Well, That's What I Get for Resolving to Be Happy

Oh, you know, FOUR days from my "I'm a Pollyanna" blog post, I got a swift kick in the ass. Or rather, a Frito Lay truck through the passenger side of my poor, poor Elantra. That's what I get, man.

I was minding my own damn business, driving to work. I stopped at a light. The light turned green. I went through the light, you know, LIKE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO, and was promptly T-boned by a Frito-Lay delivery truck. I'm not sure he even saw the light. He did, however, give me the kind courtesy (NOT) of honking his horn a mere split second before he smashed my poor vehicle to bits. It pushed me over a lane, but luckily no one was there to collide with.

It was right out of a movie. He honked, I looked right, his entire truck crashed into my car. My whole window was filled with a photo of the Frito-lay logo.

My car is totaled, and I'm sore. Really, really sore. Headaches, muscle aches. Bad enough to take some Vicodin and Flexeril. But, three days later, I am feeling like I'm heading toward healing. now it's just chiropractic/massage therapy for a while.

Yet, although I'm sad about losing my Tupperware Vehicle THREE PAYMENTS from owning it outright...

It could have been so much worse. I could have been seriously injured or killed. I could have had someone in the car with me. They would be hospitalized for sure. I could have hit someone else as a result.

I have a job, I have a source of income to make payments on a new car if I have to. I have health insurance. I have car insurance. I am surrounded by friends and family who are lawyers, doctors, and auto-body mechanics. I know they will do right by me. I was not hit by an uninsured driver, a drunk driver. I was hit by a deliveryman, who has the backing of a corporation. Hopefully they'll cut me a check, and this will all be over.

Until then, I have some major drugs to help me along, I have a few days to recover without pressure from my job, I have parents, siblings, and a husband who are helping me in all the ways they can.

So, really, it's as good as it can be without erasing what happened at 8:45 Thursday morning.

And maybe that still makes my 2010 pretty flippin' awesome.

PS It was national delurking day and I missed it, because I was busy getting smashed into. have some pity and delurk late, k? I could use the company on this-here couch.

For the next year

It's been really, really hard for me to put into words what I want to do in 2010. Not because I don't have ideas, but because I want to really be able to put those ideas into action. I want them to be lifestyle changes and life choices, both tangible and intangible. I want to be able to commit to them fully, and I want them to be reachable. I totally understand the need to make goals—things you reach for—but I don't want to feel like I fall short.

It's almost like last year was a hibernation. Trying to insulate myself from the outside world, hunkering down and battening down the hatches. Escaping so much of the negative that took place.

Overall, that strategy didn't work. Lesson learned. I still felt sad and defeated, frustrated and outraged, by so much that happened—and definitely not just personally. It was the national psychology of 2009, it seems, except, it seems, for those who married or gave birth. For those of us just living daily life, many of us limped along, momentarily buoyed by friends' or families' big days.

2010 does feel different already. Maybe last year was a time for introspection. A dormant period before buds burst into full bloom.

In 2010, I will...be happy.

Here are things that I think will get me there, and why:

Travel
I am a true Sagittarian. Although I feel comforted by routines and control, I crave new experiences, particularly when they involve meeting new people and seeing new places. I love learning about other cultures, customs, and habits. I love to be immersed in new information. It's what led me to study journalism and political science, it's part of what fuels my mostly outgoing nature.

I'm planning an incredible trip to one of my top five destinations of all time, Thailand. As you may already know, my best friend is living there, and I finally am in a place where I can afford to take a big trip, after two-years-plus of credit card debt payback, losing my job, getting married, weddings, babies, and finally opening a savings account. It's coming up fast, and trust me, there will be more blog posts about this in the near future.

But, depending on my finances, I want to make an effort to travel more. I want to see my other best friend on the East coast, Wm's two best friends on the East Coast, and who knows what, who, and where else. For Christmas, I got a GPS. I think it will be time for short road trips, too. Get out into the world, get out of my head. Get inspiration.

Appear in a national magazine and/or on a nationally read website
Yep. This has been a goal of mine for a while. Like, at least as long as I've had this blog, if not from the time I was about four. I've been working hard, and finding new freelance projects, but I need to plunge ahead. No more excuses, just straight up creating, thinking, writing, writing, editing, writing, querying. I CAN do this.

