Resolutions.

Ok, confession: I hate New Year’s Eve. I would really prefer if we could just fast forward through December 31^st every year (if this is your birthday, I apologize, but can we just have cake on January 1^st?) I think the only reason that I ever end up out on New Year’s Eve instead of spending the night at home watching movies in my PJs is that society dictates that I deck myself out in glitter and drink too much champagne – given that sparkles and bubbly happen to occupy the top of my favorites list at any time of year, I have usually been happy to oblige.

And so, I find myself every NYE (I hate that abbreviation too, by the way) counting down the seconds until midnight, toasting with whoever I happen to be celebrating with, and then coming down with the sudden realization that I feel absolutely not different at 12:01 on January 1^st than I felt at 11:59 December 31^st. There is so much stigma surrounding the New Year – it’s as if popular culture wants us to believe that every turn of the calendar year, we are reborn into the person we have always wished to be. That somehow, the minute and hour hand aligning on the clock transforms us into gym addicted, healthy eating people who call our friends and parents more.

But guess what? That isn’t how it works. Every January, we switch our mindsets from overindulging to abstaining, from sitting on the couch to signing up for yoga classes, from stocking our pantries with chips & snacks to dried fruit and granola bars. And how often do these so called “New Year’s Resolutions” stick? Well friends, there is a reason that more treadmills are occupied the first week of January than the end of March – they don’t.

They don’t, anyway, for people who place all the emphasis on the fact that this is something they are changing for the New Year, the blank slate, the renewed opportunity to reach goals previously not met. Once people realize that, as with anything worth attaining, the milestones they have set for themselves are “hard” (go figure) many “fall off the wagon” and regress into their couch potato, junk food eating former selves. So this is my question: Why do things need to be designated as “Resolutions for the New Year” when it is so much more fulfilling to change them into “Resolutions for the New You”?

I don’t like the fact that there is a time of year roped off to think about and act on how to better ourselves. Why should this only be the focus one time of year? You want to read more books? Do it. Want to teach yoga? Start training. Don’t wait for a societal cue to set your personal  goals in motion. In my opinion, goals made specifically for you, by you and BECAUSE of you are the ones you will most passionately pursue – and the ones that will stick once everyone else decides it’s not worth it. Goals, in their basic state, are organic, real and raw – I feel like they lose some of their natural luster when set in the name of a trend.

If you only think about bettering yourself as December comes to a close, you are not realizing your full potential. Human beings are masterpieces in constant work throughout their entire life, and, due to human nature, are rarely 100% satisfied with their current state. This New Year’s Eve, I strongly encourage you to take a step back and look at your life with an objective lens – if you don’t set foot in a gym until February, that isn’t grounds for giving up. Just change your perspective from “New Year’s Resolution to work out more in 2012” to “get healthier for life”. No time stamp, no label. You will feel less defeated, more motivated, and your chances of achieving your end goal will skyrocket. You will feel inspired.

If I had my way, I would be spending December 31^st on a beach next to a bonfire, wearing an old crewneck sweatshirt, flip flops, wrapped in blankets and drinking beers (gluten free, of course!). I wouldn’t even realize that midnight had come and passed. I would just know I was having a great time on Saturday, enjoying one of my favorite things about my new home: close proximity to saltwater.

As far as New Year’s Resolutions? The same goals I had for myself every day in 2011 – be healthy, massage my intellectual side, and be kind to myself and others. Also, laughter. Lots and lots of that.

♥mb.

Battles.

Everyone fights them. With themselves, with others, with ideas of how they should be. A person doesn’t have to be wearing a government issued uniform to be fighting a war – and whereas emotional battles don’t end in bullet wounds and medics, they certainly do leave scars. We are all essentially emotional warriors, going into battle with the things that make us insecure, uncomfortable and in the end, stronger.

A couple months ago I overheard an interesting conversation in the women’s restroom at my favorite local Mexican place. A young girl was crying to someone who appeared to be her mother – not all that uncommon a sight in a girls bathroom, (especially if you have ever overheard a crying conversation at a bar right before last call…) The subject of this girl’s apparent breakdown alluded me as I eavesdropped (yes, I admit, this is something I rather enjoy) until I heard something very surprising come out of her mouth “They just think I’m too skinny, I don’t want to be this skinny!”

I mentally paused…was this girl seriously complaining about being TOO skinny? Considering that the desire to be skinny has created billions of dollars’ worth of industry, the fact that someone would complain about the fact that they couldn’t gain weight seemed absolutely absurd to me. Especially having dealt with my own fair share of body image issues, I wanted to go out there and smack her right across her tear-stained face. Did she realize all the things she could wear that I couldn’t? Did she think about the fact that millions of women struggle to lose weight every day? And this just happened to her naturally?

I thought about saying something to her, being that kind voice of objectivity that can only be achieved and listened to when heard from a complete stranger. I contemplated telling her that she shouldn’t listen to what other people thought, that no one should ever cry because someone else made them do so, that most of it was probably in her head…and then I realized that wow, I sure needed to take my own advice didn’t I?

Whether you think you are too skinny, too fat, too smart, too shy, too (insert adjective here), a. you are probably wrong and b. stop thinking that. Our greatest strengths often stem from our greatest weaknesses, and all that needs to change is the perspective, not you.

Being happy shouldn’t be about conditions. (In fact, if you ask me, conditions are the root of unhappiness.) It should be about embracing your blessings, loving yourself for the good parts about you and acknowledging your faults as you would nod your head at an adversary seated across from you at a dining table, showing them that you recognize them and have learned to live with their constant presence despite your distaste for their being.

Happy doesn’t equal perfect. It never has, and it never will. So stop trying to achieve perfection. Or change your definition of perfect to include all the little mishaps that make life interesting.

♥mb.

Things I Can't Live Without...Black Tea with Lemon

In college, I spent 2 and a half weeks at the end of summer doing a short study abroad trip in Ireland. It was probably one of the busiest 15 days of my life, in the best possible sense. The days were filled with touring and business visits (the subject of the trip was how the Irish economy had gone from third world to world power in a matter of years, interestingly enough this trip was in 2008, right before the huge financial crises that was felt around the globe...) and the nights were filled with too much Guinness and Jameson (again, in the best possible sense.) At the end of the trip, a sorority sister & I galavanted off to Paris (oh, the beauty of European travel!) where we stayed in a charming little hotel for our short stay.

Paris was an amazing breath of fresh air after the busyness that had been moving hotels every 2-3 days back in Ireland and trekking the country - literally - from end to end on a bus that barely seemed to fit on the winding coastal highways. Instead of being rushed around from location to location, we had the opportunity to make our own schedule, sample the best of Parisian pastries & french pressed espresso on the Champs-Élysées and eat crepes across the street from the Eiffel Tower as it sparkled at night (this was in the pre-gluten free days, so crepes were a daily must, along with about 5 pain au chocolats). At the end of each liesurely sightseeing day, we retreated to our hotel room and ordered hot tea. It just seemed European and quite lovely.

Each night, they brought a teapot and 2 teacups with lemon slices in them.  My days as a tea drinking afficinado did not develop until much later, and this was something I had never seen before - sure, a slice of the yellow fruit usually accompanied iced tea, but have you ever seen anywhere in America serve hot tea the same way? I surely hadn't. I soon learned that black tea poured over a slice of lemon is surely one of the most comforting and delightful ways to enjoy a cup of tea. Being a person who never adds sugar to my tea (literally, never) I enjoyed the subtle flavor that the citrus added to my hot beverage. It was undoubetdly a great thing to enjoy while resting tired feet from a day spent walking around one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

 my favorite photo I took of the Eiffel Tower. literally, I think it's the most goregous thing I have ever seen.

© meghan brittany. 

This is something that I still enjoy doing today. If for nothing else than the moment of time travel it seems to elicit - a sip brings back vivid memories of walking on bridges over the River Seine and oggling over paintings I had only admired on the pages of books at the Musee D'Orsay. I truly left a part of me in Paris and my heart flutters at the thought of getting to return there someday for much longer than 3 days and nights.

