Wednesday, November 20, 2013

On turning into a mental zombie....

I remember a time in my life when writing was all I could think about. I like to call this period:

UNDERGRAD.

Granted, my degree is in writing and editing, so the central focus of my entire undergraduate career revolved around writing. But, oh, the interesting things I got to write about! I created a new government. I dissected American Gothic literature (which was a labored, but worth-it effort). I wrote about Canada and Japan and how both of those countries have made an indelible mark on my heart. I got to write about, fight about, and talk about cheerleading and it's validity as a sport. I tore apart my grandmother's favorite movie and fell even more in love with it by doing so. I even wrote several technical instruction manuals (something I'm very good at, but also find incredibly boring). 

I remember when writing for a magazine consumed me and was my ultimate goal. Specifically, I wanted to write for Vanity Fair or The New Yorker. I realize these were (and are) very lofty goals, something so few people will ever get to do, but a girl's gotta dream, right? 

And then I graduated, got my fancy degree, and, well...stopped writing. 

Yep. I essentially stopped using the degree I'd worked so hard to get. 

I suppose there are plenty of people out there that experience this very same thing. Going to all the trouble of getting the degree and then having to get a job doing something entirely different just to pay the bills. It's the curse of the floofy liberal arts degree. (To be fair, I have had one job that actually paid me for my writing and it was a ton of fun, even if it was just the one copywriting job...I loved it.)

So, now that I have all this time, I'm trying really hard to set aside parts of my week devoted to writing. I'm reading books on writing (the irony destroys me). And I'm trying to engage my brain more fully, even if that means I'm just having conversations on Facebook about the weird Right, the nutty Left, or idiot clothing CEOs. Whatever it may be, I need to keep my brain from going into atrophy. 

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

On wanting and having all the things....

Christmas is coming. Prepare yourself. Oh, wait. If all the malls and stores are correct, Christmas has been here since mid-October. And it drives.me.crazy.

I love Christmas. I always have. It's a part of how I grew up. I'm that girl that spends all year just waiting for the day after Thanksgiving so I can start putting up the tree and the decorations and begin my annual marathon baking sesh. I love shopping for things to give my friends and family. Even more, I love wrapping up the gifts in delightful paper and ribbons, perfectly coifed for their spots under the tree.

But something about Christmas this year is throwing me for a loop. Possibly, it's been throwing me for a lot longer than that. Or maybe it's just coming to head this year because this is the first Christmas in my adult life I haven't had my own job. I don't know. What I do know is that Christmas is out of control. It got crammed down my throat with a consumeristic vengeance this year and continues to do so. 

For a long time, I've been curious about the draw to Black Friday. I've only ever "done it" once, probably about fifteen years ago. I don't like the crowds and I don't like the fighting over stuff. I hear the stories every year about people getting trampled for a damn XBOX and I just shake my head. What is wrong with us? And that's even when stores had the decency to stay closed until 6a.m. on Friday morning. 

Now, corporations are actually making people work on Thanksgiving? Really?! Under threats of losing their jobs if they don't? What is wrong with us? I remember when the only stores that were open on Thanksgiving were grocery stores and even those were only open until noon. Grocery stores open on Thanksgiving? I can make my peace with that. I'm a professional ingredient forgetter. I can appreciate that Kroger is open for a few hours on Thanksgiving morning. But Toys R Us? Kohls? What in God's name do we need RIGHT FREAKING NOW that can't wait until Friday? I don't understand what bargain could be worth making someone be away from their family on (what I thought was) a lovely family-centric holiday. 

Which begs the question: are we really thankful? For anything? So many of us spend the entire month of November talking about things we're thankful for, but come Black Friday, how much of that do we remember? I wonder what that really says about our culture. 

Something that's weighed on me for many years now is that of responsible consumerism. Ever since I read "The Omnivore's Dilemma" back in undergrad, I've been more interested in knowing where my food comes from. Not only that, I'm growing to appreciate local economy much more than I ever thought I would. I love going to local farmer's markets and supporting CSAs. And that's to say nothing of my support for locally brewed beer (it should be clear by now that I love craft beer). 

But what if I were to take it a little further and consider where my stuff comes from?  What if, this year, instead of buying mass market Christmas gifts, I choose to make them? Or buy them from a local artist? Or even from Etsy? What if I chose to support local economy as much as I can? Or what if - oh my god - I bought gifts from the Salvation Army or the ARC? Inexpensive, creative, and supportive of those that can benefit from how I spend? 

So this year, I'll probably be doing the same thing I always do on Black Friday: sitting at home, drinking boozy hot chocolate or hot cider, playing cards with my family, maybe even decorating for Christmas. I'm lucky enough to get to spend this Thanksgiving with some of my extended family, something I haven't done, well, ever (we used to get together for Christmas every year when I was much younger, but never for Thanksgiving)...and there's not a way for me to describe how excited I am about this! Between Grandma's cooking and my delightfully hilarious aunts and my cousin and my uncle who knows how to make a killer cocktail, I can't quite contain my excitement for this year! 

But when it comes to gift giving, I'm going to play it down a bit, employ some alternative choices, and just...enjoy it. 
__________________________________________

If you're interested in reading some other thoughts on this topic, here are some blogs I've come across recently (this is certainly not a new topic): 




Thursday, November 7, 2013

On finding a new career....

The question was posed some weeks ago: If money wasn't a concern, what would you want to do for a career? 

My answer: All of the things. 