Bring the blog up a notch
Blog more, blog better. New design. More interaction between blogs. It's time.

Be more plan-minded
I was just commenting to my handsome husband that dinners have been better, better for us, and less stressful lately. I've been using my subscription to Martha Stewart's Everyday Food (thanks, Mom!) to plan a couple weeks' worth of dinners, and then following through. We have less to toss out, more leftovers for lunches, and overall, I think we feel good. None of that "I don't know, what do you want?" "Um, I dunno. What do you want?" and settling for snacking business.

Now I need to make that a habit (I do the grocery shopping; we split cooking and cleaning up) and make that a habit elsewhere in my life.

Attack to-do lists with gusto, follow through with them so that I can feel accomplished, not exhausted by procrastination.

Do small things throughout the week to clean up rather than having to spend half a Saturday to clean up. Even 10 to 15 minutes will make a difference.

Outcome: I will feel less stressed, which will allow me to concentrate on things that make me happy. I won't be worried about getting stuff done, so I can think about what I CAN do.

Make appearances at the Y several times a week
In-reach goal: Three times weekly.

Ideal goal: Five times weekly.

Two really good things happened to me in 2009: I started exercising, and I kept exercising.

You guys, it's changing my life. I can feel it. And I can't believe it. I am not athletic, I have always pretty much hated sports, I'd prefer to read a book and eat a pound of cheese while I'm at it. I am not the best in class, I don't rise to the top when it comes to weightlifting, I can't touch the floor in forward fold in yoga.

But I'm improving, each time I go. I sweat, my heart races, my face gets unnaturally red. But you know what? My body is changing shape. I have previously-unheard of levels of energy. Just the other morning I was in the bathroom getting ready for work, and unconsciously singing to myself. I overheard Wm say to Mo: "Who is that strange lady in the bathroom?" It's true. I get out of bed more easily (mornings still suck, don't worry; I am not a mere shadow of my former self yet), I have more energy to do things after work, I feel increasingly motivated and capable of accomplishments. I have less stomachaches, which makes me happy, and I get things done, which makes me happy.

The number on the scale is simply one measurement. I've maybe lost four pounds. But I look different, and most importantly, I FEEL different. This is just the beginning.

Commit to friends and family
I recently read something in Real Simple that struck me. It was the "Your Words" section, where readers respond to a question. This month's question, appropriately, was "What will you do differently this year?"

One woman answered that she would put her husband first. At first, feminist-Katie kneejerk-reaction was like "Uh..." But the rest of the quote really hit home. "We each work two jobs and have family, volunteer, and social commitments, so we're exhausted at the end of the day. he deserves the best of me—not what's left over after I'm done with everything else."

I feel like that applies to a lot of people in my life, not just my husband. My parents, my siblings, my nearest and dearest. I don't want any of them to get what's "left over." Everyday life can be hard: we're all busy, stressful, overloaded. But friends and family—they should get the best of me. Especially my husband and my dog.

This is an area for huge improvement for me. I feel most vital when I make connections with my loved ones (and meet new people who could become dear friends). It's time to be mindful of that, not just skate through every day, hoping to be a good person.

Live small, in order to live large
In the last year or two, I've really realized that living small might be the key to feeling truly enriched. That requires forethought and commitment, two things I was never that big on up until now. I just thought that naturally happened. Wakeup call: It Doesn't.

I don't want to be a flaky friend or ditzy colleague. I don't want to find myself saying any of the words "could've, should've, would've." I want to say "will, can, did." I want to have the resources I need—emotionally, physically, financially—to make the best of every situation.

It means saying no once in a while (or a lot). It means planning ahead. It means committing to make time for those emotional, physical, and financial investments. It means not wanting so much. It means being grateful for what I have, instead of always wishing it was different. It means checking myself when I start to tilt too far to one side.

I can feel this nearly seismic change in my life already. I know that I have the tools I need to at least get started. I can learn a lot this year. I can change a lot this year. I can love a lot this year. I can be the person I want to be, when I want to be it.

I am capable.

I am happy. And I will do the things I can control to keep me there. The rest will happen, and I will meet it head-on. It's the new, improved me.

The New Year

The New Year has started out with a bang. Things are good. As we might recall, 2009 did not start well for me, and like most of the national psychology in 2009, I thought the year sucked royally. I was glad to kick the Naughties out the door. Begone, Naughties!

