New York trip prep day 3

Monday afternoon I went over to my friend's house to get my hair cut in preparation for the trip.

When I moved to Colorado 8 years ago I met this really awesome, funny, beautiful girl. I found out she was a hair stylist and gladly cut people's hair in her kitchen. Well, I was new and didn't want to put the effort into finding a salon. Plus, I 've never really been that picky about my haircut.

So I sat in her chair for the first time...and have never looked back.

She is probably the most talented hair stylist I've ever been to. Usually when you get a cute cut and time passes it starts to look a little raggedy. I don't know what it is, but every time she cuts my hair, as time goes by it just looks better and better.

And I love the fact that we've stayed close enough that I can come over and get my hair cut, then have dinner with her family, then play in the grass with her two little boys (4 and 2). Who else gets that kind of special treatment from their stylist?

New York trip prep day 2

I  told myself that I would attempt to cool it on the scheduling of this trip. I have been known to over plan a vacation and not allow any free moments for relaxation or spontaneity.

But I just couldn't help myself.


We're only in the city for a few days and there are so many things to see and do that I would hate to get there and spend time schlepping around and looking at each other and asking what we should see next. Or even worse, end up eating at some crappy chain restaurant because we didn't take the time to find somewhere amazing to eat. That would be a real tragedy in my book.

So here it is, our plan for the trip. I know it seems a bit detailed, but that's what happens when my type A personality gets a hold of a spreadsheet. Our tickets are purchased and our reservations are made. The good thing about me is that the moment a trip begins my red personality morphs to yellow and I have no problem dropping the schedule entirely.

Is there anything totally awesome that we've missed in our exhaustive research? Something we MUST add to our trip?

New york trip prep day 1

In one week the ear doctor and I will be leaving for our trip to New York and I am R-E-A-L-L-Y excited. There are very few things I love more in life than being away from work with my best friend doing things we've never done before.

In an attempt to convey my excitement I'm doing to do a series about how we're getting ready.

This morning the ear doctor and I decided that we're going to start practicing talking like native New Yorkers. Unfortunately, the most exposure we have to real New York dialogue comes mainly from Seinfeld and movies featuring Brooklyn Mobsters.

So this morning there was a whole lot of "yadda, yadda, yadda" and "fogetaboutit" goin on in our house.

Clearly, we need help.



What other lingo should we be practicing to avoid standing out like the country bumpkins that we are?

Age appropriate

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting in Panera eating my lunch alone at a table for two. I do this about once a week. Unlike 14 year old Katie now I actually really enjoy sitting by myself in a crowded lunchroom. I like to watch the elderly couples consume their bowls of soup and enjoy the comfortable silence that only people who've lived together for 60 years can create. I like to watch the young moms attempt to wrangle their toddlers and convince themselves that the $5 peanut butter and jelly sandwich that sits uneaten doesn't annoy the crap out of them. I like to see the other people like me, taking a break from work, eating a meal alone.

But yesterday as I was sitting there at my usual table I looked up and made eye contact with an elderly gentlemen. I was about to politely look away, when I noticed the corners of his mouth turn up. Then he gave me the most perfect wink I've ever seen.

It wasn't creepy and it wasn't paternal in the slightest. It was flattering and I actually felt myself blush the tiniest bit.


What is it about the men of the greatest generation? They effortlessly wear a fedora without any of the pretense that radiates off most 20-something hipsters who attempt to don the accessory. They seem strong, independent, honest, real.


Or maybe it's just that my own grandpa is an amazing man, and I transfer my perception of him onto every like-aged gentlemen I see?

Getting the timing right

Last night when the ear doctor came home I was sitting on the couch, watching Rizzoli and Isles unpicking 3 seams. I've been working on creating a masterpiece of a dress and it just wasn't coming out right. The gathers were all uneven, the plaid pattern wasn't matching up perfectly, my top stitching couldn't walk a straight line if the chief of police pulled it over and asked it to.

I'd cocooned myself on our big leather couch with pillows stacked up to either ear, my feet propped up and my body covered with rumpled, yellow-and-brown plaid, poor quality work.


And I was feisty.



