Hello... It's Me!

No, I didn't get Adele tickets today. Please read this in a British accent, and spin around 3 times in a dark room in an attempt to Bloody Mary-magic conjure tickets to my possession. I'll need six. Thanks!

But despite my depression over this, I'm taking a deep breath for the first time in weeksmonthsdaysayear.

This YEAR.
What the? Where did it go? She gone.

I just want to take a moment to rejoice in how many things I'm so grateful to celebrate this year. A lot of shit happened and I'll say that it's been a real trip.

The beginning of this year started with a birthday party that left my heart so full that I didn't think there'd ever be a time I would ever be so happy again. So much laughter and Lady Marmalade karaoke has led me to believe that, with a little prosecco, I can actually be Christina Aguilera. It might be true, it might not.

I was wrong. My time in St. Paul  is one of the most cherished times in my life. I took so many chances, ate so many things with so many friends, talked my heart out with my 'teers and went ham (Mmm, ham...) on soaking up what that glorious city has to offer that it kind of seems unfair that I had such a good time, even if it was short. That might have been just what made it so sweet though. We knew it couldn't last and so, we lived. Fully, thoroughly, lived.

Thennnnn we moved to NoDak and okay, let's be honest, I hated it. Where is this place? They have legitimate tumbleweeds and I just don't know what to do about that. Do you plant them? I STILL DON'T KNOW.

It's an unsolved mystery I'm pretty sure. Well anyway, here I was. Separated from all my people with the exception of man-friend, I made a lot of big moves: decided to go back to school? Signed up for a Half? Quit my first big girl job? Took a real vacation? Whoa.

On paper [screen] it seems pretty epic. Um, cause it was. Have you ever quit a job? It's allllll the emotions and even though I was glad to go, this was the real beginning of a new chapter. I crossed a threshold with this and while I toast to that beast finally resting, the biggest, best part of my summer and fall was celebrating all the new Mr's and Mrs's in my life.

One officiation, four states, seven planes, nine weddings, hundreds of tears, thousands of miles and countless memories of our friends and family celebrating their love make this a year that is really going to be tough to beat.

I finished my half and cried all the dehydrated tears I could, limped for five days, and dug into school. Fast forward through building a website for a boutique, writing a few articles and listening to a lot of podcasts of miscellaneous diseases and here I am looking at my final grades from my first semester back at school (Hands raised emoji x3).

How the...when did... wha--? Just like that. That's how a year goes. That's how it went for me. All the things, right? I'm happy it happened and am so sad it's over with. I'm pumped I get to sleep in non-hotel sheets, and my closet isn't a suitcase. I don't have a test or homework for at least 2 weeks and if you're a forever student you'll appreciate that little bit of respite.

It's early, because Christmas hasn't happened yet, but I  I might just unplug a little while longer and just enjoy the rest of what this year Auld Lange Syne style has to offer because it's been a real nice ride so far.

2015, you've been a gem, I can't wait to see what you sister 2016 has to offer. Heart emoji. Champagne Emoji. Hashtag YAY. Flamenco Girl Emoji. Wine Emoji. Wine Emoji. Wine Emoji. Wine Emoji.

Back at it.

I haven't blogged for a long time because life has in the most sincere way, been hectic (let me cringe with you). My last post eluded to being committed to various projects but I wasn't clear on exactly what I've been ladling onto my plate. Part of that is my nervousness about following through and part of it is anxiety about it actually happening.

I'm back at school.

I woke up on the same morning that I decided to run my half marathon and realized that my grown up fantasy of who I should or could be, wasn't lining up with the moves I was taking to get there. I love reading, and writing and traveling and eating, because I'm a human and all those things are lovely in the right context. But the reality of living out Samantha Brown's lifestyle while being close to my family, friends and starting a family of my own some day (still waiting on that puppy) was that I wouldn't be happy.

I can't stretch myself in every direction because for me that just didn't carry the balanced life I want to live some day. I'll still write, because it's a fun hobby, but it can't be my one and only and neither could working full-time in marketing. If you've spoken with me about any ailment of yours or someone else's ever, you would know that I'm nosey (I call it curious) beyond what seems polite.

Oh your what hurts? Can I see it? No? Hm. Okay. Are you sure? Well, keep me updated on how it's holding up.

When I joined the military I chose a medical field-- not outright mind you--but I came back from training with every intention of becoming a nurse. I admire doctors, nurses and treasure my first time watching an amputation and open heart surgery (not at the same time). In NOLA, I was a kid in a candy store learning about old medical treatments and I listen to podcasts on medicine for fun.

You see where this is going, right?

I'm going back to school for medicine, and classes start today. I'm finally working toward answering one of my favorite questions of "What's your dream job?". I admire so many of my girlfriends because they answer it with, "This is my dream job." and I think, wouldn't it be nice if I would have pursued mine? Maybe in another lifetime, I would have eaten my way through the continents with a camera in tow but I don't see any reason why I can't eat through the continents and then write about it anyway, ya know, in between surgeries.

Here's the summary:

• Who: Me, (obviously) but this list looks dumb starting at 'What'.
• What: Going back to school for medicine: Undergrad Pre-requesites right now, applying to grad school in a year or two (no specific timeline because I don't know how classes are going to go yet, so I'm giving myself time and forcing patience.)
• Ultimate goal: Physician Assistant 
• When: Now because there's no time like the present and all that jazz.
• But actually what else am I doing in Bismarck? Why not make this time away valuable? 
• Where: I'm no longer exclusively a Bulldog! (The heartbreak is real) I'm now also a "*Mystic". *What that actually means I have no idea, but if I ever figure it out, I'll let you know.
• Why: Re-read this post if you still don't get it.
• How: Online-- I couldn't jump into taking classes on campus all over again. Being a poor college student full-time and working isn't in the cards for me right now. I want to do it all right now. Eventually I may have to abdicate the working world to focus on my pre-reqs but there's more to come on that front-- this post is already a mile long.

So, today is my first day of school and I'm really giddy.
Thank you to everyone who encouraged and supported me while I was considering taking these steps and when they didn't let my self-doubt get the best of me. On that note, I should probably go read my syllabi...

Oofta.

Oofta.

So goes the saying when one is facing a large and precarious situation, and here I say it with my eyes looking at the light at the end of the tunnel... kind of.

With summer almost gone and that back to school feeling creeping in, I'm starting to get a little anxious. I don't know what summer of my youth it was that traumatized me, but ever since I can remember, I recall being absolutely devastated over summer ending come mid-August. And so here it is... the middle of the month and my everything is a disaster: my room, my notes, my hair and I can feel the anxiety building.

Oh hey there epic meltdown and river of overdramatic tears! It's been a while since I've seen you, but I think you are due to compound my stress.

