Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Apparently, I operate well with lists.
Two more mini-goals down. The first: You can't lose 10 lbs if you don't know what your baseline is. I took the plunge and stood on a scale. It was a sad moment, but now I know the baseline and I can get to work.
The second: Looked for a great lentil soup recipe to (a) support my weightloss goal (low-calorie and low-cost lunch!) and to (b) make some progress toward that goal of finding 2 great lentil recipes. This was a curried lental soup: Leekes, celery, carrot, diced potato, lots of fresh diced garlic and curry powder, and salt. Boiled with bay leaf for about 20 minutes and it tastes amazing. I'm putting it on the list, but I'm sure there are better lentil recipes out there. I'm looking forward to finding them because this is seriously enough soup for the whole week and the ingredients probably cost a total of $8 (all organic, even).
(BTW - it tastes SO much better than it looks...)
Friday, January 13, 2012
I'm Pretty Much a Bad-Ass
Although I don't have photographic evidence, I attended my first Bridal Fair last weekend in an effort to start cranking off some of this wedding planning. Now in addition to having selected our venue, we've selected our caterer, linens, silver, china/glassware, and centerpieces. We've also discovered some rad discounts through my workplace, so in addition to being beautiful, our wedding shouldn't break the bank (that is, it shouldn't come anywhere CLOSE to the $20,000 - $30,000 currently spent on most weddings). I was glad to be one of only a few brides-to-be who was accompanied to the show by my fiance.
Onto my reason for writing this post. I knocked something off my list: Active lunch. Yeah, it was only one, but I had been fearing it for a long time: The 2-mile trail behind my workplace.
It looks terrifying, right? Many employees walk or run during lunch. I had never been on it and feared the following: Seeing co-workers and feeling obligated to chat, seeing co-workers and sweating like a hog, getting lost my first time and being really late back to my office, not having adequate time to change back into business clothes, not having time at my desk to eat anything substantial, etc., etc. It turns out that the trail is BEAUTIFUL, I didn't see anyone I knew, and I had time for lunch after running it. Also, I've signed up for a yoga class offered by my workplace that runs over lunch. I figure that with that on the schedule I'll be sure to have at least one active lunch, and with my new-found love of this trail, maybe even two!!
This was a good first item to pick. Quick to tackle and I'm feeling good about the rest of the list. My workplace is offering a financial planning class free to employees next week, and I've got myself scheduled for it. I'm going to crank out a good portion of this list while I'm still in my 20's. So yeah, I'm pretty much a bad-ass.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Turning 30
This month I turn 30. Three of my greatest friends plan to come to town to help me celebrate, and I'm pretty stinking excited about it. I have wanted to be over 30 since I was about 15. I viewed it as this age at which point I would magically overcome my childhood insecurities, no longer develop pimples, and be revered by children and adults alike as a genuine adult. So basically, I believed (and still, do, to some extent) that I would be more confident and better looking. In my defense, historically BOTH of these things have tended to be true for all women in my family. Like fine wine, we age well. Thank God for great genes.
Last year I wrote a blog in which I indicated a plan to post a list of things I hoped to do before turning 30. This never happened. If I had to identify one reason (more than laziness...) it would simply be: Fear.
I feared writing a list and not accomplishing everything on it. As someone who hates to let myself down, I decided that I would rather not write a list and feel like I had come out ahead. Needless to say, I don't feel that I've come out ahead. Although I accomplished many things on the "list" despite never writing it, I feel that fear won out. I like this quote that I found recently: "The men who try to do something and fail are infinitely better than those who try to do nothing and succeed --Lloyd Jones" (...I don't like the weighting of humans as better or worse, but I like the message...)
So in addition to being better looking and more confident, I am counting on using turning 30 as a milestone for conquering, or at least--better managing--fear. As someone who has always adored quotes and poems, I've chosen the following to serve as my guiding light:
I know that I won't be able to obliterate fear. But some of the MOST rewarding things that I've done in my life have been the things I've feared the most. Also, I've seen in clients, friends, and family, the consequences of avoiding anything that scares them. In sum, I would describe the major consequence as a life unlived.
