When I had my first migraine of the year, the headache lingered for a few days, as they often do. Andy had suggested some coca tea to help sooth the headache. I wasn't sure about the tea, in as much as tea contains caffeine, which may or may not cause migraines, so I declined.

At communal dinner this week, Crystal and Nick showed Kris, Andy, Beth and me pictures from their Christmas trip to Peru, Ecuador and the Galapagos. At one point, she expressed how much she really liked the coca tea in Ecuador. She explained how the tea dilates blood vessels, usually stopping headaches.

Having spent the whole day with a headache, I was willing to try some coca tea tonight. Andy stopped by and made the three of tea.

Here's hoping it destroys the headache. I'd like to sleep well tonight.

Kyle and Emily often take pictures of themselves with entertaining expressions. The pictures of their being goofy crack me up. I love them.

Probably helps that they're both beautiful people.

I've been wishing for the courage to not only taking photos of myself with goofy expressions, but also post them. Funny how posting artistic photos is easy, but entertaining photos isn't. I guess some traits run in the family.

I'm going to try to be more bold as part of my new year's resolution to live deliberately. One of 26 resolutions, I forget which number this one is.

Okay, aside from the fact that this would be the perfect lead in to April's website-of-the-month new year's resolution/goal I have, I don't see how this helps me be more organized. Well, okay, other than, maybe, help me send out my wedding thank you cards. You know, the ones that are three and a half years over due at this point?

But, thank you cards on your person? At all times? I mean, if that doesn't scream "Put this items into your backpack!" I don't know what would.

Except I don't want to carry around a card on my person at all times. Have you ever done this? I have, and it ruins the cards. The corners become bent. The edges of the card soften. The card begins to look like a battered condom package that has carted around in some teenager's wallet for three years, because you JUST NEVER KNOW.

Yeah, another one I'm not doing. I'm back to my 20 minutes of intense work, followed by another before and after photo session of my everything has a place, everything compartmentalized, the good stuff within reach organizations today.

Back in sixth grade, we had to do presentations about South and Latin American countries. The presentations were to be fairly elaborate: each pair of students presenting on one country would have a six foot table, from which they were expected to dress up in locally culturally appropriate garb, and present the highlights of the country's unique culture.

At that time, I was fascinated about Costa Rica, and incredibly excited about the assignment. I was one of the very first people to sign up, without any hesitation.

At the end of the day, I went back to the sign up sheet to see if anyone had signed up with me, finding my classmate Kimberly Looft was my partner. Kimberly was one of the cool kids, so hey, this was great!

When I went over to talk to her, I overheard her saying to someone else, "I signed up with Kitty. I'm going to get an A!"

I don't know if I walked away, or continued to walk up to talk to her, but I do remember becoming very annoyed at Kimberly.

I kept the annoyance throughout the project. Instead of leading the project development, I followed. What do you want done? I'd do the minimum effort needed for the task athand. If she wants an A, I thought, she'll earn it.

The only serious effort I put into the project was to research (before the Intarweb™, people!) and prepare local, mid-millenium, interesting foods. I made a strange corn tortilla-like pancake, and an interestingly tasty bitter chocolate drink (this, when it wasn't uncommon for me to eat two pounds of chocolate in one sitting).

The food may have been the only thing that saved our grade, as our table was disappointingly empty, as I didn't decorate it. Especially compared to the Mexico table next to us, which had flags and music, and food and maps and colors colors colors.

We earned a B on the project, which affected my overall grade of an A not at all. I don't know if it adversely affected Kimberly's grade.

Today's workout at Velocity Sports made me feel like Kimberly.

The workout was:

16 runs
100 pullups
16 runs
200 pushups
16 runs
300 situps
16 runs
400 squats

This workout was done with a partner. Each activity could be divided in any way the partners wanted, 50/50, 60/40, etc.

When the workout was described, Kris immediately called out, "I'm partnering with Breanne!" We all laughed. I figured I'd partner with someone else, but Kris surprised me and asked if I would be his partner. "Keep it in the family!" he says.

So, we started out. Sixteen runs, 400m each, no problem. 100 pullups? Uh, okay. I did 10, Kris did 10. I did 10, Kris did 10. I was doing my pullups assisted, with a band. Kris did pullups for real. A real man.

I barely squeaked out my 50 total.

Sixteen runs, I did my eight, though more slowly than Kris did his eight.

Two hundred pushups. That's 100 each, if we go 50/50. Oooooookaaaaaaay.... 10 for me. 20 for Kris. Oh, yeah? 20 for me, 20 for Kris. I tried upping my numbers from 20, but it just wasn't happening. I dropped back down to 15, then 13, then 12. Kris stayed strong, letting us split at about 47/53.

Sixteen runs, with Kris' fitness kicking in. He did nine, and I did eight, before I realized he said, "meet you down there," and not "mumble you down there."

Whoops.

300 situps? 150 situps for me? No problem. I started with 20, to which Kris answered with 30. Oh yeah? I did 35, and Kris answered with 35 back. We were flying through this exercise.

For the first 100.

Fatigue set in and we started slowing. Around 160 I was feeling Monday's abs workout. Around 220, I was back down to 15 situps, not stopping even though I was really slowing down. I wanted to give Kris as much rest as I could, which was easy (just keep going) and hard (just keep going) at the same time.

When I stood up to run my eight laps, nausea rolled over me and I almost sat back down. Kris must have sensed my wooziness (yes, a real word), as he ran 10 of the laps, for my 6. The knot in my knee didn't help.

Neither did the hamstrings, which were strung tighter than a bow string.

Kris and I threw down the gauntlet on the squats, being the last partner sets, and determined to jump up to finish second. 30 squats for me, 30 squats for Kris, 30 squats for me, 40 squats for Kris. Down. Up. Down. Up. Keeping form but going fast, 35 squats for me, 40 squats for Kris, 30 squats for me, 50 squats for Kris. 35 squats for me, more for Kris. We cranked them out, finishing the workout only 3 minutes late, and second overall (not that it was a contest or anything, but the workout was supposed to be done as fast as possible without losing form).

My legs hurt. My arms hurt. My stomach hurts. My head is starting to hurt. I have a train ride and a 45 minute walk home left to do before I can rest.

Maybe that walk will make up for my Kimberly moment earlier.

On the drive to the workout this morning, Kris and I were a good ways behind another car in the car pool lane. We were chatting away, having a nice morning together on our way to the gym, talking about something or other of no importance.

As we came off the 85 N to 101 N ramp, the car in front of us suddenly veered to the left! Kris' reactions were quick as he let up on the gas, started for the brakes and reached to pull the car to the left, all to avoid the accident happening less than 50 yards in front of us, the veering car behind a large truck.

As we watched, the car lurched back to the middle of the lane and continued at the same speed.

What the? Kris and I were puzzled.

Until we realized the car had violently swerved to avoid a pothole in the road.

One that could be seen for more than the 50 yards we were behind the car. We were a little flabbergasted, but made light of the crazy potholes on the freeway, the ones that JUMP! out at cars, tackling them when the driver is least cautious.

Another mile or so up the freeway, a car merged from the 3rd lane into the 2nd lane, next to the carpool lane. We were still in the carpool lane, still behind the car that barely dodged the jumping pothole. Suddenly the car swerved again! This time to miss the car merging from the third lane into the second lane beside him.

Because, you know, cars are often more than a car width wide. You know.

We chuckled again, then watched in amazement as the car pulled left on its own, then swerved back into the middle of the lane, narrowly avoiding the truck two car widths away from it, merging into the third lane.

Kris turned to me, after giving the driver a little (okay a lot) more room, and commented, "Huh, the car pulls left."