The End of an Era

This week marks the beginning of the end of a few monumental things in my life.

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For starters, it is the last week of my 20's.  I turn 30 this Saturday.  

Do you want to know a good way to not give a rat's ass about turning 30?  Be 9 months pregnant on your Birthday.  Suddenly getting older seems a lot less significant than the human being that is about to exit your body and enter your life.  Forever.

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It also marks the end of my illustrious business career in real estate and beyond.  I'm officially retiring this Friday.  Most people who retire when they are 29 are super rich Internet bubble geniuses who are going to sit back on their mega yachts and count their monies.   I, on the other hand, am going to stock up on Ramen Noodles and nearly expired meats and start couponing my ass off.  I shall consider it my greatest challenge to date.

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 I don't even know if the people at my office know I'm leaving, but I'm sure they don't really care. When the most frequently asked question you get at your workplace is why you have hot sauce on your desk, rest assured, you will not be that missed by the end of the next week. 

And finally, this week, and today specifically, mark the end of my prenatal yoga experience.  Thank the yogi gods above that today's class was the last class of my yoga package, because I simply cannot salute the sun anymore at this size.  

You know it's time to temporarily hang up your yoga pants when you are involuntarily making the following position modifications:

Downward Down ---> Paralyzed Polar Bear that has just been hit with a tranquilizer dart

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Child's Pose ---> Depressed, defeated sumo wrestler

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Happy Baby ---> Actual woman giving birth

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It's not even so much the size of my stomach standing in my way as it is the sensation of a 20 lb bowling bowl hanging right in and around my pubic bone.  The pain is real.  And it is increasing by the minute.  

One more modification that is temporarily permanent in my life:

TGIF ---> TGIOHTMWLTGA (Thank Goodness I Only Have Three More Weeks Left To Go...Allegedly)

Snack Attack

I think there should be a rule that once you eat all your lunch and snacks at work, you get to go home.

 

 Once I eat my last banana or packet of nuts, I always feel like there is nothing to look forward to for the work day and I instantly check out mentally.

 

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Who's with me!?  They've already taken away our nap times.  Give us our freedom to snack and attack...the EXIT door.

 

This message brought to you by Lazy Fatties of America.

Driving Miss Ferry Confused

Yesterday I had to drive to Southport for work.  I've never been by car, and my GPS is 7 years old, so I went by Mapquest directions on the way there. 

On the way back, I decided to just go with my GPS since I wasn't in a hurry.  I went about 5 miles in the other direction before happening upon Fort Fisher Blvd, which you can only take by ferry.

Come on GPS!!  I know GPS years are like dog years and that you are very, very outdated, but throw me a bone here.  If I am about to have to drive my vehicle on to a boat for an hour+/-, I'm going to need to know that so I can load up on snacks.  I'm ok with you not knowing about the most recent traffic circle, but taking me by sea - not OK.

Needless to say I did an immediate U-turn, coming back the way I came (+ an additional 10 miles from the almost-ferry-confusion).

In other sneaky news, I just saw a car get pulled over by a light green Chevy Traverse.  That's fighting dirty, cops!  You must at least reveal yourself!