All Hail The King [of Country] + Get Over Yourself [Again]

I’ve admitted my undying love for country concerts before…I wish I could put my finger on what it is about them that makes me so incredibly happy. Some of my favorite memories include dancing the night away with a few of my closest and most amazing friends while watching one of my favorite artists just rock it out on stage. It brings a smile to my face. A full-on, ear-to-ear-*ish-eating-grin that you would have to see to believe.

I wasn’t always a country music fan. In fact, as a kid it was like torture sitting in my grandparents van when they’d play classic country. But once I started listening, I was hooked. And once I discovered country shows, it was over. The list is embarrassing: Gary Allan, Blake Shelton, Taylor Swift, Lady A, Darius Rucker, Kip Moore, Eric Church, Kenny Chesney, Sugarland, Brad Paisley, Tim Mcgraw, Jason Aldean, Jarrod Nieman, Miranda Lambert, Justin Moore, Chris Campbell, Zac Brown Band (at the Gorge!) Brooks and Dunn (!)…and more. The money I’ve spent? Also embarrassing. But I don’t regret a single dollar because of the abso-freakin-tastic-ti-cally amazing memories and laughs.

So you can imagine my excitement when George Strait, aka the KING of Country, announced he was coming to Seattle on his FINAL tour ever. I’d never seen George live, and Seattle is not a big country market, so a lot of big names skip the PNW. And then? I found out that Chris Young was opening for him. Chrisfreakingyoung. My fav country man, like, ever. I may or may not have a massive school-girl-giggly-crush on him.

[Any country artist who can get my uber-liberal-punk-and-moshpit-loving- friend to like country music has to be doing something right. Man. Can. Sing! And looks good in jeans. Oh, and I met him once and he was super nice and had read one of my tweets on Twitter and asked me about it. *swoon.* Sorry. I’ll focus.]

The tickets went on sale in October. I remember because my sister and brother-in-law were visiting and I forgot to purchase them right when they went on sale. Bummer because naturally a million folks hoping to make a buck snapped ’em up and put them on stub hub for way over the original price.

Oh well, I thought. The prices will have to come down at some point, right? And at the time, I hadn’t found anyone interested in going to the show yet, so against my plan-everything-in-advance-tendancies, I let it go and figured it would all work itself out somehow.

A small part of me also probably [read: definitely] expected that I’d have met someone or have a significant other by that point and he would want to take me for my birthday. Cause naturally anyone I date is going to have to like country and he would want to go too and wouldn’t that be, like, so perfect?

Oy. You see where this is going. [See “The Trouble with Optimism” if you’d like more history.]

What’s that saying? If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans?

As the date drew closer and closer, I was A. still single and B. still without a friend to go with me. I threw the idea out there to just about everyone I knew in Seattle. I may or may not have also suggested it to some non-creepy-looking-strangers. [kidding. kind of.] All I wanted for my birthday was to go to this concert.

Unfortunately, the tickets never did come down in price, I did not meet a Mr. Right [or even a “Mr. Right Now” whose company I enjoyed enough to ask] and in the weeks leading up to the show, I was a ball of ridiculous emotions that likely [read: definitely] had a lot less to do with the concert, and a lot more to do with “not being where I thought I’d be in life by this particular milestone” and homesickness for my friends back in the mitten.

In the days before, I started toying with the idea of going solo. I went back and forth – was it safe? would I have fun, or just feel weird? what else could I be buying with this money? would it bring me as much joy as this concert? who goes to a concert by themselves?!? probably only losers. does this make me a loser? [and several other mean, judge-y thoughts I’d prefer not to share.]

I know this is a firstworldproblem to the extreme. I know I sound spoiled and ridiculous.

On the Friday before, I found out that a co-worker and his wife were going, which made the idea of going alone a little more appealing. At least if something were to happen, there was someone within the vicinity that would know my whereabouts.

On the Saturday of the show, I made my decision: I’m going. Hell or high water, insecurities and loser-status-be-damned.

