arrived in Virginia. However, I was rewarded with an Amtrack mug as my car was the second to last to emerge from the bowels of the train and I feel satisfied with the experience. After all, last time I did not get a mug.

Anyway, in the days since I returned to the DC area, I have spent a lot of time hanging out with my family and friends, as well as tying up loose ends and packing my suitcases.

And in less than 48 hours I will be on a plane bound for Bulgaria... and Ryan... I anticipate neither mugs nor G-string clad lawyers... but regardless, I am headed for a terrific adventure.

Uh Oh Or Why I Love My Roommate Jenn

Yeah, so ordinarily I don't post twice in one day. But today I am so moved because I sold, threw away or donated a lot of stuff. I mean a lot . At least 20 bags of trash made their way down to the dumpster. Salvation Army came twice and picked up about 10 boxes and 10 bags each time. I accepted money for my knick knacks, CDs and furniture and gave away what was leftover.

This is all I own in the world... right here in this picture. You'd think this is not a lot, right? You'd be so wrong.

That is why I must now compose a horrifically bad, but totally inspired poem entitled:

Ode to Jenn

Jennifer, Jennifer
You're so great!
You've helped me pack
Without complaint!

You make me smile!
You make me cheer!
Please help me fit
All of this stuff into my Chevy Cavalier!

I know, I know. Not gonna happen. I will now take suggestions, please.

Celebration

Throughout the month of December, it snows every night in Celebration. Yes, that would be Celebration, Florida... and as you've probably ascertained all on your very own, it is not real snow. Soap bubble snow, though, can still be very fun - particularly when it is 70 degrees and breezy outside. As I expect I am trading it in for the real thing, I will sorely miss it. In fact, there are a lot of things I will miss about Celebration. The fabulous sushi restaurant. The lakes and the running paths. The post office that boasts pleasant employees and rarely has a line. Even the Farmer's Market (even though I've only been once and only recently learned it actually takes place every Sunday). From its annual Pie Festival to 4th of July festivities to the Taste of Celebration, this little town is truly unique... family friendly... and a heck of a lot of fun.

This past weekend Celebration's own Town Tavern hosted my going away party. It was a really great time and I enjoyed hanging out with all of you who truly have become my surrogate family here in Florida. I want to extend a very big THANK YOU to everyone who showed up to help me say my goodbyes.

Celebration is not the only thing I will miss by far.

However, I am very much looking forward to a Celebration of another kind. I depart for Bulgaria in 9 days... 9 days!!... and if a reunion with someone I love very much is not a cause for celebration, I don't know what is.

If I Could Save Time in a Bottle

Alot of my energy as I prepare to leave for Bulgaria has been expended on slightly less than fun things. Trying to find a job in a country in which I am not currently located. Paying off my car. Attempting to sell or give away all my worldly possessions. Completing graduate school. Flooding my kitchen.

However, even with all the craziness, I am constantly reminded that I have a truly amazing family. What's more, I've made a lot of incredible friends over the years. So now that the majority of the logistics are out of the way, a good deal of what I will find myself doing in the coming days is saying "see you later" to people who mean so much to me that I can't imagine my life without them. (This means they had darn well better stay in touch. And come visit. And send care packages. Haha! Just kidding. Except not really!)

I must also bid farewell for now to Orlando... a town that has provided a fabulous backdrop for some outstanding experiences. Last night Laura, Jenn, Sherri and I went to the Osborne Family Spectacle of Dancing Lights at the Disney MGM Studios, rode Tower of Terror - my favorite Disney ride, and indulged in appetizers and adult beverages at the Outer Rim Lounge in the Contemporary. And there's yet more in store! Thanks to everyone who will help make my remaining days in the States spectacular and unforgettable...

And Ryan, gear up babe! I can't wait to get there to start creating some new memories...

Why You Should Not Use Dishwashing Liquid in the Dishwasher by Meagan P.

It was Laura's idea.

Well, first she suggested Tide. But I wasn't sure that would work as well. In our defense, we were out of detergent... there really were an awful lot of dirty dishes... and, after all, "Palmolive® dishwashing liquids are formulated to be tough on grease yet soft on hands!" So although I think I knew deep down that the prudent idea would be to wait to run the dishwasher until we purchased the stuff formulated for just that purpose, I embraced Laura's suggestion with tremendous enthusiasm. As swift as I am to point out that my awesome and creative roommate provided the inspiration... it was I who gaily poured about half a tablespoon of neon-green dishwashing fluid into the dishwasher and turned it on.

Now that I think about it, I do recall hearing that this method has the potential to produce bubbles. Lots and lots and LOTS of bubbles. I have confess, then, I wasn't entirely surprised when I heard Laura gasp "Meagan!" and I rounded the corner to find we were just minutes away from being able to host a thoroughly exciting foam party right in our very own kitchen. In another day and age, I might have gone running for my bikini. Instead... I dashed for the towels.

Anyway, in the spirit of kindness and generosity, I want to share with you now some valuable lessons gleaned from this experience in case you totally ignore this post and inadvertently flood your kitchen with bubbles.

1. When your roommate is doubled-over, nearly wetting herself with laughter... you absolutely must stop laughing and snorting hysterically yourself. Otherwise the phrase, "Stop laughing! Help me! It's not funny! Stop laughing!" really has very little meaning.

2. Colanders and white vinegar are surprisingly useful for respectively scooping out bubbles and diminishing the foam in a swift and effective manner so your other roommate doesn't find out and yell at you for stupidly using dishwashing liquid in the first place. (Hi Jenn! We love you! Thanks for finding it funny!)

