LmNop

I have a hilarious friend Ellen. We refer to her as “LmNop.” Get it? LmNop? LN? L? N? ELLEN? Yes, OK, you’re with me. Every note I receive from her is signed “LmNop.” Never fails. It’s my pet name for her. It works. It’s special.

My pet name from her is “Koo Koo.” It stems waaaay back to two years ago when we found ourselves at the most bizarre concert of all time. The band? Koo Koo Kanga Roo. They were awesome. Read the hyper-linked blog post. You’ll understand.

Koo Koo and LmNop. LmNop and Koo Koo. Two peas in a pod. Koo Koo Kanga Roo is the magical, absurd glue that will forever hold us together. On that fateful night I signed up for the band’s email list, so time and time again I get an email update from the silly boys and smile, thinking of Ellen.

But yesterday it happened. The stars aligned and the most mind-blowing coincidence in all of the universe struck my inbox:

“LMNOP music video comes out later today!”

KOO KOO KANGA ROO HAVE A NEW SONG AND MUSIC VIDEO CALLED ‘LMNOP.’

And then they tweeted it. IT WAS REAL.

The first thing I did after cleaning the brain goo from my couch from whence my mind exploded was message Ellen. Something along the lines of “OMG DID YOU SEE THIS HOLY CRAP UNICORNS?1!?”

It was true. Our band, the band that formed our pea pod, solidified everything awesome that could ever happen in the world.

IT’S A SIGN FROM THE JESUS. DREAMS DO COME TRUE. And now you know. You’re welcome.

I said it: January 20th, 2012 under krittabug - 2 Comments.

In St. Anthony’s name, amen?

As someone who ran 50 miles last fall with a small, stuffed pony strapped to her back (quite literally), it’s not much of a stretch to say I’m superstitious. I’m a sucker for lucky charms. Luck of any kind, really. Trinkets, words, prayers, apparently. I’ve kept a rock from each trail race I’ve done. Have a collection of seashells from my recent trip to Florida. Carry a prayer card in my wallet. Keep a tiny unicorn in my pocket when necessary. It doesn’t help that I’m also incredibly sentimental. Everything I touch has some sort of sentimental value. Just ask my parents. They’re the ones who had to deal with boxes of stuffed animals when I was a child. I couldn’t part with them, you guys. THEY HAD FEELINGS. Now, as an adult, everything has feelings, everything holds luck, everything tugs at a piece of my sentimentality.

For those of you waiting with bated breath, the interview went great this morning, despite waking up to a sporadic blizzard and showing up in my boots. I actually felt at ease. We laughed and in between learning about each other, chatted about my running and novel-writing. Thankfully no one asked about my greatest weaknesses, so I didn’t have to fess up to the nervous sweats or my affinity for cats. I left feeling good, confident and happy that the snow stopped pounding from the sky so I wouldn’t die on the drive home.

What they didn’t know is I had my tiny unicorn in my sweater pocket the whole time. The teeny, tiny unicorn that mom gave me in the middle of my 50-miler. Because if you think magical feats can be accomplished without the help of unicorns, YOU ARE MISTAKEN.

And a couple weeks ago, a friend passed along a prayer card for St. Anthony that her mom insisted I take. It was zipped safely in a small Ziploc baggie, and I’ve kept it in my wallet since. I’ve never met her mom, but she said several women from her church prayed to St. Anthony when they lost their jobs and it worked. Maybe it’s not obvious here on this blog, but well, those who know me know I’m not much for church and Jesus and all things holy. I believe in them, and trust in them, just don’t regularly (read: ever) partake in them. But the fact that a mom I never met thought enough of me to pass along her own good luck charm made my heart swell 14 times it regular size (and thank God for miracles because I didn’t die from a then-enlarged heart).

So like a good, little follower of Holy Things, when I got home, I took the prayer card out and — out loud — recited the prayer. Twice. In case St. Anthony didn’t hear me the first time. I imagine those saints hear a lot of prayers. Perhaps their hearing isn’t the best these days. YOU CAN NEVER BE TOO SURE.

So yes, I prayed. Me. I’ve perhaps done it on a few other occasions when the situation called for it, but it felt very much like how talking to my invisible friends felt as a kid. Yes, I had invisible friends. Shut up, you did, too. I felt good about it, and I’ll be darned if I’m not incredibly attached to this little Ziploc baggie and what it holds inside.

