Monday, April 08, 2013


Monday, April 08, 2013
Gary and I have been together for five years now.

It alarms me that we are slowly becoming one of those married couples that look alike.

We've always looked alike. We have the same colour of hair, we're the same height, we have similar faces, generally speaking. But recently, we've started wearing similar outfits.

But Megan, you say, anyone can wear a black t-shirt and jeans, and that doesn't necessarily mean you're dressing alike. And that would be true. More often than not you will find me out in the world wearing jeans and some kind of black sweater, top or t-shirt, and the same can be said about my spouse.

But alas, on Saturday, we sunk to a new, desperate, mockery-inducing low when we showed up to a dinner party wearing...

Well, the photo speaks for itself. But in case it doesn't, the new Team Geyer jersey colour appears to be lavender.

What is more puzzling is that moments before we left the house to attend said party, Gary was wearing orange and I was wearing green. Seconds before leaving, somehow, in our one-bedroom apartment, we managed to both change without the other person knowing, and before we could correct this horrifying faux pas, we had our coats on and were in the car.

I'm not sure what's next. His and hers haircuts? Matching windsuits? It's just a long, sad, slippery slope.

Saturday, March 02, 2013

Winter is Coming

Saturday, March 02, 2013
It is finally March.

And March means that Winter is Coming.

Game of Thrones, Season 3, debuts at the end of this month and I am absurdly excited about it. Gary and I are watching a behind the scenes featurette as I type this and I am considering spending the rest of the weekend watching Seasons 1 and 2 over again. Who needs sleep, anyway?

 Plus, they've just issued a winter storm warning and it's going to snow tonight, so you know. Timely.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Coming up empty

Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Something has happened. I can’t pinpoint when. I don’t know why. But all of a sudden, I find myself without anything interesting to say.

It’s not just on this blog. It’s in my day to day life. And it’s never happened before. And I don’t like it.

I’ve always found myself to be an interesting person. I have no problems finding friends, which is surprising when you consider the arrogance of that last sentence. But it’s true. I enjoy my company. I have a pretty decent set of social skills. I like to listen as much as I like to talk.

And for the first time in my life I find myself coming up short with things to say.

I don’t know if this phenomenon can be contributed to confidence (I have my doubts - I still think I'm pretty awesome), or routine, or weariness of hearing myself rant about the same issues over and over. Perhaps it’s because I’m actually challenged and satisfied in my daily activities from 9-5 and it’s using up all my available brain cells. Maybe it’s because my personal life is stable, with the hazy Vaseline-smear of the first year of marriage making everyday life appear soft-focus. Maybe it’s because I took a personal pledge to try to stop whining about things my husband does that drive me kind of crazy when he became my husband, because I had a choice. I could have chosen to not marry the man who gets incredible satisfaction from what appears to be his only hobby, which is spending 6 months of his life reorganizing media files on his computer.

But then I’d be single, with a hugely disorganized music collection, and where’s the benefit in that?

I lamented this notion, that I have nothing of interest to contribute to a conversation, to my friend Amanda, and she passionately told me that I need to fix this. I need to do things. DO THINGS, she said. Amanda has two kids under the age of two and I’m pretty sure it took all her resolve not to punch me in the face because while I know she wouldn’t trade those kids for anything, she sure would like to go see The Hobbit/any movie, ever/except maybe Paranormal Activity Part 37 in the theatre on a whim on an average Monday night.

I see how I take my DINKy freedom for granted. I should be doing things with my free time, while I still have free time. I should write that freaking novel. I could spend my evenings in the pub playing name that tune or taking continuing ed classes or doing things that aren’t watching 5 seasons of Hot Aussie Drama Sea Patrol like my life depends on it.

Maybe I’d have more to talk about if I did. I’m sure I would. Any suggestions? (I guess I could go on about how hot talented Buffer is and how long it took me to come around to Dutchie even when yeah, I see the appeal, but I wish I didn't have to trade one for the other.)