30 April 2012

the one with my new running shoes

Right, so, first I want y'all to know I lost another pound this week, bringing my total to 77.8! Getting so so close to the big eight-oh. Crazy crazy crazy.

Next, I'm changing things up a bit today with a video blog post! Ooooooh. Aaaaaaah. It's about 10 minutes long and I know you all are sooooo excited. But, seriously, I really liked making this and if enough people like this approach I might start doing more of them. Maybe even make it a weekly thing. So, after watching leave me a comment and let me know what you think.

And with that, on to the show. Enjoy!


27 April 2012

ray of light

This morning, as usual, I was up early for my Friday morning run. (Actually, I was up insanely early this morning, but that's another story). I decided to, once again, head on over to Edgewater Park for my run and, once again, love how different the experience is. I don't have to worry about cars on the road or staring at the clock on the treadmill or figuring out which way to turn, which road to take.

I can just run.

And run I did.



3.1 miles. That, ladies and gentleman, is a 5K. This morning I ran a 5k. And I did it spontaneously. That is, my plan was to run my usual two miles. Only, as I was closing  in on that second mile I decided I didn't want to stop.

So I didn't. I just kept right on going. And if I didn't have somewhere to be later this morning, I probably would have kept on going.

As it happens, yesterday I was looking up 5Ks for the summer and found one on June 23rd at the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo. When I mentioned something about it on Facebook, it turns out my college roommate is planning on being at that one, which might have just sealed the deal for me!

Now, granted, my overall average this morning was a 16 minute mile. But that's okay, because I ran a 5k. Me. At 234 pounds. Me. The girl who hated running up until about two months ago. Hell, up until about two months I couldn't run. And now that I've done it once, I can't wait until Sunday when I can do it again.

Quicker than a ray of light, I'm flying.

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

25 April 2012

all in the family



This is a copy of my great-great-grandmother's application to the Daughters of the American Revolution. The DAR makes .pdf copies available online, although you do have to pay for them (only $10). While she had four patriots to her name, each required a separate application so I went ahead and only purchased one of them (and I might have picked which one based solely on liking his name the best and the fact that he traced back to ol' Zecheriah). She was my maternal grandfather's grandmother, and a bit of a genealogist herself, and I can also apparently trace a patriot through her husband and my mom's maiden name, but that's proving a bit trickier: the name itself got changed through a mistake around the time of the Revolutionary War so that complicates the search just a wee bit.

All of this is my way of telling you all that I am applying to the DAR.

Now, I can't speak for all of you, but when I think of the Daughters of the American Revolution, I think of Society Women and white gloves and tea time and ladies who luncheon. Which is unfair, because they are a service organization that does a lot of volunteer work and members are active in their communities, but still. When I think of the DAR, I do not think of a tattooed, yoga-practicing, vegetarian librarian.

Then again, up until about a week ago I was unaware that part of my family had been in the United States since the mid-17th century, so, really, what do I know?

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

23 April 2012

run forrest run


source


This week I changed things up a bit with regards to my running.

For the past two months I've been doing Couch to 5K, which is a program that has you running three times a week. Normally I'd run Day 1 on Monday night after work, Day 2 Wednesday night after work (both on the treadmill), and Day 3 Friday morning outside.

This was fine for a few weeks until I realized how much I was loathing those evening runs and loving the morning run. So, I decided to move things around and this past week I ran Wednesday morning on the treadmill, and Friday and Sunday morning outside.

I really am a morning runner and ohmygoddess I love running outside.

I love it so much that I decided early in the week I would take my Sunday morning run to Edgewater Park and run along the trail right next to the Marina and then head into downtown and have breakfast at the Starbucks on W. 6th (mainly because I have a giftcard and wanted to try one of their breakfast sandwiches).