There are just so many things I want to do and learn and experience. My first idea was to be a professional student. If I could get paid to just go to school and get degrees and learn things, I'd be a pretty happy girl. But then, what kinds of things? 

I really want to learn languages. Spanish, French, Arabic, and Japanese are on the top of my list (for now). My heart beats in a lot of languages...I wish I could speak all of them. I feel like a lot of the world's problems stem largely from a lack of communication, a lack of understanding. Or maybe even an unwillingness to understand. I would just like to talk with people, on their level, in their language. I watch people's eyes light up when my brother recognizes their dialect of Spanish and starts talking to them. I also remember how relieved I was when I was lost in Japan and someone just talked to me in English. There's something really lovely about hearing another culture speak your language. The art of communication is something special indeed.

I'd also really like to spend all my time learning to dance. To just be twirled around a dance floor for hours upon hours every day would make so many of my dreams come true. I love dancing. I love the music, the expressions, the pictures. I love the technique and the history and knowing which forms belong specifically to which style. I want to listen to Frank Sinatra and dance the foxtrot all the live long day. I want to go to salsa in Brazil and know that I don't look like a crazy person.

The lazy person in me (and she comes out with a great deal of force from time to time) wants to get paid to sit around and watch movies and TV all day. I have terabytes worth of movies I have yet to watch. **As an aside, I find it hilarious that I now talk about the amount of music and movies I have in terms of digital storage and not in terms of CD books or shelves.** I've been wanting to watch all the Best Picture winners for a long time. I've probably seen a few and don't know it. But I want to make a point of watching that which was deemed "The Best" by some arbitrary group of filmmakers and critics (or whatever).

Then there's cooking and baking. I've actually semi-seriously looked into going to culinary school. Then I quickly remember I barely know how to handle a chef's knife. But I would love to know how to cook like Julia Child or Gordon Ramsey or Giada or even Rachael Ray (with her blasted EVOO!). I just want to know how make delicious things all on my own. Now, I know that much of cooking (even baking, to a certain degree) is a lot of guess work, making stuff up, and trying to re-create flavors you've had in the past. But there are essentials that I want to know. I want to understand the chemistry behind why some things work and other things won't. I want to understand cooking at the most basic level so that I can move beyond that into the complicated (and delicious)! Just don't ever ask me to make a deconstructed salad. I'll just give you five bucks and send you to Whole Foods. Bam! Deconstruction at it's finest!

And much like learning languages, I'd love to get paid to travel. Honestly, this is probably the most desirable option. To wander about the world, experiencing all the cultures, eating all the foods, seeing all the history...and then to write about it. That would be the most ideal existence for me. It really combines all the things I love: travel, reading, writing, and eating. And maybe some dancing thrown in for good (and hysterical) measures. It's like an "Eat, Pray, Love" thing, but without the depression and anxiety at the beginning. Yeah, I'm sure I could get used to that.

Oh, and yoga. Can't forget the yoga. I don't think I ever want to be an instructor, but I would like to bring a mat with me wherever I go and find my spiritual center in whatever country I'm in.

So much of the world has so much to offer...we just have to be willing to take it in, without judgment, without pre-existing notions, without fear.

This is what I really want to learn through all of the aforementioned ideas: to live life without reservation.

Friday, August 23, 2013

On changing things up....

In less than one week my life has changed - and will change - dramatically. I quit my job a week ago today. This whole "early retirement" thing was a shock to the system. I'm still waking up at 5am every day and I'm pretty sure I'm more tired now than I ever was when I was working full time. Running errands, spending more time with the dogs, cleaning like a crazy person, doing yard work...it's madness! Each day, I get home from running around and it's all I can do to haul myself up to my bedroom and collapse onto the bed. I definitely did not expect that. 

To be fair, it's been a lot of fun stuff. I went on an eight mile bike ride yesterday, which I'd been itching to do. What I failed to take into consideration was the amount of hills in my city combined with my single gear cruiser bike. I looked a hot mess by the time I got home! I've gotten to go running without worrying about time. Grocery shopping during the day, however, is a complete joke. I'm certain that drivers are worse in the parking lots at one in the afternoon than they ever could be at six in the evening. Ridiculous. 

For the first three days of "retirement," I had plenty to keep me busy. Then yesterday, the boredom set in. I had absolutely nothing to do. And it sucked. I didn't really want to drive anywhere because gas is so expensive. Which also meant I couldn't take myself out for lunch. It was too hot to run or bike. The dogs were happy playing in the backyard. I had nothing to cook and didn't want to make cupcakes. All the laundry was done. My stuff is as packed as it can get. Seriously, there was nothing to do. 

I think that's my biggest fear when I finally get to Virginia and have all the free time in the world. I suppose the dogs and I will be taking many trips to the local dog park. I'd love to try to do yoga on my own. And I'll need to start running again in earnest. It's just that everything costs money. And we're trying our hardest to get rid of nearly all our debt before we move to Maryland, so spending money in Virginia isn't really going to be an option. It even costs money to go to the beach! Annoying. 

I've read blogs and advice columns from women who are housewives without kids and I'm still not really sure what I'm supposed to do with all my time. Outside of cleaning and cooking, what does one do with no money and all the time she could imagine? It's kind of funny to me, how drastically things have changed. I used to have money and no time. Now it's just the opposite. Harumph. 

I have a list a mile long of things I want to make when I get out there. The very first thing on my list is chocolate chip cookies. I've been struggling with those stupid cookies for nearly 15 years so I'm hoping the elevation (or lack thereof) will help me finally master my recipe. Fighting with recipes can be fun, but only for so long. It's high time I get those cookies under control. 

