“No, that is NOT a baby bump” AKA sometimes people are the worst.

Over the last few months I feel like I’ve seen quite a few stories online about body shaming, and a myriad of positive responses about how women are supposed to love their bodies, be comfortable in their own skin, and just live their best lives without having to worry about the weirdo trolls who make asinine comments about weight, looks etc. And I totally agree! And I kept thinking how blessed I was to be in such a supportive community, full of strong and vibrant women who are positive and uplifting, and quirky and wonderful… and how glad I was to be in my 30s, and to not have to deal with the middle school/ high school drama, and how great I was feeling in my body, and how I was at such a great place in my life… And then a random woman asked me if I was pregnant…

Let me set the scene: It was a Monday, and I had just finished teaching a barre class, I was pretty sweaty and  I was wearing the brightest neon purple yoga pants in all the land. I wasn’t looking glamorous by any means, but considering that I had just finished teaching, and was going to be taking another class in a few hours, I wasn’t concerned with my overall appearance. No make-up/ yoga pants is a pretty common look for me on days that I’m teaching and running errands. I did have to stop by my work for a second to bring lunch for my roommate/ co-worker, so I ran in and dropped off her salad, told her I added some tomatoes from the garden, flipped through the mail, and was getting ready to leave when the woman at the counter out of nowhere said “Oh is that a baby bump you are sporting?” UM. WHAT?   I know that I’ve never been super great at controlling my facial expressions and I’m sure the look of confusion, shock and “I want to punch you in the face” probably came across, as I somewhat stammered “um… no… No it isn’t.” And I was kind of expecting a look of embarrassment to come over her as she apologized, but she just looked at me and simply said “Oh. Well you were kind of gesturing towards your stomach, and it looks like you definitely could be pregnant, so I just assumed by your body language that you were.” No apology, no embarrassment, no remorse.

This was the part that really killed me, because sure, it’s bad enough for someone to ask you if you are Pregnant on a Monday morning right after you finish working out, but for her to then try to justify why she even said something, and pretty much stand by her ridiculous faux pas was something I wasn’t really ready for. And everything about her facial expression and her tone made it very clear that she felt entitled to make a comment like that, and it almost inferred that rather than her being embarrassed for making a mistake, I should be embarrassed about my body because how was she to know? Clearly it wasn’t her fault for opening her mouth, it was my fault for looking the way that I did.

Now, I was brought up in the generation of “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Which is fascinating to me, because the older I get, the more I find that the mother’s who were preaching this sort of behavior to us, are the ones who feel entitled to tell us exactly what they think with this unfiltered bluntness, and seem to have no concept of what is rude and what is socially acceptable. It’s like they think they are doing you this huge favor. HOW IS THIS A THING?

I left the shop feeling baffled, and chubby, and oh so irritated. Let me just say, that I don’t have issues with my body. As a woman, I’m quite aware of what areas I could work on, I know that I have a genetic disposition for German hips, I know how quickly my metabolism is working (or not working) and what I put into my body. I know all of these things, and I exercise regularly, and I drink a lot of water, and I eat pretty healthy… but I also eat cheese. I eat cheese, and I drink beer, and I choose all of my choices. I take 3-4 barre classes a week, I teach yoga, I walk, I run occasionally, and I am 100% comfortable in my own skin. Yes, I could work out more, I could eat less, I could cut out alcohol, I could do a LOT of things, but I am not currently, nor have I ever been bogged down by issues of my weight and low self-esteem. I’m very self aware of my own body, I dress appropriately, I love my sense of style, I don’t get hung up on things like sizes, and I embrace the fact that I have a few curves.  Overall, I think I have a pretty healthy outlook… and then something like this happens, and though it is mostly just irritating, and rude, it still put a microscopic crack in my positive body image.

Me, being sassy, living my best life.

Me, being sassy, living my best life.

