On chilling out…

I’ll be the first to admit: there are times in life when I really need to take a chill pill. Wouldn’t it be nice if those actually existed? If I could get a bottle of chill pills at the grocery store or, heck, while we’re wishing, if I could get a prescription for it, I’d probably be able to manage stress and/or heightened emotions much, much better.
Recently, things around my office have been, shall we say, sheer insanity. At least four times in the last two weeks, I’ve definitely needed a chill pill. I just needed something to help me calm down and take things one step at a time. I’m usually pretty all right in high stress situations, but every now and again, one gets the best of me. And I’ve had two of those situations in as many weeks. It’s exhausting. It drives me to the point of tears. I hate not knowing what to do when sh*t hits the fan. I’m usually the one that has that kind of stuff under control. Take a wedding I did last summer. I have never, in my life, seen one thing after another go so apocalyptically wrong in one day. But for whatever reason, I knew exactly how to handle each situation as it came along. I was able to see the bigger picture (let’s get these crazy kids married) and work some scheduling magic to fit in some pretty key elements for the couple and their parents…all the while, not letting on that I was losing my frickin’ mind over making it happen. The father of the bride came up to me during the reception and asked, “How are you so calm?!” There’s no easy answer for that, but the truth is, there’s no point in me getting worked up. It just makes things worse for the people at a wedding that matter the most (that being, everyone but me).
So why can’t I manage the rest of my life the way I can manage wedding madness? Maybe it’s because I don’t know as much about my day job as I do about weddings. Maybe it’s a lot of reasons. And because of that, I desperatelly wish that drug manufacturers would develop a chill pill.
However, there is another thing that certain people (cough cough Todd Newton) would say I need an even bigger chill pill for: Professional sports…especially regarding basketball…even more especially regarding Carmelo Anthony. I’m getting worked up just thinking about it.

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On taking the first steps….

Let’s talk baby steps. I seem to be surrounded by them lately. My friend’s son just took his first steps the other day (and really, is there anything cuter than that?); my best friend’s son will likely be toddling about in the next few months. A co-worker’s daughter is getting very close to walking.
It’s interesting thinking about baby steps and watching them happen. I remember a picture of little Eli, nearly hysterical trying to pull himself to a standing position inside his crib. My best friend is, in every sense of the word, a wonderful mother…proven by the fact that she took the picture of Eli before calming him down. HA! But that little nugget was not going to quit until he was standing. Nope, he was going to do whatever it took and boy, did he!
We adults could learn a lot from these little ones. They just won’t give up until they get it right. “I can’t do it” is a phrase that simply doesn’t exist for them (yet). They stumble and wobble and fall down, but no matter what, they get right back up and try it again until they finally get the hang of it.
I’m starting my own baby steps…again. With running. I want to run (I think). Well, the reality is that I *need* to run. I love cupcakes so I’ll tolerate running in order to eat the cupcakes without guilt. I used to run. Well, I trained for one race and I thought I did all right with it. Then I just quit. It hurts. It gets hot. My lungs burn. I hate all those feelings, mostly the burning lungs.
But I’m going to give it another go. And maybe this time, I’ll get it right. Maybe this time, I won’t give up five weeks into training. Maybe this time, I’ll convince myself to push harder and go longer. I’m not going to give myself a goal other than that. I won’t say “I’m going to run a marathon” because the fact is, I don’t know if I want to.
That’s what my baby steps look like right now. Just get back on the treadmill a few times a week and not give up…and maybe read a book or two…

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On life’s abnormalities….

I think we all have moments in life when we think, about ourselves, “Well, that’s not normal!” I can think of plenty of things, situations, attributes about my life that have made me think that. Certainly there are some life changes that have taken place that make me feel extremely abnormal. There’s the fact that it took me 11 years to get a bachelor’s degree…that’s not really normal. I could probably come up with an endless list of things that don’t seem “normal,” but if there’s one thing I’d really like to change, it’s this:
My perpetually chapped lips. I HATE that I can never seem to get my lips as soft and smooth as everyone else’s appear to be. I have a remarkable supply of chapstick at my disposal and still, nothing seems to work. I’ve tried just about everything. I do masks (yes, I have a lip mask) and scrubs. I keep chapstick and moisturizing lipstick on hand and in every purse or bag I carry. I have it in my car and at my desk. It’s ridiculous!
And apparently I’m about the only person I know that actually hates running. I wish I liked it. I see so many of my friends running and how much they love it and think, “I wish I had more normal knees and shins and could do that,” but I don’t, so whatever.
Sure, there are plenty of things about me that I’d like to change in order to seem more “normal,” but without our (seeming) abnormalities, we’d be a pretty boring bunch, don’t you think?

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On choosing the right tools….