But, in the meantime, everytime I brew up a spot of tea and slice a lemon into my awaiting mug, I smile at the fact that I picked up this habit in one of my favorite places I have ever visited.

♥mb.

Feel vs. Look

When it comes to health and body image, I personally feel like there are two very separate buckets that most people (especially women) typically fall under: those who care more about how they feel and those who care more about how they look. I don't necessarily believe that the two are mutually exclusive, but it seems to me that people usually tip more heavily into one direction if both are a consideration.

In recent years, especially after the discovery of my food allergies, I definteily fall into the "feel" bucket. Of course, if I feel great and my jeans won't zip up, that is a problem. The lucky part is, in my experience, the focus on the "feel" part of the scenario usually ends well for the "look" category. I will admit that in the weeks leading up to my cousin's (sister's) wedding I was eating salads with a much higher frequency than normal (I mean, my future kids are going to see judge me based on those pictures!) but I am most definitely not the type of girl who would sip lemonade spiked with cayenne pepper and maple syrup to fit into a dress that is likely a size too small to begin with. (Size is just a number anyway - does it really matter if you are wearing an 8 vs. a 6? Who is honestly going to know??)

The advantage of falling under the "feel" umbrella is that your propensity for self-love increases ten-fold. If you spend your life and your time focusing on the way you look in the mirror, your inner self will suffer. Not only will you be prone to insecurity, but you will also make insufficient nutritional choices for your body, or as I like to think of it as, the very thing that lets you live your life. In not giving it what it needs (and constantly bombarding it with negative thoughts) you are essentially turning against your life force. And if you ask me, you only live once - you aren't going to remember the guilt you felt after eating a piece of chocolate cake on your death bed. So why are you spending so much time worrying about it right now?

I am of course also not making the point that it is "vain" or "superficial" to care about how you look. Everyone cares about how they look. It's natural. Caring about how you look is a part of self-respect. But it's when you let your personal mantra slip to more of the "look" side of the body image scale that things start to get complicated. That's when things like eating disorders set in - after years and years of mentally pounding your body for not being perfect, your mind gains the propensity to convince itself that eating isn't important. Or that self-mutilation is. Nothing happens overnight - I am not suggesting that if you have a "fat day" you are suddenly flying off the handle into unhealthy territory. You aren't human if you don't have a day like that.

My simple wish for America (especially for young women) is that the focus on the body would shift from the outside to the inside. Instead of asking things like "what can I do to make my thighs less fat?" we should be praising our hearts for pumping blood, our muscles for allowing us to walk, run, play and live, and most importantly, checking in with ourselves emotionally and making sure that everything is ok there. And if it isn't? Exercise. Hot tea. Reading. Watching a favorite movie. Find the things that give you happiness and exploit the hell out of them when you need them. After all, that is why they are there.

I have grown to accept the fact that I will never look like a Victoria Secret angel. The Victoria Secret angels don't even look like Victoria Secret angels most of the time - some of the models don't even drink liquids 12 hours prior to the show (that includes things with no calories like tea and water, by the way). I'm sorry, but that is just a little too extreme for me.

As I like to say, a piece of cake might not make you skinny, but it will sure as hell make you happy. Living life in fear of the consequences that food will have on your body is no way to live. Food exists to be enjoyed and savored, yes, in moderation, but in some respect all things aside.

Give it up. Let it go. Shift your focus. Care about your health more than your weight. A lower number on the scale doesn't mean you will live longer. And guess what else? "Skinny" doesn't always equal "healthy". If you didn't already know this, muscle weighs more than fat. Maintain a state of being where you fall nicely in the balance of the "look" and "feel" approach. I think you will be happy where it lands you, both on the outside and the inside.

If you care more about the way you feel, you will eat better, think more positvely, excercise more responsibly (endorphins, yay!) and not encounter the kinds of health problems so many people suffer from due to self-neglect in one respect or another.

All that said, don't let that your new focus stop you from binge eating cookies every once in a while. Everything in life is about balance, and binge eating cookies is just sometimes a part of that balance.

♥mb.

Life is short...

...eat dessert first.

(Or just eat dessert. No one judgement here if your dinner consists more of sugar than the better parts of the food pyramid.)

♥mb.

Keep in mind...

I need to remind myself that there are different types of happiness, and I am simply pursuing my particular style of it. I'm not wrong, mine is just different. And it deserves respect too.

♥mb.

Pumpkin + bourbon + caramel = &hearts

Well friends, as of today, it is officially fall. My favorite season of the year. There is just something so magical about the transition from the hot summer sun to cooler autumn weather - it calms the soul and quells the busyness that always accompanies the hotter months. It's as if the weather is inviting us to take a deep breath in, trade our sandals for boots and cuddle up inside with a fuzzy blanket. It's wonderfully relaxing.

Image Credit: Google Images

Sadly, where I live, the change in the seasons will not be as significant. The fall equinox symbols the "warm season" turning to the "less warm season"as opposed to a complete shift in nature's backdrop. Having always lived in cooler places, my mind is busy thinking about things like scarves, bulky sweaters, and football games in 50 degree weather drinking spiked hot chocolate. If the weather won't cooperate, I will just have to make a little fall for myself.

The reemergence of pumpkin as the flavor of choice is one of the key occurrences symbolizing that autumn has officially made it's entrance. One of my favorite things about the holidays has always been my mom's pumpkin pie, which has a surprising secret ingredient - bourbon. All of the over 21 part evaporates during baking (no, my mom was not spoon feeding me spiked pie as a baby) and what you are left with is the perfect flavor to accompany the spiciness of pumpkin desserts.

This pie was the inspiration behind one of my grand cupcake plans: a pumpkin-bourbon cupcake with salted caramel icing. I wanted a cake that mimicked the nostalgic flavors so synonymous with the holidays for me, topped with a salty-sweet buttercream that would compliment the spiciness of the cake perfectly. And I am proud to say that I have achieved exactly that.

I converted a family applesauce cake recipe for the cake, and simply poured homemade caramel sauce into my favorite buttercream recipe to create the delicious topping. Of course, as with everything I create, this recipe is gluten and dairy free, but can be easily converted depending on your favorite ingredients.

Pumpkin-Bourbon Cupcakes with Salted Caramel Icing


Cake:


2.5 cups gfree flour blend (I use a mix of superfine brown rice flour, potato starch and tapioca flour)
2 cups of white sugar
1.5 tsp baking soda
1.5 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking powder
1 tsp xanthan gum
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg

1 1/4 cups pumpkin
1/4 cup bourbon (I use Seagram's 7, just like mom!)
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup shortening
2 eggs

1. Heat oven to 350⁰. 

2. Whisk together all dry ingredients, set aside. 

3. Combine all wet ingredients in large mixer bowl, then add dry ingredients. Beat all ingredients on low speed for 30 seconds, then scrape the sides. 

4. Beat on high speed 3 minutes, then scrape down the sides.

5. Fill cupcake prepared cupcake tins 3/4 full with batter. (I find the easiest way to do this is with a large spring loaded ice cream scoop, like this one).

6. Set timer for 20 minutes, then check. Add time in 3 minute increments until cupcakes are slightly browned and a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

© meghan brittany.

Caramel Sauce:

I found this recipe for Vegan Caramel Sauce and made half:

1/2 cup butter or margarine (1 stick)

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup corn syrup

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1. Melt the butter in a medium sauce pan over medium heat.

2. Once melted, add sugar, corn syrup, salt and vanilla - continually stir until mixture simmers.

3. Once it is simmering, add the baking soda and remove from heat, stirring vigorously.

4. Keep stirring until the mixture is smooth with no large bubbles.

5. Let cool for about 30 minutes.

Frosting:

I have been making this buttercream so long, that I don't measure - I make it based on taste, look and feel. What follows is my best guess. Although my advice? Use your favorite frosting recipe - just only mix together the butter/margarine, powdered sugar and enough milk to combine the mixture.