And here I where I go on a little side tangent… I am 30, and I’ve recently started getting back into the dating scene. Every man I’ve dated in my adult life has at some point in conversation made a comment like “I don’t understand why you are still single!” Which I understand, is supposed to be this flattering, read between the lines, because I think you are awesome kind of compliment, but I also find it frustrating because what am I supposed to say to that? “Well… if I knew, I probably wouldn’t be single…” which just seems to confuse them even more, and really the simple answer is. Well, no one asks me out, and all the guys I ask out say no… so what is a girl supposed to do? And then it’s like “Well are they fishing for something? Are try wondering if I’m secretly crazy?” I mean, is being single SUCH a weird thing? Do I actually need to say “ I just haven’t met the right person yet, and lucky for you, because now we are on this date, and we get to try and figure out if you are the right person.” Overall, it’s not a question that keeps me up at night, I don’t lie awake and ask the universe “WHY AM I SINGLE? I JUST DON’T GET IT!” Because I’ve always been under the impression that it would happen when it happened and I have bigger things to worry about that finding a soul mate. ANYWAY… So I’m sitting in the shop and this woman has just looked at me and asked about my non-existent baby bump, and is kind of giving me this knowing look of like “isn’t this the best time of your life?” And her smugness is just pissing me off even more, because actually no, it is not my dream in life to be a mother, and yes it is the best time of my life, and it has nothing to do with the apparent burrito belly I’m currently sporting… and I’m not self conscious about my body, and I don’t care what other people think, and then with this one fleeting comment, suddenly the only thought running through my head is “Oh my god. This is why I’m single… all the men out there think I’m pregnant. This is why no one wants to date me.”

And I hate that my brain went there, even if it was for just a second. Microscopic chip, and in comes the self doubt.

Of course, I called all the friends who I knew would be offended, I vented, they consoled and told me things like “A) you don’t, and B) its your body, and it is highly inappropriate for her to make comments about it. Even if you were 9 months pregnant, if she doesn’t know you, it is NOT ok to assume and make comments, and she is insane, and people are dumb. Its never ok to say something like that.” I was consoled by their kindness, by the fact that we all agreed that people are crazy, and just tried to brush it off.

And I did. I opted not to take it personally, I opted not to dwell (I opted to do a few more core exercises) and rather than letting the situation bring me down, I decided to laugh about it. I wasn’t about to let what some stranger said about my stomach get inside my head. Flash forward a week and a half, I was back teaching barre, and I decided to tell the anecdote to my class. One of my favorite teaching tactics is to tell personal stories when we are right in the midst of doing something hard. It takes everyone’s mind off of what we are doing, it lightens the mood, and it’s a great way to bring a little authenticity to the class. I’m sharing about my life, I’m making myself vulnerable, we are on this journey together kind of stuff. I wasn’t looking for them to say “oh no, you don’t look pregnant” I was more hoping to distract them and then encourage them to keep their cores activated by saying “now everyone engage your core. Your faux baby bump, if you will.”   Everyone laughed, we made it through the hard part of class, the mood was light, and things were going great.

As we were cleaning up the mats and putting the props away most of my students were making comments about “I can’t believe someone said that to you! People can be so rude!” and I was appreciative, and thrilled to be in a group of women who seemed to understand that there are things that you just don’t say out loud to people. And then one of my students pulled me aside and said “Well… don’t be offended by this, but I HAVE noticed that you’ve gained quite a bit of weight, and it’s all kind of right around your waist and hips, and quite frankly, I think that woman kind of had a point. You do look like you could be pregnant.”

One of my students actually said this to me… I couldn’t move, I couldn’t blink, I couldn’t breath. Finally, I forced an awkward smile and continued cleaning up the studio, and hoped that I didn’t start crying before everyone left. I mean, I understand that I strive to have all of my classes be a safe environment for sharing… But really? I have never once in my life taken a class and afterwards  felt like “ You know what? That was a great class, and I’m feeling awesome, but my teacher is looking a little chubby, I should probably just let her know. Just in case she is under the impression that she is super fit…” WHO SAYS STUFF LIKE THAT? I mean, apparently I know who says stuff like that… this student of mine apparently says stuff like that… but I was so taken aback. I wasn’t telling that story so the whole class would tell me how good I looked, I wasn’t looking for them to compliment me, I was trying to open up and be vulnerable and show that I was human, and rather than a “thanks for class.” I got a “well you DID gain weight.” Again, it was this accusatory tone of “well if you didn’t look this way, people wouldn’t make comments.” I took several deep breaths. And then I took several more deep breaths. AND THEN SHE CAME BACK OVER TO ME AND RE-ITERATED HER POINT. You guys, I can’t make this stuff up. She actually came back over and said “I really hope you weren’t offended.   I know that you are really very strong… but you’ve definitely put on some weight, and I can see why that woman said that to you. You look like you could be pregnant! She had a point!” And then she walked out the door. (because when you pre-empt an offensive comment with I hope you weren’t offended, that totally lets you off the hook, right? )

And how am I even supposed to react to that? IS THIS REAL LIFE? (Yes, yes it is.) I sat on the floor of the studio and took a few moments somewhat wondering “Did that really just happen?” and I just couldn’t figure it out. (I still can’t…) I mean… really, in what universe is it ok to just casually tell someone you’ve noticed they’ve gotten chubby and maybe look pregnant? Is this a thing? Is the whole world assuming that I’m just not aware of my own body, and that suddenly it needs to be pointed out to me how I look? You know, just in case I didn’t know?  WHO ARE THESE WOMEN?

