Perfect

So.

Besides swooning, what has Ann been up to over the last month?

Home Opener with the bestie:

Rainy day for a baseball game

Chicago aka Vegas repeat:

Blues playoff games:

The zoo:

Leasburg for Ali’s birthday:

Birthday girl!!

One of my absolutely new favorite pictures
The group

Stupidly happy
What I came home to

Oh yeah, and spread out through all of that was the trip to CollegeTown, meeting GCB’s family….parents, sister/bro-in-law/niece, AND grandparents, JD’s birthday celebration, out of town interweb friends being in town, baseball games, my friend Noelle moving back to STL, and realizing just how quickly I am falling have fallen for the boyfriend.

On deck there is:

  • A cousin competing in high jump at the state track meet….as a freshman
  • My freshman year of college roommate’s wedding
  • Ragnar
  • Taking the boyfriend to Jeff City to meet the family
  • Kansas City for the Cards/Royals series
  • Numerous other baseball games
  • Sunday night dinners
  • Alison’s daughter’s birthday
  • Spending every single day being blown away by how absolutely fucking lucky I am

Perfection.

Panic Prone

I am fuh-REAK-ing the fuck out.

Ragnar is five weeks from today. Five weeks. Thirty-five days. I….holy shit.

I pulled up my training schedule today to adjust for the last week of being sick and out of town, switched over to the May calendar, and got a whopping dose of HOLYFUCKINGSHITI’MRUNNINGEIGHTEENMILESINFIVEWEEKS.

Holy fucking shit, I’m running 18 miles in five weeks.

I’m not ready.

Getting sick two weeks after the half marathon has meant that my workout regiment since the half has been, well, more a passing interest than a regiment. This was not my intention at all.

Logically I KNOW that I will be fine. I know that I am in good enough shape to get through.

But I don’t want to be just good enough. I want to have splits that I can be proud of. I want to make our team faster. I want to get through this race and be sore in the best way possible.

I want to absolutely crush my training for the next month.

When I looked at my just barely filled out May running schedule and realized I was supposed to run 10 miles in a few days, I had another freak out moment.

I’m meeting GCB’s parents on Sunday. There is Sunday Night Dinner on Sunday. There is not time for a 10 mile run. Maybe four, but not ten.

So, let’s sum up.

I am freaking out about the biggest race of my life thus far, even though logically I know I’ll be ok, but I know I have to kick ass this month.

I am freaking out about the meeting the parents of the perfect boyfriend because I have not “met the parents” in a DECADE. Even then, the high school boyfriend was a friend first, so I technically already knew his parents. Though I suppose there was the one guy with whom my first date was a trip to the Fox Theater WITH his parents, but I don’t count that so much. I am told, “he likes you, they’ll like you.”

But as we are seeing, LOGIC IS NOT FUCKING PREVAILING WITH ME TODAY.

I need a nap.

This post was brought to you by a severe lack of sleep, a minor instance of lack of self-confidence, and probably not enough (possibly too much) caffeine.

Fever

On Friday I went down to CollegeTown to hang out with my friend and her husband. We have had this tradition where we go out the Saturday before Easter. We’ve done this every single year (with the exception of one) for the past eight years.

This year we decided to push our tradition back as Easter was the weekend before my half marathon, and I figured I’d “be on a detox week.”
Fun fact: That was day two of my week long bender with Steph. Fun fact 2: It was also the day I met GCB. Timing, it is weird.
Anyway, we pushed our tradition back to this past weekend. We had every intention of taking the town by storm, dressing up, and dancing our asses off. Then we went out to dinner.
And Ann came home and registered a 100.1 degree fever. Fucking great.
I should have realized it after I woke up Saturday morning thinking that I had just broken a fever, but mistakenly thinking there was no reason for it.
So let’s count. Friday night. Saturday night. Three different bouts of a fever breaking yesterday during the day. And at least two last night.
When you have a fever and are totally incapable of regulating your own body temperature, it pretty well blows.
At one point I was so cold I think I was clinging to GCB like a spider monkey. At another, I could have sworn that if he touched me I would have exploded into a bajillion droplets of sweat. Apparently I was radiating heat at one point.
I’m trying to convince myself that I do not have another one today. Mostly because I’m going to the hockey game tonight. There is nothing that will keep me from this game.
Priorities, my friends.
I guess a good thing about being sick is calling out of work and spending the entire first half of the day in bed.
Going to work tomorrow’s going to suck.

