funk in deep freeze

Rings and hairs: switching up styles

21 May 2012 4 Comments

by meganfinley in me

I change my wedding rings like I change my hairstyles — OFTEN. This week I changed both! Wanna see ‘em?

Here’s what my ring used to look like:

All vintage and pretty and EXACTLY what I wanted when I found it. But over the years I stopped wearing the engagement ring and instead wore various wedding bands and rings that I had accumulated (original engagement ring, my wedding band, and a ring I got for doing an Offbeat Bride ad) but NEVER the pretty vintage engagement ring. I just noticed that my tastes had changed and I was drooling over more modern styles. So I decided to change it up!

Here’s how the ring looks now:

I love it! It goes with all my wedding bands and various rings, to the point where I’m switching up which rings I wear every day now. Oh, and did I mention it cost me NADA!? I traded my old ring to have this custom made, and that was that. FUN!

Speaking of fun. Let’s talk about my hair. More

Megan’s Offbeat Home food challenge

25 Apr 2012 5 Comments

by meganfinley in me

THIS is my idea of the perfect meal: a HUGE pizza and beer.

I always say, the biggest mistake Aaron and I made in our marriage was NOT marrying someone who cooks. We both have TERRIBLE eating habits and no skills when it comes to cooking. I happen to love eating food, I just don’t happen to love creating food. Aaron is one of those people who, if he could, he’d just take a pill in order to get all his nutrition — he has no love of food and hardly any time to eat anyway. If either one of us married someone who knew how/loved to make meals, we’d be so happy. So folks, if you’ve got a partner who loves to cook, CHERISH THEM.

I just came back from an Offbeat Empire work retreat on Bainbridge island. Part of the deal with the trip was that we would all take turns making each of the meals. As I know there’s no Trader Joe’s on the island, my go-to meal of frozen pizza and pre-packaged salad was NOT going to be a possibility. Barring that, I got NOTHING when it comes to feeding the masses. So I offered this up:

Also, reminder to anyone who is partnered with me — I’m more of a hinderance then a help in the kitchen. So, if you don’t want to have to instruct me like you would a toddler when it comes to making food, I’m MORE than happy to pay for everything we (you) need if you’re more than happy to turn it all into food.

Which then got turned into useless Megan does all the dishes, while the other, competent, Empire workers created the edibles.

I was MORE than happy with that arrangement. I washed and cleaned and, in turn, ate wonderful things like grilled cheese and pear finger sandwiches, pancakes, black beens and homemade tzatziki and dutch babies for breakfast. My stomach gurgles just thinking of it all.

Today Ariel contacted me with an idea for an Offbeat Home post

Ariel: Basically, CAN THIS PACKAGED FOOD NON-COOKING PERSON SURVIVE WITHOUT PACKAGED FOOD FOR ONE WEEK?
Cat provides meal plans/recipes for you.
Megan: HA!
Ariel: You document your experience.
Megan: that would be hilarious.
i would totally try that

And so it’s looking like, starting next week, I will be totally trying that! I’m going from eating like this…

Breakfast: toast
Lunch: pre-packaged salad or turkey sandwich
Dinner: frozen pizza or frozen beef and broccoli

To something like this:

* Three meals + 1 snack + 1 sweet/dessert each day
* Prep time must be less than… 30min

I’m thinking that if Aaron or Coco (or anyone else that knows how to run a camera and possibly edit!?) are around while I’m attempting this experiment, I’ll have them capture video. Because that way, even if I fail at my meal attempt, at least will get some HILARIOUS footage. Possibly including panicked shopping trips?

So stay tuned to Offbeat Home and see what comes of this idea.

Taking a break

04 Feb 2012 21 Comments

by meganfinley in me

In a rare moment of Seriousness, I’m gonna admit something that I don’t generally share. I suffer from anxiety attacks. Mostly they just keep me from going out sometimes, and for a few years, keeping me from grocery shopping without the aid of an iPod and therapeutic tunes. But lately, and because of some life turmoil, those little mini attacks have turned into Full Blown Attacks.

The other night I had a complete panic attack — you know, not being able to breathe, feeling like a heart attack is eminent, clutching onto that poor guy I married and not being able to let go. And the only way I calmed down was when I took an anti-anxiety pill that was prescribed to me by my dentist in ’06. (Found it in amongst the dog’s meds after a mad search!) Oh so dramatic, I know.

The thing is, they’re not going away. And they come on with no warning. Due to the similarities between them and an asthma attack, I keep hitting my inhaler because the placebo affect works, so that means I have quadruple the amount of steroids coursing through my body, which means my heart rate is increased, which means that that it’s stressing me out more than usual. And all this is stressing Aaron out as well.

