existential dilemmas

2012!

2012-01-19T11:23:00.001-07:00

So, I decided this year was the year to send out a holiday card. I've been thinking about this for a couple of years now (inspired by my friend Anne who sent one a few years back), but just never got around to it. But this is the year that I am totally embracing my life as a fabulous singleton with an amazing life. Growing up in a culture that revolves around families (and rightly so, I think), I always hoped I'd be married with babies by this point in my life. That's not to say that I thought I would be (I'm what I like to call a late bloomer). But hoped. Such is not the case (and thankfully so, given the person I was thinking of marrying at one point in time). That said, I am just tired of feeling like there are certain things I can't do until I'm married. Not because anyone has said as much, just because I believed as much. But this is the year that all changes. And what better way to start it off than by sending my own holiday card with my own "year in review" update.

So, here's the card (if you didn't get one and you think you should have...I'm sorry, send me your address for next year) and a copy of my "year in review" letter. Exciting things are on the horizon for 2012 (so exciting that I'm kind of dying to see how it all turns out and to share bits and pieces as I can) and with any luck, next year's letter will make all of you insanely jealous. Because that's the point of these letters, right, to make you all wish you were me? Wait, it's not? I'm so confused. In any case, enjoy!

Happy 2012 New Year's

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View the entire collection of cards.

The Letter:

This year has been full of blessings, trials, adventures, and lots of flying from one end of the country to the other. I have been loving my life in New York (where I’ve been working at [a big bank--trying to keep my work life and personal life separate here on the interwebs] since I finished my MBA in the spring of 2010) and this year it has definitely started to feel like home and I’ve really been enjoying all the city has to offer with the help of my wonderful NYC friends.

Some highlights from the year include having lots of visits from many of you (some of whom I hosted in my itty-bitty Upper West Side apartment), lots of travel to see family (specifically my seven—soon to be nine!—nieces and nephews) and friends, spending hours riding my bike along the Hudson and throughout Central Park, visiting museums, going to the theater, playing soccer, lots of time at the beach, eating out (there are so many great restaurants here!), dating adventures (even when the dates aren’t so great, they still make for fantastic stories), weekend trips to Rhode Island, Boston, and D.C., and teaching the 5-year-olds at church (this is a highlight now, but six months ago?…let’s just say we had a bit of a rough start).

While this year has definitely had its ups and downs (yes, there have been downs…but who writes about that stuff in a note like this?), I feel very blessed for my family and friends, my faith, my health, and a job I absolutely love. And I hope you can all say the same!

Wishing you all the best in 2012,

Chloe

therapy

2011-12-27T19:14:00.000-07:00

So, I have issues. I mean, we all have issues. Some of you might have read that and thought, "I don't have any issues." Well, guess what, that's your issue. Anyway, back to me.

I have issues. I have issues from parents who had an unhappy marriage. I have issues from losing my mom when I was 18. I have issues from struggling with my weight for as long as I can remember. I have issues from not dating very much when I was younger. I have issues from being engaged to someone who wasn't very nice. I have issues from being a 30-something and single in a religion of marriages. I have issues from feeling like I live below my potential. And so on and so forth.

So, I started going to therapy back when I was in grad school. Maybe a little later in life than I should have, but you know, better late than never. But even then, I wasn't really ready to deal with some of my issues. And so, recently, I decided to start again. In fact, I wanted to a while ago, but therapy in New York when not a student is not really in my budget. Enter Columbia Teacher's College and a fantastic center where I can go to a grad student for an amount of money I can afford and, well, to therapy I went.

I started going about two months ago and, let me just tell you, I LOVE THERAPY. Seriously. And I love my therapist. I know this might sound ridiculous to some of you, but there is just something about having someone outside of your life to listen to your thoughts and push back when you're thinking crazy s@$#. Or, as is often my case, being too hard on yourself. And there's just something about knowing that I have issues and then dealing with them that makes me feel so very sane.

Anyway, I felt like I needed to share this on the blog because it just didn't feel right not to. Now, how much more I will share about is still TBD because, well, I get pretty dang personal in therapy. (Yeah, I know, you're shocked that there are things I don't share on the blog.) For now, just know that I talk about all the crap I mentioned and then some. It's a good time.

And just one more thing I want to say about this right now. I know that there are those of you reading this who are probably thinking, "Well, yeah, I have issues, but I don't think I need to talk to a therapist." And to you I would say you are absolutely right. You don't need to. Especially if you feel like your life is where you want it to be (and I'm not saying that in a snarky way). This is not me trying to tell everyone that they should be in therapy. This is me saying that it helps me a lot.

internet malfunction

2011-12-26T23:28:00.000-07:00

For those of you who subscribe to my blog on Google Reader, that last blip of a post that disappeared was not supposed to be posted until the cards went out (silly Shutterfly), so...enjoy the sneak preview.

Love,
Chloe

soccer moms (and dads)

2011-12-16T22:13:00.000-07:00

I met the girls for dinner tonight all dolled up in my soccer uniform (I'm not going to lie...I look pretty hot). Rachel asked how my ankle was. Maria made a comment about my dedication after I commented that it still wasn't 100%. And that was the end of the soccer discussion. I took off a little early so I could make it to my 10 pm semi-finals game and subsequently played the entire thing (we had no female subs) and we lost by 1 point (4-5) to the team that damaged my ankle five weeks ago (who beat us 7-0 that time). Probably not a bad thing considering there's no way we would have all lasted for the finals which were to be played right after.

Moving on. As I was riding the subway home I was thinking about Maria's comment. I am dedicated to soccer. But I'm also dedicated to just about everything I commit to. I have been that way from a very young age. Sure, sometimes I have to cancel plans, but if I've made a commitment to something (or more importantly someone) and I know that someone is counting on me, you better believe I'm going to follow through.

It's funny that a comment about soccer is what made me think about this because, really, I think soccer is probably where this commitment started. I had a super mom who had us all in soccer and swimming from the time we could walk/swim (I think I started soccer at age 3 and swimming at 4). Every Saturday we went from game to game to game (she coached most of our teams at various points in time) or meet to meet to meet. All summer long we got up early for swim practice. All fall we spent at least one afternoon a week at soccer practice. For a kid, this was a big commitment.

There were times I really didn't want to play. I was tired. I didn't want to get up early. I just wanted to watch cartoons like other kids I knew. I didn't want to be picked up early from sleepovers. I didn't want to miss out on afternoon play dates. But my mom always reminded me that I had made a commitment to the team and that I needed to be there. And that has stuck with me.

Tonight, I really was not in the mood to play at all. I was exhausted having gotten very little sleep the past two nights...on the tails of a red eye and trying to get over a cold. I haven't played (or exercised at all because of my lame ankle) in five weeks. I wanted to just hang out with my friends after dinner. But if I didn't go to the game, we would have been a woman short and that would have severely handicapped my team. Sure, it's just a recreational soccer league. There are no trophies or prizes at the end. No fans are counting on you to win. There are no endorsement deals waiting to be signed. It's just a fun game. But I made a commitment to my team and I was not going to let them down.

I say all this not to toot my own horn, but to share with you (specifically you soccer moms and dads who spend so much time chauffeuring your kids to games and practices and stressing over how they play) that what you're doing is so important. Your willingness to support your children in their commitments and help them see the value of keeping those commitments will make a big difference in their lives. At least it has in mine and I love that I have become someone people can count on. And that's what you're doing for your kids. Your not just helping them play soccer and have fun. You are helping them become reliable, committed adults. (Okay, maybe I'm overstating, but you know, I feel strongly about this). So, pat yourselves on the back and when you don't want to get out of bed on Saturday mornings to get your kid to soccer, just remind yourself how much they are learning in the process.

Now if someone would just teach me how to make fewer commitments... :)

And now I must sleep so I can keep the rest of the commitments I've made this weekend.

because it was so overdue

2011-12-13T22:02:00.001-07:00

One of the hard things about moving to a new city is finding your new "people" and by "people" I mean dentist, hair stylist,...okay, well, that's all I mean. I love my dentist and my salon in AZ and so, even though I've lived here for well over a year now, I still wait for trips "home" to get those things taken care of. Normally, I'm out there every 3-4 months, so this works out well.

This time, though, it had been since June and while my teeth are fine with a cleaning every six months, my hair is not so fine waiting for a little bleachy-bleach. And so, with about three inches of regrowth, it was time. It was a short trip, so guess what didn't happen. Form over function. Or in this case, pretty hair over healthy teeth. That's how I roll.

Sadly, I don't have a really good before...but here's a during and an after. I'm very happy.

all decked out for christmas

2011-12-04T17:39:00.000-07:00

With an impending holiday party, I finally got my crap together this week and decorated my apartment. And I must say, it's pretty cute. And by "my apartment" I really mean "my entertainment center" because I can't store anymore than what will fit there. So here are a some pics (mainly for my sis-in-law who wanted to see what it looks like decorated).

(the clutter on my counter is due to a party that was just about to start)

My itty bitty Christmas tree purchased at Walmart last year. Please note the "tree skirt" - I got creative with a placemat. And the nativity...well, it might actually be an ornament I purchased in Berlin. And there's even an angel on top (another ornament).

Isn't it cute? I actually bought it because I broke it in the store (nothing a little superglue couldn't fix). Now I'm really glad I did.

And a shot from the other angle.

Okay, so this wasn't a decoration, but I figured I might as well make the baked brie I was serving look nice and festive, too.

Not pictured: the gold bow I added to my eucalyptus wreath (I only have room for one wreath--and that's the one on the door) and a really cute silk arrangement created by my favorite florist, Sydne. It's out, but it needs a little sprucing. Just have to find my glue gun... Yes, even in a itty bitty apartment it's still possible to lose things.

thanksgiving

2011-12-03T16:29:00.000-07:00

Now that I covered the Thanksgiving drama, here are the highlights: my cute niece and nephew.

Somebody really doesn't like Thanksgiving dinner options.

Somebody also learned how to ride a bike in about 10 minutes...and that's what he wanted to do all day long.

Of course little miss didn't want to be left out...she's still on training wheels of course.

Family ride time

Apparently somebody has been dying to try this jumping thing at the mall. Luckily I got to be there to witness it.

Clearly they hated it. ;)

Flying high!

Little Miss loves her grandpa. Lots of cuddling going on.

closure.

2011-11-30T20:04:00.004-07:00

Remember a couple of months ago, when I told you about the PhD. I think some of you questioned my judgement when I posted about it. And to be honest, I did as well and actually took down the posts. But today, I've changed my mind and the posts are back up. So if you want the full story, you'll also want to read this and this.

And why do I bring all of this up again? Because this past weekend, when I was enjoying a lovely time with my family, I got a text. Rather than tell you about it, I'm just going to post it word for word (no editing) because really, there's no way to properly describe this. Oh, but before you read it, you need to know that the PhD's name is actually Wayne.

From a random New York number:

Hi Chloe. i found ur # in
my husband Wayne's
phone, apparently he
is/was cheating. Thought u
should know. So sorry... :(

Yeah. Read it one more time in case you are thinking you're eyes deceived you. They didn't. Or read it one more time imagining you're me. Talk about a text I wasn't expecting to EVER receive in my life.

So, now I know why he was so flakey. And why he never made plans. And why, before I ever even thought about it, he told me that he'd prefer not to be Facebook friends (incidentally, I didn't think anything about this because I'm not necessarily all about being FB friends with just anyone I date.) Oh, and most importantly, that he's a total sleaze bag.

Because I know you're all dying to know what I did in response to this text (or I would be if I were you), I'm just going to tell you. I texted his wife back and told her that I was so sorry and that I had no idea he was married. She was super nice (to me) and said she wasn't upset or mad at me, that he was to blame. The marriage is over, but she though that all of the women ("and I mean ALL") involved needed to know what a jerk he was in case he contacted us again.

Bottom line, there are some horrible people in the world. Some of them are men. And for some reason, I have a penchant for dating them...although this is by far the worst of them. So, let's just say I've decided to take a little break from dating.

In other news, my weekend in Indiana with the fam was super fun!

injured in the city

2011-11-14T17:22:00.001-07:00

Someday my feet will look like this again...I hope.

Just when everything was perfect...tragedy strikes.

Okay, a little dramatic, but it feels a little dramatic in this city.

Friday night, I had my soccer game. We were getting our trash kicked. Total blowout. There were about two minutes left in the game. I was exhausted because we had no female subs. The team we were playing was just a lot better than us...and had total attitude about it. Nothing like cocky winners to make a frustrating game even more painful. So there we were, two minutes left in the game, the other team had the ball by our goal again and I was not going to let it get past me. So, I charged the ball and the girl dribbling the ball, and we collided. And POP went my ankle. Not like a little ankle roll, but a serious pop.

I'm not really one to give into physical pain. My tolerance is high and I like to be "tough". So, I just "walked it off" then hobbled to the bar with my teammates and hung out for a couple of hours. I still had my shin guards and socks on...I was too nervous to take them off. When we got done at the bar, I could barely walk, so I took a cab. What you need to know is that I almost never take cabs. Like, really. Especially not from 23rd Street all the way to my apartment on the upper Upper West Side. And then I got home and took off my shin guards and my socks and this is what I saw.

So, I text my sister (the doctor) this picture and she told me I needed x-rays. And that is where the real adventure began. I realized that since I left home at the ripe young age of 17, I've always had either the health center at my university or my sister (the doctor) to take care of me. And when I've needed urgent care or some other emergency something, I've had a car and I've known exactly where to go.

In this city of 8 million people and no car, what once seemed like no big deal was a very big deal. With all of these hospitals and emergency rooms and no car, the whole idea of getting x-rays was just not super exciting. I waited until Saturday morning and headed to the urgent care that looked the least scary from my online search and that took my insurance and that had x-rays onsite. Of course, it was all the way down on 13th Street and the subway was not going to work, so a $20 cab ride later, I was there only to find out their x-ray machine was down.

That said, I stayed (I couldn't stomach another cab ride or internet search). The doctor came and looked at it. After poking and prodding she concluded that it was just a sprain. Then she wrapped it up and I was on my way. Thank goodness for good insurance and no co-pay because there was another $20 cab ride to get home.

And then I got home, only to realize that I had no food in my house. So, it was order in time. That is the one thing that is easier here than anywhere I've ever lived. Every place delivers and it's amazing. I missed my soccer game on Saturday (I really thought I might have been able to play before I got home Friday night). And since then I've basically been on my couch for three days running. There's no running out to get something because "running out" requires a lot of walking, as opposed to just getting in a car. And I still hate paying for cabs, so I'm stuck.

And the overall swelling has caught up with the ankle - I call it elephant foot.

Thankfully I've had some nice visitors come to see me (in all my injured glory) and Felicity has been keeping me company, so it could be worse. I missed my soccer game, the Primary program at church (I was so excited to be up there with my kidlets) and a fun dinner party, but that's it. Oh, and laundry didn't happen because there's no way I could carry my 20 lbs bad of clothes two blocks to the laundromat. So, kind of crappy and it also made me think about just how difficult (and expensive) it would be to be disabled in this city. And just how lucky I am that this is just and injury and not a way of life for me. And maybe it made me miss suburbia just a little bit, and my car, and my family.

perspective

2011-11-10T21:08:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, when I was still in college, I watched some of my girlfriends from my freshmen year get married from a distance. I would hear about their upcoming nuptials and be slightly (read: seriously) jealous. That's all I wanted.

As the years have gone on and I have remained single, I have become more comfortable with my single status. Not so comfortable that I don't want to get married at some point when the right guy comes along (and when I'm the right girl...I maybe have some work to do...maybe). But today was one of those days when I realized just how lucky I am that I didn't end up married to the wrong guy. My life may not be perfect, and I may have to make all of these decisions on my own, and I may not have a partner in crime and foolishness, but I am happy. And I am the one who is in control of that happiness. And I have marketable skills that allow me to take care of myself.

To those of you stay-at-home-moms out there reading this, please do not mistake what I am saying. I am not saying that I think you should not be stay-at-home-moms. Nor am I saying that the work you are doing in your homes is not the most important work you could be doing right now. What I am saying is that I would rather be single than unhappily married, especially if I felt like I was trapped.

This may seem like a random post, but I recently learned that some of these girls from my freshmen year (lovely, amazing, women) who married rather young and devoted themselves to their husbands and children are now divorced and my heart goes out to them. I can't imagine what a trial that must be.

It's not that I think they should have made different choices. I think the best we can do is make good decisions based on the information we have at that moment. I am just very sad for them. And feeling very blessed tonight, as I sit in my itty-bitty-but-oh-so-cute apartment in New York City, thinking about the fact that I love my job and that I can pay my bills and that I'm not worried about 1/100th of the things I would guess these women are worrying about. I would also guess that these women wouldn't trade places with me for anything because that would mean not having their oh-so-adorable children. At least I hope that's how they feel.

The bottom-line: I'm thankful that my life is my life and my trials are my trials. And isn't that the best thing that any of us can hope for?

urban girl squad

2011-11-09T20:05:00.000-07:00

There's this pretty cool social networking group in NYC that one of my coworkers introduced me to called Urban Girl Squad. She sent out an invite for an event called Cupcakes and Champagne to a few of us at work. So, tonight, five of us headed headed over to this event and it was really fun. This little group does all kinds of other fun things, too...like rifle shooting lessons (yes, I will be signing up for that one next time it's available)!

Just one more reason to love New York and love my job and my coworkers!

not-quite-bachelorette-weekend

2011-11-09T19:55:00.000-07:00

I think this might have been the last time the three of us were together before the NQBW.

So, back when the lovely Sarah asked me to be her Maid of Honor, a plan was created. Kelly and I wanted to do something for her as a sort of bachelorette party, but with Sarah in Utah...and Utah being not the most exciting place for a bachelorette weekend...and Kelly and me in NYC, we had to figure out what to do. So we listed the help of Sarah's soon-to-be husband. Mike was a total doll about the whole thing. He helped us figure it out.

The plan: surprise Sarah with a weekend in New York. We coordinated dates. We figured out what Mike would tell Sarah and how we were going to keep it a surprise. It was PERFECT!

And then Sarah and Mike eloped a week before the bachelorette weekend. And then the plan was complicated by Mike's work and an unplanned trip to California. And the surprise was no longer a surprise. That said, the weekend was still amazing...and probably much more enjoyable for Sarah since she was able to pack for NYC weather (which did not cooperate) as opposed to CA weather.

Our darling shirts from Amy Tangerine !

So, even though the surprise was no longer a surprise, the weekend was so fun! We shopped. We ate. We lounged. We laughed. We went to a show (Follies...we do not recommend it). We ate some more. We slept. We watched Bridesmaids. We got pedicures. We brunched. We froze a little in the crazy weather. It had been way too long since the three of us had been together. Way. Too. Long. No boyfriends. No husbands. Just the girls. Not something any of us wants to have all the time, but it was fun for a weekend (especially for the single girl--me).

And pedicures!!!

I'm so happy for Sarah and Mike and am so glad she married someone who will help us plan surprise weekends, even if the plan didn't work out exactly as planned! And I can't wait to party it up on New Year's for their not-quite-wedding-reception.

gratitude

2011-11-04T07:22:00.001-06:00

For the past three (four?) years I've participated in an attitude of gratitude challenge. Although I don't know that I ever made it all the way through the whole month of November. So, this year...I'm not even going to try. What I am going to do, in honor of my 34th birthday today, is post 34 things for which I am grateful! Here goes (I should probably throw some pics into this post, but it's not happening tonight)...

I am grateful for my fantastic family - seriously, I feel so lucky that I actually like my family and feel like I would have chosen them even if they weren't my family.
I am grateful for my friends. I have amazing friends who are always there when I need them and love me for who I am.
I am grateful for my job. I have an amazing job and I love the people with whom I work. I had no idea that I could love a job as much as I love this one (or a manager), but I really do.
I am grateful for the chance to live in New York City. It is seriously such an amazing opportunity. I was headed home from outside the city tonight after a meeting and was walking through Grand Central Station and just thought...holy crap, this is my life.
I am grateful for water in all its forms; ocean, lake, river, tap, bottled. Water is amazing.
I am grateful for my wanderlust. It has helped me have so many amazing experiences and hopefully will continue to do so throughout the rest of my life.
I am grateful for a mother that had us play sports as a kid including soccer and swimming specifically.
I am grateful for both of my soccer teams and the great new friends I'm making through playing on those teams.
I am grateful for my love of baking (even if my waistline isn't). It's such a fun thing for me and I love sharing with my friends.
I'm grateful for my very (extremely, unfairly) good health. I may not always (ever?) love how my body looks, but I sure am lucky when it comes to how healthy I am.
I'm grateful for video chat that makes it 150 times easier to live so far away from my favorite munchkins.
I'm grateful for books. I love books and love to read and don't know what I'd do without them.
I'm grateful to live in a country founded on freedom. Even when I don't agree with how people use that freedom, I am glad we all have it.
I'm grateful for flowers. I love them so much! They just make life brighter!
I'm grateful for the sunshine. I mean, really, do I need to say anything more.
On that note, I'm grateful for sunsets and sunrises. I just don't think anything looks as pretty as it does in that kind of sunlight.
I'm thankful for the relationships I've had throughout my life and everything I've learned from each one of them.
I'm grateful for forgiveness. Both extending it to others, but most especially when others have extended it to me.
I'm grateful for a mother who taught me charity...even if I don't always practice it.
I'm grateful for my education. I know I'm so lucky to have had parents who supported me through college, and then the opportunity to go to beauty school (yes, I'm counting that) and then the scholarships that got me through business school.
I'm grateful for my standardized-test-taking abilities. Seriously, anyone who's taking the GMAT, you know why this is something to be grateful for...and probably the main reason I got said scholarship (because we all know it wasn't my undergrad GPA).
I'm grateful for yellow cake from a box with chocolate frosting from a tub. I mean, I do love me some Amy's pink cake, but I will forever be a yellow cake/chocolate frosting kind o' girl.
I'm grateful for a teacher (Mrs. Hoffaker) that let me read only Babysitters' Club books in the sixth grade to fulfill her over-the-top extracurricular reading requirement when she wouldn't let anyone else read series books because I had such a hard time reading and those were the only books I seemed able to get through. And now I love to read!
I am grateful for books. I love books. So. Much.
I am grateful for my Kindle that lets me carry hundreds of books with me at a time.
I am thankful for music. I think my life would be so different if there was no music. I can't even really imagine it. Both listening to it and singing.
I am grateful for darling nieces and nephews who are absolutely hilarious and make me laugh all the time.
I am grateful for photographs. How sad would life be without the ability to capture memories in still frames and relive those moments every time I look at a picture? Or without being able to look at pictures of my mom when sometimes I struggle to remember just what she looked like.
I am thankful for my ability to sleep. I think about this almost every night as I lie down on my bed knowing I will be asleep relatively quickly.
I'm grateful for the opportunities I have had to travel and see parts of the world. Hopefully, I'll be expanding those horizons even farther in the very near future, but for now, I'm quite content with the places I've been.
I'm grateful to live in a time and place where I can choose exactly what I want to do for a living and there are no constraints based on my age or gender...only my abilities. That is amazing.
I'm grateful for air transportation. Seriously, is anything quite so amazing as being able to get from JFK to PHX in a matter of hours? (okay, or around the globe, but I haven't been going around the globe recently)
I'm grateful for my faith. It's what keeps me going and gives me hope through the really tough times.
And finally, I'm grateful to have made it through one more year feeling like my life is still headed in the right direction. Is there anything better than looking back on a year and thinking, "Wow, I really did that?" I don't think so.

Happy Birthday to me! Thanks to my friends and fam for all of the well wishes!

ETA: This should have gone up on my birthday (the published date), but it just didn't happen. I was too busy having fun with my friends!

my friday night lights

2011-10-30T19:10:00.000-06:00

No, I'm not talking about football, but I am talking about this lighted field on Friday nights and my new favorite obsession: soccer! And this is where I get to play every Friday night, with the Empire State Building glowing in the background. I also get to play on Saturday mornings. And Tuesday nights at practice. Yeah. Like I said. It's a new obsession.

This week there were only three of us who could make it on Tuesday, but we still practiced anyway. And it was kind of nice because it was Amy and me who are both at about the same skill level and Oliver who is better than both of us and super nice (my whole team is really nice). I told him I really wanted to work on my ball handling skills. I am an excellent defender, but not so great when it comes to offense. So we played a lot of "monkey in the middle" (helps with with control and passing), mid-air trapping exercises (self-explanatory), and controlled heading (as in heading the ball in a specific direction).

