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.

A Resolution

Photo via Clementine Daily

I didn't make a New Year's Resolution this year.

Last year I was adamant about getting fit (or "strong" as I commonly referred to it), and then there was the imminent drop off that happens when I see good food that requires a nap in lieu of a stint on the treadmill afterward. I'm definitely part of that percentage that researchers are always jesting about.

Sorry for being a typical human, you cynics.

But 2014--despite battling the daily debate of croissant* vs. salad--turned out better for me than I anticipated regardless of losing focus of my resolution. Part of it was being part of The Everygirl community that helped me choose various challenges to be mindful of daily, and part of it was coming to terms with my body and the realities that come with living in it.

The revitalized real-woman body movement has come to help me acknowledge that my thighs will always touch, and as I grow older, I come to find my shape endearing. I will still be picky about what groceries I choose and I will forever be hyper-conscious of what I eat and how active I am, but I decided this year I didn't need a declared proclamation to bolster this mindset. It set me up for a level of disappointment and level of self-reproach that I choose not to endure in 2015.

I've had conversations with many of my friends and it seems the same theme rings true-- like a BuzzFeed post, we realize that the things we use to strive for (a late 20's-early 30's existence that resembled an episode of Friends) don't align with where we actually are (8:30 p.m. bedtimes and potentially making enough money to afford organic pasta) or where we are going, (babies, weddings, career changes, cross-state moves) and we don't need resolutions to change these realities.

But it's totally cool. I like getting enough sleep. And splurging on one nice homemade dinner is something I'm okay with-- the alternative being 12 questionably-fitting shirts I didn't need from Target but had to buy because they were on sale. When I think about where I want my year to go, it's less about ostentatious changes and more about tiny adjustments along the way.

Madelynn Furlong, author of the Wide Eyed Legless blog (just scroll down on her site to view the posts) a writer who I find to have a delightfully refreshing perspective this year, just re-grammed the photo above with the caption

"Sharing my New Years resolutions on the blog this morning and learning piece by piece the wom[a]n I want to become." 

I think the latter part of the sentence is the closest I'll get to a resolution this year, if only because I believe we've all inadvertently been practicing this method our whole lives.

Piece by piece. A little at a time, no grand gesture, no movie montage or dramatic knee-drop (not today at least) to creating a year that I can look back on with satisfaction or at the very least with the knowledge that I'm on my way to a better version of myself every day. We have to start somewhere, right?

*I am currently eating a Cheese Danish.

Holiday Vacation

I am of the camp that strongly believes adults need Spring Break (and other subsequent days off), too.

Perhaps it’s the 12 formative years of my life that formed a rhythm that ingrained summer vacation and days ending at 2:30pm into my bones, but I long for that schedule. Particularly, when work days start and end in nighttime dotted with lunch-time visits to Target encompass my encounters with daylight.

This holiday season flew in and landed on my lap with a notable bang. Making the most of our time in the cities doesn't leave much time for staying at home to nothing for the sake of doing nothing. Each time I’d lounge, I’d remember that the moments I was taking to enjoy my own company were moments I was missing with my friends. Memories I wouldn't have the opportunity to make when we move to Bismarck and so with the ghost of relocation future hovering at my shoulder, I made plans on plans on plans.

And then we had a party. And then I did my holiday shopping. And then it was Christmas. And oh yeah, I got sick.

Bedridden for a day and shaky at best post-nausea, I remembered the one thing I had always been so good about: I need to take time for myself. In the season of giving, we forget to care about ourselves. I certainly did. I stopped working out, stopped writing, stopped cooking all in favor of hunting for more garland and making sure I found the ‘perfect something’ for the special people in my life.

After being bodily forced to stay in and rest, I rediscovered the value of taking a break amidst everything we try to juggle during this season. I doubt I’ll ever win in the battle of Winter Vacation for Grown-ups vs. being a regular adult and letting it go, but it doesn't mean I can’t make the effort to rest and care for myself. A little bit of yoga, a lot of good meals, and an extra nap or three should do the trick.

Happy holidays and sincere wishes of good health to you all!

The Holiday Party

A cheers among neighbors to a merry night.

