First and foremost, happy happy 7.75 years to my favorite leap year baby! I hope you find 31 to be...comfortable. :o)
Don't you love it when the Universe sends you signs?
Like my yoga friend, Suzi. She might be moving to London, and while her husband is over there checking things out, she found an apartment online that she really liked.
Upon his House Hunters International search, he found that on the same street is not one but two yoga studios, a park for their soon-to-be family of four, and a train station with a direct line to his maybe new job.
Hello Universe. Thank you for speaking.
So tonight, I was not very comfortable with the yoga class I taught. I'm okay saying it out loud to the blog world because a.) I know I'm not first instructor to think that and b.) Just because I thought it was awful doesn't mean someone didn't get something amazing out of it.
So I'm driving home, kinda-sorta-okay-really beating myself up about it (one girl didn't even wait for savasana!), and the most pertinent song comes on the radio...not once...twice.
You're so mean...when you talk...about yourself...you were wrong
Change the voices...in your head...make them like you instead
So complicated...look happy...you'll make it
Hello Universe. Thank you for speaking. And thanks for channeling those words through Pink. She's pretty rad. But the video for this song is disturbing and made me cry.
My last little bit of comfort wisdom I think I'll need to take an extra big dose of: change your thoughts. Let them be good, comforting, and pleasant. As soon as the thoughts change, as soon as you stop dwelling on all of the ugh, the ick, the unpleasant, the negative, the uncomfortable--the sooner your outlook on life will change. And when you dwell on positive things, you only invite the positive into your life.
February's month of comfort is now complete. I'm so excited about the intention for March, which is...
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
2.27.11
Today's comfort was brought to me today by simplicity...
...spending the morning with coffee, watching Greg and Will play tackle football and then build blocks. So simple and yet so...another one of those moments that you just sit and bask in because it's the most perfect moment in your little world ever.
...wearing my new lululemon run:speed shorts all day long.
...eating tater tots and ranch dressing (quite possibly my most favorite guilty pleasure food combo) for dinner.
...taking a Sunday drive with Will asleep in the back seat, and chatting with my sweet husband.
...feeling the warm sunshine, although it was a brief appearance.
...Cooper the scaredy lab curling up on my lap during the thunderstorm.
...ending the night rocking and reading to my sweet William.
...spending the morning with coffee, watching Greg and Will play tackle football and then build blocks. So simple and yet so...another one of those moments that you just sit and bask in because it's the most perfect moment in your little world ever.
...wearing my new lululemon run:speed shorts all day long.
...eating tater tots and ranch dressing (quite possibly my most favorite guilty pleasure food combo) for dinner.
...taking a Sunday drive with Will asleep in the back seat, and chatting with my sweet husband.
...feeling the warm sunshine, although it was a brief appearance.
...Cooper the scaredy lab curling up on my lap during the thunderstorm.
...ending the night rocking and reading to my sweet William.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
2.26.11
Today was all about sangha: our yogic word for community.
There is something to be said for being comfortable around what you know. It's probably why Greg and I have always returned to (and now settled in) the community in which we were raised.
We started our day by brunching with a couple we found via google and a blog who are also having their home renovated by the same HGTV show. They are spectacularly nice, and we had so much in common, right down to our car! I think going through this renovation/TV show experience with someone else will be immensely fun...not to mention the mutual support we can give. And new friends!
We then ended our day with a yogahOMe party for two of my favorite yogis, Gina & Jan. They owned our Bellevue studio, and are now packing up and heading back to Colorado. Gina leaves as soon as tomorrow morning, and Jan will be soon to follow.
Aside from the fact that I got to squeeze on Gina and Jan one last time (well, not "last" per se...I'll see them again), there are always guarantees about yogahOMe sangha parties.
1. There will always be amazing food. I made chocolate covered strawberries, there were cheeses, hummus, and the most divine salmon from Salt of the Earth (it's on Redbank Road--if you haven't been you must go), and a cake with an OM symbol that our owner, Katy, actually chanted to the baker over the phone and described in great detail how to create it. Glorious.
2. There will always be wine.
3. The wine will always lead to dancing.
4. I will always get teary, in some capacity, whether it's from the wine, or the sheer bliss of being totally in love with every person in the room, the energy, the music, the soaking in of emotion. This little moment got me a little misty, as Will explored the Symmes studio, fascinated by the lighted tree in the center. He twirled and danced and laughed right along with us.
5. There will always be a circle, filled with sharing, wishes, and blessings. That'll get me misty too.
So we wished Gina and Jan well. Gina really coached me through my first teaching experiences to the general public. She watched Will grow inside my belly and out. She and I would talk for hours on these great wooden benches, always with a cup of tea. She fostered this comfortable environment that drew people into the studio. And although that studio no longer exists, and she and her husband (who, by the way, is an incredibly interesting and caring man who helped Greg quite a bit a few years back) are moving on, the comfort that they brought to us will be held in our hearts, and remembered fondly with smiles, OMs, and love. Always love.
And I can't wait to practice next to them, comfortably, on a mat in Colorado.
Shanti. Shanti. Shanti. Om.
There is something to be said for being comfortable around what you know. It's probably why Greg and I have always returned to (and now settled in) the community in which we were raised.
We started our day by brunching with a couple we found via google and a blog who are also having their home renovated by the same HGTV show. They are spectacularly nice, and we had so much in common, right down to our car! I think going through this renovation/TV show experience with someone else will be immensely fun...not to mention the mutual support we can give. And new friends!
We then ended our day with a yogahOMe party for two of my favorite yogis, Gina & Jan. They owned our Bellevue studio, and are now packing up and heading back to Colorado. Gina leaves as soon as tomorrow morning, and Jan will be soon to follow.
Aside from the fact that I got to squeeze on Gina and Jan one last time (well, not "last" per se...I'll see them again), there are always guarantees about yogahOMe sangha parties.
1. There will always be amazing food. I made chocolate covered strawberries, there were cheeses, hummus, and the most divine salmon from Salt of the Earth (it's on Redbank Road--if you haven't been you must go), and a cake with an OM symbol that our owner, Katy, actually chanted to the baker over the phone and described in great detail how to create it. Glorious.
2. There will always be wine.
3. The wine will always lead to dancing.
4. I will always get teary, in some capacity, whether it's from the wine, or the sheer bliss of being totally in love with every person in the room, the energy, the music, the soaking in of emotion. This little moment got me a little misty, as Will explored the Symmes studio, fascinated by the lighted tree in the center. He twirled and danced and laughed right along with us.
So we wished Gina and Jan well. Gina really coached me through my first teaching experiences to the general public. She watched Will grow inside my belly and out. She and I would talk for hours on these great wooden benches, always with a cup of tea. She fostered this comfortable environment that drew people into the studio. And although that studio no longer exists, and she and her husband (who, by the way, is an incredibly interesting and caring man who helped Greg quite a bit a few years back) are moving on, the comfort that they brought to us will be held in our hearts, and remembered fondly with smiles, OMs, and love. Always love.
And I can't wait to practice next to them, comfortably, on a mat in Colorado.
Friday, February 25, 2011
2.25.11
So, I made a decision today that makes me feel waaaaaaay more comfortable in my skin, but I'm a little bit uncomfortable blogging about it.
