I Think We're Going to Need a Bigger Truck

I move a lot.

No, really. I mean, like, a LOT a lot.

To be precise, I have moved approximately 17 times over the course of my lifetime and a whopping 8 times since the year 2000. My father claims that he's erased a hole in my page on his address book, and I'm quite certain he's not joking. Just as an FYI for those of you who haven't figured it out yet, I'm definitely a girl whose address you want to write in pencil. 

Some people like a new car every few years... perhaps an upgraded computer. I like those things too, but I really love me some empty boxes from Publix and the musty, dank smell of a moving truck. Luckily Ryan's also got a pretty good case of itchy feet, so at least I know I'm not alone in having to change the address on my checkbook every twelve months or so.

It should surprise no one at this point that we're about to move, yet again. This time, though, we both have hopes that we'll actually stay put for a few years. Funny how getting older does that... you stop thinking about where you might want to go next and start putting down some roots. (Also, you can't get hammered, go to bed at 3 AM and be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by 8 AM, but that's another (very sad) story altogether.) 

Mind you, we're under no illusion that we'll stay in Florida forever. Once we start having kids (sooner rather than later), we'll want to be closer to family. Besides, neither of us are enamored with South Florida. (Why does Mother Nature give us the dubious gift of 90-degree weather in October? Why?) Nevertheless, it's a good move and, really, not very far down the road. We're just transplanting ourselves a bit further south to make both of our commutes easier and, in Ryan's case, significantly shorter. (Oh, did I not mention I finally found a job in August? Well I did! And I love it!)

Anyway, with all this moving, you'd think I'd be good at it, right? I mean, I should practically be able to do this in my sleep by now, yes?

Nope!

We have so much crap it's ridiculous... I'm surrounded by half-packed boxes... the movers will arrive next Friday and I don't even want to think about what needs to be done to the kitchen and our bedroom to get them in move out condition.... aannnddd yet clearly there's no time like the present to start a new blog entry!

Procrastination, thy name is Meagan.

While we're on the topic, I have no idea how we wound up with this much stuff. Actually, that's not entirely true. I am a pack rat... always have been... but I went all minimalist when I moved to Bulgaria two years ago. When we returned we had generous family and friends come out of the proverbial woodwork to foist off kindly donate their belongings to us and - just like magic! - we have a ton of really awesome shit again. I don't mean to sound ungrateful because I genuinely am excited by this. I like balls of foil for the cats to play with and authentic carved bowls from Samoa and seashells that Ryan gives me at the beach and birthday cards from 1984. Basically, I like mementos and knick knacks and homes that feel lived in. But when you pair this with the fact that Ryan is compelled to keep every single receipt he has ever received... and I am convinced that - why yes! of course someday I will really need the 250 pages worth of emails from 1998 - 2000 that I wrote/received and subsequently printed so I would feel like I had my friends and family with me when I joined the Peace Corps, then you have the makings of a really f*cking good episode of Discovery Channel's Clean Sweep.

Or else the kind of nightmare that causes Two Guys and a Truck employees to spontaneously quit and run screaming out the front door. I guess we'll find out which on Friday!

Here I would usually post a picture of the shambles that is currently our living room, but I can't find my camera, so you're just going to have to trust me. We are so going to have to buy these unsuspecting (but courageous!) movers a lot of beer or possibly a vacation to Italy to express our sincere apologies and undying gratitude.

Ah, the Magic of the Recent Keyword Activity

Since I don't update that often, it is quite an easy process to periodically log into my Statcounter and get a general idea of who is checking out my blog... and, more importantly, how they got there. (If I had more than, oh.. say 5 or 6 visitors a day, I would imagine this could be quite an involved process. But as it is? Not so much!)

For instance, there is this one picture people from all over the world are somehow discovering through Google Images, which when clicked upon takes them directly to my blog. 

It's this one, actually:

I am... somewhat mystified. I have no earthly idea how this picture wound up on Google Images... nor do I know what search terms people use to find it... but I can only guess that most people who do come across "Where in the World is Meagan" by way of this photo are deeply disappointed that this is not, in fact, a blog that consists of some hot girl on girl action. Sorry about that porn seekers!

Of course people find it other ways too. Through Ryan's blog or perhaps because they Googled Baba Vanga or O Solo Mio.

But today, y'all! Today!

Today someone found me via the following phrase: "my underwear off peace corps".

Haaaa! Now, people, how awesome is that? You can't tell me that is not awesome.