I do it to myself. And for the most part I like it, but I've actually reached the point where I've decided to take on less. the only problem is, I don't know what to give up! I'm addicted to my stressors and they're killing me softly.

*Pause blog to jam to the Fugees*

Turns out, I'm a stress-eater (Oreos) and with that everything else goes out the window when I can't cope-- mostly logic and any semblance of a calm demeanor.

Anyway, last week I didn't have my laptop and I had significantly less emails to send, pieces of work to do and websites to surf. So does that mean this is the root of my problem or that I was just avoiding my responsibilities? Probably both. This week I'm on a #hustle mission to get all of the things on my to-do list done with specific emphasis on laundry and organizing my work space. I am hoping desperately that this will help otherwise I really will have to give in to crossing off one of my recurring tasks permanently-- maybe a Russian Roulette of my commitments is the way to go?

How do you decide which commitments to let go? What do you do when you're overwhelmed with life? What's your breaking point?ow do you decide which commitments to let go?

A Pig Eats in NOLA (pt.2)

Like I said, our trip was mostly aimed at warmth and eating. So while it was blissfully warm out, it also happened to be incredibly humid. (Which despite my skin and makeup looking phenomenal for the first time since Hawaii, my hair ended up being a legitimate knot.) Whatever though. I like to think I rocked some sort of Blake Lively messy side-braid and most of my pictures don't have closeups so it looks cool from far away. #lifehack

The food was fantastic. We ate at some chains but this will be the first time in ages I withheld judgement. Good food is good food and the fresh seafood was impossible to beat. When you live in the Midwest, you are naturally suspicious of all seafood and seafood bearing restaurants. Fresh? Just flown in? What, do you FedEx it overnight with my Amazon order? Everyday??? Is that why this meal costs exactly my rent and cell phone bill combined? 

In any case, read on if you're on a diet or not hungry and are a masochist.

Oysters. Oysters are everywhere. If you're a texture person, I beg you to make your first time trying Oysters somewhere off of a coast. They are velvety, smooth (not chewy) and just a little bit briney. Not much, but just barely enough to make you want one more to try and catch that drop of the ocean to savor one more time.

Oh, so you like garlic and butter and some spicy seasoning that I can't quite identify as cajun or creole, breadcrumbs, parmesan, and epic amounts of sodium? Why, yes, I do, too. Charbroiled oysters are where it's at. This was our first meal in NOLA and it set us up for an addiction to the shelled delights that I can't quite shake. 

We were under the impression and unfortunate assumption that Crawfish/Seafood Boils would be a big thing in Louisiana,  so we fruitlessly searched and asked around to no avail. We did, however, find a fun tourist spot to sit down and engage in the delicate act of eating crawfish. 

By delicate, I mean not at all, because you man-handle this crustacean accepting that you will, in fact, end up with shells in your hair and lemon juice in your eye. It's not a sexy meal to watch someone eat but the reward is sweet, indeed. 

I'd only ever had crawfish in buffets before but those will never compare. They literally pale in comparison to these delights and although I wither at the whole animal concept when it's presented to me to take into hand (literally) if I want to eat, these were the tasty morsels to convince me that it is oh, SO worth it.

A favorite food of mine has made a monster out of me. Fried chicken. I don't know what it is, but I have a serious affection for good and thoughtful fried chicken. I recently tried that chain stuff and was legitimately sick for a day after eating it. Manfriend and I have put it on our 'banned list' unless we're having a biscuit and honey packet shortage that we just can't overcome.

Anyway, Fiorella's on the edge of the Quarter is a little den of heaven. Seafood, although delicious can feel insubstantial and sometimes you just want to be full.  This fried chicken, although different in texture and flavor was crispy and all the right kinds of juicy.  The breading was just heavy enough where it wouldn't peel away from the meat leaving you with the fake battle we all wage of "Should I eat the best part of this fried chicken or pretend like I'm in it for the meat...?", where you inevitably lose and make some excuse about hungry children in Africa or whatever.

A shining star that I can't get over is the Red Beans and Rice-- the side that came without flourish to our chicken. What the what? How have I been missing this important line of Sir Mix-a-lot's greatest hit and the South's staple? Nobody told me it would be this good. I mean, there's bacon in it. Or some kind of bacony bit. I don't even need to know but I will dream of this meal for years to come and I will make many attempts on red beans and rice in the interim.

Mint Juleps When in the south, you should be required to drink Mint Juleps. In New Orleans in particular, people are partial to the Sazerac. It's not my cup of tea but it's bold if you like sweet citrus flavors with hints of Absinthe. I personally loved the Gin Fizz I had at the Roosevelt Hotel. The bartender was absolutely artistic in how he made this cocktail and it was worth the hype. Whoever invented that little diddy back in the 30's gets my personal thanks and a high-five.

The local beer was good although I can't say I had much of it. Beer gets me full and full means less room for food. So, there's that.



Merchant
Our hotel was next to this adorable restaurant, Merchant. Aside from everyone inside being insanely friendly, the food was phenomenal. Originally we went in just to get grub and go but chatting with the staff, and who I think was the owner of tags and our epic search of a seafood boil left us laughing and too entertained to leave. Off the beaten path, this place is adorable and won't smell like tourist (i.e. me). Sure to become a staple for the city, based on staff alone but don't worry the crepes (arugula, proscuitto and balsamic) are a definite given to winning you over.

We had crepes at Cafe du Monde and Cafe Beignet, and I won't write about them because the lines speak for themselves. Just go. Go often. Bring something to do while you wait, because there's always a line, but do not mistake this for a tourism trap-- it's loyalty and worthiness leaking out of glorious tiny balls of dough. So just go.

The capstone to our trip was our grand finale dinner. We sought far and wide for a seafood boil and despite not having experienced one first-hand, this made up for it.

Turtle Soup
Yes. It's exactly what it sounds like and I haven't been able to look at the turtle emoji since. Why I feel so much guilt, I don't know because I probably eat foods that people's Grandma's used to keep as pets, too. But with some encouragement, I pressed past my memories to dive in. The stew is a dark and brooding mixture-- undercurrents of heat swam in each bite but not enough to actually burn you-- just enough to keep you waiting for the bite so you continue to eat until you realize that the low and fleeting warmth it all you'll get. The texture of the turtle was similar to a small, cooked oyster. This particular version at Tableau wasn't so well done that I'd write home about it, but for the sake of trying it, I did, and I didn't hate it. If someone tells me there is a place with the most amazing turtle soup in the world, I will go and try it again with my head held high and full of expectation.

Frissee
What is more French than Beignets and Frissee? Not much, and I was most certainly elated to try this dish. The sun was setting and I was buzzed from my French 75, so upon finishing my bout with guilt and turtle soup, I devoured this salad. With all intents to order an entree, I was stuffed and pleased that I had to force myself to order dessert. Don't be fooled by the playful greens-- the potatoes are substantial and covered in a clarified butter that counteracts the vinaigrette, and you won't have enough time to breathe between bites leaving you full and content.

