You'd think I'd be able to post a couple of these suckers, especially since there's so much going on in my life right now. But you'd be sadly mistaken. The reason? Pregnancy is HARD. I have zero energy, zero motivation, and almost zero mobility. (Picture a turtle stuck on its back and that's what I look like trying to get out of bed in the morning). This isn't quite the magical time I had anticipated, so I ask your forgiveness for my being so super absent for so super long. But the good great news is...I'm back. And by 'I'm' I mean 'We're', because I'm currently two whole people. Its crazypants. Let me catch you up.

Back in May, I (probably...most likely... ok definitely drunkenly) said these famous last words: "I think I'm ready to have a baby." And my husband, ever the people pleaser, was like, "Sure, Honey, whatever you want". And once was all it took. Only, sadly, a few weeks later, we learned that little nugget didn't "stick". And so I was no longer ready for that baby. I was very very VERY sad. I wouldn't wish that on anybody. I didn't want to experience that again and was in no hurry to try. But then I got drunk again.

And once was all it took...and this time it took.

We announced our news to our families in December, slightly early for our liking, but it was convenient since we'd all be together. That part was exciting, but then the morning sickness hit. It was all day and all night. I would describe it as like being on a windy road with a blindfold on. Or like being on a spinny ride with the flu. Or being stuck on a treadmill with food poisoning. I was starving and exhausted and losing my mind. Luckily, my work gave me two weeks off to sit at home and try not to puke all day. The doctor gave me sleeping pills, told me to eat anything the baby would let me (I will never want english muffins or gatorade again!), and this would all be over after 14 weeks.

That doctor is a lying bitch and has since been relieved of her duties as caretaker of me and my fetus. My new doctor is a lot more honest. I both respect and hate that about her.

The "morning" sickness lasted all the way up until 20 weeks. Finally, after the halfway mark, it was only at night. Then, after 25 weeks it had completely subsided. I've been eating everything I can get my hands on ever since. Baby Cho especially enjoys strawberries, watermelon, lemon-water, and vanilla ice cream.

The first and second trimesters weren't ALL bad, though. Our Reveal Party was actually the best day of my life. I was convinced from the moment the pee-stick showed a positive that I was growing a tiny baby boy. I planned his room and his outfits and his future as a superhero fireman football player. Danny was rooting for "the underdog"...a baby girl. Well...

I was so wrong. Biggest shock of my life. But the absolute best moment of my life, too. It was like everything became real. I had a little lady in my belly and I fell in love with her all over again.

I'm now in my third trimester. Getting fatter and sweatier by the minute. We're slowly working on her room and trying to get our lives all organized before she gets here. I'm told I'll have no time ever again for anything, so I better get my sh*t together. I'll complain about all that in another post.

Right now, my baby's kicking me. That means its ice cream time.

I promise to post again before she goes to college.

For. Ev. Er.

I know its been forever since I posted last, but trust me, I've been a busy little bee these past few months. That isn't to say that I haven't spent some of that time in front of the computer. My friend Sarah introduced me to Pinterest.com and, well, nothing else in my day seems to matter. Everything interesting and crafty and just plain awesome is on that site and there aren't enough hours in the day to see it all. So, of course, now I have the ap. Sigh. Check it out, but be warned, you'll get Pintoxicated...and need a Pintervention. (Laughing at my own plays on words).

Ok, focus. So, I've enlightened you all on my amazing trip to London, but I think I forgot to mention how our half marathon went. Um, 'freaking fantastic' is the answer to that. Danny finished in 2 hours and 35 minutes and I finished in 2 hours 45 minutes. We are pretty proud of ourselves, considering neither of us were sure we'd live to see the finish line. Here are the details of this epic adventure...

My sister and brother in law (heretofore referred to as Amanda and Yogi) drove down to Anaheim with Danny and I the day before the race. We were all super nervous as we collected our race numbers and registered. We went into the park for a few hours just to get a quick Disney fix in (and to calm ourselves) and went to sleep fairly early that night, as we needed to be at the start line by 5am.

Danny and I on our way to the Starting Line

The four of us right before take-off. 