The tickets were not cheap, but once I had my ticket in hand, I was over the moon excited. I got ready, and hit the road to Tacoma, singing and tapping along to my favorite songs with the sun shining in my window the entire way.

I made it JUST in time to see Chris Young, which made me SO happy. Since no one was standing, I did some seat dancing and singing along and jamming. And honestly, it wasn’t weird. No one cared. No one looked at me funny. And no one judged me. [Well, not to my face at least.]

I met up with my colleague and his friends in between sets, and they were a fun group. The conversation, while short, was just what I needed, and we raced back to our respective seats when George came on.

George is not flashy or over the top. He is a simple man on a simple stage with a simple guitar. But when he sings…it’s unreal. His voice is classic country to the core, and he just has this indescribable connection with the audience. I totally got why he’d been so popular for decades [and why women young and old have a little crush on him]. He played for hours, and I just sat enthralled watching a legend. I may or may not have teared up when he sang “Troubadour” and “Cowboy Rides Away” knowing this really was when the cowboy was going to ride away. They just don’t make ’em like George anymore.

Honestly, going solo was liberating. I’ve done so many things alone – theater shows, baseball games, movies…but this felt different. More empowering because I almost let my insecurities hold me back, but didn’t? Maybe. Regardless of the reason, I would totally do it again. Go ahead, ask me about the show. You just might be witness to the ear-to-ear-*ish-eating-grin I described earlier.

Thanks for the memories and the life lesson, George.

 

 

Fun in the Sun [Valley].

An “imperfection” confession: I like to enter sweepstakes. Big and small, but usually silly ones, like “Win this hat!” or “Win so-and-so’s new CD!” Basically, not contests with essays. Just fill out the form to win.

I have done it since I was a kid.

Every time that Clearinghouse-Sweepstakes-thingy came to my parent’s house, I would pore through the magazines that I was going to order, fill out the form and beg my mom to let me buy the magazines to increase our chances of winning. I was convinced we were going to be bajillionaires this way.

[I am 167% sure my mother never sent it, which is why that Ed guy never showed up at our doorstep telling us we were going to be insta-millionaires. Psssh.]

[Also, one time I may or may not have VHS-tape-recorded the post-Super Bowl sweepstakes segment in case we won. Because, obviously if we DID win, I wouldn’t have heard Ed showing up at our door with a million cameras and people and balloons. So just in case we won, and I didn’t wake up, I wanted the video proof in the morning. What can I say? I was a weird kid.]

It’s ridiculous, I know. It’s that little moment of hope that one day, you’ll be the “chosen one” and winner of something, no matter how small. And also probably why I get no less than 30 items of ‘junk mail’ in my e-mail inbox every morning [plus dozens more throughout the day]. Also, I’ve never won a thing as far as I can remember. But I enter anyway.

Well folks, I’m here to tell you that dreams do come true. And sometimes, it’s worth the five seconds it takes to enter one of those ‘silly little contests’ because one day, it might be you.

Let me rewind:

A few months back, a friend of mine posted a random sweepstakes link from Alaska Airlines for a free trip to Sun Valley Film Festival.

I have: A. always dreamed of going to a film festival [in addition to having Ed-whats-his-name showing up at my door] and B. ever since I heard about this little place called Sun Valley, have had a MAJOR itchin’ to go. So, naturally, I entered. For the record, it was like, 9:47p.m. and I was half asleep. I’m lucky my e-mail address was even typed in right, and naturally had forgotten about it by morning.

A few days later, I was minding my business at my desk. It was a quiet Friday in the office, when my phone started to buzz…

Ketchum, Idaho? Who in the WORLD would be calling me from Ketchum, Idaho? Where IS Ketchum, Idaho? Idaho?No, U-Da-Ho! HA. Good one. *bbbzzzzt* Oooppps, phone’s still ringing.

[It’s how my brain works. Sorry?]

Professional voice: “Hi, This is LB.”