So there you have it. "Retirement," while awesome, is also going to take some getting used to. At least initially. I watched a TV show the other day where one of the characters retired (like, really retired, not just quit a job because he could) and he didn't really have any idea what to do with himself. I found myself identifying a little bit. I mean, when you've spent your entire life (or what seems like your entire life) working and suddenly you don't have to do that anymore, what are you supposed to fill all the time with? It's a real problem. A real question. 

I'm going to write (I really can't wait to get an office set up in our house in Maryland). I'm going to cook (it's going to be a lot like Julie & Julia. I'm just going to learn to make all the things I've been wanting to learn). I'm going to become a brilliant mixologist. I'll throw parties. And, my body will thank me for this, I'm going to keep running and doing yoga. And maybe I'll even go swimming from time to time, despite my fear of the ocean (I'm really going to need to get over that). Maybe I'll learn to make jewelry. I want to learn how to decorate cupcakes better. 

There's plenty to do. It's just a matter of doing it. And getting used to it. 

And maybe there will be kids involved someday...



If you like this post, follow me on Twitter: @micahdl
or email me: usetheclutch@gmail.com

Sunday, August 11, 2013

On the fear of debt collectors....


1 Timothy 6:10 - For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.

I’m convinced this is one of the most misquoted pieces of Scripture out there. More often than not, it’s simply stated that “MONEY is the root of all evil.” False. That’s never been true. Money can’t inherently be evil. If it were, there are lot of necessities that we’d probably end up stealing.

The LOVE of money, however…that kind of evil makes sense. At least, it does to me.

I wonder, though, if it goes further than just loving money.

I’ve never considered myself a lover of money. I mean, I like having it and I like spending it, but I wouldn’t say I’m in love with it. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m terrified of it. I’ve spent the better half of my life living in fear of money. I hate debt. I hate being in debt. I hate worrying about how my bills are going to get paid.

My entire life, it feels like I’ve been a slave to money. Okay, not my entire life. But basically since I got my first car when I was 17. I’ve always owed someone money for something. Cars. Houses. Education. Credit cards (damn those necessary and evil things). And it’s the owing of money that has me terrified of money. I always wonder if I’ll have enough to retire on or if I’ll be able to support (or help support) a family or if I’ll get to travel the way I want to.

I’m a master budgeter. I have finances planned out for the next two to three years. In some ways, it makes me feel more comfortable. In other ways, I think if I deviate – even slightly – from that budget, everything will fall to pieces. I give myself very little wiggle room when it comes to money. I put a plan in place and I try desperately to stick to it. And when I inevitably don’t, I punish myself for it.

So is being afraid of money essentially the same thing as loving money?

I’d wager to say “yes” (ah haha…money pun). It really is.

What I think Timothy really meant is that being a slave to money, either through love or fear, isn’t healthy and distracts us from things that are so much more important. Things like taking the time (and money) to enjoy our families and our lives. Or giving back to the church (if you’re the Jesus-lovin’, church-goin’ type). Or simply not living in fear of the tiniest amount of debt.

I’m not suggesting anyone should be flighty or reckless with cash. I’m just suggesting that maybe it’s time to re-evaluate the way I view money, debt, and finances in general. And, because I am the Jesus-lovin’, church-goin’ type, maybe I re-think this fear of money and learn to trust a little more.

Things have a way of working themselves out. Fear not.

Friday, August 9, 2013

On taking a different route....

Working mom v. Stay at Home mom. 
Hell, working WOMAN v. Stay at Home WOMAN. 
It's quite a choice to make, isn't it? 

While I've never been a mother, I have been a woman for, well, just over 33 years now. And I've been working for 17 of those years. Like, legitimately working. Hard. I started working when I was 16 years old and haven't stopped. I got my first corporate job when I was 20 (after I dropped out of college) and basically just kept climbing that stupid ladder from then. I've been an executive assistant, a contracts liaison, an insurance agent, and, most recently, sales/service for a cheese company. I've made very small steps in my career, but each step has been both up and forward and, for me, that's is progress. 

During all that nonsense, I also finally completed my Bachelor's degree, something I honestly didn't think I'd ever do. It was hard and painful. There were plenty of tears and late nights and exhausted mornings (because I was still working full time). 

So working has become normal for me. A routine. I've done it for more than half my life at this point. And frankly, I like making money. I like being able to buy things and go out to dinner and have fun. 

And in one week, all of that is going to end. 

I'm "opting out." 

I'm choosing to spend my time taking care of a husband and a home (not to mention two little doggies). Part of it is out of necessity. I'm moving to one state for only about five months before moving again to another state where we'll be for three years. So a five month hiatus from the stress of my current life doesn't sound all that bad. But once we get to state # 2, I'm starting to wonder whether or not I should try to get another job. I suppose those first five months will help me decide. Will I be bored? Will I feel useless? Will I want to contribute - financially, to our home, and professionally, to the world? Will I feel like I'm missing out on something? My biggest fear, however is: Will I feel like I'm taking advantage of my new husband's career and finances? My second biggest fear is: Will I feel guilty for "wasting" my expensive, hard-earned college degree? 

My dream job, for as long as I can remember (except for that time in high school when I was sure I was going to be in the CIA) has been to write. I want to get paid to write. More recently, that became an even more focused desire to write for Vanity Fair. If you've never picked up that magazine, I highly recommend that you do. The writing is brilliant. If you need some back issues to look at, I have some recommendations. It's the perfect read for me...fashion, culture, op-ed, history. It's everything good about magazines without being weighed down by garbage (though it is quite a heavy magazine...thank God for the iPad edition!). That's the publication I want to write for. The reality is that it's probably way too late for me to start trying to go for that. So I just need to find other ways to write and get paid. 