However, this is what I intended to do, right?
Several months ago, Greg and I started running together. I hadn't run in years, I finally fixed my knee, and we were rolling along, having fun** and doing it as a family.
**having fun is the key concept to this.
Then we decide to run the Cincy half marathon.
Then Greg gets hurt.
Then I decide to keep going--and enlist my cousin Brandon as my training partner.
Today, I had to break up with my training partner. Our phone call was totally a "It's not you, it's me" conversation.
And it's all me. It is. I'm not quitting. I'm withdrawing my desire to do it. Here's why.
1. I'm a summertime, hot weather, the higher the humidity the better kind of runner. This cold weather stuff is for the birds. (Or not...since they fly south during the cold months.)
2. I'm taking away precious moments from my family so I can do what...train? Ugh. An hour here, an hour there, travel time factored in...double ugh.
3. **remember those stars from above** It's not fun. I get that there are a lot of people out there who live to run, who feel accomplished and stoked and blahblahblah. I think I lost it years ago. I think my "runner's high" moved on to other areas of my life. And I miss pounding the pavement with Greg. That was what made it fun. That's what made it completely different from what it was years ago. Which is what leads me to number 4...
4. ...it's bringing back some bad habits, old ways of thinking, and a lifestyle I left behind years ago. Greg called it "excer-rexic" back then, and it's making its way back. It was not a good time, and the pressure I choose to put on myself when I "train" is just not worth it. Life is too vibrant, too much fun to slip back into those dark "You ate what?! And you only ran how far?!" moments.
Maybe they needed to make me uncomfortable one more time so that I could give them a final farewell.
And after divulging all of this, I might, in the eyes of any of you sweet blog readers, still be seen as a wimpy quitter.
I'm okay with that. :o) But I know that I'm not.
Perhaps that's all too dark for a Friday night...my apologies.
The bright spot in all of this is that Greg and I will continue to run piddly little 5Ks here and there; we'll continue to run, and we'll keep up this spinning and yoga and whatever new thing we decide to do. But the best part--the absolute bestest, most fabulous part of this all--is that I will do it with the guy that makes it fun, that made it worth going back to in the first place.
How's that for bringing January and February full-circle? ;o)
However, this is what I intended to do, right?
Several months ago, Greg and I started running together. I hadn't run in years, I finally fixed my knee, and we were rolling along, having fun** and doing it as a family.
**having fun is the key concept to this.
Then we decide to run the Cincy half marathon.
Then Greg gets hurt.
Then I decide to keep going--and enlist my cousin Brandon as my training partner.
Today, I had to break up with my training partner. Our phone call was totally a "It's not you, it's me" conversation.
And it's all me. It is. I'm not quitting. I'm withdrawing my desire to do it. Here's why.
1. I'm a summertime, hot weather, the higher the humidity the better kind of runner. This cold weather stuff is for the birds. (Or not...since they fly south during the cold months.)
2. I'm taking away precious moments from my family so I can do what...train? Ugh. An hour here, an hour there, travel time factored in...double ugh.
3. **remember those stars from above** It's not fun. I get that there are a lot of people out there who live to run, who feel accomplished and stoked and blahblahblah. I think I lost it years ago. I think my "runner's high" moved on to other areas of my life. And I miss pounding the pavement with Greg. That was what made it fun. That's what made it completely different from what it was years ago. Which is what leads me to number 4...
4. ...it's bringing back some bad habits, old ways of thinking, and a lifestyle I left behind years ago. Greg called it "excer-rexic" back then, and it's making its way back. It was not a good time, and the pressure I choose to put on myself when I "train" is just not worth it. Life is too vibrant, too much fun to slip back into those dark "You ate what?! And you only ran how far?!" moments.
Maybe they needed to make me uncomfortable one more time so that I could give them a final farewell.
And after divulging all of this, I might, in the eyes of any of you sweet blog readers, still be seen as a wimpy quitter.
I'm okay with that. :o) But I know that I'm not.
Perhaps that's all too dark for a Friday night...my apologies.
The bright spot in all of this is that Greg and I will continue to run piddly little 5Ks here and there; we'll continue to run, and we'll keep up this spinning and yoga and whatever new thing we decide to do. But the best part--the absolute bestest, most fabulous part of this all--is that I will do it with the guy that makes it fun, that made it worth going back to in the first place.
How's that for bringing January and February full-circle? ;o)
Thursday, February 24, 2011
2.24.11
Greg and I have amped up our workout routine and decided to change it up a bit.
So tonight: spinning. Stepping far outside my comfort zone on this one.
The most uncomfortable thing (aside from my rear, which I'll get to in a second) was walking into class and saying, "Hey! We're new! We have no clue what to do, how to position the bike, or what to expect!" I don't know why that is so uncomfortable for me...it's like being the new kid in school.
The instructor, who's biceps glistened in the sweaty lighting, was friendly, kind, and helpful. She sat us on bikes, and away we went.
Dim the lights...
...cue the music...
...I literally thought a movie was going to come on. (No really--aren't there spinning classes where you watch movies or am I making that up?) Work out in the dark?
Well thank the good Lord it was dark--I wouldn't want anyone to witness the faces I was making during intervals, sprints, jumps, or whatever the heck any of that stuff is called.
Halfway through, I looked at Greg and said, "This isn't for wussies. I'm a wussy."
I'll be honest...it was tough, but nothing I felt was going to make me die. I walked away with a thirst for more (and about a gallon of water), and an intense 60 minutes of solid cardio under my belt. Also under my belt: a rear end that doesn't hurt until I sit down. And then it's like I'm sitting on rocks and those pointy things at the top of wrought iron fences.
Aaaaand I can't wait to go back next week.
Spinning tip from yoga: if you know mula bandha and uddiana bandha, it is sooooooo helpful in the stand up riding. Grateful for that knowledge.
So tonight: spinning. Stepping far outside my comfort zone on this one.
The most uncomfortable thing (aside from my rear, which I'll get to in a second) was walking into class and saying, "Hey! We're new! We have no clue what to do, how to position the bike, or what to expect!" I don't know why that is so uncomfortable for me...it's like being the new kid in school.
The instructor, who's biceps glistened in the sweaty lighting, was friendly, kind, and helpful. She sat us on bikes, and away we went.
Dim the lights...
...cue the music...
...I literally thought a movie was going to come on. (No really--aren't there spinning classes where you watch movies or am I making that up?) Work out in the dark?
Well thank the good Lord it was dark--I wouldn't want anyone to witness the faces I was making during intervals, sprints, jumps, or whatever the heck any of that stuff is called.
Halfway through, I looked at Greg and said, "This isn't for wussies. I'm a wussy."
I'll be honest...it was tough, but nothing I felt was going to make me die. I walked away with a thirst for more (and about a gallon of water), and an intense 60 minutes of solid cardio under my belt. Also under my belt: a rear end that doesn't hurt until I sit down. And then it's like I'm sitting on rocks and those pointy things at the top of wrought iron fences.
Aaaaand I can't wait to go back next week.
