Day by day.

I'm sitting here, in the lovely home of my new Hungarian in-laws, looking out the window and thinking about how warm it must be back home in San Diego. Ok, so I'm feeling sorry for myself, I get it. I'm trying to look at this new adventure for exactly what it is, and then guess who takes over?! That's right, my jerky ego. For those who can't relate much to that term, it's the awesome little voice in my head that keeps telling me how San Diego, and the good 'ole US of A, is really the only place that makes sense. I know that's not true in reality, which means when I'm exhausted enough to have perspective. It's just different. Not good different or bad different, just not MY cup of tea at the moment.

I find myself getting pissed off at Peter (the new husband) for being so comfortable here. I feel like I'm living his life. We go from bar to bar, then band practice, to the airport (he's a pilot), and back to the parent's house. What has eluded me thus far, is how to make a life here that's MINE. Back in California I was more than happy being distracted by a construction company, a dramatic business partner (who albeit was incredible entertaining), my family and awesome five year old niece, and the illusion that I was happy. I can't say that I was miserable, but I was certainly distracted. I never had to explore a hobby, because I simply never had the time to care about one. I was either working, going to school, spending money on meaningless material things, like my 5.7L sports car, or going on dates 5+ time a week (which is clearly the best choice given the aforementioned options).

Sitting with yourself is difficult. I mean, seriously difficult. You have to face all the crap that you've so conveniently covered up for years, and then try and make sense of it all. Oh, and I'm also super hormonal (which is always a go-to excuse when you're pregnant). No thank you, I'd rather be going on dates. Unfortunately, that's not really an option here, not to mention the fact that I'm six months pregnant and married (which I hear is a pretty serious commitment). I'm being sarcastic for those of you that just gasped in horror. So what's the alternative? Yep, jumping in head first over the cliff, HOPING you'll hit something hard enough on the way down to put you out of your misery.

So what's the first order of business? Accepting an invitation from my new mother-in-law to go shopping...even though I'd feel much more comfortable watching illegally downloaded versions of the Bachelor or Teen Mom 2. Don't judge me.