I am still baffled by the situation… I mean, how else am I supposed to react? Was it hurtful? Sure. Was I offended? Absolutely. But also… I suppose that in some weird way I am grateful… I’m grateful that I can see this type of behavior, and know that as I age, I don’t want to be the type of woman who doesn’t have a filter. I don’t’ want to be the type of woman who feels entitled to speak her mind at the expense of other’s feelings. I don’t want to be the woman who is brazen enough to tell her yoga teacher that she’s put on a few pounds, I don’t want to be rude.

I’m not saying that I’m perfect, I’m not saying that I haven’t inadvertently said hurtful things to people in the past… and I’m sure I’ll say plenty of stupid things, and continue to screw up, and be flawed… but at the very least, I’m going to try and stick with the motto from my childhood about only saying nice things… (unless you make comments about my weight… and then I’ll just write about it on my blog.)

because it’s April, and springtime, and a Wednesday… and don’t we all just need a poem today?

I got a text message from a good friend yesterday asking me about my blog… Every excuse about why I’m not writing more sounds a little contrived, a bit shallow… because everyone is busy, everyone has meetings and book clubs, and piles of laundry, gardens to tend, plans to make, people to see. And the only real answer I can give is that sometimes, when you are out living life, it’s challenging to slow down enough to write about it. But, that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it… there is pretty much a constant dialog in my head, ideas, recipes, snippets of life, anecdotes about the dog, photos from countless restaurants. This, like everything else, is a work in progress.

And because it is Poetry Month, and because it is yoga day, and just because… here is this.
~~~~~~~~

This morning as I was heading to the shower I started to think about what sort of conversation I wanted to have today in my yoga class. I like to think of my classes as conversations more than anything else… because no matter what I plan in advance, I always come in and ask my students how they are feeling, what they want to work on, and we start the conversation there, and what develops each week is a little different. As I spent the first few moments in the shower trying to wake up and embrace the day, I was thinking a lot about feeling grounded, and as I let the ideas of balance and rootedness marinate in my pre-coffee brain I couldn’t help but think about Vrksasana. (tree pose)  In that moment I started mentally reciting a few lines from a poem I wrote several years ago when I was applying to graduate school, and then re-wrote a few years later when I re-applied to graduate school… And there is was, my class, my conversation.

Of course, I was almost late to class, because when I went to find the poem I realized it was saved on my external hard drive, and as I pulled up to the studio there was a gathering of students waiting outside the door.  And these amazing students of mine, were chatting in the sunshine, waiting patiently as I frantically waved at them as I circled the block trying to find a parking spot, and as I ran up to the door I told them this was all part of my class plan, spending a little time in nature, embracing the springtime, finding our breath. They all laughed as we filed into the studio, and I made a full confession… “I’m running late because of a poem… but it’s for you, because it’s April, and springtime, and a Wednesday… and don’t we all just need a poem today?” and really, I think all of them did.

And so we settled into class, talking about being grounded, about finding balance in our lives, in our bodies. We talked of trees and how their toes dig deep into the earth, how they stay grounded through so much change, season after season. We laid on our backs and felt the support of the mat beneath our spines and we visited our first tree pose of the day. I watched as they firmly flexed their feet, pressing them into nothingness, watched as their shoulders slid into alignment, encouraged them to engage every muscle, activate their core strength, and from this very supported place, to create a muscle memory. To feel the length in the spine, the support, and to grow from there.

We moved towards standing, played with balance, played with strength… then we warmed up our feet, talked about our roots and tried it all again… this time with a little more confidence, a little more stability, feet feeling alive, bodies feeling warm… I asked them to turn to face the wall, so they could shut out distractions, and we settled back into tree. “Listen to your bodies here” I said, “remember how this felt  when we were on the mat, engage that muscle memory.”.  And then I had them turn around, because in life there are always going to be distractions dancing in your peripheral vision. Because that is how life works, and the challenge is being able to stay rooted enough through it all. And you know what? We wobbled a little bit more this way… but we were just being authentic… because even the tallest and strongest trees sway in the breeze. And what more can we ask from ourselves than to be authentic?

From here, we gathered in the center of the room, for the pose we had been building towards… standing in a circle, touching hands, relying on our neighbors for strength and for support we traveled through our final version of tree pose. Allowing our arms to reach up over head, hands pressed into our neighbors, branches growing toward the sky, our own little oak grove.  And I loved standing in that circle, watching the students laugh, watching them come out of their comfort zones, leaving behind fear, and blossoming into a cohesive group. Supporting each other, growing together… And they all got it… THIS is what our conversation is about today. This right here…

And as they settled into Savasana, as they began to embrace a different kind of groundedness, as they surrendered all of their thoughts and hang ups, as they gave themselves a few precious moments to let it all go, and to absorb all the benefits of our class, as they let our conversation resonate, I finally read for them my poem. The poem that started our conversation.
~~~~~~~~