Um, yeah. That's it. I got nothing else out of the experience. Oh wait. Except this:

3. Go for the camera before the towels, colander and vinegar if you want to capture the moment on film. Otherwise, when you try to take a picture after the drama has occurred and the bubbles are winding down... it doesn't look nearly as impressive or wildly humorous when you try to post it on your blog later for posterity.

Into the Dragon's Lair

Today I did something I have never before dared.

Today I opted to be brave. To buck the system. To journey where many fear to go.

Today I woke up very early... and I went shopping.

There was a time when I loved shopping. I mean, really, really loved it. I embraced it with every fiber of my being. So much so that I would happily head out the door to buy, like, a pair of shoes... and wake up several hours later with armloads of stuff I had no recollection of purchasing. It was like I went into a fugue state or something and the other Meag... the impulsive, wicked Meag... took over, running amok at the mall.

I really don't know what happened, but somewhere along the line I went from loving shopping to positively loathing it. Trips to the mall for me have become more of mini-missions that I approach with dual senses of dread and impending doom. This is probably because I know that somewhere - just beneath the surface - seethes a Meagan that finds it virtually impossible to tell herself, "No! You do not need a $200 pair of boots! Or a rice cooker! Or the Complete Works of Mozart with 170 CDs."

So going to the store today was absolutely the last thing on my agenda until last night, after a tasty Thanksgiving feast, my friends pulled out the newspaper to explore the Black Friday sales. And that's when I was lost. It was not the $130 Digital Mini Camcorder that snagged me. Or the 3 frying pans for $20.

It was the luggage. 6-pieces for $60 at Target. They tantalized me... drawing me in like a fly to a porch light. Understand I do not currently have a good set of luggage... and these bags were so clean and new and pretty. What's more, they actually had functioning zippers. I was utterly seduced.

Still, I held out. When I went to bed last night, I fully planned on following through with my initial goal of waking up as late as possible, enjoying a cup of coffee and starting to wade through my last paper in my two and a half year pursuit of my MPA. But fate took over and I awoke, sans alarm, at 6:30 AM. "Huh", I thought and lay there for a few minutes trying fruitlessly to fall back asleep. When, after five minutes I was still staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, I came to the realization that this was clearly a sign. That luggage had to be mine. So I threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt and ran off to my local Target.

I expected mayhem. Women running down the aisles with shopping carts, body-slamming anyone who got in their way. Kids digging through toys, tossing aside undesired Barbies and Thomas the Trains like so many pieces of garbage. Men wrestling those who dared to take the last $100 6- megapixel digital camera.

Instead, I parked easily, acquired a cart with minimal effort and strolled leisurely to the back of the store where I found exactly what I sought - a bright-blue 6-piece Embark luggage set. No one grabbed the other side of the bags, engaging in an impromptu game of Tug-O-War. Nary a person bargained with me for the privilege of taking them home. Nor, I found when I got to the front of the store, did I even have to wait in line. Sure, Target was a bit busy for 6:45 AM on a Friday... but all in all, it was a painless and civil process. I was in and out in less than 10 minutes. I was so inspired by this, that I drove to Rack Room Shoes and purchased 3 pairs (for $60) and had a similar experience there. No insanity. No violence. No bloodshed. What I thought would be an all-morning adventure worthy of a Medal of Honor wound up taking less than an hour and being actually sort of... boring.

I must say I am a little disappointed. However, I was able to vicariously share in Tara, Garrett and Kelli's 4:45 AM quest for the $999 42" plasma TV and feel most uplifted by their courageous and lengthy battle towards success.

Onward, Black Friday Shoppers! Onward!

Happy Thanksgiving

In honor of Thanksgiving, I thought I would take the time to write about some of the many things I love... and for which I am most thankful....

• My awesome, amazing, fantastic family
• My incredible and enduring friendships
• My absolutely fabulous boyfriend Ryan
• Dogs, cats and other fuzzy creatures
• And also turtles (I have a soft spot for turtles)
• Happy kids
• Sunrises and sunsets
• Being in love
• Naps
• Curling up in front of a hot fire
• Red licorice, Jujubes and Sour Patch Kids
• Poker (I am surprisingly very good at it even though I am a rotten liar)
• The long stemmed red roses currently on my dresser
• Running outside on a chilly morning and feeling so alive
• Chinese food (eggrolls... yummmmm!) and Thai food (Pad Thai... yummmmm!) and Japanese food (sushi.... yummmmm!)
• Having a roof over my head, good food to eat and a job I like
• Music - all kinds!
• Road trips and singing along with the radio at the top of my lungs
• The ability to go where I want to go... and do what I want to do... provided it doesn't hurt anybody
• Spearmint flavored gum
• Volunteering
• Putting stuff together like desks and tables and stuff... (it's weird, I know)
• Cell phones, digital cameras and computers
• Books, candles and bubblebaths
• Funky purses and jewelry
• Bulgaria (Even though I haven't gotten there yet)
• Back rubs
• A good haircut
• Surprising someone I love
• The option to travel
• Brown socks, lint brushes and the "I Love the 80's" boardgame
• Red wine... and white wine too!
• Sexy tank tops, soft sweaters and comfy jeans
• Snow and sunshine at the same time
• Smiling people
• Laughing until my sides hurt
• Starry nights
• The health of my family, friends and self
• Playing in the rain
• The smell of fall leaves and pumpkins
• Dancing anywhere I feel like it
• Dolphins
• The beach and the mountains and the ocean and trees and lakes and the forest and pretty much anything to do with nature
• Except spiders (but I suppose even though they scare me, I am thankful for them too since they apparently keep our world from becoming overrun by flies and other insects... but why oh why do they need so many LEGS???)
• And since we're on the topic of spiders... Charlotte's Web... this includes the book AND the old movie AND the new movie that is coming out SOON!!
• Thumb wars... (Be prepared to LOSE, Ryan!)
• Birthdays, Official Holidays and Made-up Holidays that have really funny but intriguing titles (Today is "Flossing Day"... who knew?)
• Hugs and Kisses...lots, please!
• Weddings
• Turkey cooked in a pillowcase (the best kind), and "Holiday Potatoes" and "Woodchip Salad" and Stuffing and Cranberry Sauce and Pecan Pie
• And much, MUCH more!!! I feel so incredibly lucky for all of the gifts in my life... I can't even begin to name them all!