I'm still working on my goals, even though it's January 7, which is why you haven't seen a post for a few days. But it's been busy and good.

But I will say this: I'm ready for 2010. I'm ready for it to rock.

I'm ready for good things: travel, kindness, financial stability (maybe finally!), healthy body image, joy in small things, love, bouncing back.

I'm in such a different space these days. Despite a headache and getting yelled at today by a random driver and freezing temps that make me want to take up permanent residence under a fur blanket on my couch, it's a good space.

Bring it.

I Tried It: Bikram Yoga

Armed with some bravado and two friends, I attempted Bikram yoga last night.

(Psst: That's also known as hot yoga, usually a 90-minute practice in a room heated to 105 degrees.)

I think our class was a beginner class, so it was heated to 90 degrees and it was an hour-long practice of Vinyasa yoga. (Psst: Vinyasa yoga is more about flowing between poses rather than practicing them separately. Think: sun salutes and such.)

There is a yoga studio offering a free week of classes in a yuppie neighborhood in St. Paul (lovely, but definitively yuppie). I was a little reluctant to leave my "You can do it!" atmosphere at the Y for something I knew would be a little more serious and competitive. And laced with teeny-tiny girls with amazing flexibility and balance. But, I thought, life is short, say yes to adventures (especially with friends), do one thing every day that scares you, and I've been doing yoga for a year now, so it's time to put it to the test.

I was right about the atmosphere. One friend noted that she felt like she was in the middle of a clique and didn't fit in. That's why you do these things with friends, if you can. ;) The class was packed, and there wasn't enough room to fully feel like you had enough space. Like, I could reach out and touch my neighbor, who didn't know me, and most definitely would not appreciate my sweaty limb on hers.

My other deal was the instructor. She was nice, and maybe even helpful, but she was way too cheerleadery for my taste. Not that it has to be super hippy-dippy chakra examination talk, but it was hard to stay in the zone when she was saying, "Noooow, iiiiiinhale! EEEEeeeeexhale!" as though she was at a pep rally. And she sounded a little scripted. But I did like that she kept the focus on moving forward, letting go, and realizing you aren't always going to do everything perfectly. I need that reminder, often.

The gym was nicely appointed, and there were many drool-worthy items from Lululemon and other swank gym accessories/clothing companies in the shop area. The locker room was like a spa.

The hot yoga room itself wasn't as suffocating/saunalike as I expected it would be. Although my heart was racing like two sun salutes in, I assume in response to the heated room. The lighting was nice and dim, there was ample mirror space, and I liked the music they played (if it was a little loud).

About halfway in, I was really, really sweating. As in, dripping on my mat. I didn't mind the sweat (that's part of the point) as much as it was physically problematic for my mat and my hands and feet staying in place. I had a hot yoga towel, but it didn't have the little skid bumps underneath, like the fancy ones the sell in the lobby. I would not suggest the Gaiam quick-dry towels they sell for this purpose at Target, if you're worried about your footing at all. It just slides around too much on the mat. But it DOES have great sweat-vacuum properties and though it's yoga-mat shaped, could be good for gymming overall.

There were a couple of poses I just couldn't quite get through—probably because I haven't been hitting the gym as much lately. BUT, I felt a noticeable difference in my flexibility. Like, I TOUCHED THE FLOOR last night in a forward fold, people. I've only done that one other time in all my yoga history and I swear it was a fluke, or that I dreamed it. I TOUCHED THE FLOOR! (Cue Rocky theme here.)

I also—and this doesn't quite make sense to me logically—felt more balanced during the tree pose and other balance poses. Maybe just because my muscles thought they were hanging out on the beaches of Hawaii instead of a cold gym in the middle of winter. As a total freezebaby, I loved the heat.

Overall though? A nice free hour of yoga. An escape from the icy clutches of winter. An hour of sweat and exercise. Time with two friends who I don't get to see nearly often enough. And the realization that I CAN keep up (mostly) with fancier places. I CAN do this.

Namaste, bitches!

It'll Be OK...Just Dance

OK, OK, I know that this is KIND OF a no-shitter, pardon my French, but wow. Exercising regularly really DOES make me feel better.

Here's how I know.

So, when I had that cold, I really didn't think I had the lung power to make it through an hour-long cardio class (not to mention the visions of snot flying out of my nose. Sorry. I've been talking about snot a lot lately.)