It was dark, of course, when we got there. The crowds were huge and the atmosphere was prickling with excitement (and anxiety). I wanted to pee my pants. I suddenly felt really scared that I'd hurt myself or I'd humiliate myself by not finishing. When, at last, they announced our group and the race begun, I stuck to plan A, which was: put my headphones in, put one foot in front of the other, and go.

I did. And guess what? It worked. And it wasn't scary at all. It was seriously one of the best experiences of my life. The first four miles were through the park. Characters and Disney workers encouraged from the sidelines. The second part of the race was through the streets of Anaheim. Marching bands and cheerleading squads from local schools cheered us on. There was never a dull moment.

Danny (who has endless endurance) stayed with me for the first 7 miles. I could tell that I was holding him back, even though I never stopped running...my legs are shorter and I just couldn't keep his stride. Finally, I told him to go, that I was fine, and have some water for me at the finish. So he took off and I was left on my own. Amanda and Yogi were a mile behind, as we got separated in the initial shuffle. At this point, I had only ran 10 miles on my own and all of those miles I ran on a treadmill. I was happily surprised to learn that I run faster on the street and was clocking 11 minute miles up until mile 10, when my knee started to stiffen. I was stoked when I passed that mile marker because it was a victory in itself, as every step after was now the farthest I'd ever gone. I walked mile 11 and half of 12 because of the pain.  When Disneyland was back in sight, there was an elderly man standing by himself with a sign that read "Chuck Norris never ran a half marathon" and I took off, suddenly determined to beat Chuck Norris at something. The man yelled that I only had half a mile to go. When I hit mile 13, I could see the finish banner, just .1 miles away. I took off in a sprint. It was the oddest feeling ever, my legs were numb and I could feel a rush of blood suddenly as I pushed myself that final bit, to the end.

If you watch the video, which is an arial view, you can see a tiny fist hit the air as it crosses the finish line.

That would be me.

My finishing medal

In front of Disneyland after running 13.1 miles

In case you're wondering, yes, we'll do it again. Every year for as long as we can. It was that fun.

And, with that, I'd like to proudly announce that, for the first time in my life, I have successfully carried out my New Years resolution. If you read that post, you'll know that I resolved to better myself by trying things I never have, by controlling my fears in order to experience things I never thought I would. I've been waiting a year to write these words.

I did it.

Thanks for your support. =)

Harry Potter and the Twenty Nine Year Old Die Hard Fan.

A Note From the Author


Before I start on this lengthy tale, I would just like to clarify exactly what I love about the Harry Potter series. If you haven't read the books, then you most likely think I'm just nerdy.  That's fine, but trust me, they are great reads. As a lover of all things literary, I truly believe that JK Rowling is a living legend. Her imagination is boundless. Her mysteries kept me guessing, her characters kept me laughing (or crying), and her made-up world kept me entertained during long quiet hours at work (books on disk = so much better than music). While the movies are wildly different from the books (I love the books a million times more), there's something entirely awesome about seeing your favorite characters on screen...and so I heart the movies, too.


=)

If you read my previous blog, you know that I basically dragged my poor mom across the "pond" to London just for the final Harry Potter premiere. I knew before going that people would be camped out ahead of time in Trafalgar Square, far before we would be arriving in London. For some crazy reason I didn't see this as an issue and trusted in my...God? Perseverence? Flirting skills?...ability to make things happen, to get me as close as possible to that red carpet.

This is my story.

We landed at 5:30 AM the morning before the premiere. We went to our hotel, found our room wouldn't be ready until 3 PM (major fail since we'd just traveled for 24 hours), checked our bags and freshened up in the hotel lobby bathroom like classy Americans. Lucky for us, in Europe, deodorant is optional, so we still smelled better than most. Finally, we set out to Trafalgar Square to scope out a game plan.

This is what we saw.

 Yep, a few people made it out to the premiere.

They're in cages because they've been camping out for days. They had tents and air matresses and coolers filled with sustenance. Some people hadn't showered, much less seen a bathroom in a while. Their dedication was admirable, but these annoying muggles were between me and my dream. I was hungry, tired, panicky, and had no clue what I should do. We walked around the Square looking for the end of the queue (line) and when we finally found it, mom offered to stay in it while I looked for a British man in a yellow vest to give me the 411.