The weird thing about me is that sometimes when I'm feeling feisty I don't even know it. My emotions work about 3 times faster than my reason.

So when the ear doctor walked in the door and started asking me what was wrong I snapped at him. I unintentionally ignored him. I finish unpicking my seams, tossed my seeming failure of creation aside and went to look at my garden. Which is FULL of weeds. And the tomato plant that is actually producing fruit had slumped off it's cage and those green little beauties were sitting in the mud. After stomping around the garden a few time I came in and was enraged by the dishes we'd left linger in the sink from the day before. I testily grabbed the scrubber and started tackling the pile.

And the ear doctor through this? Looked at me like I was insane. Probably because I was. My brain had yet to catch up with my temper. When he, again, kindly asked what was wrong with me I totally lost my mind. I was mean to my sweetheart. I was snarling for about 3 minutes...until I looked up at his perfectly sky blue eyes and my brain caught up to my soul.

I wasn't mad at him at all. I was stressed out with my job and defensive because I knew I was taking my fury out on the one person in the world who never deserves that. And I started hysterically laughing at myself.

Two minutes later I was sobbing in his arms and apologizing for the mismatch in timing from my heart to my head.


I ate some dinner and put myself to bed early.


And at 3 in the morning when I couldn't fall to sleep I decided it was the perfect time wage an epic steamroller battle.

Do you know the game steamroller?


Anyway, the point is that I'm learning to work out the timing between my emotions and my reason. Trying to feel slower and think faster.

Birthday Recap

I'm going to try hard not to make this a brag-about-my-awesome-husband post, but I don't really see that there's any way around that.

Simply put: he is amazing and made my birthday perfect.

Friday afternoon we went out for lunch at my very favorite sandwich spot in Denver. Fantastic. Their hot ham and swiss is so melty and delicious that juice runs down my chin every time. Then, we packed up and headed to the mountains. He'd found us the cutest little cabin tucked beside a pond up in the beautiful Rocky Mountains above Idaho Springs. We fished, caught big beautiful rainbow trout and grilled them up for dinner. We watched the sun go down and he brought out a little, adorable lemon curd cake and sang me happy birthday.

Saturday morning we slept in. The first thing I did when I woke up was run over to my phone to see if anyone had already called and left a message on my phone. It was then that I realized my phone was totally dead and I'd forgotten the charger! TRAGEDY! My birthday is the one day a year I keep that phone with me all day and answer all the incoming well-wishing calls.Bummer.

We packed up our stuff and headed farther up the mountain to Echo Lake. This place was beautiful. Stunning. If you haven't been to Colorado before and want the full experience, go here. It is breathtaking. We drove up the highest paved road in North America to the top of Mt. Evans which stands at 14,240 feet. It was at the top of this mountain that he handed me a letter he'd written. A letter expressing his heart.

Then, he handed me a letter written by my mom.

Then one from my dad.

Then he explained that he'd hacked into my email account and send out emails to most of my close friends and family asking them to write me a letter telling me what they thought about me. All day long he kept handing me letter after letter from people I love most in this entire world. Each one brought laughter and tears. Seriously, I don't think I've ever felt more love.

I slid each one into a plastic protector in a beautiful green album.

It is something I will CHERISH for the rest of my life. One of the 4 things I will grab if my house is ever on fire.

After the mountain climb we drove home and he took me to dinner at Fruition. If you ever plan a trip to Denver, this place should be on your list of places to eat. It is fantastic. And I know you have to get a reservation 2 months in advance so the ear doctor has probably been planning this forever.

After the best meal in recent memory, we came home and I opened my last letters and his gift. His gift was a new Vera Bradley trip kit. Inside was a travel book for New York! He got us tickets to be in New York for almost a week over Labor Day! I have never been to the city before and can't wait to go!

All in all, a FANTASTIC way to celebrate my first 30 years of living on this planet.

Unexpected mortality check

Today for lunch I sat in the middle of a crowded fast-casual restaurant at a small table all alone.

I was surrounded by moms with strollers and elderly retired couples. There were teenagers on dates and groups of girls shopping for cheap clothes.