At the end of practice, I didn't really feel like I'd improved very much. And I was worse for the wear with a big, scraped up bruise on my shin (forgot my shin guards). And then Friday rolled around and, well, apparently practicing really does make a difference. It was AMAZING!

I still defended well (I love defense!), but I also helped on offense. In past games, I've only gotten the ball as a result of stealing it from the other team (and I haven't minded that at all...I have never wanted someone to pass the ball to me because I was so sure I would lose possession in 2.2 seconds). But this game, it was different. It probably helps that I play with a great group of guys who do not expect perfection, but between practice and a little coaching from my teammates, something just clicked. Not only was able to help out in some integral plays, I headed the ball off a corner kick and nearly made it in the goal (or at least it headed in that direction :). It was so fun!

By the end of the game, I was beat. Playing offense and defense requires a little more running than just defense, and we were down a girl, so there were no subs for Amy and me and you have to have two girls on the field at all times. But it was so worth it. Oh, and we won 7-1. Kind of fantastic, right?

a weekend in nyc in photos

2011-10-25T21:53:00.000-06:00

Don't worry. These photos all have people in them. This is not one of those posts (I have plenty). I just thought it's been way too long since I've posted any photos of myself...and my family is so adorable (even the old peeps). I figured since my sis-in-law had posted all of these on FB, I could post them here. Hope that's true...

Waiting in the taxi line after connecting in the JetBlue terminal at JFK. And yes, I basically flew in my PJs. And yes, this is me after a red eye and without any makeup on. Hot, right?

Day one in Times Square. After naps...but still tired.

A little harbor cruise. My brother was enjoying it, I swear.

Empire State Building. For those wondering, I prefer Top of the Rock for its park views, but you do kind of have to do this one.

Our night tour. Isn't my nephew the cutest?!

Shelley might be holding that balloon because she won "best tourist" of our night tour. That's our tour guide on the left. She was so fun!

Central Park on Sunday. My brother was kind of over the walking at this point.

Monday morning on Liberty Island. You can see the new World Trade Center in the background. I can only imagine what that view was like when the Twin Towers were still standing.

The end. See, that wasn't so painful!

life in tilt-shift

2011-10-23T16:54:00.002-06:00

It's been a busy couple of weeks. And in the middle of it all, things got a little crazy. The only way I can describe it is to say that I felt like I was living my life through a tilt-shift lens. I was still going to work. I was still playing soccer. I was still teaching Primary. I was still hosting houseguests, and hanging out with friends, and seeing movies and Broadway shows. I was still living my life, but almost everything was a blur, pushed into the background and this one thing*, this one issue, was the only thing in focus.

As I've thought back on similar moments in my life, moments when really hard or bad or sad things have happened, it's always the same. I always get lost in a tilt-shift view. I think it's probably true for most people. I feel like my life will never be back in balanced focus. How could it be when something so difficult has turned my world on end? (A little dramatic, yes...but that's how it feels.) I know nothing will make it go away. There's no photoshop for life, but slowly, the focus shifts shifts given enough time and what was the only thing in focus becomes just a few pixels in my current life photograph.

And that's where I am today. The focus has shifted and I can see everything again and life is good. Sure, there is this new thing that is part of my photo, but it's just one thing in a photograph capturing my whole life. Not the only thing. Just one of many. And now that I have this analogy for these moments, I'm hoping I will learn to adjust the focus a little faster every time, or at least remember that, eventually, the focus will change, because for me there's nothing worse than being in the depths of a tilt-shift moment without hope of balance returning.

*I know most of the time I am ridiculously open on the blog...but this is one of those times I just can't be. But I still need to write about it because writing is my catharsis. I hope you'll understand.

new york in a long weekend

2011-10-11T20:43:00.002-06:00

Living in NYC, you kind of forget that most people aren't used to walking so much. Or so fast. And that people don't readily understand distances when they are walking them in regular shoes to get somewhere and not for exercise purposes alone. And so, in an effort to ensure that my brother, sis-in-law, and nephew saw all they could possibly see, I may have overestimated how much we could do/see/experience in three and a half days.

Of all the things I wanted them to see and they wanted to see the only things we missed were Tom's Restaurant (aka the Seinfeld diner), the City of New York Museum (which actually isn't that amazing...except there's a movie they show that I really like), and walking across the Brooklyn Bridge. Now, how much we got to take in the other things...well, that's another story. We kind of hurried through a lot of stuff. And the bus tours did not cooperate (I will be getting some money back when I call tomorrow).

I'll post some of the more fun stories a little later, but I wanted to just get the details down so I could have a record of what we did/saw/experienced...so you can now stop reading this post if you haven't already.

Friday:

They arrived on the red-eye from PHX, I was on the one from SLC. Taxi home from the airport. Apartment Tetris in order to fit both queen and twin air mattresses in my living room.

Power nap so we can make it through the day. Out the door at 11.

Pick up tickets for tours, etc, at Times Square. Grab Shake Shack to go and eat while basically power walking to the pier (only like a mile...nbd). We're the last people they let on the boat which was a Christmas miracle. Fabulous harbor tour.

1:30 get off the boat and head back to Penn Station to get the subway downtown for our 3:00 reservation time for the 9/11 Memorial which was amazing. We also stop at St. Paul's cathedral. After the memorial, we pop over to Wall Street and get to take in the Occupy Wall Street crazies in person (video to come). Oh, and we get a pretzel from a street vendor. The fam likes the pretzel.

We then head down to Battery Park to catch the tour bus that never came! So subway it is...up to 59th Street and then a walk across town...taking in the Plaza and all of the fabulousness that is Central Park. Dinner at Carnegie Deli. This has been on my list for a while, so I am excited!

And day one ends with The Lion King. It is really good. Also something I haven't done before, so I am very excited to get to see it...even though it might not have been top of my list. It should have been. It really was so good.

After the show, we head over to Junior's so the fam can have real NY cheesecake. The wait is way too long, so we get it to go and head back to my apartment to enjoy cheesecake in our PJs while watching 30 Rock (this is what we will do every night when we get home). Shelley also discovers black and white cookies at this point. She's a fan, as are the two men.

Day one ends with me feeling very successful. Granted, my fam is pretty easy going, but still such a relief that they enjoy day one as much (if not more) than I hope they will. And my brother makes it really fun for all of us because his head is full of interesting information about all kinds of stuff.

Saturday:

We sleep in a little. Josh and I go grab real New York bagels for breakfast. Finally get out the door (I'm not very good at sleeping in) and take the bus tour (after waiting a little for the bus to finally come). As we wait for the bus, we chat up the City Sights guy there. He's very friendly and quite entertaining...giving my family the impression that New York is full of nice people.

The bus tour starts and it's pretty good. Not a huge fan of the tour guide, but whatevs. I've already kind of exhausted everyone, we they are happy to sit on the bus. We see lots of fun sights (including the street where I lived during my internship--Cornelia St).

We get off at Battery Park to do Liberty and Ellis Islands. The line is ridiculous. So back on the bus tour we go (with a better tour guide). We get off at Rockefeller Center and take a look around. Then head down to the Empire State Building. We do this additional little Empire State Building Experience thing that was super corny, but kind of cool.

From there we hit Grand Central so they can see it and then head over to Times Square on the shuttle to get on the night tour stopping at Shake Shack for dinner (yes, again) before getting in line. This line goes pretty fast and we have this awesome (if slightly crazy and sexually frustrated) tour guide. She is seriously awesome. I don't think seeing the city at night will ever stop amazing me.

We get back to Times Square and do a little shopping at the Hershey's store and the M&Ms store. My brother makes an Ms mix that might be the best I've ever had (no offense, Alisa). And then it's home and time for bed (after 30 Rock and some pizza and garlic rolls from Famiglia next door).

Sunday:

We get up and go to church. Brad keeps commenting what a different life this is. It's fun to have them at church with me. After church we head home to change. Brad really wants a nap, but it's not happening. We head out.

I really want to go to Good Enough to Eat, but the line is really long. So we head down to Sarabeth's and, in reality, probably wait just as long. I'm starting to stress out because we are burning daylight and we still have museums and the park. We wait quite a long time, but everyone loves the food so it works out.

After lunch, we hit the American Museum of Natural History (aka the "Night at the Museum" museum--I haven't seen the movies, but my nephew has informed me that it's very disappointing to realize the movie takes so many creative liberties). The museum itself does not disappoint. And I have a lot of fun seeing things I've never seen, having only been there once. Brad gets distracted by all of the "shiny" objects (information about dinosaurs, etc) so we have to pull him along.

After the museum, we head into the park; Belvedere Castle, The Lake, Bethesda Fountain, and Poets' Walk were the highlights (and about all the walking they wanted to do). We head to SE corner to get the uptown bus tour, only to discover that there's a parade on Fifth Ave so much to Brad's disappointment, there is more walking across the park. As luck would have it, the Wafels and Dinges cart is at Sixth Ave, so I let them rest and introduce them to my favorite waffles ever!

After the rest, we head to Columbus Circle to catch the bus. I can't find the bus stop, so we head to the next one. And wait. And wait. And wait. My anxiety is starting to kick in and I call City Sights to see what the deal is. We watch five busses from another tour company go by. Brad just wants to sit down. I don't want to miss the tour because there are some cool things on it. And we've already paid for it. Finally, a City Sights bus comes. And there's no room on it. Another call. More waiting. Shelley then calls...and Shelley can be scary when she wants to be. Even scarier than me. (I know, right?)

So, finally a bus comes and...it's our favorite tour guide. We take the tour and it's great and then we head back to my apartment. Everyone is beat, so we rest for a minute and then head to Big Daddy's for dinner, which is a perfect end to our day. And then we watch some 30 Rock.

Monday:
I get everyone out of bed early so we can make it downtown and have time to visit the Statue of Liberty (which I've never done) and Ellis Island. Then we make our way up to Union Square and I introduce everyone to Max Brenner. No time to eat, though, so Shelley just picks up a couple of fun souvenirs for her mom. And then it's off to H&M. My family does not know the glory that is H&M. And now they do. Josh, Brad, and Shelley all find stuff they liked. And Shell finds some great stuff for my two nieces who stayed at home.

And the final stop on the tour de New York? Doughnut Plant and it does not disappoint. Then back to my apartment. A little more 30 Rock and off we go to the airport, via public transit, you know, so they get the tourist and non-tourist experience.

It was so fun having them here and I still miss them. They are now, with the two girls, in Hawaii and I'm super jealous I'm not there, but I have to pay the bills somehow.

Pictures to come...

To be continued...must sleep now.

dear you...inspired by my slightly damaged ego

2011-10-03T17:49:00.000-06:00

I have a feeling not all girls feel the same way I do, but whatever. I'll own this. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on what my goal is), I think the majority of men who read my blog are married, so this information won't be useful. Except to me because sometimes public venting (you know, to my 50 some anonymous and not so anonymous readers) is the way to go. And by useful, I don't necessarily mean that I'm educating you in the ways of women, but this will give you insight into just how crazy we can be. And by "we" I mean "I". So here goes...

Dear guy friend,

I don't care how established we might seem as platonic friends, unless I initiate the conversation I probably don't want to talk to you about my single girlfriends so that you can ask them out. It's not that I don't want my single girlfriends to date. I do. And it's not that I don't want you to date them. Assuming we're friends, I probably think you're a good guy worth dating. It's that, inside my head what I hear is not, "Hey, is your friend dating someone?" What I hear is, "In case there was any doubt, I'm not at all interested in you in that way."

Don't worry. I'll answer you. And I'll pretend like it's not a big deal. And I'll get over it. And in reality, I'm probably not interested in you that way. But it will hurt my feelings and/or ego for a little bit. So maybe, instead of asking me if my friend is dating someone...just ask her yourself. It might be a bit of a risk for you, but it will be flattering for her and it will keep me from getting my feelings hurt. And, if you need her contact information...well, that's what Facebook is for. You see, I want you to be successful. I want you to date. I want you to find love. Just not at my expense.

Love,
Chloe

Okay, so now that I write it down, I realize just how pathetic this sounds. But, you know, I've never claimed otherwise.

my family is about to meet my city

2011-09-30T00:20:00.009-06:00

A week from right now, I will be returning from Utah on the JetBlue redeye and I will be meeting my older brother, sister-in-law, and 17-year-old nephew in the JetBlue terminal (my favorite terminal at JFK, btw) at which point we will take a cab back to my apartment, drop off our luggage and set off on a fabulous New York tourist adventure.

I am very excited about this. I can't wait to share my city with them. However, while thinking about them visiting (I don't think my brother or nephew have ever been east of Denver), I've also started to worry about what they will think of this place that I have completely fallen in love with.

Because of the fam's impending visit, I have a heightened awareness of just how crazy/dirty/crowded/smelly this city is. I was discussing this with a coworker today and he totally gets it. For instance, last week when I was heading to the gym early one morning, there was a guy passed out on the stoop in front of the building next to mine. He was still there when I returned. I wondered to myself if he might actually be dead so I stopped and watched for a moment to make sure I saw him breathe. When I left for work an hour or so later, he was finally gone. I didn't think much of it. Just another day in New York. But then I think about my nephew who has spent his entire life in very suburban Arizona and, well, I think it's going to be interesting.

And yesterday, as I was rushing down the stairs to the subway platform I realized there were no trains right there, so I slowed my pace a little. And then I smelled it. Well, him. And I went ahead and started rushing again just to get upwind from the stench and ensure I wasn't in the same subway car. I've never smelled death, but I'm pretty sure that's what rotting flesh smells like. Oh, and let's not forget about the crazies on the subway who talk/sing/shout to/at no one in particular about who knows what (veganism, racism, Jesus...).

There are things that you just get used to. Homeless people sleeping in church doorways. Gum spots all over sidewalks. Watching your step for dog poo (at least I like to believe it's dog poo). Rats on the subway tracks--or the sidewalk on trash day. The smell of urine.

I know those of you who have never been here or lived here are probably wondering why anyone ever chooses to live here, but until you do, you just can't understand. It just becomes part of you. I just hope that my family will be able to see what I love about it, because guaranteed they are going to experience all of the craziness because that's Murphy's law.

On top of all of that, I have been thinking about all the helpful tips I want to share with them. Like the fact that walking in New York is like driving anywhere else. For any of those of you who have never been to New York, but may someday come, here's a little tip. If you just follow the rules of driving when you're walking, you will be fine. If you're going slower, stay to the left. Don't just stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Watch where you are walking or you'll likely end up running into someone or something. When walking in a group, think about it like you're caravanning in cars. Single file is ideal. Two by two is the max. If you want to stop and take a picture, look up at the Empire State Building, or anything else, pull over to the side of where ever you are. And for the love of everyone who is trying to get to work on time, subway turnstiles should be treated like toll plazas...your ticket should be out and ready to go so you don't stop traffic. The one exception is jaywalking. Everyone jaywalks...just watch for bikes in addition to cars.

I seriously can't wait for them to come. And really, I think it will be great. At least I hope it will be. In some ways, I feel like I'm in a relationship with New York and I'm finally letting part of my family meet my city and it's exciting and terrifying all at the same time. I don't need them to love my city, but I do need them to see why I do.

a resolution - week 4 (aka perfection)

2011-09-29T21:22:00.000-06:00

Yep. I finally had a perfect week. I didn't eat out once. I feel pretty good about it. And that's all I really have to say about that. Oh, except that I also discovered that making salad dressing is awesome. And store bought salad mixes just don't last long enough for me. So, I have started buying heads of romaine and green and red leaf lettuce and making my own mixes made infinitely easier by my salad spinner. Everyone should own one of those.

randomness (aka jobs, baking, and spending habits)

2011-09-27T20:05:00.000-06:00

I believe I've mentioned this before, but when I first started working as an esthetician I had four jobs. Yes. Four. I only had 25 hours a week at the salon and I was building my clientele, so I had to figure out how to pay the bills. Which meant I was working 25 hours a week at the salon, 10-15 hours a week at Williams-Sonoma, 1 day a week as an esthetician in a chiropractic office in Globe, AZ, and whatever nights I was needed to stock at Bath & Body Works. (Obviously, I don't have pride issues when it comes to working. A job is a job...especially when you need money.)

It was insane. But I loved it. It was just so fun and chaotic. And the discounts were amazing! I was getting all of my personal care needs met for pennies at the salon. I enjoyed the benefits of the B&BW discounts for all the bridal shower gifts I was purchasing at that point in my life, and oh how I LOVED the Williams-Sonoma and Pottery Barn discounts.

When I finally had enough hours and enough clients to support myself with my main job at the salon, I quit B&BW and the chiropractic office, but I just couldn't give up the Williams-Sonoma discount, so I continued to work a total 50-70 hours a week (depending on the season) to keep the discount. And the extra income from Williams-Sonoma was also my spending money for it. It was rare that I ever took home money from that job, but it was totally worth it. Eventually, I transfered to Pottery Barn for a little variety, but the discount remained.

The problem with this is that I got used to being able to purchase whatever I wanted from those two stores. And now I think that I should still be able to do that. But I really can't. That said, I recently saw this amazing tartlet pan when I was window shopping. For those of you who know me, I kind of love making tarts. I like eating them, too. But I love making them more. So, I bought the pan. And for about a month it just sat in a box. Staring at me. Making me feeling guilty for purchasing something so frivolous. Something I really didn't need. Something I hadn't even used yet.

Yeah...the hot pads are from Williams-Sonoma, too...but they were purchased during my discount days. :)

And then I finally busted it out and I'll tell you what...the guilt is gone. This pan is my new favorite. What could be better than bite sized tarts or quiches? I've discovered a new favorite recipe for pancetta, leek and goat cheese tartlets. And on Sunday I made my favorite tart in tartlet form. Both have been a total hit.

Such deliciousness.

So, basically what I'm saying is that frivolous, impulse buys are awesome. Or maybe what I'm really saying is that sometimes it's worth investing in good equipment for the hobbies that you love. In any case, if you ever want to try one of these, just invite me to a potluck and I'll be happy to bake them for you!

teaching the kidlets

2011-09-26T20:58:00.000-06:00

It's been a while since I've written anything about my 4-5 year olds at church. But yesterday is worth recording. There is one little boy in the class who just has a lot of energy. And sometimes his energy tries my patience.

I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but I only really like children I'm related to. And, of course, I love those children. But I'm talking basics. Like, I don't just not love kids I'm not related to...I don't even like them. (I bet you are thinking about how much you wish I was your child's teacher at church right now.) There are some exceptions (and all of you out there that I know who have children, just go ahead and assume that your kids are the exception). And when I say I don't like, I don't mean I dislike them. I'm just indifferent.

Anyway, I'm only telling you all of this so you'll appreciate what I'm going to tell you next.

When I got asked to teach the four year olds at church, I was a little worried about this problem I have. (I do think it's a problem...I'm not completely without feeling.) You know, you hear stories about people being given callings (that's what we Mormons call the responsibilities we're asked to fulfill at church) and just having an outpouring of love for the people they are serving. But I wasn't buying it.

Wouldn't it be funny if I just ended this post right now and said, "And guess what, I still don't like these kids"? But would I really be writing about this if that was the end of the story? Let's hope not.

So, it's been about four or five months now (I think) and last week was ROUGH. We thought we were making progress, but it was not the best day ever. And I left church once again feeling like the mean teacher who just disciplines the kids because they cannot behave.

And then this week was a dream. There's one little boy in particular who's just been a little more difficult than the others. He's a good kid, he just has A LOT of energy. As I was sitting in Sharing Time with the kids, he was being so good. I mean, like better than any other kid in the room. He was participating and singing the songs and I might have teared up just a little bit. And I suddenly just loved this little boy. And he was good the rest of the day. Not just better than usual, but really good.

Of course, I attributed this to the fact that he recently started school and so has a little more structure and discipline during the day because it couldn't be that something had needed to change chez moi. You know where this is going...

Something had changed in me. And I think all of the kids in the class could feel that. I just loved them. I'm not sure how it happened (I've been praying it would) or why, but I'm so glad it did. I was excited to see them. I was excited to teach them. And we had an amazing day.

It's funny just how much kids really can teach us if we are willing to learn from them. And what I learned yesterday was just how much love matters and what a difference it makes when we try to view others the way God views them. Yeah. It's basic stuff. But sometimes I'm a little slow and/or forgetful. Thankfully I've got a bunch of four year olds to keep me honest.

a resolution - week 3 (aka epic fail)

2011-09-21T20:10:00.000-06:00

Yep. This week was bad. I already knew I'd be going to Thai food (which was delicious and totally worth it), but then I got a text from an old and dear friend who was going to be in town for the week and it was a situation where going to brunch just made sense. In hindsight, I probably could have invited her and her girlfriend over to my apartment, but I had a lot going on that day, so cooking brunch just didn't occur to me.

On top of that, I had a couple of other slip ups and basically through in the towel for this week. It hasn't been awful, but it has added up to going about $20 over budget. However, tomorrow starts a new week and I have no eating out plans for the rest of the month and I am determined to finish strong.

This brings me to my "all or nothing" mentality which has proven extremely challenging throughout my life. I'm just not good and not beating myself up for "failing" and when I do that, well, it's pretty much a downward spiral from there. I know there will be an end. In this case, I'm working on one week time frames, so the "failure" had an end in sight...but I couldn't just correct it during the week.

On top of eating out, I also ate a bunch of crap. What I haven't mentioned on the blog is that I'm also really trying to watch what I eat in an effort to lose weight/feel better/look better. And that went out the door this week, too. The one thing I did great last week was I worked out six days (which is my goal). This week has not been so good (I missed Monday and Tuesday, but did go for a nice long run tonight).

Anyway, all of this is to say that I struggle. A lot. And while I definitely feel a little sense of "failure" as I look back on this week, I know that next week will be better and I'm trying to cut myself a little slack. I have two more weeks of this and I can totally do it...and then it will be time to set some new (more realistic) goals.

P.S. I realize that this post is pretty boring, but I'm really tired...but I also didn't want to skip it or put it off since I want this record for myself.

hope and other things

2011-09-16T22:52:00.008-06:00

On Monday, two days after the PhD emailed me, I was seriously stressed out about the whole thing. Why was he back? What did it mean? What would it be like to see him again? Etc, etc, etc.

So, I called my sister, texted Kelly, emailed Sarah, and talked to Jenna during our morning run. Yes. That's what girls do.

All were helpful. All were supportive. But Sarah sent me an email that perfectly described why all of this was causing me so much angst. Here is what she said:

Here are my thoughts:
We date. We date stupid people. We date not-so-stupid people. We date people we like. We date people we're not sure if we like. We try. We try over and over. And it's all because we have hope. If we stopped trying, we'd feel hopeless. Or at least I would. So, we keep trying and trying, hoping that one sticks. Because you never know.

And that perfectly captures why I think I was willing to walk down this path. Hope. Hope that he would not be the flake he was before. Hope that I would be better able to show that I liked him (not one of my talents). Hope that he would be just as fun as he was before. Hope that he'd suddenly want to join my church and we'd live happily ever after. (Okay, that last one was a stretch, but you get the point, right?)

Despite what happened, and my normal propensity to find fault with myself, I don't feel bad about how I responded. I'm not kicking myself for being willing to go to dinner with him. Or being gracious when maybe the safer, less vulnerable, and definitely less hopeful thing to do would have been to not be. I'd rather know that I tried, that I put myself out there even if the result is that I get hurt than end up alone because I wasn't willing to take a risk.

All of that said, I'm no masochist nor am I some shrinking violet (before I wrote that, I had written "wilting flower" which I knew wasn't right, but I could not remember the actual phrase). And I definitely (finally) have enough confidence and self-respect to realize that I shouldn't settle for someone who doesn't value what I have to offer and treat me well.

And so it is over. And the way I know it's over is because I did email him and ended it. I would have just copy and pasted the email right here, but I believe in the full purge as soon as the purge can happen. So all emails have been deleted. And if I could figure out how to get my iPhone to not remember his email address, I would do that, too.

I appreciate all of the comments and I do agree that walking away with no response would have been completely justified and appropriate...but I wanted to say what I had to say, what I wish I'd said last November had I had the opportunity. And so I did. Basically, I said that I decided it wasn't a good idea for us to get together. I told him that back in November, when he disappeared with no warning or explanation, I'd been pretty hurt and confused and that, while I did really like him, given the history, his current behavior wasn't going to work for me.

