"Don't defibrilate me."

I'm pleased to report that there have been a few sunny days in Seattle. They are sparse and almost too much of a tease more than anything, but I am so thankful for the warmth when it decides to swing by.

Unfortunately we're church hunting again. The place we'd found in ...September-ish (I think) is essentially closed for 5 months. I'll spare the dramatic details, as they're quite confusing and they don't change the fact that the place we liked is no longer available. Church hunting is not my favorite activity, but I eagerly await whatever life lessons this journey holds.
This morning we went to a place that I can see myself liking. During the sermon the pastor was talking about having a calling, which naturally made me think 'what's my calling?' I immediately think to my job-- I love it and I guess if I had to answer someone in a hot second, I would claim that. But does that mean I should be doing it ... all the time? I've been trying to figure out what activity/hobby/whatever I should take on, and it seems I'll be staying in Seattle for at least another year. Grad school? Ugh-- let's not go there. Another job? What? Trying to find a coaching opportunity that will work with my work schedule is close to impossible. The pastor said something else, too-- that we should be doing things related to our calling.. our activities and choices should all be an investment in our hobby. That is logical, but if my calling is actually work-- I can't imagine having all my activities center around that.
I miss college-- when I was so busy with classes and soccer and giving silly campus tours that I didn't have time to think about a calling. I feel very stagnant right now and it's my own fault completely, but I feel like choosing something is a big deal-- commitment, pressure, etc. It's overwhelming.

Mr. Wonderful got a contract to teach at his dream job at his dream school for another year-- which is wonderful and I'm very proud of him. He beat out other faculty who have more experience and seniority. It's a big testament to how valuable and awesome of a teacher he is that he was offered a contract.
Our plan B if he didn't get one was to do travel nursing. I'd do the nurse part and he'd get temporary subbing jobs or odd jobs wherever we went. It was his idea even! I've wanted to do travel nursing since nursing school, but the timing has never been right. First it was 'They don't hire new-grads' so I decided to work for at least a year and then look into it. I did exactly that, but of course the economy had tanked-- hospitals couldn't afford travel nurses so jobs were really sparse and being given to way more experienced nurses. So I moved to a permanent job in Seattle. While I really love my job here and feel very privileged to work where I do, Matt and I both know that Seattle isn't where we want to live forever, and are both excited for the day we can move. I was really excited to finally pursue travel nursing, but again-- it's been put off. It's quite conflicting, I won't lie-- I'm so happy that his career is working out and that he got what he wanted. My joy for him is genuine. I can't deny my disappointment, though, that we'll be here
for another year, and that a 'dream' of mine is postponed... again. I understand why and for the most part, it makes sense. I think I got my hopes up a little too high.
I am trying my darndest to see the bright side-- I get to look a little harder for some good things about Seattle, embrace parts of it that I've ignored. I believe whole heartedly that God wants me here for a reason, so it's probably in my best interest to figure out why.

Complete topic shift: I love spinning and I've been getting reacquainted with the treadmill. I'll leave it at that, as my speed (or lack thereof) is shameful in comparison with where I once was, but the fact of the matter is that I've made very slight progress and I'm insanely grateful for it. I'd love to do another triathlon this summer. I've gotta get my fitness back first though.
A few weeks ago, as I was cleaning my bike off after spinning, the instructor gave a shameless plug for the other classes she teaches and for a free 50 minute fitness assessment. I forget her exact wording, but she said something about creating a plan to help you achieve your fitness goals and that caught my ear. I want to get back into lifting weights as I miss being toned, and the positive effects resistance training has on your metabolism are ones that I'd benefit from greatly. I've hesitated to visit the weight section of the gym because I've only got the same routine I've had since high school and college-- it's all soccer specific. Maybe I don't want soccer thighs anymore... Maybe this lady could set me up with a lifting routine that would be more appropriate to my fitness aspirations now. So I argued with my self for a good 3 minutes as I wiped down my bike eighteen times... and finally decided to inquire. I opened with "Here's the thing: there is no possible way I can afford personal training sessions... but I'm curious about this free assessment..." She suckered me in and at noon the next day I was walking into my 50 minute fitness assessment. First she asked me about what I ate and I cringed at the thought of my refrigerator full of condiments and my freezer full of Bocas. I told her it is pretty random, but I don't eat meat. So that conversation focused more on protein and its importance (durrrr) than anything which was fine because I hate talking about meal plans with people who don't even know me. So then we moved on and she said "let's do some measurements." All the blood in my head immediately drained and I felt clammy. My heart was racing and my stomach immediately started doing flip flops. I don't know why I reacted so strongly... I knew that measurements are standard in any assessment. So there, smack dab in the middle of the open floor plan of a mega gym, this lady took calipers to all my cushy areas... she used a tape measure in more places than I ever imagined, and she weighed me. All in the midst of bodybuilders, ballerinas, super gym freaks, and the like. It was mortifying. People stare. I stared back... kind of a hate-stare. Hehe. But seriously-- if you ever see someone being publicly humiliated in such a fashion, it is just a common courtesy to look away. Nobody likes a starer.
So after she was reminding me of my pudgy body composition and ridiculous ratio of fat:nonfat, we did a mini workout. Really-- the exercises in and of themselves were no big deal-- I wouldn't have considered them a workout. For some reason though after the last one (pull ups... lets talk about how successful that was... PAH), I got so dizzy. I refused to admit that I might faint after such nonsense activity so when the lady said "are you feeling okay, you look very pale..." I was more insulted at her ballsiness to comment on my poor pigmentation. I insisted I was totally fine and she left to make a photo copy of my measurements for me. Bless her. I woke up to far too many strangers standing over me and I heard someone say "Get the defibrillator!!!" I meekly said "don't defibrilate me." Oh it was a grand scene. This is how my life goes. I guess diligent hydration should be higher on my priority list. Whatever. After all that, the assessment was really useless, I didn't get a new lifting routine out of it and I was insanely embarassed. All in a day.
Regardless-- I am enjoying the gym and that is a statement. Praise God for that one.