We had some butterscotch pudding to finish and there was no time for photos. You'll just have to go down to New Orleans and check out these spots yourself. But not alone. Because I'll go with you.

My heart goes out to you New Orleans for opening up a world of flavor and a dimension of eating I'll never forget!

xoxo

Relax, it's Summertime!

There are a lot of songs going through my head that ring up under summer cliche but somehow none of them seem to capture the joy that summer can evoke.

The southern half of our country can probably start rolling their eyes now, but nothing is so sweet in the Midwest (or "North" if you're of the new school) as the warm scent of grass and evaporating rain climbing through your open windows.

It's overwhelming to try and do everything-- the picnics, the parties, the relaxing -- it all takes time, commitment to being organized and frankly can be straight up stressful. And although I wouldn't trade being exhausted by the endless on-the-go that summer brings, fall is often a welcome respite.

But instead of wishing away one of my favorite seasons, I'm going to try and squeeze in a few extra hours into my days specifically for myself so that the next few months don't seem so daunting.

• Aside from trying to train for the half, I want to read more books. I'm considering converting back to paper but audio books are perfect for road trips (of which I have many) and they have been a great treat during my runs (don't worry Queen Bey still makes her usual appearance during the jaunt).

• I want to start cleaning out my closet (again). The purge feels so refreshing and kind of freeing to get rid of pieces that don't fit you 'just so'.

• Of course, I want to be great about my training for the race. And I think this will be a great way to learn some discipline for the sake of learning.

• I want to start building up my barcart. As a former bartender, it seems foolish not to treat yourself to one great drink at home every once in a while. Obviously wine is amazing but there's something special about whipping up a drink and sipping it in your pajama pants. Does that count as a life hack?

• I want to go on a road trip to find the perfect Midwest seafood. After #KChohandJCoDoNO my heart still aches for the brine of a fresh oyster or the sharp kick of creole seasonings. I won't settle for the fact that fresh is the only version of best-- not with all the amazing chefs and restaurants popping up in the city like hotcakes (see what I did there?).

I just made up that last one but I think it's important to have goals that aren't too serious. It gives the others perspective and you something to look forward to. No love lost if I don't find the perfectly tasty seafood treat between ND and WI but I can at least enjoy the thrill of the hunt. (Think: California Dark Beer Tour 2009).

Side note: I'm thinking of taking my food adventures on the road and investing in a camera to capture all their glory. What do you think?

What will you do to keep sane in these seemingly crazy summers?

Moved by the Stars ... to Run?

It isn't very often I get time to stargaze. I have a lot of trouble grasping the vastness that encompasses our solar system and the galaxies beyond when I'm not looking toward the heavens for the answers they might provide. But in most of the big decisions of my life that come in the form of an epiphany I have noted that they are always made under watch of the moon and the Milky Way.

If you've followed my Insta or read my last post, you know I've been traveling for love and leisure alike as of late. Wedding season is upon us and it has made me consider life quite a bit lately. Perhaps it's the repetition of telling people what you're doing with your life that makes you wish you had something cooler to say, or the inevitable groan that follows when people ask you, "When are you getting married?".

Never-the-less, I finally have a moment to gain some perspective on life and last night, while searching for Orion's Belt with man friend, something in me shifted and I made a decision (or two).

I have wanted to be a "runner" for a while. I have run casually in the past and even done a race or two with friends for fun. I thought that maybe the high would last long enough to propel me to my next race and I could begin a stead habit of running for sport and leisure. I've been slacking wholeheartedly in the exercise category also, so it felt inevitable that I would have to make a choice sooner than later. (My metabolism has contentedly decided to catch up to my age and take it's sweet toll on my body-- something I had hoped would happen a few years down the line yet.)

Alas, now that the dust has settled for a little while and with the peace of a relaxing Sunday with nowhere to be, a clear head can prosper. Which apparently means using the inspiration from your friends to sign up for a half marathon.

Um, what? So much for staying relaxed, dust settling, and that kind of whatnot.

I figured I should stop wishing I could and making excuses for why I shouldn't (middle school sprained ankle anyone?). Turning this introspection into action seems like a big leap, and although I'm terrified that I'll get injured, die or embarrass myself in some other way on this run, I've got just over 4 months to become the "runner" I always wanted to be.

Any advice out there? (Excluding my little brother who happens to run marathons for funsies and ran college track-- stop showing off already, jeesh!)

Maybe my next epiphany will be more leisure oriented like Ice Cream Fridays or Siesta Sundays.

Look forward to more scribblings on this likely painful but exciting experience--inside and out.

Monster Dash Half Marathon, I'm comin' for ya!

XO

A Pig in NOLA (pt.1)

Read this with a southern accent if you can. It's better that way.

Tourisme 

I'm finally just coming off of my post-vacation high, and accepting that it's over. That real-world-blues that follows shortly after pretending like you aren't a tourist while blatantly doing touristy things is heavy on the heart and almost makes you wonder why you went.

Almost.

I went to #NOLA ya'll! For those of you not in the know, that's Nahlens to you. And boy was it a trip. 

Let me start by saying I never vacation. Like truly vacation. I bought multiple Dr. Scholl's products while on this trip so let that paint the picture for you of how into this I got. I travel quite a bit, but it's almost always based on work which means I always have an agenda--some other motivation that makes me go somewhere for the benefit of getting something done. Last time I checked, vacations are for exactly the opposite. 

And so it was.

After an extremely impulsive afternoon, I found myself with tickets to the Big Easy. And because I never actually take vacations, I didn't actually believe it would happen. With any other sort of good news, I sing it like I'm a Disney villain with a great melody. But this time I was so nervous something would go wrong, that I just sat back and ignored it until the day before I had to start plane hopping. At this point I was more concerned with my 3oz containers that I didn't take the time to research or make any plans.

This is so incredibly unlike me, but so is vacationing so I just rolled with it. Kathy, my partner in crime, and I had only two things in mind: getting to where it was warm hot and stuffing our little brown faces with seafood like the gluttons we aimed to be.

We luckily have similar interests in history, architecture and food so once we hit the city we were thoroughly giddy to just be in a new place, no schedule required. When does that ever happen? When do you ever get to just completely be somewhere and know you are fully present? My mind was genuinely blown away and I will say that overstimulated is an understatement.


New Orleans in itself is fabulous. It's a city that doesn't pretend or give any pretenses about who she is (I think it's a she?). She's flamboyant and romantic and everyone we met was more than happy to tell you how much fun you'd have in this Southeast Sin City.