“Hi, LB. My name is CW and I’m calling regarding a sweepstakes you entered for the Sun Valley Film Festival.”

The rest is a bit of a blur, but I’m 183% sure she said I won. I also definitely remember that I stopped breathing for a moment or two and the phrases: “I WHAAAAAA?!?” and “SHUT. UP.” came out of my mouth.

Thank goodness for co-workers who let me have a freak-out moment, and Gchat so that I could immediately tell one of my bestest friends. Of course, everyone’s first question was, “Um, is this legit?!” YES, PEOPLE! THIS IS LEGIT!

[They must know about my dirty-little-enter-all-kinds-of-ridiculous-sweepstakes-secret.]

After scrambling over some initial details, I had my approved vacation time, room, and flight booked and just a few short weeks later, I was off to Sun Valley, Idaho with one of my bestest friends for a weekend of a lifetime.

If you’ve never been to Sun Valley, let me paint a little picture:

Imagine like, the cutest little resort town you’ve ever seen. Got it? Okay, throw in a little western flair, a little [ahem, a lot of] new-and-old hollywood money, ski bunnies and bums to boot, and high-desert-mets-snow-y-winter-wonderland.

I’m pinching myself just describing it.

It was exactly what I needed. Just a few short weeks after my grandma’s passing, I was with a girlfriend who is basically family and knew when I just needed a moment, taking in independent films and popping in and out of the darndest little shops, eating at the most adorable little restaurants, attempting to ski while taking in some of the most gorgeous scenery at 9,000 feet.

Oh, and sitting by a heated pool in our swimsuits with snow and mountains all around us.

It was by far one of my favorite vacations, and a weekend I will never, ever forget. Thank you, Sun Valley Lodge, Alaska Airlines, Sun Valley Film Festival and my friend, JD, for an absolutely perfect weekend. I cannot wait to come back some day.

[Needless to say, this experience has done nothing for my mild-enter-ridiculous-contest-addiction.]

Thank You, Grandma.

“The day which we fear is our last is but the birthday of eternity.” – Lucius Annaeus Seneca

I always enjoyed celebrating my grandma B’s birthday. Perhaps because the extended family was usually all together. Perhaps because for so many years, we spent it at my family’s cottage, one of my grandma’s favorite places, where she loved to watch the water from the back deck. Perhaps because it almost always involved fresh raspberries. Or perhaps because it was a day that she actually let us celebrate her, because she was pretty darn stubborn and didn’t necessarily love attention. 

I now have a new birthday to celebrate. 

Grieving is a funny thing. One moment, you’ll be going about your day as if nothing has happened. The next moment, your eyes pool with tears when you see fresh raspberries in the grocery store. It has been a few weeks, but every once in awhile, a wave of sadness comes over me. 

To say I’m going to miss my grandma would be the understatement of the century. She was the one who stayed with my sister and I when my parents went on vacation. Who made puzzles with us (even though she hated them) on New Year’s Eve. Who taught me how to lick the brownie batter bowl. Who shared with me her love of dancing and musicals (and her VHS tapes of “The King and I” and “Fiddler on the Roof”). Who always had a small pad of yellow paper in her desk drawer with a softly sharpened pencil. Who kept Legos and fresh crayons in her side table at all times for when we came over as kids. Who inspired me to keep traveling, and loved to hear my stories when I came home. 

She was a Detroit-er to the core; someone who got knocked down and always got back up. Who always served Better Made pretzels, potato chips and french onion dip at the holidays. Who had the Lions on when we showed up for Thanksgiving. Who bought her nylons at Hudson’s, loved shows at the Fisher Theater and appreciated an authentic Coney dog more than anyone I’ve ever known. And she always, always drove a domestic vehicle. 

She hated “boom boom” music, and kept Budwieser in her fridge, even though she never drank the stuff. She loved watching a good quarterback in action [and frequently missed her phone ringing because she’d had a game on too loud]. When she cooked, she rarely ate dinner with us, because along the way, she’d sample a bite of everything. And as she put it all away afterwards, she always licked the spoon before throwing it in the dishwasher. [To this day, I do the same.] 