I Don’t Wanna Come Back Down From This Cloud

Here has been my M.O. over the last few weeks.

1. Open mouth.

2. Vomit sunshine and happiness.

3. Repeat a nauseatingly high number of times every single day.

It feels like I am walking through a dream, like there’s no possible way that this can all be real. And yet it is.

There are things that show me this is real. Really real. All of it. There are the text messages that make me smile to the point where my coworker has begun calling me out on them. There are the memories of certain events that give me such a monstrous swoop in my stomach that I stutter step walking down the hall at work (yes, this actually happened this morning).

There’s being curled up in his arms, having the words “I’m crazy about you” whispered in my ear. *swoon*

Then there’s being asked by one of my close friends, “What, are you going to marry this guy?” and having my response be “Um, I don’t know,” which miiiiight have nearly made that friend fall out of their chair since it wasn’t an emphatic “Fuck you” or “Hell to the no.”

There’s the hoping beyond hope that this feeling never goes away.

I recognize that there are bound to be rough times, but this feeling right here makes it so that I’m not even worried about it. If those hard times come around, they come around, and we’ll deal with them then.

But for now? It’s….well, it’s just fucking fantastic.

Oh Baby, Baby

Bullet points!!

  • My sister is having a BOY. Nephew Watch 2012!!! Gah, SO FREAKING EXCITED!!!!!!!
  • I lifted for the first time today since nearly a week before the half. My legs feel great. My arms? Yeeeaaaahhhh, ouch.
  • It is time for me to refocus on how I eat. Again. The last two weeks have been ridiculous with what I’ve actually consumed, so yeah. Getting back to being good. These carrots and hummus are really fantastic.
  • I’m getting really excited for Ragnar. My last few runs have been REALLY awesome. Tomorrow GCB is coming running with me, which will be interesting. Pretty sure he’ll be able to hang, though.
  • Today I actually took measurements for the first time since early February. The reason I started doing so was to see just how I would change during my training, but as I’ve been balls to the wall training for quite a few months now, it seems as though I am at a decent plateau, despite the increase in the half inch or so around my midsection (which I attribute entirely to hormones at this point). I am more than comfortable in my skin. I feel like I’m at an incredible point physically, and it makes me proud of everything I’ve accomplished over the last year.
  • As I was telling mi madre earlier today, I really don’t think life has ever been any better than it is at this moment.
Life is incredible.

I Know I Should Be Home

I was in Chicago this past weekend. There will be pictures to show you all once I get them on my computer, but for now I’ve got to tell you all something that rattled me.

It rattled me because I never thought I’d say it.

For the first time ever, I was excited to get back to St Louis rather than wishing I could stay in Chicago.

Um, what?

I feel like all I’ve been saying lately is “What the fuck?”

Semi-relatedly, last night was GCB’s first appearance at Sunday Night Dinners.

My Universe Will Never be the Same

I’ve become that obnoxiously happy, ridiculously optimistic, swoony swoon face girlfriends that used to drive me up the fucking wall.

I would always think “there’s no WAY she can be THAT happy.”

Well, as I’ve learned/been reminded/been beaten over the head with, it IS possible to be that fucking happy.

I know, again, who the fuck AM I?

I swear my snark is still there, and I was caught as much off guard with this as you people.

Seriously, that fucker came out of nowhere.

 

So many things have just fallen right into place.

I know I keep saying this, but things are just so motherfucking awesome lately, I can hardly believe it’s all real.

Hey Hey, You You, I Could be Your Girlfriend

Fun fact. During Mile Twelve of the half marathon, Steph and I were belting out the Avril Lavigne song that was playing on the side of the road. The other runners were not thrilled with us.

So. Proper forewarning. This is going to be easily the cheesiest, gushiest, girliest, most ridiculous post I have written in possibly my entire life. I mean, there’s going to be a TON of sappiness in this. A TON. I give you this warning so you can go ahead and stop right now if you’d like, if you don’t want to get the gooshy stuff.

Question. I’ve asked this of a few people, but I think a general putting out there of it will be helpful.