 

I knew that I liked the earth–dark brown and rich with life–

but I didn’t know that I loved it

until I bit into a carrot, freshly harvested,

the taste of soil still lingering

This is the flavor of life.

 

I knew that I liked falling asleep next to you

feeling your chest rise and fall with the rhythm of your breath

listening to your heart as I drifted off…

But I didn’t know I loved waking up in your arms

until our first night apart… the bitter sweetness of solitude.

 

I used to be impartial to the wind,

until I heard it whispering through the aspen trees

and suddenly I was home.

 

I always knew I loved trees and their quiet strength,

but I didn’t understand it until I started practicing Vrksasana,

and the strength of the tree, the rootedness,

became my own.

 

I just remembered the rain

walking with you, hand in hand down the busy street

the darkened asphalt peaking out beneath the bright

fallen leaves. Flashes of crimson and saffron, the wildest orange

the wet slick grey… we were happiest then,

in the autumn, falling in love on our way to the grocery store.

 

I knew I loved the sun, being solstice born,

we are kindred, forever…

but I forgot I loved the moon,

I didn’t appreciate its constant pull on my heartstrings

until the first night in the new house, I saw the moon rise over the garden,

her beams reaching around my curtains

and flooding into my bedroom in translucent waves…

how can anyone not be inspired by a moonrise over the garden?

My nocturnal muse.

 

I knew I liked the color red

and then I saw the wild bergamot

reaching its crimson petaled fingers towards the blue sky

and I fell in love

with the color

and the moment…

sitting under the olive tree sucking the nectar from the flowery digits.

 

And stillness… how could I not love it?

though I never gave it much thought

the utter content in the quiet

being left alone with nothing but breath

the inhales and the exhales.

 

I knew that I loved lists

tangible or mental

a glimpse of organization

in my ever-chaotic existence.

Perhaps –if I sit here with my thoughts–

this list of loves will become the world.

 

 

 

Bergamot

An Oregon Gal’s guide to Palm Springs: AKA Snowbirding

 

photo cred: Amber Nobe

photo cred: Amber Nobe

A few weeks before Christmas I randomly texted two of my college roommates and said “Do you want to go to Palm Springs in January?”  The answer was an overwhelming yes. Though we all adore living in the Pacific Northwest (yes, we are the crazies who actually kind of like the rain) we were all ready for a little burst of sunshine and a break from reality. So we searched for some flights, booked ourselves a condo and headed south for a Vitamin D infused weekend.

Obligatory PDX Carpet shot

Obligatory PDX Carpet shot

Reading and Tomato Juice on the flight

Reading and Tomato Juice on the flight

 

Amber ready to take CA by storm

Amber ready to take CA by storm

After waiting in the worlds slowest rental car line, we were ready to take California by storm. We drove around for a few minutes getting the lay of the land ( Palm Springs is ridiculously easy to navigate, FYI) and after getting a feel for where we were staying and what was in our neighborhood we ventured out for food. My only real requirement of the weekend was that we stop at In-N-Out burger… I had never been before, and getting a “double double animal style” seemed like the perfect way to kick off a girls weekend.  There isn’t actually an In-N-Out in Palm Springs Proper, so we did have to drive about 20 minutes… (we later discovered that there is an In-N-Out right next to our destination for the next day… oh well.) It was everything I dreamed it would be.
My first ever "Double Double Animal Style"