Spinning tip from yoga: if you know mula bandha and uddiana bandha, it is sooooooo helpful in the stand up riding. Grateful for that knowledge.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
2.23.11
Things that make me uncomfortable:
- When Tosh.O starts off with not one, but two vomit clips. I can't watch vomit period. Thanks for the inundation.
- Knowing that I haven't laid out a single page in the CMS yearbook. And it's due in a month.
- Imagining the pain that a girl in my class tonight suffered when a few years ago she had bunion surgery on both feet at the same freaking time, and now has metal rods in both feet.
- The stash of Reese's Cups in my desk drawer thanks to my friend on maternity leave. They call my name, and jump into my mouth, and I have no willpower.
- The obsessive talk about Justin Bieber among people my own age and older. Really? Really?
- Watching poker tournaments on TV. It makes me restless, and after 30 seconds I want to take forks to my eyeballs. The only thing worse is...boxing. Yeah I don't know how you can compare the two either.
- Will clinging to my leg and screaming, "Mama! Mama! Mama!" as I walk away from him to teach a yoga class. You try to uplift and inspire people after that!
- Talking to people when I know I have coffee breath. I'll do everything possible to not exhale my sentence onto them, cover my mouth, and back away slowly.
Ok. Let's end on a positive.
My French I kids turned in some kick a** projects earlier this week. Some teachers might be uncomfortable having their students create the rubric and requirements for a project, but these kids blew me away. They decided to build into the rubric an "epic factor." For 5 possible points, the project and presentation needed to wow the class.
I had kids talk about the Winter Carnaval in Quebec with an ice castle replica and painted winter sky backdrop, all while bundled up like Eskimos.
I had kids talk about maple syrup by serving everyone shaved ice and syrup, with facts on the spoons and each student read their fact.
I had kids build a model of a summer festival in Quebec.
I had a stage with the Black Eyed Peas made out of modeling clay, complete with flashing stage lights and music!
Totally epic. Totally comfortable doing this again with my kids.
(P.S. the project was over events, places, people, things in French-speaking Canada.)
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
2.22.11
I feel as though this is the week of bad news. People I know and love are being inundated with worry and sadness. I shall take all of your minds off the ick and yuck with the reason why going to Target makes me squirm these days.
My son, bless his heart, has a rapidly growing vocabulary.
The words, however, are a bit...unrefined...
We are at Target. He stands up in the cart. We say "Sit down please." And he repeats, at volumes far too loud, "Shit!" Heads whip around, and 20 eyes stare at us and wonder why our toddler just declared merde in Target.
We pass the cat food. Oh does he love kitties. It used to be he yelled "Tee!" (short for "kitty") but we've evolved into the delightful "Titties!" He yells it over and over again. "Titties! Titties! Titties!" Yes buddy, that's a...kitty. We've even taken to meowing so that people realize he's talking about cats and not boobs, but then it sounds like we're being naughty kittens in the bedroom and oy...it's all downhill from there.
He's so joyous in his yelling of words inappropriate for public places. I suppose it makes it slightly more bearable. But without a doubt, I am slightly embarassed.
It would have been cooler for me to take a video of him saying these words. Instead, I leave you with video of him throwing a little latin flavor into his dancing à la Spanish Buzz Light Year at the end of Toy Story 3. Forget the saying, "It's all in your hips!" Will teaches you it's all in your arms. Maybe even ears. Spanish flare.
Smile. :o)
My son, bless his heart, has a rapidly growing vocabulary.
The words, however, are a bit...unrefined...
We are at Target. He stands up in the cart. We say "Sit down please." And he repeats, at volumes far too loud, "Shit!" Heads whip around, and 20 eyes stare at us and wonder why our toddler just declared merde in Target.
We pass the cat food. Oh does he love kitties. It used to be he yelled "Tee!" (short for "kitty") but we've evolved into the delightful "Titties!" He yells it over and over again. "Titties! Titties! Titties!" Yes buddy, that's a...kitty. We've even taken to meowing so that people realize he's talking about cats and not boobs, but then it sounds like we're being naughty kittens in the bedroom and oy...it's all downhill from there.
He's so joyous in his yelling of words inappropriate for public places. I suppose it makes it slightly more bearable. But without a doubt, I am slightly embarassed.
It would have been cooler for me to take a video of him saying these words. Instead, I leave you with video of him throwing a little latin flavor into his dancing à la Spanish Buzz Light Year at the end of Toy Story 3. Forget the saying, "It's all in your hips!" Will teaches you it's all in your arms. Maybe even ears. Spanish flare.
Smile. :o)
Monday, February 21, 2011
2.21.11
So my initial post this evening was about how annoyed I was that we didn't have power.
I take electricity for granted. Too much.
I had to delete it after doing a just-won-the-Super-Bowl dance when the lights came back on.
Although it's important that you, dear blog reader, know how much of a whiny wuss I am when it comes to things like that, I had bigger fish to fry for tonight's post, and now I can do just that.
Tonight's post is an open letter (again). It applies to all, but my message is directed at one person in particular. I hope each of you sweet blog readers can take something away from it.
Dear Beautiful Friend,
Today you told me that your life was empty, void of things that filled you with joy, moments to make your heart swell, and experiences to brighten your world.
And with you, I cried. But my words of comfort can only go so far.
Divine intervention was needed!!
Miraculous things seem to happen to me at the yogahOMe Oakley studio; realizations come and emotions swell and beauty unfolds. Maybe the space is just that sacred. Maybe it's because I married a beautiful person there. Or maybe I just invite these moments in.
One of these moments happened this evening, Beautiful Friend, and I believe it happened for me to pass on to you.
My spiritual friend, Vijay, was waiting when I walked in. I haven't seen him in almost a year, and I pulled him in for a tight hug as he squeezed my cheeks and told me I need to eat more (and since this morning people thought I was pregnant (I'll just think it's because I was glowing) his urging me to fill myself with food was welcome).
He poured me a cup of this delicious chai tea he makes, and we started to talk, not about anything in particular really, but our conversation led him to this statement:
"People want to fill an empty cup with holy water and drink from it. They want good things in their lives, and luck and prosperity from the water. But you have a cup of tea there. You can't just pour the holy water into your tea. You have to empty it out first. Sometimes bad things need to happen before the good can come."
I don't believe I could say it better.
Beautiful Friend, empty your cup. It's begging to be filled again, and this time it will be with good. I promise, the Universe promises.
Love love love love love.
Kristin
A hot shower and warm pajamas are calling. :o) Sweet sweet dreams.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
2.20.11
I got to snuggle and love on this little one this morning.
Then I went home to this big one, who has announced loud and clear he doesn't do the high chair anymore. Apparently it is uncomfortable and does not suit such a big, grown-up boy.
Which means I need to get started on the next little one, pronto. :o)
I ended my day at the annual Kauffman gathering to celebrate Margie Kauffman's life. Margie would have been my mother-in-law. This year marks 10 years of her being gone.
I only met Margie twice.
The first time I took Greg to the Sadie Hawkins dance, and in her forest green living room, Greg put a lovely sunflower corsage on my wrist. On the transfer from dinner to the dance, she opened up the moon roof in her mini van for Greg and I "to look at the stars."
