This is going to be one of those posts that have no point, ok?
I’m feeling really good this week. It feels really fucking nice to say that out loud. Well, not out loud, because I’m typing this. So I’m really saying it on—paper?
Guess what? My gym opened! No, I did not buy a gym—the gym I go to opened! When my friend Tara visited me a few months ago, she convinced me to try out a fitness studio. I was feeling super uninspired with my workouts, and with long hours happening at the office I needed to maximize my routine. I tried three different studios (and almost joined one) before finding the perfect gym. It was across the street, and the workouts were so hard I almost threw up. My two main criteria.
Anyway, the gym across the street from my apartment was a temporary location (whomp whomp), but they just moved into their permanent space (yay!). For the past four weeks, they completely closed shop as they made the move. Do you know what it’s like to go from someone screaming in your face with music blaring, to staring blankly at a squat rack with your headphones in? It sucks.
So I’m back to working out, I’ve been cooking some bomb-ass food, and I got to hold a bulldog puppy this morning. Life is great.
Guess what else? I’m photographing a cookbook! I know, it sounds insane. It is insane. I don’t know what the author was thinking.
The author is…drumroll…Meg! You know Meg, I talk about her all the time. Meg and I have been friends for years and never met in person. I know, it sounds like the start of a serial killer movie.
So anyway, Meg got a book deal and I could NOT be more proud of her. I was so excited she got a deal. It’s half book-book, half cookbook. Years ago, when I worked for Primal Palate and watched my badass authors publish three cookbooks (and photograph a fourth), I used to joke with Meg that if she ever decided to write a cookbook, I’d shoot it. It’s crazy the way things work out.
Long story short, Meg bought a ticket from Canada to DC, and the first time we meet she’ll be living with me. For a month. Luckily, my apartment is huge (relative term) and has a “spare bedroom.” I’m pretty sure it was intended to be a food pantry. On Saturday morning, I decided I didn’t want to negatively impact Meg’s creative juices by having her crash on my couch for four weeks, so I painted the food pantry, threw a daybed in, and viola! Spare bedroom.
So those are my life updates. And since this was just a word-vomit of a post, I don’t have to write a conclusive ending, right? Besides, I’m running late to work!