My first ever “Double Double Animal Style”

Since we still had a few hours to kill before checking into our condo, we decided to ride the Aerial Tramway, which was awesome/ terrifying.  We stopped at the Visitors center first (because it’s a cool building, and also we wanted commemorative shot glasses) and then headed towards the Mountain (or as I referred to it all weekend “Mordor” I know I know, technically it should’ve been Mount Doom.. but it’s way more fun to say “On to Mordor!” as you thrust your fist into the air… ) At first you sort of see something that looks like power lines and you think to yourself “definitely power lines, because they go straight up the mountain” and then you realize, that no, this is in-fact, the tram and you may or may not be riding to your death. (I mean you know in the back of your mind that it is safe, BUT….) We did survive the ascent to the top of the mountain, but were very ready for cocktails upon our arrival. Thankfully there is a restaurant and full bar at the top, so we were in luck. Moscow Mules, and a little girl time at the top of the mountain were just what we needed. (FYI, the tram, well it swings… fairly aggressively… and for someone who grew up suffering from motion sickness, I had a few fleeting thoughts of  “should I have grabbed the puke bag from the seat pocket on the airplane?”) This being a warm winter getaway, we were not equipped to go hiking (and it was only 38 degrees at the top.) but there were lots of great trails we most definetly would have explored had it been warmer and earlier in the day. The views are incredible, and we had a great time bopping around the top of the mountain for an hour or so.

We arrived in Palm Springs on a Thursday, and we were delighted to discover that the Palm Springs Art Museum offers complimentary admission on Thursday nights! Yay! So after we checked into our condo and changed our clothes we ventured out into the evening for a little culture. We browsed the museum for about an hour and a half, and the i-phone photo shoot that took place was pretty epic. It was fun to see some art and be a little silly. Also there was an amazing glass exhibit happening, and though we weren’t allowed to take pictures, the work was really stunning.
At this point we decided to venture out in search of food, and though some of us were really on the hunt for a “Crisp salad” we ended up wandering into this outdoor Greek restaurant. After being seated for about 30 seconds, we discovered that the waiter was actually our kindred spirit, because he took one look at us, and suggested we order a pitcher of sangria, a platter of various dips, a tray of flaming cheese, and kebabs with lemon potatoes. ITS LIKE HE WAS INSIDE OUR HEADS! What more could we ever want in a meal? It was late, and outside, so there are sadly no real photos of this meal, but the flaming cheese will live on forever in our memories and in our hearts.
These two, being all cute

these two, being all cute

Me, Being all Awkward

me, being all awkward

Our condo was a little quirky, but overall it was pretty perfect for us. (our only real complaint was that the only mirror was in the bathroom… which is a challenge for 3 ladies who like to be fancy.) Originally we thought we would eat in a lot more, however once we arrived we decided to splurge, and our only real “cooking” involved mixing cocktails. The condo itself was in an ideal location, walking distance to all the restaurants we were interested in, had some great local shops close by, and the best part was that it was right above a coffee shop that served Stumptown! It was the perfect level of hipster, and all felt right at home having bearded tattooed men make us coffee every morning. The best part was that at 4PM the coffee shop turns into a wine/cheese/ charcuterie bar… oh yeah, and did I mention it’s also connected to a Tiki bar? Location Jackpot. It was great to wander downstairs to grab coffee before heading pool-side, and was a great place to spend happy hour in the evening.
We had a private patio, and there weren’t tons of other people staying on site, so we basically had the pool to ourselves most of the time. Overall, I would recommend staying at The Twist… though it had its own quirks and charms, it was kind of ideal for our girls getaway.
Friday morning we decided to sleep in and then head to Brunch at Cheeky’s. Everyone we had talked to/ all the blogs we had read said this was a must stop, and we figured the brunch lines would be shorter on Friday morning. We didn’t have to wait at all, and our biggest problem was trying to decide what to order! We of course shared the bacon flight (why don’t more restaurants do this?) and after much deliberation we each ended up deciding on an amazing brunch option. My only minor disappointment was that the blood orange mimosa was a bit on the small side… but lets be honest, I’m a sucker for mimosas of all varieties, and I’m also a sucker for blood oranges, and overall it was delicious.  (though those of us who ordered mimosas were jealous that the Bloody Mary’s were served in this awesome giant boot)
coco with her bloody mary boot