The second time, Greg and I went to go see Apollo 13. She went to another movie, and Greg and I were awkward 14-year-olds in the theater. He was consumed with being an astronaut, and I was consumed with whether or not he would hold my hand.
He didn't.
But I bought the soundtrack to the movie and dreamed of him doing so.
So we toasted her tonight, as we often do, at Bucca di Bepo. And although I am firmly comfortable among the Kauffmans, I do wonder what it would have been like with a mother-in-law. Would she have made me...squirm?
From what I've been told, she would hate that we have three dogs (she was a neat freak), but she would probably appreciate my attempt at her Christmas cookies every year. I would probably never dress Will in enough layers (she was a nurse), but she would love that I do yoga.
You know those baby monitors can transmit funny things...during one of Will's viruses, he was particularly fussy and having a hard time breathing, therefore sleeping. Greg and I were getting him Tylenol, rocking him, refilling his humidifier, and finally putting him back down. As we climbed back into bed, Greg said, "Did you hear that?" I didn't. "I was just thinking about how much I missed my mom, how she would know exactly what to do to make Will feel better, and I swear I just heard her voice say 'It's okay,' over the monitor." I smiled.
So Margie, I know there were some heavy hearts at the table tonight. I think it's safe to say your presence is still very much missed. But thank you for giving Greg a little bit of comfort. It's okay with me if you pop by every now and then. Just don't point out the dog fur in the corners.
Then I went home to this big one, who has announced loud and clear he doesn't do the high chair anymore. Apparently it is uncomfortable and does not suit such a big, grown-up boy.
Which means I need to get started on the next little one, pronto. :o)
I ended my day at the annual Kauffman gathering to celebrate Margie Kauffman's life. Margie would have been my mother-in-law. This year marks 10 years of her being gone.
I only met Margie twice.
The first time I took Greg to the Sadie Hawkins dance, and in her forest green living room, Greg put a lovely sunflower corsage on my wrist. On the transfer from dinner to the dance, she opened up the moon roof in her mini van for Greg and I "to look at the stars."
The second time, Greg and I went to go see Apollo 13. She went to another movie, and Greg and I were awkward 14-year-olds in the theater. He was consumed with being an astronaut, and I was consumed with whether or not he would hold my hand.
He didn't.
But I bought the soundtrack to the movie and dreamed of him doing so.
So we toasted her tonight, as we often do, at Bucca di Bepo. And although I am firmly comfortable among the Kauffmans, I do wonder what it would have been like with a mother-in-law. Would she have made me...squirm?
From what I've been told, she would hate that we have three dogs (she was a neat freak), but she would probably appreciate my attempt at her Christmas cookies every year. I would probably never dress Will in enough layers (she was a nurse), but she would love that I do yoga.
You know those baby monitors can transmit funny things...during one of Will's viruses, he was particularly fussy and having a hard time breathing, therefore sleeping. Greg and I were getting him Tylenol, rocking him, refilling his humidifier, and finally putting him back down. As we climbed back into bed, Greg said, "Did you hear that?" I didn't. "I was just thinking about how much I missed my mom, how she would know exactly what to do to make Will feel better, and I swear I just heard her voice say 'It's okay,' over the monitor." I smiled.
So Margie, I know there were some heavy hearts at the table tonight. I think it's safe to say your presence is still very much missed. But thank you for giving Greg a little bit of comfort. It's okay with me if you pop by every now and then. Just don't point out the dog fur in the corners.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
2.19.11
First post from my phone. Aaah technology!
Family party tonight to celebrate Olivia's 9th birthday. Girlfriend spent all last week at Disney World AND got a bike. That's some serious giftage. How will my parents top that for number 10? I wish them luck. :)
I adore family get-togethers. There is always wine, good food, and that safe, comfortable feeling that only comes from being among your own. I think that's why I like Thanksgiving so much. My family gives great hugs, cooks incredible food, and knows how to laugh. Comfort.
Hopefully the sun was shining in your corner of the world as brightly as it was here today. With that, I need to sign off and toast the birthday girl one last time. Love and cheers.
Friday, February 18, 2011
2.18.11
Happy Birthday Lucy. :o)
Tonight, in honor of her very first day in the world, I toasted her over a surprise date with my husband. (No really, I did; I ordered a Blue Moon, since she was born during a full moon, and I took the first sip in her honor!)
I got a sitter, and took Greg out. No bath time, no dishes, no Toy Story over and over again, no magnetic ABCs. Just us, dinner, The King's Speech, and lots and lots and lots of comfortable conversation.
After briefly skimming over the unimportant work details of the day, we discussed the latest books we are reading side by side at night (The Omnivore's Dilemma for me; an Anthony Bourdain memoir for him); we toasted our April trip to San Diego that was set in stone today; and cuddled (I know--sweet and lame) at the movies--no dogs, no little one, just us (I suppose bed bugs could have been with us).
Just a comfortable start to what will surely be a whirlwind weekend.
Once more...welcome to the world Lucy!
Tonight, in honor of her very first day in the world, I toasted her over a surprise date with my husband. (No really, I did; I ordered a Blue Moon, since she was born during a full moon, and I took the first sip in her honor!)
I got a sitter, and took Greg out. No bath time, no dishes, no Toy Story over and over again, no magnetic ABCs. Just us, dinner, The King's Speech, and lots and lots and lots of comfortable conversation.
After briefly skimming over the unimportant work details of the day, we discussed the latest books we are reading side by side at night (The Omnivore's Dilemma for me; an Anthony Bourdain memoir for him); we toasted our April trip to San Diego that was set in stone today; and cuddled (I know--sweet and lame) at the movies--no dogs, no little one, just us (I suppose bed bugs could have been with us).
Just a comfortable start to what will surely be a whirlwind weekend.
Once more...welcome to the world Lucy!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
2.17.11
Nine years ago today, almost exactly right now, at the age of 21, I put on a gift shop-bought "I'm A Big Sister" t-shirt, and with tears in my eyes sang "Blackbird" alongside my brother and aunts as I gazed at my new little sister, Olivia, through the nursery window.
A few months after she was born, I took on the roll as her full-time nanny. Our summer days consisted of naptimes spent sleeping on my numb arms (because if I moved her she'd wake up). We jogged in the jogging stroller sometimes three times a day. And we took soooooo many trips to Target, to pass the time, to buy nail polish, to buy little Olivia outfits that were just so cute with money I truly did not have.
Let's also not forget the looks of pity we'd get from people who thought I was an unwed teen mom (you think I look young now--I looked 15 back then!). Today I suppose I would be asked when MTV was coming to film me...
We were there when The Wiggles first came on the scene, singing their songs in the car (or me singing them to you), and Olivia and I helped plan the first Today show wedding.
I learned quickly how to change diapers, warm a bottle, dodge a spoon fling of peas, and how completely unprepared I was for a child of my own.
But today, Miss Olivia, as we celebrate your ninth birthday (nevermind how old this makes me feel), I owe my experiences with you to making me a better mom. I became comfortable with little ones because I got to experience so much of you as a wee one.
I would not trade your snuggles and cuddles and hugs and pigtails, your cries and hair-pulling and poopy diapers for anything in the world.
I love you sweet little sister. I can't wait to see you continue to grow (and maybe give me experience to make me comfortable enough to raise a teenager).
