Make Your Home Happy

The single best piece of advice I got on marriage came from a coworker at the bridal shower my office threw for me a few weeks before our wedding. This instruction came from a particular coworker who is someone I look up to greatly: she is always fun, doesn’t take life too seriously (in the best way), lives in a constant state of utter fabulousness, and is generally the life of the party, whether you like it or not thankyouverymuch. Her advice, which I have taken to heart is simple.

“Always try to make your home happy. Do something, no matter how small, every day to make it that way.”

Every few weeks, she comes up to me at work with the sole intent of asking me, “Ashleigh, are you making your home happy?” The anecdote that came with this question on the last occasion really shed some light on just how central this practice is to her marriage and just how well it works. “Even just lighting a candle. Sometimes when my husband and I are fighting and we can’t solve it, we stop talking, light a candle, and just sit in silence. It totally works.” Then she fell into her contagious little fit of laughter that seems to convey just how little she cares about how absurd she thinks she’s being. Well, oh-role-model-of-mine, I don’t think you are absurd at all. I think you are quite marvelous.

Putting this into practice is not always easy, and the simple things are often the ones that fall through the cracks. This is even more true due to the fact that Bill and I have opposite work schedules, and it is quite the bummer. I work a normal 40-hour work week from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Friday. Easy enough. But layer on top of that Bill’s schedule of Friday through Tuesday from 2 p.m. to midnight, and things become tricky. We almost never have a full day off together. Case in point, from September 3rd to December 24th, we will not have had a single day off to spend together. So basically, as newlyweds, we are not only trying to figure out this whole marriage thing, but we’re trying to figure out this whole marriage thing with very limited time together. I find find myself wanting to put a lot of effort into making the moments we do have a little extra special, but life often gets in the way and the “important” things take over.

This Sunday, an autumn-themed breakfast prepared while Bill was still asleep meant that he woke up to a home warmed with the smell of pumpkin and cinnamon, and we spent a very rare quiet morning sharing a lazy breakfast at our dining room table. To bring the spirit of fall inside, I pulled one of my favorite things out of the cupboard.

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This stuff is to die for. Pumpkin plus cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg is QUITE the combo, let me tell you.

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I decided to add a little something extra in the form of honey and chopped pecans in place of the traditional butter-and-syrup staples. Great decision.

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One of the things that makes home happier for me is having flowers in plain sight, so these autumn lovelies took center stage on the table.

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A surefire way to measure success when it comes to Bill and food? A severe lack of eye contact while said meal is present. This quick little spread took about 20 minutes to prepare but made a huge impact on my week. I easily could have poured myself a bowl of cereal and called it breakfast, but it was much more rewarding to hear the grizzly bear upstairs awaken from his slumber to the whiff of something delicious coming from the kitchen and subsequently follow his nose, stumbling loudly down the stairs. The payoff that resulted – the look of utter surprise followed by hungry anticipation followed by genuine appreciation followed by complete mutual contentedness in our full, happy bellies – will always be worth the effort.

Sounds like a happy home to me! This is officially my mission from here on out.

Midweek Muse: Commit

this is my commitment

to live up
to the spirit
that is in me

-source unknown

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find it… feed it… free it.

Halterween: A Tradition is Born

Here’s a piece of irony for you.

One of the things I’ve been so looking forward to in marriage – and I mean really excited about – is the establishment of new traditions. Why is that ironic? Well, I suppose it’s because the very definition of tradition (according to Dictionary.com) is “a continuing practice” or “a long-established or inherited way of thinking or acting”. So basically I’ve been excited about doing the same thing over and over again for an undetermined amount of time. Coming from a generation obsessed with a constant stream of shiny new things and keeping up with the (fill in the blank here: times, trends, outrageous/materialistic/overly dramatized reality TV family that I’m secretly infatuated with… don’t hate me for my guilty pleasures), you would think traditions would be the last thing that would get me going. But maybe that is one of the reasons why I AM so fired up about new ideas becoming Halter family mainstays. Traditions offer a warm, home-y sense of security in an age where constant bombardment with pressure and expectations is commonplace. If you think about it, traditions are great conversation starters and so fun to talk about because they are always so… weird. Quirky. Ridiculous. In fact, they are often the only excuse we have to legitimize being weird, quirky, and ridiculous. I mean, seriously, how else would I get away with some of the things I wrote about in a previous post, like eating cookies for breakfast on a certain magical holiday? Traditionally, calories don’t count on Christmas morning. And you can’t argue with that – it’s FAMILY TRADITION.