The truth is, I think I'll love being at home. I've often wondered why more companies don't offer a telecommute option, regardless of whether someone is a parent or not. I've found that most people are far more productive at home than they are in an office (at least, some of the time). There are fewer interruptions and, frankly, it's nice to not have to wake up at 5:30am to take a shower and dress is business casual. Somedays, a girl just needs sweatpants, a pony tail, endless coffee, and a laptop. Talk about efficiency! It's the lack of making money and helping our financial situation that bothers me. 

I've thought about volunteering to curb any potential boredom, but that's really just working without getting paid and, as I've said before, I like making money. I also don't want to work at Starbucks or a bar. Well, to qualify, I don't want to work at some crappy dive. If I worked at a bar, it would have to be somewhere that I can be creative and not just sling beer. I want to do something that interests me. Even working part-time, I want to be challenged and intrigued. I want to contribute. 

So there you have it. "Opting out" is never going to be as easy as it sounds. There are so many variables to consider. And not one "opt out" person is like the next. 

Friday, July 12, 2013

On living a life of abundance....

Last night, for the first time, I cried during yoga.

I've been fighting a nasty cold for nearly a week and haven't been able to run in way too long. I hadn't been to a yoga class in two weeks. My whole body just ached. I felt weak and powerless, but like I really needed to be there that night. I figured I do the best that I could and if that meant being in a resting pose for an hour, then that's what that meant.

My instructor was at Wanderlust in Copper Mountain over the weekend (in the gorgeous, refreshing mountain air while I was sweltering on the east coast, learning how to be a military beach bum) and she told the class she had a special message from one of her favorite yogis. Shelly always has something special or fun or insightful to say and everything she says always just makes me feel good so I was looking forward to whatever gem she was going to offer.

Shelly's end-of-class mantra always includes the words, "Keep smiling!" She lives in a world of smiles and joy and abundance. I don't know her that well, but what I do know is that she finds the good in things. When Boston and Newtown happened, she took it as an opportunity to encourage us to put light and love into the world. That's just the kind of person she is.

But last night's little nugget of happiness hit me like a ton of bricks.

BE UNAPOLOGETIC ABOUT BEING ABUNDANTLY JOYFUL. (Shiva Rae)

I immediately started crying and dammit if my ujjayi breath didn't force more and more tears out. Suffice it to say, I had a hard time breathing in and out my nose last night. Between the tears and the headcold muck, I mostly just schnucked and sniffed and huffed through my whole practice. I sang along with songs. I didn't really give a rip about breathing or focus or intention. Or maybe I did. I just kept thinking about the last few months of my life and the next few to come and how, for some reason, I've felt a need to be "sorry" or secretive about how happy I really am.

So here's my reality.

I'm getting married in FIFTY DAYS! FIFTY! That's completely bonkers to me! Most of the planning is done. It's not all the hard because of how small the wedding is. The boy I'm marrying is fantastic and amazing and there's not a way for me to be more excited about what our future holds. We chose to have a small wedding for a couple reasons. 1 - it's #2 for each of us so the bill is entirely on us and we're moving AGAIN in less than six months. 2 - we wanted a small wedding. That's it. We just wanted something intimate and easy. I'm excited to share the day with our parents, siblings, and my best friends (I'm lucky enough to have three...and I'm certainly not apologizing for that). If we're lucky, Jeff's best friend will be able to join us too. I'm excited about all the people and vendors that have helped me be able to do certain things (photography, my flowers, etc) either inexpensively or free. I'm grateful for the generosity of creativity that has been lavished on me. I thought about getting a cheap and/or second-hand wedding dress, but instead I just went for it. I got a real wedding dress. A designer dress. And then, with a little more luck, a co-worker offered me an off-the-rack designer reception dress for next to nothing.

I'm friggin' excited! I am not sorry about that. It shouldn't have to be a secret. I get to embark on a new life with a wonderful man and there's no reason not to feel anything less than thrilled about it! And I have every intention of celebrating the awesomeness of this marriage to its fullest, whatever that means. I don’t always know what that looks like, but I know I’m going to celebrate in whatever big and small ways I feel like it.

But here's the thing: I'm also a little terrified. Not of getting married. I'm a little scared of moving. I'm nervous about leaving the only home I've ever really known. All my friends are here. My church is here...the place I've been a part of for almost 20 years. That's a really long time to belong somewhere. My running trails are here. Short story: my history is here. It's hard to leave that. I'm a Colorado girl, through and through. Maybe a little part of me thought I always would be and here I am jaunting off to new territory, new running terrain (and altitude), and new adventures. I'm afraid of forgetting and being forgotten. I'm afraid of moving away from the familiar.

And yet, none of that makes me NOT want to do this.

I'm excited!
I'm unapologetic!
And I'm outta here!


Wednesday, June 19, 2013

On occupational hazards....

I'm moving to the East Cost in 75 days. Holy crap. I kind of can't believe how quickly it's sneaking up on me. Today, I handed my resignation letter over to my boss. There aren't really words to describe how much I'm going to miss my job and my co-workers. This job has done a lot for me, especially where stability is concerned. My life went into some pretty big upheaval right around the time I started working here and it was something I was able to count on every single day to get me up and keep me going. 