So here is my list. I will likely blog about these things throughout the year (as well as the reasons they scare me--there are reasons for each of them). I make no promises to hit them all, because honestly, I have a full-time job and like to use this blog for whatever the hell I want. But here is the list:
Take a financial planning class
Run an 8k
Take a class through parks and rec
Take a class through the community college
Go to a cooking class
Try acupuncture
Get glasses
Lose 10 lbs
Fly to Georgia
Start snowboarding again
Befriend "N-RAD"
Get a part-time assessment gig lined up
Publish the dissertation
Finance a car
Purchase a wedding dress
Put money down on a wedding venue
Join a book club
Go hiking with total strangers
See a live concert (The Frames? Pink Martini?)
Aim for 1 active lunch per week
What do I hope to get out of this, aside from the obvious? Well, more confidence. And honestly, just NOT letting fear get the best of me will be pretty dang rewarding.
In other news, I totally hope that I get a cake, or a cupcake, or at least a balloon with the number "30" in huge print. I still get carded all the time and people on campus constantly mistake me for a student on casual Friday, so I have ZERO insecurities around this number. Bring it, 30!!
Last year I wrote a blog in which I indicated a plan to post a list of things I hoped to do before turning 30. This never happened. If I had to identify one reason (more than laziness...) it would simply be: Fear.
I feared writing a list and not accomplishing everything on it. As someone who hates to let myself down, I decided that I would rather not write a list and feel like I had come out ahead. Needless to say, I don't feel that I've come out ahead. Although I accomplished many things on the "list" despite never writing it, I feel that fear won out. I like this quote that I found recently: "The men who try to do something and fail are infinitely better than those who try to do nothing and succeed --Lloyd Jones" (...I don't like the weighting of humans as better or worse, but I like the message...)
So in addition to being better looking and more confident, I am counting on using turning 30 as a milestone for conquering, or at least--better managing--fear. As someone who has always adored quotes and poems, I've chosen the following to serve as my guiding light:
I know that I won't be able to obliterate fear. But some of the MOST rewarding things that I've done in my life have been the things I've feared the most. Also, I've seen in clients, friends, and family, the consequences of avoiding anything that scares them. In sum, I would describe the major consequence as a life unlived.
So here is my list. I will likely blog about these things throughout the year (as well as the reasons they scare me--there are reasons for each of them). I make no promises to hit them all, because honestly, I have a full-time job and like to use this blog for whatever the hell I want. But here is the list:
Take a financial planning class
Run an 8k
Take a class through parks and rec
Take a class through the community college
Go to a cooking class
Try acupuncture
Get glasses
Lose 10 lbs
Fly to Georgia
Start snowboarding again
Befriend "N-RAD"
Get a part-time assessment gig lined up
Publish the dissertation
Finance a car
Purchase a wedding dress
Put money down on a wedding venue
Join a book club
Go hiking with total strangers
See a live concert (The Frames? Pink Martini?)
Aim for 1 active lunch per week
What do I hope to get out of this, aside from the obvious? Well, more confidence. And honestly, just NOT letting fear get the best of me will be pretty dang rewarding.
In other news, I totally hope that I get a cake, or a cupcake, or at least a balloon with the number "30" in huge print. I still get carded all the time and people on campus constantly mistake me for a student on casual Friday, so I have ZERO insecurities around this number. Bring it, 30!!
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Hats from San Francisco in the 40's...
My favorite: A flirty little number for Fall... (tag reads "Austelle Fashion")
Close runner up for my personal favorites, the tag reads: "designed Monte Rey in california"
The most extravagant, but no tag to be found:
The most surprising number of the bunch (to me). A sexy, mysterious hat. Tag reads: "City of Paris. Paris - New York - San Francisco."
The most demure hat of the bunch, this hat is also missing a tag:
*sigh* Sadly, Purchased later in her life, this one is faux fur and made in China. But it was fun to imagine that it, too, was a SF original...
And finally, as a shout out to my Grandpa:
...I hope that his military hats aren't thrown away. The family planned on discarding his WW2 uniforms, but my father salvaged them.
Close runner up for my personal favorites, the tag reads: "designed Monte Rey in california"
The most extravagant, but no tag to be found:
The most surprising number of the bunch (to me). A sexy, mysterious hat. Tag reads: "City of Paris. Paris - New York - San Francisco."