Until the moment she died, she was sharp as a tack, making people laugh and could still kick my ass in Euchre. She wasn’t afraid to tell you what she thought, and had lost her verbal-filter years ago. 

[We used to compete over who had the best ‘grandma’s-lost-her-filter’ story. For the record, I still think I win for a gem she shared at the cottage quite some time back. Although this line from Christmas this past year was a good one: “I have a sexy walk! Guys still comment on it. Even at 86, I still got it.”] 

She may have had a tough exterior, but her heart was huge. She had a tough life, but never sat around whining about it. 

The morning she passed, my dad called me. To not be there was more painful than I can describe, and I don’t think it will all truly sink in until I go home this summer. 

I cannot be angry, and to wish for one more day would only be selfish. She passed exactly the way she wanted: quickly, with dignity and knowing that her family loved her deeply. She made her wishes quite clear: when it’s my time, please let me go. And the doctors had no choice but to follow her wishes. With modern medicine, she probably could have had a few more years, but the last thing she would have wanted was to feel like a burden to anyone. She was independent until her last day. 

She wasn’t perfect. But she was one hell of a woman, and I am so thankful to have been able to call her my grandma.  

Thank you, grandma, for showing me love, and kindness and patience and always, always, always believing in my dreams. I hope I can make you proud always and forever. 

Happy birthday. I love you.  

Thoughts and Prayers

“What is it about grandparents that is so lovely? I’d like to say that grandparents are God’s gifts to children.” – Bill Cosby

I try to keep it relatively light on here, but today has been a day for reflection and a reminder how quickly your life can change.

As a kid, and even to this day, there has always been a copy of Guideposts magazine at my parents house. In fact, I can picture exactly where it is, and approximately how many back issues are in the stack until my mom cleans it out. They live in a similar place at my grandparents house. It’s a constant from childhood that has always brought a sense of home to me. Every year, my grandma J renews the subscription. Sometimes, when I am home visiting, I open the drawer just to make sure they are still there and read the latest issue.

For those not familiar with Guideposts, it’s a “Chicken Soup for the Soul” meets bible study. It’s stories of inspiration and faith and hope. For the most part, it is ordinary people who have experienced something life changing, and their story about how it’s changed their outlook, strengthened their faith, or impacted the way they live.

I used to read it cover to cover. While we were not an overly religious home, the Guideposts stories were my constant and always left me with a little bit of peace and awareness… even when I felt 100% alone, there was someone looking out for me. For that, I was incredibly grateful.

One story, many, many years ago stuck with me. While the details are fuzzy, the gist is this: a woman had made a point to say a little prayer every time she heard an ambulance go by with sirens. One day while at home, she heard an ambulance nearby, and said her prayer. Little did she know she was saying a prayer for her son, who had been in an accident at school. She received the call a few moments later, and was on her way to the hospital.

In the end, her son was okay, but her commitment to praying for the person in the ambulance and their family was reinforced.

To this day, whenever I hear an ambulance, I do the same.

Which brings me to this morning… I received a call from my sister at 6:37a.m. I knew when I picked up the phone – something wasn’t right. My grandma B, who has been having health troubles recently, was found unconscious after calling 911 and taken by ambulance to the ER.

Being so far away from home can be hard. But when a family emergency occurs, it can be excruciating. You know there is little you could do if you were there, but you just want to be there.

The thing that has brought me comfort is that as she was being cared for by paramedics, and on her way to the hospital, I am 100% sure that someone, somewhere along the way heard the sirens and said a little prayer for my grandma.

She is now stable, but there are still unknowns and she will likely be in the hospital for at least several days. My sometimes-extreme independence and inability to ask for help comes in part from my grandma B, which is why I wanted to share it here – it’s part of my own imperfections and awesomeness. She’s one tough cookie. But we all need a little help sometimes, so here goes: please keep her – and those caring for her – in your thoughts and prayers this week.