Especially sentimental, tomorrow, one of my most favorite people in the world is going to meet her daughter for the first time. Although Olivia is not my daughter, I know that my friend will experience the same joys with her daughter that I have had with Olivia...except she will have to do all that mom stuff that I never had to. :o)
Happy Birthday O.
xoxo
Keek
Olivia's 5th Birthday. If only I had a scanner to put one of her sweet baby photos here.
If only she still loved all things High School Musical and Disney Princess. :o)
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
2.16.11
Things I'm comfortable with:
- wearing flip-flops in the middle of February because it is 70 degrees.
- eating the same soup (Campbell's Tomato and Pasta) for dinner every Wednesday night for the last I don't even know how many months. Because it's easy.
- crying during all three Toy Story movies, even after watching them hundreds of times.
- admitting that I purchased and played in a yoga class a Mark Ballas song.
- singing Glee songs in my car at the top of my lungs and maybe even doing a few car seat dance moves.
- showering twice a day. Even if I don't break a sweat.
- acknowledging that I don't get the Justin Bieber phenomenon.
- knowing that fact makes me sound old.
Things I'm not comfortable with:
- watching basketball.
- knowing my son ended up with a cut, swollen eye at day care and my sitter not knowing how it happened.
- math.
- the outcome of the Ryan Widmer trial. Unfair.
The comforts outweigh the discomforts. Must have been a good day. Cheers!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
2.15.11
Tonight I got creative in the kitchen to prove a point to someone.
Taking my inspiration from a Vegetarian Times recipe, tonight's dinner was "Indiatalian" fusion cuisine. I have no idea if someone has already coined that phrase. I would like to buy all the rights and retire wealthy. The recipe is located at the end of the post.
And now, here's an open letter to the individual who inspired such creativity.
Dear Respectable Adult,
I know you weren't comfortable with your child doing yoga in my classroom. Never mind the fact that in 7 years, no parent has ever questioned my curriculum, or the fact that we stretch, balance, breathe, and relax and specifically state before we begin that yoga itself is NOT a religion.
No, never mind those things.
I am disappointed that you called yoga a "cult" practice.
I am more disappointed that you mocked my teachings without gathering all of your facts first.
I was initially angry. After feeling angry, I moved into the next phase: really freaking angry.
After kind and supportive words from dear friends and my superiors, I realized I can't do anything to teach parents. I can only teach kids.
What turned the day around for me, and what I will be forever grateful for in this experience, is the 11-year-old student who told me he meditates before bed to clear his head and help with his sleep walking and night terrors, and requested that I show him some additional yoga poses that would help him meditate better.
This student sat next to yours in my classroom.
Peace. No discord. Everyone chill, cool, calm, collective. No spells were cast, and no one went up in flames at a stake.
If we could only live like our kids.
So tonight I took our two worlds that you think are so vastly different, and I brought them together. A little bit of Americana in the pasta, cheese and Italian flavors, and then a couple dashes of some Far East spices (I think only used in cults), and I created this beautiful dish of nothing but love and harmony.
If only we could live like our spices and vegetables.
Life would be so much more delicious.
And comfortable.
Indiatalian Pasta Love
Taking my inspiration from a Vegetarian Times recipe, tonight's dinner was "Indiatalian" fusion cuisine. I have no idea if someone has already coined that phrase. I would like to buy all the rights and retire wealthy. The recipe is located at the end of the post.
And now, here's an open letter to the individual who inspired such creativity.
Dear Respectable Adult,
I know you weren't comfortable with your child doing yoga in my classroom. Never mind the fact that in 7 years, no parent has ever questioned my curriculum, or the fact that we stretch, balance, breathe, and relax and specifically state before we begin that yoga itself is NOT a religion.
No, never mind those things.
I am disappointed that you called yoga a "cult" practice.
I am more disappointed that you mocked my teachings without gathering all of your facts first.
I was initially angry. After feeling angry, I moved into the next phase: really freaking angry.
After kind and supportive words from dear friends and my superiors, I realized I can't do anything to teach parents. I can only teach kids.
What turned the day around for me, and what I will be forever grateful for in this experience, is the 11-year-old student who told me he meditates before bed to clear his head and help with his sleep walking and night terrors, and requested that I show him some additional yoga poses that would help him meditate better.
This student sat next to yours in my classroom.
Peace. No discord. Everyone chill, cool, calm, collective. No spells were cast, and no one went up in flames at a stake.
If we could only live like our kids.
So tonight I took our two worlds that you think are so vastly different, and I brought them together. A little bit of Americana in the pasta, cheese and Italian flavors, and then a couple dashes of some Far East spices (I think only used in cults), and I created this beautiful dish of nothing but love and harmony.
If only we could live like our spices and vegetables.
Life would be so much more delicious.
And comfortable.
Indiatalian Pasta Love
- Enough cooked pasta to feed as many people as you need.
- 1 head of broccoflower, chopped and cooked for about 6 minutes in boiling water.
- about 1 cup of chopped sun dried tomatoes (I get mine in oil and garlic)
- 5-6 leaves of chopped fresh basil
- salt
- cumin, curry, and coriander--easy on the cumin, heavy on the coriander, and the curry somewhere in the middle
- parmesan cheese
- olive oil
Once the broccoflower is drained, throw it back in the pan with a tablespoon or so of olive oil, and toss it to coat along with salt and the three spices. After a minute, add the tomatoes and basil. Cook a minute or so longer, and then toss with the pasta and another tablespoon or so of olive oil. Serve with just a pinch of parmesan cheese.
Monday, February 14, 2011
2.14.11
As the day has worn on, I have bounced from idea to idea about what today's blog post should contain.
My disdain for a Hallmark holiday?
There. Said it.
I love my husband, I love my son, and I love my friends and family. I would hope that the things I do and say on ordinary days convey how much I care, and I would also hope that money spent (or that I didn't spend) on cards, flowers, dinners and chocolates don't amplify (or detract from) that love.
Which leads me to what I settled on for tonight's blog post. :o)
How much do you love you?
How comfortable are you saying that you love _____ about yourself?
I'm not talking about egotistical love. I'm talking about comfort in your skin (and that phrase always reminds me of Jessica Simpson circa 2004ish and her song about chicken of the sea and being in love with Nick Lachey...here, this one).
How many times a day do you wish you had thinner _____? How many people do you look at and envy their _____? If you are at yoga, or the gym, how many times to you compare yourself to others?
Do you ever wish you had a different car? Job? House? Spouse? Life?
How much do you love you?
I arrived at the studio extra early today. I had some time to goof around and practice. I put on this amazing acoustic version of Marron 5's She Will Be Loved, and I sat on my mat. The most amazing thing was happening right then and there: the SUN was shining through the windows. Although it's February still, I didn't have to turn on the lights as soon as I walked in. I smiled wide and even laughed a little because I was so in love with that moment.
But it wasn't just the moment. I was in love with everything about me and my life in that moment.
I'm not being egotistical here. I am comfortable celebrating the fact that I am comfortable in my skin, that I have arrived at a time in my life where I compare myself to others less and less, that jealousy is beginning to fade. My contentment in each and every moment outweighs my judgments and malcontent.