This new title of “girlfriend” I’m wearing….does it make my butt look big(ger than it already is)?

Yeah, so Goalie Cop? Now can be referred to as Goalie Cop Boyfriend.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

I realized this morning that there are so many different sets of my ladies (who are grouped in pairs, strangely enough) to tell about this, yet all of you read here (even, I’m 98% sure, Alison (hi Alison!!)), so here are details/answers/etc.

Ok, so you know the basic story. Met boy, have been on dates with boy, have been swooning about boy, etc. But the details are so much better.

I met GCB through a bunch of Blues fans at one of our watch parties. He caught my eye the INSTANT he walked into that bar. As in, had to pick my jaw up off the floor type caught my eye. I ended up sitting and talking with him, his friend, and his friend’s wife. Guys, I can’t even begin to tell you how strong that spark was. Like sucker punch to the face strong.

As we were walking out that night, he handed me his card. By the time I got home, there was a tweet headed at me telling me that waiting for three days to call or text was SO 2011.

He invited me out for ice cream less than 24 hours later.

Last night everything became “official.” Except for the Facebook part, since I’ll never break up with April on Facebook. Never ever.

Less than two weeks, and Ann has a boyfriend. You know what, though? I have never in my entire life been so sure about someone. Honestly, I was absolutely certain I was going to be with him before we finished eating ice cream on that first date.

Let me tell you about him, and then I’ll break things down.

Like I said, he’s a goalie (so hot…so, so hot) and a police officer. Since he has a public job, I won’t use his name, but he works for St Louis Metro PD. He’s 29 and 6’4 (!!!!!) and makes my stomach flutter every single time I see him. He tells me I’m beautiful and then when I do something he doesn’t expect, he calls me “Fembot.” He’s a huge Blues AND Cardinals fan and has made it perfectly clear that he is just as into this as I am. He’s cooked for me and come out to see me run after only an hour of sleep and a week of knowing each other. He’s gotten monstrous thumbs up from my friends already, and that coming from April is one of the biggest items in his “pro” column.

I haven’t yet found anything that goes in the “con” column.

The best part? He is HERE. He lives 15 minutes from me. Not a different city, not a different state, not four hours away with only the option of seeing each other once a month. HERE. I have gotten to see him nearly every single day since we met.

You guys? I am going to fall for this man.

I know, I know, you guys don’t even know who I am anymore. Trust me, I don’t know this side of me either, but I like her a lot.

Every single day I find a new reason to not let him go. Every single day he makes me smile until my face hurts. Every single day I have butterflies just thinking about him. Every single day he is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. Every time I have to leave him, I am counting down until I get to see him next.

He makes me feel safe and protected, like he will always be there for me to lean on if I need.

Here’s the weird (for me) part. Remember all those emotional walls I’ve got? You know, the ones with reinforced steel and bazookas and little, tiny men on top of them with grenades? They don’t exist. They have completely and totally disappeared. I don’t know where they went or when they went away.

Good fucking riddance.

On top of that, that red flag meter of mine that is so finely tuned that it will go off just being in the same building as a douchebag hasn’t even twitched. Not once.

I am not even slightly worried, not scared, not apprehensive at all about him. I want him in every single aspect of the word, and I will not be letting him go.

You know, it’s weird. I have said this to a couple friends already, but you know how when you look towards the future and wonder how things will be, how it’s all kind of fuzzy and unsure and something that’s nearly unfathomable? Since I met him, I feel like the haze has cleared a little bit, and my future is him. I’m not saying that I’m walking down any aisles, but I don’t want to be without him. Already the thought of him going away is painful.

Also, remember this list? The one wherein I compiled intangible qualities I wanted in someone, qualities that were damn near non-negotiable? So far he is meeting every single one of them. Well, at least the ones that are applicable. There haven’t been any rough spots yet.

What I find interesting is that not only does he meet that list, he meets that other “list” of things that would be nice to have, but I could live without. Things like being taller than me in heels or cheering for the same teams as I do or being able to cook. Hell, he likes Ke$ha and Star Wars.

I mean,  I WANT to cuddle with him. Want to. Voluntarily and often.

When I was telling April all of this at Friday’s home opener, she said, “Well, they say that putting what you want out into the Universe is a way of making sure you get it.”