coco with her bloody mary boot

Bacon Flight

bacon flight

decisions decisions

decisions decisions

breakfast

breakfast

tiny mimosas giant bloody mary

tiny mimosas giant bloody mary

After brunch we meandered the streets, stopping in at a few of the vintage shops and lusting over all the Mid-century Modern inspired furniture. We each found some amazing vintage necklaces at a cool little boutique called Bon Vivant and we also admired their amazing collection of Vases and interesting MCM pieces.  The two men who owned the store were so sweet, and very helpful, and also very tolerant of us trying to decide which necklaces to get as we “ooohed” and “ahhhhhhed” and tried on countless pieces. I found this amazing brass cuff necklace that I was instantly drawn to, and upon polling my friends it was decided that “yes it was in fact SO my style!”
bon vivant

bon vivant

Next up we mosied back towards our place ( stopped back at Ernest for iced coffee) and then headed out towards Cabazon to see the Dinos. It seemed a little too weird and kitschy to pass up, plus several years ago on one of our last girls weekends we ended up taking a series of epic photo-booth photos that clearly state “We Dig Dinos”  So it seemed like a must stop. We didn’t actually go into the museum, but we did take quite a few pictures, and had a pretty awesome time.
We (ok, mostly I) wanted to stop at Hadley’s Fruit Stand to get a date milkshake, and also stock up on tourist souvenirs for my almost 3 year old niece, who just happens to be named Hadley.  I’d always heard stories about my parents stopping at Hadley’s to get date milkshakes before my brother and I were born, so it was a little nostalgia pit stop.  But it was only about a 15 minute drive, and we got to drive out past the iconic windmills.  And lets just take a moment to talk about the windmills. I know we have them in the PNW as well, but there is something so graceful about seeing all the windmills out in the dessert against the backdrop of the mountain. They really were beautiful.  (I have no photos besides a few snapped from the back seat of a moving car…)
date shakes at hadley's

date shakes at hadley’s

When we got back to the condo we decided to host our own happy hour down by the pool. We mixed cocktails in plastic water bottles, rolled up our pants and sat with our feet in the hot tub. This was maybe the most perfect part about our vacation, 3 girlfriends sitting around chatting and laughing. I know it feels really cliche to say something like “we picked up right where we left of” or “it felt like no time had passed” but it was just so refreshing to laugh at inside jokes, to be completely unfiltered, to share stories and spastically dance around.  These are the women I shared my first apartment with, the women who bribed me to clean up my office space by buying me an R2D2 glue stick. These are the women would read Harry Potter out loud to me on Sunday mornings when we were hungover (because I hadn’t read them, which was a requirement for living in the apartment… a technicality which I avoided since I was the first one to move in.)
This is the part of the trip when we realized that we should’ve hired a photographer, or brought one of the significant others along… because its really really hard to take good group selfies, and all three of us are infamous for making “puppycat” faces… what is a puppycat face you might ask? well just look through most of our photos… We did ask a few random strangers/ waiters/ passerbyers to take out picture, however, you don’t want to be the annoying group who hands a stranger 3 cell phones and makes them take nine billion photos… So its still undetermined if we got a really good group shot… but we tried our hardest.
For Dinner on Friday night we went to Workshop: Kitchen + Bar.   we were drawn in by the industrial look and also by a cocktail called “The Palm Springer” which promised to be tangy and sweet like an ex-lover’s kiss without all the residual awkwardness.  My new life goal is officially to write awesome cocktail descriptions for cool restaurants (I know, dream big!) (also, side note… the only picture that my father liked on instagram from my entire trip, was the picture I posted of the description of this cocktail. Dad obviously gets bonus creeper points. It’s ok, because he is really awesome.) We shared these amazing vegetable filled enchiladas with green sauce and an egg on top, Duck confit pizza,  fries (cooked in duck fat, duh) , and some sort of delicious salad. I really cannot say enough good things about the enchiliadas and the pizza (for weeks now my girlfriends and I have been texting “remember that duck pizza?” YUM!) But for me, the real star of the meal was the butter. I know! I mean, I’ve always loved butter, but sort of went through this conversion to olive oil snobbery, so I didn’t use butter for a really long time, and at home almost always use olive oil even though I really do love butter, but THIS BUTTER! It was filled with toasted cumin and paprika, and all of these wonderful warm earthy spices, and I literally considered just eating the butter after all the bread was gone, but was worried my friends would yell at me (though by now, they understand that this is not atypical behavior for me, so they probably would have just rolled their eyes and started telling stories about one of my weird/ embarrassing food moments) Anyway… the duck pizza was amazing… but seriously, the butter, you want to go to there.
palm springer