So now it occurs to me that I may be able to drive my Statcounter up maybe 2 or 3 people a day just by adding fun phrases here and there!  

What do you think? Shall we try it?

Britney Spears Hot Sexy Cucumber

Fabulous Ghetto Knitting Contest

Barbie Porn Blankie Bingo

Nudist Sunblock Back-hair 

...

...I really need a job.

Amazing

Oh, hello there.

Why, yes, I have fallen off the face of the earth again. Are you surprised?

Mostly this is because there's not a heck of a lot to report right now, particularly as I once again find myself in the midst of job hunting. Now I'm not sure if you've heard but our economy is in the sh*tter right now. Therefore... searching for viable employment? Not the most fun thing ever.

But I remain uplifted thanks, in large part, to awesome things like my incredible, hot, very understanding and unfailingly supportive fiance... our brand new Nintendo Wii Fit ... Yuengling beer which I have somehow (shockingly!) just discovered... our adorable and lovable kitties who are just tickled by my recent perpetual presence in the household...

...and videos like the one below. It was made by Matt Harding and Melissa Nixon (with the help of a lot of people from around the world) and it is quite possibly the best thing I have seen on the Internet in... if not forever, at least a very, very long time. 

You must watch it now. And then go out somewhere and dance.

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo

Wanna See Some Bad Pictures Of Me?

So I was just looking at Ryan's blog. He never ever posts unless I banish him to his computer chair under threat of forever withholding my awesome cooking, "forgetting" to shave my legs for the next three months and never ever again giving late night back scratches.

So after some extensive persuasion... he posted last week!

And I reflected with fondness over this entry.

Until I noticed that he has posted a picture from our engagement in his Flickr account.

Some backround, people. A few years ago a girl I knew from work was talking about how she loves to go to the beach because apparently the sand and the salt and the sun really agree with her and her hair gets all wavy and silky and sexy and her skin gets all warm and tan and glowy and - no lie! - she looks exactly like a mermaid! She really does!

Part of me had this bright little smile plastered on my face because who says that? If I ever go on and on about how "When I wake up in the morning? And my hair is all tousled? And I have morning breath? And pillow wrinkles on my face?... Well, I look just like an angel! A sexy one!! Cross my heart!".... please... feel free to laugh - hysterically - in my face.

But part of me was jealous. Because when I go to the beach?

I am not bringing the mermaid, y'all. I love the ocean, and I love the sun and I love the sand but it is an unrequited bitter relationship because boy do they not love me back. Picture curly, crazy hair, sunburned (yet pasty!) skin and... sometimes, if I've spent a lot of time jumping waves... bloodshot eyes. Hot!

So when Ryan proposed while frolicking amongst the dolphins it was magical and perfect and I can't imagine anyone having a better engagement story.

But let me be clear. I was not rocking the pretty or even remotely the cute. I mean, I don't think anyone would look at the pictures and go "Aieeeeeee!" and fling their laptop across the room or anything... but I'm not exactly going to be nominated for America's Next Top Model, either.

With all of this being taken into consideration, I had no intention of displaying most of the pictures for anyone who knows me to see, like EVER...

Then I read the comments that two complete strangers left for this one:

One person said "goooooooooood moment :)" Another said "Muy emocionante! un momento original que jamas olvidaran seguramente..." (According to AltaVista Babel Fish Translation Service, this one means "Very exciting! a little while original that jamas forgot surely... ") Somehow I think that translation might be just a little bit off... but still. You get the gist.

So I really looked at the picture and saw that it is, in fact, beautiful because of all of that joy and emotion on my face. And I started getting choked up all over again.

Then I got all happy and warm and fuzzy and started looking through all the pictures. And then I got super excited and inspired and thought... well, shouldn't everyone get to share in my viewing pleasure?

Well, shouldn't you?

Don't I look just like a mermaid?

A gorgeous, sexy, blotchy faced, double-chinned, pasty but VERY HAPPY mermaid.

Update

Yes! I am still alive! But obviously very busy!

Or perhaps lazy. One or the other.

So as I am wont to do, I will now update you in stages.

Meagan on Wedding Planning...

You might have guessed this has figured quite heavily into the schedule lately. We've set a date of February 14, 2009 and in the two and a half months since we got engaged, have managed to nail down all of our major vendors. My sister and my mom and my dad and my grandparents... and... well, pretty much everyone but me thinks this is just HI-larious since clearly I have been dying to plan my wedding since I was 5.

I argue I am merely proactive.