The most demure hat of the bunch, this hat is also missing a tag:
*sigh* Sadly, Purchased later in her life, this one is faux fur and made in China. But it was fun to imagine that it, too, was a SF original...
And finally, as a shout out to my Grandpa:
...I hope that his military hats aren't thrown away. The family planned on discarding his WW2 uniforms, but my father salvaged them.
A Funeral & Some Blessings
My fiance and I went to MT for Christmas (fabulous, stayed with my best friend from college) and returned so that I could work--all alone in the center--for the week after Christmas. That week sucked both because (1) nobody else was there, and despite the mountain of administrative work that I had to do I felt bored and lonely without human contact, and (2) I knew that I would have to turn around and drive back to MT for a funeral immediately after the New Year.
I tried not to think of that, instead powering through (okay, trudging through) my work and looking forward to the weekend of New Year's. Some friends came to town to visit & ring in the New Year, and we invited one of the psychologists to join us for libations. The next day we all got up, grabbed coffee, and were out of the house by noon. And just like that I was on my way back to Montana.
The funeral was for my paternal Grandmother. I call her "Betty" following a defining incident that occurred during my childhood. Because I'm still processing all of this, I'll tell it here.
I had gone to visit my grandparents on a trip with only my Dad. I couldn't have been older than 7 or 8. These were rare trips and I can't recall why my mom didn't come along, but what I do recall is that I went to the pool on a hot summer day without sunscreen. I came back to the house with the worst sunburn of my life. It would later morph into blisters that stood over 1 inch off my shoulders. Adults would look at me and grimace. Shirts would hurt, and I would spend time wishing I could be naked but fearing the sun that had done this to my skin.
By the time I felt the pain, it was too late. I walked back to my grandparent's home (literally, across the street in this tiny town) and was greeted with shock. The next thing to happen would confirm a suspicion that I had throughout my childhood: That my grandma didn't have a lot of love in her heart, and certainly not for me.
She looked at me, sadly looked at her aloe plant, and plucked off a leaf to rub over my tender skin. In that moment, I recall thinking that my grandmother loved her aloe plant more than she loved me. Not much changed throughout the remainder of my life. She did write me a letter while I was in college, telling me that she loved me and was proud of me. I held it for an hour and cried; wishing I could have FELT this at some point in my life, instead of reading it. I still have the letter.
By the time of my grandmother's funeral, she had been dead for 20 days. Despite this, the casket was opened for viewing. It wasn't as shocking as you might expect. I stood by her casket and silently wept. I didn't weep for myself, or even for her death. I wept for her life. I wept because I know the incredible depth of love and human connection, and it broke my heart that she pushed so many people out of her life that I doubt she ever really felt this. I wept because in addition to having few (any?) close relationships, she had no vocation. I wept because I see her life as one devoid of meaning. The greatest thing she created in her life, in my view, was my father. For this I'm thankful.
On to the blessings.
(1) On my way to Montana, I had turned off my brights and was driving over a mountain pass when I heard a voice--clear as day--in my head, "...turn on your brights." I did so just in time for the beam to hit the deer in front of me. The brakes squealed, my car stayed on course, and I missed the deer by inches. I had a feeling deep inside my soul that it was Betty who said the words. My first thought was, "I can't imagine why she would want to do anything nice for me."
(2) Upon arriving in Montana, my maternal Grandmother approached me and said, "You know, I was thinking. This funeral will probably be pretty hard on you, and the car ride is long. Would you like some company?" And just like that: She joined me and provided the love and support that I have been blessed with throughout my life. I always tell people that I've felt I only have 1 grandmother, but that she is so wonderful that I wouldn't need more than that. She stood by me as I wept at Betty's casket, and she handed me a fresh handkerchief when the tears kept coming--seemingly inexplicably--throughout the funeral. She told me stories of her emotional reactions to death throughout her lifetime, and we talked about how sad it was that Betty died alone.
(3) I learned some things about Betty via a box that would've likely been thrown away, but was instead given to me. It contained fabulous hats that she bought in San Francisco in the 40's; when my Grandfather was stationed there as MP. I took tons of photos of them ON (they are ADORABLE), but they all ended up upside-down and I'm too impatient to fix it tonight. So 1 photo must suffice. I'll post the rest another day.