It seems to me that in order for something to become tradition, it has to have happened twice. After the first time, we can intend for something to become tradition, but that’s all talk until it actually does. That is why Halloween was so highly anticipated for me this year. Last Halloween, my roommate and I co-hosted a dinner party that consisted of a small guest list, butternut squash lasagna, costumes, and lots of candy. We were over the downtown scene with the 21+ crazies shedding themselves of any and all sensibilities or societal rules (plus, getting a ride home on this particular night is a big, fat pain…), and we decided to bring the party to us. It went well, and a bar was set. Since that night, however, I have referred to it in my brain as the “First Annual”, but I’ve been unable to put my money where my mouth is until this year’s fete.

SO I’m proud to introduce to you snapshots from “The 2nd Annual Supper Bloody Supper at the Halterween Mansion”!

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First up, we took down every ounce of normality in terms of decor and created an ambiance and vibe that was sure to please. (Those apple slices you see in that picture? Caramel apply vodka jello shots. Deadly.)

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My gorgeous co-host to the left (Cher from Clueless) and some lifesaving help to the right (Mean Girls!).

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On the menu, slow-cooker vegetarian chili with optional pulled pork on the side, corn bread, and a sweet potato bar complete with all the fixin’s you could ever dream of.

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An endless spread of booze and sugar guarantee a good time.

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Next ingredient: amazing friends bringing the cheer.

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Mixing and mingling…

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The hubby as Minnesota Vikings embarrassment Josh Freeman and the pup as the penguin to my polar bear.

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New friends were made when Jim Harbaugh joined the festivities.

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And NFL coach royalty Harbaugh and Ditka put Freeman in his place.

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Again with Caramel Apples… Deliciously dangerous.

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An unplanned Arctic (and okay, OKAY, Antarctic) takeover.

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And finally, the family to make it a family tradition.

The bar has been set high, my lovelies. I’m already jazzed for the 3rd Annual Supper Bloody Supper at the Halterween Mansion, and all the “Annuals” come, in all their weird, quirky, ridiculous glory.

Get Your Cute Butt Out the Door: A Working Girl’s Musings on Exercise

There is a question that I get asked often, and that is how I manage to motivate myself to go to the gym after a long day at work. It’s a topic that comes up frequently in the following forms:

  • Friend: I was going to go to the gym tonight, and then I decided not to… Now you’re making me feel bad.
  • Coworker: You’re so good.
  • Husband: I can’t imagine having to go to the gym after work. I don’t know how you can do that.
  • Friend: YOU’RE GOING TO THE GYM TONIGHT?!?!
  • Another friend: I’m going home to sit on my couch and watch TV. I’m exhausted, and I don’t know how you do it.

It’s true. I go to the gym a lot, and it’s often after a full(+) workday. But don’t get me wrong: this is not something that has come easy. I used to go months without working out. In fact, if you had conducted a close study of my health and self-care habits in college, you might be utterly disgusted. After class and work and meetings and rehearsal and dates and friend time and on and on and on, the last thing that I wanted to do was stand up, change and exercise. No thanks. But now that I’m older and much more educated, I just wish I hadn’t wasted so much time.