I may have failed to mention that not only did he cancel by email three hours before we were supposed to meet, but even before that he hadn't responded when I'd told him where I wanted to meet (he had asked) and I actually had to send an email to see if we were still on for last night (which I did at 9:30 am) and he still didn't email me until 3:30.

Sadly, I'm not going to get my answer...but I kind of think Zach might have been right in his comments. And to be honest, now I don't really care.

So, another one bites the dust. Again. But I still have hope.

ETA: To those of you who wondered if this guy reads my blog, the answer is no. I mean I suppose it's possible, but we aren't Facebook friends, the blog doesn't come up if you google my name. He could possibly have found my twitter account and my blog from that, but...I doubt it. There are lots of other boy stories I have that I would not share on here because either a) they could easily find my blog because we are FB friends or b) someone I know might know them and...well, I try not to be overly dumb about these things.

and without further ado

2011-09-16T07:07:00.002-06:00

Oh, wait. There is further ado.

He canceled. By email. Three hours before we were supposed to meet.

No explanation. Just wanted to know if we could reschedule for next week.

I haven't responded yet. Please feel free to opine on what you think I should do/say.

a restaurant resolution - week two

2011-09-14T20:49:00.001-06:00

Before I jump into this post, the update on the PhD is that I will be seeing him tomorrow. And then there will be a real update.

Back to the resolution.

I am learning a lot about myself. A. Lot. About how I spend money. About how much I don't pay attention to how much things cost. About how I am not really good with delayed gratification. I'm also learning that if I challenge myself to do something, it's way better than just "trying to do better" which tends to be my M.O. when it comes to money.

Here's the thing. I make pretty good money. I should not have to live paycheck to paycheck. And yet I have been (and will continue to do so) because I am trying to recover from years of not delaying any gratification. So, it has been really fun (yeah, I know, weird) to actually feel like I have some control. Like I can do this. Like there might be a light at the end of this tunnel that includes short term savings. (I'm not completely financially inept. I do have long term savings.)

I know, you thought this was just about eating out. But it's not, apparently. I'm as surprised as anyone. I have started reading price tags and make choices based on cost. Tonight, in fact, I was at the Whole Foods (before you start judging, just know that in NYC, Whole Foods is not really more expensive than almost any other grocery store...at least not the things I purchase) and I really wanted strawberries, but they were really expensive and I only had a certain amount of money to spend to stay under budget and so I had to make some choices. And thus, I went for the cheaper apples. I know that might sound lame, but it was a big deal for me.

I guess what I'm learning is that I can't have everything I want all the time.

That said, I did get takeout one night because I didn't have food or time to go to the grocery store. But I was very careful about what I ordered. I got a roasted chicken for $10 that served as three meals. I actually feel fine about that choice. What I don't feel fine about was my Saturday night pop into the grocery store where I made some impulse grocery purchases; ready to eat items that cost way more than they were worth.

So, this week I stayed under budget, but only by a couple of dollars which included a $20 train ticket to the beach and a $13 movie. Yes...I know...the movies need to go at some point. Baby steps. I also need to start buying gum at Costco (if only I had a Costco card). I have a gum habit that's seriously as expensive as a smoking habit. It's like a pack a day. Serious issue.

Next week. No movie. No beach. One meal out because I got invited to a dinner with people I don't normally hang out with and I can't completely end my social life. But I am giving myself a budget for that meal out and it's an authentic Thai place in Queens, so it's not expensive. (Yes, justifying.)

things i will never understand

2011-09-11T16:24:00.003-06:00

Men.

That's about it.

Oh, and terrorism. But this post is not about 9/11. (That post will be coming shortly--I live in New York, and it's the 10th anniversary, so of course I'll be posting about it. It may be tomorrow though--I'll pre-date it so it shows for today--because I'm still kind of processing all the emotions I've felt today. And it also happens to be my sister's birthday, so I need to call her which will likely take up a good chunk of my evening. Kind of a crappy day for a birthday, right?)

Back to men. Maybe some male out there reading this can help me understand. Although it's doubtful. Many have tried. I think I must just have some sort of mental block.

That said, I can't say that I was completely surprised that what I'm about to tell you happened. I've seen it happen in my friends' lives often enough. But this particular situation was so weird, I just didn't expect it.

I'm not sure if I told the blogosphere about this (so if I did, please forgive the repetition--I don't think I did).

Last July or August (I can't remember which and I don't have a record of it because I typically purge emails/text messages/etc post-dating someone), I met a boy through Match.com. He was really fun and very smart (getting his PhD in applied mathematics) and interesting, about 6'1" and pretty dang attractive. We met for the first time at this delicious Tibetan restaurant in Murray Hill and hit it off and continued to see each other for quite some time.

He was my first New York kiss. And it was a perfect first New York kiss. And the best first kiss I've had since moving here. We were walking along the Hudson on a lovely summer evening after having dinner at Pier I. We stopped and sat on one of the benches overlooking the river and the lights of New Jersey. And we talked for a while. And then he kissed me. And it was perfect.

Fast forward about three months (I am not that girl who remembers milestones, in case it wasn't obvious) and we're at lunch. He taught at a college not far from my office in TriBeCa...which meant I got to see him frequently during the week. We'd been dating for a while (as mentioned) and he decided we needed to have a sort of DTR.

Let me pause at this moment to explain how it is that I manage to often end up dating guys who want to have a DTR--because it does often happen. And it's not necessarily that I choose to date weird, insecure guys. It's that I often date non-Mormon guys (because, for whatever reason, they are the guys who want to date me--if I could just find a nice Mormon guy who wanted to date me...). And because they are not Mormon, it is really hard for me to actually imagine a future with them. (I really do want to marry a Mormon guy.) So, because I can't imagine a future...I am somewhat aloof. I mean, I have fun and enjoy their company and like them (I'm not using them or anything), I just don't see it going anywhere. You know the old adage, "He who cares less has the power." Well, in my case it's a she and it's me and so I am the one with all the confidence and security of not being too "into it"...which leads to men who want answers. At least, that's my take on it.

And back to the story. So, he begins this pseudo-DTR. I say "pseudo" because it wasn't very direct. Or maybe it was and I'm just clueless (entirely possible...I got hit on last week at Whole Foods and didn't ever realize what had happened until the next day, when I told someone about it and she kindly informed me that the guy was hitting on me and I, without realizing it, had totally shot him down). Anyway, he asked me how I was feeling about things (aka "us"), if I could see dating him exclusively in the near future, etc. My response was basically that I thought when we were both at a point that we felt like we wanted to be exclusive, it would just happen.

Is it so wrong to think that a relationship can happen without defining it? And he didn't force me to decide on anything or actually specifically ask me if I wanted to date him exclusively, so...I didn't offer to do so. Maybe I should have, but I think you all know me well enough to know that passive (or passive aggressive) behavior is not likely to illicit an active response from me.

All in all, the conversation was fine. And then we changed subjects. NBD. We made tentative plans to do something a couple (few?) days later. During the next couple of days, we exchanged a few texts. I tried to solidify plans (I like times for planning purposes). And then...

Radio silence.

I never heard from him again. The end.

Or so I thought.

And then yesterday, while I was lying on the beach, enjoying my oh-so-fabulous life (I really am enjoying it these days), he emailed me. At first I thought maybe he didn't know who he was emailing (I used an alias email address for online dating, so it doesn't have my name in it), but then I realized he had replied to one of our old email chains when he emailed me, so he knew it was me.

And do you want to know what it said? Of course you do. Prepare to be totally dumbfounded (or maybe not):

hey,
how are you? what have you been up to?

And that was it. Are you kidding me? A year later and that's what the PhD emails me? If I were a different person, I might thing he just wanted to get a piece...but I am me, and I know he knows that getting a piece is not going to happen, so it can't be that. If it was that, I'd get it. I wouldn't like it, but I'd get it.

Here's the thing. I really do like this guy and I wasn't heartbroken when he fell off the face of the earth, just confused. Was it totally rude and selfish? Well, yes but, just the same, I don't hate him. And he was lots of fun and very interesting. And of course, I would love some sort of explanation. So I emailed him back (about four hours ago):

Wow. I was definitely not expecting to hear from you. I thought you must have died or something. ;) ...

I answered his questions about how I was doing and what I'd been up to and then asked how he was. And I received a response about 10 minutes later:

I'm still around, just chilling. let's get together for dinner this week.

So, because I don't think a boy taking me to dinner breaks my resolution, I am sure I will take him up on this. Oh, and because I really want some sort of explanation (and I'm sure you do, as well, right? The things I do for my readers... :) ). And he will be buying me dinner. I mean, that's only fair, right? I think I'm being pretty gracious about the whole thing.

Maybe, once I get some sort of answer, I'll understand men a little better, but I doubt it. At least I'll get a free meal out of it, and that's always nice.

a restaurant resolution - week one

2011-09-07T18:12:00.001-06:00

So, week one without restaurants ended yesterday and it was pretty dang successful.

I have to confess that I did go out to lunch once...because I had to for work. Not the kind of "had to" like all of my coworkers were going out and I didn't want to be left out, but "had to" like my manager asked me to take my new coworker to lunch on her first day because my manager was out of town and it was on my manager. Which, I think, means I can still call it a perfect week. I didn't lose money and I got a very healthy salad and nothing else totally keeping the "spirit" of the resolution.

I can't tell you the number of times, though, that I thought, "Oh, I'll just grab something at..." before remembering that, oh, no I wouldn't. And once I got past the first two days sans Diet Coke, I wasn't moody or grumpy or anything like it. In fact, I've felt pretty amazing all week!

And the dollar verdict: $20 under budget. And my budget is tight. And I've never not gone over my budget...by a lot (was there even a point in having a budget?). I would count this a success. I feel very good about myself.

This coming week, there are no "eating out" obligations but I am volunteering at the Mets game on Friday and I get to go for free and who goes to baseball games with out eating at the ballpark??? I'm just going to have to deal with it because there is no excuse...meaning I have to pack my lunch and dinner to work. I will have to buy a water bottle because I won't be allowed in with my own. But a $4 bottle of water (are you throwing up a little in your mouth right now) is a lot better than a $4 bottle of water, $5 for a hot dog (if I'm lucky) and whatever treat I would normally get.

I don't think this is going to be my new MO, but I do think that it is going to help me be much more cognizant of how I spend money and the things I think are worth the spend and the things I think aren't. This might make me a little less popular with my friends, but...I think they'll understand. They're all being very supportive right now. Hopefully it continues.

the bicycle

2011-09-07T17:52:00.000-06:00

One of the other things I did on Monday, besides laundry, was go on a 14 mile bike ride. My intention was just to ride up to the GWB, but then I got there and thought, "Why not make it around the entire north side of the island...so I just kept going. One of my favorite things about living in New York is the bridges, so I love that my bike lets me get so close to them (or at least this one) so quickly.

Ignore the fact that the Hudson is completely brown (apparently hurricanes can do that to rivers), but don't miss the American flag hanging on the far side. With the 10th anniversary of 9/11 coming up on Sunday, it just made my heart smile to see our lovely flag hanging there.

Isn't she lovely?

After I took these two pictures, I just kept riding...and riding...and it was lovely. So, in case you were wondering if I'm using my bike that required a big financial decision, the answer is yes. Totally worth it.

adventures in laundry

2011-09-05T12:59:00.002-06:00

So, with this whole "let's try and be more responsible with my money" thing, I decided to make another change. Since I moved to New York, I have not done my laundry (in the city) a single time. I mean, laundry has been done, but I've been taking it to the nice people right next door for wash and fold. Meaning they do it, not me. It's not the most expensive thing in the world and I had told myself that, with as much as I make hourly, spending my time sitting in a laundromat was not cost effective. (I like to trick my brain into thinking that my justifications are very sound and logical, but the truth is, the time I would be doing laundry is not time I'm "missing" work...so my logic is crap.)

Which brings us to today and me sitting in a laundromat for a little under two hours doing my laundry. And all it took was one time for me to realize that I should really be doing my own laundry. First of all, it's about half the cost of sending it out. Second of all, I can hang dry what needs to hang dry without paying an extra $2 per article (which, just so you know, I didn't do...I would just wait to wash those things until I was in Utah or Arizona or Indiana...). Third, it's some quality reading time. Fourth, my laundry smells good as opposed to smelling like the industrial laundry chemicals it is washed in I send it out. Fifth, I met some really nice people. And finally, because I was at the laundromat and there are places to conveniently fold my laundry, I actually folded it while I was there, so all I had to do was put it away when I got home.

One of my concerns was how crowded it would be and how long I'd have to wait for a machine, but apparently, my new workout regime is paying off in more ways than one since my new bedtime is usually before 10pm and I'm lucky if I can sleep past 7am, so no crowds. And my nice, new laundromat friend informed me that if I'm there early on Saturday, there's never a wait. So, looks like that will be part of my new routine. And not only am I saving money by doing it myself, I think I'll also be saving money by not having to replace certain things quite as often as I would given the wear and tear of industrial cleaning.

Look at me making fiscally responsible choices. And it only took me thirty some years to get here.

a resolution

2011-08-31T18:06:00.001-06:00

If you follow me on Twitter, you may know that I have been a little obsessed with food trucks lately...because they are amazing! Just around the corner from my new office is a food truck lot and every day there are three different trucks, usually two food and one treat. And I have been taking full advantage of the trucks. Just one more reason to love living in a big city. Here's a little look at the delicious treats:

Kimchi Taco

VanLeeuwen

Desi

Je and Jo

Rickshaw

And then, the other day, I realized that I was eating out breakfast (okay, it doesn't really count because I just buy a banana from the fruit guy by my building for $0.25, but I'm still eating out), lunch, and dinner. Almost every day. Almost every meal. Not only is this not the best idea for my waistline...it's also not the best idea for my bank account. I have a weekly budget and I was blowing it. Every. Week. And then this whole hurricane thing happened and I thought about food storage, and how I need to keep on top of it and rotating through the food...which would require me eating that food.

So, an idea was born and a resolution was made. For the month of September (well, really from yesterday until I fly to Utah the first week of October) I am not going to eat out. At all. (Although the fruit in the morning after my run I'm not counting because it's as cheap as the grocery store.)

I went grocery shopping Monday night, and even with shopping at Whole Foods and purchasing organic whenever possible...I was well under my weekly budget. I know I'm only on day two, but already I feel better and I'm less stressed about money. It might put a little bit of a wrench in my social life this month, but it also means I'll be a little more creative when it comes to time with friends.

I realize that this would not be a big deal for some of you...but until you've lived in New York as a singleton, I don't know that you can understand just how dependent you can become on restaurants for your survival (okay...maybe that's a little dramatic, but you get it is kind of dramatic). So, don't judge me or think that this will be easy. Just wish me luck. It's going to be...interesting. And at the end of the month, maybe I'll have a new plan. One that's a little less extreme, but that helps me stay on track, both physically and financially. Maybe?

Oh, and I've also cut out Diet Coke. Now do you feel concerned for my survival?

emergency preparedness (aka i can't live without technology)

2011-08-30T18:27:00.000-06:00

As mentioned in the previous post...I was in Rhode Island when Hurricane (or Tropical Storm, as she became by the time she actually landed on RI) Irene hit. We knew she was coming and, technically, we were in a mandatory evacuation zone. We chose not to evacuate. The good news is this ended up being fine. Not really the point of my post, though.

Over the past few years (decade? few decades?) my church has been talking about emergency preparedness (ETA: it's actually been something like 75 years). But when an actual emergency is imminent, suddenly all this stuff that's just been words and theories becomes very real. Suddenly the crank flashlight/radio my grandma gave me for Christmas (the one that I kind of rolled my eyes at) became the best gift ever known to man. Especially when I realized that I had never purchased batteries for my Maglite and every store was out of D batteries (epic fail on the parts of Energizer and Duracell if you ask me).

And then there's the case of the iPhone. I had actually been thinking about this the other day, when I pulled up a map on my phone for the 20th time that day. What if the world was really ending? What if I actually needed a real map, you know, the kind on paper that does disappear when the power goes out and I couldn't recharge my cell phone?

And then, with Hurricane Irene, these what ifs became very real questions and they led to more questions. What am I going to do if I need money and can't pull it out of the bank because ATMs are no long operational? What if I need to call someone on a non-digital land line (do those even exist anymore?) and I can't because I don't know any phone numbers...well, almost. And what if I wasn't in Rhode Island with all of these people who are much better prepared than I am and I hadn't realized how much water I needed? Or food? Or realized that when power leaves, so does your water because electricity runs the pumps. And so on and so forth.

The point? I am completely and totally dependent on technology. I mean, I could survive (physically) without it, assuming I had a source of food and water, but that would be it. The world has automated and electrified so much of my life that I don't really have to "know" a lot of stuff I used to have to know...like how to get from point A to point B without Google Maps.

Now, this is not some sort of post about how I'm going to turn over a new leaf and be less reliant on technology. I'm not a crazy person. But maybe I will go purchase myself an atlas and maybe I'll write down important phone numbers on a piece of paper and put it in a ziplock back...and perhaps I'll even start saving putting some cash away for a rainy day (you know, the kind of rain that comes with hurricanes).

endorphins

2011-08-30T17:51:00.000-06:00

A couple of weeks ago, Jenna (you should visit her blog...she's hilarious) and I started running together in the mornings. What this means is that I am up every morning at 5:15 so I can get out the door and meet Jenna for our morning run. And by "run" I mean I run the 1.5 miles to meet her...then we walk and talk (sometimes we jog) for about 30 minutes, and then I run home.

Initially, the getting up in the morning thing was a little rough. And Jenna, bless her heart, does not have to get up nearly as early as I have to, and yet she does. But now, it's like my morning coffee (or Diet Coke, in my case). It wakes me up. It starts my day off exactly as a day should start...with a body pumped full of endorphins. And I get to work out all of my little issues (anxiety, stress, whatever the issue of the day might be) before I do anything else.

Jenna's in Utah this week. I'm super sad. But I'm determined to continue the exercising, because not only has it benefited me in all the ways I've listed, I have found that my weird mood swings have stabilized quite a bit. And I have fallen in love with exercise again. I mean, in LOVE. And it has become my go to medicine.

Case in point. Yesterday, I got back from a lovely trip to Rhode Island (same as last year with some new and different people, oh and a hurricane) and I was seriously depressed for a multiplicity of reasons. Like, lying on my bed, crying into my pillow depressed. Let's be honest, I was pretty tired, too. Anyway, I was going to just lie there crying, but then I had this lovely vision of a bike ride and off I went. And two loops around Central Park later, I was fine.

Now, I just need to not forget this. Somehow, when life gets busy and stressful and I need exercise the most, it's the first thing to go. I'm hoping between Jenna and playing on two soccer teams this fall that this will not happen. The question is, will she still be willing to meet me at the butt crack of dawn when the world is freezing and covered in snow/ice. (I'm thinking probably not, since she basically told me as much, but a girl can dream, right...?)

pancetta, leek, and goat cheese tartlets

2011-08-15T21:10:00.000-06:00

They taste even better than they look

Remember once upon a time when I used to cook a lot. Not sure what happened or when it happened, but I just kind of stopped...and then recently, the baking bug has bitten again. It started with cookies. And then the tartlet pan (total impulse buy) was just sitting in the box, unused, whispering to me from beside the couch where I was storing it. So, I got online and found a recipe for delicious little tartlets (mini quiches, if you will). And tonight, I baked. And I had people over to my apartment for the first time in a while. And it was lovely. And the tartlets? Amazing, if I may be so bold.

The recipe isn't mine, but I did improve the crust because, well, I've got some serious pastry skills (tart pastry anyway). So, without further ado, here's the recipe (as posted on epicurious--originally seen in Bon Appetit):

Crust
1 cup all purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
3 ounces chilled cream cheese, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Ice water to texture

Filling
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter
2 cups chopped leeks (white and pale green parts only; about 3 large)
1 teaspoon vegetable oil
4 ounces thinly sliced pancetta, chopped
2/3 cup half and half
2 large egg yolks
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 ounces soft fresh goat cheese, crumbled

Fresh parsley leaves (I didn't use the garnish)

For crust:

Blend flour and salt in processor 5 seconds. Add butter and cream cheese. Using on/off turns, blend until moist clumps form. Gather dough; shape into 6-inch-long log. Wrap and chill at least 1 hour and up to 1 day.
Cut log into 24 1/4-inch-thick rounds. Press 1 round into each cup of 2 nonstick 12-cup mini muffin pans; freeze 30 minutes.

having the right equipment is key

And what I did:

Put the flour, cream cheese, and butter in a bowl and place the bowl in the freezer for 10 minutes (assuming you started with cold cream cheese and butter--if not, freeze it longer).
Using a pastry cutter--this is imperative for keeping all the ingredients chilled which is what will give you the lovely, light, flakey crust you want--cut the butter and cream cheese into the flour until you have pea-sized balls of dough.
Slowly add ice-cold water (a tablespoon at a time) until the dough just comes together to form a ball.
If the dough feels at all greasy (like the butter has started to soften), refrigerate it for 5-20 minutes.
Roll the dough out to 1/4" thickness and cut circles (I use a cutter) large enough for whatever pan you are using (muffin tin, mini-muffin tin, tartlet pans), place the rounds in the pan and then freeze for 10-20 minutes.

Meanwhile, prepare filling: (No changes here--except the parsley garnish)

Preheat oven to 350°F. Melt butter in large skillet over medium heat. Add leeks and sauté 10 minutes; cool. Heat oil in small skillet over medium-high heat. Add pancetta; sauté until crisp, about 6 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer pancetta to paper towels. Whisk half and half and next 3 ingredients in medium bowl to blend. Mix in goat cheese, then leeks and pancetta.
Spoon filling into shells. Bake until filling is set and crust edges are golden, about 25-30 minutes. Cool in pans 5 minutes. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Cool, cover, and chill in pans. Rewarm uncovered in 350°F oven 12 minutes.)
Using small knife, cut around tartlets to loosen. Turn out tartlets and arrange on platter; top each with parsley leaf

falling in love with new york again

2011-08-07T17:20:00.002-06:00

In any relationship, there are ebbs and flows, highs and lows; at least in my world. It's true for my relationships with people and it's true for my relationships with places. And as I've mentioned before, it's especially true for New York.

Last weekend, I was in South Bend, Indian visiting Justin and Cherity and my darling niece and nephew (seriously, I've missed them so much). While I was there, enjoying the vast amounts of space and the benefits of a car, etc, I wondered what the hell I'm doing living in New York City. And, to be completely honest, I was not very excited to come back Sunday night.

And, as always happens, when I got back to the city I remembered why it is such a fun place to live. And then, on Tuesday, I bought a bicycle. I've been thinking about this for a while and just had to save up enough money to get it. I didn't get to ride it until Thursday, due to weather, but when I did...it was like a whole new world opened to me. Not only that, but I felt like I was 10 again, riding around without a care in the world. It was amazing (and slightly terrifying since you have to ride on the streets here).

Please appreciate that this is where I have to park my bike in my apartment...at the end of the hall by the front door with the wheel turned so I can exit and enter my apartment. Until you've lived here (or visited someone who does), you just can't understand the lack of space. It's awesome.

And then on Friday night, I rode my bike all the way down to Battery Park along the Hudson (it's about a six mile ride down) right at sunset. And just like that, I didn't just like living here, I was in love with this city all over again. Yes, there are sacrifices I make to live here...like being far away from my family and living in a shoebox that is double what my mortgage payment was in Arizona. It is crowded and expensive and dirty and stressful, but there is also no other place in the world like it. Central Park, and the rivers, and the subway, and the museums, and all of the restaurants, and my friends. I won't stay her forever, but I wouldn't trade this experience for anything.

dear runners in central park

2011-08-02T20:04:00.001-06:00

Dear runners in Central Park,

I have one word for you. Deodorant. Okay, maybe two more. Daily showers. Deodorant and daily showers. Is that really asking too much? Really? I don't think so. Most of you manage just fine. But today, oh today. The oderifficness (yes, it's not a word) of a few of you was mind blowing.

With many wishes for weaker olfactory receptors,
Chloe

a year later...

2011-07-24T23:21:00.001-06:00

As I get ready to finish my last week in my current rotation, I can't help but think about what an incredible year this has been. There are a lot of things I could talk about (and at some point likely will because I have learned so much this year), but as I said goodbye to Maria tonight (she's leaving for P-town to start law school), I can't help but think about just how amazing it is that one year after moving here I have such an incredible group of girlfriends.

In fact, just tonight, I was reminded again of when I met some of them last year during a weekend in Rhode Island (some I knew before that trip, but have gotten to know much better since). I had no idea at the time that these girls would become some of my closest friends here in the city.