Then, I was on vacation, but between snuggling babies and my dog, and my birthday, I just didn't seem to find time to go to the gym. Then I was getting back into work mode ... Basically, I allowed daily life to get in the way of taking care of me.

So for the last four or so days, I've had wicked stomachaches around the 2-3 p.m. hour. I think this is a function of two things:
1. Sitting at a desk all damn day. After lunch I maybe need to move around more.
2. I hadn't exercised in like...ashamedly....10 days. 12 days even.

Yesterday, I felt terribly around my witching hour at work. I got permission to leave a little early. Walking out to my car helped (but that doesn't always do the trick). Still, I was all like, DUDE, I'm still going to the gym. By the time my power yoga/pilates/tai chi class was over, I felt amazing.

Today, I'm sore (and I definitely slid backwards in my two weeks off, so class felt really hard), but I still went to zumba class to stretch out and warm up rather than continue to let my muscles seize. No stomachache today. I feel really, really good. Yay for endorphins!

Back on track.

Current Obsessions II

Here are three things that I can't stop talking about.

1. The power of the Neti pot.
Look, people. Have you never used a Neti pot? Do you know what one is? Do you think it's a bunch of hooey?

I am here to tell you as a former Neti pot skeptic, that that shit WORKS.

In case you aren't sure what a Neti pot is, view Exhibit A:

That's not drugs, people, that's the power of the H2 and the O. And a little NaCl. See! I did learn something in chemistry class after all! (Side note, in my chemistry class we had to make a periodic table of the elements of ______. I chose Rock and Roll for mine. My mom helped me. We had so much fun! Elvis was Hydrogen and the Beatles were ... whatever matches up with Hydrogen on the other side of the table. It followed all the rules of the Periodic Table. I'm still proud of it. I wish I had kept it. Also, my mom's and my knowledge? Formidable. Anyway.)

So you put a little warm saltwater in the pot. And pour it through your nose. If you tilt your head properly, you don't choke or gag on it. It's amazing. It's not even gross. I swear. It just totally irrigates your nose! Clears you right out! AND, a big thing for me is that it doesn't dry me out, but instead moisturizes! I already have dry skin, live in a superdry forced-air situation in the winter, and have side effects from my stomach medicine that dry out my skin. Taking cold medicine really, really sucks the life out of me.

YES!!! A non-chemical cure. I swear it lessened the mouth-breathing suffering and general malaise by a few days. I'm not exaggerating.

2. The power of grapefruit seed extract.
Dudes. This is also a new one to me. When I announced on facebook that I had a cold (because I'm sure my friends care and want to know), my brother's girlfriend shared a secret remedy. Yep. Grapefruit seed extract. Stuff's not cheap. I think it was $13.99 for a small bottle. But all you need is like ... half a teaspoon to a teaspoon, dissolved in a LARGE glass of water.

It tastes a little bitter/sour and weird. But it's worth it. It's not overpoweringly gross and I'm telling you. I had a cold for like FOUR days. Usually it's at least a week to two weeks. And the symptoms started magically dissipating almost immediately after drinking it. Highly recommended.

3. LOST.
Ohmahgah people. LOST. Wm and I are halfway through the second season—don't spoil anything—and I cannot believe that I never watched this show.

Although it does NOTHING for my flight anxiety or the fact that I will be flying to tropical locales sometime in the vaguely near future ... order me up one extra Xanax, sir!

Such a great storyline, cool storytelling and effects, it reminds me of my love of Hawaii, and there are just so many smart, good things about it. I can't believe it was on network TV, actually. It's sort of been ruining my gym habit the last two weeks.

OK, you'll have to excuse me now. I have to go watch Sayyid. I mean, LOST.

Thank you for Being a Friend

This weekend, William and I met Dorothy and Don, Mae and Liz, a priest (who blessed us), and touched a baseball that Yogi Berra and Whitey Ford signed.

We talked about institutional food, military medals, 100-year-old photos of long-gone, distant relatives, practiced our two-phrase Polish vocabulary, were vigorously hugged and kissed, and ate dinner at 4:30 and got ready for breakfast at 8 sharp. We were stared at, reached out to, and thanked. We were asked to speak up and step closer. A lot.

Above all, we were thanked.