palm springer

these two at dinner

these two at dinner

duck confit pizza and veggie enchiladas

duck confit pizza and veggie enchiladas

drinks

drinks

for reals, this butter

for reals, this butter

puppycat face

puppycat face

Next we walked down the street to Birba for a nightcap. At this point, I got completely distracted by this rather handsome French Bulldog who was sitting at the bar (no its not a metaphor… there really was dog at the bar) and after about 45 minutes of me making intense and very creepy eye contact with dog the owner finally brought him over and was like “oh I think Frankie wants to meet you!” In reality he was probably thinking “who is this psycho lady who is staring down my dog and kinda making buggy eyes?” My one pet hating friend was not amused by this entire experience, but I was missing #trollbaby just a little bit, and this weird little bat dog at the bar was a perfect distraction.
scoundrel... like han solo

scoundrel… like han solo

Saturday was mostly spent lounging by the pool, trying to take group selfies, and refusing to acknowledge that it was the last day of vacation. We had a late lunch at the Colony Palms, which included the best Old Fashioned I’ve ever had (it had smoked rosemary!) , an amazing shrimp cocktail, and the most perfect “Salad” that has ever existed called “Skirts on Fire” (Its a steak salad… but it comes with a quesadilla covered in bbq sauce… WHAT???? I Know. Its genius. Because its called a salad, but really its the quesadilla of your dreams with an awesome salad next to it… still kicking myself for not ordering this… I ordered the Southwestern Green salad, and it was good… but it was not the Skirts on Fire.)
We also spent about 30 seconds in the parking lot of The Ace... I mean, we hail from the land of Hipsters, BUT this was  a little too much. We snapped a quick photo and ran away pretty quickly. Hipster overload… (who knew it was even possible? It is.)
a for amber

a for amber

 IMG_0372
The evening was spent back at Ernest and Bootlegger Tiki.… Hipster music, charcuterie, sparkling wine, and tiki drinks for all!  (I would highly reccomend the Pod Thai, or of course the dangerously delicious cocktail for two that comes in a giant skull mug, and is, in fact, on fire.)
And that mostly concludes our 3 day antics in Palm Springs. Sadly we ran out of time/ motivation to see the giant Marilyn Monroe statue, and we didn’t get to see much of the famous architecture…but now that we know our way around, I have a feeling it’s only a matter of time before we all head back to sunny Palm Springs for another winter getaway.
all packed up and ready to head home

all packed up and ready to head home

last attempt at a group selfie before hitting the road

last attempt at a group selfie before hitting the road

adding essential oils to our pre-flight drinks

adding essential oils to our pre-flight drinks, you know for health and things

Where to Stay: The Twist

How did we get from “Reflection, post-holiday let down, introverted recovery and magic” to here?

If you are anything like me, the week between Christmas and New Years is always a mixture of reflection, post-holiday let down, introverted recovery, and yes a little magic.  I know, its a lot of things to be feeling and wrapping one’s head around in a short amount of time, but I think a little dose of bi-polar emotions come with the territory.

I’ve never been in a relationship over Christmas, so I don’t really get the woe is me singleton holiday stuff…It’s the whole ignorance is bliss and I don’t know what I’m missing situation.  But I do often wonder how a significant other might fit into the rigamarole of the holidays. Since my brother spends every other Christmas with his wife’s family, I am in the business of forging my own traditions with my parents that involve fancy French dinners, Christmas morning hot tub parties with mimosas, jigsaw puzzles, classic children’s books and hot buttered rum (and sometimes tequila shots. Sometimes) And in the midst of all the eating and the drinking, and the puzzling, I sometimes start to wonder “how will another person fit into all of this?” And the answer to that rhetorical question is “flawlessly” because who wouldn’t want to partake in a Christmas morning mimosa hot tub party? (if you just answered “well, I wouldn’t” we probably aren’t soul mates… sorry.)   And then after I have this conversation with myself I start to wonder if my chronic singleness has maybe left me with an unrealistic ideal of who is actually still out there? (Per my friend’s mother, if we don’t get online immediately ALL the men are going to be gone.)  I mean, I’m not exactly a hopeless romantic… but I think sometimes people easily confuse women with high standards, who are confident and know what they are looking for in a partner, with women who are delusional and way too picky with expectations that can never be met… It’s a fine line people, and although I’m pretty sure I’m on the high standards side of things, I do have a few moments when I start to think  “well am I just being too picky?”