Now there are definitely some life circumstances that contribute to making it to the gym so often, but I want to make a huge disclaimer. This is not your out. Yes, I do have a husband who works most nights, leaving me at home to do as I please. Yes, I don’t have to cook a dinner for a family of four. I am able to put off chores until the weekend if I so choose. If you have those things, I genuinely congratulate you, but they are not to be used as excuses. Dictionary.com offers the definition of an excuse as “a plea offered in extenuation of a fault or forrelease from an obligation, promise, etc.”, and in this case, that obligation or promise is to take care of yourself. Excuses are for someone else. Working out is for yourself. If you are legitimately too busy, or have a family, or can’t physically get there today, fine. But take a minute to think about how taking care of yourself actually benefits your mind, your family, and your relationships, and I think you’ll realize that excuses are not accepted here. Sorry.

I used to be captive to my excuses. I would tell whoever would listen and hope that it would make me feel better, that this little feeling in my stomach that felt like I was doing something wrong would go away. Want to know how I made it go away? I started doing what I was supposed to, but all the reasons I was telling myself were bullshit. True, honest-to-God bullshit. I was the only thing holding myself back, and it turns out that the real trick to exercising on the regular was to change my MINDSET, not my circumstances, This took a lot of initiative and a swift kick in the proverbial pants to start educating myself and becoming aware of my body, my thoughts, and my self-talk. And then on top of that, I had to change it. Like I said, not an easy task.

But here I am today, hoping to make it a little easier for you to get your cute butt out the door and in shape by giving you some of the tips that have helped me get to the amazing place where I have (shockingly) found myself, Getting out the door is no longer as hard as it used to be, and the payoff is incredible. Here is what personally changed my mind, my body, and my life.

1) I’ve fallen in love with my gym.

Notice I didn’t write “I’ve fallen in love with THE gym”. That’s because I have tried a few in my area, and they never quite fit. All throughout college, I had access to a huge recreation center right on campus, and I hardly ever went (except for hip-hop class – that was great) because despite strict dress code rules of no tank tops or super short shorts, it was an absolute meat market. I went to a huge state-of the art gym in the community for two years, but I had to wait in line for cardio machines, for weight machines, for classes, for everything. I spent $50 a month to stand around. Oh, and it was a meat market. After all that, I finally settled on the one that was right for ME. I go to Equilibrium Fitness for Women, an all-women’s gym less than a mile from my house. Everyone here is supportive, welcoming, stoked on life, and okay – yes, female. I never wait in line, the girls at the front desk no my name, and I’m surrounded by badass empowered women every time I walk through the door. I found where I wanted to work out, and now it feels like my other home.

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2) I turn my excuses to skip my workouts into reasons to exercise.

It is so easy to make excuses to skip workouts, and one of the best things I’ve done is commit to getting honest with myself. For example, I HATE getting ready (i.e. showering, blow drying my hair, doing my makeup) more than once in a day OR any time other than in the morning. Lunchtime workouts just do not work for me. I can’t do it. Therefore, since I’m going to get a workout in, I know I have to plan my them as either my first or last public outing of the day. That way I can make myself presentable for the rest of the day after getting sweaty, or I can shower right before I hibernate for the night. I also hate washing my hair every day, and the truth is, I don’t need to so I tend to go the every other day route. But when I work out, I SWEAT. So how do you get to the gym a majority of your days when it would just be so easy to say, “I don’t want to have to do my hair” tomorrow? Well, I do my hardcore workouts on hair-washing days and then plan a yoga class and light cardio on the others. Easy-peasy. Maybe this sounds ridiculous to you, but we all have those excuses we are secretly ashamed of. You know, those ones we rationalize in our heads, but know that if we said out loud we’d get an eye roll to put us in our place from the nearest person, no matter stranger or closest friend. But who cares?!?! OWN YOUR EXCUSES. Once you do, you can turn them into reasons. Now I always try to workout on hair-washing days, because that to me is a reason to get a weight lifting session in, not skip it.

3) Do what you FEEL like doing.