When I was about 22 years old, I decided to buy myself a really nice set to Craftsman tools for Christmas. It was one of the most useful things I’ve ever given myself. And there’s nothing quite as fun, at least for me, as the first time you buy a really good tool.
I grew up around tools. My dad is a master with them and always had the best of the best for everything from hammers to tablesaws. It helps to have a garage filled with nothing but Craftsman and Ryobi when you’re building and remodeling entire portions of a house. Generally speaking, I know my way around a hardware store and can usually sound well-informed when asking about products and tools.
I’ll never forget the first time I got a power drill. Oh….m’gawd. There was so much I wanted to reinforce just because I could! My dad taught me how to use one when I was probably 8 or 10 years old. It’s a very empowering feeling for a little girl to have control over such a massive tool!
Yet, despite all those amazing home improvement tools, the best tool I have ever gotten (as a gift, nonetheless) is my apple slicer/corer/peeler. During the summer and fall, I use the crap out of that thing! I could make 10 pies a day, just because I have that magical tool. And BONUS! I was recently schooled on how to get the thing to *actually* suction to the counter, making it infinitely more enjoyable to use! 
It’s really kitchen tools that make my heart skip beats. I’m a champ with things like hammers, drills, tape measures, and the like (I’ve even been known, on more than one occasion, to request a pink toolbelt for Christmases and/or birthdays *cough cough wink wink*), but there’s little else that excites me the way a new KitchenAid attachment, spatula, or veggie slicer does.
And let’s not get started on cookie presses and cutters…

On giving it a name….

I have long had a love-hate relationship with technology. There are few things in life that I enjoy and despise as much as consumer electronics. Every time a new gadget comes out (especially if it’s from Apple), I feel like I have to have it! But the second it breaks? DRAMA!!!
Despite all of the emotions I experience when it comes to technology, each piece I’ve ever owned has a special place in my heart. So special, in fact, that I’ve been known to name my stuff.
Several years ago, I was in dire need of a new laptop. This was years before I’d be converted to a MacGirl, so I was given a lovely Dell computer as a gift that arrived at my office and, lo and behold, it was PINK! I mean, obviously it would be pink. That just makes sense for me! Around the same time, this incredibly obnoxious commercial played routinely on Saturday mornings…it was some bizarre toy for girls and the commercial just kept screaming, “Pink! Sparkly! Fun!” over and over again. One day, the commercial was playing while we were formatting my computer (and by “we” I definitely mean “he”) so the computer was offically named PINKSPARKLYFUN.
Ever since then, every single bit of technology I’ve owned has been named that…I currently have a PINKSPARKLYFUNiPhone, a PINKSPARKLYFUNiPad, and a PINKSPARKLYFUNMacBook. Ironically (or not), every single one of them has a pink case (though none of them necessarily sparkly, but definitely fun).
So there you have it. Even when I think I hate something, I still love it enough to give it a name.

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On style choices….

Style intrigues me. It always has. As a girl who was born in the 80s, grew up in the 90s, and really came into her own in the 2000s, I’ve seen a lot of styles come and go…and sometimes come around again. I wore neon and scrunchies. I tight-rolled my jeans. I rocked the overalls with one strap unhooked. I even went so far, at one point, as to wear giant, stove-pipe jeans, tight hoodies, and skater shoes. Please don’t ask what I was thinking…clearly, I wasn’t.

But clothing really isn’t the only thing that encompasses style, is it? When I think about my personal style, it goes beyond feeling trendy and/or professional. My style is very non-confrontational. I’m a people-pleaser and a traditionalist with not a little bit of feminism mixed in. Sometimes my clothing reflects that, sometimes not. It’s not that I ever don’t give a sh*t, it’s just that sometimes, I don’t have the energy to dress in more than sweats and a t-shirt. But I’m always at least wearing nice and clean sweats and generally I try to look pulled together, even when I’m scrubbin’ it.

A big part of my personal style is being happy. I love to laugh and I love making people laugh. I was lying in bed last night with a glass of champagne watching Jim Gaffigan, giggling and snorting and guffawing the entire time. There’s really nothing I love more than a good laugh. Without laughter, life just ain’t worth it.

So there you have it. My basic style, both in clothing and personality.

On seeing love everywhere….

Valentines Day.

Admittedly, I used to hate it. HATE. IT. I was the girl that wore black on February 14th and was generally unpleasant to be around. I can’t even tell you why I hated it. I just did. I probably hated it because someone else in my life did and I thought it was cool to be bitter on Valentines Day.

My perspective changed several years ago. I was told by someone that while Valentines Day can be cliche and over-priced and commercialized, but it can also be a really fun to day irritate the hell out of people with how in love you are. Sure, it’s cliche, but cliches can also be a lot of fun, if you ask me. So yes, I relish in getting red roses and cards and going out to dinner and being all stupid and lovey-dovey on Valentines Day.

This year is a bit different for me in the romantic love department, but that’s not stopping me from celebrating one of the most glorious days of the year. I baked a metric ton of Valentines themed cupcakes yesterday to start my celebration.

So this year, I choose to recognize every different kind of love that’s in my life.
I love my job and my co-workers.
I love my dogs and they love me back.
I have tons of friends that love me and that I also love.
My family loves me and I love them more than I can describe.
Jesus loves me.