Have a great Thanksgiving!!

Reasons Why I am Freaking Out

I leave for Bulgaria in 33 days... I'm not sure I can wait that long.

I cannot find my bedroom floor.

I miss Ryan. A lot.

Soon I'm going to miss everyone else but Ryan. A lot.

I do not currently own snow boots and I'm not really convinced I can find cute ones in Florida.

Laura hates all my clothes. (Okay, so I'm not really freaking out over this one, but it does make me paranoid that I have bad taste and everyone looks at me going "How did her roommates let her leave the house looking like that? Gawd!")

I have one more super yucky paper to write for Grad School.

I still haven't found a job in Bulgaria, although let's hear it for those few promising leads.

I have 17 people that I know with birthdays in November (including both myself and Ryan)... and 12 more in December and I'm sadly short on birthday present funding.

I haven't cleaned my bathroom or my bedroom in 5 weeks. That is just gross.

In the next month I must: go to my 9th wedding in just over a year, play in the Disney parks one last time, pack, make my outstanding Eggplant Parmesan for my roommates per their request, graduate, thoroughly clean both my car and my room (this will take a very long time), sell my bedroom furniture, my textbooks, my CDs, my dining room table and my car, give away a bunch of stuff to Goodwill, pack some more, give Power of Attorney to my mom, double-check to ensure Verizon and various and sundry other services really will be turned off the day I leave, and have I mentioned the packing?

I leave for Bulgaria in 33 days... and I have no idea how I'm going to accomplish everything I need to.

But I'm really, really, really freakin' excited...

** Edited to add: Laura read this blog and felt she sounded like a bitch. She wants me to let you all know she is really very nice and that she doesn't hate all of my clothes.... She only hates some of them...

Confidence

I'm a confident girl. I mean, I look in the mirror and like what I see. I am comfortable noticing other beautiful women and will exuberantly point them out to my boyfriend. I graciously accept compliments and very much enjoy giving them in return. Plus, I'm really pretty fun. (I would hang out with me, at least.)

I'm convinced, though, that this self-esteem is due primarily to the fact that over the years I have accumulated more than my fair share of embarrassing moments and have internally built up my confidence level as compensation to avoid permanently curling up in a ball on the floor. I embarrass myself a lot.

Case in point - this past weekend I went to my adorable cousin Jess' wedding and had a fabulous time. Congrats Jessica and Nick! However, I decided to wear a super-cute strapless black dress that won out over all the other super-cute dresses mostly because it was the first one I tried on and it only cost me $25 at Charlotte Russe. It was a flattering little thing and since I hate shopping, I didn't really examine it too closely. It serves me right, then, that I learned this weekend in addition to being cute, it also had a very special zipper that would periodically decide to just unzip itself all the way down my back. Yay! After the zipper split for the 10th time, opening my dress to my waist as I entered the reception, I clutched my dress around my chest in a frantic effort to prevent it from puddling around my feet. Luckily I turned to my left and found a girl who had been a stranger barely an hour before, and said - and this is a direct quote- "Hi Natalie! Can you zip me up, please?" Thankfully my stepmom had brought a sewing kit and took care of the situation so I could dance freely without fretting that I might, in the middle of Aretha Franklin's "Respect", turn the reception into something that ordinarily necessitates $1 bills and a pole.

This was not my first wardrobe incident. When I was 16 I went to a water park. For the occasion, I donned a new pale pink bikini in which I looked quite smokin', if I do say so myself. I went down a few water slides. I frolicked with my friends. I played like a Baywatch Babe in the wave pool. And then I noticed that I was getting quite a bit of attention from both men and women. I made a guy walk into a table. I am not kidding. He walked into a table. Cool, right? I strutted my way through that park thinking, "Oh yeah. You want me. You know it. Uh huh." Then a friend ran up to me and wrapped a towel around me, saying "Meagan. Oh God. Please don't cry!" Turns out my brand new pretty pink bathing suit was entirely see-through. It literally looked as though I was walking around Cameron Run celebrating the joys of public nudity. Swell.