I guess that's not what I expected.

William's grandparents recently moved into an independent senior living complex in South Dakota, not too terribly far from their last home, and the home before that, a sprawling farm. Life has changed a lot for them since the farming days they know and love. It's hard accepting that you don't or can't do the work that you're used to. It's hard to wonder what you do next with your time and feeling like you have limited options.

There are a lot of people in their building who feel that way. Some were nuns, and helped the sick. Some were farmers. Some have kids spread across the country. Some served in WWII and can now talk about their days overseas, while they couldn't as young men. One man told me: "My daughters, they married lawyers. They have money that I could never imagine, while we hang on to whatever we got as hard as we can," clutching his fists in the air for emphasis. He sat close to me, nearly touching my face, because about two years ago, he began rapidly losing his sight. He told us about his medals, but only after we described what they looked like and what they said. THAT he remembered.

Then there was Liz. Liz was a nun who left the convent when her mother was dying. The nuns wouldn't let her leave, so she quit. She was lucky enough to meet the famed Yankees players Whitey Ford and Yogi Berra while working as a nurse in Rochester, Minnesota, with the photo and baseball to prove it. "You can kiss it," she told us, "if you want to." Then she laughed and took us on a tour of her favorite artwork, interrupting herself only long enough to take us to a friends' apartment upstairs, who made lots of beautiful things herself. She was about to get in the shower, but she put her "housecoat" on, and received us like we were old family.

We shook hands with strangers in the chapel, strangers who thanked us later for coming to shake their hands. We heard life stories, life sorrows. But always at the end, "But now you're here. And you just made my day." Or, "I'm so glad you are here. I feel like I know you already."

If you think you can't make a difference without spending a lot of money—If you think you can't do it without spending a lot of time—If you just don't ever get around to it, but you think you want to.

There are lots of seniors out there, who have memories to share and lives not yet fully lived (and they're fascinating). And they love young people, even if they're crotchety or don't see or walk so well. And if you just make eye contact, you have a new friend. A new friend dying to show you a cookie recipe or a ceramic pot or photos of their kids. A new friend who wants to know all about you and your life. A friend who needs a hug and a kiss, and maybe a "peace be with you."

William and I are lucky to have grandparents that are well and with it, even in their eighties and nineties. It's a treasure trove of stories, lessons learned, love, and kindness. And good recipes and laughs and chats about politics or what life was like, or how crazy life is now, or how good communities are built. (Watch a 92-year-old man talk about, and proficiently work, a cell phone. It's a trip.) Old men flirt better than anyone in the world. Grandmas just want to be that—grandmas.

But not all of these people have that. And they're starving for it—whatever it is that you have to offer. Not money, not gifts. Just your conversation and attention. And maybe you'd make a good friend. By just being you, by just being there, by just showing you're interested, you've made a friend for life. And you've made someone's day—someone who maybe feels like they don't have much purpose anymore.

It's a win-win. Because you'll walk away feeling like you have a purpose too, one that isn't an obligatory get-through-the-day, pay-the-bills one. A really important one, even if it's just a genuine five minutes of your time.

meetups

Lots happening today. Started the day out with gym time with Big Sister and Big Sister's friend--a half-hour Zumba Express class and then an hour-long Flow class. Feeling good. Cleaning our place. Party-food prep.

Reunion with some of my favorite people in the world tonight. Must run.

Thankful For

...As much sun as you can ask for in a Minnesota November
...Future trips
...Molly snuggling on my lap
...Being in love
...A lovely day with my family, eating good food and lounging around
...Streaming Netflix
...Email when my best friend is halfway 'round the world
...Having my first cheesecake turn out OK
...Nike Fit Yoga pants
...Paying off debt
...Staying optimistic
...Loving the YMCA
...Christmas cactus blooms
...French Roast coffee from Trader Joe's
...A low-maintenance car (knock on wood)
...A really, truly good life.
.....and all those blogger buddies out there.

Happy Thanksgiving. I'm off to enjoy more family time.