Reflecting on that, I can't help but think about just how blessed I have been my entire life in the friend department. Following my "common denominator" logic, I would like to believe that I have been a good friend and, therefore, have been able to have good friends. But I know that there have been times when such has not been the case, and yet I have still been blessed. I don't know how I would be where I am today without the friendships that I've had and continue to have (including my family, as I consider them my best friends).

I'm so glad that when I interned here two years ago, I ended up living where I lived because it was in the same building as Sara and Alisa and, as a result of those friendships, I now have the loveliest little group of friends I could have hoped for. And while some of them are moving on, I am so grateful for them all.

And with the next Rhode Island trip just around the corner, I can't wait to see what the year ahead holds and the fun adventures we will go on. And I promise to start blogging more about those adventures and less about my whiney pants pity parties.

and just like clockwork

2011-07-18T21:19:00.003-06:00

The valley that I was writing about in my last post swiftly became a peak and I had a fantastic weekend.

My intention in this post was to write about my weekend, but as I wrote that first sentence, I pictured a road with hills and valleys. And I was imagining running on that hill. And it just occurred to me (I'm sure this is obvious to so many of you...I just happen to be a little slow sometimes) what a beautiful metaphor hills and valleys are. It's not just about the high point and the low point. It's also about what it takes to get to the high point and how easy it is to coast into the low point.

I was talking to a friend yesterday about how I feel like my life in New York has these amazing highs (like this weekend with the Met and the beach and movies and Donut Plant), but it also has these incredibly deep lows and so it feels like I'm unhappy a lot...but then I also have so many moments when I want to pinch myself just to make sure I'm awake because my life is so dreamy. People say when you move to New York it takes years off of your life. I think that might be true.

Back to the metaphor. I've been really frustrated by this whole roller coaster that is my life right now. I feel a little bit manic, to be totally honest. I feel like every five minutes I'm saying to someone something along the lines of, "Wow, I'm glad that's over," or, "Wow, how did I get here again?" It's exhausting.

So here's what I think I was missing that I just picked up on right now. It takes work to have those highs (or it should), but lately I feel like it's the momentum that's keeping me going. It's the drop from the high that pushes me on to the next one. If I'm really going to take the time to get through the crap and understand what's really behind it all, I might have to spend a little more time in the valley and then actually have to work my way to the next peak. And maybe that's not even possible to do in New York because life moves so fast. But maybe it is.

In any case, it's always to think rationally about these things when I'm happy as can be...we'll see how I feel about it all the next time I hit a low point. I'm nothing if not realistic--or maybe that's cynicism. (Such a fine line between the two...)

I don't know if this is making sense to anyone but me...but is making sense to me. And as I always say, I started this blog to find myself and this is part of me.

And now, because I've been loving my recent music discoveries...another new song. (Well, new to me.)

freeze and explode

2011-07-14T22:47:00.000-06:00

When I went to Arizona, my sister and brother-in-law introduced me to Chuck. In a matter of three weeks I have watched three seasons (just finished the third one tonight). I'm a little obsessed. It satisfies all of my TV watching needs (funny, suspenseful, romantic) and it has fantastic music. Which brings me to the title of this post. I'm a little obsessed with this song by Cassettes Won't Listen.

Beside the fact that I loved whatever episode of Chuck during which it played and whatever was happening at that moment (how I love Shazam!), the lyrics and melody just kind of capture how I've been feeling since I left Arizona (and my family).

Life moves so fast. Especially when you're not around the people you love. Especially in a city of 8,000,000 strangers. And I feel a little lost. And a little homesick...although I'm not sure where I would even call home.

Until you've lived in a city of 8,000,000 people, I don't think that you can understand just how lonely being alone can feel.

So, yes, I live in a great place and I have a great job (although that has its days, too). I go running in Central Park. I play soccer on a field that overlooks the Manhattan skyline, and I make plans to pop into the Met to see the Alexander McQueen Exhibition, not because I'm dying to, but because I can. And to the outside view, it's all very glamorous. And it can be. But sometimes it's just me, sitting on my couch, watching episodes of Chuck, missing my family, and wondering what I was thinking when I decided to move so far away.

And tomorrow (or next week, or sometime in the near future), I will wake up, and I will go outside, and it will be one of those perfect New York days when I can't imagine living anywhere else, and all will be well in the universe again and I will blog about how thrilled I am with my soccer team, or how nice it is to be able to ride the train right to beach, or how my job has provided me with summer Fridays so I can take advantage of the amazingness (not a word...deal with it) that is New York City in the summer time, or any number of other incredible things I love about living here.

But tonight, I'm just going to let myself have a moment--a moment which may involve one more episode of Chuck (season 4?) and some Phish Food.

paris trip giveaway!

2011-06-19T00:41:00.000-06:00

It's not me giving it away. It's the lovely Jordan from Oh Happy Day. Just go visit Oh Happy Day Goes to Paris for contest details.

waxing (from a former esthetician)

2011-06-17T20:09:00.000-06:00

We all know that I share A LOT here on the blog. Well, this post might take us to new levels of intimacy...although this is a family blog (as in my family reads it sometimes) so I'm going to speak as a professional.

Once upon a time I was an esthetician full time. Knowing this, people have often asked me about waxing and I get it. I mean, if you've never been waxed before (I'm talking bikini wax) it's got to be a little intimidating to think about having someone all up in your business and then not knowing how to ask for what you want. There are all of these terms (Brazilian, French, American...you can look them all up online, but unless you want to see exactly what each term means, I wouldn't recommend it).

So, here's a quick reference guide:

Bikini (aka American) - basically, this is what will keep you happy in a bathing suit and nothing more
Brazilian - this is the whole shebang (nothing left...and I mean nothing from front to back)
French - this is a happy medium

And now what you really need to know. If you want a good bikini wax, you just have to get comfortable being uncovered and in random (i.e. awkward positions - think annual visit and then some). And if you want it to be less painful (and much faster) go in trimmed. Invest in some bikini trimmers ($10-$20; try Target, Walmart, BB&B) and clean things up before hand. Your esthetician can deal with it if you don't but it will be much less painful for you if you do.

Here's what you should know from the esthetician side of the table. None of them care about what you look like, how skinny/fat you are, etc, as long as you are clean and willing to do what they need you to do to help them get the job done (i.e. cooperate with the weird positions you have to get in.

And the benefits of waxing over shaving? It all depends on who you are and how your skin reacts. But here are my top reasons for getting wax:

No razor burn and way few ingrown hairs
Long lasting results (three weeks!)
As someone who runs/exercises, there is no comparison
You just can't get everywhere with a razor you can with wax
It is way less painful (in my opinion) than the razor burn that is sure to follow shaving for me

So, to those of you who have never been waxed, I highly recommend it and this is the perfect time of year to do it.

This may not be as much information as you really wanted (there are a lot of things I'm not saying here as this is a family program), so should you have any random/personal questions, feel free to email me directly: chell0elizabeth@gmail.com.

oh...dumping

2011-06-14T18:41:00.001-06:00

So, I've been dumped before. And it has not been a pleasant experience. But even less pleasant is doing the dumping. I pretty much hate it. People are all for the "soft dump" but I am not good at it. I never have been. And personally, I don't really like being on the receiving end of the soft dump. Or the soft let down. Or the soft rejection. The bottom line is ripping the band-aid off hurts whether you do it slowly or quickly. I also think the "soft" anything unintentionally encourages false hope. That or it makes people feel even worse because they know you're just trying to make it less painful.

I actually appreciate a direct dump. Just get it over with so I can move on with my life. So, in true golden rule fashion (p.s. I don't actually think the golden rule is well thought out...we should really worry about treating others how they want to be treated, not how we would want to be treated), I did exactly what I would prefer to have someone do. I just came out with it. Well, after three days of minimal contact where there had been maximal contact before. (Yes, maximal is a word...although it's an exaggeration in this case, but whatevs...a lot of contact.)

The thing that I don't feel great about is that I did it over text message and I didn't really feel bad about it. I mean, on some level I might have, but there were no real alternatives. As he had decided that our main medium of communication would be texting (and by main, I mean only other than when we were actually on a date) anything else just felt like it would be kind of weird. So, this morning I rejected him via text. I tried to be nice about it, while remaining direct, but apparently I should just stick with what I know and not try to add any sugar because my friend informed me that I failed miserably and probably just made it worse.

Anyway, it's over. And the whole reason I really started writing this post was not to tell you all about my text message but to capture the following. While I sometimes know it's time to cut off a relationship and I do believe that direct is best, sometime my actions aren't so clear. The void that I feel in my life just from the lack of communication or attention or whatever often breaks my resolve to have a clean break and really be done which isn't fair to these guys who really are good people (usually). So, today, right after I sent the text message and he responded and it was clearly over, I purged him from my phone completely. It was done as soon as it was over. And it's a good thing too, because right now the attention needing, insecure girl in me is wishing she could just text him a little bit more or go out one more time or maybe just have a little breakup make out. (Not that I think of this as a breakup--it was six weeks--but you get the point.)

The good news is there's nothing I can do. I have no way of contacting him. So it's done. And I feel good about it. And I'm sure he's fine. Really, I'm sure he was starting to see that we were not MFEO. But oh, the lack of attention is hard to deal with.

So, it's back to the drawing board. And I think, for now, the drawing board isn't going to consist of me trying to capture the perfect guy, but more me trying to create the perfect me, whether the guy ever comes into the picture. A me that doesn't crave the attention of a guy quite so much and is content with her very good, very fun, very happy life.

Note: In an effort to create this "best" me, I am about to go to bed (it's 8:40 pm NY time) so I'm not rereading this or editing it. Please don't judge the missed words, mixed up letters, or hanging prepositions. I'm sure I'll come back and fix them later.

oh...dating

2011-06-12T18:15:00.001-06:00

I know I just wrote about a little epiphany I had about not worrying so much about not being married, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be dating. And maybe I shouldn't write things about dating because it has to get boring after a while, but this is my blog and dating is what's been happening in my life lately (thankfully?), so here goes.

I would really like to find a nice, smart Mormon guy to date and possibly/eventually married. And there are a number of them floating around. And I don't know if it's that they don't want to date me or think that I don't want to date them, but the end result is the same...I am not being asked out by Mormon guys. Please don't read this as me blaming the guys for my lack of dating. I definitely have issues that contribute to this situation.

So, two months ago, I decided to get back online because, well, if I'm being perfectly honest, my ego needed a little boost and some guy had emailed me and curiosity got the best of me. And then, because I've been feeling lately like I really need to work on the whole Mormon dating thing because I would like to find a nice Mormon guy, I put myself on one of the Mormon dating sites.

On the Mormon site there were some guys with potential. And a bunch of 50 and 60 somethings who, for some reason, think that hitting on a 33-year-old is acceptable even though they could be my father. Can I say that something is flattering while simultaneously finding it completely repulsive? No? Okay. Then it was just gross. So, nothing came of the Mormon online efforts.

In the non-Mormon online dating scene, the email that provided the main catalyst for me to join Match.com again came from a really nice guy who lives in the Bronx and is maybe just a little too young for me. We emailed back and forth a few times. Then texted. Then he asked me out (over text...the reality that is the 21st century and online dating) and so we went out. And it was fun. And the next week we went out again. And again, it was fun. And so on and so forth. But that's all it has been is fun. No depth. And then Friday night, it wasn't fun anymore. It was work.

Here's what sucks. This guys is really nice. And he's super attentive. And he likes me. And I feel good about myself when I'm with him. And he's attractive. But we come from two completely different worlds and have almost nothing in common. While that was fun for the first five weeks, it's just painful now.

As we were sitting at dinner and he was telling me another story about something I didn't care about, the words of my grandmother came back to haunt me. "Your chances of finding someone just aren't very good because you aren't going to be happy with just anyone." I wanted to like this guy. He's nice and attentive and he likes me a lot. But I just don't like him. And now I have to figure out a way to tell him that. And I want to be nice about it. Although part of me thinks a text message would be totally reasonable since that's how he asks me out.

I think the most depressing thing about this whole thing is realizing, once again, that the boys who want to date me are not the boys I want to date and the boys I do want to date don't want to date me. But what single person you know hasn't been depressed about the same thing? And so, life goes on and there are new guys on the horizon who I probably won't like or who won't like me, but I'll keep trying...

P.S. If any of you have any nice, smart, single male friends you think I might like and might like me (especially of the Mormon variety) I am not above being set-up. :)

palmyra

2011-06-09T19:49:00.000-06:00

Just shy of five years ago, I headed to upstate NY to spend some time with my just exed ex-fiance (yes...sometimes I'm slightly masochistic). Needless to say that, while Palmyra was beautiful and it was fun to spend some time in upstate New York, the memory of that place was slightly tainted. So, when Montreal became cost prohibitive for our Memorial day weekend trip and Maria suggested we head to Palmyra instead, I was all for it. I was ready to make a new memory.

The entire weekend was amazing. We stopped in Poughkeepsie where we were able to visit the Walkway over the Hudson, the Eveready Diner (featured on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives). We stayed in Albany the first night and let's just say it was an experience. It's the state capitol of New York and it's kind of creepy. We decided it would be the perfect location for the next Will Smith post-apocalyptic summer blockbuster. Just to highlight the weirdness of the place, when we attended the little church Sunday morning, a very nice woman (probably my age) sitting behind us with her three darling children introduced herself and then proceeded to ask us why we were visiting. That probably doesn't sound that weird, but it was the look on her face. A look that screamed, "Get out while you can! And take me with you."

And then, Sunday, we made it to Palmyra where we were able to walk through the Sacred Grove with almost no one else around. I'm sure it was a really great experience for both Jenna and Maria who had not been there before. For me, it was great in a different way. While I am well over the pains of my broken engagement, the fact that I'm still single when I would prefer not to me is a little painful. So I was dealing with a lot emotionally. Add to that that I had recently been out with a guy a couple of times who is nice and fun, but has no long term potential (sometimes I think that's more painful than not dating at all) and it was just a lot to deal with...and yet it felt good to be dealing with it.

The next morning, as I thought more about my current single status and my desire for it to be otherwise, I had a very clear question come into my mind. What would you be doing if you weren't worried about getting married? And so many thoughts came to my mind; getting out of debt, spending more time serving others, not stressing out about the fact that I am not now, nor ever have been, nor ever will be a size 6. You know...stuff like that. And while it is now two weeks later and not worrying about not being married is not easy, I am able to remind myself of that little question when I start to stress out (more to come on the dating front...).

And back to the weekend...while all of this emotional stuff was going on, the fun and games also continued. Seriously, road trips are the best! Especially road trips with friends who see nothing abnormal about starting dinner with Red Lobster cheddar biscuits, and then continuing on to P.F. Chang's...only after seriously debating whether a stop at Chili's for some chips and queso might be necessary. That's right. Did it! Oh, how I love my friends!

fear

2011-06-08T21:08:00.000-06:00

I started reading yet another YA dystopian fiction book a couple of days ago; Divergent by Veronica Roth. I haven't finished it yet, but I'm loving it so far. Anyway, there's this great part in the book where Tris, the main character, is discovering what it means to be Dauntless (one of five factions). She had always imagined the Dauntless to be fearless, but the reality is different:

"I used to think the Dauntless were fearless. That is how they seemed, anyway. But maybe what I saw was actually fear under control."

Recently, someone asked me what I was afraid of and there wasn't really anything that came to mind, barring losing people I love. But as I thought about it more, in the context of the quote above, I realized that I am actually afraid of a lot of things. The difference is I don't let it control me. Or at least I try not to.

A couple of weeks ago, I signed up for a running class in an effort to get faster. As soon as I did it, I regretted it. I know I'm a slow runner, but I don't worry about it because I just go by myself and no one is paying attention to how slow I am. But then I had to go and sign myself up for a class that was going to put my slowness in the spotlight.

Last week was the first week. Work was crazy. I didn't bring my running clothes with me because I thought I'd have time to go home and change. In hindsight, I think this was my subconscious way of getting out of the class. And as it turned out, I didn't make it. I did the workout later. On my own. In the comfort of anonymity and solitude. And I was relieved.

Now, I'm an adult. I have a job. I pay my own bills. If I want to throw perfectly good money down the drain because I'm too scared to follow through on a class that stretches me way outside of my comfort zone, in theory I can do that. In practice, however, I can't.

So this week, I made sure I was ready to go (it helps that my coworker is taking the class with me...it also hurts because she's a much faster runner than I am). And it was every bit as scary and difficult as I thought it would be. And unlike soccer, I didn't discover that my skills are actually much better than I anticipated. I was just as slow as I thought I would be. And yet, at the end of the class, I felt good for facing my fear and just doing it.

Does that mean I'm excited for next week? Of course not. But will it be a little easier to at least want to do it? Let's hope so because I'm doing it either way.

exactly what i needed

2011-05-23T22:14:00.000-06:00

This weekend I was supposed to be running a half marathon in Philadelphia with my lovely friend Anne. Sadly, neither one of us was really in a good place to do it...both struggling with various injuries. Thankfully, it would appear that my calf is almost back to normal, but running a half marathon probably would not have been the best idea. So, instead, I decided that it would be the perfect weekend to go visit Anne in DC before she and her husband move to Africa for the next two years.

Best. Idea. Ever.

Anne texted me on Thursday to ask me what I wanted to do. My response was "Nothing". I've been to DC before and done the tourist thing, but I live in the most touristy city in the US and the last thing I wanted to do was push through crowds of tourists to see sites I've already seen. Thankfully, she was on board with that. So, we suburbed it up all weekend, which included going out to eat, going for a walk to get ice cream, laying by the pool until it started raining, and a little window shopping. It was lovely.

I realize that my life is filled with girl time and I have the most amazing girlfriends, but there's something that I really appreciate about my happily married girlfriends and the time I get to spend with them. I think sometimes it's so easy being single and having a bunch of single friends to create this fantasy about married life. (I know all of you married ladies are laughing right now, but try and remember what life was like when you were single...try and contain yourselves.)

And despite what you all might be thinking, it's not because it makes me realize how great my single life is...I generally appreciate that. I think it's that it gives me hope and makes me realize that it's worth waiting for that guy who really wants to be with me and appreciates everything I have to offer. My girlfriends have all married great guys. None are perfect, nor are my girlfriends, nor are their marriages, but they are good. And they are happy. And isn't that worth waiting for?

Um, on top of all that, I just love Anne. She's one of my favorite people. And while we weren't able to run the half marathon this weekend, we did relive some great St. George memories and we made plans for our next race: Casablanca, Morocco in October 2012. My goal was to run another marathon next year and doesn't that just seem dreamy? I'm trying to convince her to run the Great Wall Marathon after that, but I'm not sure she's going to be having it.

Oh, and we also planned out the next 10 years of my life. But I'm going to go ahead and keep that to myself for now...but I'm kind of excited! Such a lovely weekend with such a lovely friend.

impact

2011-05-14T21:53:00.000-06:00

This has nothing to do with this post, other than I took it today.

Today, my church put on a street fair on the upper east side. They do it every year (I think) and I decided to stop by to say hi to Jenn who was volunteering there. As I was getting ready to leave, I saw a woman out of the corner of my eye who looked so familiar. It only took me about two seconds to realize that it was Kendra, a friend from my first summer term in college.

I walked up to her to say and hi and was happy to see that she instantly recognized me. She has been living in the city with her husband and kids for the past seven years. It was great hearing about her life and catching up. She asked me if I was still in touch with anyone from that summer, to which I responded barely, followed by, "That wasn't exactly a great time in my life."

She reminded me that she had been in the same boat. At the time, her parents had been going through a divorce and she was feeling pretty insecure about the whole thing. And then she told me that it had been so great to meet me at that point in her life because, having survived my parents' very drawn out and ugly divorce, I helped her to see that life doesn't end just because your parents get divorced.

Unfortunately, I think we are rarely able to see the impact that we have on the lives of others (for good and bad), so it is so nice when we do get to see it, or at least be told about it. I've had some pretty crazy things happen in my life, and I often think about how those things have impacted my life personally, and the person I've become as a result of the craziness, but I don't often think about how my ability to share those experiences with others can have a real impact on their lives. It was great to be reminded of that today. And it was great to reconnect with Kendra because she is so fabulous.

an adventure in the catskills

2011-05-08T12:04:00.001-06:00

Yesterday, my friend Michelle and I decided to get out of the city for a little adventure in nature. Michelle decided we should hike Wittenberg Mountain. In her Catskill Mountains guide book the hike was rated as difficult. We joked about how a difficult rating for the Catskill Mountains would probably be like a moderate hike in the Rockies. As we set out, I was thinking that maybe the people that rated the hike had actually done some hiking outside of the Catskills and knew what they were talking about.

About 30 minutes in, we discovered we were on the wrong trail. We decided that we would head back down and get on the right trail since that was the hike we had planned to do. In the process of figuring out where we were and where we should have been, it was also discovered that the trail we were on was rated as moderate...this made me a little nervous as I was wearing running shoes and felt ill-equipped (both in actually equipment and physical shape) to hike 3.9 miles up on a trail rated difficult. But I just smiled and followed Michelle down to the right trail head.

What the guide did not share with us was that we would actually be doing a little rock climbing. And the rock climbing is after you've already hiked uphill for about 3 miles, so you are tired, but too far up to throw in the towel. And you think after the first wall that that has to be it, but you would be mistaken. Three walls later (the book refers to these as "scrambles"...I think because if you were to fall, you would become scrambled like an egg), we finally were on normal hills again. And then we reached the top. And it was TOTALLY worth it.

This was the first of the "scrambles"...not sure the picture does it justice, but it was serious.

I wish this picture did justice to just what an amazing view this is...I also wish I could have capture the lightening storm we could see in the distance. But, unless you hike this yourself, you're just going to have to take my word for it. AMAZING!

Of course, the hike back down was hard, as well, but a different kind of hard. Besides just being a killer on the joints, I managed to twist my ankle and trip multiple times (running shoes and serious hiking do not mix) one time almost ended with me falling face first into a rocky stream...except for a lovely tree that broke my fall. It really was quite the adventure and one I would actually repeat.

Once we got down, we decided to stop in the little town nearby and get dinner...which was also an awesome experience. Sadly I did not get any pictures of the multiple tie-dyed outfits I saw (Phoenicia, where we had dinner, is about 13 miles from Woodstock), but trut me when I say it was impressive. Talk about a perfectly spent Saturday. I couldn't have asked for better.

working it out

2011-05-03T21:44:00.000-06:00

So appropriate that Mother's Day is this week. As mentioned in the last post, I've been having a bit of a rough go of things. And this bit has kind of lasted a little longer than a bit. And I was starting to worry. Which obviously wasn't going to help. You never solve a problem through worrying. So, life kept going. I tried not to worry. I let myself cry. I knew it would eventually get better. I started running in the mornings with the lovely and talented Jenna. I tried to get more sleep. I tried not to eat my way into feeling better. All of this helped, but then tonight, I feel as if a switch was flipped...

Once upon a time I was a little girl with a very active mother. She had always been pretty athletic and she decided to pass that along to us; swimming, softball, tennis, soccer, basketball...the list goes on. During my MBA program, I thought about taking a soccer class to refresh the skills, but I was a little intimidated as one can only be by zoobie undergrads and their overachieving, still youthful ways. So I didn't. I wanted to play on an intramural team, but also didn't because I wasn't sure if I'd be good anymore. And we all know I'm just a wee bit competitive.

A couple of months ago, when I was in a better place (mentally). I found this coed adult recreational soccer league. I was too intimidated to try and join a team, but I put myself on the mailing list for the next time they held classes because I was feeling adventurous and pretty fearless. And then last week, in the depths of my despair (don't I sound dramatic), I get a little email from NY Coed Soccer informing me that new classes would be starting this week. While the actual thought of taking the class with a bunch of strangers scared the crap out of me, there was this little voice inside me that told me to just do it. This would be exactly what I needed.

There were two classes offered. One was very basic: passing and receiving. The other was more advanced: aggressive ball handling or something. My uber competitive self would not allow me to sign up for both for fear I'd suck it up the first hour and then not want to be there for the second, so I didn't.

Yeah...not so brand loyal, am I?

Tonight was the first class. To say I was a little nervous would be a bit of an understatement. But, I've done scary things often enough to know that after the first few minutes, life goes on, I start breathing normally again, and no one will have actually tried to make me feel like an idiot. And tonight was no exception. In fact, about 10 minutes in I was already wishing I'd signed up for the second class. It was so fun! And I met some new people. And I had more soccer experience than anyone which meant I didn't feel like a total loser. And I didn't worry about how good anyone else was or when I messed up because we really were all there to learn.