The key here is not to ask yourself whether you feel like going to the gym. By then you’ve already given yourself “NO” as an option. But if you ask yourself instead, “What kind of workout do I feel like doing?” then you’ve eliminated the possibility before you even realize it. Too tired for cardio? Yoga or Pilates. Want to get outside? Go for a run, or if that sounds like it sucks, walk your dog. Have a bad day? Take a combat class, and get out your anger. Feeling like turning your brain off? Find a magazine and park yourself on an elliptical. Hate even the thought of working out? Go dance your ass off, for God’s sake. The truth is that ANY workout is a workout, not just the hardcore ones. If you don’t feel like leaving your house, give yourself permission to do push-ups on the stairs or pop in a Jillian Michaels DVD. It doesn’t matter how long or short your workout is. It doesn’t matter what anyone else is doing right now. Comparison will do nothing for you. Check in with your bad self and do what you feel like, because as long as you’re moving, I’ll count it. So move!

4) Find what gets you pumped.

ONE new song on my iPod = Instant change in my mood about working out. The new issue of Women’s Health magazine in my mailbox = Four to seven days of inspiration, depending on how fast I devour it. But the thing that really gets me excited? (And disclaimer, I am totally unashamed for what I am about to reveal.) NEW WORKOUT CLOTHES!!!! I love the way I feel in brand new exercise gear. And yes, I am that girl rocking neon in the worst way in the corner of the gym. I don’t care if it’s obnoxious! I LOVE it. My highlighter yellow Nikes got me through my first half marathon. I feel like a boss in the purple UnderArmor tee my sister-in-law got my for Christmas. I kick ass when I wear all black in my combat class. Once I figured this out, I started to spread out my purchases. New yoga pants here, new sports bra there. It keeps me excited, no matter how weird it sounds. My newest obsession? THESE BABIES.

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I can’t wait to put them on! So find your song, your subscription, your hot pink leopard print kicks, and rock them. Whatever gets YOU out the door.

5) Most importantly, make your working out about getting, being, and staying HEALTHY, and nothing else.

This one takes work, and the effort is two-fold. First, you have to start educating yourself on health and wellness. For instance, you know that the sticky stuff you lick on an envelope to seal it? Well, that’s called gum arabic, and they put it in M&M’s and marshmallows. Gross right? I don’t want to put stuff like that in my body, but I would have kept doing it had I not just chosen to read about it. There is so much information out there, and it’s just waiting for you. Whether you prefer blogs and websites or magazines and good old-fashioned books, it’s there, and it will change your life. The second part of this is you need to decide what being healthy means to you. To me, it’s not just a state of being, it’s a lifestyle. It means exercising and eating right, yes. But to me, it also means getting 8 hours of sleep, reducing my stress level as much as possible, having supportive relationships in my life, maintaining a healthy weight, going to all of my doctors regularly, and generally living clean. So why do we each have to define “healthy” when we could just look up the definition the easy way? Because once you take the initiative and define it yourself, you’ve just found your ultimate motivation. You will not get off the couch unless you feel compelled to, and once you attach real meaning behind your action, you will do just that. Promise.

There is a quote from Dr. Wayne W. Dyer that goes as follows: “Don’t die with your music still inside you.” Well, there is a whole lot of potential living inside your kick-butt self right now, just waiting to be set free. Don’t just let it sit there! Go out there and release your energy into the world. I’ll meet you at the finish line.

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P.S. Check out my sick new Lorna Jane jacket. That puppy has already gone on a run, on a hike, AND to yoga class since I got it with my step-sister a week ago. No shame.

Weekend Snapshots: Pumpkin Overload and Auntie Ash

I pretty much had the best weekend ever. Let me lay it out for you.

After work on Friday, I picked up a little lady named Tori. I have considered her family from the beginning, even though our connection to one another is a far too complicated to be fully conveyed in a single breath. Needless to say, I inherited her when I took the Halter name, and she’s pretty much, well, awesome. Not to mention that the amount of laughing we did on 6-hour late night drive to San Diego could have fueled us passed the Mexican border and back again.