The hats served as a reminder that everyone is young and beautiful and full of dreams (was she full of dreams...?) at some point in life. If she could pull off these hats, she must have had some spunk to her. All that I can hold of that is these hats. I'll take it. Somehow they softened my heart toward her. I liked her style. It's a small connection, but a connection nonetheless. A hatbox made me feel closer to Betty than I'd ever felt in my life.
I will live my life differently.
I tried not to think of that, instead powering through (okay, trudging through) my work and looking forward to the weekend of New Year's. Some friends came to town to visit & ring in the New Year, and we invited one of the psychologists to join us for libations. The next day we all got up, grabbed coffee, and were out of the house by noon. And just like that I was on my way back to Montana.
The funeral was for my paternal Grandmother. I call her "Betty" following a defining incident that occurred during my childhood. Because I'm still processing all of this, I'll tell it here.
I had gone to visit my grandparents on a trip with only my Dad. I couldn't have been older than 7 or 8. These were rare trips and I can't recall why my mom didn't come along, but what I do recall is that I went to the pool on a hot summer day without sunscreen. I came back to the house with the worst sunburn of my life. It would later morph into blisters that stood over 1 inch off my shoulders. Adults would look at me and grimace. Shirts would hurt, and I would spend time wishing I could be naked but fearing the sun that had done this to my skin.
By the time I felt the pain, it was too late. I walked back to my grandparent's home (literally, across the street in this tiny town) and was greeted with shock. The next thing to happen would confirm a suspicion that I had throughout my childhood: That my grandma didn't have a lot of love in her heart, and certainly not for me.
She looked at me, sadly looked at her aloe plant, and plucked off a leaf to rub over my tender skin. In that moment, I recall thinking that my grandmother loved her aloe plant more than she loved me. Not much changed throughout the remainder of my life. She did write me a letter while I was in college, telling me that she loved me and was proud of me. I held it for an hour and cried; wishing I could have FELT this at some point in my life, instead of reading it. I still have the letter.
By the time of my grandmother's funeral, she had been dead for 20 days. Despite this, the casket was opened for viewing. It wasn't as shocking as you might expect. I stood by her casket and silently wept. I didn't weep for myself, or even for her death. I wept for her life. I wept because I know the incredible depth of love and human connection, and it broke my heart that she pushed so many people out of her life that I doubt she ever really felt this. I wept because in addition to having few (any?) close relationships, she had no vocation. I wept because I see her life as one devoid of meaning. The greatest thing she created in her life, in my view, was my father. For this I'm thankful.
On to the blessings.
(1) On my way to Montana, I had turned off my brights and was driving over a mountain pass when I heard a voice--clear as day--in my head, "...turn on your brights." I did so just in time for the beam to hit the deer in front of me. The brakes squealed, my car stayed on course, and I missed the deer by inches. I had a feeling deep inside my soul that it was Betty who said the words. My first thought was, "I can't imagine why she would want to do anything nice for me."
(2) Upon arriving in Montana, my maternal Grandmother approached me and said, "You know, I was thinking. This funeral will probably be pretty hard on you, and the car ride is long. Would you like some company?" And just like that: She joined me and provided the love and support that I have been blessed with throughout my life. I always tell people that I've felt I only have 1 grandmother, but that she is so wonderful that I wouldn't need more than that. She stood by me as I wept at Betty's casket, and she handed me a fresh handkerchief when the tears kept coming--seemingly inexplicably--throughout the funeral. She told me stories of her emotional reactions to death throughout her lifetime, and we talked about how sad it was that Betty died alone.
(3) I learned some things about Betty via a box that would've likely been thrown away, but was instead given to me. It contained fabulous hats that she bought in San Francisco in the 40's; when my Grandfather was stationed there as MP. I took tons of photos of them ON (they are ADORABLE), but they all ended up upside-down and I'm too impatient to fix it tonight. So 1 photo must suffice. I'll post the rest another day.
The hats served as a reminder that everyone is young and beautiful and full of dreams (was she full of dreams...?) at some point in life. If she could pull off these hats, she must have had some spunk to her. All that I can hold of that is these hats. I'll take it. Somehow they softened my heart toward her. I liked her style. It's a small connection, but a connection nonetheless. A hatbox made me feel closer to Betty than I'd ever felt in my life.
I will live my life differently.
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