Bourbon Street is everything you expect it to be at night: full of temptation with beer and daiquiris spilling into the cobblestone streets. In a city filled with this much neon, you feel like you're in a Girls Gone Wild audition on the Vegas strip. It's a bit racy for my Saturn Return-blood but it's hilarious if you accept it for what it is. Or if you imagine a petticoat version of it (I had Louisiana Purchase on the mind a lot).

Of course, in a place hundreds of miles away from your friends and family, you would expect that you run into someone you know and Kathy and I did just that. I think that's the kind of magic Bourbon Street harbors; it's quirky enough where you are not really that shocked and aside from my maxi dress doubling as a bar rag on the post-downpour streets, I'd say I would have enjoyed people watching into the wee hours of the morning. (Note: The bars don't close in New Orleans with the exception of one hour every year. One. Hour.)

We actually stumbled onto Bourbon by accident. We arrived early and needed to kill time before check-in and found ourselves wandering 75% of the French Quarter before dinner time. My fitness tracker told me we walked roughly a half marathon. On the first day. Genius, right?

Giving my feet a break and trying to look discreet about it.

Wrong. Insert the inserts. In a desperate attempt to save my feet, I tried multiple Dr. Scholl's inserts and only met demi-success with one set. I only tell you this because it was a significant part of my morning so if you go to NOLA, wear comfortable sandals (Not closed shoes because: Your feet + humidity for 12 hours = just throw those shoes away.)

Preservation Hall. I love Louis Armstrong so it's an honor to be in a city that adores him and keeps his spirit alive through his brassy tool. Everywhere you went there was music trickling in from not too far or next to you if you're lucky. See my favorite tuba here. So when presented with going to a jazz concert I imagined some variation on our Middle School Jazz Pops concert right before the whole band came on stage-- some organized situation with chairs and tiered seating but I couldn't have been more wrong. Preservation hall is the size of my college dorm room with the closets removed. It's dark and all exposed wood with a few benches meant for you to snipe for relief on your toes should you have been lucky enough to wait the hour in line to get up front. As soon as the music began, however, I was sent back into time.

Louie, Ella and the whole gang were going to show up in a bit to play me some jazz in our parlour room. Suddenly I was wary of police coming in to bust us for violating noise restrictions but we were going to bring down the house in the meantime. 

The beauty of the south is nobody is in a rush and it worked so well because neither were we. The majority of our time was spent "lollygagging" as my grandma would call it. Along the way we stopped for some museum tours and accidentally stumbled on a National Mint museum. My favorite, of course, was the Pharmaceutical Museum. We walked past it and it caught my eye when it was closed, which only heightened my giddiness when it was open for $5 tours the next day. The curator was phenomenal and presented a plethora of information on 19th century medicine that makes you question current medicine considering the outrageous treatments society used to think helped them but in fact killed them (think Belladonna and gold cased pills).

The tourism part--if you embrace it-- is very entertaining in a place like New Orleans. People love to tell you about the city, it's history, it's nooks and crannies and I loved hearing about it. It led to some amazing historical sites and of course fabulous places to eat. In fact, they're especially adamant about the food. It was glorious. Oh, what did we eat? Well funny story...

Lessons I learned from NOLA

I learned more than just a few things when I went on vacation this week. Of course, these lessons learned the hard way will undoubtedly set the scene and cultivate laughter

1. Manicures matter. If you’re a nail freak like I am, get a gel manicure and get serious about it. It’s genuinely disturbing to see chipped polish in an otherwise perfect photo and you will have less grumbles over it later.

2. Walking shoes. I think Birkenstocks were made for walking, right? I have ruined a pair of sandals because in the city of--Nah’Ahlans, as it’s pronounced unsarcastically--will ruin your cute accessory sandals. I am sure there’s another brand out there but if they’re ugly you’ll also be miserable so make a compromise and invest.

a. The alternative to this is buying multiple Dr. Scholl’s products only to ifnd they are less than functional in sandals and don’t bear well in the rain. Mhmm. INVEST!!!

3. Be patient. Travel itself took forever and my trip home took an entire 20 hours of a day pending layovers and gaps between flight schedules (in my defense I did stop in 4 states and fly two different airlines). But that kind of endurance is not natural so figure out a way to deal with it. We saw so many flight delays due to maintenance and weather that it is bound to happen to you. The odds are stacked—we were just lucky this time. (Also nobody wants to go to Minnesota so we’re lone-wolves in that route).

4. Be even more patient. We had a day of epic failures. The service industry is a weekend biz, which means Mondays (sometimes Sundays) and Tuesdays are mommy’s night out. Call ahead because with cellphones, the internet and a little voice to voice, you can save yourself miles and miles of walking heartache as you search for a Ginger Mint Julep to no avail based on these Service Industry Saturdays.

5. Plan. Figure out what you want to do or at the very least-- don't want to do on your trip. My co-pilot and I had the sole intention of eating anything and everything when we got to the Big Easy, and that is exactly what we did. We had a list of recommendations that fell through based on the fact that we were only walking the city, not wanting to miss a moment of a too-quick taxi.

No Draft, Just Writing

Holy busy Spring!

What's the latest update on the Xo front?

WELL...

This is what I look like when I travel/
send lame texts to my friends during the work day. 

This little piggy went to the Minnesota market and ran around town like it ain't no thang. Translation: I went to yoga a lot, raided Trader Joe's (Sorry Nat) and had a girl's night where we stayed up past our bedtimes and did yoga moves in the living room.

I started a new side-gig working in Social Media with a company I met out of Chicago. Learning a new role has been a really interesting process. It's been a long time since I've been the "new guy" at anything and it's weird feeling like I'm blindfolded running a maze. You get so used to knowing everything-- where to go, what to do, who to ask-- that it's stressful to not just understand. That's a confidence I think we take for granted no matter how much we gripe and whine about the daily challenges we meet in our jobs.

Overall, it's a great experience-- Social Media, Writing, Public Relations, Travel & Food. I want to keep my toes dipped into all of these ponds and right now I've got a decent handle on a few of them, so it makes each week interesting to say the least. Don't worry, I won't tip over... yet.

It makes me miss learning, though. Part of that could come from the fact that I ran into one of my favorite college professors at the Twins game, and part of it can come from the End of School season that is upon us. It's like Back to School only you feel like you really have no excuse not to kick your life into gear because you've got "less" on your plate. I feel my molecules starting to move a little faster in anticipation of our 16-year habit that we haven't quite kicked.

I don't plan on watching TRL or hanging out in Park Point all summer so instead I plan to really hone in on the projects I've got going before I take on my next one in the fall. It's taking everything in me to not do it all at once. Literally, as I sit here with tabs open on my future project, I just want to tell myself "Go"/write about it on here so I have a reason to start on it now, but I'm still really working on being fair to myself about how I allot my time and energy.

Does anyone else feel like their permanent student is leaking out this spring?

Like you're squirrely but know that if you take on anything else, you might implode? But then part of you wants to? No? Yes??