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Dinner was a pit stop in Santa Barbara to avoid traffic and to not avoid heaven in a seafood burrito from Los Arroyos off of State Street.

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Is 90 miles too far to drive for burritos on a regular basis?

A ridiculous drive could only end in more ridiculousness when we end up in the Gaslamp District with Tori’s hotel in full view but utterly inaccessible due to a canal and what seemed like hundreds of blocked off streets and “No Left Turn” signs. I dropped her off with her dad and finally rolled into my amazing step-sister’s and brother-in-law’s house around midnight. Within 30 minutes, I passed out despite the unbearable anticipation and excitement of what the morning would bring.

And of course the morning brought it with the adorable noises and delighted screams of a 15-month-old nephew enjoying waffles and bananas for breakfast in his high chair.

At 5:15 a.m.

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I already knew it was love when I met him for the first time last Christmas. What I didn’t realize was just how much power such a little man could hold over me. Exhibit A is the fact that he got me making up silly games pre-hair and makeup (and oof, there’s the picture above to prove it…).

The weekend following was a whirlwind that included…

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A dangerous amount of Pinteresting dotted by fits of sister-bonding over baking…

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Pumpkin White Chocolate Chip Muffins with a recipe via Culinary Concoctions by Peabody (via Pinterest, of course)…

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I love partaking in one of my favorite festivities of the season: pumpkin carving!

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…with an obvious gap in talent and capability between myself and the surgeon. No, seriously. Doug’s a Physician’s Assistant. He operates.

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And Saturday ended with meticulous separation of pumpkin guts and seeds for the roasting of one delicious snack.

Sunday was another early morning that transformed into a run with Jess on trails around a lake near her house. There was girl talk. There was wife talk. There was I-Can’t-Breathe-But-I’m-Still-Talking talk.

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And since my mom and stepdad (or Grandma and Papa depending on your personal situation in the family hierarchy) were walking the dog and the babe behind us, and lake usually equals ducks, we obviously had to partake in some duck watching post-run.

The whole trip was downright amazing. I’m pretty much overcome by all the love and family that surrounded me, and I never even questioned driving the 6 hours each way in the span of around 48 hours. It did, however, make for a very bittersweet, sad-happy Monday of daydreaming at my desk, knowing I’m so far away from some of the most important people in my life. I’m very recently beginning to understand the feeling of family – ironically, through the addition of new members resulting from the breakup if my traditional immediate family. Despite everything, it’s so beautiful to walk into the home of someone you didn’t know six or so years ago and truly feel like you belong. Life just seems that much more wonderful with so many loved ones around, and it’s hard to be away from them most of the time. It’s a good thing that every time I see them, I take a little more of them with me when I leave. Is it possible for your heart burst right out of your chest? Because looking back at pictures from the past few days, that’s about how I’m feeling.

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Especially when I see this sweet little face. He kills me.

Today Is A Day

Most days we wake up and nothing really changes. Some days we wake up and everything changes with no warning. But then there are those rare days when you wake and know everything is changing, but you have no idea just how much or in which way. While you’re looking left at this shiny new experience, life blindsides you from the right by giving you a gift you didn’t ask for and never knew you needed.

Today is a very special day. Today is Jen Smiley’s birthday.

The first weekend I arrived on my new college campus 8 years ago was awkward. Now, when I am 18 and moving to a new city, there are two versions of this story evolving simultaneously. The first is visible from the outside: “I’m way too cool to care about this”. The second is what is actually happening behind the apathetic exterior and goes a little something like “ohmigodwhatamIdoinghereIjustwanttotellmymomtotakemebackhomesoIcancry”. So on my first day at Cal Poly while my inner turmoil and outward appearance were epically battling, the thought that the girl with big hair sitting across from me at the Family Welcome barbecue would be anything more than my freshman year roommate was completely out of the question.

Now she’s my best friend.

And number one confidante.

The person who makes me laugh harder than anyone else ever.