So this was the plan. And it continued to be the plan until yesterday morning when I woke up and it was gray and cloudy and sprinkling. But, no excuses right? The idea of running on the treadmill was depressing, especially when I was so much looking forward to running outside. So I grabbed long pants, a long sleeved thermal shirt, some fingerless gloves, my hat, and went to Edgewater Park anyway.

The trail is just about 1 mile around and surrounds a lovely green park with the beach and lake right nearby. I did two laps, so two miles, and for the first time was able to do my entire outside run without once having to pause to catch my breath. I just kept running. And by the end I was so glad I didn't let the few sprinkles deter me from running outside and I will no doubt be back next weekend. It's a different experience, running in a park. On the treadmill you don't actually go anywhere, your only focus is the time. When I run around my neighborhood, my only focus is the cars and trucks and making sure I don't get hit. With the park I could just run. There was no focus and it was the most liberating feeling ever.

Of course, I have to get better at remembering to turn off my MapMyFitness app once I'm actually done, since I forgot and it averaged my mile time including the five minute walking cool down. Oops.

Yesterday morning I ran two miles then went to Starbucks and had my spinach, feta, and egg white wrap and skinny vanilla latte and just sat and read for an hour before heading home. Then this morning I weighed in and was down another 1.2 lbs, bringing my total to 76.8. Talk about a fabulous start to my week.

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

20 April 2012

and now for something completely different

This month I'm sponsoring Mama Marchand's Nest, a fabulous blog written by the equally fabulous Tricia. I've known Tricia since high-school but we didn't become friends until a few years ago, thanks to the wonders of social networking. She also owns an amazing Etsy shop with adorable jewelry, like these owl earrings that I own.

Today I have a guest post up on her blog about yoga and the effect it has had on my body image. So head on over and check it out and read some of Mama Marchand's own posts over there. I guarantee you will love her (and her blog!) as much as I do.

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

18 April 2012

family matters

Yesterday, after a friend made a comment on Facebook about finding a family line that traced back to the Tudors, I decided to sign up for the 14 day free trial on Ancestry.com.

And then I lost several hours of my life.

Ooops.

It's fascinating and a true time sucker. Only you don't realize the time is being sucked away until it's several hours later and, oh look, time to go home. Even right now: I had every intention of posting a different post a few hours ago only totally forgot about it because I got sucked in again. Genealogy research is turning into this awesome puzzle, this addicting game that I can't.stop.playing. And I'm only dealing with direct lines on my mother's side: I haven't even touched my father's side or anybody's siblings.

Truth is, I'm, like, 75% German and most ancestors immigrated to the states in the mid-to-late 19th century. Which, give or take a country, is how it works for most people.

But then, see, there is this one teeny tiny branch of my maternal grandfather's side that just kept going back. And back. And back. All the way back to New England in the early 1600s. While, as far as I can tell, my family wasn't on the Mayflower, we arrived to the New World shortly thereafter.

Like this guy.



Born in Yorkshire England in 1596, Zechariah is the grandson of astronomer Sir John Field. Oh yes, I am apparently of noble birth. (Obviously, not really, but I just like saying it.)

Anyway. Ol' Zechariah came to American in 1629. For those lacking in their history lessons, that's only about ten years after Plymouth was settled. His son Joseph Field was born in Connecticut in 1658 and that Joseph had a son named Joseph (b. 1689) who also had a son named Joseph (b. 1723). This third son Joseph broke tradition and named his son Elijah and it is this Elijah Field who served in the Revolutionary War. It's also how I followed this line, thanks to the Daughters of the American Revolution website. Elijah, you see, had a granddaughter who applied, and was accepted, to the DAR. She was also my maternal grandfather's grandmother (my great-great-grandmother on my mother's father's side (Still with me?)).

So that makes Zechariah Field my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather.

If you think that's wicked, here's the other thing: Remember Elijah's granddaughter? She applied for the DAR with references to four ancestors of hers who fought in the Revolutionary War. And her husband fought in the Civil War.

