25 days...19 hours... and 25 minutes

Not that I am counting, or anything.

So. Um. It's been awhile since I last posted!

Things have been a bit busy 'round these here parts. As a result, this post is gonna suck just a bit because I have to get back to the tedious (yet surprisingly fulfilling!) business of figuring out who sits where at the reception. Which - have I mentioned? - is in exactly 25 days, 19 hours, and 22 minutes.

Let's see... where was I when last we met?

Oh yes. Moving. It went well. We really like our new neighborhood. Unfortunately, our apartment is significantly smaller than our old one so our dining area doubles as a storage area, while our guest room is overrun with myriad wedding-related boxes and crafts. Martha Stewart would weep.

Also, the kitchen is the size of a Barbie townhouse, so I find myself turning on the Food Network and fantasizing over Giada De Laurentiis the clean and spacious granite countertops and ginormous and well-stocked cabinets and refrigerators. Since renovation is not compatible with renting, I suppose after the wedding we'll have to rent some storage space somewhere, but for now our cats are thoroughly enjoying the playground that has become our apartment.

We also welcomed our niece Saylor to the world in October. She is just beautiful and may have a future in sumo wrestling.



We are hopeful.

After a wonderful visit home to DC over the holidays, we are now fully immersed in tackling last minute wedding details. Predictably, we're very excited. And not stressed at all! No! After all, we only have a million and two things left to do... and, oh, 25 days... 18 hours... and 42 minutes to do them all in...

P.S. This isn't a political blog, but just wanted to say how out of my head excited I am about this inauguration. We pretty much worship the Obamas and I am totally not kidding when I tell you we are dropping their wedding invitation in the mail tomorrow.

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...

Engaged!

Yesterday, after two and a half years of dating, Ryan proposed to me. (I don't think anyone will be shocked that I said "yes".)

Because I knew the ring was coming, to throw me off the scent Ryan had told me he had something planned every weekend in December. Last weekend involved a picnic on the beach, so when he advised me we were taking a road trip on Saturday and of the necessary attire, I told myself that it was entirely possible that THIS weekend may not be THE weekend and whatever we were doing would be fun regardless.

So yesterday morning I gamely donned my bathing suit and sunglasses and practically skipped out to the van. It was an ADVENTURE! One that might involve a PROPOSAL! And... and... a RING! But maybe NOT! And that's OKAY!!

My first clue came when we dropped off the Dodge Caravan at Budget Car Rental in favor of a Chevy Cobalt. To me this meant we were going far enough that it merited renting a car (to save money on gas)... but not so far that we'd need to stay overnight (I had not been told to pack a toothbrush).

A few short hours later, we found ourselves in Key Largo. Ryan's first choice for lunch (The Fish House) wound up not opening until 11:30 AM, so we dined across the street at Rib Daddy's Kountry Kitchen, a tasty little hole in the wall. Here I was allowed to play 20 Questions. After inquiring whether or not we had much further to drive (no... so probably still in Key Largo)... if we were getting in the water (yes... hence the bathing suit)... if the day involved heights (no... so not parasailing)... or animals (yes)... I started to get excited.

First - some history. When I was little, I loved dolphins. Nay. This thing I had for dolphins... it went far beyond love. I wanted to raise a little baby dolphin in my bathtub, to frolic with dolphins in the wild... y'all, I wanted to BE a dolphin. I would happily splash about in my grandparents' pool making what I envisioned to be dolphin noises, periodically flinging myself out of the water in my very best imitation of a dazzling leap.

Luckily I outgrew this behavior, but my interest in Flipper did not end with childhood. When I was 18 I rushed right out and got a tattoo of two dolphins on my ankle and even debated Marine Biology as a career until that fateful day I learned it involved THE DREADED HATEFUL MATH and therefore managed to fall securely out of the realm of "Stuff Meagan Enjoys".

So when Ryan confirmed that whatever we were doing involved both the water and animals, using my tremendous powers of deductive reasoning, I asked "Am I swimming with dolphins??" The answer (yes) brought on a surprising bout of tears, and I rushed us right out of the restaurant and over to Dolphins Plus, a research and education facility in Key Largo.

Because I am an eager little dolphin freak, we were there a half hour early, so we sat on a bench and chatted and smooched as I battled the urge to run inside, take everyone hostage with my camera screeching "TAKE ME TO THE DOLPHINS NOW BITCHES!!... UH, PLEASE!!" Anyway, I successfully refrained from any illegal behavior, and once the remainder of the 8 participants had arrived, we made our way down to a little tiki hut at the back of the facility. The 12 dolphins (and 2 sea lions) at Dolphins Plus are housed in a blocked off canal adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean, thereby providing them with a natural seawater habitat. We then spent about 45 minutes learning about the different dolphins, as well as some basic rules for when we were actually in the water with them.