My goal in telling you all of this is for you to sit right here in this moment and love it for what it is. Dear, sweet blog reader. The universe revels in you and adores you and wants you to be happy. Are you? Can you smile right now this second and just soak it all in, love everything about yourself, breathe in confidence and bask in the glow of self-love?
Love yourself. Right now. Even if it's just in this moment.
This moment begins something wonderful.
My disdain for a Hallmark holiday?
There. Said it.
I love my husband, I love my son, and I love my friends and family. I would hope that the things I do and say on ordinary days convey how much I care, and I would also hope that money spent (or that I didn't spend) on cards, flowers, dinners and chocolates don't amplify (or detract from) that love.
Which leads me to what I settled on for tonight's blog post. :o)
How much do you love you?
How comfortable are you saying that you love _____ about yourself?
I'm not talking about egotistical love. I'm talking about comfort in your skin (and that phrase always reminds me of Jessica Simpson circa 2004ish and her song about chicken of the sea and being in love with Nick Lachey...here, this one).
How many times a day do you wish you had thinner _____? How many people do you look at and envy their _____? If you are at yoga, or the gym, how many times to you compare yourself to others?
Do you ever wish you had a different car? Job? House? Spouse? Life?
How much do you love you?
I arrived at the studio extra early today. I had some time to goof around and practice. I put on this amazing acoustic version of Marron 5's She Will Be Loved, and I sat on my mat. The most amazing thing was happening right then and there: the SUN was shining through the windows. Although it's February still, I didn't have to turn on the lights as soon as I walked in. I smiled wide and even laughed a little because I was so in love with that moment.
But it wasn't just the moment. I was in love with everything about me and my life in that moment.
I'm not being egotistical here. I am comfortable celebrating the fact that I am comfortable in my skin, that I have arrived at a time in my life where I compare myself to others less and less, that jealousy is beginning to fade. My contentment in each and every moment outweighs my judgments and malcontent.
My goal in telling you all of this is for you to sit right here in this moment and love it for what it is. Dear, sweet blog reader. The universe revels in you and adores you and wants you to be happy. Are you? Can you smile right now this second and just soak it all in, love everything about yourself, breathe in confidence and bask in the glow of self-love?
Love yourself. Right now. Even if it's just in this moment.
This moment begins something wonderful.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
2.13.11
My dad and I just shared a bottle of wine, so let's hope there aren't too many typos in tonight's post. :o)
Hellooooooooo beautiful, sunny, above 50 degree weather!
Not only was today's long run comfortably warm (without earmuffs and mittens and extra layers), people started to emerge from their winter cocoons! There were so many people out walking and running and riding bikes. I think I even saw a little skip in everyone's step, including mine!
I saw my neighbors for the first time in 4 months. Will and I hopped on one of their go-carts for a spin in the sunshine (can't help but keep January's fun intention going). :o)
Even better: last time we saw our neighbor across the street she had been given 6 months to live (cancer). Turns out her chemo treatments worked beyond what her doctors originally thought and she has essentially been given years to live.
Comfortably warm and pleasant sunshine: please bring your warmth and good energy back to us for awhile. Your splendor is addicting. :o)
Hellooooooooo beautiful, sunny, above 50 degree weather!
Not only was today's long run comfortably warm (without earmuffs and mittens and extra layers), people started to emerge from their winter cocoons! There were so many people out walking and running and riding bikes. I think I even saw a little skip in everyone's step, including mine!
I saw my neighbors for the first time in 4 months. Will and I hopped on one of their go-carts for a spin in the sunshine (can't help but keep January's fun intention going). :o)
Even better: last time we saw our neighbor across the street she had been given 6 months to live (cancer). Turns out her chemo treatments worked beyond what her doctors originally thought and she has essentially been given years to live.
Comfortably warm and pleasant sunshine: please bring your warmth and good energy back to us for awhile. Your splendor is addicting. :o)
Saturday, February 12, 2011
2.12.11
This uncomfortable blog post became apparent at 9:00 this morning.
When Greg and I adopted our first lab, Cooper, 7 years ago, I initially wanted to give him back.
The amount of dog hair on the floors...on the furniture...in every nook and cranny of our tiny townhouse made me insanely uncomfortable.
Yes, that was the only reason.
Three dogs later...I guess you could say I've accepted the dog hair factor.
Only now, I also have what is essentially an 18 month old puppy. Who talks.
Will makes ENORMOUS messes. For fun. And it's not the kind of mess I've become all that comfortable with yet.
Before we had kids, there was a paper towel commercial where the kid spills an entire gallon of milk on the kitchen floor, and the mom laughs and says, "That's OK! Let me get the Bounty!" and I looked at Greg and said, "That will be me! It's just a mess! Messes are cleanable!"
He swore he'd remind me of this fact, and he has.
Especially yesterday. When Will discovered he could turn his sippy cup upside down and sprinkle milk, as though the hardwood floors needed watering.
And then this morning at breakfast, when feeding himself applesauce was really just a "How much can I dump out and then put on the papertowel or my shirt" game.
Here's the bright side (always a bright side): This kid LOVES to Swiffer. That's a cleaning skill (that also picks up dog hair) I can be comfortable with.
When Greg and I adopted our first lab, Cooper, 7 years ago, I initially wanted to give him back.
The amount of dog hair on the floors...on the furniture...in every nook and cranny of our tiny townhouse made me insanely uncomfortable.
Yes, that was the only reason.
Three dogs later...I guess you could say I've accepted the dog hair factor.
Only now, I also have what is essentially an 18 month old puppy. Who talks.
Will makes ENORMOUS messes. For fun. And it's not the kind of mess I've become all that comfortable with yet.
Before we had kids, there was a paper towel commercial where the kid spills an entire gallon of milk on the kitchen floor, and the mom laughs and says, "That's OK! Let me get the Bounty!" and I looked at Greg and said, "That will be me! It's just a mess! Messes are cleanable!"
He swore he'd remind me of this fact, and he has.
Especially yesterday. When Will discovered he could turn his sippy cup upside down and sprinkle milk, as though the hardwood floors needed watering.
And then this morning at breakfast, when feeding himself applesauce was really just a "How much can I dump out and then put on the papertowel or my shirt" game.
Here's the bright side (always a bright side): This kid LOVES to Swiffer. That's a cleaning skill (that also picks up dog hair) I can be comfortable with.
Friday, February 11, 2011
2.11.11
Happy Weekend!
Cheers to a comfortable 50 degrees on Sunday!
And now, there are more margaritas to drink! :o)
Cheers to a comfortable 50 degrees on Sunday!
And now, there are more margaritas to drink! :o)
Thursday, February 10, 2011
2.10.11
Sometimes the best comfort is your mom.
I got to talk to her tonight--not on Skype and not while following Will around the house with the laptop so they can see him--and it was just so nice to...well, talk!
A few months ago, Tulip (our youngest dog) dragged my most favorite Anthropologie dress into her crate and ate it. The dress is the epitome of comfort: pockets, a cut that is forgiving on bloated days, and a neutral navy color that goes well with everything. I even wore it for our rehearsal dinner! Conveniently, she ate half the collar in a nice clean rip, but then she also chewed enormous holes in the skirt of the dress.