These scenarios are in good company. Over the years I have:

• Fallen down the stairs at my senior Social Work ceremony in front of 200+ classmates and their families
• Almost set my hair on fire with the candle I was holding at the same ceremony because I was staring at a cute boy in my class on whom I had a crush (to my eternal chagrin, this did NOT go unnoticed...)
• Gone wind surfing with my friend Kristin when I was 26 and blatantly flirted with our incredibly hot instructor who ultimately turned out to be 16 years old and still in high school
• Upon watching a preview for Showgirls (yes, yes... the one with Elizabeth Berkley) in college, got excited and tremendously inspired... and proceeded to show off my considerable dancing skills with... the closet door (you will not be surprised to learn that this did involve consumption of some alcohol)
• Lost my snorkel while on a cruise and spent some time searching for it with the help of my friends and three very attractive divers... only to have my dear, sweet pal Christy point out quite loudly and enthusiastically that the snorkel was, in fact, resting gently on top of my boobs
• Introduced a guy with whom I went on a few dates to my friends whereupon he got extremely intoxicated, barked ferociously at the waitress and suggested a provocative group activity to Steve and Garrett, two of my guy friends. Neat, huh?
• Thrown up on a classmate's bare foot in the high school locker room (In my defense, I had the flu)
• Gotten excited over something someone said and wound up inadvertently flipping an entire plate of Chicken Parmesan in my lap on New Years Eve
• Fallen up the stairs at the Boardwalk Resort at Walt Disney World and... later that day... fallen actually into the lap of a young boy on one of the Disney buses (What can I say? Some of those bus drivers are worse than me!)
• Went with some friends to the Food and Wine Festival on my 29th birthday and, after some drinks, decided spontaneously to get a piggy-back ride from my friend Sherri by launching myself at her and slamming us both into the ground

I walk into doors and trip over the sidewalk. When I think I'm really ultra-hot, I'm actually trailing toilet paper behind me or something. I sometimes snort when I laugh. Yep! The list goes on. And on. And on some more.

But I have confidence. And it's a good thing, too, because the next time my skirt splits up the back or I run headlong into a wall (probably tomorrow), I'm gonna need it.

Desperately Seeking a Roommate

So as part of my move to Bulgaria, I find myself actively engaged in the process of finding someone to take my place in my lease. It's a beautiful apartment. The area is safe, picturesque and centrally located. My roommates are fun and considerate. You'd think it'd be easy, right?

It is not.

Tonight, however, it has become vastly entertaining.

But, wait. I am getting ahead of myself. First - some history. To aid in this ongoing process I have enlisted in the assistance of friends, coworkers, roommates.com and the ever-popular craigslist. For those of you who live under your beds or in a hole somewhere (haha, Marla, I am just kidding!), craigslist is a bulletin-board type website that features something for everybody. You want a Guitar Shaped Elvis Clock? You got it. How about a ride from Orlando to Birmingham? You're in luck! And if you are Naughty and Need to be Spanked, there is a 47 year old man in Central Florida looking for you.

Incidentally, you can also find apartments or roommates on craigslist. Of course there is a certain amount of, shall we say... sketchiness... involved with this process, but luckily I am a savvy girl who promptly deletes those messages offering me Viagra to increase my penis size or a really great deal on my next home loan. So when I received my first response to my ad from a "Humanitarian Officer" living in Australia seeking to move to the US, I was a little suspicious... but my hackles weren't entirely up. Just in case she was authentic, I sent a friendly reply informing her I had already found a roommate. But now there seems to be yet another Australian Good Samaritan seeking to relocate to Orlando and after some Google-ing, it is apparent the scam artists of the world have infiltrated virtually every aspect of our existence.

I know you are just dying to know what the e-mail said, so out of the kindness of my heart, I will share it with you!

"Hello, How are you doing? Guess fine I presume.... I saw your advert and I am interested in your room apartment. I am from Australia and I will be having seminars coming up soon in USA. Right now I am working for a Non Government Organization on a programme on children with orphans, heart related problems trafficking in children and women.My next programme/seminars will be in the USA and I will be in need of a room to stay for this seminars and I need to secure a room before my arrival to the US. I can't wait to arrive to the US because I have greatly appreciated the complexity and the nature of the United States. More so I will be staying for the period of 12-13 months, Please do get back to me with the room description, move in rent fees for the first month, Utilities and deposit if integrated and please look and tell me every conceivable circumstances of the place to avoid anything unaware. Please do email me undeviating at my personal email address. Look forward to read from you. Have a magnificent and prolific day. Kindest Regards."

Clearly this man is hoping that not only will I respond, but after exchanging a few e-mails, he will somehow persuade me to send him large amounts of money from my bank account. (Which is hilarious in itself because he really should have picked someone else if he's hoping to be financially successful in life. Right now I could send him about $12).

But I digress. Normally I delete these messages and promptly forget about them. Not this time, though! I have crafted the following response that may not only aid my little "Australian Humanitarian" in his endeavors, but will hopefully also snag us a new roommate, making my move to Bulgaria much less stressful!

"Hi! Thank you so much for your swift reply to my ad! The apartment is still available and you sound like the perfect roommate! You should know a few things prior to moving forward with any financial transactions.

1. My roommates like bats. A lot. In fact, they are both zookeepers and regularly bring home critters to care for them when they are sick. Don't worry, though! They do keep the bats in their rooms most of the time, only letting them out to get their exercise for an hour or two in the evenings. The bat sh*t is something of a problem... but the carpet is tan so it kind of blends in. Plus, if you spray some air freshener every morning, the smell is usually not too bad.

2. One of my roommates belongs to a Polka Club and she has members from the local Polka Pigs over until the wee hours. There is lots of singing and dancing! After experimenting a bit, I have discovered earplugs do not work very well, so I've learned to just join in. May I humbly suggest you do the same? After all, my motto is if you can't beat 'em, join 'em and now I have so many great moves I can break out at the clubs! Plenty of fun for everybody!