In reality, my travel schedule with work is out of control August through November, so I'm trying to minimize my stress during that time frame by getting the big stuff out of the way now. Plus. They are all wrong. I have been wanting to plan my wedding since I was in the womb. WOMB, people! Get it straight!

Meagan on New Year's Resolutions...

In preparation for our big day, Ryan and I have started a weight loss and exercise plan. We have been eating healthy and running at least four times a week since January 1st.

He has lost 23 pounds. As for me?

I have lost 7.

This? Is not fair.

I know, I know. Women lose weight differently and it's smart to lose it slowly and I don't have that much to lose and all that jazz. But despite the whole unfairness of Ryan losing so much more damn weight than I am even though - hello! - we are doing the same exact flippin' thing (!!!)... we feel so much healthier and are really pleased with the changes we're seeing.

Let me further explain. A little over a year ago, I had lost 21 pounds and was in the best shape of my life. Then Bulgaria happened. I suppose I'm not being totally fair as I can't really blame it on an entire country. It could have had something to do with the fact that one of our favorite activities during our time in Stara Zagora was to meet up with friends and indulge in massive quantities of very cheap beer, pasta with cream sauce and cheese, french fries with cheese and - oh yeah - bread-like substances filled with yet more cheese. Friends, just a PSA for ya' here. Wretched things happen when carbohydrates (and cheese!) prevail and you don't have to worry about drinking and driving due to a distinct lack of a motor vehicle. Drinking two or three or eight pints of beer and walking (staggering) is perfectly okay! And so it goes until one day you wake up and you're like, um... where did the skinny Meagan go and who stuck these 20 extra pounds back on her ass?!

The CureTour, of course, didn't help. I don't know if you have noticed there are McDonalds in just about every square inch of America, but we sure did. When you're short on time and the french fries calleth, it's darn tough to ignore.

But now we're all about the chicken and fish and whole wheat pasta and fruits and broccoli and maybe you won't believe me, but we honestly love this way of eating. So the pounds can take their time coming off, I guess, since I really feel this is a lifestyle change more than a diet. Even though I confess the competitive side of me wants to add several tablespoons of butter to Ryan's meal whenever I cook so I can catch up a little already! Haaaaa! I kid.

Meagan on Pet-Ownership...

Do you remember when we had a dog? And lo he was named Tyson. And it was good.

And then it rapidly became not so good.

Tyson, it turns out, did not like the whole living-in-an-apartment, having-to-deal-with-other-living-creatures, only-getting-to-run-about-four-miles-a-day, not-getting-to-pee-and-poop-on-the-carpet-or-tear-up-things thing.

We came to the conclusion that as a border collie - and... um... an antisocial a shy one at that, he simply needed more space and exercise than we could provide him. So we moved him home to live with Ryan's parents. This was a very tough decision, particularly since we knew he'd have to travel on a plane by himself and this involved the whole "other living creatures" part of the equation.

We were right to be concerned because when he arrived in Illinois, Mark (Ryan's stepdad) was encouraged to come and soothe his dog whereupon he found a sign on the side of his crate that solemnly read: "Tyson is very upset."

We did not put it there, so I can only imagine what he was doing to inspire the airport staff in this manner. (Will you think us bad parents if I tell you we think it's sort of funny, actually?)

All's well that ends well, though. Tyson is much happier living in Illinois and is experiencing the joys of snow for the first time in his young life. Also possums. Evidently one recently decided to visit him and well... um... play possum. Tyson felt this was a very special gift just for him and the possum is now no longer with us. His spirit, anyway. His body is most definitely still with us since Tyson refuses to release his new toy to his dad, preferring to shake it and growl every time Mark gets close.

At least he's not bored.

As for Ryan and I, we have decided that cats suit our current lifestyle very well and so have adopted two adorable felines we have dubbed George Michael and Maeby. As Arrested Development fans, we feel they have been aptly named. George Michael is our sweet cuddlebug... and adores napping on our laps and looking out the window. Maeby is a feisty little thing who was most likely a dog in a previous life.

Maeby has become very attached to me and rather enjoys waking me up at 6 AM to lay on my chest, purr and chew contentedly on my hair. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I like this. Ryan is getting into the whole thing too and actually made a donation at the grocery store in all of our names the other day.

So! It appears we are now crazy cat people!

Meagan on blogging...

Thus endeth the updates for now... but I am going to try to write more often now that we're all settled and stuff...

I know... promises, promises... but I really mean it this time!

That is, if I can fit it in in between all the wedding planning...