Did I mention she was my maid of honor?

Oh, and we warned my husband we were a package deal.

Let me break it down for you. She is the ketchup to my grilled cheese, the Redfoo to my Sky Blu, and the sea monkey to my sea horse. Worlds were rocked eight years ago, but don’t worry, ain’t no big thing.

Yeah, that’s not true at all. It IS a big thing. And today is a big day, because it’s a day to celebrate Jen and all the love and happiness and beautiful chaos that she has brought into my life. A day to celebrate wonderful friends who have been there through the boys and the classes and the late nights and the tears. Love you, girl. I hope you have the best birthday ever.

I mean it.

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A Little Autumn Happy Dance

I woke up yesterday morning at 6:15 a.m., as per usual, and came downstairs for breakfast. Now, I live with this little monster I like to call Indy, and every morning just about the time I’m ready to sit down to eat, she comes tearing down the stairs like it’s Christmas morning. She stands in front of the door, doing a little happy dance, clicking her nails on the laminate floor, until I let her outside to relieve herself on the little patch of grass between the houses.

But this particular morning when I opened the door, it was different. In the dim dawn light, the wind was blowing, the leaves were rustling, and the air was electric.

Ahhh, FALL.

By far my favorite season, I can’t wait for that first fall day every year. Toward the end of September, I get the itch for Pumpkin Spice Lattes, boots and sweaters, and football on Sundays. There is nothing like the crisp air and the changing leaves that mark the last few months of the year. And working at a university, campus comes alive again at the end of September, filled with both new students and those returning to their four-year home. Walking around, you can feel the excitement of the new school year – the chance to make yourself over, get the grade (or the girl/guy), and make this year your year.

Now, where I grew up, you can see, feel, and smell that it’s fall. On the Central Coast, not so much. My autumn giddiness was soon replaced by slight panting and fanning myself while hiking up the hill that is campus in… 87 degree weather. Go ahead, call me a spoiled brat. I know people who would kill to live where I live, which is why I’m not complaining. After all, it’s not the weather or the clothes or the apple-picking that make or break the season (although I do loves all those things like Indy loves to pee outside in the morning, and by that I mean in a happy dance-inducing kind of way), it’s the feeling that comes along with the combination of all those things. Feelings of warmth, of comfort, of home. People say spring is when love comes out in full force? Honey, I say that’s just hormones. True love comes out in autumn, when every day gets a little chillier, and all you can do to keep warm is pull your loved ones a little closer.

So until the beaches sit lonely, until I can pull my scarf a little tighter around my neck, and until Pumpkin Spice Lattes take over my go-to Starbucks order… I’ll keep my friends a little closer, hold Bill’s hand a little tighter, and call my family a little more often.

And happy-dance that fall may be just around the corner outside, but it’s already here in my cheesy little heart.

Kind of like this.

20130925-082714.jpgThis picture is the view from my father’s house on Thanksgiving morning last year…

Soon, darling. Soon.

Permission

When things get stressful and life gets crazy, sometimes what we really need to do is give ourselves permission to take care of ourselves. It’s amazing how many times I hear people (myself included) start a sentence with “I wish I could just…” and finish it with something really wonderful-sounding… and totally attainable. It seems, though, that we often create obstacles that get in the way of just doing it. Maybe it’s money. Maybe it’s time. Maybe it’s family or friends or work or obligations or life in general. For me, it’s usually a combination of all of these things, which then turns into a devastating mixture of guilt for thinking of indulging and disappointment for not doing it.

Lately, things have been stressful and life has been crazy, and all I’ve wanted to do was get out of town. I’ve wanted to get out of town, specifically, to Santa Barbara. I kept waiting for someone to suggest it, or volunteer the idea, or simply just go with me if I asked, and it wasn’t happening. I toyed with the idea of going by myself over and over, and although I have never had a problem doing anything alone, including dining at a restaurant or going to a movie, I was having a hard time justifying spending the money on gas or taking a day off to just go if it was only going to be me.