Thank you.

I’ll Be There For You…

The TV show “Friends” came out when I was in my early middle school years. I knew the theme song by heart, thanks to the radio’s eagerness to overplay any popular song to death. But my parents were relatively conservative, and the topics covered in the show just weren’t on their “that’s-acceptable-for-my-children-to-watch-list.”

[Probably not surprisingly, also on that list was “Married with Children,” and “The Simpsons.” I was, however, allowed to play the Simpsons video game at the local bar after softball games. Go figure.]

But let’s get real: we also had a wicked early bedtime, so the opportunity to watch these ‘banned’ shows was relatively limited. 

[For the record, we also didn’t have cable growing up, so most MTV references were also completely lost on me. I wish I could blame my teenage-awkwardness on lack of social awareness but there were a whole lot of other reasons I didn’t fit in, including my penchant for all things nerdy and several head gears.]

Even as I got older, and my parents had significantly less control over what I could watch, I’m a person who likes order. [Shocking.] Because I hadn’t started watching the show from the beginning, I never really took to it. I distinctly remember my freshman year of college when all the girls in the hall would start getting ready on Thursday nights, and then all gather in someone’s room to catch the latest episode before heading out for the evening. I was so confused as to why the Rachel-Ross dilemma was such a big deal, so I was usually left out of these gatherings. 

Fast forward 10 years [ack! How has it been that long!?!] and a new co-worker joins our team. Her knowledge of random Friends trivia and quotes is impressive, to say the least, and her references are completely lost on me. It’s like middle school all over again, and I’m completely clueless. 

So, given it’s winter, and I’m trying to practice relaxation, and it’s rainy in Seattle, I took her up on her offer to borrow the DVDs. 

[Also, I’ve watched Leap Year and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days while cooking more times than anyone should be allowed. Also, also, I live alone so there’s no one to stop me from watching those movies on repeat. An intervention was necessary.]

Holy. Hilarity. Batman. I get it now!

Sure, the outfits bring back fond memories of my own fashion disasters. But beyond that, I’m really, really thankful I’ve never really watched the show before. Now, I am in the age range that most of the characters were when the show started. At 28, they were no where near having their lives together or having it all figured out – which is highly comforting in a weird way. And it all played out on TV. Brilliant.

Their insecurities and experiences, while sometimes a little out there, hit close to home. Their witty humor and casual-ness makes you feel like you are sitting in the coffee shop with them. And you can relate to those moments when you need your friends to call you out when you’re being ridiculous, and those moments when all you want to do is pop by your best friends for some gossip, a glass of wine and a hug.  

I’m sure I’m preaching to the choir, because most of ya’ll already know how awesome it was. But if you have a moment of “why don’t I have it all figured out yet?!?” Go back. Watch a few episodes again. You won’t regret it. 

It’s very rare that I can sit on the couch and watch several episodes of a show in a row. But I get it now. I’m a little [okay, a lot] late to the party, but I’m cool with that. I never really was one on top of the trends anyway.

[ps. I know some of the basics of how it ends, but not the details. Even though I am WAY behind, no spoilers please! 🙂 ]

Pizza and French Fries and Conquering Fears

Warning: this post has absolutely nothing to do with food. So if you were hoping for a new recipe or something of the like, disappointment will follow if you continue reading.

Now that that’s out of the way….

In 2014, I made a commitment to continue a challenge I set forth in 2013: each month, I wanted to do something either special for myself or something to push me totally outside of my comfort zone. Last year, I look back on how much I learned about myself and grew, and at the risk of sounding cheesy, I never want that learning and growing to stop. It also helped me to make some rather significant life changes… prioritizing healthy foods and sleep, reducing my alcohol intake [more on that later], finding healthier ways to deal with stress and picking up new hobbies – all of which made me happier and provided a sense of fulfillment.

[Deep, I know.]