But my life is taking a much different route than I ever thought it would. So it's time to put my thinking cap on and find new and interesting ways to occupy my time while I'm unemployed during my first few months on the East Coast. So far, I've come up with the following activities: 

1. Train for my first marathon. 
2. Find a yoga studio and keep my practice going. 
3. Learn to cook and bake new things. 
4. Start writing again, in earnest.

It's #3 where I sort of fall apart. I want to learn to make sushi and I want to perfect my prime rib. I also need to re-learn how to bake since I'll be doing it at sea level for the first time in my life. I'm both excited and terrified. So I'm asking for help in figuring out recipes I should learn for meals and desserts. Here's what's on my list right now: 
  •  some kind of cupcake with an avocado frosting
  •  caramelizing onions (probably for French onion soup, so I can continue to make Leah's amazing recipe...I'll probably work my way through her recipe catalog)
  •  cook an amazing boeuf bourguignon (I'm starting to wonder if I should do a Julie & Julia thing...)
  •  figure out how to do a souffle dessert
  •  perfect my green chili
  •  learn how to make Surf n' Turf
  •  try to make legit chicken korma
  •  complicate my baklava a bit in preparation for Christmas

So there you have it, my darling readers...give me your ideas and recipes and help me stay occupied this Fall! 

Sunday, June 9, 2013

On living with intention....

I go to my yoga studio three to five times every week. Hey, you tell me unlimited classes, I'm going to take as much advantage of that as I possibly can...despite the fact that some have told me that's "too much yoga." Is there really such a thing as "too much" yoga? Doubtful.

Anyway, every time we start class, the instructor asks us to set an intention for our practice. I imagine that's just a standard yoga teacher thing. Regardless, I always try to think of something that I need to focus on for myself. Most recently, it's been either strength or peace. I often combine each of those with something else, kind of like a main course and a side dish. I mean, it's my practice so I'll take from it what I can get. Usually, I combine them with something that's seemingly opposite, but really it's complementary. With strength, I also focus on beauty. With peace comes joy. And it almost never fails me. Focusing on things that are good and "breathing out that which no longer serves me" has helped me in huge ways over the last few months.

The levels of stress I've competed with in the last two or three months (to say nothing of the last two YEARS) have really thrown me for a loop. I mean, I'm a pretty hard core adrenaline junkie, but these loops have been way more than I ever wanted to be thrown for. I stopped being able to sleep through the night and I was constantly worried about something (usually finances). Things would wake me up in the middle of the night that I either couldn't control or that I could deal with in the morning. But awake I would be and awake I would stay. My finances got completely out of whack, which is something that - in all honesty - has NEVER happened to me before.

Then, sometime back in January, I read the book "The Secret" and it changed something in me. I stopped thinking about all the negative in my life. I started using as much positive talk as I could come up with. There's something profound and powerful in removing negative words from one's speech patterns. It changes the way I approach so many situations in my life now. I try, as best I can, to find whatever silver lining is available. Sure, there have been things that have thrown me and I completely forget to do this (like my move, for example), but on the whole, I try to keep a positive outlook. I remember looking at my finances, completely overwhelmed and disappointed and angry about it, and I said, "I just need [this much money] to get things under control." I did what I could, but the money never came. I tried getting a job at a bar. I did some secret shopping. But the amount that I needed just never came. So that lofty plan went on the back burner and I just plugged away at my debt as much as I could.

I started doing yoga in April and it changed my life. I learned to breathe and I learned to do it with intention. My teachers always remind us during class that, so often, during the day, we simply get too busy and forget to breathe. How is that even possible? I don't know, but now that I'm aware of it, I find myself intentionally breathing during the day. It's helped the way I run. That zen and peace that I found so many years ago in Japan, it's slowly making it's way back into my life through yoga. I'm realizing that maybe I should be more proactive about "setting my intention"...maybe it doesn't just have to be about yoga. Maybe I should wake up, breathe a little, and set an intention for my day. After all, I'm really the only one that can control how good (or bad) my day turns out.

So I'm going to try that out. I'm going to wake up in the morning and set the course of my day. As for day one, it's working out pretty all right so far.

Last week, we sold the house. For a massive profit. It didn't really even hit me until this morning, but the amount that I said I needed back in January was almost exactly the amount that I got from the sale.


Intention was set. Intention was sealed. 

Sunday, June 2, 2013

On living the good life....

Denver, Colorado has been my home for the last 33 years. I've never really lived anywhere else, at least, not substantially. There was there year I lived in Calgary, Alberta and my heart certainly found a new "home" there for a time. I loved every second of living in Canada and every time I go back to visit, I fall in love a little more. But that was just one year away from home and I lived in a dorm. Then there was the year I lived in northern Minnesota. I'd be quick to argue that was the worst year of my life (until recently...and it still ranks fairly high on my list of horrible, rotten years) despite the fact I met my best friend that year. She makes that year worth remembering. But, again, it was just a year away from home and I lived in a dorm.

On September 2, 2013, I will officially be leaving my home in Denver and setting up shop way out east. Like, REALLY living somewhere else. New grocery stores, new church, new trails, new favorite restaurants, and most importantly (and most terrifyingly), new friends.