And I have never felt more patriotic.

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

16 April 2012

what it takes

Last night I made vegetarian chili reminiscent of Cincinnati style with the chili served on top of spaghetti. This meant taking the ingredients and putting them into the Weight Watchers recipe builder to get the points. Using measuring spoons to make sure I get only 2 T. of light sour cream and low-fat shredded Mexican cheese on top. Since I'm taking the chili (minus the spaghetti) to work this week for dinner, I had to be precise in scooping them into the microwavable containers, I couldn't just guess that each serving was the same.

It even meant measuring out exactly 1 oz. of whole grain thin spaghetti.


This is what I do. Every single meal of every single day. When I go out to dinner with friends, like, say Jammy Buggers on Friday night and Tequila Panchos on Saturday night, I have to look at the food on my plate and try and estimate, taking that information and plugging it into my WW app (so if I am ever out to dinner with you and I take my phone out after eating, I promise I'm not being rude. If I don't do it right away, I'm liable to forget something, like the 3 tortilla chips or 2 T of ketchup). When out to dinner, it means making choices and sacrificing. Like only eating three tortilla chips or only half of the really delicious sammich I had Friday or not getting alcohol or only using one of the three provided tortillas and, instead, putting the cheese and sour cream directly on the veggies and eating them that way with a fork (this is the second or third time I've done this with restaurant fajitas and it's my new fave thing. I don't even miss the tortilla).

At home, my measuring cups and spoons get a lot of use. My post-workout snack during the work week is usually a caramel corn rice cake with 1 T of peanut butter and 1 t of honey and they get measured out every time, no guessing. I even have an orphan from an old set that I use specifically for the single teaspoon of olive oil I cook my eggs in each morning.

This is what it takes and yes it's a pain in the ass. Losing weight? Hard work and I don't just mean sweating on the treadmill or waking up early for yoga, although that, of course, is part of it, too. I wish I could go out to eat and order without a second thought. I wish I didn't have to plan and entire days worth of meals a week in advance. I wish I could order popcorn at the movie theater instead of sneaking in my own snacks (I do usually purchase a drink. Makes me feel a little less guilty). Forget calories in versus calories out because you can't out exercise a bad diet.

So that is what it takes. But this is what it looks like:


That is my new little black dress that I purchased on Friday. The blue cardigan was a last minute decision because I thought the sleeveless dress needed a little something more. The blue cardigan is also a Large. Buttoned up and my boobs still fit. And I have a waist again! I mean, hello, just look at those curves. This morning I pulled out one of my new pairs of Size 18 work pants and, like I did in the dressing room, thought "There is no way in hell these are going to fit." But they did, beautifully. Also, can we talk about the fact that this dress would make the most perfect First Date outfit?

1000 words, people. One thousand words.

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

12 April 2012

note to self

Fifteen years ago I was you. Shy, quiet, (blonde), and unhappy, feeling myself the token fat girl. The irony is that looking at this picture, I'm really not that much different weight wise than most of my friends surrounding me. This was, clearly, one of those situations where it was all in my head. But it was enough, because by the time I graduated I had put on more weight. At 18 years old I was wearing a size 18, a pattern (wearing my age) that continued for the next ten years.


Then, of course, came the Freshman Fifteen.


The above picture was taken at the end of freshman year at BG (and hopefully Tosch and Tim won't totally want to kill me for posting this). It's still six months until you're a redhead and a year until that first tattoo. I also really kind of miss that sweater with its wicked bell sleeves.

Now, in a few years -- the summer between junior and senior year of college -- you'll sign up for Weight Watchers for the first time. You'll do pretty well, too, losing about 49 lbs by your 22nd birthday and getting down to roughly 220 lbs.


This means that by the end of junior year of college you weighed in at 269 and you were so relieved that at least you weren't 270. Ah, if only you knew what numbers were ahead. But, of course, you don't. You have no idea what is coming, the good and the bad. If you did know, would you have made different choices? Would I be me if you hadn't been you?