2 tbs butter or margarine

2.5 cups powdered sugar

splash of milk or non-dairy substitute

Half recipe of caramel sauce, cooled

Additional powdered sugar/milk

1. Combine first 3 ingredients until coarsely mixed.

2. Add in the cooled caramel sauce and mix until well combined & smooth.

3. Continue to add powdered sugar and small splashes of milk until desired texture is achieved. (Should be smooth but not drippy - easily tested on sneaky fingers!)

Frost cupcakes with an icing spatula or pastry bag affixed with a decorative tip. Admire your hard work and get ready for the compliments, from gluten and non-gluten eaters alike. It might seem like a lot of work, but I promise you, it will be worth it. 

© meghan brittany.

Happy Fall : )

♥mb.

Healthy Tips for Busy Bees.

If you are anything like me, just eating anything at all can be difficult. Let alone eating healthy. I have had a couple of times where I have literally eaten ice cream for dinner because I a. didn’t have anything I could quickly throw together or re-heat, b. didn’t have any ingredients on hand to make anything or c. I simply didn’t have the energy to create anything more complete and nutritious. Such is the life of a busy 20-something, especially one with some pretty significant food allergies that make getting take-out more of a hassle than a convenience. Plus, who can afford regular take-out on an entry-level salary? Definitely not this girl. *sigh*

Now I am no expert on healthy eating, but I was raised under the supervision of a mother who majored in nutrition in college, and a father who calls fruit “nature’s candy”. There were always veggies on my plate at dinner and I remember being that weird kid who absolutely LOVED broccoli. I also have the disadvantage of having a sensitive tummy that doesn’t like things with gluten and dairy in them – aka, just about everything that is processed/easy to fix. One thing I love about veggies and fruit is that there isn’t a label to read – I know automatically that they are free of the things that make my stomach angry. Some of you may think that this makes eating healthy “so easy!” but let me be the first to tell you, there are plenty of “bad for you” things out there that don’t contain gluten or dairy. And trust me when I say that I have found nearly all of them. Sugar, for example, does not include either of those ingredients, and can be just as detrimental to your health if consumed as often as most people consume fried foods and whipped cream.

But like they say, you live & learn. In these past 8 months that I have spent transitioning from semi-employed & having too much time on my hands to working 40 hours a week with the exact opposite problem, I have accumulated some knowledge on how to eat healthy (or at a minimum get 3 servings of fruit/veggies a day) on a time crunch.

1. Stay hydrated.

If there is one thing that will not help you if you are maintaining a busy schedule, it’s being dehydrated. I started obsessively drinking water when I was in high school, so I am one of the lucky few who developed that skill at a young enough age that it stuck with me, but the vast majority of people are walking around with draught-ridden cells. When you wake up, drink at least 8 ounces of water (or, as I like to do, coconut water) especially if you drink coffee as part of your morning routine. Everyone wakes up dehydrated, most people just don't do enough to fix it. Invest in a recyclable aluminum water bottle  (such as Sigg) or a BPA-free plastic bottle (such as CamelBak). Or even better, invest in a couple – one for work, one for home. Commit to drinking a bottle full before lunch, and a bottle after. Then additional water in the morning when you wake up and if you work out. You will be amazed at how much healthier you will feel just by resolving to get enough fluids.

2. Eat a veggie or fruit with every meal.

Eating fresh vegetables and fruit is one of the first things that can slip away with a busy lifestyle. The easiest way to make sure you are still getting enough of these natural goodies is to eat one with every meal of the day. Two things that help me with this are a standard list of fresh veggies/fruits I buy every time I go to the grocery store and Ziplock baggies. I also find that pre-slicing fruit such as strawberries and cantaloupes make it easier to eat them on the go or toss them in a salad. Baby carrots are easy to throw into a Ziplock bag and eat later at work. Dried fruit such as Craisins also work (although these do have added sugar, so just be mindful!) Also, don’t let the lazy connotation that comes with convenience foods scare you away from them. I took a lot of crap when I told people that I bought pre-sliced apples but a. I HATE cutting apples and B. if it’s going to encourage that I eat more apples, why not? I buy pre-sliced apples and pre-shredded carrots. I make my own salads but if you know you won’t, buy pre-packaged mixes. It’s better than nothing!

MY LIST: baby carrots, salad ingredients (green leaf lettuce, red cabbage, green onions & shredded carrots), spinach, strawberries, cantaloupe, pre-sliced red apples and bananas, along with the occasional cucumber, zucchini and tomato.

Trust me when I say that this task is less daunting than it seems – just requires a little planning. As soon as you get used to it, you will feel like your meal isn’t complete without a big bowl of salad or a banana while you check your inbox first thing in the morning.

3. Your fridge & freezer are your best friend.

Make things in bulk when you have time and store them for when you don’t. You can even freeze things like fresh chicken or ground beef, as well as pasta sauce, soups and muffins/cake.  Just make sure to label things you freeze – things have a tendency to get lost in the vast expanses of that frozen tundra, and the last thing you want to eat is year old beef that expired months ago.

 If you plan to eat something over the course of the next few days, invest in some Tupperware and keep it in the fridge. A few minutes in the microwave and you’ve got yourself a meal. I also try to make green salads in bulk and keep them in the fridge so that all that’s standing in the way of me and a big bowl of salad is a pair of tongs and clean utensils.

In a perfect world, I would come home and cook every night, but I have learned in reality, that just doesn’t happen. Use the tools you have to ensure you get good meals to maintain your energy throughout your busy week.

4. Snacks are important.

This is something I have learned being gluten-free. I always have some kind of bar or trail mix stashed in my purse and I literally have a snack drawer at work for days when I don’t get lunch or my appetite is just harder to satiate than normal. We all know that nothing is worse than a busy day that is so busy in fact, you don’t have 20 minutes to run out and grab a quick bite. Solution? Snacks. Also, another universally known fact is that we human folk get grumpy when hungry. The blood sugar gets low, and so does the tolerance level for just about anything that isn’t kittens and/or someone giving you a gift. This is probably the most easily avoided circumstance in the adult world, but our diet obsessed culture has led us to believe that things like “snacks” and “eating after 7 PM” lead to weight gain and subsequently an unhappy life. In reality, it works backwards – if you are TOO hungry and under nourishing yourself, your body will go into starvation mode, and instead of letting the fat go, it will hold on to it like Rose held onto Jack at the end of Titanic. As long as you are snacking healthfully and when you actually feel hungry, it’s quite beneficial. If you avoid getting over-hungry you will be able to avoid over-eating and you will keep your metabolism functioning at a normal rate.

Some of my favorite snacks: baby carrots with hummus, a mix of Craisins, almonds and if I’m feeling fancy dark chocolate chips, protein bars made with natural sugar (either agave or rice syrup), fruit leathers, un-buttered popcorn and the not-so-healthy rice krispy square. I also have a special spot in my heart for Trader Joe’s cinnamon almonds, made with sugar, but taste like a snickerdoodle. (For those of you not doing the math at home, the almonds are healthier than the cookie.) I also find myself snacking on cereal and milk (almond or coconut) before hitting the sack.

So in essence: snack up.


5.  Remember that you aren’t perfect.

You aren’t Giada DiLaurentis. You don’t get paid to stare out at the ocean from your Malibu mansion and make delicious, healthy food.  Some days, you barely have the time and mental capacity to even remember what celery looks like. We all have those weeks where our personal food triangle (or whatever shape it has morphed into these days) consists overwhelmingly of takeout and fast food, and we all have those days where we missed lunch and are so ravenous that upon getting home we eat an entire bag of salt & pepper potato chips in one sitting (not that I am speaking at all from personal experience…)

Just because you have eaten poorly for a couple days (or a couple weeks) doesn’t mean you should give yourself permission to give up entirely. If you’re anything like me, after a long session of terrible eating, you could spend an entire day just eating cucumbers and dry cereal. Don’t launch into some crazy cleanse or punish yourself by working out harder than you are physically capable of – just stop, think, put things in perspective and realize that your body isn’t ruined because you filled it with junk for a little while. Pick up an apple, slather on some almond butter, and move on.