They then split us up into groups of two, and Ryan and I headed off with our trainer Megan, and our two dolphins Bella and Nica. Over the course of the next half hour, Ryan and I got to sing with the dolphins, whilst spinning in circles (I use the phrase "sing" loosely for myself, Bella and Nica), rub their backs and bellies, shake hands/fins and go "shopping" (whereby Megan sent Bella and Nica into the depths to bring us back whatever treasures they might find. Ryan got a nice chunk of rock. I... yes I... got a piece of sea grass.)

Megan then advised that she wanted to test our "driving skills". She had me hold onto a kick board, as the dolphins came up underneath me, and pushed me around in a big circle with their beaks. My kick board, however, was a flimsy piece of crap, so after Megan and her fellow trainer finished making fun of me, they provided Ryan with a much sturdier board.

As the dolphins pushed him around and he turned to make his way back towards me, he held the board up. As it turns out, it was not a kick board at all. Instead it was a sign that read:

"Meag,

Will you marry me?

Love,
Ryan"

I had expected when Ryan did ask me to marry him, that I would cry. But the crying I pictured in my head was the sort where you dab delicately at your eyes, while laughing a little and smiling prettily. Oh, y'all. That is totally not what happened. I burst into great braying sobs and as he came up next to me to hold me, I managed to gasp out "Yes! Yes!" (To be fair, Ryan, Megan, the photographer and the other trainer all got a little weepy too, although it was hardly the big snot-fest for them that it was for me. We've got pictures, guys. It must be said I do NOT look pretty when I cry.)

When planning the proposal, Ryan had asked the trainers when it would take place and they had told him near the end because once the girl sees the sign, she forgets all about the dolphins. And they were absolutely right because after some quick dolphin (and Ryan) kisses... my ass was out of the water and on dry land where Ryan got down on one knee and presented me with the ring. (Which I wouldn't let him actually put on me until we were safely away from the water. I had visions of me accidentally dropping the ring into the water, and desperately going "Fetch Bella! Fetch Nica!" and receiving instead a dead trout or something.)

Yesterday afternoon we came back to the apartment, made some phone calls, showered and changed, then headed out for an awesome dinner at Seasons 52 in downtown Ft. Lauderdale.

While the tears have stopped... the beaming hasn't... and I can't imagine a more perfect engagement story for us. Now the next goal (besides starting to actively plan the wedding tentatively estimated to take place some time between January and April of 2009) is to get used to saying "my fiance" instead of "my boyfriend"!

Meagan the Dog Whisperer

Now that the CureTour is done, Ryan and I have successfully relinquished our roles as "roadies" and "perpetual travelers". (For now, at least). Frankly, although we had a blast, we are glad to be done and finally settled in our apartment in Coconut Creek with our pretty red couch, new mattress, approximately 42,000 boxes... and our dog Tyson.

While we're on the subject... Tyson is truly a delight. He's affectionate, cuddly, frisky and a boatload of fun.

However!

He has come to the conclusion that Daddy (Ryan) is the Leader of the Pack and he (Tyson) comes next. Mommy (me) is so obviously at the very bottom of the totem pole, which means that Tyson feels entitled to boss me around by attempting to jump on my head and gnawing ferociously on various exposed body parts. Also by "marking" all over the apartment (complete with no longer quite so Brand. New. Carpet.) This included a lovely festival of feces in the bedroom. Fun, FUN!

Actually, this is totally my fault. I am a big old softie which should come as no surprise to anyone. Thanks to me, Tyson took on the role of Master, as I caved to his every whim, so I have been practicing saying firmly, "No! I am the Alpha Dog, Tyson! NO! I AM THE ALPHA DOG, DAMMIT!!!" This, you will not be surprised to learn, has not been entirely effective.

The larger issue, though is Tyson pretty much hates (HAAAATES!) any person that is not Grandma, Grandpa, Daddy or Mommy. He also hates: big dogs, small dogs, medium sized dogs, cats, the television, fireworks, the washing machine, the garbage disposal, the dishwasher, the dryer, the garbage truck, the hair dryer, and pretty much anything else that otherwise moves or makes noise. We've been practicing desensitization activities (which for Daddy entails watching lots and lots of college basketball) and now we no longer feel we have to throw all of our electrical appliances in the dumpster and move to Outer Mongolia).

The hating (HAAAATING!) of the people and fellow members of the Animal Kingdom is taking some time, though.

Clearly we had to take some action. So, our first step in ensuring we will have a friendly, non-threatening household pet, was to have him neutered. Now, I know that this may cause many men (and my mom) to cringe but Bob Barker is totally right, y'all. If you're not going to breed your pet, spaying or neutering them is one of the kindest things you can do for them. It reduces the likelihood of numerous health problems (including cancer), makes the pet more affectionate and friendly and also eliminates the possibility that your pet will unwittingly increase the animal population.