I found a gentleman and he kindly told me not to panic. The people in queue were going to receive wristbands. They had 8000 to give out. If I didn't receive a wristband (as it looked as though there were 8000 in line ahead of me) I could come back tomorrow and watch the entire premiere from the boundary. "Just get here early, Miss, to get a good spot in front." The man said sweetly, in his adorable British accent.

OK! Good work! Problem solved. So mom and I decided to walk around town and get a feel for our neighborhood, while we waited for our room. We walked over to Leicester Square to the theatre, where the stars would get to watch the movie. We admired the beautiful buildings and statues until we couldn't take the hunger anymore and went back to find our room was ready. We immediately fell asleep.

We woke up that night around 9 and set out for dinner. We ate at a cute Italian restaurant near the hotel and walked around town some more. We checked out Trafalgar and they were FINALLY letting the poor caged humans into the actual Square by the red carpet. We watched the very first two people get in. It was a pair of young teenage girls. They got the spot next to the stage where the Las Vegas girls had been when this whole idea first was planted into my brain. In that moment I was so incredibly happy for them. They had such determination and patience. For a fleeting second I was jealous and a bit upset that I hadn't had that kind of drive, but immediately remembered that I flew from America. I have a job and a life and not a ton of money, so that spot was always there's. I just hoped I would be able to get up early enough to get mine.

I woke up the next morning before mom, threw on some clothes and literally ran down to Trafalgar Square to find some premiere viewing real estate. What I found, instead, was a 15 foot wall surrounding the entire area. He lied to me? Why, London, why? Immediately I ran back to the hotel, yelled some semi-hysterical gibberish at my poor sleeping mother and ran back to the Square. I planted myself in a line that was so long that it snaked through the side streets. After about an hour, I found another gentleman in a yellow vest and asked if I needed a wristband to be in this line, to which he replied, "Yes, Miss, I'm sorry, but if you don't have a wristband I'm afraid you should just give up." Give up? Um, your buddy lied to my face yesterday, so I'm not going anywhere. I started thinking about how much money I could spare to buy someone's wristband, desperate for a way in. I thought about trying to steal one. None of this was helpful, so I simply took a picture of the line to remind myself of the result of improper planning.



Then, all of a sudden, a huge crowd of people came running past me on the street, in the opposite direction of the premiere. Someone screamed "Trafalgars full, they're setting up at Leicester Square!!", I grabbed my bag, and took off running.

Leicester Square is a tiny triangle sized theatre district with shops and cobblestone roads. I parked my anxious ass on the street where everyone else was. Suddenly out of absolutely nowhere it began to pour. Like a dumbass American, I didn't have an umbrella, so a super sweet non-English speaking girl shared hers with me for about an hour. During this time, there was Harry Potter music blasting from the theatre. Workers reassured us that the stars would drive by and wave out of their cars. I finally relaxed. If I got to see their hands, I was satisfied.


Until.

There came a sudden announcement over a loud speaker informing us that "this was not a viewing area, everyone must leave." You lied to me again, London? For shame. Heart? Sunken. Tears? Very near. Clothes and laptop? Soaked. Give up? Never.

Everyone on my side of the street got up. But everyone on the other side stood their ground. So, I went over. I heard a teenaged Gryffindor telling her friends that "This is exactly where [she] stood at the last premiere and [she] saw everyone."

I didn't move for 2 hours. Mom found me and was happily sipping wine and tea in the hotel lobby behind me. Suddenly there was an outburst of screams and yells and a rush forward. I ran a few yards and was faced with...could it be?...a waste-high metal barrier. Like the kind they set up around...wait for it...RED CARPETS.

Success. Second row.

I stood in this spot for a few hours until I heard my mom yell from somewhere behind me (through a thick crowd of people), "MEGAN, LUUUUNCH!", and saw a bag being passed to me.  A few hours later I heard (from the same general area), "MEGAN, WAAAATER!", and was passed a travel cup. She's the best.

I continued to wait...

 my spot at the red carpet that i worked so hard to get to. I stood here for 9 hours. 

 bringing in the red carpet.

 all set up.

Close to the starting time of the premiere, a yellow vest came over and told us that the stars would be walking by. I was sick of getting lied to by London and decided I'd believe it when I saw it.

Finally the show started...and I saw it. 

 neville longbottom!

 draco malfoy!

luna lovegood! and her lovegoods. dang, girl. 