Being busy is not an excuse to malnourish yourself. But, as with anything in life, it's all about balance. If you are getting what you need to keep the inner you happy & healthy, give it a little chocolate. It would be unfair to deprive of it of such a wonderful indulgence...

♥mb.

Re-defining "Fitness".

I used to be somewhat of a "workoutaholic". I felt guilty if I didn't go to the gym, it was my go-to when I was upset or frustrated and it was absolutely UNHEARD of for me to go more than 3 days without donning an old tshirt and sweating a little.

Needless to say, since college, things have dramatically changed. For some reason, getting to the gym is more difficult and requires much more mental and physical effort than it used to. I think it's just because I've been out of the routine for so long, and as we all know, getting back into it is the most difficult part. I also, of course, stem from the mindset that unless you run multiple miles or burn 450 calories (via the cardio machines I'm sure always accurate records) that a workout isn't really worth it. This comes from 15 years of playing soccer, frequenting two-a-days during my last years of high school, and the fact that I used to run 3-miles 3 times a week like it was no big thing.

Since my body isn't used to the rigorous exercise (yet) and because I have a lot less free time than I ever did in high school and college, I am taking on a new attitude towards fitness and getting back in shape.

Image Credit: http://www.pinterest.com/

No matter how short, a workout is still a workout. Got 10 minutes? Run a mile. Got 20? Run a mile, do some free weights and a couple sets of crunches. On the nights I can make it to an hour long yoga class, it will just be icing on the cake (which I will feel a lot better about eating once I start rewarding my body with regular workouts again.)

In time, the strength and the fitness will come back, and running or yoga or whatever phsyical activity it happens to be will seem less daunting. I will start to crave it again and love it with all my heart like I used to. I will re-learn how to love the burning in my muscles and the exhaustion after pushing myself to my physical limit.

It all happens in time, but that doesn't mean it can't happen 10 minutes at a time. SWEAT.

♥mb.

Happiness is...

...chamomile tea and pumpkin-bourbon cake with salted caramel icing.

Don't worry folks, recipe post coming soon : )

♥mb.

10 years come and gone.

Yesterday was a Sunday. An overcast day turned sunny and beautiful in the part of the country I happened to be in. Nothing seemed extraordinary - I still needed my morning coffee, I was with my friends like I love being, I caught bits of a couple NFL games...just another normal Sunday afternoon in September.

I guess I expected it to feel different. I kept saying over and over, mentally and to the people I was with, "I can't believe it's been 10 years, I can't believe it's been 10 years". To be perfectly honest, a part of me still can't even believe it actually happened. I read an observation from someone yesterday that articulated my exact feelings and thoughts so perfectly I feel compelled to share it:

When I was a little girl, I coudln't understand why someone would crash a plane on purpose. Now, ten years later, it's even harder to understand.

I was 14 when September 11th, 2001 happened. I had a dream either the night before, or a couple nights before, that something really terrible happened. (To this day, anytime I have a catastrophic dream like that, I always check the New York Times website to make sure that nothing bad has happened). I remember waking up shortly after the first tower had been hit, when we still thought it was an accident. I also remember getting ready for one of my first days of high school in my bathroom upstairs, listening slightly to the news my mom had on the television downstairs, when the second tower was hit. 

At first, I didn't really understand the significance of it. My little sister was terrified, especially given that at this point, it was all but blatant that America had been attacked, and we didn't know what else was planned. My dad was working in one of the tallest buildings on the West Coast in San Francisco at the time - a building that, if the terrorists were looking to hit skyscrapers, could have easily been one of the next targets on the list. Worried for his safety, at the insistence of my baby sister and more-or-less forced to by airport closures, my dad rented a car and drove home from Northern California that night.

I tried to be strong for her - my natural reaction is to act like things aren't a big deal, even if I know that they are. I dismissed it, didn't grasp how truly tragic it was - afterall, I was just a teenager watching these events unfold on TV, like a disaster movie from the comfort of a theatre. It didn't really seem real until the towers started to fall. That was the exact moment in time when I understood the human toll these events were taking. Before, when it had just been those few floors effected, it didn't seem quite as bad. But sitting there, watching images of those enormous towers collapse upon themselves, all I could think about were the people inside. And that is precisely when my heart began to break.

I think part of the reason this milestone in immortalizing this event seems so strange to me, is that I so clearly can hear my dad telling me, a couple days later as I was looking through a magazine and crying about what happened, "Meghan, this is something that is going to be in the history books. You will someday tell your kids about this when they ask you about September 11th."A day that used to only be just another day on the calendar as the summer turned to fall would become an iconic "day that will forever live in infamy", just like that event on December 7th in Pearl Harbor that I learned about in my textbooks. And now, ten years later, I can truly understand what he meant. 

The other thing that makes this tenth anniversary so strange, is that this is the first time I can clearly remember something so major effecting me so much. Not that this is in any way, shape or form is about me - I was seeing this tragedy from the eyes of a 9th grader on the complete opposite side of the country. I didn't know anyone who had perished, and I don't think at that point in my life I even knew anyone who knew anyone who had passed. And yet, all that aside, it still left such a huge emotional scar.

Although I remember all of these horrible things, the other thing that I so clearly remember is how much pride I felt at seeing our country come together during the time of tragedy. I always find it so interesting that in times of utter darkness, the grace of people finds a way to shine through the smoke and bring peace. If it weren't for grace - the grace of people, the grace of community, and the grace of God - events like September 11th would be so much more tragic. Flight 93 is a perfect example of how something so horrible creates the absolute portrait of what it means to live an honrable life - I am still so proud to call those who died as heros my fellow citizens.

Although the news channels and internet were flooded yesterday with content about the 10th anniversary, I only read one article. I didn't post anything to Facebook or Twitter or really even discuss it with anyone, other than my periodical statements about the time lapse since it occured. I felt like the only people I could have watched any documentaries about it with (because there is no way on Earth I could endure something like that by myself) were my parents, because they are the only people who truly understand how much something so detached from my life personally, except as an American citizen, affected me. 

Even though ten years is a long time for a twenty-something like me, I can still envision those smoking towers, that wreckage in the Pennsylvania field, the iconic Pentagon with a plane splitting it in two. Those emotional wounds are still so raw that, even after a decade, just reading that one article brought tears to my eyes and a familiar sense of fear into my soul. It is still so raw, that I can't imagine having watched an entire day's coverage of it all again. It would have felt like the worst possible kind of deja-vu.

Instead, I chose to remember it in my own way. By writing about it and thinking about it, and realizing that because it happened in my lifetime, it will always be a part of my personal history. I will always remember walking by that hole in the skyline during my time in New York City three summers ago, and getting an eerie feeling that something was supposed to be there. I will always remember going to Ground Zero, 3 and a half years after the attacks, and seeing how much damage there still was, and how much work there was left to do to repair it. And I will always remember the steel beam cross, found in the wreckage, draped in the American flag that symbolized that although broken, with the help of God, we would persist.

My heart aches for those who lost someone. For the children who are now old enough to comprehend what happened to their loved ones. For the parents who lost a child too soon because of the senselessness of a confused religious extremism. I will never be able to understand how people can kill in the name of God, but I take comfort in knowing that they will someday get their justice. And that, through their violence, America came together, stronger than ever, and has remained as such ever since. Funny how things backfire for those who do not consider all of the possible consequences of their actions.

9/11/01. Never forget.

♥mb.

Thoughts on forever.

Last weekend, I was the Maid of Honor in my cousin's (sister's) wedding, which resulted not only in one of the most emotional days (for me) on record (I tried to hold it together so that people woudln't be chatting about "that hysterically crying bridesmaid" over cocktails at the reception) but also in one of my favorite pictures of all time:

©meghan brittany.

One of the things I kept thinking about going into this wedding was that someday, we would sit down on the living room floor during family get-togethers and show our kids the pictures of us at her wedding. This photo is much more than a picture to me - this is a captured memory of me with someone I have known my entire life, that will live in some kind of frame in my every one of my residences for the rest of my life. This is the one I will pull out time and time again and say "this is what we looked like on your/her/your "aunt's" wedding day" or, really far in the future, "this is what we looked like at your age".