My neighbor, and gal pal (I think I’m at the appropriate age to use that phrase?) Karly threw a holiday party this past weekend.

How do people do this? I feel like Moms have these things down-pat. Did they all go through this process when they were pre-familia? As it is, I gave myself a pass for visiting Trader Joe’s and Target multiple times a day. Considering I had no garland or wrapping paper or anything of any holiday value to speak of, I’d say I built my stores like an efficient little squirrel planning for a long winter.

Anyway, the party went off better than I’d hoped. Karl, as she is known among friends, made a beautiful array of appetizers that were an absolute hit judging by all the empty plates at the end of the night.

Aside from wanting an excuse to sip cider and make pretty plates, the party was a way to bring worlds together if not for one last time. We go to weddings, birthdays and sometimes we have demi-reunions at Homecoming games, but how often do we intentionally unite multiple groups of friends for no reason other than “just because”? We move, we have kids, and we get consumed in our lives, but we decided to take some time just for us, as friends and enjoy the company before the opportunity slipped away with time.

For me, this was a way to celebrate not only the season, but also some of the people who make our memories so charmed. Melting together the generations (high school, college, post-grad, pre-baby, etc.) of our lives made my heart swell with joy; there are so many versions of yourself that certain groups get to know, that it almost seems like your life is a puzzle of pieces that don’t make sense until you put them all together. Some of us are lucky enough to have someone who has seen you through all those experimental stages, and as I approach the next year of my life, I am grateful (sometimes) that I have witnesses to the madness. But as I continue to grow and discover new parts of my personality and true self, I have the exceeding urge to bring these pieces and people together.

We did a circle of introductions and a white elephant gift exchange, and as my worlds collided before my eyes, I became so grateful for the family we've found and cultivated in this place I call home. I know when I look back on my life, this is what it’ll be all about. These friends, the laughter, the good food, the hilarious gifts (VHS tapes anyone?) and the ability to appreciate it all.

Under the tree or not, I got the gift I need this holiday season, 

and it didn't come from a store. 

Happy holidays to you and yours from a truly full heart.

Magic

No, not the Harry Potter kind of magic (although I LOVE that kind, too).

The kind of magic that happens when the lights, the music, the laughter and chatter fill a room to the absolute brim with full hearts and good intentions.

Last night at The Copper Hen, Johnna Holmgren, one part of the ever talented Fox Meets Bear, hosted an event to be remembered: Champagne and Chandeliers. An activity night built around creating festive Eucalyptus laden wreaths, culminated into much more than just arts and crafts.

My favorite part about the Minneapolis-St. Paul community is the genuine charm of everyone in it. Amongst Instagrams and the pop of Veuve bottles, you heard the sound of people getting to know one-another with an authentic curiosity.

Johnna, the kind of person who calms the spirit with her presence, gave an overview of the wreaths but also took the time for introductions. I found this so incredibly valuable to unifying the space that I was too distracted to think of anything particularly clever to say come my turn.

We began our wreaths and instantly I was transfixed on working with the beautiful varietals of Eucalyptus, and the night's greenery VIP, Myrtle. It was a creative reverie with candles, brick exposed walls, and glowing touches of copper.

There was no pressure to compare wreaths and no compulsion to rush. The perfect antagonist to the previous days' Black Friday through Cyber Monday chaos. A wreath. So simple, and symbolic of whatever your heart's desire and yet each wreath that was built seemed to invigorate each creator with a similar current of energy.

Of course, I was also smitten with the food. In the excess of Thanksgiving, (and in the excess of pizza I regularly consume), the boards of cheeses were just the right kind of indulgent. A cheddar bleu (yes, it's a real thing) and a triple cream brie (yes, it's as glorious as it sounds) were among my favorites. Savories were abound but despite not being a huge cupcake person, I could not resist the beautiful house-made gingerbread cupcakes with a sinful layer of cardamom cream cheese frosting. It took all of my willpower not to abduct an entire platter and perform experiments to discover the secrets behind such a ridiculous combination.

If you're hungry, you should be. I am, and I was there. And I will most definitely be back.

In your holiday season, I hope you can discover this kind of magic. The pure and honest kind that reminds you what the festivities are truly all about.