Tyson, it hardly needs to be said, did not like the vet. In fact, all the barking, snarling and lunging led the vet to inform us "You have an aggressive dog here. He's going to require a lot of work". Faced with that news, we did what any normal parents do when they're told their son or daughter is failing Algebra or Home Economics. We cried. Not, like, at the vet or anything. But later. But when we picked him up post-surgery, he was noticeably more relaxed. Granted, he's not quite at the point of leaping joyously into the laps of strangers, licking their faces and whining with delight. But at least, he's not all "The Hound of the Baskervilles", causing people to go "Aieeeeee!" and run in the opposite direction either.

The other thing we've done is found an awesome trainer who spent a few hours with Ryan and me yesterday morning teaching us (and Tyson) the Heel and Sit commands. To you this may not sound so special. But for two people who no longer have to shove their arms back in their sockets after taking him for a walk, this is nothing short of miraculous. He walks at our sides, people! This is, like, Christmas and the 4th of July and my birthday and Arbor Day all rolled into one.

He definitely has a long way to go. But now we actually have hope that we may be able to have house guests some time in the near future. Speaking of house guests, did you see my mention of our pretty red couch? Then you probably saw that we also have 395,641 boxes, too. Once we get rid of those, we will also have a guest room. Come visit! Um. Not any time in the next month or so because Tyson might try to eat you. But maybe after Christmas?

Further Proof Ryan Just Needs to Propose Already (Haha! Just kidding!)

Today we were driving through Huntsville, Alabama. And I looked over, and was all "Baby! Look! It's a Wedding Supply Store! I bet it has pretty white dresses! And lovely, floaty veils! And oooh! I bet it has tuxes! Ummm... Huh. Er, nope!.... it has power tools! And... um... safety helmets!"

Turns out "welding" looks an awful lot like "wedding" when you're driving by at 45 miles per hour and are fairly drooling over an engagement ring you've been told is coming, but has not yet made an actual appearance. Anyhow, I'm guessing Sexton Welding Supply, Inc has a flourishing business in its own right, despite lacking the latest in bridal finery.

But enough about that... (for now anyway). Everything with the tour is going remarkably well. We're more than 2/3 of the way through and I honestly didn't think it would take this long for me to actually post a blog entry, but we've been scheduling and rescheduling interviews, running Tailgate parties, encouraging donations, explaining our goals and missions, checking in and out of hotels and doing a heck of a lot of driving. We've definitely had a moment or two when we've looked at each other and gone "why did we want to do this again??" (Dear Reporter who called us at 3:30 AM thinking the event started at 4:30 AM instead of 9:30 AM, I am still bitter and I do not like you very much. Plus, I would like to buy you an appointment calendar. Hugs! Love, Meag)

These rare moments aside, this has been such an incredible experience. We've met so many families around the nation that display tremendous strength, compassion, good humor and courage, beyond what I could personally imagine under similar circumstances. Every day brings new experiences that are rewarding and fun. Best of all, I get to do this with my best friend in the entire world. (*cue sappy music*) And I apparently won some sort of relationship lottery since he not only makes me laugh and still makes my heart beat fast... but he irons my clothes for me too! How great is that?!

With just two and a half weeks left to go, we're excited to spend the next few weeks winding our way up the East Coast to New York City, but I'm sure we'll also feel more than a bit sad to bring the tour to an end. I try to look on the positive side of things, though and confess I will be happy to sleep under sheets that aren't imprinted with the "Marriott" or "Holiday Inn Express" logos. Also, I look forward to cooking dinner in our own home, taking our dog for a walk, getting the chance to exercise and being able to recall what city we were in three days ago.

And, y'all, maybe in the next few months I'll also be seeking out the Ft. Lauderdale "Wedding" Supply store. (But the one with actual dresses instead of blow torches...) Stay tuned!

Day One - Anaheim

Yesterday was hot. Disgustingly, stickily, oppressively hot. (Is stickily even a word?)

It was also the kick-off for the CureTour as well as the Disneyland Half Marathon. And heat notwithstanding, it was a terrific beginning for our 63-day adventure.

I am always moved by road races. There is just something about throngs of people running for a purpose - whether it's for a particular cause... or to fulfill a personal dream.... or just to get out there and move. Whether I am a participant or a spectator, I frequently find myself covered in goosebumps and fighting off tears... it's that powerful to me.

So this past weekend inspired even greater emotion as we had the chance to meet some of the families and children affected by this disease and watch all of those people running to help find a cure cross that finish line.

The race was a bit different for Tim. Starting at 3:30 AM, he ran a full 13.1 miles before meeting up with 13,000 other Disneyland Half Marathon runners to finish the rest of his first marathon on the tour. For him (and for us), this is just the beginning.

If you are interested, you can find more clips on YouTube featuring the tour here: http://www.youtube.com/curetour.

More in the next few days as we work our way through San Luis Obispo, Los Gatos and Sacramento!