After months--literally--of emailing a fabric seller on etsy (hbfabrics--go--you won't be disappointed!), receiving sample after sample in the mail, I finally picked a fabric that I thought could be used to sort of patch up the dress.
Anyway, my mom, an incredible seamstress (who made my prom dress one year), worked her magic and the dress arrived today, looking shiny and sparkly and just as comfortable as before. I'm so excited for spring to break it out and wear it again! And now that I have it in person, this photo doesn't do the work my mom did justice--it's phenomenal!
Many thank yous and hugs and love across the country to my wonderful, talented mom.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
2.9.11
Here was tonight's yoga message.
I got a panicked text from a dear friend this afternoon. She is a stressed out mom who works long hours and was feeling--in a nutshell--overwhelmed.
She asked for inspiration and words of wisdom.
My response to her (after I told her to immediately schedule a mani/pedi for her next day off) was simple: Breathe.
You are only as calm as your breath. There's nothing fancy about breathing to calm yourself down. Simply give yourself a 30 second time out, close your eyes, and deepen your breath.
Sometimes we need more than 30 seconds. Like a minute. I know, minutes are often hard to spare. But when we find ourselves especially tense, our breath is shallow, our shoulders come up near our ears, and everything in us locks up. I can't think of a more uncomfortable physical state.
Start with a cleansing breath. In through the nose, big sigh through the mouth. Then do another one. And another one still.
Relax your shoulders. Drop them down your back.
Now for the next (insert how much time you have here), follow this simple mantra.
"I breathe in _________. I breathe out _________."
Insert in the first blank what you need: peace. calm. love. patience. happiness. warmth. Fill yourself with it as you inhale.
Insert in the second blank what you need to get out: stress. fear. anxiety. darkness. panic. Let it go as you exhale.
Within one minute of breathing with intention, my mind instantly feels clearer, my heart rate has settled, and my blood pressure has lowered.
Your breath is the fastest vehicle to calming yourself down, to returning to a place of comfort.
Just. Breathe.
Like music? Check out these songs in regards to the breath.
I got a panicked text from a dear friend this afternoon. She is a stressed out mom who works long hours and was feeling--in a nutshell--overwhelmed.
She asked for inspiration and words of wisdom.
My response to her (after I told her to immediately schedule a mani/pedi for her next day off) was simple: Breathe.
You are only as calm as your breath. There's nothing fancy about breathing to calm yourself down. Simply give yourself a 30 second time out, close your eyes, and deepen your breath.
Sometimes we need more than 30 seconds. Like a minute. I know, minutes are often hard to spare. But when we find ourselves especially tense, our breath is shallow, our shoulders come up near our ears, and everything in us locks up. I can't think of a more uncomfortable physical state.
Start with a cleansing breath. In through the nose, big sigh through the mouth. Then do another one. And another one still.
Relax your shoulders. Drop them down your back.
Now for the next (insert how much time you have here), follow this simple mantra.
"I breathe in _________. I breathe out _________."
Insert in the first blank what you need: peace. calm. love. patience. happiness. warmth. Fill yourself with it as you inhale.
Insert in the second blank what you need to get out: stress. fear. anxiety. darkness. panic. Let it go as you exhale.
Within one minute of breathing with intention, my mind instantly feels clearer, my heart rate has settled, and my blood pressure has lowered.
Your breath is the fastest vehicle to calming yourself down, to returning to a place of comfort.
Just. Breathe.
Like music? Check out these songs in regards to the breath.
- Keep Breathing, Ingrid Michaelson
- Breathe Me, Sia
- The Sea, Urban Nature
- Just Breathe, Pearl Jam
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
2.8.11
Many of us--myself included--find change a bit...uncomfortable.
We get used to the status quo. We like things cushy, familiar, normal.
Lately I've found myself delving back into a few old "comfortable" trains of thought that really don't serve me any positive purpose. They are thoughts I've battled and won against numerous times, but it leaves me wondering: why do I keep going back?
Because it's comfortable.
I'm re-posting this from the DailyOM website (phenomenal daily emails; sign up for them here).
Your current comfort zone did, at one time, serve a purpose in your life. But it is representative of behaviors and patterns of thought that empowered you to cope with challenges of days past. Now, this comfort zone does little to facilitate the growth you wish to achieve in the present. Leaving your comfort zone behind through personal expansion of any kind can prepare you to take the larger leaps of faith that will, in time, help you refine your purpose. Work your way outward at your own pace, and try not to let your discomfort interfere with your resolve. With the passage of each well-earned triumph, you will have grown and your comfort zone will have expanded to accommodate this evolution.
So, I will say that each time I revisit this comfortable (albeit negative) way of thinking, I grow a bit more. It takes less time to conquer. And I go back less frequently. One of these days, the comfort that this place offers me will be uncomfortable. And that, for me, is the ultimate goal.
I remember in a yoga class several years ago, my teacher said, "Whatever it is, let it go. Let it drip off of you. Shed it. Leave it on your mat. You don't need it." It was such a powerful moment for me--so powerful that it is essentially the theme of every yoga class I teach--the idea of letting go of negativity and junk and the weight I was letting bog me down. It's so easy to just keep it all a part of you. Isn't it easier to stay the same than it is to change? :o) Ah but change is good. The only thing constant in this crazy, crazy world is change.
Let yourself outgrow those comfortable places that don't serve you anymore. I'll join you. :o) It's all part of the journey.
We get used to the status quo. We like things cushy, familiar, normal.
Lately I've found myself delving back into a few old "comfortable" trains of thought that really don't serve me any positive purpose. They are thoughts I've battled and won against numerous times, but it leaves me wondering: why do I keep going back?
Because it's comfortable.
I'm re-posting this from the DailyOM website (phenomenal daily emails; sign up for them here).
Your current comfort zone did, at one time, serve a purpose in your life. But it is representative of behaviors and patterns of thought that empowered you to cope with challenges of days past. Now, this comfort zone does little to facilitate the growth you wish to achieve in the present. Leaving your comfort zone behind through personal expansion of any kind can prepare you to take the larger leaps of faith that will, in time, help you refine your purpose. Work your way outward at your own pace, and try not to let your discomfort interfere with your resolve. With the passage of each well-earned triumph, you will have grown and your comfort zone will have expanded to accommodate this evolution.
So, I will say that each time I revisit this comfortable (albeit negative) way of thinking, I grow a bit more. It takes less time to conquer. And I go back less frequently. One of these days, the comfort that this place offers me will be uncomfortable. And that, for me, is the ultimate goal.
I remember in a yoga class several years ago, my teacher said, "Whatever it is, let it go. Let it drip off of you. Shed it. Leave it on your mat. You don't need it." It was such a powerful moment for me--so powerful that it is essentially the theme of every yoga class I teach--the idea of letting go of negativity and junk and the weight I was letting bog me down. It's so easy to just keep it all a part of you. Isn't it easier to stay the same than it is to change? :o) Ah but change is good. The only thing constant in this crazy, crazy world is change.
Let yourself outgrow those comfortable places that don't serve you anymore. I'll join you. :o) It's all part of the journey.
Monday, February 7, 2011
2.7.11
These arrived today.