The Dress

It's Monday, and I know you're already thinking about the weekend, so let me just tell you what you should be doing this Saturday...

I have seven, (7), sieben, sept, yes-- siete-- weddings this year (a personal record!)

A custom made dress from Linyage. Mind. Blown.

I am not married myself and so the whole process is a general mystery to me. The tidbits I get from my girlfriends are useful and I make notes for the "someday" that is the date I put a boulder on my finger.

However, in the meantime, I still don't retain the general knowledge the comes with wedding planning. Where did everyone get their to-do list? Does it come with the ring like when you have a baby and your doctor tells you all the general things you should know about birthing? Is there a pamphlet I threw away as junk mail???

In all of the joy that surrounds weddings, one thing fascinates me more than most-- the dress.

I have a Pinterest board like every other basic bitch about wedding things, but dresses encompass the bulk of it because they are so astonishing. How is it, that we don't wear them on the reg-reg? mmm.. cost/practicality/value in rarity aside, it's safe to say I think they're truly something to be treasured.

Until recently, this was all hypothetical because, as I've said, I'm not married and as a child of divorce, I always feared I'd have a Carrie Bradshaw meltdown if I ever tried one on, scarring me for life. But when the ladies of Linyage asked me to model some of their pieces for them I could not have been more honored.

I didn't know what to expect other than those big clips that make the dress look like it fits when you try on something that you haven't been measured for.

Wrong.

Having met the Lindsay, the co-founder and designer of Linyage, in-person only a handful of times before, and subconsciously refusing to send my measurements (because I've been off the wagon), I was astounded that I stepped into a dress that fit perfectly. Why don't all of my clothes fit like this???

I will admit, I was feeling hideous and bloaty that day, having come directly from drill and carrying the water weight that eating out/being on the road for 5 days does not allow most to feel their most glamorous. But despite all my best efforts to feel self-conscious, (and the help of the one-woman glam-squad, Flannery) I felt quite unabashedly, beautiful.

Was it the vintage lace? Was it the hand-sewn stitching or the delicate pearls that had me all kinds of smitten? I don't know. But I liked it. All of it.

I will get married some day, in a court house if I'm lucky, with my puppy (yes, the one I don't have yet) acting as my ring bearer, and maybe, just maybe, if I'm super spoiled, I'll be wearing a Linyage dress that makes me feel as beautiful as I did on that unlikely Sunday.

Linyage is having an official launch party this Saturday, May 2nd, and come hell or high water, I'll be there. I hope you come join in celebrating these local entrepreneurs, bundle up a bouquet and generally bask in their energy-- who knows maybe you'll even work with them on a dress someday (one can only hope!)

Info is here-- check it out & I hope to see you there!

xoxo

Earth Day Guilt

Hawaii. I mean seriously. This is our world. Stop being so gorgeous.

When I was in High School, I had this hideous yellow t-shirt that I used to wear only on Earth Day. It said something like, "Save the Trees" or something equally statement-y but it was the only tradition I kept despite my peers mocking my "hippie" ways.

I went to college in Duluth where there is a loud voice for activism and because hindsight is 20/20, I know I could have been a bigger participant in standing up for things I believed in. Instead, I went to parties, took a lot of naps and whined about finals, giving little thought to other things that mattered to me or the grand scheme of the universe.

Earth Day comes each year and I have a pang of guilt for all the days I opted for Netflix instead of going out and volunteering or planting trees. I get really bummed out that part of me didn't embrace the "hippie" persona and do it any justice for that era of my life. I chose to otherwise fawn over Abercrombie and Victoria's Secret like all the other boring girls of my generation. *Hey! What's going' on?*-- A&F Tagline du jour.

Today I think about where I was and shake my head with a silly grin because this kind of self-deprication is unfair to myself. I am who I am. I did what I did, and nothing is truer than true. Just kidding. I won't get all Dr. Seuss-y but the reality is I can't change the past.

If I had my way, I would win the lottery and I would want to dedicate a lot of my energy to a charity like celebrities do. I would push for a clean water initiative, plant a lot of trees, try to slow deforestation and try to support sustainable farming. But since I'm not a millionaire, those plans will have to wait. Those are both past and future thoughts, right now, I will do what I can with what I've got:

• I donate to a foundation that plants a tree in your name every year. It's not a lot, but it's something. 
• I try to discourage my friends from burning plastic, saving the Ozone layer from another battle against the disposable water bottle.
• I utilize re-usable bags whenever possible, and always carry my items from the store instead of taking a bag (That's why I have a big purse, and if I carried it to the register, why can't I also carry it from?).
• I DIY when it makes sense, and buy when it uses more materials (including gas for traveling from store-to-store to gather materials) to DIY than it would just to purchase. Eventually I'll buy the expensive T-shirts that use recycled materials, but for now that isn't in my budget and going broke with an up-cycled v-neck benefits nobody.

Earth Day shouldn't be a battle between you and your conscience, it's a friendly reminder to do what you can, with what you've got. 

Happy Earth Day, friends!

Sunshine

If you're wondering: I survived my workout class without incident. In fact, it was notably uneventful-- including the workout. wah-wahh. 

I'm not one of those people who naturally gets jazzed to workout. I need to be inspired and motivated and so I'll continue to hunt for the class that gets me on the wagon. I'm testing out another tonight so I'll let you know how it goes.

Last Thursday felt like Friday. It was 70+ degrees and I actually got some color while basking on our little balcony. I am brown, but there are variations and I'm currently in my freckle-stage. This means I'm light enough where you can see the contributions of my father's mixed European heritage triumphing over my Filipino roots-- this is rare but then again, it's still only spring in the Midwest.

Anyway, I set up a little blanket, grabbed a water and laid out. In my sports bra and on my felt blanket, it wasn't exactly optimal but I didn't care that I was sweating into the thick layers, I was literally basking in the light of life. What is it about sunshine that gets us out of bed and improves our mood? I think it has to be more than chemical.

That was a Thursday, so come Friday and Saturday the grey skies were a far-cry from uplifting. Instead of staying indoors and avoiding the outside, manfriend and I decided to go golfing. This is an anomaly because I'm strictly a fair-weather-outdoors person and it was a little cold without the UV shining extra bright.

We finished our round and I was amazed: 1) I played some of the best golf I've ever played. 2) I was actually in a decent mood despite the doom and gloom of the howling winds and neutral skies. I think it sounds obvious to say that we have to work harder on rainy/unfortunate weather days, but I think I'm going to make a serious effort to do get those endorphins pumping anyway or it could be a very long spring.

Aside from rainy day Netflix marathons and cat-naps, how do you spend your cloudy days?

On the Wagon

Image via

I see a lot of posts about doing something that scares you at least once a day. For me this usually means eating an egg with a runny yolk (Hey--You never know when bird flu will strike!). But today’s challenge is going to a new fitness studio.