On the way home from Brooklyn (yes, I haul my arse all the way to Brooklyn for this class), as I was cooling off from our little passing game, I realized that not once during that hour had I worried about my "problems" or felt even an inkling of depression. I was so focused on the technique and the drills and the game that there was no room in my brain for anything else. And I had all those endorphins pumping through me...which I'm sure didn't hurt.

While, during these down moments, there is really nothing I would like more than to have my mom around to tell me everything is going to be all right, "it always works out," it sure was nice to at least have her influence pushing me to do the things that she knew would make for a happy child. I'm still her kid, after all.

P.S. If anyone in NYC is interested in joining me on a coed team this summer, I'd love to have at least one person join me. Just let me know!

why i don't blog sometimes

2011-05-01T18:18:00.001-06:00

Besides just being busy, sometimes life is not my favorite thing. And when my life feels a little rough, I just don't like documenting it. Not because I care if people know I get depressed sometimes, but because I feel a little guilty. My life is so good and I have been blessed with so many great opportunities, so when I become focused on what my life lacks, I feel like a total brat and completely pathetic.

Without giving you the play by play of my most recent pity party, I'll just say that it was a little rough. It's pretty rare that I cry in front of people about my own life (movies, greeting cards, t.v. shows, fine, but real feelings, not so much) and I have cried multiple times over the past week.

Anyway, here's hoping I will feel better shortly, and I think I might! More to come on that...

what i've been up to...

2011-04-30T20:54:00.000-06:00

The little brother's graduation in Utah with all of my siblings. I love that we both graduated from the same MBA program and only a year apart. It was fun to be back a year later and think about what the last year has entailed. I'm excited for Justin and his family and their new adventures!

Hanging out with these kidlets at the rock gym in p-town. I don't know if I ever seen something so cute!

best advice

2011-04-10T18:45:00.000-06:00

My life has been utterly boring this week...which was a nice break. The only real excitement has been the dog-sitting, which is still going on. And while really like the dog and it has been fun, I have realized that until I have a yard, there will be no dog. Or until I have enough money for two dogs and a dog walker. It's fun to have a dog around and to have a reason to go for a walk. That said, I do not love having to come home right after work (I know I don't have to...she's five years old and well trained...but I feel guilty leaving her all day and not getting home as soon as I can) or having to get up 15 minutes earlier every morning to walk her.

So, it turns out that my coworker's advice was right on point. Try the dog for a week and see. I could picture coming home from work and having to walk the dog, but actually doing it, not as fun as it sounded. Additionally, no matter how clean a dog is, when you have an apartment as small as mine, there's no way it can not smell like dog. Wasn't prepared for that.

Adventures in dog ownership end on Tuesday. I'm sure I'll feel a little lonely...but it will be nice to have my life back.

adventures in dog sitting

2011-04-04T20:38:00.000-06:00

Okay, so I've wanted to get a dog for a while. I get mixed reactions from people. Some people say, "Go for it." Others say, "Why would you want to tie yourself down?" The most helpful reaction I got was from my coworker who has a dog. She said, "I love my dog, but before you get one, you should try dog sitting and see how it goes. I'd even volunteer my dog."

As luck would have it, my coworker is heading to London tomorrow and, while she would normally take her dog out to NJ for her mom to watch, she volunteered her dog to me. And so, I am now the dog-sitting for the next seven days...in an attempt to try it out. So far so good (it's been about an hour). I have to admit, I'm kind of already loving the idea of having a dog. Of course, someone else's dog is not the same as having your own (I am definitely not her person), but she is a cute little thing and I think we are going to have lots of fun.

canyonlands pr

2011-03-24T21:46:00.002-06:00

Last Saturday was the big day. I wasn't sure what to expect. After the horrible run I had had the previous Saturday, I just wasn't feeling super confident about the run. That said, I was excited to be doing and I was really excited to be running it with my brother and sister-in-law. And by "with" I mean that we would all be running the same course...

We had to be on the buses to get to the starting line by 8:00 am for the race which started at 10. Last year, this was MISERABLE. It was so cold I literally wasn't sure I was going to make it. But this year...20 degrees warmer and it was totally manageable. The one concern was the wind. And it proved to be a serious issue.

The routine, pre-race, is to have this super yummy protein shake that Cherity makes and a half a banana. Right before the race, Cherity gave me some pills that are supposed to help with lactic acid build up or something. (It's a good thing I was never a club girl because I'm sure if someone had handed me a pill and told me it would give me energy, I probably would have taken it.) I popped some ibuprofen, as well. Normally, I bring some with me too, but I just didn't want to this year. In fact, the only things I had with me were Shot Bloks and a Red Bull shot...both of which zipped into my shirt.

The first two miles were misery. Seriously, I've never struggled with muscle pain, but my calves were on FIRE! I was really worried. And really frustrated. But then, somewhere during the third mile, the pain finally went away. Maybe that's when the ibuprofen kicked in?

While the wind sucked (12 miles of headwinds with only the occasional--and very minor--breaks), the temperature was perfect and it was just a little overcast. Ideal. I don't know if it was the Red Bull shot or the pills I popped, or just some will power, but during the first 10 miles I was able to keep a great pace. I was averaging exactly where I wanted to. At the 10 mile marker, I figured out my time should I continue to run at the same pace. And then I watched as that time slipped from my grasp.

By mile 11, my feet were really hurting. I knew I had at least one blister, and while it was manageable, I just couldn't keep going at that pace. So I slowed down. And then I walked for a while. Then I ran some more. And so an so forth... My dad, sister, and my brother's two kids were all still hanging out on the street outside our condo when I walked past (there was no saving face at this point...I had to walk for a while). It was so fun to have them there and be able to say hi.

When I got to the last mile, I was determined to run it. And then that determination just went away. I was exhausted. But I managed to pull it together for the last quarter mile or so. Yeah. It was rough. But I finished. And I finished at exactly the time I had said was the maximum I would be happy with. Exactly 10 minutes faster than last year. And a PR for me on this course!!!

And, by way of information (and because I was curious and couldn't remember) I looked up my time for the fastest half I've ever run; 24 minutes faster than what I ran this one at. This is my new goal for the third half I will run this year. I'm not sure when or where I'm going to run the third one, but that's my goal and I really think I can do it. As for the number two...it is eight weeks away in Philadelphia and I will be doing it with the lovely Anne. My goal for that...cut 10 more minutes. I know that sounds ambitious, but I have a plan. Wish me luck!

ETA: A quick shout out to my brother and sister-in-law. Cherity cut 13 minutes from her time last year (beating my all time PR)! And Justin cut 29 minutes off his time!!! Talk about super stars! I'm so glad that they were willing to do this with me last year and I'm so proud of my sister-in-law who I remember saying at one point in time that she never had any desire to run that far. She's amazing!!!

lessons from a matchmaker

2011-03-17T07:45:00.000-06:00

I'm on vacation in Vegas right now with Sarah and Kelly. It's currently 5:55 AM local time and I'm on a conference call. So as not to completely piss off my lovely friends, I came downstairs and am sitting in the cafe adjacent to the casino. The call started at 5 am, meaning I got out of bed at 4:55 AM - no reason to get ready at all when I'm going right back to bed when this is over. At least that's what I thought...

I've been reading Patti Stanger's book, Become Your Own Matchmaker. One of the things she talks about, in terms of getting guys to ask you out, is going places alone so that you are approachable. And so that you aren't competing with your prettiest friend. The "prettiest friend" piece totally makes sense. Don't get me wrong. I don't think I'm ugly. But I do think I have a lot of girlfriends who are prettier/thinner/sexier (do people use that word?) than I am. And this is obvious when we are all out together. Certain friends always get the attention. Not a big deal since we are not generally out "cruising for guys". I appreciate that I have such attractive friends. That doesn't change the fact that it's true.

Moving on...I also get the whole "go places alone" idea. It makes sense. One woman...much easier to approach than 3 or 4 or 5. That said, almost never do this. Not because I have issues going places alone (I will go to movies, lunch, dinner, concerts, etc, alone), but in both my personal life and my work life, there are just a lot of people I want to see on a regular basis and so when I go out, it's usually to see them. I also just struggle with the idea of getting all ready to go out by myself. Not to mention, I have zero interest in meeting someone in a bar, which then begs the question, "Now that I'm all dressed up and ready to go, where do I go?"

Well, shame on me for not making an effort to figure out the answer to that question and make it happen. As I have been sitting here in this little cafe, this guy sat down not too far from me and keeps looking over. Of course, my instant thought is that he must be staring at my oh-so-cute pajamas that I am wearing--with a hoodie. And not in a good way. Not to mention the half-wet bun in my hair as a result of my shower just before bed. I feel super attractive. Oh, and lest I forget to mention, he's the type of guy I would actually want to check me out (i.e. age appropriate, good looking, has game, etc).

So, I'm sitting here, semi-mortified and trying to focus on my computer and my conference call and in walk his four friends. They obviously have yet to go to bed after last night's adventures. They are now all glancing over at me, trying to be sly about it. And now, one of them has actually decided to talk to me. He apologizes for how loud they are being. They are having a good time and laughing lots--however, it's not like the cafe is quiet otherwise. Side note: I'm enjoying the Wynn, but the elevator-ish music they play everywhere at high volumes is kind of obnoxious...I am not yet their target market (thankfully).

After sitting at my table, attempting to look very focused on what I'm doing and for them to not know that I've seen them see me, I now have an opportunity to acknowledge them. I smile broadly and tell them "No big deal." I have the line muted and am just listening, so it really isn't a big deal. I notice, when I smile, that they are all looking at me and smiling. This is a moment when I am oh-so-grateful that I have become aware that one of my best features is my smile (Patti would be proud). So, despite the fact that I am in my St. Patrick's Day PJs and a red hoodie with no makeup on (let's just say I've looked better), I know that now that I'm smiling, that is all they're seeing.

I'm still on my conference call and have to turn my focus back on my computer. I continue to notice them without looking at them and am attempting to look as attractive as possible--in other words, not making my "I'm so focused" face, which creates a big crease in my forehead. But every so often, I look their way and smile, making eye contact with whomever happens to be looking. And it's flattering to realize that there is always someone looking...who readily smiles back.

They are all getting up to leave now. (In an ideal world, I wouldn't still be on this call. I also wouldn't be in my PJs so that I wouldn't be embarrassed to stand up.) The original guy hangs out a little longer than the rest, making himself busy clearing their table. Now, all but one of his friends has left, but he is lingering by the door just waiting. Original guy comes over to the trash can by me (less convenient than the one closer to his table and on the way out the door), dumps his tray and starts talking to me. Of course, this is right when I have to be paying attention to my conference call because my initiatives are being discussed, so I am doing my best to engage, smile, and also speed things along.

We chatted for a minute and now he is on his way. Not ideal. Also not the point.

The point? Patti is totally right. (Not that I ever questioned her, but it's always great to have confirmation from personal experience.) Sitting alone means you're not being compared to your friends and you are totally approachable. The other lesson...NEVER, ever go into a public space in your PJs, no matter how cute they are or how little you think you care because you never know when you might meet someone.

And now, the conference call is ending and I will head back to my room (avoiding a glance in any of the hundreds of mirrors in this hotel/casino, so that I won't know just how rough I look) and go back to bed for a couple of hours. Working on vacation turned out to be not such a bad thing.

***Please don't judge my inconsistent use of tenses. I didn't get very much sleep and typed this as it was all happening, which means I was focused on three different things at once. Never the best combination.

life's little mishaps

2011-03-15T01:56:00.013-06:00

Last night, before The Bachelor Finale party (side note: watching The Bachelor with my girlfriends is so entertaining and really, the only reason to watch it) at my place, Kelly and I got pedicures. This was a last minute decision on my part, but it worked out. As we were chatting, I commented on how I didn't realize how early she'd be getting in to Vegas today for our girls' trip, since Sarah and I aren't getting in until tonight. Her response was, "You mean Wednesday, right?" And in that moment, I knew we'd had a serious break down in communication.

She checked the hotel reservations, and sure enough, they are only for Wednesday and Thursday nights. Somehow between all of our emails, texts, and phone calls, the lines got crossed and what Sarah and I understood as a trip that would start Tuesday night, Kelly understood as Wednesday morning.

All I could do was laugh. I mean, what else could I do? I found this seriously comical. And then the texts that followed between me and Sarah had me rolling on the floor (not literally) because they were so funny--I would share, but they were inside jokes and the explanation would kill the humor.

I never worry about stuff like this, especially since Sarah is about as easy going as they come when travel is involved. So, I told her that I would just call Christy (who I'd been hoping to see anyway) and see if she would be a total lifesaver and let us crash at her place...oh, and pick us up at the airport. (Quick disclaimer, I would never ask such a thing if I didn't know that I would do this very thing for someone in a similar situation.) I was laughing about the whole thing even while I left a message on Christy's voicemail.

Thankfully, it is working out beautifully. Christy is going to pick us up and let us crash at her place. We are saving money on one less night in a hotel. I get to see Christy who I adore. All is well in the end.

The moral of the story (besides just being funny) is that, at least in my opinion, things really do always work out, especially if you believe that they always work out. Once again I will thank my mother for teaching me this lesson over and over and over again so that my instant reaction in these situations is to laugh rather than freak out. And really, how much better is this vacation story already? Can't wait to see what the rest of it holds!

running fail (or "my need for high achievement is ruining my life")

2011-03-14T21:20:00.014-06:00

On Thursday I was lucky enough to get an hour with the head of HR at my company. This is kind of a big deal and one of the reasons I chose to come work for this company. He is just a really great man and even with all he has going on he's willing to make time for me. Anyway, not the point. The point is that during this conversation, he told me about an article one of his friends is writing for HBR about people who have a high need for achievement. We discussed this at length as it relates to work and life, etc. We talked about the need to achieve vs. actual ambition. Two very different concepts, and not the point of this post, but I will say that I am motivated by my need to achieve and not actual ambition (i.e. if there was no one to tell about my running, I probably wouldn't do it). And "motivated" is probably too positive a word to describe what is actually going on. I'd almost call it a disease...like my other diseases this one is in my head and all about behavior.

So, what does this have to do with running? I will tell you.

I decided, since I had run 12 miles the Saturday before and now mentally know I can finish a half marathon this coming Saturday, that I would only run six miles on Saturday, but that I would actually push myself to run those six miles like it was a race. My mentoring schedule got switched, so I got to sleep in, and didn't end up heading out the door until about 1:00 pm.

When I left my apartment, something felt off on my hands. I checked to see if I had rings on (I wear rings every day, but not when I run...I'm kind particular about such things). No. No rings on my fingers. I figured maybe it was that. When I got to the park (remember how "the park" is "Central Park"? I wonder if that will ever stop being special for me...) I realized what I had forgotten. My watch. I debated for a couple of minutes whether to walk back home and get it. I decided it wasn't worth it. While the park is only a couple of blocks from me, those are Avenue blocks, not Street blocks (ie about 1/2 a mile in total) and I had a feeling if I went home, I wouldn't leave again.

I told myself this would be good. I could run without the pressure of a watch. I could just run to run. And that lie worked for about 2.5 miles. And then sheer willpower kept me running for the next 1/2 mile. And then...I just gave up. I stopped caring if I was running or walking. If I wasn't going to be able to say how fast (or slow) I'd done it, what was the point? And that's when I realized that I have a serious achievement issue. I knew this when it came to jobs. It's not likely I will ever be an entrepreneur because it's the competition factor that makes me work as hard as I do. I like being compared to people...when I know I will win.

You might be asking yourself how that works with running if I'm so slow. It's a good question. The way it works with running is this. I know I can't beat anyone else, so I just run against myself. And if you've ever been running with me, you'll know that unless we pace similarly, I will just quit and let you go ahead. I can't stand to be the one holding someone back...and knowing that I'm holding someone back...and knowing that I'm not as "good" as someone else. This is a serious flaw. And it's not news to me, but it was seriously so hilarious (read: sickening) to see it play out like this so soon after my conversation with the big boss.

Needless to say, my watch is at the top of my packing list for my trip tomorrow. And here's hoping that my total lack of running on Saturday (I get that three miles is still something, but when you compare it to 13.1, it's kind of small beans) will not kill me in Moab. And with that, I must go pack. I have to be at work early tomorrow and I head to the airport straight from the office. Wish me luck!!!

12 miles in central park

2011-03-06T21:58:00.000-07:00

I knew all week that I needed to run 12 miles on Saturday. I was planning for it. I scheduled my Friday evening so I could get plenty of sleep. And that would have worked if not for a phone call from my dear sister. Sometimes family really must come first. So, I didn't get home or in bed as early as I had hoped. Such is life.

I set my alarm as if I was going to get up early enough to run the 12 miles before I had to go to mentoring. But then, when my alarm (or maybe alarms) went off, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I kept watching the time tick on...not sleeping, but not waking, just thinking about how I should be getting up.

But I didn't get up until I had to for mentoring. I laid in bed until almost 11 am. I never do that, but I just couldn't get up. I was so tired. It had been a long week. And yet, I knew I was going to have to go running. So, I mentally prepared for it.

On my way to mentoring, I grabbed a banana and a bagel so I would have plenty of time to digest it before running. I knew I'd have to get out the door almost as soon as I got home, so I had to eat.

And now, a digression: it's an interesting thing to eat when you view food as fuel rather than something to be enjoyed. Not that I didn't enjoy the banana and bagel. I did. But I also knew that I had to eat these two things; the potassium in the banana and the carbs in the bagel would be exactly what my body needed to make it the 12 miles I was going to push it. Eating felt good. Not like something I shouldn't be doing. Which is how I often feel when I'm eating. Even if I'm making good choices. But eating to feed my body so it can do the things I want it to do changes how I feel about food. I wish I could always eat that way. But such is not the way my body (or my emotions) work...

Back to the running. I left mentoring about 15 minutes early because I knew I wanted to run my 12 miles in Central Park and I did not want to be running after dark. There was a very small window of opportunity to make that happen.

It was a lovely day and I actually wore shorts and a short sleeve shirt. It was a little cold to start, but I warmed right up. Given my knee and how it's been feeling, I made sure to actually stretch once I warmed up. And then I was off.

For the entire first loop (six miles) I was having debates in my head about whether I really needed to run all 12 miles. Wouldn't nine be enough? But as I approached the end of the first loop, I knew the answer. No. Nine would not be enough. Running is 90% mental. In order to finish the 13.1 miles I will be running in two weeks, I knew I needed to know I could do 12. And so, I turned around and reversed the loop. (I couldn't stand the thought of repeat exactly what I had just done.) The first half I pushed myself. The second half, my only goal was to keep going. And yet, somehow, I managed to do the two loops in almost the exact same amount of time.

The bad news is that my time was a bit slower than I was hoping. The good news is that the race course I will be running in two weeks is much less hilly. In fact, most of it is downhill. So, I'm thinking in the next week or so, I will put in a good push with some serious training runs, focusing on speed work, and then I will enjoy a relaxing couple of days in Vegas pre-race, and if all goes well, I should be able to cut 10 minutes off my time from last year. Here's hoping.

my dad is old (and other random thoughts)

2011-03-01T16:55:00.002-07:00

I got to go to Utah this weekend to spend it with my entire family for my dad's 70th birthday. I am number four of five siblings and my dad was not super young (at least not by the standards of the time) when he married my mom. It makes sense. But it's weird to think he's five years older than my grandpa was when he died. Life and death. Such interesting things to think about.

Anyway, it has been four years since my entire family had been together. Coordinating such a gathering for 17 people is kind of crazy. That's right. There are seventeen of us now. In my effort to not overly orchestrate the entire thing (I tend to be the planner of these things), I made no real plans other than we would be going to dinner on my dad's actual birthday. It was great. And low stress. We played in the snow. We played at this indoor gym. We played at my brother's house. And we ate. And ate. And ate. And ate. (Pictures of the gathering and playing to come...I did not take any eating pictures.)

Oh, and I ran with my younger brother and sister-in-law. And by with, I mean we followed the same route. They are both quite a bit faster than I am to begin with and then you add in the altitude that I'm not used to, and well, I ran 9 miles for their 10.

So, a couple of thoughts from the weekend:

I love my family. I mean, we have issues, but I really do love them. Especially my nieces and nephews.
I have the cutest nieces and nephews in the world. (I'm not biased at all...). Seriously, from the 16 year old to the 2 year old, they are just so adorable. It is so fun to see them develop and grow and become their own little people (or big people...my nephew has got to be at least 6' now). I also decided I cannot have children because the odds of cuteness just aren't in my favor. I mean, after seven absolutely darling cherubs (it's a term my grandma loves), I can't imagine I would get so lucky. And they LOVE me. There's nothing that makes me smile more than my nieces or nephews say, "Hi Auntie Chlo-Chlo" or "Cwo-Cwo" as is the case with two of the littles.
Running at altitude is not easy when you're not used to it. And running down the canyon that has no been plowed and has four inches of fresh snow...is cold and wet. Really wet. More to come on this. It deserves it's own post.
My family is a bunch of enablers when it comes to eating. Doesn't matter how hard you try, somehow my sister and her "I need a treat" just sucks you in. And of course, she's the skinniest of us. (Okay, I'm really just putting the blame on her...we all did it.)
I love that I have somehow managed to get my brother and sister-in-law on this road race bandwagon. While I don't love that I'm the slowpoke, I do love that they will be running the half marathon with me a few weeks from now.
I am too old to be flying the redeye and thinking I will somehow be functional. At least I was smart enough to plan to work from home today, so I got to take a little nap. But seriously, not my favorite thing. And this time around, I had a kid who decided he needed to lay on my shoulder while he slept. I was annoyed.
I love New York, but someday it's nice to take a break every once in a while!
And this has nothing to do with the post, but everything to do with my week as I've been listening to this album non-stop (when I haven't been hanging with my fam) since I downloaded it last Tuesday. Adele is just amazing!

And one more.

because it's been too long

2011-02-28T22:36:00.000-07:00

I'm pre-dating this post so that it follows right after my dad's birthday on the blog. Here are some photos of the nieces and nephews. I can't believe how big the older ones are getting. And how grown up the younger ones seem. It was also fun to take some action shots of them. My brothers and sisters will be so sad if I ever decide to stop taking pictures...

Probably my favorite pic of the whole sledding expedition!

The same niece, looking a little less crazy. :)

Can you see the mud flying?

Love the tongue on this one...this was her face down almost every run.

My oldest nephew...I can't believe he's almost 17. And my niece who is almost 8!

My nephew wore his hat like this basically the whole time. Trust me, he was having fun, even though you can't see it on his face like you can on his cousin's.

So much fun!

At the end of a very fun afternoon of sledding...

they went easy on me this week

2011-02-20T20:38:00.003-07:00

No wet pants. No gum in hair. And no bloody nose. Teaching primary today was entirely uneventful, except to say that I love it more and more every week. As I've started to get to know these kids, I am starting to see how it is that God loves all of us, even with our quirks and flaws and stupid choices.

The one thing I will say for this week is that I think my co-teacher, Jessica, and I are slowly figuring out how to manage our "classroom". We met for dessert on Tuesday to discuss the kids and how we wanted to run things. The teacher before us had set up three ground rules that she had shared with Jessica, and I agreed that we should continue with them. They are basic. These kids are four. It works.

Keep your hands to yourself
Stay on your seat
Don't talk when someone else is talking

What is amazing to me is how well kids react to structure when you are consistent with it.

We also decided that where the kids sit would help. There are just a few kids that are little busier than the others. We also have a set of twins who like to always sit next to each other. So, we're mixing things up. We had them each color their own name tags today and I will get them laminated and put magnets on them to stick on the chairs each week. We were a little curious to see how they'd react to this forced seating, but they were all so excited to find their name that I don't think they even thought about the change. We'll see how it goes next week.

The other great thing about these, as I discovered today, is that I can use them in order to randomly call on people. Just like in any classroom, you have kids that are always answering questions and sharing and others that don't ever participate. It was seriously amazing to see how, if the kids new that I would be calling on them they a) listened a little better and b) were willing to answer.

So, all in all, things are going well. And not only do I just love these kids, I've discovered that I really look forward to church and it seems to fly by. I'm actually going to be sad to miss next week.

Now, as far as the lesson was concerned, it might not have been my best lesson ever. I could have done a better job with a few of the elements. That said, my goal is really for these kids to just know that I love them. And I think I accomplished that today. So, overall, a success.