So with a mere three months left in my home, there are probably a LOT of things I need to accomplish. I'm trying to make a list and sometimes I get overwhelmed, so I'm going to ask for some help. Here's what I've come up with so far (with some recent additions from friends):

1. Casa Bonita. Sure, the food sucks and the acting is shockingly worse than the food, but is there anything more definitive of Denver?
2. Shopping on 16th Street Mall. Not that I haven't done enough of that already...and I certainly don't need more clothes or shoes...so maybe I'll just go with the suggestion of playing chess with a homeless guy or tickling the out-of-tune ivories.
3. Hammond's Candy Factory. The more pressing issue here is that I haven't EVER been to Hammond's.
4. Film on the Rocks. Again, how have I not done this yet? Fortunately there are about a zillion movies this summer.
5. Red Rocks, in general. I go running there quite often with another of my BFFs (yes, I get to have more than one. I'm just that lucky), but it would be nice to go to one more amazing show there...though if I don't, the last show I'll have seen there is Mumford & Sons. And I'll be okay with that.
6. Stranahan's Whiskey distillery tour. I do loves me some brown booze!
7. Scrumptious Ice Cream. I know it's hard to believe, but I haven't been there but ONE TIME in the last year. That's just ridiculous.
8. Patio dining. Oh my gawd, the patio dining. There's not much more I can say about that. Denver has one of the best restaurant line ups I've ever seen. I'm definitely going to miss the abundance of interesting and delicious food.

But more than anything, I just want to spend time with the people I love. No, I'm not moving to another planet or even another country. I'm a four-hour plane ride from Colorado. But all of the things above (and all the things you'll hopefully suggest to me) are important not just because it's "Colorado"...they're important because of the people, the memories, the moments. I have three girl friends with whom concerts - good concerts - become instantly more intimate and precious because they are there. Three of my gal pals are some of the only women I know who share my affinity for dark liquor. There's the one friend with which patio dining isn't just another meal...it's an event, it's something to celebrate because summer has arrived! I have one friend that loves candy the way that I do and while I've never been to Hammond's (with her or anyone else), I know that she'll be among the first to come with me. Red Rocks...good Lord...is there a way to summarize everything in my soul about Red Rocks? I'm not even going to try. If you've been, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Shopping with my Colorado BFF is adventure and experience in and of itself...who else could talk me into a hot pink leopard print dress and then get me to wear it in public...TWICE?

So there you have it. Those are my things I need to do before I leave. In three months. Twelve weeks. Ninety-four days.


What am I missing? 

Monday, April 22, 2013

On temporary pain....

Tattoos are kind of hilarious to me. I'm often perplexed at how emotionally violent people can get about either their love of or hatred of them. I've seen people get oddly judgemental toward people who have them; but I've seen the flip-side, too. I've seen people with tattoos get oddly preachy about the reasons they have theirs...as if one group could convince the other to change their minds. As if it matters.

I have a few tattoos of my own. Four, to be exact. And I love them all. Well, I love three of them. The ugly stepsister tattoo (which was my first) is embarrassing, at best. I need to get it fixed. It was the product of a slightly intoxicated rebellious streak and, because I knew nothing of how to research artists or questions I should ask, I essentially wound up with a paint-by-numbers drawing on my back. Lesson learned, Universe. Lesson learned. [It should also be noted that I credit Miami Ink with teaching me the questions to ask and skills to expect with something so permanent].

So that was my first tattoo. A naked fairy sitting on a rose on my lower back. It's hideous. Borderline white trash. Sigh. It's going to take a lot to fix it.

Despite that catastrophe of a tattoo, I've become addicted, as so many people do. I now have four tattoos with room for nine more and ideas for at least four of them. Each of them mean (or will mean) something special to me. One is my life's mission. Another is my family. The most recent is my strength. The next is how I feel about myself (or should feel, because I don't always feel this way). Another is my past and there will be a matching future. I have a plan for one to display my pride in myself (and my body). I'd like one to display my zen, my peace...but that one will take some time to design.

It's about the most permanent way I can think of to display the things that make me, me. I see some of my tattoos daily and am reminded of so much of the good and magical in my life. It forces me to remember that for all the good and beautiful in my life, it's come with some signficant pain. But more than that, it reminds me that pain is temporary and beauty really can feel like forever.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

On learning to love again....

Confession: I have struggled with feelings of hatred and fear for a really long time.
Mostly, these feelings are directed at myself or at situations I find myself in. I hate the high arches in my feet. I hate that my gums are receding. I hate that I have a five-head (and I especially hate the scar on said five-head that is in no way a curling iron burn, but everyone stupidly asks that question). I hate the cottage cheese that's starting to appear on my ass and thighs. I hate that my top half is disproportionately small compared to my bottom half.

Very recently, I took up yoga in a pretty serious way. I went one time with a girl friend about a week ago and have gone every single day since then. Honestly...$75 for unlimited yoga? It was an easy sell for me, even with my very limited budget. I don't know how it happened, but during one of my classes, I just started thinking while I was breathing: "Peace and love in; Hatred and fear out." I think it's become my mantra.

And it's started helping my understand and appreciate (dare I say, even begin to love) my body more than I ever have. My high arches allow for quick and light footfalls when I run. There's very little I can do about my teeth and gums, but my new dentist is dreamy in a (married) Michael Buble kind of way so I hate going to the dentist a lot less. My five-head looks pretty awesome when my hair is pulled back in a delightfully messy ponytail when I run. My dimpled ass is just a product of me getting a little older, but my legs are carrying me farther than I ever thought I'd go. And while I still don't like that I can't fill out a sundress, I can honestly say there's nothing better than not having to worry about my chest or back aching from that weight while I run.