I've been sulking about for a few weeks now, eating my emotions and promptly packing on the pounds that go with each bite. I'm at the age where working out isn't just a vanity thing, but a real necessity so that your health doesn't suffer.

I've been getting more sleep because of the latest 30 Day Challenge, but without the counterbalance of exercise, I've been sluggish and kind of in a fog. So I've been desperate to "get back on the wagon" as I call it, but I have let 3 weeks slip past me without once lacing up my sneakers. (I just wanted to say sneakers. Do I sound like a grandma yet?)

My yoga mat has been eyeballing me from the backseat of my car so eventually I just took it out. I don't need that heavy rubber judgement every time I go to get groceries! But internal paranoia aside, I want to get back to my mat. 

I miss peeling off sweat-soaked clothes, or staying in them and freezing and having to do my 3rd outfit change of the day while contemplating a shower at 9pm at night. Just kidding. Nobody loves those things, but I do miss the euphoria that comes after a workout. The sense of accomplishment that I fought-- and won-- the battle du jour.

I also look forward to the minute that I can tell the little voice in my head that chirps, "You should go workout today..." like a regular heartbeat to STFU. So while I dust of my trusty Lulu pants and play Missy Elliot on repeat to get myself pumped up, I suggest that you stop reading this and go do it too. 

Just kidding, don't stop reading. But if you're in the mood for some motivation, I can have my friend Natalie provide you a pep talk or, you could just watch this awesome Nike video that seriously does get me jazzed. 

Happy Hump Day friends!

Exhale

I have been holding my breath for a few days now.

Kind of waiting to wake up from this weird state of surreal that seems to not be leaving anytime soon.

Let me just say a few things:

1.  I am, unfortunately, a valley girl. I am not proud of this, but manfriend has forced this concept down my throat; I do hate being cold, and enjoy a good latte. Shun me if you dare. With that said, metropolitan life suits me quite well. And although North Dakota is not the hub of all things modern in our fair country, Bismarck in particular does have a lot to offer by way of commerce and full scale suburban life.
2. I don't personally have anything against North Dakota, or Bismarck-proper. So if you are from here, or a place similar to here, I am not hatin'. In fact, I relish the opportunity to be separated from my familiar because it's good for the soul. What I do dislike, is being away from co-ops and hyper-local restaurants and JCrew. I will miss those things, and I am allowed to miss them, so just let me whine about it.
3. I am far away from home again. Not 'home' as in my "mother's bosom". Home as in, when I need a good wine-cry, I can walk across the hall or sweat it out at my favorite oh-so-familiar yoga studio or circumnavigate traffic with my eyes closed (Do not try driving with your eyes closed!). 

But keeping those three things in mind, the answer to the question of how I'm doing out here, is "fine". Not in the "I'm-actually-mad-at-you-so-you-need-to-keep-asking-until-I-tell-you-what's-up, fine." I mean the actual sense of the word in it's true form:

I'm downloading and processing a new place. I could have moved across the river to Minneapolis and I'd still be doing the same thing--only with more coffee and dinner date distractions in between. I like  love my apartment because SO MANY CLOSETS! (When you live in 50+ year old homes for 8 years, you do not take those for granted.) Moving itself is exhausting physically but I think it spends us mentally for all of the adjustments you have to make from your comfort zone.

But I'm starting to take hold of this new normal and embrace it for what it is- a real-life adventure. Not something out of the movies that's romanticized, but a daily story that will one day be a time period encapsulated as "The Bismarck Years".

The days are flying by, which seems weird to say but I haven't looked at the clock mid-supper before 8:30pm because there's a lot of stuff to get distracted with-- easy things like putting away more pans, and googling curtains or office chairs.

It's Wednesday, so it feels good to finally exhale. I'm not holding my breath for any surprises or some sort of elaborate Punk'd episode to unravel, but I'm here and this is my now.

On a related note, if anyone has any good butchers or places to buy good bacon, I'm desperately seeking a good thick-cut. #lowmaintenance #notsorry

Tally-ho!

I cried in yoga tonight.

It was a sculpt class and I was on my back sweating to hold a bridge pose, counting backward from 25 and my sweat gained the companionship of some welcome tears.

I've been intermittently saying goodbye to things here in St. Paul; friends, restaurants, familiar streets that know a special part of me in this chapter of my life. It has been difficult to say the least.

What exacerbates the stress, is my anxiousness to leave. I am giddy. My apartment is going to be awesome. I get to spend more time with my man-friend-- a luxury previously unimaginable, even recently as my friend Natalie will tell you that he's a figment of my imagination because he travels so much.

I will be home more. I am out, all the time, being the most hedonistic version of myself I've ever been as an adult. I've spent equal amounts in petrol and on food making friends, and attending events because I want to soak up every last drop of this glorious, wonderful state.

I learned my lesson when I moved from Duluth, that you will, more than anything, miss the little things. Coffee from your favorite spot, your favorite grocery store (because a good one is hard to find!), the way your street can be perfectly peaceful and make you feel so safe, so homey...or the way the sunlight hits the kitchen on an otherwise average day, making it delightfully noteworthy.

Those little things I've photographed in my mind (and on my phone) because although each day in itself is different, this "now" is something I knew would be exceptional from the very start. I have been spoiled and yes, blessed (even though I cringe at writing the word) these last months.

So when I was in class, going to my last Yoga Sculpt class for however long it takes me to get back to here, I cried.

25, 24... I can't believe I'm moving... 23, 22, Why is my spine so boney right now?? 21, 20.. ah to be young again, I wouldn't go back to being 21 if you paid me... 19, 18... I'm hungover just thinking about it; I was so naive, what did I know of the world? 17, 16... not enough to know I was clueless... 15, 14... I would have never guessed this would be my (and our [manfriend's]) path, but why not? 13, 12... seriously longest series ever... 

I've had a lot of people ask me if I'm excited, and I never thought I'd say this, but I am. Truly, and genuinely for this next stage. I sweat-cried my tears today and I hope they'll be the last (mostly because I hate goodbyes and want to escape like a thief in the night). But I think this next journey will be extremely nourishing to manfriend and I, as we pioneer the Great Plains, challenging creatively and just the right setting to ease into the bones of my late twenties.

It's going to be a fun ride. Bismarck, I'm comin' for ya.

Work-a-holic

I've had this kind of crazy recurring dream that I've been living in an action movie. Probably because the last few months of my life have been a hilarious montage of too much wine and a lot of brunch dates with my gal pals with a healthy --erm-- decent-- dose of sculpt classes in between. But as we all know, every movie has the roller-coaster of emotions that comes from too much bliss-- (sorry it's the Capricorn in me).