Something about losing 49 lbs was too much. Something snapped and you slowly started to gain it back. So by the time you attended the wedding of a college friend a few months after graduation, you were back to 269, possibly more.

(Okay, if anyone is going to kill me for these pictures, it's totally going to be Snog.)

Over the next 8 years, you gain some, you lose some. Over and over again. Three years ago, after a really bad break-up you'll lose 45 lbs again. But, yet again, something snaps at around 45 lbs and you gain it all back plus some, which is how I got us up to 311 lbs.

There is some good news, though: The people in these pictures? With the exception of a few from the first picture at homecoming (and, of course, with the exception of Eddie Izzard), I'm still friends with everyone seen. In fact, that first picture was uploaded to Facebook by Lex , sitting there on your left (I also fully blame her for the inspiration to dig through old photographs). I've also picked up some new ones along the way: Girls you're sharing classes with, passing by in the hallway with nothing more than a polite smile, are women I now consider dear friends.

Here's some other good news: That bad break up? That, more than anything else, has defined who I am at this exact moment. And while I won't tell you who he is, know that it will catch you by surprise when it starts, take your breath away when it ends, and take you a really long time to recover. But that recovery becomes one the single most important experiences you will ever go through. Of course, if there is one choice I which I could make again it would be how I responded in the aftermath, but c'est la vie. So it goes sometimes. But know this: at 15 you've pretty much resigned yourself to life as an old maid. Love, however, is on its way for you. And it's on its way for me, too. Only difference is, your unhappiness at being single will cause you to make some, ah, unwise choices in college whereas I've found myself again being single and am happy where I am until it comes along.

And, the final piece I offer: Today I went shopping. I bought work pants and jeans. In a size 18. I can't remember the last time I wore an 18. I mean, a year ago I was in a 28 and here I am now. I also bought a dress. Again. Second dress in a week. That dress you wore to homecoming? Hated it, right? Hated most dresses. They felt uncomfortable and out of character. Now, though, dresses make us feel sexy and sleek, hugging our curves which you will also learn to embrace in a positive and personal manner and not just as the only worthy part of you.

It's going to take time. Fifteen years, to be exact, which to you probably seems like an impossibly long time but to me it's gone by so fast. Tomorrow morning I'll be at yoga, a Saturday morning ritual that has transformed my life, and this morning I ran a mile and a half. We do still have terrible math skills, since my mile time from last week was a few minutes off, but it's still faster than what you were doing at the far more athletic age of 15.

Tomorrow night I'm going to see the movie Titanic. Chances are you probably are, too, which is really just kind of weird. Tonight, though, I'm planning on putting on my new little black dress and going out with Lauren and Lisa.You haven't met them yet, but trust me, you're gonna love them.

You're also going to love my life.

Love from the ashes future,
Lady Lazarus

11 April 2012

going to the chapel

source


Sissy has decided on a June wedding with a gorgeous color combination of yellow and grey. She and I may or may not have a Pinterest board and a Google Doc as a place to exchange ideas, because I mean, hello, who wants to work when there is a wedding to plan?

I've told her I'm glad the first daughter to get married is the one that wants the more traditional wedding because this way by the time I get around to it, nobody will care if I go a more non-traditional route since they'll have already had this wedding. Plus, this way, I still get to participate in all of the wedding planning without the stress of it being my wedding. Instead I get to be the awesomely supportive Maid of Honor.

Like Hannah Montana said, it's the best of both worlds.

(Oh yeah, I also have to give a speech at the reception. And just thinking about it may or may not make me a little teary-eyed because, hello, my little sister is getting married. Awww. But I won't think about that. Instead I'll put my mad bachlorette party planning skillz to work.)

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

09 April 2012

then and now

As of today, I have lost 75.6 lbs since January 2011. Not only am I halfway to my goal weight, but my 100 lb reward tattoo is a mere 24.6 lbs away!