Little Gratefuls

1. I got to leave work early today.
2. My boss picked up the lunch tab.
3. No technological mishaps.
4. Easy trip to Target, and I only spent $50! Some kind of miracle.
5. It's getting crappy outside--cold and rainy, but my house is nice and toasty.
6. I'm baking my first cheesecake. No major mishaps. Yet.
7. My Yeah Yeah Yeahs + many other bands channel on Pandora radio.
8. The Netflix William got for his birthday--we both benefit! We've been streaming movies like mad.
9. My sweet Molly looking at the KitchenAid Mixer, cocked head indicating a total befuddlement with the noise.
10. Tomorrow I'll be with the people I love most in the world. Lots of good food, good conversation, and love.

Weighty Issues

Today, I took my first weightlifting class. Yep.

I think tomorrow is going to hurt really, really, really, really badly. And I have a yoga/pilates class in the morning. Greeeeat.

But seriously though, despite the pain, I'm feeling good. As in, Really Good. I haven't had a stomachache in DAYS. DAYS! And I think that maybe I'm feeling my energy level picking up a little, which Jesus God Hallelujah! Because I don't have a lot of energy typically.

I also have found myself feeling absolutely STARVING the last couple days. That has got to mean that I'm burning up the calories, but nothing has changed outwardly. I feel like I'm off to a really good start.

Otherwise, today has been a typical Saturday. Dog to the groomer, errands, cleaning, laundry. But it feels good to be productive and done.

On tap tonight: takeout and friend time at home.

Happy day.

Happy Birthday, Baby

Today is my husband's twenty-ninth birthday.




You're a classic, honey.

I love you always and forever.

Let's Get Literary

It's the month of Thanksigving, and one thing I'm thankful for is that I learned to read. And that I had parents, teachers, and friends and family who encouraged me to follow my dreams to be a writer and reader. It's something I love to talk about and share with other people, too.

One of my simple pleasures is the smell of books—old, new, whatever. Mmmmm.

I don't detail all my reads like my friend A. does on her blog, Bookish Bent, but I do try to read a book a week (or so). It's hard, but I know it's one of those things that if you don't carve out the time to do it, it's easy to push it onto the back burner. And I believe books and words are important and I'll support the industry until the day I die. (And, hopefully, one day, contribute to it.) Reading simultaneously fuels my passion for writing and reading, and soothes me. I usually read right before bed.

The last book I read was The Forever War, by Dexter Filkins. It's reportage from an embedded reporter (he works for the New York Times and has won a Pulitzer Prize). It's about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and it rips your heart out and stomps all over it. The man has balls of steel, I will say that. He narrowly escapes death a few times; some of his compatriots don't. Tears came to eyes a few times, but more than a crying-sadness, it's the hollowed-out kind of sadness, a depressed, how-can-this-ever-be-fixed sadness. The book is a series of essays of experiences there, not unlike Michael Herr's groundbreaking Dispatches, or Tim O'Brien's incredible fictional account, The Things They Carried. (Many feel that this book was based on his own experiences, and from what I understand, many feel it's accurate about war, even if the accounts themselves did not happen.) Highly recommended for insight into the war on terror, the psyche of some cultures, and what is really happening behind the headlines.

Tonight I'm moving onto something a little lighter. I had the realization recently that I tend to read dark, depressing books, most of them nonfiction. I think I need something a little on the lighter side, but without being stupid or vapid. Tonight, I'm going to start reading The Know It All, by A.J. Jacobs, kindly loaned to me from A.

I'm also on Goodreads. Are you? Are we friends? Want to be?

Choosing my favorite books or authors is a nearly impossible task, but I have a few that stand out. And um, no links here, but let me know if you need more information.

I love Susan Orlean, Joan Didion, Margaret Atwood, Random Family by Adrienne Nicole LeBlanc (in my mind, one of the most important books about race and class ever written), The Translator, Push, The Color Purple, Crime and Punishment, Stolen Lives, Mountains Beyond Mountains (Tracy Kidder), All the President's Men (sigh, the first amendment), The Orchid Thief, We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families, China Wakes, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Where the Red Fern Grows, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Under the Banner of Heaven, Cash by Johnny Cash, What is the What... I could go on and on and on and on.....

What are your favorite books/authors? Why? I'd love some recommendations and book talk around here.