You know when you're going fast on a bike (or accidentally hydroplane) and you hit a big puddle and slow-motion slow-down--as in every other molecule in your body is still going super fast but your tires and sweet purple mountain bike decide they're going to take a chill pill underneath you? 

Well my involuntary slow-down was when my girlfriends asked me how many jobs I actually have. 

Kind of comical-- for most people the answer is like: 1 "real" job (a typical 9-5) and maybe 1 side job for shoe money or something leisurely. But I some how answered the question with not one, not two, but six. Yes. Six.

What in the...?

I know right???

*What comes after hitting the puddle is the inevitable reality of motion and the laws of gravity reminding you what's up ala pavement.*

I kind of panicked. Counting each role out loud made me think of all the commitments I'd made-- like I'd planned my senior semester all over again but just doubled my load for no reason whatsoever. Remember that chaos? Registering for EVERYTHING so you got in and then only showing up on day 1 to see if you hated the syllabus, the teacher or had a friend you could stick it out with? No? Just me? Oh okay. 

WHY DO I WORK SO MUCH??? Am I a workaholic? I met with this total babe from a PR agency last week and I was embarrassed when telling her about myself because I sound like I can't commit to anything since I commit to everything. 

I frequently tell my friend Sarah to slow down-- just because you can do everything doesn't mean you have to. I think the momentum of moving + the new year + my Saturn return had me juggling so many knives, that once I stopped to think about what I was actually doing, I realized how dangerous it is to myself to juggle knives (literally --but in this case figuratively because what psychopath juggles knives?)

Something about turning 27 has really set me on a path of serious self-love. I don't think I would have given myself a break before because of 'youth' and 'the grind' and 'hustling'-- all words I'm so over right now [serious valley girl tone there] because at the end of the day, even if your resume has a bazillion things on it, you're still juggling knives. 

I decided to make moves toward cutting back on my commitments in favor of committing more wholeheartedly to the ones that will help enrich my spirit, not just my resume. 

Besides managing your workaholic-ism, how do you practice self-love?

Bye bye, Chi.

I write this for no other reason than the catharsis it provides me. Maybe there's a lesson in it, but mostly I just need to put it into words.

When I graduated, I wanted to move to Chicago. That was my main objective outside of not starving. Man-friend and I had agreed we'd take it in stride pending what opportunities would arise, but I had committed my heart and my mind, to moving away.

Over the last year I've been lucky enough to squeeze every last bit of free time into visiting the city. Manfriend was covering a territory that caused him to spend an excess of time there, and so I took full advantage of embracing his travels. Some of our closest friends from college moved there a few years before, and were kind enough to show us the non-touristy neighborhoods to hit up, leading my heart to only long for the Windy City as my home even more.

It seemed glamorous; the trains, the skyscrapers, the people-- oh the people! They're literally everywhere. It's unfathomable to me that there are so many humans in such a small space. Where could they all possibly be going? But when you are discovering a new city, those are the kinds of things you find endearing and wholly part of the energy.

I cried a lot of tears and drank more coffee than was sustainable for any one human during my battle to escape Minnesota, but could not, and would not, win the fight.When it became apparent that I'd have to choose between forcing my dreams and gracefully meeting the realities of life, grace trumped brute force and I stayed.

This week, I had to travel to Chicago to get some training done for a new role I've taken on. I was all-consumed with preparing for my training and not until I arrived at the airport, and walked an oh-so-familiar path to my flight gate, did I realize that I'd be reunited with my former love. 

It was like seeing an ex for the first time after an ugly/against your wishes break-up, but you actually look really, really good. I hopped on the L and rode the blue line like a pro because unlike the last time I encountered my ex, this time around I was much better off. Not as emotional or desperate to please, I was finally "okay" that we had parted ways.

With every stop of the train, I felt a familiar longing that I only recognize with this specific ex. Chicago knew a little part of me that I wouldn't show to anyone else, and could never hide from her again. That piece of me, belonged to her. 

I finished with my meeting earlier than I anticipated and was left for the first time, alone in the heart of the city, to do whatever I pleased. I walked a bit, but due to the relentless wind and insufferable cold (combined with a stylish/not practical outfit) I promptly entered a restaurant.

Alone I sat by the window, Instagram-med my food, and sipped a glass of wine, contemplating without pressure if this was the life I had missed out on. I recalled my memories-- good (tourist-ing, new friends, great pizza) and bad (alll the wind always, smelly streets, drunk men on trains) and decided that I was longer the woman that had her whirlwind romance with Chi. 

I had done it once before with Manfriend, but I never expected I'd need to say "Goodbye" to Chicago on my own. I still wonder if it's a recurring theme that so many poignant moments in my life are experienced as an individual living a moment of absolute lucidity. I don't know. That's contemplation for another day, for now I'll just say, "Goodbye, Chicago, it was lovely to love you".

Moons & Moods

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

I am partially grouchy because my neck is sore from my workout last night so I couldn't get comfortable, and partially grouchy because of reasons I can't explain.

If you're wondering, it is not my lovely cycle come-a callin'. That has come and gone so I won't attribute my morning betchyness to that. No, I am quite certain it has nearly everything to do with the moon.

Most mornings I wake up and have a very clear vision of what I want and how I will execute my day. Lists of to-dos form in my head and as I begin to organize what order these tasks will play out, I start to ease into the day. I make note of the weather, fill my water bottle and set off into the world.

This fine day, I woke up pissed. I did not have a bad dream, I was just upset. Not teary-wah-wah woe-is-me upset, but like I want to get out of traffic because I'll be late again to my hair appointment pissed.

But I knew why: today, is a full moon.

For those of you who don't put any stock into astronomy and the tides, I beg you to remember that we are 60% water and so for the moon to not affect you, is foolish. I also don't think it's a coincidence folklore positions witches and werewolves to be out and about during full moons. Just sayin'.

In history, this traditionally plays out poorly. I attribute my foul mood to something insignificant: man-friend being insensitive, slow internet, crappy food-- anything that serves as a plausible catalyst to why I'm such a raging bitch for no given reason.

But today I decided, instead of being a bull, I'd utilize this fire-laden focus to motivate me. I have found lately that I'm doing more negotiating (contractors, cars, Father Time) than usual. For some reason I instantly thought of Lean In and wondered if this kind of razor sharp energy is what Sheryl Sandberg channels on the reg-reg.

If you're experiencing a full moon meltdown as I did this morning, I hope you wrangle that energy and make it work for you. Pick something today, and make it your red caped-target du jour.

Or don't, and just be a bull, it's up to you.

A Cleanse

I did a cleanse last week because I wanted to lose weight.

Just kidding. But that's what everyone thinks when you say you're "Cleansing". It's got this awful connotation because there are radicals out there that insist on defaming the core concept behind cleansing-- which is hitting a restart button on mind/body/spirit-- whichever applies to the cleanse you're doing.