And just because some of you might have kids in primary, a couple helpful things that will make life a little easier for your kids' teachers:

No gum
Unless you're providing snacks for everyone (or your kid has medical needs), don't send your kid in with them
While teachers of the younger children understand that wiping noses is part of the job, it's nice if you can at least drop your kid off with a clean face
Your child's favorite toy/blanket/etc can be very distracting and we don't really need any additional distractions

dear you...inspired by a trip into jersey

2011-02-19T20:00:00.004-07:00

Dear Woman I Rear-Ended,

I'm still not sure what exactly to say in response to what happened today. I'm not talking about the accident. I know why I hit you. It's my one driving downfall and is to blame for almost every one of my accidents. It comes from being an aggressive driver. I don't want to slow traffic down to merge onto a freeway, so as soon as I see the car in front of me start moving, I assume it is going to keep moving...and when I turn my head to check traffic so I can merge...well, you can see how that would be problematic if the car in front of me decides to stop. Again, not what has me speechless.

What I can't wrap my head around is the fact that when you go out of your car to yell at me, it was only to yell at me. And then you proceeded to get back in your car and drive away. I mean, I hit your car. I hit it. My fault. And you were the one running. So strange. Kelly and I were completely dumbfounded.

Sincerely,

A girl who is assuming that you're driving around without car insurance/a valid license and/or current registration...what other explanation could there be?

Dear ZipCar,

Thanks for making the whole process of dealing with the accident relatively painless. Hopefully, you won't decide I can't rent from you anymore, although I wouldn't blame you if you did. That said, seriously, the accident was super minor AND while it was my fault, I would like to use the previous letter as evidence that the woman I hit was crazy and therefore, I think the blame can be shared.

My apologies,

Chloe

Dear Nordstrom,

Thank you for being so close to IKEA. Kelly will tell you that I was more than a little excited when I saw your name on the side of the mall. And thank you for having such wonderful customer service. When my Uggs ripped a couple of weeks ago after only having purchased them in December, I knew that if I could just wait until I was back to Utah (by a Nordstrom, with a car) you would exchange my shoes. Since I wasn't planning on visiting you in NJ, it was just by chance that I was wearing said Uggs, and I definitely did not have a receipt with me. And yet, I knew that there would be no problems with exchanging them. And I was not disappointed.

Sincerely,

A girl who wishes every company had the same commitment to customer service

Dear Crazy Lady in the Mall Parking Lot (not to be confused with the crazy lady I hit earlier),

Yes, I do realize that I was driving the wrong way up the parking lot aisle. I'm not stupid. I saw a parking space you were leaving and I knew I could just flip a quick u-turn into it. My favorite part of this little moment was the way you looked at me as if I had just run over a cat and laughed. So while, yes, I take full responsibility for my actions and recognize that you were right to judge me for going the wrong way, I also think that if this was the most shocking thing you saw all day, your life could use a little more excitement. I suggest starting with walking in a bike lane. I wouldn't want you to be overwhelmed on your first attempt at living.

Warmest regards,

A girl who is sad that you probably went home and told your husband all about the abominable behavior you witnessed in the mall parking lot

Dear New Jersey Drivers,

I realize that my judgment of you might seem a little hypocritical given the aforementioned "accident", but I'm still going to ask a few questions. Feel free to respond as appropriate. Merging? Yielding? Signaling? Stopping? Freeway signs that are actually helpful? Your answers to these questions will help me understand what it is you think about while you should be thinking about doing these things.

Good luck,

Chloe

Dear Chili's,

I just want you to know that, no matter how long I live in fabulous New York City, or how many Michelin rated restaurants I eat at (none...yet), I will always love you. Your thin chips and thick queso. Your delicious grilled chicken. Your molten dessert. And your free refills! Thank you for being by IKEA. Thank you for tasting the same in NJ, UT, AZ, CA, NV, etc, etc. Thank you for giving me an uneventful moment in an otherwise overly eventful day.

Many thanks,

A foodie who loves the gourmet as much as the everyday

Dear Gypsy Cab Driver,

So, you though you had the advantage because I was in Washington Heights where there just aren't that many legit cabs available. And I was holding all of my purchases. And it was freezing and windy. Little did you know you were picking up a girl who knows how to negotiate. I know you were shocked when I asked you up front how much it was going to cost to get me to 96th and Broadway. And even more shocked when I said that was too much. And probably shocked again when I told you the second price quoted was fine, but it would be inclusive of a tip.

Thank for helping me feel like I am really becoming a New Yorker,

Chloe

because

2011-02-17T21:40:00.001-07:00

Because sometimes I have too much to say to do so coherently. Because my lovely friend Katie posted this on her blog and it made me smile. Because I ment Katie in Switzerland. Because I love Paris. Because I speak French.

EF - Live The Language - Paris from Albin Holmqvist on Vimeo.

Because I saw Ian Axel last night in concert and think you all should see him, too. Because Chad Vaccarino is amazing. Because I wish my voice sounded like Allie Moss' Because sometimes that are too many words on my blog. Because who doesn't love songs about new beginnings?

Because while waiting for the headliner last night, this song came on. Because it's a band I'd never heard. Because I like introducing people to new music. Because I like it.

Because I posted these words in my last post. Because this song makes me happy. Because I feel more free than I have in a long time.

wanting what we really want

2011-02-15T21:25:00.008-07:00

I had a great conversation tonight with a new friend. Jessica is my co-teacher for my primary class and we got together for dessert to discuss strategy. She's got the teaching expertise (high school teaching). I've got the kid knowledge (seven nieces and nephews). We're a good team...but not really the point of this post.

Anyway, after working through the details of strategy, structure, and implementation for our little class (yeah...my job does leak into everything I do), we got down to girl talk. She got married young. I'm still single. She likes to hear my stories. I like to talk. It works.

She was asking me about the boy I'd been interested in the last time we talked boys. I couldn't remember which one it was...so apparently, I've moved on. But I still had plenty to report.

While relaying these stories, I shared with her the recent epiphanies I've had as I've spent some time with some guys I would have never normally been interested in. There's nothing wrong with these guys...they just aren't necessarily part of my social scene. And maybe they're not what I would ever imagine dating. But for some reason, I've been thrown into these situations that have lent themselves to continued interaction.

And all of these epiphanies have made me realize that I kind of like these guys. Sure, they aren't the type I normally want (I was going to say "go after", but let's be honest...I don't normally go after anyone), but there's something about all of them that has made me realize that maybe I've been going after the wrong guys. As Patti likes to say, maybe my picker is broken. But admitting that maybe I actually like these types of guys...? Another issue.

And these have all been leading me to one thought. A thought that wouldn't form, but it was there. A thought that Jessica articulated perfectly tonight. (I wish you could have seen my reaction when she spoke these words...it was almost comical. Small jump in my seat. Eyes widened. Sharp intake of breath. Hands moving as I struggled to contain the thoughts pushing their way from my brain to my mouth without any kind of order.)

"Wanting what we want is hard."

Think about it. How often do we want what we think we should want? Or what we think others want? Or what we think others want us to want? Or, or, or?

Wanting what we really want (and admitting it and owning it) is scary. At least for me. And this is what my recent experiences with these very unlikely boys has made me realize. I have been wanting what I thought I should want. I did the same thing when I was deciding what direction to go in b-school. I wanted to do marketing because I thought I should want to do marketing. It made sense. My dad understood it. I didn't feel a need to justify my decision to anyone. But the reality was that I was terrified of going into marketing because it wasn't what I was going to be happy doing, and truthfully, I would have sucked at it. But admitting that what I wanted was to go into HR...well, that wasn't easy. And yet, once I did it, I was so much happier and it was so clear that that's what I really wanted...and I have been successful so far because it's a good fit for me.

The same seems to be true with boys...only I've been much slower to figure it out. But during the past month of my life, I have started to understand what I really want. (No confessions here...I'm not secretly dating anyone nor have I fallen for anyone, just been exposed to some new ideas in the dating arena...and by ideas, I mean boys that I've had to figure out how to wrap my head around.) And maybe, when I find this hypothetical guy, I will have to justify it to my friends or family because he isn't going to be exactly what they will think I should want. And maybe it is a little scary because it's not what I think I should want. But, so what? Is it tough to actually want what I want and let go of the images that I had created in my head of the person I thought I wanted to find? Of course. But can I tell that I'm going to be happier in the end by doing so? Absolutely.

And, as if that wasn't enough fun for one evening, when I got home, in preparation for tomorrow's concert which I will be attending, I downloaded Ian Axel's new album, This Is the New Year, and the first song on the album is called "Leave Me Alone". While the lyrics may sound slightly bitter, given the conversation I had just had, they were so in line with all of my thoughts. Isn't it about being honest, after all? Honest with others, but more importantly, honest with ourselves.

Leave Me Alone

It's not easy when you say that you're sorry.
It's not easy when you say you don't love me at all.

Let's be honest. You don't care that you hurt me.
Let's be honest. I don't care that you're lonely.

You don't love me anymore.
You keep coming back for more.
If you don't love me anymore, leave me alone.

We're not dating. Who cares what your mom says?
We're not dating. You can sleep in your own bed.

You don't lovely me anymore.
You keep coming back for more.
If you don't love me anymore, leave me alone.
Leave me alone.

Whatever I do, whatever I say, it doesn't matter anyway.
You want me to move, you want me to stay, you won't be happy either way.
Take all your s@#$. I'm over it.

It's not easy. It's not easy. It's not easy. It's not easy. It's not easy.

You don't lovely me anymore.
You keep coming back for more.
If you don't love me anymore, leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave alone.

blogs bring people together

2011-02-14T22:45:00.000-07:00

Technology is such an interesting thing. People like to pontificate about how technology is suffocating humanity. I have a sister who doesn't say exactly that, but she cannot understand my love of twitter and blogs, etc, etc.

I've written before about why I started blogging, but I don't know if I've ever fully described how blogging has enriched my life through the people I've met as a result of it. The impetus for this post? The book club I attended yesterday with a number of other bloggers. All of us strangers. Brought together by technology.

I've followed Meg's blog for a while now. I think part of what I like so much about her is her honesty and the way she shares that honesty through words and pictures and poetry, etc, etc. I'm a fan. She decided to start a book club to meet some new people in the city. While I'm always apprehensive about these things, I've had enough experiences meeting fellow bloggers and all have been good, so I jumped on the chance.

Of course, when yesterday rolled around, part of me was tempted to not go. It would have been so easy to not show up. But then I thought about how much courage it probably took to invite a bunch of random people to a book club and I just couldn't not go. So, there we were. Thirteen strangers. Brought together by a desire to meet some new people...and maybe also getting to meet Meg in real life. She just seems like someone anyone would want to be friends with. (These are the things I say that make my sister think I'm crazy.)

And yes, it was scary to just show up. And of course I was worried about making a good first impression. I always worry about those things. And maybe it took a little bit to get warmed up, but we did get warmed up and I met some very nice, very intelligent, very interesting people. People who live in my neighborhood, even. People I would have likely never met had it not been for this book club.

the book club
(names to follow next month)

And so once again, I'm grateful for technology and how it can bring people together.

And now, in honor of this, a quick homage to my blogger friends who are now real life friends:

My favorite marathon buddy, Anne
My other Moab partners (Anne was there, too), Christy and Jen
Hannah who was one of my favorite Utah (now Texas) bloggers (who I also ran a race with)
And then there are all of the bloggers I met through Jill's blogger parties; I still read most of the blogs of the people I met through that one party back in 2007
The people I met through the first blogger book club I went to (admittedly, I only ever read one of the books and didn't actually read it in time for the discussion)

sitcky

2011-02-13T14:06:00.044-07:00

Oh, the joys of four year olds.

This week I wasn't teaching, which meant I was on bathroom/crisis duty. Totally fine. There are two of us in the class for a reason. Eleven kids...it's a lot. I don't know how pre-school teachers do it.

As I was sitting there, watching the kids, managing the couple who are just a little more wiggly than the others, I saw something that didn't look right out of the corner of my eye. Rebecca* has a habit of sucking on a little piece of her hair (I won't comment on how I feel about that habit...), but something looked off. Her hair had a light blue streak going through it...

GUM!!!

I was out the door with her in about 2.2 seconds. And this is when you know you're starting to love a kid. We went into the bathroom and I ever-so-slowly got all of the gum out of her hair. With my fingers. Her gum. My fingers. And somehow, I was okay dealing with this...which is a small miracle considering that I don't generally like children I'm not related to/that don't belong to my friends. That is love.

The best part was, after I had gotten it out, she was upset that I wanted her to spit the rest of it out. "My daddy gave it to me!" But apparently I really do have the "angry mom" face down because she handed it over as soon as she saw it.

When I saw the Primary President after church (who incidentally saw me going into the bathroom with Rebecca), she joked about my "baptism by fire". And then she said, "All you need next week is a bloody nose, and I think you're initiation will be complete." I think I can pass on full initiation, thanks.

Next week, we will be starting with potty and gum checks. And maybe I'll be purchasing some tissues for my purse...just so I'm prepared for the inevitable bloody nose. And maybe some wipes.

*Name has been changed for obvious reasons.

nine miles

2011-02-12T20:28:00.001-07:00

Let's talk about how much I didn't want to run this morning. And how much I didn't want to get out of bed early enough to get my run in before mentoring. And how many times I didn't run this week when I should have.

I should have been out the door of my apartment by 8 am. I got out of my door at 9 am. First, I couldn't make myself get out of bed. My head hurt. My stomach was a little queasy. My knee still isn't feeling great. Every excuse...and those excuses were almost enough. Almost.

When I finally did get out the door, I knew it was going to be rough. I was not going to have time to do any walking. And nine miles with no walking when my longest run this round of training was a six miler three weeks ago was not going to be easy. Or fun.

I warmed up on my way to Central Park. My plan was to do two laps around the Reservoir and then the six mile loop. I headed up to the Reservoir which took a little bit of time because the way up was super icy only to discover that the trail around it was basically a skating rink. Not sure why I thought it might not be, but 10 minutes into my run, I had yet to actually do any running. The minutes were ticking away. New plan: the six mile Central Park Loop and then I'd figure it out. I had six miles to think about it. Plenty of time.

The first three miles of the run were great. I was pacing a little faster than I had anticipated. Nothing was hurting. It wasn't too cold. And then, when I hit mile four and had yet to see a street vendor with water, I started to worry a little. I hadn't brought any water with me, just money, because there are always street vendors and that way I don't have to carry it. But, just as I was thinking I would have to take a little detour to find a bodega, I saw a vendor on the horizon. I took a quick break to buy water and then allowed myself a little walking time to drink some and down two Shot Blocks. And then, I was off again.

The rest of the loop went off without a hitch. I mean, there were a couple of hills that made me want to scream and, at one point, I thought I was going to puke (too much water too fast), but then everything balanced out and I was fine. I decided I would just do the last three miles on CPW, so when I finished the loop, I headed south again. I was amazed to discover that I was still pacing at my goal pace. Mile seven was quick. Mile eight my feet were starting to hurt, so I allowed myself to walk a quarter of it. And then, I was back running for the last mile.

I cooled down on my way home. Because of my late start, I was only going to have 30 minutes to shower and get out the door--no time to eat, which is never a good idea after running that distance--so I grabbed a chocolate milk on my way home and chugged it. Some of you might think that's weird (I did too the first time it was given out at the end of a race), but it really is a perfect recovery drink; carbs, protein, a little fat...exactly what I needed.

I got home and discovered the pain in my feet was a result of a couple of blisters. With no time to deal with those, I was grateful for my oh-so-comfy Uggs to throw on. I rushed out the door to get to mentoring, only to discover that my trains weren't running...so I ended up being an hour late anyway. It's a good thing I didn't know that my trains weren't going to be running, or I probably wouldn't have gone running, but I'm so glad I did.

I've said it before, and I'm sure I'll say it again. There is nothing like running that helps me forget all my stupid drama, all of body issues, and just appreciate how great my life is. And I just don't think that starting my Saturday mornings with a run through Central Park will ever get old. Seriously. What a fun life I have!

Today's top songs:

Dancing in Heaven - Q-Feel
Stereo Love - Edward Maya & Vika Jigulina
Alors on danse - Stromae
Teenage Dream - Glee Cast
Feel It In My Bones (feat. Tegan and Sara) - Tiesto
Not Broken - Goo Goo Dolls
Sick - The Lovemakers
Mercy - Duffy
Superstar (feat. Matthew Santos) - Lupe Fiasco
S&M - Rihanna (p.s. in case you didn't get it from the title, this song is super trashy)
I Like It (feat. Pitbull) - Enrique Iglesia
Lollipop (Candyman) - Aqua

My goal for next week: following my training schedule every day but Wednesday. (I'm going to see Ian Axel that night with Kelly...working out is not going to happen...unless I somehow manage to get up really early, which I'm not planning on doing.)

my latest read

2011-02-08T21:43:00.002-07:00

A while ago, I read this post on one of my favorite blogs about a book club that this blogger will be starting. She's a New Yorker and I plan on attending. It will be a bunch of people I don't know, but isn't that what makes life fun.

Anyway, the book she chose was The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Schaffer and Ann Barrows. I had never heard of it, nor did I research it. I just trusted that it would be good, purchased it on my Kindle, and jumped right in.

It was so good. Beautifully written and so enjoyable. I underlined (digitally, of course) so many passages. One of my favorite is about marriage. I only hope I'm so lucky to feel exactly like this someday:

All my life I thought that the story was over when the hero and heroine were safely engaged--after all, what's good enough for Jane Austen ought to be good enough for anyone. But it's a lie. The story is about to begin, and every day will be a new piece of the plot.

Isn't that a lovely thought?

There's another one that I also loved, probably because it was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment:

Think of it! We could have gone on longing for one another and pretending not to notice forever. This obsession with dignity can ruin your life if you let it.

And finally, this one that just perfectly articulated how I feel about marriage:

I don't want to be married just to be married. I can't think of anything lonelier than spending the rest of my life with someone I can't talk to, or worse, someone I can't be silent with.

If you're looking for something to read that is both well written and absolutely delightful with brilliant characters, I highly recommend this book.

back in the saddle

2011-02-07T20:40:00.001-07:00

My knee is still not 100%, but it's been a lot better. While I still have some sniffles, my cold has generally subsided. And with a half marathon a little less than six weeks away, I just couldn't give myself any more time off running. I decided on Saturday that I would start again today and I was actually really excited about the prospect.

And then, last night, I got to bed late. I tossed and turned for about two hours...realizing about 30 minutes in that my restlessness was likely due to the large about of Diet Coke I consumed at the Super Bowl party I went to. I haven't really been drinking it lately (not for any particular reason, I've just kind of stopped), and so the 4+ glasses I had of it did a number. The last time I remember looking at the clock it was about 2:30 am. And then, at 5:30 my body decided to wake up. I managed to get another hour or so of sleep, but four hours the night before I was going to start running was not really ideal.

At work today I was dragging a little. Add to that my brilliant idea to wear my new shoes. While lovely and very comfortable, the heels were doing my knee any favors. Of course, being the oh-so-smart-and-practical woman that I am, I totally didn't change my shoes even though I have four or five other pairs under my desk.

So, come quitting time, the last thing I wanted to do was run. By the time I walked in my door, I was exhausted. My head hurt. My knee ached. I was beat. But then that little voice that I love so much started talking to me; whispering about how good I would feel once I was done, helping me recall just how not fun running a half marathon untrained can be (I never want to make that mistake again), reminding me that the weather outside was actually more amenable than it had been in weeks. And for some reason, the realization that I wouldn't have to put on three layers to survive my run did it. Oh, that and the decision that if I went running I would let myself get a slice of pizza for dinner. I popped an Advil cold, changed my clothes, put my keys and some money in my little pocket and I was off.

Since I've already done a 6-miler, I decided that jumping right in where I'm supposed to be would be no big deal because I only had to run 4.5 tonight. I went up to 110th, back down to 65th and up again; 90 blocks in all. My shuffle gave me exactly what I needed when I needed it. It was a perfect run, given the circumstance...right up until the last 1/4 mile when suddenly my shuffle stopped cooperating and my foot decided to land in a huge puddle. But even that worked out as it motivated me to run the last 1/4 mile hard so I could get home and out of my gross NYC puddle sodden shoe. (I love this city, but I have never lived in a dirtier place.)

And the songs of the night...the ones that came on at exactly the right time:

Stripped - Natasha Bedingfield
Dog Days Are Over - Florence + The Machine
Break Your Heart (feat. Ludacris) - Taio Cruz
You Make My Dreams - Hall & Oates (I know, weird, but seriously...it was awesome. Every time I hear this song I picture the scene in (500) Days of Summer and I smile. I mean, how could you not?)

unexpected blessings

2011-02-06T20:40:00.075-07:00

In my church, we all share the responsibilities. We don't have paid clergy in our congregations, and so we all pitch in. While I've been a member of my congregation for about seven months (crazy!), I was not given anything to do until just a couple of weeks ago, when I was asked if I would be willing to teach the 4-year-olds. I said yes. I was happy to have something to do. But I was also a little nervous.

As those of you who know me know, I adore children...the ones that are related to me. Other people's kids? Not so much. Well, that's not a blanket statement. I like children who belong to my friends, too. Needless to say, teaching a bunch of kids who belong to people I don't know very well, if at all, made me a little nervous. I wondered, when I was asked to do this, if maybe it was my punishment for not liking all kids, or for judging some of their parents. (I try not to judge...but when you see parents totally ignoring their kids, it's hard not to.)

So, on Sunday, when I got into sharing time and sat down next to my row of ELEVEN 4-year-olds, I was still a little overwhelmed. It was my first Sunday with them. My co-teacher was out of town. I'd never done this before and I didn't even know these poor kids' names. Not to mention that I knew, after sharing time, I was going to be spending 40 minutes with them attempting to teach them about God. Thankfully, the little girl I sat next to was as sweet as could be. I watched the kids. Some were acting out a little, but they are four and I was trying to be patient. Eventually, we were singing and smiling. Things were going along just fine. I sat there thinking to myself that this was going to be all right.

And then, sweet little Catherine* (the darling girl sitting next to me) looked up at me with tears welling up in her big puppy dog eyes. I don't know if it's from my years as an aunt or just instinct, but somehow I knew that she had had an accident. I asked her what was wrong and in a very small, very embarrassed voice she whispered that she had wet her pants.

Now, you might be thinking that this was going to be the end of me; I mean, I was already nervous about dealing with these kids (aka carrier monkeys) who don't belong to me, and worried that I wouldn't like them at all. But seeing this sweet little girl so sad just melted my heart. All I wanted to do was pick her up and give her a hug. (I didn't. I have limits. I mean, life and death situations? Sure, I would have picked her up. But she's not my flesh and blood and she was going to be fine.) I sent someone to go find her mom and I just kept telling her that it was no big deal. She was going to be fine. And it wasn't and she was.

That one moment suddenly transformed these little 4-year-olds from scary little carrier monkeys into sweet little children who deserve every happiness and all the love there is to have. You'd think it would be the opposite, right? The rest of the day went off without a hitch. These eleven 4-year-olds are just about the best behaved (with the exception of one or two) 4-year-olds I have ever seen. Seriously. And even the ones who aren't well behaved weren't that bad.

When it was all over, and I was waiting with the last child for his dad to come get him, I realized that somehow I had seriously started to love each of these kids in less than two hours. I was shocked. I still am. And so very grateful. And to think it was all because one little girl had an accident.

*Name has been changed...she's a 4-year-old and not mine.

shoes

2011-02-05T21:37:00.002-07:00

I love them. And today, I went to purchase a pair I've been wanting for a couple of months. My new favorite brand of shoes is Miz Mooz. They are comfortable and made for city living; heels that stand up to the stairs and cobblestone, as well as the miles of walking we do here in New York. I actually discovered them a while ago, but they are now my go-to brand.

Anyway, I decided that I would go to my favorite place to buy them (other than Nordstrom), Infinity Shoes on Broadway just south of 4th Street. I walked in and found the boots I wanted. I looked at the price; $50 less than I thought they were. So, what does a mathematically inclined girl do. Realize that she has an additional $50 to spend. And of course, because it was "extra" money (my dad loves this logic), I decided I could splurge on a pair that I didn't need. (Yes, I needed the black boots.)

No buyer's remorse here. Just excited to wear the new oxfords to church tomorrow!

and the winner is...

2011-02-03T17:32:00.002-07:00

Jennifer Lee said...