Goodies

Good things for today:

1. Cute outfit day.
2. In re: cute outfit day, I splurged and bought a little bit more expensive tights at Target. I figured it'd be a gamble. It paid off! They are super thick and opaque, and kept me warm in a minidress. Well worth the extra couple bucks.
3. New Vanity Fair arrived with Robert Pattinson on the cover. Sigh.
4. Good songs on the radio. Songs I'm currently loving:

• Buster Voodoo, Rodrigo y Gabriela
• Sugarfoot, Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears
• Drain the Blood, Rural Alberta Advantage
• Baby, Devendra Banhart
• Soft Shock, Yeah Yeah Yeahs
• I'll Fight, Wilco
• Horchata, Vampire Weekend
• Lizstomania, Phoenix
• Heavy Cross, The Gossip

5. Yummy dinner: meatloaf, sweet potato fries, broccoli
6. Zumba class!
7. Reorders from the shops William is in.

I will love you forever.

It's not often that you get to meet your childhood-friend's children. Think about it. A lot of times, people don't stay friends that long. From my own pink-corduroy, pigtailed days with Pamcakes to now, when I meet her at her house and meet her beautiful, thriving twins after a long, complications-frought pregnancy and delivery. Post ICU, post-hospital, and now, we are officially post-childhood. She has two absolutely perfect babies of her own.

I'm still in shock even though I've had more than 9 months of knowing this would happen, and was there at the hospital to witness it myself.

One of my oldest, bestest friends in the world has two baby girls. And although we are not related through blood, I love them with the intensity of an auntie. Their mom and I are like chosen sisters, rather than blood relatives. I love them thoroughly and completely, even if I just met them for the first time today, nearly three weeks after their birth. (Hey, that's not bad considering the circumstances.) Trust me, it killed me to wait those nearly 21 days to hold them in my arms and to inhale their baby scent and touch their tiny fingers and feet, and kiss their sweet cheeks.

Today I held a baby that shouldn't have even been born yet, not for at least two more weeks, this little negative-aged being. And they are both so, so, so tiny, their heads fitting neatly into the palm of my hand, their body fitting the space between my wrist and my elbow. They are petite, but they are fighters. Like their mom.

One of my nearest and dearest friends is a mom. We are no longer playing hide-and-seek, swimming at the public pool, throwing parties at our college apartment, or meeting for lunch on break from our first real jobs. She is a mother.

I will love you babies, forever and ever. You can always call me Auntie Katie. And I will always be there for you. Always. For every reason. You can call me late at night, ask me the embarrassing questions, and I will always bring you frivolous gifts, and I will always tell you the truth. I will let you chew the flavor of bubble gum that your mom hates the smell of, I will take you shopping and to the movies, and buy you treats you're not supposed to have, and I'll always, always, always love you. Always.

Spitty Rain

Oh, November. There YOU are! It was dark and raining that kind of misty/spitty rain all day. My lunchtime walk not quite as pleasant.

But tonight, I had tasty Chipotle and wine with my husband and then we're watching movies, all snuggled up against the November nastiness.

Tomorrow, I finally get to see the babies that were born nearly three weeks ago--the closest thing I'll have to nieces outside my blood relative nieces. My heart is already overflowing with joy.

But now, my couch, yoga pants, gorgeous husband, and snuggle dog are awaiting me.

Feeling St. Paul

Blackberry mojito, guacamole, jicama salad.

Long talk about a love of writing.

Giggles.
A hope that seems reachable.

A brisk walk home amid trees dressed with white twinkle lights, only a slight chill in the air, unseasonably warm in November.

Everything is still and quiet, even downtown, like I have it all to myself. Like it's all mine.

Simple Goodness

Today has been like the third or fourth day that it's been in the 60-degree range, and man, I'm taking it in. It won't last much longer--it's unseasonable now, anyway. It might be dark at 5 p.m., but it's warm.

And that makes me really happy.

Also, I finally get to meet my quasi-nieces this week. And I could not be more thrilled.

Also, I added a little Greatest Hits Collection of some past posts. Maybe more to come? People, going through my old posts, I need to step up the game. Word.

Thriller

OK, it has been well documented here how much I love Michael Jackson. And I love marching bands. Geeky, but oh-so-true.

So this is really especially awesome for me, especially considering that it's my alma mater:

We're Gonna Win Twins

My god, what a baseball game.

I have a rocky relationship with sports. Most of them I don't like. I'm not good at sports. I hate most athletes.

But I have always loved the Twins. Tonight they proved exactly why. What a nailbiter of a game. So clutch.

Now David faces Goliath in NYC tomorrow.

Our little underdogs. Happy sigh.