Aaron suggested that I take a break — a vacation to relax. So, this Sunday I’m heading over to my favorite island in the world and I’ve been ordered by both Aaron and Ariel to — get this — NOT WORK next week.

Not work!?

This is going to be hard. The only time I haven’t worked at all was in 2009 when I went on the houseboat trip that had NO WIFI access. The only time since ’09 that I took a bit of a break was when I was on a camping trip with my boss — who had to yell at me and then demand I separate myself from my beloved iPhone so that I wouldn’t sneak check emails.

Let’s all be honest here, I’m going to Maui and it’ll just be my parents and me in a location that I’ve been to so often that it’s like a second home, so I’ll probably have a LOT of down time where I will still work on things here and there. BUT Aaron has asked me not to work, so I will try my best not to.

Things I WILL try to do while on Maui:

* RELAX
* Stay off my laptop as much as possible.
* Read
* Go to the beach and just close my eyes
* Swim
* Work on improving myself
* Work on relaxing so that when I come back home I won’t be such a basket case.
* TRY not to obsess over the things that are getting me down.
* Have a few island-y cocktails
* Go for long walks
* Just freaking breathe — asthma free bonus!

Does anyone else have any advice for me on how to manage these panic attacks?

Young Megan: The Dork is strong with this one

31 Jan 2012 10 Comments

by meganfinley in me

Wrote a post on Offbeat Home that references a “young Megan” and so, of course, Ariel asked [read: demanded] that I link to this picture. (I have a sneaking suspicion that my darling boss actually has that link bookmarked, because I thought of this photo the other day and then thought “sigh, it’s somewhere on Twitter, I don’t feel like searching for it.” And then BOOM! Ariel links me to it no problem.)

So now I’m post it here for easy finding, for posterities sake, and so that we can all have a good laugh.

Ladies and gentlebergs, I give you Young Megan:

Looking at photo albums that my mom made and then gave to me. Can't believe my parents let me go to school looking like this.

DMV madness

02 Aug 2011 2 Comments

by meganfinley in me

So one of the great things about turning 30 is that the DMV reminds you that you are clearly have grown so old and your body has morphed into an unrecognizable state from your twenties that you are FORCED to come in, change your descriptors (weight, height, hair color, etc) and then take a new photo. What sucks for me is that, once you get married, if you change your name, they also force you to take a new photo. So, like, two years ago I already went through ALL of this. But does the DMV care? No. DMV really doesn’t give a shit.

Yesterday, I was going to go to the DMV, but then Aaron guilted me into going out and getting lunch with me, and that turned into a shopping trip for my birthday (that’s a blog post for tomorrow) and I ran out of time. So today was to be the day.

My license from 2008 that I retired once I changed my name. I call this my 'blonde surfer girl' photo.

Oh! I should mention that I, of course, got the letter that told me what I needed to get done by 8/4/11 WELL over a month ago. So that means that I had to take care of it days before my license expired. So, bear in mind time is of the essence.

So, yes, today was to be THE DAY. The day of the DMV. The day of waiting. The day of making sure that I take a shower before I leave the house so that I can hope to get a good photo. It was also the day that I woke up with some allergy-induced eye swelling. Seriously my right eye could barely open, was all red and was watering profusely. About an hour later some of the swelling went down. And by “some of the swelling went down” I mean, my husband first saw me from across our apartments courtyard and immediately said, “what happened to your face!?” and rushed up to me looking extremely worried. Yay.

A few more hours later when it was time to go to the DMV, my eye had gone from “disgusting oozy mess” to “did you get into a bar fight last night?” Nothing to be done. I had to go TODAY.

So an hour and a half after showing up to the DMV + 2 week for delivery, I shall have a brand new license with a brand new photo of me looking like a mini version of this guy. Ah well, my luck with great pictures for the last two cycles had to run out sometime.

Times are good Megs

31 May 2011 10 Comments

by meganfinley in me

Dear Megs,

I want to blog my current state of affairs because one day you might forget this time in your life. I think it bears blogging/open letter writing as I believe this is an extraordinary time for you and I want you to always remember this time when you were being a legit bad ass.

Right now you’re working three jobs at once: writing and managing content for Offbeat Bride, guest posting for MyWedding.com and working on MFP shoots.

At this particular moment in time, while you are working your butt off, you are also in Texas (where you’ve been for the past two weeks) taking care of your father who is recovering from a surgery. You’re seriously getting up, walking his dog, fixing and fetching all his meals, running his errands, and dressing his wound. And while taking care of someone isn’t easy for you, and it’s even less easy for your father to have to be taken care of, but you’re super happy and feel lucky as hell to be able to do so. Your dad thanks you every day for everything you do. But more than his thanks, you appreciate the time you guys get to spend together. The bonding’s been nice.

Oh yeah!
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