Grateful

Thanksgiving? Oh you mean that holiday between Pre-Christmas shopping and Official Christmas shopping? Is it on sale? Yeah, I get into that.

Sad but true, right? It's like Back-to-School season in June: we see you marketers, we know you're sneaking into our retailers earlier each year, but is nothing-- even Thanksgiving-- sacred anymore?

Last year I noted this little injection of mass consumerism and couldn't help but be a little sick with myself. Um, sorry, I am admittedly the Queen of clearance and Sultan of sales, so for me this season is like, well, Christmas so I contributed to this disaster [insert Home Alone face here].

I couldn't help but feel my own participation haunt me as I gagged on how much I heard my co-cube fixate on gifts for her kids: tablets, clothes and more toys.

But what is it all worth? 

I love gift giving, I am pretty sure it's one of my love languages. But despite spending the last few years living at home, with a comfortable job, and an extended network of family and friends that love me, I was still a pouty little brat. So took a step back to consider what I was truly grateful for, some material, some not, but let's be honest, if you're reading this list on your Macbook and say you're only grateful for your friends and family, you're a liar.

• I'm grateful for the friends that make me laugh so hard that I cry. Friends that overshare and that are so sweet they cry with you. Happy and sad tears. Group texts that are technically conversations that have literally lasted for years. For random dinner dates or hangovers from reunions.
• I'm grateful for my family. They're messy and weird and basically can fill their own DSM-5 with drama-founded disorders but they're also mine, and made me who I am even if who I am is consistently annoyed with my family. (It's a cyclical thing.)
• I am grateful for the opportunities I've been presented. Not always ideal (ahem, Bismarck), but whatever. Trade-off for getting to go to Hawaii for two weeks? Ew, traveling and new adventures are the worst.
• I'm grateful for audiobooks, because without them I would never get any housework done.
• I am grateful for people who post pictures of puppies. I love puppies and those pictures have saved me from many-a-meltdowns.
• I'm grateful for drive-thru coffee. Because, duh.
• I'm grateful for people who still spell out "through" because "thru" looks stupid.
• I'm grateful for this country, and this era. It's not cheesy when you think about how as a woman, who is brown, I can do anything a man can do in this country without the fear of having my head chopped off. Literally. 
• I am grateful for wine.
• I am grateful for man-friend, because he tolerates me daily. Because he sacrifices his sanity for me for the sake of a well-cooked taco and a smooch. 

Some of those things you can buy, but some you can't. For the memories of them all. That's what I'm most grateful for. I hope today, if you trample someone for a pre-pre-pre-Black Friday steal, that you spend equally as much energy spreading some love, because we can all be grateful for that.

• And bacon, obviously I'm grateful for bacon.

But that’s living, isn't it?

I write these back to back because the first post was getting long. But also because they are directly related. 

As I sent my emails and eagerly awaited the fatalist’s demise, I wondered what I would have to do to start actually pursuing a life outside of ‘wants’ and ‘shouldas’. What if I actually got everything I asked for now that I’ve let my fear stop ruling my life?

—Cue: Katy Perry’s “Roar”—

Don’t judge me, I love that song, jungle music video and all.

I have shortly found out that the answer to that question is: You get tired, and energized at the same time. I’m intimidated and inspired by all of the amazing people I've been able to meet in the last week.Yes, one week, and my mind is already blown.

I have drank an excess of café miels so much so that I won’t be surprised if I turn into a bee. I’ve stayed up late writing emails, squeezing in a round of dirty dishes, researching, and spent mornings taking tests and cackling with relative strangers of the sharpest wit. I’m exhausted at work during the day not as much physically, but more mentally if only because I’m riding a mental adrenaline rush that can only come from meeting brilliant, powerful, strong people who believe in pursuing your goals and dreams.

A tight-rope of sanity is being crossed, and the risk is falling into madness but, that’s life isn’t it?

 They are part of the world’s committee that says, “Yes, you can, dummy.” It’s a kaleidoscope of emotions and although I am not fearless by any means, I am alight with the momentum of the universe. There is no more silence, and it is a beautiful sound.

To exist is to throw oneself into the world. - Simone de Beauvoir
Image via @frenchwords