Yoga is teaching me things I didn't think I could learn. Things like restoration and inner peace. I still have a long way to go on both of those fronts. I'm still a really frenetic, Type A monster most of the time. But for an hour a day, I can relax into myself and my breath and just...be. I think I could easily spend five or six hours flowing through gentle poses and it would probably be the most beneficial thing I'd ever do for myself.

And what makes this whole yoga thing even more relaxing to me is the knowledge that I can take it with me anywhere I go. Granted, I have a lot of learning to do before I can do this on my own. I'm a creature that thrives in structured environments where I'm told what to do...so the idea of going it alone in yoga is a bit overwhelming, but I'm hopeful I can get there. I have dreams of practicing on a front porch somewhere, overlooking the ocean. Or taking my mat camping with me and being a warrior and star gazer in the hills.

No matter where my life takes me, I'm convinced that yoga will go with me.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

On the fear of change....

I'm getting ready to move in the next several months. To another state. With more than just a duffel bag and a stereo. Sure, I've lived in another country (Canada) and another state (Minnesota), but when one moves away from home for college, it's not quite the same as moving away from home for...life. I'm about to uproot myself and my dogs and head east for a brand new adventure. New friends. New restaurants. New running trails. New church. New lots of things. I'm leaving my family for the first time in my entire life, but the good news is that where I'm heading, I have lots of other family close by...my brother,  about a billion cousins (it seems), and a few aunts and uncles. To be sure, I'm thrilled about the possibility of seeing them far more often than I have in the last 33 years (holy hell...am I really almost 33?!).

But what I'm discovering in all the emotional ups and downs that comes with moving, is that I'm kind of terrible at keeping friends. I make friends pretty easily. After all, I was always the kid the teacher put the new kids next to in school. Always. It's something my parents sort of held as a badge of honor when it came to me...I was the friendly one. But that seems to be about where it ends. I can make someone feel comfortable and at home, and then I just sort of trail off.

So when I think about moving away, I worry about losing most of the friends I've made during my lifetime in Colorado. I made plenty of friends when I lived in both Canada and Minnesota, but the reality is that I only really keep up with one of them. ONE. Granted, she's my best good buddy, but still...I made lots of friends while I was there. Or so I thought. I'm sure, or at least I'm hoping, I'm not the only one that experiences this feeling. I'm hoping I'm normal.

But it worries me. I've made some really incredible friends here and I wonder...when I move away, will all of that just dissipate? Will it all just go away? Maybe that's part of why I tend to be guarded when it comes to friends. I just panic that at some point, one of us is going to move away and we'll forget about each other and what's the point of really investing? It's a terrible way to go about life. Just awful. I have my very best Denver friend and I panic terribly about losing her. I think about going through our big life changes and how we won't be together for them.

I hate talking on the phone. Absolutely hate it. That's probably a huge part of why I struggle with maintaining friendships. I just don't like being on the phone. I can't really even bring myself to call my grandparents because I hate the phone so much. Thank goodness for Skype and FaceTime! I'm not sure why, but that seems so much less...awful. Frankly, I have an iPhone for email, texting, Facebook, and shopping. I hate using it for a phone. If I never used the phone app again, I probably wouldn't miss it. I dread listening to my voicemail. Seriously. It's like a phobia. Nothing about being on the phone excites me.

I've been going through all this miscellaneous relational madness for quite some time now. I often question who my friends are and if I'm even a friend to them. Compounding the issue, I often deal with feeling like I'm forgotten, not noticed, or simply ignored. It's probably all in my head. I'm sure it is. But it doesn't make it any less real, the way I feel.

It makes me wonder, because of this, if the life I'm about to embark on is what I was always meant to do? I'm not entirely sure. But the reality is, I'm sure I'll be moving more and more as the years go by. Friends will come and go. I will come and go. And was my entire life leading up to this just preparation? It's strange because I've always been the one to stay put while everyone else went away. And for the first time in my life, I'm the one that's leaving everyone else behind.

It's all very new. And scary. And incredibly exciting.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

On the first signs of love....

So I'm reading this book right now, Captivating. I honestly never thought I'd pick up a book like this. I'm not usually one for the churchy, Jesus-y books. They tend to be more than a little cliche, overbearing, and, well, judgmental. At least, that's my experience with this type of book. But it came on recommendation from someone whose reading taste I trust, so I decided to go for it. I rented it. And now...I want to own it. In paperback. So I can mark the crap out of it. It's been a pretty empowering read for me.

But a conversation I had last night is what's really sparking this post. And since we're less than twenty-four hours from Valentines Day (a day I have come to love and appreciate), this one is about romance.

There are some of us girls that were (and are) very lucky. We grew up with the World's Best Dad. He's probably got shirts and mugs and ties and posters and cards from years and years of his daughters thinking that. And it's not just that we *think* he's the best. He truly *is* the best. More than a few of us who have this dad probably, between the ages of three and five, asked our dad's to marry us. He's the coolest, strongest, smartest, most amazing dad ever, right?! Dad is the first place we really learn what romance is. Pure, uncomplicated, unconditional romance. Dad gave us flowers and took us out on "dates" and twirled us around when we wore our pretty party dresses. Dad told us we were the prettiest, smartest, most special girl in the world. Not because he had to. Not because he wanted something in return. He did it all just because. Because he could and he wanted to. That's why so many of us girls that have great dads tend to marry men just like him. I see the way my dad is with my mom and that's a lot of what I want. She's a powerful woman. A force to be reckoned with, to be sure. And my dad loves every bit of her and just sort of lets the hurricane that is my mother do what she's going to do...and he's been known to be disaster relief from time to time. But he loves that woman. And he can fix stuff and make stuff pretty and he's crazy smart. He's funny and talented and generous. He's passionate about his work, his life, his family, his faith. He's a leader in every facet of his existence.