The funniest part about her September 3rd wedding, was that I had two other friends get married on the same exact day. I would have attended each had they been on separate dates - the way that worked out was kind of funny. (But, I guess on the plus side, I saved myself a whole lot of moolah in not having to book 3 flights home to Seattle!) It was just so strange to me that three ladies in my life changed their last names on the same exact day.

I am dumbfoudned by the fact that, in marriage, one moment you are an independant entity, and as soon as you are "pronounced man and wife" you suddenly become only a part to a whole. You are no longer "first name, last name" and "first name, last name". You are THE "last names". People will address things to "Mr. and Mrs. Last Name" instead of "first name" and "first name". I understand that certain people my age are ready for that. But I could honestly not think of anything more scary at this point in my life.

I know that my opinions about this only stands because I haven't found "the one" yet. I don't think I've even found the "two" or the "three" at this point. I guess, for me right now, at 24 and a half years old, forever just seems like a really, really long time. And honestly, it's hard for me to imagine finding someone that I like enough to spend my forever with.

That man is going to have to be someone really, truly special. Somoene that knows which buttons to push and which buttons will lead directly to "you really hurt my feelings". Someone who loves my family and dogs and college footall as much as I do. Someone who is just the right amount of similar to me as he is different from me that it fits. And who, perhaps most importantly, loves breakfast as much as I do.

I'm pretty sure that I haven't met him yet. And sometimes, it seems like I never will. But instead of viewing this time as "loneliness" like so many people do, I will choose to view it as an extended lease on my independance that is special and to be enjoyed. There will be plenty of time for shared beds and closets and the rest of the togetherness that comes with sharing your life with someone.

image cred: www.pinterest.com

I only have this time right now to be young and free. I mean, countries spend centuries fighting for freedom, and I've already got it. It would be a missed opportunity to not be thrilled about that.

Forever will be there when I am ready for it. Thank goodness it's more patient than me.

♥mb.

Things I can't live without...Cinnamon Dolce Americano.

I don't go to Starbucks as often as I used to. In high school and college, I was a borderline addict. (Ok, maybe there were no "borderlines" about it.) Anytime I was in a bad mood, my mom would tell me to do one of two things: go to the gym or go to Starbucks. Both worked their magic every time.

Now that I am living on an entry-level salary, my Starbucks runs are usually limited to the days when I unearth a Starbucks card in my purse that still has some money on it. Also, since moving to So Cal, I much prefer to purchase my overpriced espresso drinks at Kean Coffee, for the simple reason that I can actually get milk in my coffee there (they offer almond milk, I could hug the person that made that business decision) and they also have a few varieties of gluten-free muffins in their pastry case. And ok I admit, I also love the decor...

Sometimes though, nothing satisfies my caffeine craving like a tried-and-true Starbucks original, especially when someone else is treating (which thankfully, happened this morning). A grande, 2-pump cinnamon dolce Americano did the trick to kickstart my Friday. It tastes like a cinnamon roll - except without all those nasty glutens and with caffeine. I can't imagine anything more perfect.

All things aside, being from Seattle, there is something truly comforting about the paper cup with that iconic green logo. Reminds me that I am never too far away from my roots.

♥mb.

About growing up...

Growing-up is hard.

A "fun" hard, well...some of it. I could really do without that whole "tight budget" thing and I really miss my dogs, but for the most part I am embracing this semi-new independence with wide open arms.

Lately though, I have found this whole "adult" thing to be kind of aggravating. The fact that the DMV is only open from 9 to 5 during the week, for example, is something that has repeatedly been the subject of many a venting phone call to my mom the past couple of months. (I have been 3 times since May and have yet to accomplish switching my registration.) I find myself cursing under my breath about things like this - "I can't believe I (insert swear word here) have to spend my lunch hour on the phone with Triple AAA" and "seriously, I always have to get the (insert swear word here) first appointment of the day at the doctor"...you know you've (insert swear word here) been there.

Lately, I have found it incredibly difficult to work full-time, feed myself, write regularly, stay active and maintain some semblance of a social life. For someone who has only been living in this grown-up world for a measly 6 months (a tiny drop in the ocean of the rest of my career, I am still very much adjusting) I occasionally grow very tired of  being an adult and all the responsibilities that come with it. I have a weekly battle with myself over whether "not starving" is a good enough reason to get off the couch and go to the grocery store. (To date, "not starving" has always won.)

At times like this when I feel exhausted trying to just live my life, as hard as it can be, I am comforted by taking a step back and realizing that at end the end of each day, I am sleeping peacefully in my big comfortable bed in a bedroom I have decorated to my personal "T". At the end of each day, I am still me, I still have wonderful parents and family and friends that feel like family. I have Saturdays spent out in the California sunshine and Sunday mornings spent "puppy Skyping" (yes, you heard me right) to look forward to. Every morning, I have a hot mug of coffee and a half-hour at work before the craziness of the day sets in (almost always...) to check-in with myself and prepare for my day (usually by browsing the latest posting on cupcakes & cashmere). I always have those one or two songs to listen to that never fail to center me and help clear my head. Even if my morning has to begin at a place like the DMV getting in arguments with the ever-optimist staff or the doctor's office getting prescriptions for a sinus infection, there are so many things to make my day brighter, more positive. So many silver linings.

I am young. This is the time in my life when I am supposed to be able to do it all. And Lord knows, I am trying. But on a night like this, all I expect of myself is to watch Sex & The City reruns, drink a cup of tea and engage in an activity that has always been one of the most effective therapeutic releases for me.

Writing.

♥mb.

When bad things happen to good people...

...we move on.

♥mb.

Fire...what if?

A while ago, I bought a University of Washington Snuggie (please, hold your judgement). I mostly bought it as a joke, but grew to love few things more than that awkwardly-shaped piece of fleece on a relaxing night in. I remember getting a call from a friend, asking me about my opinion of my Snuggie (he was thinking about buying one) and I promptly told him "I would save it in a fire." Great way to explain something that you can't imagine parting with, right?

I admit: it may not have been a completely honest answer, because when I stumbled upon the website The Burning House today while reading Apartment Therapy (another of my favorite new online finds) I really started to think about the question: what would I actually save in a fire?

The website is all user generated content, where people from all over the world (Brisbane, Missouri, Amsterdam) submit photos of all the worldly possessions they would save in that exact situation. It asks this question:

If your house was burning, what would you take with you? It's a conflict between what's practical, valuable and sentimental. What you would take reflects your interests, background and priorities. Think of it as an interview condensed into one question.

Along with their name, location and profession, following the photographs are detailed lists of the items shown. Some are simple: "phone", "MacBook", "insert mundane necessary item here" (we all have them). But others are just absolutely beautiful: "the wedding dress that I married the man of my dreams in 18 years ago" and a picture of someone's feet with the (paraphrased) caption "as I looked around my home trying to find what I would take, I looked down at my feet, and realized that all I really needed to take was me."

Feeling sentimental, inspired and infatuated by pages and pages of people basically bearing their souls to complete strangers through photos of their most treasured possessions, I began to contemplate the predicament myself. I tried to keep it realistic - some of these people took bits of furniture, and I don't know about you, but if my home was on fire, I think the last thing I would be trying to do would be lugging a hefty piece of wood down three flights of stairs. I tried to think about the things that I own that truly are irreplaceable - and if they are irreplaceable, why they meant so much to me. (I have an advantage of course, because I have pre-knowledge of the flames that are about to consume my dwelling.) I figured if I were to smell smoke, the first thing I would do is throw on an oversized sweater & boots, then grab my Vera Bradley duffle and start shoving.