And I sat alone enjoying my spinach salad quite contentedly. Well, the salad was bit overdressed and for $7.50 I had hoped for a few more blue cheese crumbles.

I was really pretty perfectly happy until I decided to aspirate the balsamic fig dressing. Vinegar trying to make it's way into your lungs? Not a great feeling.

As I started coughing and hacking I looked around to make sure I wasn't bothering someone.

And guess what? No one even glanced my way!

I wonder if those happy lunch goers would have let me DIE sitting right there in the middle of the crowded dining room?

The thought was really creepy...and it made me remember why I don't really like eating at Noodles & Co.

Busted

I have a deep, dark, guilty secret.

I freakin love Kraft singles.

I love their slightly rubbery texture, their over salted flavor and I take great joy in peeling off that clingy plastic.  Now, don't get me wrong, I love a good fancy cheese too...but the kraft singles will always hold a place in my heart.

When we were little my parents bought my sister and I the cheese. We would sneak slices all day long and thought my mom never knew about our pilfered prize...because we stuffed the plastic wrappers between the cushions of the couch.

When she sat in that chair and heard the tell-tale crinkle of plastic wrappers her brains exploded. She ripped the couch apart and picked out every single piece of greasy plastic.

Kraft singles were banned in our house from that moment forward.

This morning I woke up and found this note, lovingly left for me by my husband on the kitchen counter:

I hope he doesn't decide to ban Nature's Valley granola bars from the house, because I really REALLY like them...

Just a little jealous

Last week we found out that a good friend of ours got laid off from his job.

He and his wife went away for a long weekend to celebrate their anniversary and the morning he got back to work they told him not to come in anymore.

I would totally freak out if this happened to me. I know it's always a possibility, but it just seems crazy to have your security just uprooted so dramatically. To his credit, he's totally taking it like a champ. For the last week he has been a stay at home dad, taking care of their 10 month old baby 24 hours a day.

On Wednesday his wife told me that he was totally going crazy. She asked the ear doctor if he could take her husband golfing this morning. And, since the ear doctor is really great at service and sacrifice he rearranged his schedule and was up bright and early this morning organizing his golf bag and cleaning out his soft spiked shoes.

Instead of getting to go out to the links, I had to haul my sorry buns to work.

To make it worse, my commute takes me right by a huge reservoir where people were out water skiing on glassy water.

And then, to really emphasize the fact that I'm working and not having fun I had to drive under people launch hot air balloons!

I know I should be grateful to have a job, and not feel any jealousy at all for someone who unexpectedly lost his.  I know that to the depths of my soul. I get it that I am SO lucky to have such a great job that I really do like 90% of the time.

But wouldn't it be fun to golf, or water ski, or ride in a balloon today?

Time rolls on

I hate it when I find myself being a total cliche.

Up until last week I was totally fine with the idea of turning 30 next week. Excited even.

But this week, as I calm my mind and lay in my big fluffy bed attempting to fall asleep a little bit of dread washes over me.

30?

How did that happen.

And why do I still feel like I'm 22? Will I always feel that old?


Maybe it's because I haven't had a baby yet?


How old do you feel?

I'm havering to you

Last night I took the teenage girls from my church group to a free concert in the park. We got them awesome pizza, every flavor of Izze soda we could find, laid out blankets to lounge and I even had red velvet cupcakes to top off the evening.

The performers, however, were a little...well...not what your average 15 year old girl wants to listen to. It was a "band" of 3 brothers singing traditional Irish songs. None of us knew any of the songs so we just kind of listened and giggled and made fun of the lead singer's long stringy man-ponytail.

Half way through the performance one of the girls got up and started crazy hippie dancing to the songs. So we all followed along. It was hilarious, but I wanted to make sure the girls felt free to be silly. I wanted them to let their self-consciousness go and realize that no one cares how you look. So I acted a bit of a fool. I felt like I was a 16 year old girl hanging out with my friends.