I don't tell people very often that I am a self-proclaimed recovering shopping addict. It seems like a pretty regular thing for a young woman to do--shop, that is-- but I felt like I had taken it to the next level. I don't have any other vices-- smoking or gambling are lucky enough to evade me. And not for lack of experience. 

Once in college my bestie and I watched a movie, thought smoking looked decidedly cool (it was a 50's movie) and we wanted to know what the hype was about. So we bought a pack, took a drive, and tried to experience what so many of our culture cannot escape-- the appeal of cigarettes. We ended up laughing more than smoking because this is of course, a ridiculous experiment but despite our very blatant exposure, neither of us retained an addiction. 

Anyway, when I participated in a 30 Day Challenge that asked me to actively not shop and share the experience with the world-- not just my conscience-- I found that breaking up is oh so hard to do. 

But break up I did. I was moody and cranky and it forced me to face how much I actually used a new shirt or any other material object to cope with long days or bad moods, and it turns out that it was a lot. So as a recovering addict, I fully support the concept of cleansing because that's what I did-- I cleansed myself of the reckless thoughts and actions that have plagued me for so long. My spirit, and my bank account, have duly thanked me.

This time around, I decided to try a juice cleanse because, why not? Who am I to judge if I've never actually done one? So I did and I tell ya what... turns out I was kind of addicted to food, too.

Don't think that I casually use the word "addict" because I'm not claiming to be "meth-level" addict, but there's a part of me that wouldn't let up.

Don't you just want a steak, Jess? Don't you miss chewing, Jess? Mmmm... buffalo sauce...

In those three days I was hyper aware of how much food played into my life. I know that my dream job is to be a traveling food writer ala Andrew Zimmern and Samantha Brown, so I already care more than the average bear, but this was different. There was one point where I had walked down the hall from my desk and upon returning to it, walked directly to the office kitchen. And I wasn't even hungry. Or thirsty. I just did it on autopilot because that's what I usually did at that time of day.

If you think I was just missing the act of chewing, you're right. I did. And this cleanse asks people to not stress themselves out over not eating by encouraging them to have something healthy to eat if the spirit moves them. So I made guacamole and ate it with crunchy flax seed chips. And so my crunch-crave was fulfilled.

The cleanse itself was fun. (No, seriously.) It was a personal challenge and there were moments of weakness but it was a real test against myself. Manfriend supported me along the way (i.e. When I wanted wings at 11pm) but all in all I really enjoyed it. The juices were delicious and so fulfilling that I ended up with a few extra turning my 3-day into nearly a 4 day had I not opted for Korean wings in lieu of my ginger juice. I noted any changes in my body and found that I was not a victim or torture or any grand restriction as some people expect to be. More important I realized how what you put into your body really matters. I indulged all weekend and sorely regretted some of my choices. The mediocre quality of processed food against what I can create in my home or find in a top-notch restaurant loses in a show-down every time. 

My mind has reawakened to a consciousness that appreciates what and how I eat. I have no idea if I'm thinner because I didn't weigh myself and I seriously don't care. But I do know that I'm lighter in spirit without the heavy burden of unchecked eating hanging over my head and resting in my stomach. 

I plan on doing one again whenever I need to refocus my mind-- when I'm not cooking or cleaning up after cooking, I have time to think and decompress. If you're interested in a cleanse, I recommend it but not because you want to lose weight but because you're ready to challenge yourself physically as well as mentally.

Old Dog, New Tricks

In general, I hate celebrating my birthday. I think there was a time where I was a kid where I tried to plan a party and everything fell through last minute, and being a January baby, I never got to have a pool party, so I've since been scarred. This bitterness subsided as I eagerly awaited turning 21 (the last cool age) and promptly returned after my hangover from the aforementioned birthday evaporated.

As my mid-twenties slipped in and out of my fingers, I woke up realizing that I was in my late twenties.

Um, what? When did that happen???

For anyone who is older and annoyed that I am whining about my 27^th year, please just hear me out:

It is not a matter of the number that bothers me—I undergo this annual meltdown every year with the exception of years 16-21—including the years before--I cried when I turned 13 and I cry now at 27.

To me, it is more about where I am in my life against what I had planned. Ah, my infamous plans, destined to doom, as per life’s usual dark humor.

But despite all the lists of “30 Things to Do Before You’re 30” and any other bosh that someone came up with to help legitimize a love of cats and early bedtimes, I still cried on my birthday as I felt the weight of time laying into my bones. My 27 year old bones. In rapid valley girl toned succession I thought:

I should floss more. I should read more. I should drink less wine. I should write more. I really don’t read enough. How many books did I read last year? Audiobooks are not cheating. Ew, I’m such a millennial. But I’m still a 90’s kid at heart! Ohmygosh kids in the 90's are just turning 21. I’m so out of touch. I will never be cool again. I should have a dog by now. I should be married by now. I don’t have time for a wedding. I need to make more plans. I should have gone to the gym this morning. Birthdays are the worst.

Sob. Sob. Sob.

Part of this stems from the social norms and pressures that come from too many episodes of Full House and Friends. Part of this comes from being a naturally neurotic Capricorn-oldest sister/only girl combination. In order to blatantly distract myself from this annual depression, man-friend and I went shopping, had beers, and ate apps. Basically my three favorite activities… maybe today isn't so awful?

As the evening plans approached, my natural instinct was to estimate all of the things that would and could, go wrong. My expectations satisfactorily lowered, we headed into the night.

I had attempted barring people from saying happy birthday, but since that’s kind of a jerk move, I politely thanked them and forced myself to remember how nice it was for people to send you love on your life anniversary. With my guard down due to a delicious spicy cocktail and two fish tacos, I was having a good time. How is this possible? I’m supposed to hate my birthday! That’s the tradition-cake be damned!

But the temptation of my favorite humans in one space, gathered to laugh and eat and make too much noise proved to be exactly the opposite of what I wanted, yet precisely what I needed. As we caught up with each other about new adventures and recent [i.e. since college] successes, I forgot about milestones and all the shouldas that haunted my morning. I had planned to be disappointed with my evening and I was so incredibly wrong. Catching up with friends, and witnessing reunions that were five years overdue, reminded me of everything I had done to-date. A degree, a military career, a loving support system, a healthy spirit and an appreciation for little things like arranging flowers on Sunday or quiet nights at Trader Joe’s—these little things are what aging was about.

The morning after, I woke up with a heart full of love. I’m starting my 27^th year with a Cheshire Cat grin. Somehow I found a victory and I beat the Birthday Blues against all of the odds. If turning 27—or any other age for that matter, means that you set free some of the worries you carry around, I don’t think aging is such a morbid (get it?) thing after all.

I don’t regret crying my tears, but I’m quite sure next year’s sob-session will be laden with some tears of joy and gratitude. Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks.