Here’s what I like to do late at night: drink a glass of wine, and sit, wrapped in my kimono, feet propped up on the footstool, lap full of computer and Munky cat, and do a little window shopping on Modcloth and Ebay. I never buy anything anymore – I’m getting better at taking care of my finances – but I love to look for things. I check out all the new dresses and shoes on Modcloth and dream of being a size 8 again (back when I thought I was fat, isn’t that hilarious?), then I go over to Ebay and look up things like Czechoslovakian tea tins, West German Christmas ornaments, and porcelain from Occupied Japan. I love to collect things from places that no longer exist.

My favorite place that no longer exists is the 1893 Columbian Exhibition, and I have a decent handful of keepsakes from that particular of the world’s fairs. I have a shoehorn, and a token, and two ruby glass tumblers inscribed to two different women. My favorite thing from Chicago that year, though, is a genuine cabinet card from the fair that features the Ferris Wheel. That was the world’s first Ferris Wheel, you know. It was a marvel, and a terror, and now it’s a bit of a mystery, because it was buried after the fair ended, and now no one remembers exactly where it is. I like the cabinet card most because it reminds me what it means to truly love and believe in someone. Not just to love the person, or the idea of the person, but to believe that they know what they’re doing, and should not only be trusted, but admired for their work.

George Washington Gale Ferris, Jr. invented the Ferris wheel, even though everyone told him he should abandon the idea. Up until it spun into motion successfully for the first time, the prevailing thought was that the wheel would cast free of its base and roll away, squashing bystanders and flinging passengers to their deaths. Nevertheless, when the wheel came to life for the first time, Ferris’ wife stepped into the first car. Proving her faith in his work was that important to her. My idea of love that works, that lasts, is buried in her action that day. I want to feel that fiercely about someone, and to have them feel the same way back.

I got a mani pedi today, and my nails are painted black. I love it. I was looking for a color that would make me feel even more like a badass at the gym, and this is going to be epic. This last week has been a really good one for me at Iron Tribe. At the end of last week, I got a PR on my deadlift. My previous record was 105 lbs, but I went up to 135 lbs for my 3 rep max on Thursday. I’m pretty confident that if we’d been doing a 1 rep max, I could have hit 150 lbs. I’m really looking forward to hitting a 200 lb deadlift, whenever that might be.

The other thing I just accomplished at the gym was on Monday, when I got my first double under…and then my second through tenth!!! For those of you who aren’t quite sure what that is, it’s when you’re jumping rope, and instead of the rope going under your feet once while you’re in the air on a jump, you rotate your wrist really fast and get the rope under your feet two times. I’ve been struggling to try to get a double under for six months now, and then we had a really intense workout on Monday and I got my first one by accident, almost. I was so surprised that I stopped where I was (in a timed workout, with a room full of people), and yelled “I GOT ONE!!!!!” Everyone started laughing, the coaches came over to give me high fives, and a bunch of people shared their stories about their first double unders with me after class. I felt a little better knowing that I wasn’t the only person who’d struggled for so long just to get one stinkin’ jump!

I found out tonight that my ex started a blog for his photography, and that there are a couple of pictures of me on there. You can’t tell that it’s me – he only used the artsy ones – and I don’t mind. He takes beautiful photos. But it makes me sad, because I feel like he must still be sad. I hope not. But what can I do? Life must go on. We can’t stop living because other people need things that we can’t give them. We can only be our best, and hope that they share our understanding that life cannot stand still. I hate knowing that there’s someone out there that has to dislike me. That’s my problem, though. I hope disliking me helps him feel better, and get stronger, and find the real person he’s supposed to be with someday soon.