I started to arrange certain things with the intentions of taking a photo much like those on the blog and posting it here. But once I had everything compiled, it just didn't feel sincere to me. I mean, there are those few things that are absolute no-brainers: my 1980s L.L. Bean flannel that used to belong to my mom, the baby blanket I still sleep with, a couple beautiful pieces I inherited after my grandmother passed away. But I think I came to the realization that those "burning house" compilations seemed so much more complex and wonderful when they were someone else's response to the unthinkable. When it was my stuff laid out in an aesthetically pleasing fashion, it had no mystery or allure. But it might to someone else who only knows me as "Meghan Brittany from Irvine, California."

Nevertheless, it is fascinating to think about. It reminds me that every thing has a story, even if some are much more compelling than others. Our material things are rarely important to us just because they happen to be our favorite color or function well for what they are. They have meaning because someone gave them to you as a gift or because you used your first real paycheck to buy it or you wore it all around Europe for those couple of months you were abroad.

The stories are what make our things special. The intangible is what makes tangible stuff matter in the first place.

♥mb. 

Things I can't live without: Volume II/Reinstated.

Things have been pretty slow at work lately, which means I have had ample time to peruse the web. I have been drawing a lot of positive energy from fashion/design blogs (namely a new favorite, cupcakes & cashmere) that has me inspired to a. write more, b. create some fun new things and c. just revel in the things that delight me. 

I started out back in November with the goal to write regularly about the "things I can't live without" (my favorite way to describe the things in my life I consider to be essentials) but kind of fell off the band wagon after my initial ode to coconuts. With this post, I plan to reinstate these entries. Sometimes, they will be a post with a list of things, other times it will be a love letter to only one. It all just depends on my mood.

To that end, here are a few of the things I am loving now. Some are new discoveries, and some are old staples. Just little things that, right now, are making me happy through the simple act of existing.


Gluten-free toaster waffles
    seriously, sometimes, the only thing that sound good to me.

Aveeno Lemongrass, Grapefruit + Rosemary Body Wash
    no better scent to energize you in the morning and after a yoga session.

Essie Mint Candy Apple
    a variation of teal, my favorite color. how could I not love it on my nails?




And there you have it. The list could be completely different tomorrow. After all, variety is the spice of life.

♥mb.

Vices.

I am in the middle of what I like to call a "funk". (And no, not the fun, college "pre-" kind where you just play flip cup for hours.) Part of it has to do with biology, part to do with the fact that it has officially been 6 months since I flew south (and coincidentally, 6 months since I've really spent any time with my friends in Seattle) and part of it is a big mystery. As funks often are, very few things seem exciting, talking to people doesn't seem all that necessary, and certain things become hugely comforting for the part of us that feels broken, hurt or simply confused.

Everyone has them. Those simple, small things in life that always seem to function like a hug on a day when we really need one. (Or just make a good day even better by simply existing.) I define said "vices" as falling into one (or all) of the following categories:

1. The things that make you feel better no matter what.
2. The things that, even when crunched for cash, you will spend more than is budget-ly reasonable on.
3. The things that calm your crazy.

I like the third definition the best. Admit to it or not, we all have a little crazy that sometimes erupts into a lot of crazy that sometimes needs to be subdued. And these vices, time after time, do the trick. I wish I could tell you that one of my vices was going to the shooting range, but I'm sorry to say that I am just not that cool. (And I think that firing the shots would actually make me more anxious.)

In this particular funk, I have taken refuge in three particular things: nail polish, yoga and tea. Looking down at ten freshly painted fingers, finishing a Vinyasa session (that, admittedly, I still have a lot of trouble getting off the couch to go participate in) and sipping either green or peppermint tea has all soothed my soul immensely over these past couple of weeks. Three simple things, that together form a coalition of healing, that, topped with a long phone conversation with a certain mom have pretty well done their job to fix me up to the point where I feel like I am ready rejoin the human race.

Another thing that helps me when I am feeling down is to clean. Not in the Holly Housewife sense - no, vacuuming in stilettos is not my thing - but in the sense that I truly believe your outside surroundings heavily influence your inner workings. And that if you are living in a clean, pretty environment, your thoughts will follow suit. As I was cleaning yesterday and carefully arranging all of my various items in my medicine cabinet, my eyes were drawn to the particular shelf that housed all of my Essie colors. The tiny bottles, so seemingly insignificant, put a smile on my face - they just looked so darn nice together. I decided to take them out and neatly display them on my countertop, because they made me so happy (much the same way that I often like to hang a favorite dress prominently in my closet because the mere sight of it makes me exude joy.) The end result was this:

(Please, pardon the smudge on the purple!)

I am not saying that nail polish is now a decorative element (did you hear that, Elle Decor?), but am simply making the point that small things can make you really happy...but you have to let them. Often times when we feel bad about ourselves, we wait for something monumental to break the cycle - how many times have you or someone you know uttered the words "I would be happy if..." 

...I had a boyfriend ...I made more money ...I could lose 10 pounds ...I lived closer to my friends ... etc.

There is not one person in this world who is 100% satisfied with the way their life is right at this very moment (and if you find someone who claims they are, they are lying to you), but we all put way too many conditions on happiness. Or, maybe the thing is, that we wrongly define what it means to be happy. It is unrealistic to think that you are going to be a bobbing, bundle of sunshiney joy all of the days, hours and minutes of your life. But does that mean you are not happy? Certainly not.

In this day and age, when are we are bombarded daily with technology, media, Facebook updates and emails, it can be hard to zero in on the things that add a few moments of bliss to our day. I am encouraging you to seek those things out. Wear your favorite pair of heels with your PJs just because you like the way your feet look in them. Hang your nephew's (poorly) drawn dinosaur picture above your nightstand like it is a Rembrandt. Use nail polish bottles as decorations.

Whatever you do, find those things that even in the midst of clouds, make the sun break through just a little, even if just enough to give you faith that it's still there.

♥mb.

Big plans...cupcake plans.

I started carrying a small notebook around with me a couple of months ago. I realized that I kept getting these ideas about things I wanted to write about or remember, but wouldn't ya know I usually would forget them by the time I had finished mentally telling myself "I need to remember that one." You know how it goes. The human brain can only entertain 7 different thoughts simultaneously, and being an over-thinker by design, I am constantly overloaded in the "maximum thought" department.

This notebook allows me to jot down the things that occur to me WHEN I think of them. Genius, I know. Then, when I'm feeling inspired to write, I just flip through the pages until a particular quote or pondering begs to be transcribed into more words than just the few I haphazardly wrote down on the tiny page.

Today was one of those days where this small investment of time and money game in hugely handy. It was a slow, sleepy day at the office and per usual, my mind wandered off of work-related tasks. I recently discovered a marvelous website (shout out to my fabulous uncle for the suggestion) called Taste Spotting, aka "Food Porn". And it really, really is. There are thousands of pages of brilliantly photographed treats and delicacies of every variety - enough to inspire even the most culinarily challenged of people to throw on an apron and brave the kitchen. It is my new favorite way to kill time at work. No, no, not kill time - get inspired.

Since finding out about my food allergies, I have fallen irrevocably in love with cooking. I love finding recipes I can convert to something I can enjoy without any pain. Even more than that, I love sharing my creations with the people I love. I have been toying with the idea of recipe development for a while now - I have no idea what goes into actually creating a recipe from scratch, but I think I'm ready to start experimenting...

Perusing the many specatularly sugary treats on my new favorite online destination, I started to think about cupcakes, and how they are really like an empty canvas. There are so many interesting variations out there that use basic cake recipes as a base (for which I have many a gluten/dairy-free favorite!) but are so much more intriguing than just chocolate or vanilla. I thought to myself, if gourmet cupcake shops are popping up all over the place, why can't I try my hand at creating original cupcake recipes for the people in my life to enjoy? I am, after all, a firm believer that a cupcake can change your life, so why not create some "life-changing" cupcakes of my own?