In light of this huge (pun intended) accomplishment, I decided it was time to post some pictures. I mean, what does a 75 lb weight loss look like, anyway?

So here we have be back in late December of 2010, about a month before I started Weight Watchers at 311 lbs. When I think of what I looked like back then, is is always the photograph that comes to mind:



And this, dear readers, is what I look like today:


That dress? Purchased Saturday at Old Navy. It's an XL. The largest in store size they carry is an XXL and I fit into an X-freaking-L. If I wasn't smiling so much, I would have been crying in that dressing room. As it is, I'm pretty sure I clapped my hands and jumped up and down.

So, y'know, just call me the incredible shrinking lady.

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

07 April 2012

life's a happy song

Last night I was hanging out with the cats, watching the new Muppet movie, when Sissy calls me.

"Hi Jill! [talking so fast I couldn't even understand her] Brother-in-Law?"

It took about five seconds for my brain to process that her boyfriend had proposed.

Yayayayayayayayay!

So congratulations and best wishes go out to Sissy and her new Fiance!




Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

06 April 2012

the tortoise & the hare

EDIT: Yeah, so my math sucks and I shouldn't be allowed to do math before coffee, because despite what I say at the end I actually ran something closer to a 16.5/17 minute mile. But my point about being a runner still stands :)

After careful consideration, I have decided that I, ladies & gentleman, am a runner.

I know, that's usually not something that requires a declarative statement. But in the past six weeks, thanks to Couch to 5K, I'm gone from the girl who hated running to the girl who now loves it. I love the energy and adrenaline. I love the way it makes me feel, both during and after. I love perfecting my mix and totally rocking out while on the treadmill.

I now run for fun.

The problem, though, is that I'm not fast. I mean, when I think of running I think speed. I think of those kids back in high-school with their crazy five minute mile, lapping me over and over again as I merrily walked the track. I think of the Olympics and Marathons and Iron Man competitions. When I think of running, I do not think of me.

Until now.


source

After some very brief lazy research (ie: Google), I can't seem to find a definitive answer to the question of what is the difference between jogging and running. Some people argue it's a question of pace, with anything below a 6 minute mile being running. Others say it's not about pace but effort. One person's jog might be another person's run. I mean, I might not be fast but man if I'm not covered in sweat by the end. Dr. George Sheehan was once quoted as saying the difference is "a race number," meaning it's only running if it's competitive. Then there are those that say there isn't any difference at all. That jogging is running and it's just a matter of semantics.

As it turns out, I'm faster than I think: This morning I decided to take today's Couch to 5K (Week 6, Day 3) outside. For the past few weeks I've been doing it on a treadmill which has worked well. But it's hard to judge pace and distance that way because I have to guess since I don't know what my natural speed is. So today I decided to find out by doing it outside along the East Bank of the Flats and then came home and mapped it out.

Not only did I run a little over 2 miles (admittedly, I did take a pause here or there around the halfway point), but I also ran it at a pace of an 11 1/2 minute mile.

Okay, sure. It's not earth shattering. I'm not going to be winning any races anytime soon. But let's not forget that, um, I don't run. Or I didn't up until about 6 weeks ago. And in high-school I walked the single mile required, so foget running over two of them. Oh yeah, I also weigh 237 lbs. My high-school self weighed considerably less and I just blew right past her.

I did have one funny moment on my run: On the way back I had to stop for just a second and as I did so, I heard a car horn honk. When I looked over, the guy was smiling and visibly cheering me on. So thanks, random dude in the white SUV!

Personally, I think it's a question of attitude. I think it's something you have to define for yourself. It's not about speed or distance. It's not about doing it, but wanting to do it. It's about looking forward to it. It's about wanting to improve, whatever way that means for you. Maybe it means running faster or maybe it means running farther. I really think the difference between jogging and running is entirely in our heads.