At this point I’ve done what I can. All of my luck and superstitions have been utilized, and it’s in someone else’s hands. Hopefully St. Anthony’s because I’m putting a lot of stock in that man right now.

Thanks for the well-wishes! I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, recite this for me, like, all the time:

“O Holy St. Anthony, gentlest of Saints, your love for God and Charity for His creatures, made you worthy, when on earth, to possess miraculous powers. Encouraged  by this thought, I implore you to obtain for me (THIS JOB). O gentle and loving St. Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, whisper my petition into the ears of the Sweet Infant Jesus, who loved to be folded into your arms; and the gratitude of my heart will ever be yours. Amen.”

(For the record, I copied that word for word, and the writer in me cringes at the excessive commas. I’m sorry, Jesus. Amen).

I said it: January 17th, 2012 under krittabug - 7 Comments.

Send me your luck and your ice cream.

I’ve got a job interview tomorrow. A good, legitimate job interview. It holds promise. So naturally I’m gnawing off all my fingernails and panicking as though I’m about to meet a firing squad. Is this behavior natural? I get that pit-in-stomach, sweaty armpits kind of nervousness that makes me want to vomit. I think the sensation has only increased as my time unemployed has grown. Every day is one more day I don’t have a job, one more day of spending money I don’t have, one more day I DON’T HAVE A JOB.

It’s getting hard.

I’ve prepared my writing samples and resume and cover letter. They’re all shiny and ready to go. I’ve stalked the company as far as they can be stalked. I’ve recited my biggest weakness to myself, because don’t they always ask that? (I’ll leave out the part about nauseous pit-sweating). Other than that, I’ve been moping about the apartment, listening to the maintenance man battle my toilet. It’s broken. For the last three days I’ve had to flush at least twice for successful plumbing. And I have been battling a cold that’s kept me from running, and instead has kept me moping on the couch. I AM SO GOOD AT THIS.

Any time I’m sick I lose all ability to function as a level-headed adult. I’d rather have my mom here cooking me egg sandwiches and soup while I read Tiger Beat, or something. I’m easily saddened. I’m easily annoyed. I’m easily able to make poor decisions. So, basically, it’s me, magnified. I am all of those things anyway without even trying. But add in a cold, and poof! FREE REIGN TO BE A SAD, CRANKY GIRL LOADED WITH FIGURATIVE AMMO. I miss things and people I shouldn’t let myself miss. I want to eat ice cream for breakfast and watch the entire Dawson’s Creek anthology. So I probably will.

But what this all really comes down to is I have a job interview in the morning. So if you could please send every ounce of luck and magic and unicorns and ponies and everything ever my way, thank you. I’m getting real close to owning my own unicorn farm over here, and I could use a few more.

I said it: January 16th, 2012 under krittabug - 12 Comments.

That time I went to Florida.

I needed that vacation. Real bad. Now that I’m home, covered in kitties on my own couch, I’m glad to be here. Reality isn’t so bad. But damn it was good to get away for a week.

I’m back from Florida in one piece. Survived my solo flights, the sunshine and 39.3 miles of the Goofy Challenge. I even brought back a tan along with my sweet ass race medals.

Seriously. LOOK AT THOSE THINGS. They are amazing. Every bit as amazing as one would imagine race medals would be from the most magical place on earth. Now, the REAL question is, are they worth the $350 race registration? Um. Well. That’s debatable. For me, the $350 race registration was worth the entire experience I had in Florida, but as for the races themselves — they’re only fun if you make them fun. Otherwise they’re crowded and kind of boring (aside from the mile or so you spend in the actual parks). But don’t worry, my race pal, Krista, and I got our money’s worth. More on that later.

I spent my first full day in Orlando relaxing by the pool. IN THE SUNSHINE AND WARMTH. It was fantastic. I saw exactly two chameleons that day, which, let’s be honest, made the entire trip worth it. CHAMELEONS! ADORABLE! I can’t say enough about my friends Mike and Cat, who gave me free range of their apartment while they were gone for the weekend, including the glorious pool and Mike’s Nissan XTerra. I sunbathed, enjoyed the sunset on the balcony, painted my nails, caught up on some television. It was just like being at home, only I was in FLORIDA. So, I won, naturally.