The concert drew to a close and the band struck up for it's final number. Within the first few bars I knew we were in for a treat. I would walk 500 miles by The Proclaimers. A song I will always know. A song that brings me squarely to my middle school days. I remember being 13 years old and getting that song on a movie soundtrack compilation disk. I remember having my friends over to my house, putting the disk in the computer drive, turning off all the lights in the office and jumpdancing around the room with flashlights. Over and over and over again until we were sweaty and doubled over with laughter-induced stomach cramps.


And so when I looked around and realized that not a single one of the girls that was with me last night had ever heard the song before I just shook my head in awe.

And realized that, yes, I will be turning 30 next month...and it's beginning to show.

Muscle Memory

Last night after work I came home and needed a break.

A break from thinking and feeling and being frustrated and being anxious and being nervous.


So I put my old gross crocs, an old beat up pair of shorts and went out to harvest food out of my garden. Someone in my neighborhood must be feeding the birds like crazy because there are about 100 times more birds trying to eat my salad greens than there ever have been. As a result we draped netting over the top of my garden. So now, when I go in I have to crawl on all fours to stay under the bird netting.

At first I thought having to crawl around would be totally horrible. I thought it would hurt my back and scrape up my knees.

But guess what? I totally love it. It reminds me of the tent that my sister got for her birthday one year. It had a fitted sheet on the bottom so you could make it right on top of your mattress and always feel like you are sleeping in a cave.

It reminds me of when I was 10 and would climb into the closet under the stairs to read the Chronicles of Narnia by the light of my favorite pink flashlight.

It reminds me of climbing into my 4 year old niece Charlotte's pink princess tent while we play make believe.


Turns out that almost every memory I have of crawling into small places is warm and familiar and friendly. 

Getting it right

Yesterday the ear doctor and I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary.

Did you know that the traditional gift to give your spouse for the 4th anniversary is linen or silk? Usually we try to honor the tradition in some way, but this year I totally dropped the ball. Which is a total bummer because the ear doctor could have really used a new maroon silk smoking jacket and coordinating ascot...

This year my husband got me milk delivery from a honest-to-goodness milk man. From now on, when I wake up on Friday mornings I'll be able to go out to my porch, open up that shiny metal box and find perfect, fresh, hormone-free dairy products and eggs produced by animals that actually live in my own state.

How does this tie in with the traditional 4th year anniversary gift? Well, he got a carton of Silk (soy milk), emptied it out, cut a trap door in the back of the carton and glued the logo of the dairy that delivers to our neighborhood on the inside. I knew immediately what that meant.


Before he gave me the gift, he tried to explain it to some people. They just didn't understand what could possibly be romantic about giving someone diary delivery for their anniversary. They thought he should be getting a box of Godiva chocolates and a couple dozen long stemmed roses or something.

But Godiva chocolates once made me spend a weekend wracked with uncontrollable vomit and roses, to me, are more of a flower meant to stay in the garden.


Romance, to me, is knowing your spouse so well that you know exactly what will totally knock their socks off. Which for me? Is totally a milk man.

Happy 4th!

Want to know what the ear doctor looks like when I totally suprise him with an unexpeted picnic in public to commemorate our 4th wedding anniversary?


I thought you'd never ask!

Last night after dinner with my man I suggested we take a leisurley stroll through downtown Denver. As we walked toward our favorite bridge he noticed a beat up box that was kind of opened a bit with light coming out. He reached down to look at it and saw his name on it. When he opened it, there was a balloon, candles and chocolate cake inside.

We sat on the bridge, ate cake, danced to the same song as our "first dance" (I've got a crush on you).

I love this guy like CRAZY!

Acting like Frenchies

The ear doctor and I try our very hardest not to watch TV on Monday nights. Monday nights are special for us. For talking. For laughing. For family.

Last night I got off work late because I had to stay and attend a really frustrating meeting. I stopped by the market to get some fish for dinner and a pre-made salad. It was just one of those nights.


We made the dinner and I could literally feel the stress rolling off my back. By the time I was sopping up the delicious buttery fish oil from my plate with a chewy slice of sourdough I was ready to laugh.


We spent a hour playing keep away from the dog with an old chewed up basketball. We laid in our pretty green grass that just months ago was a bare patch of dead dirt. We decided to grab the leash and walk the dog 2 blocks away to our favorite gelato place. We sat on a bench and enjoyed zabaglione (which I pronounce as zag-a-ba-lonie) and raspberry sorbet.