I think a jogger becomes a runner the minute they say so.

And so, I am a runner.

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

04 April 2012

my sweet baboo

Just about a year ago (April 2nd,to be exact) I decided to adopt a second cat.

I adopted my first cat, Chloe, back in August of 2007 when I was a grad student at the University of Kentucky (yes, that UK. No, I don't watch basketball). At the time I was only gone maybe 5 hours a day so most of the time it was just me and Chloe hanging out. She is a super social creature, as anyone who has met her can confirm. Very friendly and quite the extrovert, going up to anyone who seems like they'd be willing (or not so willing) to pet her or has a comfy lap that looks empty (or not so empty).

And that was all fine and good until I graduated and moved back to Cleveland and got a full-time job. Suddenly my super social cat was left home alone for 12, 13 hours a day. So, after about a year of that, I decided it was unfair to her and I needed to find her a friend.

Enter Linus.


With both cats it was the exact same experience, which can only really be described as Love At First Sight. I wandered the cages, checking out the cats and kittens available. But with each rotation I'd eventually wander back to one cat in particular. In this case it was a small male tuxedo cat. As soon as I opened that cage and started to pet him, he began to purr and nudged my hand with his nose.

Winner winner, chicken dinner.

Of course, once I actually got him home he went into Fight or Flight mode, choosing flight and spent the first few days hiding under my filing cabinet in my office. The next week he spent it hiding under my couch. Chloe wanted to play but he wanted nothing to do with either of us. I spent about a month convinced I'd never ever actually see him, but slowly -- very slowly -- he started to come out and his personality blossomed.

He's a nice balance to Chloe, who can be demanding. I mean, at 6:30 am every morning she's knocking shit off my nightstand, knowing the sound of my votive candle or cell phone hitting the floor will be enough to wake me. Linus, on the other hand, just sits at the end of the bed patiently waiting for me to get out of bed and ask if he wants breakfast and then he goes running into the kitchen.

Most of my friends and family have never seen him in person, as he usually hides when company is over. Sometimes he even runs from me when I go to pet him. Affection has to be on his terms and he makes that very clear. But, with enough patience and space, he'll mosey on up to the couch and comfortably settle in my lap and nap for hours on end. At night he hops up on the bed and sticks his nose in my face, sniffing, his way of saying good night. Some evenings he curls up next to me to sleep while other times he goes off running to play and in the morning I'll wake up to find mouse toys in the sheets, presents he brought in the middle of the night.

When I adopted Chloe, I never had any intention of ever adopting a second cat. But now, I can't imagine a household without the both of them. Often I am caught breathless by the sheer magnitude of love I have for these two animals. In a world of uncertainity, it really is all about the little furry things.

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

02 April 2012

the weighting game


Them: So do you have an end goal in mind?
Me: I'd like to lose another 70 lbs.
Them: Another 70 lbs?
Me: Uh, yeah?

Last week I had this conversation twice. Once with a co-worker and once with my yoga instructor. The fact that both women had the exact same reaction -- complete disbelief -- struck me as, well, odd. I mean, I get it. Or at least I think I do: See, both of these women are thin. My co-worker is slight and petite and while my yoga instructor is tall, she has a graceful athletic build. 70 lbs on their frames and, thus, in their frame of minds, must seem incredible. 140 has to be staggering. 140 is a full grown adult woman, so I'm no longer talking about just losing a tween anymore. I'm talking about losing one of them.

Actually, I lied. If I make it to goal I will have lost a total of 151 lbs. That will be roughly 48% of my starting weight. Of course, the really fucked up interesting part is even after all of that, my BMI will still put me in the "overweight" category. But by then I won't care because if I make goal I will have lost half of myself.

