Hello! Welcome to the soft launch of Kirida Dot Com: purveyor of nonsense since ever since. I updated the layout over the weekend and am still working on it. A family member of mine, who shall remain anonymous, thinks that it’s too safe and is suggesting that I jazz it up much like her favorite blog: Danish Royal Watchers, which makes sense. Is there really any other kind of watcher for the Danish aristocracy? Still, there’s more to come. It’s like I’m in my first apartment again but now I have the opportunity to make it pretty and not listen to my boyfriend at the time who insisted on an INFLATABLE COUCH. Yes. The only thing that separated my fat butt from the ground was a made in china contraption filled with whatever air my poor lung capacity mustered. It was like a sad plastic cloud which I perched upon, hoping for a better life in which I would have real furniture of my own and a meal plan that consisted of more than frozen pizza and TV dinners.
Other news: I registered for the annual BlogHer conference in San Diego this August. I am beyond ecstatic. I have been wanting to attend for years but every time registration comes around, I decide against it and then when the conference commences, I hide from the internet so my seething envy doesn’t consume me. Blogging is a integral part of what keeps me sane, what prevents me from jumping off my balcony because I am overwhelmed with kids and chaos and Mike is tired of hearing my jokes and it feels so good to hit the “publish” button. So on the last day of the steep holiday discount, I said this is the year to do it.
There’s this commercial for a local high-end car dealership and it features Warren Miller in various states of What Rich People Do–walking on private docks, sketching, wine drinking–and waxing philosophic. There’s one commercial where he says, “If you don’t do it this year, you’ll be one year older when you do.” I like that line. But that’s the only one. I don’t connect with his other commercials where his sayings are like, “It’s not your aptitude but your attitude which will determine your altitude,” and, “Wherever you go, someone will say, ‘You should have been here yesterday.'” I can stomach these flowery commercials because I just change the channel, but if I ever heard him in person, I’d be all, way to bring down this festive sweater party, WARREN. Can I just eat this freaking guacamole dip without your reciting from Chicken Soup For the Soul? Is that too much to ask? Yeah, walk away! You always do that! I can slam doors, too, YOU KNOW!
Apropos of nothing I just said, I threw $20 into Jennie’s Biggest Blogging Loser pot which after 12 weeks, the winner gets 70% of a $1,900 pot. I’ve been in serious need of a dietary revamp and this is an easier way to do it and way more effective than my normal morning routine of hissing into the mirror, “PLEASE LET THIS ZIP UP!” Plus, I love the idea of an un-lottery which will determine my winnings based on actual work I invest, much different from my Megamillions strategy of buying tickets at the 7-11 closest to my house because I figure, if I win, I’m going to win here. That’s like science, right?!
After I sent my money in, I worked out at the gym for an hour, moving on the elliptical machine and watching this awesome documentary on Joan Rivers. I admit that I wanted to give up somewhere around the 40-minute-mark but then I looked up and saw the gym TV above me airing The Strongest Man competition. So there I was, complaining to myself how this was feeling interminable to move on this fancy machine and here was this guy from Latvia pulling a truck and an American guy my age doing a 295-pound deadlift.
I finished. I stretched. I went to the women’s locker room and snapped a photo of my weight on the scale to send into the Biggest Blogging Loser competition. The number that appeared was the same one I had when I first arrived in Seattle ten years ago. How full circle it is to see that number appear again, though I’m in much different place now. I’m older. I have more responsibilities. And now I have the money to motivate me, if not the time.