The rest of the event I took video. I didn't want to miss a thing. Its shakey, but super awesome. I saw everyone except Hermione, Ron, and (tear) JK Rowling, all of whom drove by in bullet-proof cars. After seeing (and being part of) that crazy crowd, I can't really blame them. 

Finally, when the last attendee was safely in the theatre for the private viewing, the crowd dispersed. I turned around and my mom was standing there. She hugged me. My clothes were still soaked. So were my cheeks. Happier tears have never fallen. 

The end.

Not really. We still had 6 days left in LONDON!!!!!! But that's a whole 'nother blog.

Megan's a Quitter

I totally feel like blogging, but really should be in bed. The happy medium is this quick update. Bullet points for optimum efficiency.

- I've been working on my London blog for days. Its lengthy, but its the most awesome story of my life thus far. [It even beats the story of when Danny broke up with me via Chipotle burritos and I spent the rest of the night drowning my sorrows at TGIFridays, watching Amanda pierce her nose, skinny dipping in her parents' pool, then eating like 12 Jack in the Box tacos. But just barely. That was an awesome night.] And, so, I'd like to do it justice.

- I finally had enough and quit my job. While I absolutely love who I worked with [see: the Production Department and the Accounting Manager], I absolutely could not love who i worked for. Therefore, one Friday I simply walked in, gave a one day notice and left, free as a [expletive] bird. And since, I have been the happiest Megan since...well, the day after I drowned my sorrows at TGIFridays, watched Amanda pierce her nose, skinny dipped in her parents' pool, and ate 12 Jack in the Box tacos, when Danny called me to tell me I was the love of his life. Which is another great story.

- I have no official plans currently, but after taking a few days off, I realized I didn't want to part with my savings [see: unemployment buffer] so I polished off my resume and applied to some local places I usually can be found at anyways. If I'm there, I may as well get paid right? Right. I chose the one that was the most foreign: Jacks Restaurant in Pleasant Hill. I've never worked at a restaurant before and am having a blast. Unlike my previous position, I am off my ass, away from a computer, in public, dressed adorably, and talking to folks all the livelong day. My heart swells. Luckily, my new management is also awesome and gave me normal daytime hours...so Danny and I still have similar schedules. However, please note: if you guys know of anything designy, planny, public speaky, advertisey, or just plain awesomey feel free to name drop your girl Meggo.

- I'm running the marathon in 3 days and just today got my knee braces and a water bottle that straps to my hand. I've successfully gone ten miles, which is what I was told to shoot for before the run, and so I'm all set. I'll do 6 miles tomorrow and 8 on Friday and then 13.1 on Sunday. And it will all be over. I'll let you know if I die or if I'll sign up for more. The coolest thing is that after long runs I'm not even tired. I'm just sore...so maybe some good did come out of this nonsense.

- Bing keeps trying to walk on my computer. He only wants my attention when I'm typing, sleeping, or peeing. Jerkface.

- I take that back. He's my past, present, and future.

- I went home last weekend to see my nephews play football and ended up at happy hour [shocker] with my famdam. I also had the pleasure of seeing...pretty much everyone I ever grew up with in Disco...and it was amazing. I love reunions. Probably because I wasn't a bitch in High School. I was a fugly midget. Who doesn't love a fugly midget?

And there you have it. I will leave you with a pic of me and my awesome running shoes because we are the protagonists in this epic tale....

We hope you're rooting for us.

Check.

When I created our wedding website, I wrote a biography (auto, in my case...duh) for both myself and Danny. In mine, I wrote:

"Her ultimate dreams are to own an adorable kitten, travel across the Atlantic Ocean, beat Danny Cho in a game of Cribbage, and pen a memoir entitled "Tales of the Five Foot Nothing".

Well, guess what kids? Its a year later and I can check off two of those things. Mainly, I'm excited to say I've traveled, not once, but twice, over the atlantic ocean. Secondly, Bing is adorably orange and perfectly striped. So, check and check. 

It's no secret that I'm a super hardcore Harry Potter nerd fan, and so it should come as no surprise that I watched the online streaming of the London premiere of Deathly Hallows Part One. During one of the interviews the camera panned over to a group of fans wearing "I Heart Las Vegas" shirts. I thought, well if they're there, why can't I go? And so, the seed had been planted. 