And then, a week or two ago, I got over myself. I stopped waiting for someone to take the initiative and decided to take it myself. I let money just be money, and I blocked out my calendar, and I got the hell out.

And I found more than what I had hoped for.

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If that doesn’t bring a person some peace of mind, I don’t know what will.

I came back a little bit different. I had left that Friday morning with a to-do list and major shoulder tension and come back with a lighter wallet, a more fashionable closet, and a reinforced love of home (see picture above of beautiful California coastline… sigh).

But more than that, I came home with a spirit that burned a little more fiercely and a heart that felt a little lighter. For me, those three hours in the car rocking out to Justin Timberlake and Ellie Goulding, eating that lunch at Cafe Nordstrom, and strolling around State Street felt less like a waste of valuable time, money, and effort, and more like soul-searching. And you know what? It didn’t matter that gas cost money and I had things to do at work and I got home late and had a 10K to run in the morning. It was exactly what I needed.

Do me a favor. Close your eyes, and wherever you are, take a few deep breaths. Check in with yourself. Finish this sentence: “I wish I could just _______.” I don’t care what your answer is. I don’t care if it is reasonable or outrageous or absolutely 100% ridiculous. I don’t care what other people or your insecurities or your inner critic tell you. Give yourself permission to just go out and do it for no one but yourself. You deserve it.

And I do too.

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We’re worth it.

All You Ever Need

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Great friends, good wine, fine china, and inner peace.

Sticks and Twigs

A few weeks ago, while Bill and I were snagging a rare moment together eating a late afternoon snack at the dining room table, our roommate Emily came downstairs. Now, having been in a graduate program with a strong cohort model (read: every.single.class.together) with Emily AND living with her since September, I know when she’s a little nervous. As opinionated and strong as women come, the tip-off is generally a subtle look on her face and an endearing quiver in her voice. However, at this particular moment, no warning was given as she bolted down the stairs on a mission, sat herself right down at the table, and blurted “Ihavesomethingtotellyou. I’mmovinginwithBen”.

Ben is her boyfriend. Girlfriend didn’t even pause for dramatic effect.

It took a minute to process what she had just said. Once said processing finally engaged, two emotions went through me. The first was pure excitement and happiness for her, especially after watching their whole relationship spark and take shape over the past year or so. The second, however, was a little crushed. Emily was an awesome roommate. The day we got the idea in our heads was a year prior while writing graduate-level research papers and drinking beers (yes, simultaneously) at her kitchen table, and we realized that we were spending a good amount of time bitching about the exact same pet peeves and irritating behaviors of past/current roommates. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who laughed and said, “Seriously, we should just live together.” She laughed. I laughed again. Insert tentative glances at each other to see if the other was serious or if we were just crazy. She moved in September 3rd.

Our wine and chocolate nights, impromptu dinner parties, and compulsive venting sessions are over. I am definitely going to miss her.

But it was more than that too. If Emily moved out, Bill and I were faced with a few choices. We could get a new roommate, which seems the exact opposite of desirable two and a half months before our impending nuptials and starting our life together. Or we could try and finagle a way to keep it just us. We opted for the latter, at least for the time being.

So we’re trying to make it work financially, which hasn’t been the most stress-free issue inserted into my world, but it’s totally worth it. Now it’s just us. We have started our nest. At the current moment that nest is a giant disaster – really more of a smattering of sticks and twigs we’ve both been collecting in our separate lives until we found each other. It’s cluttered, disheveled, and has no decorating scheme. We have cabinets stuffed to the brim from pre-roommate-evacuation times, and since Tuesday night, we now also have rooms and closets and refrigerator shelves that are stark and 100% empty.

I’m both excited and intimidated to have such a big creative project ahead of me. A WHOLE house. For us. To start our lives together. Slowly but surely, we will begin piecing our sticks and twigs together, with the hopes of it all eventually resembling a nest. Er, home.

Our home.

How fabulous.