This prompted me to pull out my pocket notebook and begin a list of all the different kinds of cupcakes I want to try my hand at. This is the list:

1. Chocolate Covered Pretzel - pretzel cupcake with chocolate ganache frosting
2. Pumpkin-Bourbon cupcake with salted caramel frosting
3. Lemon Rosemary cupcake with lemon curd filling and vanilla buttercream
4. Snickerdoodle (vanilla cupcake with a cinnamon swirl & cinnamon-sugar buttercream)
      I won't take credit for this one. I want to re-create a Trophy Cupcake but gfree :)
5. Lavender Vanilla
    Yet another Seattle cupcake spin-off: Cupcake Royale
6. Black Forest cupcake (dark chocolate cake with cherry center, chocolate frosting, cherry pie filling & cherry liqueur topping)
7. Kir Royale (vanilla cupcake with Chambord swirl, champagne-spiked buttercream)
8. Peanut Butter Cup (peanut butter cupcake with chocolate buttercream)
9. Tea Cupcakes (matcha, Earl Grey, black tea, Chamomille, the possibilities are endless!)
10. "Healthy" cupcake (something with oat flour, shredded coconut, pecans, flax seed meal, craisins & dark chocolate)


There it is people, my inspiration of the day. I will try to post the recipes as I make and perfect these puppies - crossing my fingers for good results : ) I am hoping this list will grow as well...suggestions?

Happy cupcake-ing friends.

♥ mb.

Put a splint on it?

I'm clumsy. Like, really clumsy. I drag my feet when I walk, turn my ankle almost every time I wear heels and was constantly the featured entertainment in my study abroad group because me + Europe + cobble stones = constant opportunities for tripping myself. It isn't uncommon for me to be covered in bruises & scrapes and have no idea as to the origin of any of them.

Over Memorial Day weekend this year, I truly outdid myself. My family had just left after spending two straight weeks with me and I decided that to ease the part of my heart that was breaking to see them go back home I would spend my Sunday evening cooking. Cooking - baking especially - has always made me feel better. I used to make cupcakes in high school every time I was upset about a boy or a fight with a friend or anything. There are few problems in life that sugar can't make a little better. The older I've gotten, the broader my repertoire of recipes has become, and so this particular "cooking therapy" was going to be spent making several treats for a family BBQ the next day.

Making my favorite potato salad and getting a little too comfortable with a super sharp chef's knife that had literally emerged from the womb of it's plastic casing minutes earlier, I endured a small injury. Now, I am no stranger to cutting myself in the kitchen - I'd say when I'm cooking regularly, there is a 1 in 5 chance I will nick a finger nail, stab my palm or draw a small amount of blood when I get a little lazy with the blade in my hand. But I immediately knew that this was different.

For one thing, it hurt like HELL. I ran it under cold water for a minute or so, but realized that wasn't helping. I was in a little bit of a panick because I know nothing about medicine (other than a. I'm not cut out for that, b. it's scary and c. if you see red, apply pressure) and as it would happen, my mother aka medical advisor was flying 30,000 feet in the air back home to Seattle. I shed a couple of tears, not because of pain or being scared, but just out of sheer "what the BLEEP do I do?".

I ended up at the emergency room, which is thankfully just around the corner from my apartment. (Ironic, actually, considering I had just been joking the other day about how "Hey if anything ever happens to me the ER is just right there!") I showed up there, finger still covered with a paper towel I dare not take off, and you would be shocked how quickly they saw me. (Seriously, if you ever have to go to the ER for any reason, just know, if you are bleeding, they push you to the top of the list. Just FYI)
One hour, two stitches and three inches of gauze later, I walked out of the ER looking like I was newly engaged to a mummy.

I returned home, slumped onto my couch, stared at my left ring finger, and chuckled to myself. While so many women in my life were donning engagement rings & wedding bands on this very finger, I was sporting stitches and a splint. It was a perfect testament to the fact that I could not be LESS ready to take that step in my life. As clearly, if I can end up in the ER from the simple task of cutting a potato, I can't even take care of myself. It is proof that I am still learning, still too new to this whole adult thing to even consider replacing the gauze with a diamond.

I kind of loved the symbolism that had stumbled upon me during a time when my fridge is covered in bridal shower invites, wedding save-the-dates and baby announcements. (Although the method could have been a little less painful...) Opening my freezer to pull out ice cream is a constant reminder of how grown-up my dearest family and friends are becoming, and sometimes that can be scary to a girl like me who is still figuring out how to just be herself.

There are still so many things I want to do and experience before I take a step in my life where every decision I make centers around not only me but another person. I am not ready to share my closet with boy clothes. I like sleeping smack-dab in the middle of my queen-sized bed. I love not having to explain to someone why I am crying during an episode of Teen Mom. And most of all, I am in an absolute love affair with the freedom that comes with being 20-something and 100% in control of my own destiny.

Someday I might be ready to give all of that up, if the right boy comes along and sweeps me off my accident-prone feet. Knowing me, the "sweeping" will probably result in an injury - and if he's worth it, I won't care.

♥mb.

You Are Cordially Invited to the Pity Party.

After a week of riding the struggle bus, I finally cracked.

I was driving to get my stitches taken out (the story on that is coming in my next, hopefully better thought out entry) when I called the urgent care center where I had planned to get them removed. I was informed by the apparent pre-pubescent girl on the phone that they closed a half hour earlier than I expected. To add to the stress of trying to make it there in time, I forgot my insurance card at my apartment so I had to run in and grab it before I attempted to make it to the clinic before they closed their doors.

As fate would have it, my normally accurate & easy iPhone directions were wrong, and the place was nowhere to be found. I parked outside a medical center with a similar address, walked inside, and was discouraged to find out that whereas the building housed a dentist and about a hundred other peoples' offices with "M.D." in their name title, the urgent care place was in fact not there. I pulled out my phone, noted the time was 6:29, and determined with a frustrated "HRUMPH" that I was not going to make it tonight. I got back into my car, peeled off in a huff and subsequently ran over a median. Awesome. And this is where the tears come...

And they weren't just from the frustration of having to house my stitches in my left ring finger for another day. So much had lead up to those frustrated tears. Somehow, when I get frustrated, things seem to always come to the surface. I called my mom to ask if I could take my stitches out myself (a decision I soon determined would likely result in a worse injury given my track record) and the conversation turned to so many other things:

How incredibly messy my apartment is. How I haven't seen any of my friends in Seattle since January. How challenging my soy allergy was not going well. How I had to spend all day the next day at an all-day training session. How a co-worker had had to clear with the hotel the training is at that I could bring in outside food that was safe for me to eat. How I have two weeks to plan a party I am hosting in a state that I don't live in. How, God forbid, I may have to live the entire rest of my life without being able to eat cheese.

It became a word vomit of everything and anything that has bothered me in the last few weeks. If I have one glaring fault (of which I'm sure I have, like everyone else, several), it is that I have a tendency to hold in all of my frustrations and then one, small thing sets me off and I just explode. Half the time when this happens, I don't even know why I am crying. All I know is that I am mad. Not just mad - in these moments, I feel personally offended. Like life has intentionally hurt my very fragile feelings.

I threw myself a gloriously decorated pity party. But you know what? I needed it. I let myself realize that some things suck, and that some things are really frustrating - I let it out and I feel so refreshed. Talking about it, complaining & realizing how ridiculous I sounded getting mad about things that other people would feel lucky to call their problems, everything seems a little better. All the bitterness and frustrations exited my body though those few hot, angry tears. I hung up the phone feeling cleansed, changed into a maxi dress & cardigan, sprayed myself with a new perfume and ate peanut butter flavored kid cereal for dinner.

We all lose a lot of energy trying to be strong, and trying not to talk about what is bothering us when it is perfectly ok to throw yourself a pity party. Just don't make it a week-long rager...set up for it, have a few hors d'oeuvres, throw a tantrum and then take down the streamers, vacuum up the glitter and move on with a better attitude.

♥mb.

The Tale of Stuntbird.

Back in January, I was thinking to myself that I have never once in my life been responsible for road kill (at least that I knew of). A fact, by the way, I was quite happy about, given that the mere sight of an animal lost to the road makes me incredibly sad EVERY time.