3. The other roommate has a foot fetish. Do you mind if she clips your toenails for you? She only needs to do this periodically - maybe twice a week. She'll also paint them a pretty color of your choosing if you want... but since I think you are a guy, you might not be interested in this part. I don't think she'll mind if you just let her tickle your toes with a feather instead.

4. My room (which you will be inhabiting since I am moving out) has a ghost. It's an old man ghost and he doesn't jump out at you or go "Boo!" or anything, but he does like to rattle his chains around 2 or 3 AM and rock the bed back and forth. If you just say very nicely (but firmly) "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt! Stop it! I need to go to bed now!" (John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt is his name)... he usually he stops. He also likes it if you sing "My Humps" by the Blackeyed Peas.

5. My roommates do not make much money and I am moving overseas to herd goats, so we will need you to transfer $310,789 USD into an account that we will send to you upon acceptance of these terms. Once we receive this money, a representative of our apartment complex will contact you and return your money in full, plus a 20% bonus. If you want, I could maybe persuade my roommates to throw in a bat or two for your room, as well.

Thank you for your interest and we can't wait to welcome you into your new home!"

P.S. - To any potential roommates, the stuff about the bats, the Polka Pigs, the ghost, the$310,789 and the foot fetish (I think) are all entirely made up. The apartment is great. Really!

The Twelve Step Program

My name is Meag and... I have Road Rage.

A few months ago my roommate Jenn and I planned to make the trip out to Tampa for the Def Leppard/Journey concert. I happily jingled my keys and opened the car door for her only to look over to see her putting her stuff in her car. She tossed me a look and said firmly, "No, Meagan. NO! You are not driving. You won't be able to handle the traffic and I definitely won't be able to handle you." Hmf.

On another occasion, my friend Mindi refused to let me drive to Ormond Beach for the Paul deBruyn 15K. I wanted to know why. She replied, "Meag, you are seriously one of the nicest people I have ever met. Really. It's hard to think of anyone nicer. Until you get behind the wheel. Then you are a raging bitch. It's like Jekyll and Hyde."

They are not wrong. Although I think of it as a necessary evil, I tend to curse and use my horn more frequently than is probably truly warranted. Personally, I think I am a superb driver, but evidently unless you grew up in a big city like DC where assertive driving is a bonus, I have come to realize I will... (inadvertently, I promise!)... scare you. The exception, of course, is my friend Kendra who grew up in Smalltown USA, but for some reason really likes the way I drive. She says it's because I get her where she's going quickly and (I must add) safely. I prefer to think it's because it's always an entertaining experience, driving with me.

I am not really proud of this "condition", though, and am always coming up with new ways to be more Zen-like behind the wheel. In fact, I once kept a sticky on my dashboard with the date and time of the last time I used my horn to remind me to exercise patience. It was exactly four days, six hours and 38 minutes before I found the "need" to blast away at the man in the the Ford Focus who apparently deemed it necessary to stop in the middle of the road while he figured out where he wanted to go. Nevertheless, this was a record of which I am pleased since it's often hard to make it through one day without finding fault with the shockingly awful drivers of Central Florida.

Contrary to popular opinion, however, I actually enjoy driving. And since my remaining time in the States is limited, I don't want to scare you away! Being a passenger with me behind the wheel is not all bad! No!

And to prove it, I will now provide you with the Top 5 Reasons why driving with me can actually be FUN!

5. I sing along with the radio. Badly, yes... but sometimes I make up my own words which can be really funny. Plus - you like country? Me too! Rap? Hey, one of my favorite songs is "Air Force Ones"! Classic Rock? I don't mean to brag, but you should be aware I know all the words to "The Bohemian Rhapsody" and feel absolutely compelled to add in the requisite enthusiastic head banging a la "Wayne's World"! It's true!

4. As I have already revealed, I am a packrat. This means there are often a lot of really cool things in my car for you to explore, like... ummmm... magazines and water bottles... and... my tent! At one time I even had a bumper in my car! (I feel I should clarify, it was actually my bumper. This probably does not do a lot to support my "I am a good driver!" theory... but that is a story for another time.) So you see? Entertainment for everybody!

3. I tend to get lost. A lot. So if you like adventure and discovering new locales that were not necessarily on our itinerary like Clermont or Winter Garden or, I don't know... Maine... I am definitely your girl.

2. Have I mentioned the singing?

1. Come to think of it, I am not certain there are 5 reasons why you should drive with me. Drat.

So... I, uh, hear the bus system in Bulgaria is pretty good!

My Dirty Little Secret

Yesterday, I found myself irrationally excited. Not just, as you might imagine, because it's finally starting to hit me that I am leaving in less than two months. Nope. I was also psyched for another reason.

MTV was airing a Laguna Beach marathon.

Yes, okay? Yes! I watch Laguna Freakin' Beach! Not obsessively, mind you. I mean, I'm not really a huge television fan to begin with; I only seek out Lost and The Amazing Race regularly and that's about it. Plus I always forget when it's on, so the only time I really see it is if I somehow catch an episode or two or five while flipping channels on a lazy day. (Although I did buy my roommate a very special Christmas gift last year so if I want to relive the drama of Kristen, LC and Stephen, I can. The Laguna Beach Season 1 DVD - the gift that keeps on giving.) Anyway, I could rationalize this all day, but I still have to admit this show completely sucks me in. I don't know why. It could be because it inspires fond memories of the days when Brenda, Brandon and friends made 90210 the most famous zipcode ever. Maybe I enjoy the mindless entertainment. Perhaps it's because the show is just so bad it is actually awesome. Whatever the reason, I am Laguna Beach's bitch.