So back to those french fries and pizza…

For growing up in a very cold, snowy state, my skiing exposure was very limited. Neither of my parents skied, and while I had a few friends that did, it just never totally appealed to me. The one time we did go on a family vacation to try to ski, it was a miserable winter and our trip was cut short by freezing rain and whining [mostly from me, I’m sure].  And when I tried snowboarding a few years ago, I fell. A LOT. My poor bum couldn’t be put through that again.

Fast forward, and I now live in a state where giant, real mountains abound and within a one-to-two hour drive, you can be surrounded by nature in all it’s glory.

And, a whole bunch of the peeps I know here ski. So if I want to see them in the winter, there’s that.

I somehow wrangled a friend [thank you, M!] in to my shenanigans and we met at the butt-crack of dawn to tackle this new challenge head-on.

[Thank goodness for a good night’s sleep and coffee.]

We decided to take a lesson, since strapping crazy boots and long boards to your feet without some instruction seemed completely irresponsible. Plus, given my body doesn’t totally recover like it did when I was 12, I figured having an idea of what I was doing would be helpful to prevent total destruction.

To say I was nervous would be an understatement. Poor M saw my nervous-ninny-ness kick in to full gear about one hour prior. I was shaking a bit, checking and rechecking my pockets to make sure I had everything I needed, running through various potential outcomes out loud, etc. etc.

[Shocking to no one who knows me: basically, I’m a perfectionist and being vulnerable in front of others/not wanting to totally suck scared the poopy-ca-ca outta me. Also, there’s a lack of control that comes with those long boards strapped to your feet and, well, I didn’t want to die.]

And then something funny happened: the lesson started, and I didn’t totally suck. I wasn’t great, but I wasn’t awful. We learned about pizza and french fries, and practiced over and over until we felt comfortable. At the risk of bragging a bit, M and I were some of the tops in our class, so we got to try the chair lift and we pizza-and-french-fried all the way down the  bunny hill.

I felt the hard work and dedication from my boot camp class kind of kick in, and my legs felt strong. Like they really belonged to me and I actually had some control over their normal gangly-ness. I mean, let’s get real: I still looked like a total beginner. But I was 100% okay with that.

Our instructor, and a few friends, encouraged us to try the next step up – still a beginner hill, but a longer chair lift and longer run.

Panic once again set-in. Nervous-ninny came out and started saying ridiculous things out loud. But, spoiler alert: I DIDN’T DIE!

M and I coached each other down the hill. It was completely terrifying and thrilling at the same time. Completely. But after the moments of  terror, I learned that I’m much stronger turning right than left, [my poor left side was sore as all get-out the next day], a few deep breathes and staying calm can get you through a moment of panic and if you stop thinking so much, your body has a pretty good idea of what to do.

[It was particularly terrifying after a young gentleman stopped me and asked for assistance in getting the medics because he had broken his arm snowboarding. Not what you want to see/hear as you are trying to make it down a hill alive and in one piece…]

[Also, the poor guy obviously didn’t realize I was a total NOOB or how long it was going to take me to get to the bottom. Thankfully I was able to flag someone down with a radio so he didn’t have to wait to find out.]

At the end of the day, I was EXHAUSTED. But in the most awesome, holy-cow-I-just-did-that-kind-of-way. Sure, I only made it down the larger hill once. But by the end, the bunny hill was my b*-otch, I only fell once, and I had pushed myself outside of my comfort zone.

All in all, I’d call that a success.

We’re planning to go again, and my goal isn’t to be speeding down black diamonds or hitting the moguls… but simply to develop a higher level of comfort when strapping crazy boots to my feet in the future.

I. Can’t. Wait.

[Special thanks to M for always pushing me to push myself. *xo.]

[Also, I have a whole new level of appreciation for the Winter Olympics. Props, ya’ll.]

Studio Art.

Someone [thanks to the help of her parents while she was home for the holidays] realized the significant cost savings of purchasing her morning coffee pods with her Costco membership.