Well, on my second trek down from Seattle to Orange County in 2 weeks (never again...), it happened. I was driving a big, yellow rental truck, singing along to the Smashing Pumpkins when something hit the windshield. Terrified, I glanced in the rearview mirror to see the aftermath of my horrible act. I gasped, incredibly saddened by what had just transpired, my perfect record tarnished forever by this senseless murder. I turned to my cousin, nearly in tears, and uttered the words I had hoped I would never have to "I think I just killed a bird!"

He could have just apologized, given me a frown and a "chin up kid, it happens" but instead, he spun a story so imaginative, so fabulous, that it could only have come from someone I have known my entire life. "Nah," he responded, nonchalantly, "he was just practicing, ya know, for that big movie role."

These words, obviously nowhere near what I had expected, took me very much by surprise. "What on Earth are you talking about?" I was still in shock over what had just happened, and was now even more thrown off, not a great combination when trying to navigate a vehicle containing all of your possessions (in addition to yourself & your kin). My cousin smiled: "I think he was a stuntbird."

We spent the next half hour of our seemingly endless drive creating the life story of Stuntbird that brought him to the moment when he hit my windshield. "He just landed this amazing role", "He is the Tom Cruise of the bird world!", "I know you saw him in the rearview, but that was just part of the stunt - he had to make it look real didn't he?"

My emotional state turned from partial heartbreak to brimming with hope and a childlike state of imagination. I liked this version of the story SO much better, even if it was complete bollocks. I didn't care - I couldn't change that past event, and in that moment what mattered was creating a better present for me to be a part of.

No matter how far-fetched, the Tale of Stuntbird reminded me of fairytales and of being snuggled up in bed with a teddy bear waiting to hear a bedtime story before drifting off to dreamland. It was pure comfort in a moment when I felt sad and vulnerable and upset. It was a verbal hug, and it made all of the difference. All of it.

It reminded me that sometimes all you need to be brave is for someone to tell you you are. So much of this life is what we make of it, and what a better reality to exist in. One where the bad things seem a little better, where the monsters in the closet are figments of our imagination and where the world welcomes us with a warm embrace instead of a cold shoulder.

Don't be afraid to believe in the Stuntbirds of life. We can't always live with our heads in the clouds, but sometimes, it's the only way to live.

♥mb.

A watched pot never boils.

For anyone that has ever cooked pasta when they are REALLY hungry, you know this to be true. Even when you make sure to fill the pot with water that is already warm and add a pinch of salt in hopes of facilitating those elusive rolling bubbles, the longer you stare at it, the louder that second hand seems to tick. In those 5-10 minutes that stubborn piece of stainless steel takes to reach the desired temperature, you feel like an entire chapter in a history book stands between you and your marinara-coated dinner.

Isn't it funny though, how much faster that water seems to boil when you step away and watch some tv or strum a few chords on the guitar or try on those fabulous (yet extremely painful) shoes you just got for a killer price? It seems like time just sails by. In those minutes you weren't sending all of your will power onto that stove hoping that water might boil faster, and you weren't salivating about the meal that would soon fill that empty bowl already set out on the table. Because you stepped away and did something different, it seemed more like a fleeting moment than an eternity.

Yes, I agree - that description of the preparation of pasta is a bit dramatic. But don't act like you haven't been there. And even if you aren't a pasta eater (which if you aren't, please jump on the next flight to Italy) I can guarantee that you've been there in life - staring at that water, hugging your knees, wishing it would just boil already and making yourself miserable by only thinking about the outcome and not the present, precious moment.

There are many situations where this happens, most notably this "water watching" occurs when it comes to looking for a romantic relationship. Most of us who are single spend a lot of time , dreaming of that faceless, nameless person, wondering about who they might be and wishing beyond all wishes that they could be brought into existence by sheer willpower. Unfortunately, life doesn't always listen to us.

In fact, most of the time it ignores us. The things we pine over are often not ours until we stop worrying about them and move on to focusing on the things we can control. When we truly, really, so-SO-badly want something that it hurts, the best thing to do is to wrap it in a dust cover, put it up on a shelf and replace it with something else that isn't quite as old, worn out and overused.

Walk away from that stove (it was getting a little too warm over there anyway) and ignite yourself. View that unemployment not as a failure, but as an opportunity to train for a 5K like you've always wanted to. View your relationship status not as "single" but as the freedom to meet as many people (and have as much fun) as humanly possible. View missing your friends not as sad and lonely but as a great way to build relationships with the people who are close to you now (and by remembering that "distance" is only a physical thing).

Whatever you do, STOP watching that water. It isn't going to boil any faster with you staring at it. I guarantee you that the second you step away it will seem like no time at all before that first bubble reaches the surface.

♥mb.

Why it's ok to be selfish.

The word "selfish" has gotten itself a bad rep. Whereas society attributes this word to the likes of the Jersey Shore cast and Paris Hilton, I attribute it to happiness and the ability to embrace life. I truly believe that one of they keys to being happy is being able to accept that it's ok to be selfish. Dictionary.com defines selfish as:

devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one's own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others

Taken literally, this pertains to people most of us don't want to be around. The kid behind the wheel of a new BMW in high school, the professor in college who didn't grade your papers because he was lazy, the people who talk on their cell phones about personal matters in public...[insert example here]. "Selfish" isn't generally something you hear used as a compliment. You don't love your best friend because she is so darn selfish or admire that celebrity because they are so obsessed with number one. But if you aren't letting yourself be selfish, you aren't being true to yourself.

I have news for you: we are all human and because of that, we are ALL inherently selfish. It is arguable that everything we do in life comes back to selfishness - I am reminded of an episode of Friends I saw a while ago where Phoebe and Joey got into an argument that no human act is truly selfless, because in doing something nice for someone else, you get a good feeling from it, so in a way it is serving you as well. Which, by the way, is totally true. 

What separates the truly "selfish" people from the important people in all of our lives is simply the way they choose to apply selfishness to their own lives. One person may choose to use this word to steal from someone, another may choose to use it to make themselves feel good by doing the right thing. Some selfish acts are one dimensional, others are two dimensional - the added dimension being the happiness of someone else on top of yourself. If you can bring someone else into your selfishness and make their day better as a result, you are doing it right.

I am in my mid-twenties (terrifying!) and I always advise my friends that this is the time in life where we really get to be 100% selfish and that by golly, if you don't take advantage of it you are going to regret it. For the most part, we don't have spouses, we don't have dependents to claim on our taxes or obligations that mean we can't take off for a weekend to Santa Barbara or San Francisco or New York City. Our money is ours, our time is ours and as long as we are going to work 9-5, the rest of our lives are completely and totally up to US. Pretty powerful no?

The concept applies to people all across the board:

   If you are a 20-something like me debating whether or not to make a move, DO IT. The only things we regret in life are the chances we don't take. Travel. Learn to cook. Spend entire Sundays by yourself working on making your apartment a place you are proud of.

   If you are a student, blow off studying every once in a while. The things you remember from college are never the tests that you take or the classes you are half-awake through. Watch your roommate sing in a school-wide contest. Go stargazing in the quad instead of writing a term paper. 

   If you are a mom and stretch yourself so thin that you start to lose yourself, take a step back and think about you. Go get a pedicure. Get a latte. Read a magazine. Take a half hour to yourself for everyday to do what YOU want. Not what someone else wants you to do.

   If you are a dad and work hard all the time to support your family, spend Saturday mornings reading with a dog by your side. Play Nintendo Wii for 3 hours. Drink some Maccallum's 18.

No matter who you are, be selfish with other people. No relationship is going to function properly if there is an imbalance - make the things you want known and make them happen. I can guarantee that no relationship is stronger than one in which both of the people are getting exactly what they want out of life, but doing it together. 

I am not suggesting that you only think about yourself every moment of your existence, but I am saying that if you don't think about yourself at all you are selling yourself short. It's ok to eat Ramen noodles because you spent too much money on that Marc by Marc Jacobs bag you've been coveting for months. It's ok to sleep in until 12:30 because you stayed up watching How I Met Your Mother until the wee hours of the morning. It's ok to say things other people might not like if it's what you truly believe.

Everything in life is about balance. And putting yourself first sometimes is part of that balance.

So do it.


♥mb.