power tools

Tonight's discovery: Projects involving power tools work out best when done while wearing a tiara. (Reading the directions probably helps, too.)

I now have curtains hanging in my apartment! YAY!

300

Finding 300 reasons that my doing the Spartan Challenge, which starts in just over a week, is absolutely insane would not be particularly difficult. Much less difficult than actually completing it. This thing terrifies me, specifically the benchmark workout. Last year's video. Feel free to pause that at 34 seconds in where it lists the workout. This, my friend, makes the I Am Crossfit workout look like a short stroll to the gelato shop.

BUT I am not focusing on this. I am not focusing on the fact that I still can't do a pullup, that I hate box jumps or that just watching those floor wipers makes we want to cry. Instead I'm focusing on the fact that while it will kick my ass it can only make me better. Stronger. And hey, look, a kettlebell portion! I can do that...hell, if I can keep running and rucking and tackling during the 79th minute of a rugby match, I can do all of this. Because I Am CrossFit.

Baby Calves

Okay, I promised Mrs. Juicebox a blog post, and a blog post she will get. A promise of this nature, especially one made while at a Dooce book signing, is not something one can default on.


These are baby calves, just a few weeks old, born on my family's farm. They frolic. They nurse. They huddle down in the grass to hide and when the flies are bothering them they flap their ears in the most floppy and adorable way possible. Baby calves do not indulge in self pity. Unlike me. Over the past weeks I've been indulging in more than my fair. Long, dramatic, ridiculous story short: I got dumped. The guy I was crazy about decided he didn't want to play anymore and knocked over the lego castle he'd built up under me.
Broken hearts happen. They happen to lots of people all the time. It sucks, but the world keeps moving, and it certainly doesn't make me special. But I did find that letting myself be not okay for a while helped and now I am better. Not 100% better, but still better. At my parent's this weekend I remembered that I am strong enough to be on my own. For a few weeks I forgot that. And while the rejection still stings and I still miss him, I know I don't need him. For now, that's pretty good.