Someone forgot she lives in a studio apartment and has minimal storage space.

Thankfully, same someone needed some decorations above her fridge.

I call this piece of art “Morning Glory.”

While it’s not quite what I had in mind, I’m sure it will provide much inspiration for many months to come.

You Can Call Me Mayor. [Well, For Now.]

For being in communications roles that often require me to be up on social media, I am actually quite terrible at keeping up with all the new-fangled social media apps personally. I try. [Correction: I give moderate effort.] But between twitter, instagram, foursquare, facebook, snapchat, linkedin and the others that I’m not even aware exist, I do a moderately miserable job. And it’s making me feel a little old and out of touch. So I go in fits and spurts with all of them, depending on my mood and what appears to be most popular at the moment. [It’s a highly scientific method.]

Here’s the funny thing: I never thought much of it really…I’d check in every now and then on Foursquare, earn a few badges. Tweet every once in awhile [it’s a great way to get in touch with a corporation if you want to get their attention.] And scroll through my newsfeed.

I held the title of mayor at my gym/boot camp classes on Foursquare, because, well, no one else ever really checked in. It was like, the one mayorship I held for more than a week. [My parents would be so proud.]

Until Thanksgiving 2012. When, after holding the title for a year, I received a notice that someone [with a name similar to mine] had “ousted me.”

What?!? Not cool, Robert Frost. Not cool.

Meh, oh well. [Apparently the competitive gene skipped me in my uber-competitive family.] I figured I’d just keep checking in every now and then. And maybe at some point I’d earn it back.

Until one day, I had a conversation with the new mayor. I didn’t know she was the mayor at first, as I’d never formally met her. We got to chatting. She’s relatively shy, but once I realized who she was, I said “so YOU’RE the one who stole the mayorship on FourSquare!”

And she smiled slyly. “I am! You’re the one I stole it from??”

 “Yep! I was a little disappointed, but I figure I’ll earn it back at some point…”

 To which her response surprised me:

“Haha We’ll see! It might sound silly, but it’s what gets me here in the mornings. I know you held it forever, and knowing there is someone else that could steal it back from me… it keeps me motivated to keep coming.”

Huh. So by taking five seconds to “check-in” at the gym each morning, I was actually helping someone with their health and wellness goals? Who knew?!? Certainly not I, who was doing it just for ish-&-giggles. It was another reminder that sometimes, you have no idea the impact you are making on someone’s life.

Challenge. Accepted. [Okay, this is where my competitive side came out.]

As I’ve increased the frequency of classes I take, it has kept her on her toes. I’ve only overtaken the mayorship twice in the last year, but each time, she seeks me out in classes and says “I got the notice and don’t you worry, I’ll get it back!”

Silly? I used to think it was. And I’d considered writing off FourSquare because I don’t always see the point. But knowing that I am making a difference to someone, however small, means so much to me…and is now keeping ME motivated on days I might consider sleeping in an extra 30 minutes. I’d say it’s a five-second habit worth keeping.

Also, for the time being, please feel free to refer to me as “mayor.”

*xo. 

Holiday Hiatus + Lessons Learned

Yep, I took a little hiatus for the holidays. But it was good for the mind, body and soul. And I really, really needed it. Plus, it gave me lots of time to reflect, which means: a new post! [You’re welcome.]

Yes, it’s another list. It’s the only way I can attempt to organize my thoughts. [Sorry?]