Ok, Universe, I want to keep him.

I am over the motherfucking moon right now.

It’s Been One Week

I ran a half marathon yesterday. Today I didn’t go into work. Not because I need to recover from the race, but because I need to recover from this week.

Well, the last week and three days.

Last Friday my girl Steph flew into town. Since then my budget and liver have both taken the most severe of beatings.

Let’s recap! I can’t believe how long this is going to be.

Friday was the final Blues home game, where we celebrated Steph’s birthday and her arrival into town, met up with bunches of fun peoples, and just enjoyed the evening.

Saturday was a Blues meetup for the final game of the season, some spectacular company, an unexpected introduction to a boy, and several rounds of delicious, delicious beers.

Sunday, being Easter, I actually spent down with some of my family, who are awesome, and then there was an unexpected late night ice cream date (!!!!). Yep, a date. I’ll call him Goalie Cop, since he is both of those things.

Monday I met up with my marathon girls for beers and to watch the Cardinals game, and we sat around laughing and drinking and joking about just how poorly all of us were going to do on this race, given how much all of us had slacked off on our training.

Tuesday two of those marathon girls came lifting with me. That’s right. We actually did work out. Go figure, right? But then we had cocktails and watched Goon, and we spread the love of the movie to Goalie Cop.

Wednesday was another date night (!!!!) followed by a meet up for the first games of the NHL playoffs, which kept all of us out late. Thanks West Coast. Thanks a lot.

That’s when shit starts to get crazy.

Thursday was round one, game one for the Blues playoffs. It was the first playoff game of any kind I had ever been to, and guys? I love playoff games. So very much. After the game, the marathon girls (sans one) and I went to a bar where it was ladies’ night and successfully killed 17 martinis between the three of us. No big deal.

Friday was the Cardinals Home Opener with April, which was followed by too many Irish Carbombs at the bar after, but I got to meet Miranda (WHICH WAS AWESOME) and seriously, even though we stood in the rain for hours, it was all so worth it.

Saturday led to some traipsing around the city looking for appropriate balloons and naps, but then more tailgating and the second Blues game of the weekend.

Yes, those are tall boys.

We did great and actually went home and to bed that night. Go us, right?

Sunday we got up far too early and went out for marathoning. Steph and I realized that we had incorrectly thought the race started at 730am. Nope. 700. At least we were there on time. The race itself was ok. I ran with Steph, who was dealing with stress fracture issues, so we didn’t finish at a time I’d expected, but I’m ok with it. We spent the entire race discussing hockey and quoting Cool Runnings, which was thoroughly entertaining to those around us. Now, however, it’s time to focus on Ragnar.

Highlights of the race? Around mile eight and a half, running through the SLU campus, Steph and I at the same time started batting at each other. Why? Because standing on the side of the road were Blues captain David BaCkes and goalie Brian Elliott. We definitely yelled “Let’s go Blues!” at them and got in return some head nods, waves, and smiles. Being that I’ve loved BaCkes for just about forever, I swooned a bit. Running while going weak in the knees is difficult.

AND THEN. Then there was Mile Nine. The bestest mile in all the land. Not only were we floating because of having just seen two Blues, but then we got to the Darth Vader balloon, under which April, one of her friends from grad school, and Goalie Cop were standing to hand us frosty Budweisers. Yeah, we had a beer stop during our run. Best. Idea. Ever. Mile Nine was a good mile.

After the race there was the delicious lunching, the epic napping, and the staying up far too late to watch West Coast playoff hockey games.

And now here I am. Sitting at home, having done just about nothing productive (besides taking Steph to the airport). It’s noon.

I am exhausted and swooning my ass off and wondering just how much of my budget I’ve trashed this week and already missing Steph and wishing April could have stayed longer and finding myself beyond fucking hopeful about this guy. I will elaborate later as I don’t want to jinx this, but allow me to just say quickly that I don’t think this one’s going anywhere any time soon. Not if I have anything to do with it, anyway.

Phew. The upcoming week seems almost boring in comparison to the last.

Until Friday, when I head up to Chicago with April for a reunion with the girls we went to Vegas with last year.

Shit shows. I’m getting really good at them.

Life is really fucking good.