Free stuff? Sign me up. And I agree that those plates are very love-worthy.

01 February, 2011

Congratulations!!! I know where you live, so I'll send you the coupon!

not really good at anything

2011-02-02T18:53:00.001-07:00

I grew up in a household of varying interests with a mother who ensured that we were always learning/doing/seeing something new and different. Over the years (childhood until now) I've learned and done a lot! I learned how to cook and sew. I learned about music. I played multiple sports. I took dance classes. I was in gifted and talented programs that exposed me to different languages and advanced math. I somehow got this crazy travel bug and decided to move to Belgium as a 14-year-old high school student. I was a cheerleader. I swam. I taught swimming lessons. I became pretty good at step aerobics.

I babysat and loved (and still do love) taking care of my nieces and nephew. I skied. I backpacked through Europe. I ice-skated and roller-bladed. I learned how to drive a stick shift and then took those skills off-roading. I hiked. I learned to love reading. I sang in choirs. I took all kinds of random classes. I painted ceramics. I arranged flowers. I took cake decorating classes. I bought books about art. I studied French. I learned how to change my oil and my brake pads and rotate tires. I became handy when I bought my first house. I went to beauty school and learned how to help people with their skin and apply makeup. I got certified in scuba diving. I moved to Hawaii for a couple of months. I discovered photography. I learned to enjoy running. I discovered a love of writing in college and rediscovered it through this blog. And I still do a lot of these things. And that isn't the end of the things I'd like to learn to do.

I want to learn at least one more language. I want to take some kind of music lessons (violin? guitar?). I want to go to culinary school. I sometimes think about getting a PhD (once the loans are all paid off, of course). I want to take a watercolor class. I would love to start rock climbing.

My point? I seriously love learning, but I never become really good at anything. Sure, I have some skills and I'm better at some things than I am at others, but I just can't be bothered to become an expert in anyone thing. I couldn't even be bothered to get really good grades when I was perfectly capable of doing so.

For a long time this really bugged me. I wanted to be really good at something. I finally got over that when I realized that becoming an expert in any one thing would likely mean sacrificing the other things that I love. It's funny how there just really is no life without sacrifice. And so I've learned to be okay with my mediocrity (okay, I don't think I'm mediocre in everything, but you get my point). And I figured out a career path that would allow me to continue to do all of the things I love doing (meaning, something I enjoy enough, doesn't take over my life, and earns a good income). I admire people who love one thing so much that they can sacrifice everything else to do that. That is not me.

On Sunday night, when my girlfriends were over for our little makeup night, Maria asked me if I had taken this picture of the Conservatory Garden I have hanging on my wall. I replied that I had. After which Jenn stated that one of her favorite things about me is how multi-talented I am. This made me smile. Apparently the one thing I am really good at is collecting talents...even if I'm not the best at any one of them and even if I never will be because I don't have time.

time for a csn giveaway - contest closed

2011-02-01T16:55:00.002-07:00

Normally, I'm not a huge fan of doing advertising on my blog (like in a post), but when I got approached by this company to do one, I looked a a bunch of their stuff and thought, "I would actually buy stuff off this site." So, here's the deal. CSN Stores has over 200 online stores where you can find everything from stylish modern dining room furniture to cute cookware, chic lighting pieces, baby gear, luxury items, lighting, luggage, toys and more!

All you have to do is leave a comment on this post. You'll have two days. I'll pick a winner Thursday evening, 7 pm EST. You'll get a $35 gift certificate to use as you wish. Personally, I kind of love these dessert plates.

the life of a former esthetician

2011-01-30T19:09:00.001-07:00

My personal MAC collection

As many of you know, once upon a time I was an esthetician. This had been a dream of mine as a girl, and so after I finished undergrad (well, most of it), I went to beauty school in Arizona. One of the benefits of this experience was that I learned how to apply makeup. I mean, don't get me wrong, I had done my makeup before I went to beauty school, but this was different. This was brushes, and tints, and shades, and techniques. This was for black and white photos, color photos, weddings, costume parties. It was not something I learned easily or quickly, but I did learn.

Since going through the makeup classes in beauty school, I have become an observer of faces and how makeup is applied. I love looking at prints adds and dissecting the techniques. I try new things every so often. I update my colors every six months or so. MAC is my brand of choice. I love the colors and the price point. Great product that's accessible to the masses...and you can try it on.

Anyway, a few days ago Jenn asked me if I would help her with her eye makeup. I said sure. In truth, this makes me a little nervous because, while I do my own makeup daily, I don't do other people's makeup very often anymore...and eyes are the hardest because everyone's eyes are shaped so differently...and let's not forget that the lovely Jenna had her makeup done by uber professionals when she attended the Emmys. Anyway, we decided we'd have a little makeup party tonight, so Jenn, Sara, Maria, and Jenna all came over and I busted out my own person MAC counter.

It was so fun to push myself. It was fun to be doing makeup again. It was fun to transform how my friends looked. Not that they didn't look great before. (I have really pretty friends.) But to just show them how to change it up. Or how to make their eyes look bigger. Or bring out the gold in their irises. It was really quite a fun time...once I got over my nerves. I just hope they enjoyed it as much as I did! And I hope MAC appreciates the sales they're going to get tomorrow.

P.S. Even with all of my experience, I still get intimidated when I go to the MAC counter (I never tell them I was an esthetician), but it's worth it to learn new techniques and find new colors. And if you feel the same way I do, scheduling a makeup lesson is a great way to go.

christmas (only a month or so late)

2011-01-29T15:28:00.000-07:00

I know those of you who follow me on Twitter know about my awesome adventures with canceled flights and the resulting extended vacation, but now some pics from the trip. I had so much fun hanging out with my fam and I'm so excited Justin and Cherity and kids are moving to this side of the Mississippi in just a few months. And now, a series of photos and captions (this is more for my family than anything):

We got a lot of snow the first couple days I was there...Justin got lots of exercising plowing the driveway. He's so helpful!

Cherity hanging out in the snow...we were having a great time sledding!

Do you think he was having fun? Sledding with kids is so entertaining!

Hope thought making snow angels was the best!

Tannon, on the other hand, was having a great time playing dead. Such a boy!

The family does love to bowl...does that make us trashy?

Ever independent, little miss munchkin wanted to do everything on her own, including lift her own bowling ball.

Pretending to sleep so Santa could come...it didn't work.

My cute brother and his family - love the Christmas jammies!

Cookies for Santa...what I didn't get a picture of was the plate five minutes later, after the dog ate the cookies. It's a good thing we had extras.

All ready for the kiddies to come down the stairs...I helped build the dollhouse. Playing Santa is much more fun than just getting gifts.

A new ski jacket to go with his new skis and season pass. He's lucky his dad like skiing so much!

This year we did the gingerbread houses right. Justin and Cherity constructed them the night before so they could set up and then we decorated them. Much better.

Ice Skating! This little one LOVED it!

Justin having so fun helping Hope...until she got one of those little walkers, at which point she wanted nothing to do with anyone.

Tannon, not so patiently, waiting for the zamboni to finish smoothing the ice.

Such a little sass! And not even three years old.

~~New Year's Eve bowling in Utah with the New York friends.~~

~~Unfortunately~~ Fortunately, no one got a shot of me sliding down the lane when I got a little too enthusiastic...

if you're wondering

2011-01-27T19:05:00.001-07:00

I realize that I have not been blogging about running. And there's a reason for that. I haven't been running. And there's a reason for that...

When I was in Utah, I had a lovely day skiing up at Sundance with the little brother. While conditions were less than ideal, it was great to be back on the slopes. Until I fell and twisted my knee. I'd love to tell you this fall was the result of me pushing myself to my limits on some black diamond. Though I did fall more than a few times coming down various black diamond runs, this fall, the knee twisting fall, was just me being a little bit klutzy. Well, and some d-bag standing in a really stupid place waiting to get in line to go up the lift. I thought, with my stellar skills, I could just squeeze past him into line...but alas, there was a pole in the ground separating the lines and my right ski caught it while my left ski kept going and, before I realized what had happened, I was in the splits.

Now, you might be wondering why, if that happened in December, it would have just started bugging me now and you would be right to wonder as much. The truth is, it's been bugging me since it happened, but I just pushed through it because it didn't hurt while I was actually running. And then, a little over a week ago, the morning after that fantastic run (the one with reverse splits and one of my best easy miles), I had been sitting for a while at work and when I got up to go grab a drink, pain shot through my leg and it almost gave way. I decided, at that point, that I probably needed to let it heal if I am going to be able to run this half marathon in March. It's feeling better, although today was not great. I'm pretty frustrated with the whole thing, to be perfect frank. And so, tomorrow, I probably need to have it checked out...

Which brings me to an entirely different subject. Moving somewhere new is not super easy in terms of all the new people you have to find; dentist, stylist, doctors, etc, etc, etc. Any recommendations from those of you who have moved a lot of the best way to find these people?

Back to the running. While I am frustrated, I still have two months and I was doing pretty well with the training, so I am not too worried. And my body has always been really good at healing, so...there is hope.

P.S. For those of you that deal with chronic knee pain, my sincerest sympathies!

eighteen years of memories

2011-01-25T01:00:00.197-07:00

Fifteen years ago today, almost to the hour that I started writing this, my mom died. I've written a number of posts that reference her in some way or another (some about her, some about me missing her), but what I realized in reading through these posts in the wee hours of the morning (which is why I'm still awake right now) is that I've never made an effort to document my favorite things about her and I think it's time I did. So, if you didn't know my mom (which is the vast majority of you), you might just want to skip this blog post because it's really for me. Or you can read it. Either way.

I'm going to start with a disclaimer. My mother was amazing, but she wasn't perfect. She had flaws and my childhood had some very hard moments. And when I say hard, I don't mean parents getting divorced hard, I mean really, truly, terrifyingly hard. And part of that was due to some not so great choices my mom made. Having said that, you mothers who fear that you are permanently jacking up your kids, don't worry about it. You probably aren't. And chances are, if you love them, and do your best to like them (two very different emotions), they'll probably turn out okay and only need a little bit of therapy...which really, who doesn't? And even though I only had 18 years with my mom, and even though some of those years were really hard, and even though she didn't always make great choices, I still feel like I won the Mom Lottery.

My mom instilled a love of the outdoors in me. For a number of years, during two weeks each summer, she was a camp lifeguard. She volunteered as a counselor at Two Sentinels Girl Scout Camp. All of the counselors had nicknames that they went by during camp; hers was Jaws. And because she was a counselor, I got to start going to camp several years before I was actually a Girl Scout. Camping became part of my life. As I got older, I discovered how much I loved backpacking, too. And this all started with a mom who taught me by example. That said, don't think she didn't have her butane curling iron with her...my mother always had her hair done and her makeup on in public.

And this is the fun part about doing this...I had completely forgotten about my mom's butane curling iron that could always be found in her purse, you know, just in case.

Oh, and in addition to the years of the butane curling iron, she always had a perm.

My mom was a CRAZY driver, and I kind of love that about her. Not because she lacked actual driving ability...she just had so many other things to do that she couldn't be bothered to pay that much attention; like apply her mascara, curl her hair, suck on her unicorn lollipops. Which brings me to something that I always thought was weird, but always loved, too. My mom loved this one type of unicorn lollipop. To this day, any time I see one (like the other day at Dylan's), I think of my mom and wonder if maybe it's the type she would have liked.

Still on the driving note, one night, after picking my sister up from gymnastics (side note - my mom was unbelievably committed to all of our commitments), we were headed home and the three of us younger kids were fighting in the back seat of our white station wagon about who knows what. My mom missed a turn because she was yelling at us, and when she went to turn the car around, she ended up backing into a ditch...like, a canal type ditch. We were totally stuck. And the best part was the bumper sticker we had on that car: "If you don't like the way I drive, stay off the sidewalk." I'm sure the tow-truck driver got a good laugh out of that.

My mom loved flowers. I'm not sure if this came before or after she met her best friend, Sydne, who is an amazing florist. But she loved them. Gardenias in particular. When I was deciding not to get married and walking into the building where I would have the final conversation with the soon-to-be ex-fiance--the one that would require me to hand back my ring--I walked past a gardenia bush in full bloom. I picked one and held it in my hand as I tearfully ended my engagement. And it felt like my mom was there, with me. (Okay, so this memory isn't so much about my mom, but whatever...I feel like she was part of it...plus this is my blog post, so whatever.)

Throughout my childhood, flowers were a part of life. I remember more than a few days when I just didn't feel like going to school was going to be something I wanted to do, my mom would sometimes let me skip so I could go over to Sydne's and help with whatever flower arranging was being done. (It's no wonder that, to this day, I love getting flowers.) It was during these moments that I learned how to be a friend, both from my mom's example, and from Sydne's. I learned about unconditional love in friendships. And with all of her skills learned from Sydne, she was able to make the flower crowns all of the senior cheerleaders wore for the homecoming football game.

My mother was an amazing seamstress; a perfectionist really. My senior year in high school, I was looking for a dress for homecoming and it was down to the wire...one week left. Thankfully, I managed to find a black dress that I loved. As luck would have it, my best friend found the same dress on the same night. I was devastated. And it wasn't like I could show up wearing the same dress Ashley was wearing, since we were going in the same group. My mother didn't miss a beat. We hopped in the car and headed to the fabric store where we found a pattern and some beautiful black taffeta. In a week, she had sewn me a dress that I loved. Of course, in true Kim fashion, she was finishing the hand-sewn hem as my date walked up to the door (the dress was on me). To this day, that is my favorite dress that I've ever worn.

While I don't have a digital photo of my homecoming dress, she made this one, and just about every other dress I wore before I turned 10.

My mom loved holidays. Loved. Them. Christmas was her favorite. And she insisted on having a flocked tree (seen below in the background). We also had a kids' tree. It was a big deal when I was finally old enough to help decorate the "nice" tree. She taught me the order in which to put the decorations on the tree (lights, bows, ornaments) so that you ended with a perfectly and evenly decorated tree. And she made most of our ornaments. My favorite are these lovely ceramic ornaments that she hand painted of various Christmas scenes.

Please ignore the weird posing going on...that's what 16-year-olds do.

Incidentally, my mom's last Christmas was the Christmas of my freshman year of college. She had not been feeling well, but it was so important to her that we came home to a decorated house. She actually hired my friend Wendy (far right) to help her get everything done before my sister and I got home from college. The night before we got home, she'd been making sure everything looked perfect, so she lit all of the candles. Well, she forgot about one of them and ended up scorching a little ledge and baluster in our living room. Kind of a classic Kim thing to do.

She was also an amazing cook/baker. Back when I was in elementary school (pre lawsuits and childhood obesity) she would bake a huge batch of her delicious sugar cookies (someday Alicia and I will sell these in our bakery) for each of our birthdays and would bring them into school with frosting bags and tips for our classes to decorate. For all her flaws, my mother had the patience of a saint. My favorite things that she cooked/baked: bar-b-que chicken, beef stroganoff, English muffin pizzas (for all of you mothers out there with those favorite recipes locked away in your heads...please write them down somewhere or you might end up with kids who are so sad to not have them; the pizza sauce recipe is gone forever), frosted nut cookies, my favorite punch base, apricot chicken, and swiss cheese chicken. She was alway happy to have us in the kitchen.

She was my biggest cheerleader and my best critic. She taught me to be honest with myself and others. She taught me to accept the consequences of my choices. She taught me that things always work out and that I shouldn't borrow trouble (something I still haven't learned). She was generous with her time and her love. She taught me that trust and love should go hand in hand. She also taught me that swearing at your kids won't permanently damage them...and can actually be kind of hilarious. And that you can still love someone even when you don't like them very much at a given moment.

Okay, so the more I write, the more there is to write, but for now I will end with some of the snapshots of my mom that seem to be embedded in my mind. Snapshots of her out in our pool teaching swim lessons. Of her speeding down our court in the Party Van blasting Neil Diamond. Of her telling me to wake her up if my friends and I decided to go TP-ing in the middle of the night so she would know where we were. Of her excitement when I came home after cheerleading tryouts and I told her I made it because she knew how much I wanted it. Of her coaching my swim/basketball/soccer/softball teams over the years. Of her laughing. Of her voice. Of her playing with my oldest nephew, the only grandbaby she got to meet in this life. Of her eating frozen orange Kool-Aid and cocktail onions. Of her lying in a hospital bed. Of her sitting on the couch in the den, ready for me to come in a share whatever burden was weighing me down on any given day. And finally, of her bending over her huge purse to look for something on the last day I saw her alive.

ETA: I am loving the little memories some of you are sharing! If you have a memory you want to share, please do!

it's all in how you position the offer

2011-01-24T23:58:00.002-07:00

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not very good at accepting help. I like to think I'm perfectly capable of handling my problems myself--which I generally can (I don't have issues...). Oh, and I hate inconveniencing people. Hate. It. There are a number of things that have made into this person who wants to do everything on her own. I won't get into the details, though, because that isn't what this post is about.

Yesterday, though, I found myself having a conversation at the end of which the person with whom I was speaking made the general offer, "If you every need anything, don't hesitate to ask." And my thought? "Yeah...fat chance."

Then, a couple of hours later, my home teachers came to visit me. (Incidentally, and having nothing to do with this post, they came bearing a demi-baguette and passionfruit panna cotta from Silver Moon Bakery...amazing!) I really like my home teachers. They are just good guys. In fact, after the big snow storm, I got a phone call from one of them just to make sure I didn't need anything. I didn't (I was in Utah), but it was super thoughtful.

Anyway, as is typical of home teachers, at the end of their visit they asked me if I needed anything. I instantly said, "No. I'm good. I'll let you know if I do need something, though." P.S. I don't make a habit of lying, but I must admit that was a big fat lie. I had no intention of calling them if I ever needed anything.

And then, one of them rephrased the question and asked, "If you had to ask for one thing, what would it be?" I suppose I could have said something like, "I wouldn't." But I was caught so off guard by the follow-up, that suddenly I found myself giving them a reply. A real one. I don't think I had even realized that there was something I could ask for, something I needed. Apparently there was.

I learned something so valuable. Well, two things. The first is that it's okay to ask for help, even if it's someone you don't know that well, and even if the help is minor. People like feeling useful. The second and, in my opinion, more valuable lesson is the value of effective positioning. Essentially, in the case of offering help, there is a way to ask a person if she needs help that will help her know that you are serious. While my offers to help others are always sincere, I'm guessing most people feel a lot like I do. They don't want to inconvenience anyone. Like me, they might not want to admit that, while they are handling everything on their own (and could probably continue to do so), it might actually be nice to have someone in the ring with them.

And just because I was listening to Greg Laswell while I was writing this and because I feel like this song kind of goes with the post, here you go:

mormon speed dating

2011-01-23T19:21:00.000-07:00

Do I really need to say anything else?

I spent three hours last night speed dating. I wish I had some good stories, but honestly, it was pretty fun and not especially eventful. Here's what I will say...

25 three minute dates in one night; I just met my quota for the year.
A little kindness goes a long way - it doesn't matter if you are not interested in someone and you can tell that from the first moment you meet someone...there's never an excuse to be a jerk.
Don't judge a book by its cover - I was surprised by how often I was surprised by the personalities that came with the looks. Both for better and worse. I probably shouldn't be surprised by this anymore, but I am.
Three minutes can be very long...or very short.
There are still some really good guys out there.

my park

2011-01-19T20:40:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this post is way late in coming, but I just realized that there has been a recent dearth of photos on the blog, so we will rectify that situation now. One Sunday in October, when I still had church in the afternoon, I decided to go walking in Central Park in the morning. I grabbed my camera and was off. And here is what I got to see...in my park (all pictures are as shot...part of why it took me so long to post these...I wanted to edit them).

How fun is it that I get to say that Central Park is my park? How very surreal, too? Anyway, if you ever get a chance to visit NYC, don't just spend your time in the touristy part of the park...make your way up to the north end, my end. There is so much to see. I love it!

I know everyone loves Poets Walk in CP, but the Conservatory Garden is my favorite spot. So romantic. So European. I think my next first New York kiss shall be here...now how to facilitate that?

twists in the universe

2011-01-19T19:18:00.002-07:00

No, this isn't a post about my astrological sign changing (I'm a scorpio no matter what anyone says).

I was at work on a Tuesday last month when I got a phone call from a girl I grew up with. I had run into her at church a few weeks earlier and we had chatted for a bit. They moved away from the Creek when I was about 13 (I think). Anyway, she was calling me because she had tickets to go see Rain (a Beatles tribute band on Broadway) and she was supposed to go with her brother who was in town but she wasn't going to be able to make it, making me the only other person he knows in NYC besides his sister. And we're the same age so we were inthe same peer group growing up. She asked me if I wanted to see it with him. Amazingly (this was pre my "no plans during the week" phase), I didn't have plans and I thought it would be fun to hear the Beatles covered by a band who has been doing it for years, so I agreed to go.

I have to admit, I was a little nervous to see him. He was Beau. It had been at least 15 years since I'd last seen him. I got to the theater and waited outside in the freezing cold for him. His sister told me what he was wearing, but she didn't have to. He seriously looked exactly the same, just older. We had a little bit of time before the show started, so we headed to Cosi for hot chocolate. It was seriously so weird to be standing in a Cosi in Times Square with Beau.

Here's the thing. I knew Beau during the most painful of my adolescent years. Those horrible, awkward, tween years. The parental divorce years. Middle school, acne, braces, etc. That's a big part of why I was nervous. It's scary seeing someone who only remembers you from, what you consider, some of the worst years of your life. But seeing him, and talking to him, and dancing to the Beatles with him was so fun and oddly therapeutic. He told me about his crazy life (he's basically homeless and spends his time between various countries--mainly South American ones--getting whatever kind of work he can get as needed). I told him about mine. Corporate job working for The Man, paying rent, brunching with my girlfriends. We are about as opposite as two people can get. And yet, there we were. Thrown together by some weird twist in the universe. Catching up. Laughing about our crazy childhood.

It was an oddly emotional experience; as in I had a lot of emotions. And a lot of thoughts. We're so different, there's no way you could even begin to compare our lives. And I think that was part of it. It was one of those moments when I felt so very content with all of my life choices. Not because they were better than his, but because they were mine. And because I am right where I have chosen to be. I'm not here by default. I saw what I wanted and I went after it...and I am continuing to do that every day. And he's in the same exact spot. And as much as I don't want his life, he doesn't want mine. And yet, sharing an evening together was so great.

I doubt I will ever see Beau again in my life, but I will never forget him and the things I learned about myself spending those few hours with him. I think sometimes it's so easy to get caught up in the comparisons to which similar lives lend themselves; "I wish I lived in that apartment, had that job, was dating that boy," etc, etc, etc. But sometimes it's nice to be reminded that, while I have been dealt a certain set of cards, I am the one choosing how to play them...and I'm pretty happy with how the game is going so far.

attitude

2011-01-17T21:29:00.001-07:00

I feel like I could probably post this same post every day and it would be applicable. That said, today it was especially applicable and I might as well write a little bit about this constant battle and the extra "help" that I feel like is with me in these "defining" moments. (Okay, so I don't know that the moments are really "defining" per se, but whatever.)

Anyway, I was up way too late last night and then, when I got up this morning, I had a waffle brunch to go to at my friend's apartment. Low key, but just the same, I was going on three day hair and really wanted to wash it before heading over. Now, I knew that once I took a shower today, it was unlikely that I would be doing any running afterward. But, since I've been trying to let my knee heal (I twisted it skiing and, while it's been fine running, it has been killing me to walk on it, so I thought it would probably be wise to give it some time), I wasn't super worried about missing my run today, except that I didn't want to lose the happy feelings I've been having about running.

So, when I went to take a shower and realized that the hot water was low (this has been happening lately and generally corrects itself after a couple of hours), I took that as a sign that I should go running later. I pulled my greasy hair into a bun and headed over to brunch.

As it happened, when I got home, I found out that the lack of hot water was a much bigger problem than I had realized. Clogged pipes or some such nonsense meant no hot water. My first reaction was that I wouldn't be able to go running and I probably wouldn't be able to go to work tomorrow because I would be so gross. Then sanity set in and I realized that I had lots of options. My initial thought was that I could go run on the treadmill at the gym and just shower there...but gym showers kind of gross me out (yes, more than my own filth). Then I texted Kelly. I figured I could take my stuff down to her apartment, drop it off, go for a run, and then shower and get ready there.