I remember learning from my dad the way a boy should treat me. He should open doors and bring me flowers and take me to dinner and show. And he should do it all expecting nothing, but hoping for my thanks and adoration in return.

And isn't that what true love is? Isn't the act of loving someone supposed to be pure and simple? There should be no conditions. There is something strong and beautiful and unbreakable when love comes to us in its cleanest form. It seems, then, that if we expect nothing in return for love, we're basically guaranteed to get everything.

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Thursday, February 7, 2013

On missing the words....

Is it weird that I'm unnerved by the lack of writing going on around me? I have so many writer friends and so many of us are just, well, not writing right now...or any more. It's sad. And I honestly hope it's just a season we're all in. I miss reading the recipes, the quotes, the poetry, the rants, the advice, the goings-on, the reviews...I miss all of it. It's few and far between that I see one of us writing and even farther that I find myself writing. There's plenty to talk about, plenty to discuss. So why aren't we?

There have been a lot of things on my mind lately, some important, some absolutely pithy. So maybe as a diving board, I'll just put everything out there, in hopes someone(s) will jump in and we can start writing and talking again.

  • Can it really be that, for so long, we (the royal we) were more interested in the Manti Teo nonsense than Benghazi? Or the fact that Hillary Clinton kicked some serious ass on the Hill the other week?
  • Am I the only one that actually felt a little emboldended by Beyonce's halftime show? That was impressed when I saw nearly 200 people on stage and all of them were women?
  • It's just a little sad that every day, when I read the news, there's nothing happy happening. Someone is always getting killed, killing, or just doing something stupid. I wish that news, for one day, would report nothing but good news.
  • I'm on a mission to remove all negative words from my thought and speech. It's harder than it sounds, but when I actually get down to it, you wouldn't believe the shift my mental status makes. It's incredible really.
  • There are too many books that I want to read and not nearly enough time to read them all. I picked up a "Jesus-y" book the other day which was, I assure you, a surprise to me as well. So far, I don't hate it. I need more books titles to read.
  • Being a DINK was awesome. I want to be a DINK again. Sigh. If you don't know what that is or what it means, it's not really that important.

So there you have it. That's a sampling of what's been on my mind the last several weeks. So, dear writer friends, please...regale me with your own thoughts. I miss you!

Thursday, January 3, 2013

On reflections....

Well, it's that time of year. The time when I reflect on the year that's past and what lies ahead.


This was a big year. Bigger than I expected, in many ways. I experience so much more than I ever intended to, in both good and bad, happy and sad ways. The bad and the sad aren't things I like talking about. Does anyone enjoy talking about those things? Probably not. At least, not to anyone who isn't a therapist, right? And I promise I've done more than my fair share of that.

There are many lessons that I learned this year. It's hard to go through some of what I've dealt with and not learn at least something. I learned more about myself than I ever thought possible, to be honest. But there's one big important lesson I learned this year that I hope to carry with me forever.

Patience.

Back in February, when my life seemed like it was falling apart (and, for all intents and purposes, it was), I found comfort in the treadmill. For no reason other than escapism, I started running. I didn't have a goal or a purpose in mind. I just needed something to focus on that wasn't anything going on around me. So I ran. I downloaded a million different apps until I found the one I loved and I ran and ran and ran. I have plenty of friends that are hardcore distance runners so I tried to make my intentions very clear with my running: I was NOT going to run for a reason. I wasn't going to enter races or try to prove anything or try to keep up with them. I just needed something healthy to do.

Then the end of spring came and, like clockwork, I broke my own promise and thought, "If I can run one mile, surely I can run 13, right?" and I signed up for a race. The one thing I said I wouldn't do. But it gave me a goal which, retrospectively, I really needed. And I slowly - very slowly - began the process of training for a distance race. It was hard and often unpleasant. I discovered each weekend how many damn hills are in my city and how those hills would slow down my already dismal pace. But patience. All I had to do was finish. I wasn't racing anyone buy myself. I would be gone for hours and hours on the weekends, just running. I'd find myself in "therapy sessions" with my best good running friend for additional hours during the week and in the mountains. Patience. Patience. Patience.



I took a week off and discovered I had to scale my training back in order not to hurt myself. I hate that feeling. I hated feeling like I was moving backwards in my training. I hated feeling like I wasn't keeping up with whatever I wasn't keeping up with. Except that I *was* keeping up. It was just me and my trusty tennis shoes and we were doing just fine.



I finally ran my big race with one of my best friends (a girl is lucky to have one...I get to have two! And - bonus - they're both runners!) and OH. MY. GAWD. The patience it took to finish it. I started too hard, too fast, and two-thirds of the way in, I was just about down for the count. I'd run for 15 steps and walk for a quarter-mile. And this is how I finished the race. My best friend had extraordinary patience with my injured knee and me. She kept me on track and simultaneously focused and distracted (a skill we should all perfect at some time) and we finished together.



My knee (actually my IT band) took me out of the game really fast. I haven't been able to really run since September 30, but what I've learned is....patience. My knee knows what it needs. I know it will take time to recover and that I *can* recover with just a little time and, well, patience. So I take it slow, knowing that one mile will eventually turn into two, then five, then thirteen again before I know it. I have time so I might as well use it. I train, albeit slowly. Because nothing worth having happens fast...at least, not from what I can tell.