At which point the ear doctor turned to me and said, "let's go home and watch Harry and the Hendersons"


A perfect way to spend the evening before we celebrate our 4th wedding anniversary.

adventures in pet ownership

Last night the ear doctor and I went over to a friend's house to return their grass edger and we ended up sitting around chatting for a bit.

These particular friends have the most beautiful little puppy. A vizsla. The puppy and I have almost the same color hair. They love their little puppy more than anyone I've ever met loves their dog and because she happens to be a pretty perfect specimen of the breed, they've decided to start showing her.

And I didn't know this, but when you show dogs you can't get them spayed.

Which means that sometimes your dog has her period.

Which is why last night their puppy was wearing a pink plaid flannel diaper with a jumbo maxi-pad slid inside.


Maybe you're more used to seeing a dog wearing a diaper...but I sure wasn't. All I could think of was how gross it would be to take care of a dog during her "time of the year" (which I found out only really happens every 6 months or so)

And I thought, "I'd never do something gross like that for a DOG"



That was, of course, until this morning when my dog had a long gross piece of grass coming out of his butt hole that he couldn't shake loose.

What did I do? I put my hand inside the poo bag, got a grip of the piece of grass and pulled the long slippery thing out of him.


I didn't even hesitate.


Who's the gross one now?

Friday night the ear doctor and I went out to see Super 8. 

The whole time I just sat there totally enthralled with the story telling. About 8 minutes into the movie the ear doctor turned to me and said, "this is like Goonies" and I said, "or the Sandlot." Both of which are probably in my top 20 movies of all time.

I literally gasped a couple of times at the beautiful camera work: the reflection in the gas, the slow closeup on the soldiers shuffling boots, the turn of the gas station sign obscuring our view of what exactly was going on.

And the music choices for the movie? Perfect. I left the theater singing My Sharona out loud, thus making the sweet abuelita standing with me in the bathroom line just a little bit nervous.

Let's not even talk about how great the costumes and hair were.

I totally nerded out over the whole thing and it made me think two thoughts. First, I MUST get myself a Super8 camera. How great are those old grainy images?!?!Second, I'm so glad I used those 3 credit hours of undergrad taking Intro to Film. I probably never would have noticed the beauty without taking that class.

a whole new world

So turns out I should listen to my sister more often.

She said I would love falafel...but I just couldn't wrap my head around eating garbanzo beans...or chick peas as my mom taught me.

I've tried hummus in all it's myrid of forms and found it gross and grainy and completely unpalatable.


But, falafel? COMPLETELY different. Divine. Wonderful.

AMAZING!

Moving

Right now my little sister is throwing the last few boxes into the back of a moving van and hauling her family from the sweltering heat of summer in St. Louis to the promise of sub-zero winters of Minnesota.

She's closing the door on the perfect little 100 year old row house that they shed blood sweat and tears over to renovate from top to bottom in just 3 years. She's saying goodbye to the amazing friends who loved and supported her for the last 4 years...probably the hardest 4 of her life. She's taking off and driving north without knowing if they'll have a house to live in when they get there.

And while I know she's probably excited for the next phase of her life, I can't help but be a little bit heartbroken for her today.


The day we pack up our little house and move away is going to rip my heart in two.


Neither of us were really built for change.

Missing Out

My little sister and her husband are in Orlando right now enjoying a full week at Disneyworld. I'm sure my little 4 year old niece Charlotte is having the time of her life. Surrounded by her cousins, meeting princesses, getting to eat as much junk food as humanly possible...that's the stuff of dreams for a 4 year old.

And I was getting pretty bummed that I was sitting in my cubical, in rainy, cold, gloomy Denver, working crazy long hours and missing out.

So I went to weather.com and checked was it was like in Orlando.


Over 90 degrees...yikes!



Then I imagined how I'd feel if I were in Orlando, in 90 degree weather, holding my 2 year old nephew's little heater body while we stand on hard black pavement waiting in line to meet Lightning McQueen....


...and I felt a tad better about missing the fun.