Because of my flying phobias and lack of money (I had just gotten married and therefore all my paychecks from then until Kingdom Come belonged to Visa...still do, actually) I was fairly certain this trip would never happen. However, if there's anything a graphic design degree teaches you [other than "negative space is your friend" and "craft is everything"] its that anything can be done in any amount of time. All you need is an idea and a lot of coffee. 

Luckily, I have a pretty amazing mother and so she agreed to go with me. I'm pretty sure she was calling my bluff, but, my friends, i do not bluff when it comes to the Wizarding World or conquering fears. And so, two weeks before the London premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part Two (the final UK premiere for HP ever), it was with very sweaty palms and a bit of nausea that I booked my mom and I a week in London, England. 

That [amazing] story I will save for my next post. Spoiler alert: I made it back alive.

everything-a-phobe.

They say that the number one fear among people is public speaking. In my case, I love public speaking, but am terrified of pretty much everything else. Especially anything that can lead to my ultimate demise (which is the number two most popular fear among people). So, for your quick reference, in case you want to invite me to go bungee jumping into a pool of spiders in the dark with Freddie Krugar (RSVP: hell no), I'm scared of:

1) my feet being more than two feet off of the ground.
2) anything with more than 6 legs and/or 2 eyes.
3) the dark.
4) horror movies.
5) diseases, germs, getting sick, hospitals, death.
6) the ocean. large bodies of water. rushing rivers.
7) small spaces.
8) bridges.
9) throwing up. [me or anyone around me].
10) childbirth.
11) horses, dogs, and birds.
12) [now that I'm suddenly developing allergies] food.

I understand how so very, very sad this is. Its even harder to admit. These things aren't just stuff I prefer to avoid. These are things that get my heart beating fast, my palms sweaty, my stomach aching...almost to the point of number 9.

So, what am I gonna do about it? Face 'em. And I'm proud to say I can mark a few of them off of my list. For the ones I can't "face" (like the sicknesses and such) I try and stand up to. I psych myself in by saying "it's for a million dollars". Of course, it isn't, but for some reason I'll do anything for fictional money. This technique came in handy thrice last week. Once when I was scaling a mountain with friends, once when they pressured me into sliding down a waterfall into a (cold-ass) river, and once when I found myself in a golf course bathroom occupied by the worlds entire spider population [and a bladder full of pre-golfing beer].

Slowly, I've been becoming friends with planes. back in '08 I conquered my first solo flight.  Last year I flew to the bahamas. This July I flew across the atlantic ocean. I honestly didn't sleep for weeks leading up to that trip, but I did it. Twice, in fact. Words cannot express how incredibly proud of myself I am. And that's just a plain awesome feeling.

time crunch.

Lately I've been wondering where all my time goes. Its already June and I'm not entirely sure how I got here. When I was younger, time flew when I was having fun...now its just flying. Out the window.

In high school, I woke up at the crack of dawn to straighten my frizzy fro into a more acceptable mini-fro. After school I had sports or student council. I didn't work (thanks, mom and dad), but I had all the time in the world for corn field beer drinkin' (sorry, mom and dad), SAT prep, or driving around in Amanda's egg-shaped car. In college, I worked three jobs, went to school full-time, and was an officer in sorority. I still had plenty of party time. Now, I barely wake up a half hour before work, sit at a desk for 8 hours, workout for 1 hour, and try to get some "life" in until bedtime. This usually includes grooming of some sort and primetime television. My days are zapped, but i'm not doing anything.

Perhaps because I'm no longer working towards something? Probably. But we'll get to that later. :)

What's most frustrating is, I'm not only lacking time, I'm lacking memories. Fun stories about my weekend. Things to joke about on FB. Pictures. Am I to believe that those times are over? Are we at the age where we find happiness in the every day, day to day? Well, I'm not sold.

Sure I enjoy a nice lie-in day. I like sleepy time and fat pants. Who doesn't? But I still feel the need for a bit of excitement. Changing of scenery, going to the city, dinners with friends, new projects, etc. I'm willing to accept that my nights in three-inch heels (and three-inch makeup) are over (yay! I've paid my debt to the dangerous/ridiculous/pointless/painful shoe gods), but I need to figure out how to stretch my time, because there's still plenty of life to be livin'.