Because I had seen the lack of hot water earlier in the day as a "sign" that I should go running, I was determined to make it happen, and figured out a plan. Luckily, as I was getting ready to head out, I needed to wash my hands and, upon doing this, discovered the hot water was back on...so I didn't end up need Kelly's shower after all.

So, here's what I find so interesting about this whole thing, in hindsight. It's not that the lack of hot water was a sign; the running gods aren't looking down on me and making all the stars align so that I will go running. It's a matter of my own attitude. I'm not looking for excuses not to go running. I'm looking for ways to make it fit. And because that's my attitude, any unusual circumstances either look like signs I should go running or like signs that the universe is fighting against me, and then I want to fight back. "You think a little 20 degree weather is going to keep me from running today? I'll show you!"

And guess what. My run today was seriously amazing. My mile splits were the fastest they've been for an easy run and it felt great. My legs got a little crampy around mile 2, but I just pushed through and kept going. I know I've only done two speed workouts, but I think they really make a huge difference. It's like my muscles knew what they were supposed to do without my mind forcing it. I'm expecting great things from my tempo run tomorrow.

I decided to sprint my last 1/4 mile. Something about those 400 meter sprints has given me a lot more confidence in my ability to run faster and push harder. As I sped up, Daniel Bedingfield's acoustic version of Gotta Get Through This. How appropriate was that?

speed work

2011-01-17T01:11:00.001-07:00

While I've run several half marathons, I've never really worked on running them at any particular speed. My goal has only been to finish. Well, this year with the three halves I am planning to do, I want to get faster. I'm tired of running everything at the same exact pace. Enter speed work.

On Tuesday I was slated to run 6 x 400 meters, each one at a faster pace than I normally run. Again, I took to the streets where five street blocks are the equivalent of about 400 meters. The first 400 was a little rough. The entire stretch was a mental battle between me and my heart (my legs were fine at this point). My heart kept saying it couldn't be pushed longer while my mind argued that it could. Not only could it be longer, it could be pushed harder. The pace was pretty good (not great, but much faster than I normally run).

The next 400 was easier. It's amazing how much easier it is to sense a grade in the road when running rather than walking or driving. The second 400 was downhill and a little easier. Still, I wanted to quit after that. I was tired and just wanted to go home. But then I thought, "Well, I'm here. I should at least do two more." I did. And then contemplated quitting again. But then I looked at all of my different times and thought, "I bet I can beat all of these on my last 400." And suddenly, a goal was born and I could sense that I was going to be able to do it. (I'm pretty determined.) And I did. I ran the fastest 400 I have run in a very long time. And it was hard. And I was breathless. But it was worth it.

The funny thing about running (specifically training for a long race) is how analogous it is to life. For instance, if I keep "training" for life the same way I always have, I'm going to keep running at the same pace. Take that a step further (albeit a creative one) I could apply this to dating. If I keep trying to date the same way I've always dated, I'm guessing I'm going to keep getting the same results. I might end up with someone, but is it going to be the best someone for me? (Just roll with this...I know it's not perfect.)

So, this week I also decided to apply my "train better" approach to my personal life and when my friend at church suggested a triple date--a set-up triple date that is--while I normally would have said "hell no" I acquiesced. The main goal of this date was actually to set-up one of her friends from Arizona with one of my friends, but she thought it would be more fun if there were three couples rather than two, especially since they are married. I agreed, as long as she figured out who the third guy would be.

And guess what? When you train differently, you do get different results. I had a positive attitude about the whole thing and went into it very open minded and I ended up having a really good time. My goal for the next couple of weeks is to figure out where else I can use this "train differently" approach in my life. I'm guessing there will be lots of opportunities. LIke the speed dating thing I'm doing this next Saturday... And know that the process of training differently is going to be more painful than what I have been doing. But what I have been doing has not been getting me the results I want, so it makes sense that that needs to change, right?

It all sounds so easy posted on a blog at 3 am. This week is a tempo run rather than speed work which will involve a lot more discipline if I run it outside, which I'm determined to do. But I'm already looking forward to the sense of accomplishment I will feel after the run and the little improvement (be it ever so small) that I will feel while running.

ETA: And the song of the night on Tuesday (speed work night) was Katy Perry's Firework.

icy weather will not win

2011-01-10T21:39:00.000-07:00

Today was cold. Really cold. Bitter cold. The whole day, at work, looking outside at the icy coldness (clear skies in the winter are rarely warm skies), I kept thinking of all the reasons to not go running. Then I thought of going on the treadmill, knowing how easy it would be to get off the treadmill if I got tired. Even on my way home, I was still debating whether I was going to run. Such a mental game.

And then I remembered the sweatshirt I didn't want to wear on Saturday because it wasn't cold enough. This sweatshirt makes it possible for me to run when it's freezing cold outside because a) it has a high neckline...like too high for normal wear...and b) it has a hood. I purchased this sweatshirt at H&M back before people in the U.S. even knew what H&M was (thank you Switzerland) and I it was one of two sweatshirts that made it through the Great Closet Clean Out of 2010 (thank you, New York Relocation). I don't know why I kept it, but it was perfect for tonight. And for some reason, the desire to wear that sweatshirt was motivating. (I am seriously amazed at how normal and weird I can be simultaneously.)

So, after realizing that running on the treadmill (at first I typed dreadmill...talk about a serious Freudian slip) would surely end in disaster (me quitting after half a mile) and deciding that I would, in fact, survive running outside, I donned my winter running wear and was ready to head out the door. And then I remembered the joys of the runny nose that happens in the freezing cold. So, I coated my nose in Aquifor (basically petroleum jelly) so that it wouldn't be totally raw by the end of my run. And then I was off.

In case you were wondering, there is nothing sexier that winter running. Nothing. (Runners everywhere wish that was true.)

The run was fantastic in terms of my cardiovascular stamina. I took it at my normal slow pace and was doing great...and then a cramp struck my left calf. Serious muscle pain. You'll be happy to know that I did not let this slow me down. I just pushed through it. Sadly, it was so cold that my poor calf only managed to loosen up with a half mile left in my 3.5 mile run, but it made for an amazing last half mile.

And, because I know you really wanted to know this...the Aquifor on my nose kept me from touching it (there was a lot of sniffing) or wiping it, so my nose is perfectly happy and in tact. Totally worth it.

Finally, the song that accompanied my super fast last half mile (and then some)...Michael Jackson's The Way You Make Me Feel. As I ran, I imagined myself doing a little MJ dance, with the hand snap and all. It was awesome.

If you ever want to feel hard core, just go running in the freezing cold. I swear people were looking at me like I was amazing...or maybe like I was crazy (hard to tell, but I'm going to go with amazing).

Tomorrow, speed work. I can't decide if I want to try to do this outside since I can do 1/4 mile sprints easily given the street system here in NYC...or if I want to use the treadmill. We shall see.

central park running

2011-01-08T22:33:00.043-07:00

Blogging everyday is so much easier than once a week, but having the running theme (for now) helps. I may catch up at some point and share all of the "fun" details of my trip back home to New York. But for right now, we're on to running.

Monday was a wash, what with all the traveling. Tuesday was speed work...a tempo run. All I had to do was run for 30 minutes, slowing increasing my pace for 10 minutes, holding the fast pace for 10 minutes, and then slowing down for the last 10 minutes. I made it...10 minutes. Total. The treadmill and I were not friend.

I decided to try something different on Wednesday. Randomly, I had a conversation on New Year's Eve about how many NYC street blocks (we have street blocks and avenue blocks) are in a mile. There are 20. So, I decided that I would run outside. Now, with 20 street blocks being in a mile, you can imagine how many times I might have to stop and wait for lights...which is why I chose to run along the park side of Central Park West. The beauty of the park side (east side) of that street is that there are only a few streets that run through the park, meaning there were only a few potential stops.

I got home from work on Wednesday, changed right into my outdoor running gear (yep, I do own some running tights...amazing), and was off. I warmed up walking to Central Park West, and then I was off; 96th down to 66th and back again. It was AMAZING. First of all, every time I run outside in NYC, I remember how lucky I am to live in such an amazing place. Second, running somewhere is so much better than running in place. So. Much. Better.

And the song of the run? The one that kept me going when I wanted to quit? California Gurlz - Katy Perry.

Given this new discovery, I decided that my run this morning would have to be outside. The beautiful thing about where I live is just how close I am to Central Park. And, as it happens, the Central Park Loop* is almost exactly six miles (6.0273 to be exact). It is also great because it's got some good elevation changes. Nothing major, but way better than running on flat...at least when training for a half-marathon that also has a few elevation changes.

It was amazing. Seriously. I felt so good. And considering that the farthest I had run (like, the whole time) prior to this morning was the three miles I ran on Wednesday, I was seriously amazed at what I was able to run. I did walk a little so I could drink some water. But otherwise, I just cruised right along...right at the pace I seem to always run at. It felt great to be outside and running up and down hills and pushing right along. And Central Park is so pretty all snow covered.

There were a few moments when I could feel myself almost walking when I didn't really need to walk, but mentally, I think I'm finally back in the running game. And Taio Cruz definitely did his part with Dynamite. Seriously, such a fun song to run to.

And that's my running for the week. And here are the lessons I (re)learned this week:

Always opt to run outside if it's an option.
If I'm going to run on Fridays (as my schedule says to do) and Saturdays, the Friday runs have to happen in the morning.
The Central Park Loop is truly the perfect distance.
I need to carry more tissues with me (my nose was raw by the end).
There's a vendor at exactly the right point for water purchasing, although bringing some with me is definitely cheaper.
Running really is so mental.
Sleep makes a huge difference in my motivation level.
My body is kind of amazing.
I am going to be able to run this half marathon in March, and maybe if cut 10 minutes off of my time last year.

*I loved looking at this map and seeing the following caption on the loop I ran: THE 'BIG' ('6 MILE') LOOP (FOR VERY ACCOMPLISHED RUNNERS). Talk about a great ego boost...even if it did take me a long time to run it.

forward momentum

2011-01-01T23:31:00.100-07:00

I have mentioned frequently that I think New Year is kind of a silly holiday. That's probably slightly inaccurate. I think what it really is is that I don't like when people have ridiculous expectations for how "amazing" it's going to be or whatever. (For the record I feel the same exact way about birthdays.) I did, in fact, have a very fun NYE filled with lots of friends and laughter and my sliding down the lane after getting a little overzealous in my bowling--and no, I wasn't drunk.

I actually really like the whole New Year thing when it comes to reflecting on the year and what has happened and where I'd like my life to go in the next year. I think this should be done with some regularity and so New Year is a great time to make sure this happens.

Earlier this week, I was at brunch with Brian (a benefit of being stuck in Utah for so long) and we were discussing motivational speakers. Brian was telling me that Tony Robbins has said that people usually overestimate what they can accomplish in a year and underestimate what they can accomplish in ten years. I actually found the quote:

Once you have mastered time, you will understand how true it is that most people overestimate what they can accomplish in a year — and underestimate what they can achieve in a decade!

This idea has been rolling around in my head for the past six days as I have been thinking about what the next year could have in store for me and I think I completely agree with it. (I have not yet mastered time nor do I know much about the rest of what Tony Robbins teaches.)

Here are some of the things I was thinking about in terms of goals for the next year:

Losing weight (the never ending battle in my life)
Getting out of debt (financial mastery...not my strong suit)
Running another marathon
Getting myself the new role I really want in my rotational program at work (I don't even know what this is yet)
Going on a real vacation

Now, keeping in mind this idea of overestimating what I can do in a year, and underestimating what I can do in 10, I've been rethinking some of these goals. For instance, I always have these grandiose weight loss plans that have me ending the year at exactly the weight I want to be (about 60 lbs less than I weight right now).

In reality, if I could live in a vacuum, I could probably lose 60 lbs in a year...but that's all I'd do because I wouldn't be able to think about anything else if I wanted to actually lose 60 lbs in a year. But what if I just set the goal this year to lose 10 lbs and keep it off. And then next year I do the same thing. Sure, it would take me more than a year to lose those 60 lbs, but it's not like I would actually lose those 60 lbs in a year anyway. Doesn't 10 lbs seem so much more manageable? And if I'm working to lose it and keep it off, and the goal is actually realistic, I'm guessing I could actually do it, and I would actually be 60 lbs lighter in six years versus ending every year frustrated that I haven't lost a ton of weight and feeling like a total failure. And who knows, maybe I'd lose 15 instead of 10 and then I'd be done in four years.

Getting out of debt. The reality is, this is not going to happen in a year and I know this. That said, I think figuring out a realistic ten year plan could really help me feel so much better about where I'm at right now and where I could be. I will set a realistic goal for myself for the next year, and it will take into account the fact that I do want to be able to still enjoy my life. These goals will be more behavior based and less end goal based. I mean, it's great to say, "I will have these two credit cards paid off by the end of the year," but if I'm not changing my behaviors, how long will they really stay paid off and in the ten year scheme of things, wouldn't it be great to figure out how I'm going to get out of debt and then how I'm going to start saving money so I can actually retire one day. (On that note, I do take advantage of my 401k match right now because that would just be throwing money away if I didn't.)

Running another marathon: the fact is, I don't just want to run another marathon. I want to run another marathon much faster than I ran the first. Considering how I am sucking wind now when I run any distance, it would be silly to set this goal for this year. But I do want to set a goal that will get me closer to running a faster marathon. So, in an effort to get to my goal of running three races during my year of 33, I have decided my goal will be to run three half-marathons, shaving off 10 minutes each one. (This might sound unrealistic to you experienced runners, but if you knew just how slow I run, you would know that this is totally doable.) This goal won't require me to eat, sleep, and breathe running, but it will require me to stay focused on exercising.

Going on a real vacation. So, first of all, with all of my missed flights, this has been a real vacation. I have slept more in the past two weeks than I would have thought possible. I feel great. I've enjoyed eating good things, playing lots, and just hanging out. That said, I want to go on a fun trip to an exotic place (read: outside of the U.S. and western Europe). Realistically, with my current plans for the coming year, trying to do something like this would be stressful and, financially, a little unrealistic given my other goals. So, instead of making sure this one happens, I'm going to start planning for a serious vacation for next year or the year after. I will need to figure out about what it will cost and how I can start saving for it a little at a time. Again, I want to be realistic about what I can achieve in a year.

As for work, I think this is the one area where it's easy to be realistic about what I can do in one year because I don't have a lot of control over it. I definitely have some lofty goals for the next five years, but what I need to do is start looking at those goals and talking to my mentors about how to best reach those goals.

In fact, with all of these goals, I think it might not be a bad idea to find some people to mentor me and find some good books to read to keep me motivated (suggestions?).

Anyway, I'm excited about the year ahead...and the next ten years! Seriously, I feel like anything is possible and hopefully, by being realistic in my one year plans and ambitious in my 10 year ones, I will be able to keep this forward momentum going.

mentoring (or how i spend my saturdays)

2010-12-31T10:08:00.000-07:00

There are all kinds of charities throughout the world and various ways to give of your time or money. Once upon a time I was very involved with Sowers of Hope in DR Congo. It has had its ups and downs and with grad school and then moving to New York, I didn't feel like I could really give the time or money I wanted to give. That said, I knew when I moved to New York I would want to find some way to give back.

Enter Minds Matter. One of my friends at work found this organization and I decided I wanted to get involved. As a firm believer in education and as someone who recognizes just how lucky I was to have parents who believed in education and a great example in my father who had a masters degree, and to have their support through high school, college, and then a masters degree, I feel like any organization that is trying to help kids not as privileged as I was get an education is something I can get behind.

Minds Matter is a program that helps high achieving, underprivileged high school students get into college. Interesting fact, the average income of these families is $21,000...in major urban areas. They do this by helping the kids with their test prep and getting them into incredible summer programs (Stanford, UCLA, etc, etc) that help them get into college. As a mentor of a high school sophomore, I meet with my mentee, Ivy*, every Saturday to help her prepare applications for various summer programs and whatever else she might need. Ivy is really interested in French and is in her first semester of it, so I get to help her with that; so fun for me.

I've also learned a lot from her. While I did not have the ideal childhood in terms of family situation, it could have been much harder. (I mean, I knew that, but...) Ivy lives in the Bronx and commutes to Queens for school (an hour each way) just so she can attend a better school. Her older brothers both live near her high school, so sometimes she stays with one of them. There are times when she doesn't get to go home for a week at a time. I mean, she's staying with her brother, but I know it's rough for her. Her parents both work in a restaurant. One of her brothers is a mechanic, the other is a limo driver. No one in her family has ever graduated college. I actually don't think anyone has ever even gone. Things that I took for granted as a kid (like having parents who knew how to apply for college) are things that are not at all part of her life.

This is a great program and I'm so thrilled to be a part of it. Something about having to plan your whole weekend around spending a couple of hours with high school sophomore really helps a thirty-something keep her life in perspective.

The program is funded through grants and fundraising and the various summer programs work with Minds Matter to offer financial aid to the students. And this is the part where I ask you if you'd like to donate to this great program. If you are interested, you can donate directly on my fundraising site. I'm trying to raise enough to sponsor the cost of one student ($2,500). Any amount helps!

And with that, I'm off to run my three miles and get on with my day.

*Name has been changed.

stuck in utah and a small victory

2010-12-30T06:21:00.080-07:00

I spent a few hours at the SLC airport yesterday, waiting for my delayed flight...delayed flight that never was. Fog in Chicago ended my hopes of getting home yesterday and so, I am still in Utah. The good news is that I am "stuck" with my family and a bunch of good friends, so it's not so bad. And, while I was supposed to hang out with the lovely Sarah and her boyfriend in NYC, I will get to see her when she returns tonight. And thankfully, they were staying in my apartment in New York, so my plants aren't dead and my mailbox isn't overflowing.

While I was sitting at the airport for hours, I ran into my darling cousin Maddie who was on her way to see her sister, Ali, and her new niece. Then, as luck would have it, my favorite running partner, Anne, was at the airport with her husband waiting for their flight to DC. I hadn't met him before and I hadn't seen Anne in almost two years (since we ran the SLC half marathon together in April 2009). They came to my gate to see me off just as I found out I wouldn't be going anywhere and kept me company while I waited for Southwest to call me back and my dad to return from P-town to pick me up. And, had I waited just a little longer before going back through security, I would have seen Puz, who was on his way back to Germany via Paris (that will be me someday).

All in all, the hours in the airport were far from wasted. And then, because I was in town last night, I was able to attend Jenna's bro-in-law's b-day party and see a lot of my favorite people from NYC; Jenna, Alisa, Sara, and Kevin.

Now, when I found out my flight was canceled, I realized I would be able to get my run in...fast forward a few hours and I have almost forgotten about running entirely. I got home, ate dinner with my fam, and then headed over to the party. I wasn't planning on staying very long, but I do love my NYC friends and I do hate missing out on anything... At about 8:30, I thought, "If I want to get my run in, I should probably head home."

But then I was having fun talking to everyone and I hate missing out on social time. I texted my brother around 8:40 to make sure I'd be able to use the treadmill (it's in my brother and sister-in-law's bedroom). No response. And so I kept procrastinating. Finally, at 9:00, I knew that if I didn't leave right then I wouldn't have time to get my three miles in. It was decision time.

These are the moments when it's so easy to say, "It's just this one time. I won't skip tomorrow, but today I really want to hang out with my friends." The problem is that there is always some excuse. Always. And so, as hard as it was, I left my friends and headed home to run.

The good news is, I got the run in. The bad news is I am very out-of-shape in the running department, so the "run" was a little painful and even slower than usual. I just have to remember that it's all progress as long as I'm doing it. And now, for the songs that got me through yesterday's run:

I Want You Back - The Jackson Five
Stop - Jane's Addiction
The Way You Make Me Feel - MJ (apparently, Michael and I were having a thing yesterday)
I Think I'm In Love With You - Jessica Simpson
Summer Love - JT

There were others, but those are the ones I remember that helped me keep going. I had forgotten just how much I love Jane's Addiction. Maybe because liking them makes me feel very old. Anyway, I got the run in and felt very satisfied as I went to sleep last night. Today...no running. Just strengthening...toning video, here I come.

and this is the part...

2010-12-28T17:30:00.000-07:00

When this blog turns into more of a running blog than anything else.

Yesterday should have been my first "official" day of training for the Canyonlands Half Marathon with an easy three mile run. However, because I'm not used to prioritizing running, when Alisa texted to see if I wanted to go to a movie of course I said yes because I wasn't really thinking about the fact that I still needed to run three miles.

This is probably the hardest thing for me when it comes to training (or exercise of any sort). Prioritization. Yesterday, I didn't want to go running until later in the day. I got up and started working on EST (I'm still in Utah thanks to the great blizzard in New York). Then, I took my "lunch" break and got ready for the day (as in shower, blow dry, flat iron, makeup) in order to meet Brian for breakfast. The fam was going to dinner that evening and I wasn't about to do the whole "get ready" routine again, so running would have to wait.

And, as already mentioned, after dinner I went to a movie and then didn't really plan on running because it was dark (the headlamp is in New York...yes, I own a headlamp) and really cold. The treadmill at my brother's house is in his bedroom and I no longer have a gym membership in Utah. So, no run. Of course, when I did get home, Justin and Cherity were still awake and we ended up talking into the wee hours of the morning (okay, it was 12:30 am, but that is late for me these days). Yes, I could have done my run, but I wasn't thinking about that when I was busy chatting away with my brother and his lovely wife.

So, Day 1 of training didn't happen because I didn't make it a priority. And that is how life works, isn't it. We do what we make time to do. While I sucked it up yesterday, I made sure to prioritize for today. I got up for work (in my PJs) and then, when I finally decided to change into clothes...I changed into workout clothes and stayed in then until I ran and run I did. Today was 5x400s at 5k pace. I pushed it a little too hard maybe (this is another problem I have), but felt good when it was over.

When I was pushing through my last 400 at an 8:30 pace (this is basically sprinting for me), the perfect song came on; Too Much - Kylie Minogue. It was exactly how I felt about my first training run (incidentally, it's about falling in ~~love~~ lust, but whatever).

And with that, on we go.

(A post about my vacation coming soon...and for that, this blog might transform into a "mom" blog momentarily because I am a very proud auntie.)

top 20 of 2010

2010-12-27T15:24:00.000-07:00

And on the music note (pun intended), I will now post my top 20 songs from 2010...the songs that will always remind me of this year in my life. I tried to make it 10, but...with my life being so clearly cut into two this year "Before New York" and "In New York", it was just too hard, but I did divide it appropriately. In no particular order (and only including running music if I listened to it outside of running...that needs to be its own list):

Before New York

Turn to Stone - Ingrid Michaelson
Sick - The Lovemakers
Search Your Heart - Pete Yorn & Scarlette Johansson
Your Hand In Mine - Explosions in the Sky
I See You - Mika
The Poison - The All-American Rejects
Poker Face - Idina Menzel & Lea Michele
Uprising - Muse
Brooklyn Blurs - The Paper Raincoat
Corner - Allie Moss
Little House - Amanda Seyfried
Comes and Goes in Waves - Greg Laswell

In New York

Dog Days Are Over - Florence + The Machine
A Little Bit Stronger - Sara Evans
Empire State of Mind - Alicia Keys
California Gurls - Katy Perry
Alors On Danse - Stromae
Teenage Dream - Glee Cast
Raise Your Glass - P!nk
One Last Time - The Kooks

That was a lot harder than I thought it would be...and I'm missing a lot of songs, but limiting it to 20 made me have to cut things down quite a bit.

top five

2010-12-27T14:37:00.000-07:00

I love music...probably more than I love anything else (even chocolate :-). I grew up with parents who loved it and made music a part of our lives everyday...sometimes to our chagrin. (Listening to my dad play the same four bars of music on the piano all day long did not do a lot to motivate me to learn how to play the instrument, nor did it to anything for my dislike of Cannon in D.)

Moving on. Music has always been a huge part of my life. I can think back to any point in my life and name a song that reminds me of that time. If I were to create a "mix for my life" it would include anything from Metallica to David Lanz, and include really random stuff like The Party (anyone else remember them?).

As I have been thinking about all of the music-related posts I would like to write, I'm going to start with this; the top five albums from my youth (through high school...not after). These are albums that I can (to this day) listen to end-to-end without skipping more than one song because I love them that much (and they hold so many memories).

Shawn Colvin - Fat City
Counting Crows - August & Everything After
Dave Matthews - Under the Table and Dreaming
U2 - War
Madonna - True Blue

Eventually, I'll make a list of all of the songs that represent my life (for my own sake...and that of my posterity), but this is where I'll start.