Things I Learned This Holiday Season:

• I really, really [really] like Christmas music. Not everyone shares my love or enthusiasm.
• You can’t see everyone. Or do everything. As much as you want to and as much as you miss people like crazy and just want to hug them all. And sometimes, when you realize you can’t do it all, you just need to have a good scotch and chat with your parents in the family room in front of the Christmas tree. Or sit in your pj’s all day planning a big trip with your momma.  
• Some traditions just Never. Get. Old. Case in point #1: finding a pickle on a tree and scratching off lottery tickets. Case in point #2: starting a giant puzzle over the holidays and staying up late Christmas night to work on it.
• Soak up every moment. If you overbook yourself, you might not get the chance to really, truly be present when visiting with family + friends.
• Healthy cookies taste like healthy cookies. Or bird seed. [Also, if anyone has a good recipe, let me know…cause mine were a hashtagfail.]
• Healthy pancakes, however, actually taste decent. As long as you add lots of grade b maple syrup. Which may defeat the purpose. [Whatever.]
• It’s freaking cold in Michigan. [I had forgotten. Thanks for the reminder, mitten.] But a walk outside after a fresh snowfall is just awesome and warms the heart a bit. It can’t be beat.
• My family friends, neighbors, friends and family are, like, amazing. Truly. And I continue to be so thankful to have them in my world and be in awe of their awesomeness.
• Eating healthy is really hard while travelling. And even though I’ve given up most processed sugars, I cannot give up my ginger ale on a plane. It just ain’t gonna happen. I already gave up my Biscoff cookie. Let me have my ginger ale pleaseandthankyou.
• It’s okay to do your own thing on NYE. Don’t “should” yourself to death. It won’t make you happy in the end. Doing what you want? Will make you happy. Own it. [See: previous post “Who Shoulded On That?”]
• Random acts of kindness still exist. [To the woman at the movie theater who gave me her extra ticket: thank you. You have no idea the difference you made in someone’s night with that small gesture.]
• I love fireworks. Apparently, I love my sleep more. It was 11:00p.m. when I got home from the movie on New Year’s Eve, and it seemed like entirely too much effort to stay up for another hour to catch the fireworks display off of the space needle. Also, this may be proof I’m getting old. Also, also – I’ve lived in Seattle for three New Year’s now, and I’ve never truly been able to take in the whole show. This should perhaps be a goal for next year.
• New Year’s Eve is amateur night for a lot of folks. I kind of knew this, but saw several hot messes on my way back from the theater. And it was only 11p.m. Getittogetherpeople.
• Not being hung over on New Year’s Day makes your traditional Lake Union Walk more enjoyable. It also allows you to accomplish a ridiculous amount of stuff to kick off the new year.
• I miss hockey on tv.
• I miss pond-ice-skating.
• I actually kind of miss snow. Who’da thunk it?
• Hallmark movies are amazing. [See: previous post.] And once they go away, there may be a giant void in your life that you have to adjust to. [Does that sound pathetic? Maybe a little. Meh. Feel free to judge. I’m okay with it.]
• Having something to look forward to after the holidays makes it a little less disappointing once they are over. [I’m lookin’ at you, kid. You know who you are.]

I’m sure I’ve forgotten some, but that’ll do for now…  

As the holidays wind down, I am really, really thankful to have been able to spend time with family and friends who mean the world to me. Thank you for all the hugs, laughs, and time.

I’ve decided to continue with the monthly-random-personal-challenges, so stay tuned. First up: a ski lesson with a dear friend who will not hesitate to laugh with me when I fall on my bum for the gajillionth time in one day. Cannot. WAIT!

*xo

Be That Girl.

I’m terrible at math, but if I were to make a guess, I’d say that 99% of the time, you hear someone say “don’t be THAT girl” much more frequently than “be that girl.”

You know, “don’t be the duck-face-selfie-girl.” Or “don’t be the see-through-leggings-girl.” Or “don’t be the clingy-drunk-girl.”

And 98.5% of the time I usually agree.

But sometimes? You gotta dance to your own beat. Break the rules. Let loose. Be proud. And just let your inner wild-child run free.

Sometimes, you can’t be afraid to be that girl.

I give you: exhibit A. The definition of ‘being awesome’ today.

[Her finale is fantastic. She takes it right through to the end. Way to stick with it, girl.]

[Also, I can’t say I haven’t had the urge to get up and do something like this in the middle of a meeting that appears to be going in circles. Thankfully for my career, I’ve managed to control myself.]