1. As you may or may not remember, back in February when I registered for the Chicago Marathon I mentioned wanting to run the race for charity, but not knowing which charity I wanted to run for. Well, I’ve found one!
I’m officially running the 2013 Bank of America Chicago Marathon for Team PAWS, and I’m STOKED. I’m ridiculously passionate about fuzzy critters (dogs in particular), and I really get on board with Team PAWS’ mission to make Chicago a No Kill city. Save da fwends!
Anyway, you know where this is going, so I’m not even going to bother with the fluff: GIMME YO MONEY. Even if it’s $1. Or 50 cents. Or one penny. I need to raise $500 before the marathon, and ideally I’d like to raise a lot more than that, and even more ideally I’d like that $500 to not come only from my checking account. So, as I said: GIMME YO MONEY.
Except here’s the thing. Because I’m so wildly famous and need to carefully guard my identity, I don’t want to post the link to my fundraising page on the blog since I don’t want the whole Internet knowing my full name. If you are interested in contributing to my cause, however, let me know in the comments and I’ll e-mail you the link, if you weren’t lucky enough to be included on the first e-blast I sent out.
Full disclosure: I will continue to harass all of you until I reach my fundraising goal, so in order to keep my blog content from becoming repetitive, feel free to give early and generously 🙂 . Don’t make me post Sarah McLachlan videos, people. I’m not above guilting you into donating.
2. This pretty much sums up my weekend:
Except I only knew four couples, not six, but whatever. Close enough. #myfriendsaremarried, I love you.
There’s a ranty post about the culture of young marriage in West Michigan coming your way next week. If feminist tirades aren’t your thing, or if you forgot to check the calendar recently and are still, like everyone I grew up with, ever, under the false impression that it’s 1955, I kindly suggest you ignore the post entitled “Ringless,” as it will probably only make you angry. Or maybe challenge you to think differently/be open minded, but LORD KNOWS if there’s anything West Michigan does poorly, it’s open mindedness.
Never, ever, in the history of clothing, as a t-shirt told a bigger lie (or been more sarcastic, depending on how you choose to look at it) than that one.
3. And with that, I’m off, kiddos! I’m headed to Seattle for the weekend with my parents to surprise my grandma for her 90th birthday. Grandma’s health has not been the best lately, which is weird because she’s legitimately the most badass woman I’ve ever known. Heart attack? Whatever. Stroke? Ain’t no thang. Bounced back from all of those like whatever, can’t hold me down, body. Total champ. But things haven’t been quite as hot for the past month, so I’m really glad I have the opportunity to see her. I’m also COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT because I hate flying. Absolutely hate it. In the past few months, I’ve dreamt on two separate occasions that I was on a plane with mechanical problems, and then I read this horrifying chapter in Stiff, our May book club book, about what happens to a body when a plane explodes in the air. None of these things have done anything to calm my flight-related anxieties. I’m excited for our trip, but man, I wish there was some way to take it that didn’t involve flying.
Whooooo wants to save the puppies of Chicago? Answer: you do!
Do you enjoy flying?