Comfortable? Not too bad. Now how to work them into my work wardrobe and not look silly, therefore making me uncomfortable...to be determined.
These pants also arrived today. In hot pink.
Comfortable? Insanely. They are my favorite hot yoga pant (the pink brings my total to 3 pairs). They are light, airy, and dry very quickly.
And while we're on the comfortable clothing items, I am obsessed with pajamas from Target. Once a month, I purchase new shorts and shirts to wear to bed. Greg is aware of the problem (just like he's all too aware of my shoe problem), but seems okay with it. I mean, it's Tar-jay...cheap and practical! And in this case, amazingly comfortable!
So, time to put on this and this (relax, totally not sexy) and crawl into bed. Good night.
Comfortable? Not too bad. Now how to work them into my work wardrobe and not look silly, therefore making me uncomfortable...to be determined.
These pants also arrived today. In hot pink.
Comfortable? Insanely. They are my favorite hot yoga pant (the pink brings my total to 3 pairs). They are light, airy, and dry very quickly.
And while we're on the comfortable clothing items, I am obsessed with pajamas from Target. Once a month, I purchase new shorts and shirts to wear to bed. Greg is aware of the problem (just like he's all too aware of my shoe problem), but seems okay with it. I mean, it's Tar-jay...cheap and practical! And in this case, amazingly comfortable!
So, time to put on this and this (relax, totally not sexy) and crawl into bed. Good night.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
2.6.11
Musings on the Super Bowl from the comfort of my own couch.
1. The Packers just scored. Again. If they win this, they will be my heroes. I apologize Steelers fans. Something about your low blow take out of Carson in the playoffs in 2005 that subsequently made him suck ever since makes me hate you. As a yogi, I should not hate. And yet, I do. It's still early. WorthlessHotdog might stop throwing interceptions in the next three quarters.
2. The Wheat Thin cracker is merely the vehicle to getting the artichoke dip into my mouth. It may as well be a spoon. Perhaps I'll make the switch soon.
3. If HGTV comes to do our makeover and does nothing more than leave a bucket of Bud Light on my bathroom sink, I will be slightly disappointed. At least choose a beer that costs more than a dollar and doesn't take like a frat party.
4. Speaking of beer, I haven't had any since summer. Wine seems to be my cold weather beverage of choice. However, in honor of The Big Game, I purchased my favorite: Tap Room amber ale. Try it. You'll like it.
5. Artichoke dip now completely gone. Jeans would need to be unbuttoned. If I weren't wearing jeggings. Oh yeah. Jeggings.
6. Every time a penalty is called against Pittsburgh, Greg says in a strange and gleeful high pitched voice, "cheeeeeeaterrrrrrs." It makes me laugh.
7. Also making me laugh: there's a random guy on the sideline. His helmet is off. I ask who it is. Without missing a beat, Greg knows. So much stuff in that man's brain.
8. Random fact I just learned from the man with useless football information: a player's jersey number indicates his position.
9. Let's talk about Christina. No one will ever top Whitney Houston's version of Super Bowl Star Spangled Banner amazingness. Faith Hill came close. Christina, despite her word flub, I thought did an a-ok job. Her make up was not very flattering, and there was a rumor in college that so-and-so who knows so-and-so went to high school with her and said she smells like hot dogs, but...I thought she did just fine.
10. Now let's talk about Michael Douglas' little spot to introduce the game. It gave me goose bumps. Greg says, "He sounds terrible!" I reply, "The man had throat cancer!" Greg reads Sports Illustrated. I read People. The patriotism surrounding this Super Bowl seems extra heightened. Perhaps it's in light of the democracy we so fiercely protect and promote, the "Go Egyptians!" we can't help but cheer a bit this week. And then, too, perhaps it's the events in Arizona from last month, the fact that a representative of our democracy was attacked and survived. Whatever it is, the Super Bowl spurred a patriotic revival, in me, and perhaps in a lot of other Americans this evening as well. I read a lot online this week about how this Super Bowl would be amazing, not because of the teams, but because of the cities that the teams represent: blue-collar, hard-working America. And in this economy, Go Team America.
11. The second quarter has commenced. It's almost Will's bedtime, and therefore probably mine (I am, after all, on beer number 2). Glee is set to DVR, and all fingers and toes are still crossed that Green Bay momentum does not shift to...well...you know. Tonight, I root for the Cheese.
1. The Packers just scored. Again. If they win this, they will be my heroes. I apologize Steelers fans. Something about your low blow take out of Carson in the playoffs in 2005 that subsequently made him suck ever since makes me hate you. As a yogi, I should not hate. And yet, I do. It's still early. WorthlessHotdog might stop throwing interceptions in the next three quarters.
2. The Wheat Thin cracker is merely the vehicle to getting the artichoke dip into my mouth. It may as well be a spoon. Perhaps I'll make the switch soon.
3. If HGTV comes to do our makeover and does nothing more than leave a bucket of Bud Light on my bathroom sink, I will be slightly disappointed. At least choose a beer that costs more than a dollar and doesn't take like a frat party.
4. Speaking of beer, I haven't had any since summer. Wine seems to be my cold weather beverage of choice. However, in honor of The Big Game, I purchased my favorite: Tap Room amber ale. Try it. You'll like it.
5. Artichoke dip now completely gone. Jeans would need to be unbuttoned. If I weren't wearing jeggings. Oh yeah. Jeggings.
6. Every time a penalty is called against Pittsburgh, Greg says in a strange and gleeful high pitched voice, "cheeeeeeaterrrrrrs." It makes me laugh.
7. Also making me laugh: there's a random guy on the sideline. His helmet is off. I ask who it is. Without missing a beat, Greg knows. So much stuff in that man's brain.
8. Random fact I just learned from the man with useless football information: a player's jersey number indicates his position.
9. Let's talk about Christina. No one will ever top Whitney Houston's version of Super Bowl Star Spangled Banner amazingness. Faith Hill came close. Christina, despite her word flub, I thought did an a-ok job. Her make up was not very flattering, and there was a rumor in college that so-and-so who knows so-and-so went to high school with her and said she smells like hot dogs, but...I thought she did just fine.
10. Now let's talk about Michael Douglas' little spot to introduce the game. It gave me goose bumps. Greg says, "He sounds terrible!" I reply, "The man had throat cancer!" Greg reads Sports Illustrated. I read People. The patriotism surrounding this Super Bowl seems extra heightened. Perhaps it's in light of the democracy we so fiercely protect and promote, the "Go Egyptians!" we can't help but cheer a bit this week. And then, too, perhaps it's the events in Arizona from last month, the fact that a representative of our democracy was attacked and survived. Whatever it is, the Super Bowl spurred a patriotic revival, in me, and perhaps in a lot of other Americans this evening as well. I read a lot online this week about how this Super Bowl would be amazing, not because of the teams, but because of the cities that the teams represent: blue-collar, hard-working America. And in this economy, Go Team America.
11. The second quarter has commenced. It's almost Will's bedtime, and therefore probably mine (I am, after all, on beer number 2). Glee is set to DVR, and all fingers and toes are still crossed that Green Bay momentum does not shift to...well...you know. Tonight, I root for the Cheese.
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