In the past, this sort of realization would have flicked a switch in my head. In the past, this is why I failed. The previous two times I did WW, something happened when I had lost 45 lbs. Something mental, emotional, I don't know. But 45 lbs was too much. 45 lbs was scary enough on its own, how was I going to lose the rest? Of course, it is also important to point out that both times I did WW in the past I didn't exactly like myself and was of the rather naive belief that losing weight would fix whatever was wrong with me. I'd lose 45 lbs and then I'd realize that I was still as fucked up unhappy as before, so then it became a question of, Well, if I'm still going to be all wonky in the head regardless of size, then I might as well be unhappy and just eat whatever the hell I want.

It's amazing how much easier weight loss is when you like yourself exactly as you are. Because it stops being about the number. That intimidating manipulative number. You don't stress over a .2 loss (or even the occasional gain) because you know you kicked ass on the treadmill. You're no longer afraid of restaurants or eating out because you not only know how to eat smart you actually like eating smart. I haven't been to the pool in about a month because of conflicts and I miss it. Hell, these days I even run for fun

I've been at this for 14 months and as of today I've lost a total of 73.4 lbs, which means I'm not even halfway there yet. Weight loss slows down the smaller you get so I probably have at least another year and a half left, maybe more. But that's okay because this is a marathon, not a sprint. I have the rest of my life to be smaller so I can wait it out until I get there. And, if nothing else, at least it gives Sissy and I plenty of time to plan (and save money for) our I've Made Goal Weight trip to Disney World.

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus

01 April 2012

that's a wrap

And so, it is the last day of the 36th Annual Cleveland International Film Festival! I hope you were all carried away as much as I was by the fabulous collection of films. Tonight is the Closing Night party and the announcement of the awards and I'm excited to see which films won, as I know I voted quite a few "Excellent."
This morning was the volunteer Thank You breakfast and movie, which was the 17th film I saw at the festival. Oh yes, I was quite the busy little filmgoer this year (thanks to that all access pass). Considering I only watched movies on the weekends, it comes out to about 2.8 films a day. So! Let's break it down, shall we?

Total Films: 17
Shorts Programs: 2
Narratives: 4
Documentaries: 11

I went a bit doc crazy this year. In fact, I saw one film last Saturday I loved so much and knew Papa G. would love, too, that the next day when he and I went together I went and saw it again. Also, of the 4 narratives (fictional) films I saw, two were for volunteer purposes: there was the one I had to screen last Friday and the one today. I just really, really, really love documentaries.

Right, so, Thursday night was the BGSU Alumni Event at Tower 230. There was only about 8 of us and while I didn't know a single person, everyone was super friendly and we were all fairly close in age (1998 graduates through 2006), so it was fun to reminisce about the college and town. The alumni coordinator who was there met Sissy a few months ago at an event she attended and actually recognized my last name and asked if we were related. I told Sissy we should go back for an alumni tour as it's been quite a few years since either of us was back. Following that, I went and saw two documentaries and didn't get home until about 11:45pm.

Friday morning I was up at 6am to do my Couch to 5k routine then I had to volunteer 8:15am - 11:45 am. After that I was done I went home to catch up on sleep. That night I skipped the independent films and, instead, went to see The Hunger Games with my friends Lisa and Lauren. We saw it at The Capitol and, if you are familiar with the books, you'll understand why it was a very fitting choice.

Yesterday was my Day o' Docs with my friend Staci. We saw four films, taking a break for a late lunch at the Flaming Ice Cube downtown. There really is nothing more fabulous than going to a restaurant and knowing that you can order anything you want off the menu (at the same time, though, it's a little overwhelming! I'm so used to only having a handful of veg friendly options). On Saturdays I usually like getting take out for lunch after my yoga class and think this might become a new favorite.

The end of another CIFF is always bittersweet, but I got my full of films so I think I'll be good until next year. If anyone wants to join in the volunteering fun for the 2013 festival, let me know so I can pass you the name of the person to contact! We'd love to have your help!

Love from the ashes,
Lady Lazarus
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