Of course it is somewhat embarrassing to be spellbound by the lives of these incredibly obnoxious spoiled brats living in California. Nonetheless, I find myself utterly absorbed in all the shenanigans and expressing outrage as "the popular girls" shun Tessa or Alex dumps Rocky because he is a big fat jerk. I do not like him at all. Cameron is also a playa', but he is hot, so I find him a little less objectionable. They sure didn't have boys that looked like him when I was in high school. See what I mean? I'm telling you; it is really quite sad.

I am aware I am 31 years old, thank you. But I know many others my age who also share this guilty pleasure. I am not alone! So here's to you, Laguna Beach. You make me ever so grateful that I am no longer in high school while simultaneously wishing MTV aired in Bulgaria.

How Far Will You Go To Make A Difference

I didn't want him to go.

Until recently, I had never been romantically involved with a guy longer than six weeks. While I thoroughly and enthusiastically engaged in dating, flirting and "hanging out", I had been unsuccessful in meeting someone who held my interest beyond these fun, but superficial activities. I preferred to keep things casual whilst secretly battling concerns that my perennial single-hood would eventually result in my becoming a “Cat Lady.” (Oh the horror!)

Then, in July of 2005, I met Ryan. We were each other's last date at Pre-Dating (a 6-minute version of the 8-minute phenomenon) and bonded over Illinois basketball and tales of living overseas. On our third date he told me earnestly, "I don't know if you can tell, but I really like you a lot." This was after I had belted out a most enthusiastic version of Pat Benetar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" at his friends' karaoke party. Those who know me well can attest that while I have a lot of passion… a recording career is definitely not in my future unless it involves getting the neighborhood dogs involved with some backup singing. Luckily my lack of musical talent was not a deal breaker. It was also after I discovered he drove… the hot… the sporty…the ghetto fabulous… 1990 Dodge Caravan. However I had already figured out that I really liked him a lot too. If I wasn’t yet pairing my first name with his last, I was, at the very least, dancing giddily around and going “Eeeeeeee!” Er, not out loud or in front of him or anything… just in my head… and… um… maybe in my bedroom when I was pretty sure there was no one else in the apartment. And actually, I'm not that impressed by flashy sports cars, so the van was pretty darn sexy, too.

Despite the promising start, it didn’t stop me from encouraging him to follow in my footsteps by joining the Peace Corps. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life… he liked travel… he was intrigued by international development… it seemed a good fit. After only dating for three months, I figured I likely wouldn’t be in the picture when he actually did join. Sure he was amazing and a heck of a lot of fun and really cute and smart and cool and we definitely had chemistry… but would it really last? Could it be I wasn’t destined for cats after all?

As it turns out not only did our relationship continue to grow, but I went and fell in love for the first time in my life. Then things got scary. First he had his interview. Then his nomination. And in May, six months after I said “Hey Ryan! Have you ever thought about joining the Peace Corps?,” he received his invitation for Business Development in Bulgaria. I’m not ashamed to admit I begged him not to go. I told him I would break up with him if he did; I absolutely wouldn’t do long distance. Was I being reasonable? Probably not, but all I could think was I had waited my entire life to find someone like him… and what was more I knew he felt the same way too. To throw it away seemed desperately unfair.

After much intense discussion and plenty of tears… clearly Ryan did decide to go to Bulgaria. Just as plainly, my vow to avoid the dreaded long distance relationship has been unsubstantiated. We both knew when we said our tearful goodbyes, it was really “see you later” as neither of us could imagine not having the other in our life. He left on August 4 and surprisingly, the very thing that I felt would be disastrous for our relationship has actually proved to be a tremendous turning point for us. I never would have imagined it would turn out this way… but here we are, stronger than ever.

Today, after two and a half months of training, Ryan swore in as an official volunteer and has moved to Stara Zagora, his town of placement. My initial opinions notwithstanding, I am so proud of him for stepping outside his comfort zone and trying to make a difference. He has an energy and wisdom that is rare and I feel so lucky to have him in my life. At the risk of waxing romantic (like I haven't already, right?), I love him so much and I am so excited to see what Bulgaria has in store for us!

I Owe It All to Charlie Sheen

With all of the excitement and planning invested in my move to Bulgaria I have kind of overlooked the fact that I am going to graduate in about a month with my Masters in Public Administration and a Graduate Certificate in Nonprofit Management. Luckily I am not so absorbed that I am forgetting to do homework or write papers or, like, go to class and stuff.

When I first went to college back in 1992, however, this was sort of a problem for me. For some reason I just couldn't grasp the concept that you probably needed to show up and take actual exams in order to pass. Instead I took a strong academic interest in a campus organization and tended to hang out there quite a bit in order to broaden my educational experience. (Okay, so the president of said organization was unreasonably hot and I took great pleasure in doing lots of giggling and occasionally throwing tootsie rolls at him. C'mon. I was 17. I had not yet learned that flirting involved more than flicking my hair over my shoulder, pouting a little and dressing in low cut tops and short skirts). Somehow I made it through my freshman year by the skin of my proverbial teeth. But sophomore year was my downfall when one day, while skipping class, I was presented with the opportunity to become a paid extra in a classic film (Major League II) whereupon I decided that I... yes I... was going to be an actress. Not just any old actress. A soap opera actress.

Heh.

Needless to say I dropped out of school to pursue my burgeoning acting career. I facilitated this process... by waiting tables at TGI Friday. How my parents made it through this time with their sanity intact is both a mystery and a miracle. The acting career, of course, never materialized and after two years of wearing red and white stripes and suspenders covered in "flair", I made the fortuitous decision to go back to school. Three years later I graduated Summa Cum Laude with a Bachelor of Arts in Social Work.