I spent the weekend at the Pop Century Resort with my favorite name twin, Krista (obviously). Our room was in the 70s- and 80s-themed area of the resort, which means we were surrounded by awesome for three days. Like, Roger Rabbit and Pac-Man awesome. We called ourselves Team Krista for all of the obvious reasons, and I’m so glad I got to share the entire experience with her. We each made the trip to Florida solo after we both had the proverbial rug pulled from under us in life. But damn, if we didn’t enjoy ourselves anyway.

Saturday and Sunday were race days. The 2:30 a.m. wake-up call each race required was just as awful as you might imagine. We had to be on a shuttle to Epcot by 3:30 a.m.. The races both started at 5:30 a.m. By 2:33 a.m. each morning I cursed myself for getting myself into such a situation. But alas, there I was. The race starts were a spectacle of music and fireworks and crowds and Disney characters and both Krista and I wondering what the hell we were doing.

The Donald Duck Half Marathon was outrageous. Twenty-seven thousand runners over the span of 13.1 miles. It was ridiculously crowded. We muddled through it as best we could and put on our happy faces. I was spent by the end. So much dodging and stopping and starting and sunshine. I’d be lying if I said the entire experience didn’t leave me dreading the marathon the next day. Thankfully, a delicious brunch perked us right up, and we spent the remainder of the day relaxing by the pool and secretly wishing the marathon wasn’t on deck.

On Sunday, the Walt Disney World Marathon happened, and will go down as the actual goofiest marathon ever run. Once we endured the start line spectacle once again, and dragged ourselves through the first half, we decided it was time to throw everything to the wind and enjoy ourselves. From that point on we stopped at nearly every photo-opp spot to snap pictures with the Disney characters. We danced along to the music blasting throughout the course. We laughed with other runners. Whined about the beating sun. Counted down the never-ending miles.

AND THEN WE RODE A ROLLERCOASTER.

Oh yes. Yes, we did.

Somewhere in and around mile 18 we were weaving our way through Disney’s Animal Kingdom. By that time the parks were open to the public. As we passed the Expedition Everest rollercoaster ride, another runner came running up behind us, excited, asking if we rode the rollercoaster.

“Uh. No?” we replied, as we continued running. Could we even do that?

“YOU HAVE TO GO. JUST GET IN LINE. IT’S ONLY A 5-MINUTE WAIT,” she said, laughing.

I looked at Krista. She looked at me. And we bolted. Right off the marathon course. We giggled like children who were sneaking out of the house passed curfew, and ran into line, tucking our race bibs under our shirts. We had no idea if we were allowed to do it. Still don’t, actually. Before long, we were on the rollercoaster, still laughing hysterically at ourselves. There we were, mile 18 of a marathon, and we just snuck onto a rollercoaster.

IT WAS AMAZING.

That set the tone for the rest of the race. Sure, by the final miles, the heat and the wear and tear on our legs were starting to take their toll, BUT WE RODE A ROLLERCOASTER SO IT DIDN’T MATTER. Everything up to that point was null and void, as far as we were concerned. It kept giant grins on our faces the rest of the race.

Finishing the race felt like heaving a huge weight off my shoulders. No more running, no more heat, no more crowds, and the coveted medals were mine. ALL MINE. Man, it felt fantastic to be done. Team Krista had done good.

The rest of my trip was spent with Mike and Cat. We made our way to New Smyrna Beach on Monday and laid on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean, soaking up the sun and the absolute awesome that is Florida and beaches and vacation. Holy shit, it felt good to lay there listening to the waves. FROM THE OCEAN. I was at the ocean. A place I hadn’t been in years.

Last June, when I started planning this vacation, it was supposed to be something entirely different. A trip with a boyfriend and some mutual friends. I was excited then. After a breakup, a job loss, additional drama and a general disinterest in even going, I almost bailed on the entire trip. I am so ridiculously happy I changed my mind. I may not be where I want to be in life, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to take every opportunity I can to enjoy every minute of what I do have. I had a blast. It relaxed my mind and filled me with memories.

Goofy Challenge: accepted and accomplished.

I said it: January 11th, 2012 under krittabug - 5 Comments.

One race down, one to go

So, all this happened today during the Donald Duck Half Marathon. Hell to the yes. The finishers medal was worth the 2:30 a.m. wake up call. On deck tomorrow: Mickey Mouse Marathon.

Team Krista, for the win!

I said it: January 7th, 2012 under krittabug - 4 Comments.