And that’s just the very beginning of all the love in my life…

On celebrating life’s cupcakes….

“Nobody notices the bridge that doesn’t fall down.”
My dad, in all his infinite wisdom, said that the other day. It stems from a conversation he had with another person regarding choosing to see the good in life. As humans, we’re pretty notorious for only noticing the bad and the ugly. Just looking at the daily news proves that. Big earthquakes mean big death tolls. Crazy moms that (allegedly) murder their children. Cruise ships that run aground and the people that die. Snowstorms that cause insane traffic pile-ups. I mean, look at how long coverage of 9/11 lasted (and, honestly, continues to last). We fixate on things that are just horrible.
Really, when was the last time you heard AND REMEMBERED a happy news story? I have no idea. Sure, part of that stems from the fact that I don’t have television right now, but I’ve always been a chronic news-watcher/reader and I honestly can’t remember the last happy story I heard.
Because of this (and a million other reasons), it has to be a conscious choice, a concerted effort, to see the good in life. There are crappy things that happen all the time, we can’t get around that. But what’s stopping me from ignoring the bad and fixating, instead, on the good. My pastor said it best, I think: “There are no bad endings.” It makes me think of the SEVERAL crummy days I had last week. I can continue to think about how bad those days were, dwelling on things I can’t change, or I can remember that because of those bad days, I treated myself to a cupcake! And let’s be honest…cupcakes are a pretty good ending (at least, for me)!
Of course, there are much bigger, much harder things to wade through. Much more distressing than anything that happens at work. My personal life is in a bit of upheaval right now…kind of the most upheaval I’ve ever experienced. It’s a crappy ending right now. It’s nearly impossible to see the good in it. I have a friend that is experiencing similar personal turmoil and I don’t know how or if she’s able to see the happy ending in it. But what I believe for myself and for her is that somewhere, somehow, there can be a pretty thick silver lining. It might not happen tomorrow. It might not happen for YEARS. But I’m choosing to believe (for both of us) that it can and will come around.
And in the meantime, I’ll celebrate my cupcakes!

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On finding peace in the mundane….

I’m a creature of habit and routine. Nothing about that statement should really surprise anyone. I’ve been that way for as long as I can remember. There’s very little in my day that goes differently from one to the next. I get up at the same time, do the same things, drink the same coffee, drive the same way to work, and most days, I even eat the same thing. 
I know that for some people that sounds incredibly boring. It sounds boring to me, just to say it. I don’t require a whole lot of excitement in my life, honestly. In fact, what I’m trying to find at this juncture is some peace. So when I think about my daily routine, it makes me wonder: what about anything I do gives me peace? What is something that goes on in my everyday that makes me feel okay? 
There are a lot of things. A long, hot shower always makes me feel good. Getting emails from friends, it’s hard to beat that. When Leo calms down long enough to take a nap with me, that’s pretty relaxing and peaceful. But, honestly, the one thing that is really the most peaceful for me (at least, right now) is when I blowdry my hair. 
I think part of that comes from how distressing it used to be for me to do that. I won’t go into detail about why blowdrying my hair used to cause me such great stress. Suffice it to say, I don’t often feel that way anymore. And my hair is hanging on to the remnants of one of the best coloring and highlighting jobs it’s ever had, so seeing that every morning just makes me happy. 
It’s the little things, I guess.
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On bearing the scars….

“No one cares about the hero until the hero has a crisis to overcome…that’s when the story begins.”
Someone from my distant past said that to me several weeks ago and it’s caused me great pause in my own life, reflecting on what has happened in the last few months. I’ve experience the full breadth of emotions in that time: sadness, fear, anger, loneliness, disgust, regret, empathy, wistfulness, hope, shame. You name it, I’ve felt it.
In the midst of all that, it’s been hard, but I’m trying to re-discover who I am. I’m not trying to re-define myself or turn into someone I know I’m not. I think I’ve just been trying to reacquaint myself with myself. 
So who am I? 
I’m a homebody that loves a good night on the town. I’m a Jesus-loving girl that enjoys going to church not just for the spiritual aspects, but for the friendship. I am not a city girl, but I love being in the city for small bursts of time. I am a family girl, but they drive me crazy sometimes and, in those moments, I don’t feel guilty for wanting a break from them…even if that break lasts for a week or more at a time. I am very independent, but every now and again, I need to know that I can depend on someone else. I can be, and sometimes am, a very selfish person. I get angry at things and people and situations that I should direct my anger at. For lack of better words: “I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child…I’m a sinner, I’m a saint.”
I have as many bad qualities as I do good. It’s a matter of learning to exhibit the good and minimize the bad. It’s learning to be okay when someone points out the bad and being able to recognize it on my own. 
It’s understanding how I’ve been hurt and realizing where I failed and the hurt I caused. 
I am hurt and lonely. But I am also hurtful. 
I will take that feeling with me wherever I go and I will surely take it into my future. But rather than wallow in it, I will choose to feel it fully, learn from it, and move on. 
It’s the only way anything will make sense.

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