It took me some time to decide that I wanted an advanced degree, plus a little more navigational fine-tuning as to what, exactly, I wanted to do with my life. (And, truth be told, I'm still not sure). But once I made up my mind to do it, I embraced the idea whole-heartedly. I knew what I wanted to study and where I would go to do it. Although it has been tough at times, particularly when I was working two jobs and was literally at some place of employment or school 6 - 7 days out of the week, I can't believe it's almost over. Tonight I finished my final exam for my Capstone course and am left with one paper to tweak a bit and another to proofread... and that's it. I will be a graduate of the UCF MPA program. Wow.

During our orientation to UCF my friend (and fellow impending graduate) Garrett joked that the students would soon unite and, in "Old School" fashion, chant the mantra "Meag the Keg! Meag the Keg!" as I frolicked in the Reflecting Pond outside Millican Hall. I have thus far refrained from this shocking behavior as I am above such frivolities. After all, they simply do not befit a graduate student. No... No, I am waiting until after I graduate for that...

The Packrat Chronicles

I have a lot of crap. I never really thought I was abnormal in this respect until some dear and thoughtful friends helped me move several years ago. I will never forget their faces as they stopped in my doorway, uttering various exclamations of horror and disbelief at the sheer mountains of stuff I have. I think a few of them may have even tried to run away. (To be fair, I am also a rotten packer, and felt it was satisfactory practice to hand over lamps, rolls of toilet paper, pillows, knick-knacks and towels sans box because the task of packing up everything simply proved to be too daunting. Plus you just have to unpack it all anyway, right? Why not skip that step?)

Anyway, it was my first realization that perhaps not everyone keeps a box full of the "good" fortunes they get from the cookies after Chinese dinners or old batteries in event they ever get around to recycling them. I guess I never really listened to my Dad's adage "When in doubt, throw it out". Or, rather, I did... I just honestly believed I needed it all! I mean, if there was a Packrats Anonymous, I definitely would be forced to join because I am a dedicated and passionate fan of clutter. More specifically:

Mom - the "Art of Belly Dancing", Silly Putty, decks of cards and miniature slinkies you put in our Christmas stockings every year just for fun? I still have most of them in my "junk drawer".

Kristin - that e-mail you sent almost seven years ago detailing our adventures at Busch Gardens, Williamsburg? It's in a binder in my bureau along with about 300 or so e-mails from various and sundry people over the years.

Ryan - the card shaped like a mug of beer you gave me last Valentines Day? You know... the one where you drew a little heart with an arrow on it and told me affectionately you like me better than... you guessed it... beer? Yep. Got that too. (No, you will never live this down... but as much as I tease, I do sleep with the panda bear every night... and rest assured he (and the card) will be joining me in BG.)

Dad - the letter you wrote me when I left for the Peace Corps talking about your experiences in Vietnam? Still gives me chills every time I read it.

While they do take up a lot of space, I must confess all of this stuff (and its ilk) make sense to me as they have strong sentimental value. I am positively mystified, though, by some of the junk that I have accumulated over the years.

Why oh why, for example, do I have 30-some beanie babies? I jumped enthusiastically into this craze back in 1998. I blame Tara and Geneva for this. They were thoroughly convinced they would ultimately be worth money and now I am the lucky owner of a bag full of multi-colored animals that are worth approximately $10 on E-bay.

Also, was it ever cool to collect pens? Because I have about 200 of them in a drawer. And it's not even like any of them write in a really fun color. Nope. Just tons of blue and black... and maybe a few red thrown in for variety... pens.

I have decks of cards and junk jewelry and purses and seashells and candles and lots and lots of books. I have over 300 CDs, Christmas cards I never sent from last year and a basket full of Mardi Gras beads (even though I have never been). I have VHS tapes and bottles of shampoo I tried but didn't like and old calendars and junk mail I was too lazy to rip up. I have Mickey Mouse themed stuff from my first WDW College Program back when I thought Mickey Mouse themed stuff was really awesome. I have shot glasses and 3 or 4 different nail clippers and a weird octopus looking thing that has wires sticking out of it that feels really good when you rub them on your head. (I got it at the mall at one of those kiosks if you want one too. If not, ignore them when they talk to you because once this thing touches your head, it's magic I tell you, magic!). I even have an old drivers' license where I am sporting 80's bangs.

It's amazing to me that I never sorted through any of this before... I just carted it from one place to the next. Now I will be going through all of it and either selling it to my friends for really low prices, donating it to Goodwill or (gasp!) throwing it away. Of course I will be keeping the pictures and journals and cards and such because memories like that really are priceless. Only those, my computer and my clothes will make the trip with me up to DC on December 14. And, at that point, I will have one week to sort through what remains and decide what I will stuff into exactly two suitcases and a carry-on to make the trip to Bulgaria.

I always thought it would be much harder than this to eliminate the clutter from my life, but instead I find it strangely liberating. And for those of you who are planning on coming to the Sale at my place next Saturday, I don't anticipate any tears of sorrow as I bid farewell to my possessions. However, if for some strange reason you find me clinging sadly to a black plastic trashbag, just tell me kindly (but firmly)... "Meag, put down the Beanie Babies and step away slowly!"

It's about time I did anyway.

Pounding the Pavement

I will not be running the Disney Marathon this year. This really hit home today as I was trotting my way through the last mile of the Race for the Taste 10K

This January I will not be rising at the crack of dawn to stand huddled in the cold… (yes, Florida does get cold)... waiting breathlessly for the start of the race and wondering who, within the echelon of Disney, decided that the Port-a-Lets should be so very far from Corral F, because I have to pee again!

This January I will not be coming up with new and creative uses for “the F-word” and joyously throwing myself upon the volunteers around Mile 19 who have the lucky job of handing out little Dixie cups of beer.

This January I will not experience the miracles of Powerade, Body Glide, Bio Freeze, Tylenol 8-hour, Green Apple Power Gel and immersing my entire body, post race, into an ice cold swimming pool in hopes of fending off muscle soreness. I also will not, despite my best efforts, lose six of my ten toenails making pedicures and cute sandals a most entertaining experience for the next seven months.

No, this January I will not find myself running towards Spaceship Earth, hearing the crowd cheer and the music play and my heart pounding in my ears, realizing this is it... I have done it... I am finishing another 26.2 miles.

This January I will not unsuccessfully fight off tears as I cross the finish line. I will not offer a sweaty, heartfelt hug to the volunteer who places a medal over my head. I will not, as I stumble towards myriad friends and family, feel the most powerful exhilaration I have ever felt in my life or the realization that I am so lucky to have found this hobby and to be able to participate in this tremendously moving and heady experience.

Six years ago if you had asked me, "Hey Meag! Wanna run a marathon?" I would have had to spend a few minutes laughing hysterically. Once I regained the ability to breathe, I would have then cheerfully whacked you on the arm - you're so funny! - asking, “Do you smoke crack?” But after watching a few friends complete the Disney marathon in 2002, I decided that I wanted to do one too. I didn't really think about what goes into marathon running; it just sounded pretty cool. So I spent many months gaily informing people I was going to do the marathon. Yep! A marathon! I really was!

I didn't get nervous until the night before the marathon when it occurred to me that actually training might... just might... have been a good idea. Despite this shocking display of insensibility, in January 2003, after 7 hours of walking, trudging, limping... and wondering why in the hell I was doing this… I finished my first marathon. As hard as it was, it got me thinking of what I might be able to do if I put forth some effort into a training program. I had walked a marathon… could I now run one? There had been points where I genuinely contemplated sitting down on the side of the road and begging the Sag Wagon folks to please, for the love of God, pick me up and take me home already. Did I truly want to do this again?

As it turns out, I did.

Four years later, I have run (yes, run!) 5 marathons, 4 half-marathons, and over 25 smaller races. Hard to believe it, but the girl who came in last at every single freakin’ Field Day in elementary school, actually pays money to get up early, pin a race number to her shirt and put one foot in front of the other for up to 6 hours at a time. Sure, as a middle-of-the-packer, I will never qualify for Boston, but I love every second of it. (Well, almost every second of it. The toenail thing sort of sucks.)

But this January, I will not be running the Disney marathon.

Instead, I will be in Bulgaria. I bought my plane ticket today and am happy to report I will be departing from DC to Sofia on December 21. I’m incredibly excited and feel this will undoubtedly be one of the biggest and best adventures of my life. This January, I will be pounding a different sort of pavement as I job hunt in Bulgaria and attempt to create a new life for myself halfway around the world.

With my 2007 Disney marathon plans thus diverted, I now find myself contemplating running the first marathon – the original marathon next year. Anyone else up for Athens, 2007?

The Big Move

I am moving to Bulgaria in two months.

This freaks me out just a little bit because I do not actually, as of yet, have a job in Bulgaria. Or, for that matter, a place to live. So I guess really what I mean is I am going to Bulgaria with the hopes that I will find employment that allows me to pay rent and my bills and eat... and, in turn, the powers that be (i.e. the Bulgarian government) will let me remain there for longer than 90 days. I would also like to not live in a cardboard box on a corner somewhere, but aside from that I'm fairly easygoing with lodging. Oh wait. I would also prefer to skip the "Turkish Toilets," at least in my apartment. I am no Paris Hilton, but for the privacy of my own bathroom, I prefer the option to lounge if I so choose. Ahem.

A large part of me is completely overwhelmed with the amount of stuff I must accomplish between now and December... and numerous people have informed me that I am insane for selling all of my stuff and moving halfway across the world without any really promising prospects. (If I weren't me, I would probably call me crazy too). Nonetheless, I must admit most of what I feel is a loopy, giddy, holy CR*P! excitement.

So why Bulgaria, then? Well, I confess it's primarily because my boyfriend moved there to spend two years as a Volunteer with the Peace Corps. But I am not really "that girl" who follows her boyfriend to the ends of the earth. Or, I should say, I am not just that girl. In December I will have my Masters Degree in Public Administration and I would like to ultimately work in International Development. Although I spent five months in the Peace Corps myself... that experience ended far sooner than expected following a knee injury and I find myself now lacking (and longing for) overseas experience. So I'm doing this for me too.

It should be interesting to see how this pans out. Right now I expect to participate in a course that will provide me with CELTA training to Teach English as a Foreign Language in Sofia, the capital. Incidentally, this is also where I will probably look for a job. Much as I would like to find a place to live in Ryan's town of placement, this is unlikely. Besides, the three hour bus ride between his town and mine should provide endless entertainment and allow me to see more the the country that I'm hoping to call my home. From what I can tell it is truly a beautiful place with amazing and gracious people. (Ryan also tells me they have yummy tomatoes. Good stuff all around.)

The better question, then, is why not Bulgaria?