And then I realized that regardless of what my perfect daydream ideals are for my future partner in crime/ life/ shenanigans  in reality, it all boils down to Chemistry.  (For the record those daydream ideals involve a guy who is willing to fly across the country to spend my 30th birthday with me eating hot dogs at Fenway park, who is going to help me build a compost bin, and who is equally if not more excited by the fact that I’m planning on planting an entire raised bed of Padron peppers in the back yard. He is also the type of guy who will occasionally take a yoga class with me on Sunday mornings, and though he will not be invited to book club meetings, unless we are hosting and he is making appetizers, he will definitely appreciate the fact that sometimes I have to stop and read him a sentence I just underlined and just swoon over the language…But I digress.) I’m enough of a realist to understand that I might not find exactly all of these qualities in one human man, and its not like I’m going to throw down any ultimatums of “Its Fenway Park or its over” Because, if I’m ever that girl, well then TERROR… and I am totally open to the potential of falling head over heels for someone who doesn’t really care for baseball or gardening or making appetizers for my book club… because like I said, its all about the Chemistry. Chemistry with a capitol C. And though it might be a little unrealistic for me to be holding out for a bulldog tolerating, Red sox loving, yoga doing gardener, I’m not going to settle for anything less than fireworks.

I know… you are probably thinking, how did we get from “Reflection, post-holiday let down, introverted recovery and magic to here?”  (welcome to the inner workings of my mind… grab a map, you might need it) Well, in short, because magic. Because regardless of how many bad dates I go on, how many holidays I spend forging traditions for one, this time of year always reminds me that magic is possible. That epic love stories do exist, that the best lives belong to the quirky and interesting independent souls who are out there doing their own thing. And though I am ending 2014 just as alone as I started it, I’m still everly optimistic that there is an awkward pimento out there to be my counterpart. And in the meantime, I’ve got a bulldog little spoon, a back yard full of garden potential, some amazing friends, and a life that is going to be abundantly full of adventure (and awkwardness).

Little nuggets of gratefulness

The past few weeks I’ve been doing a fair amount of mini “working on me” projects. I started a 21 day meditation series on Happiness, I joined the Kitchen Cure, a month long kitchen cleaning excursion, I’ve signed up for a 21 day juicing challenge, and I’m getting in my last few practice runs before tackling a half marathon next weekend! It’s a crazy busy life, but I’m loving the little daily tasks, and am feeling inspired, revitalized, and on track with my ever-present goal of living a life in forward motion. But with all the busyness, I’m finding it is even more important to take those little nuggets of stillness everyday. To actually carve out time for meditation, and to slow down and focus on the things in this life that I’m grateful for. As my dear friend Kali would say “Gratefulness is a game changer” and yesterday as I was out on my very long, and very slow run, I started to piece together a few of the everyday things in my life that I’m grateful for this week.

I’m grateful for :

The fact that even though I'm 29, I have parents who let me rummage through their refrigerator for leftovers on a regular basis. "Do you have plans for this salmon?" "Can I take some of this mac & cheese for lunch tomorrow?"

The fact that even though I’m 29, I have parents who let me rummage through their refrigerator for leftovers on a regular basis. “Do you have plans for this salmon?” “Can I take some of this mac & cheese for lunch tomorrow?”

 

My body, and that it allows me to do semi-crazy things like train for a half marathon, and take crazy fun outdoor barre classes.

My body, and that it allows me to do semi-crazy things like train for a half marathon, and take crazy fun outdoor barre classes.

 

That I have two wonderful bosses who had enough foresight to install an espresso machine in a clothing boutique. And also, that they do amazing things, like purchase almonds in bulk so we can snack on something healthy when things get a little nutty.

That I have two wonderful bosses who had enough foresight to install an espresso machine in a clothing boutique. And also, that they do amazing things, like purchase almonds in bulk so we can snack on something healthy when things get a little nutty.

 

That even though my best friend doesn't like dessert, he keeps a freezer full of Choco Tacos for when we have dinner parties.

That even though my best friend doesn’t like dessert, he keeps a freezer full of Choco Tacos for when we have dinner parties.

 

My students,Who show up to my yoga and barre classes every week with open minds, and let me teach what I'm feeling in the moment. I'm so blessed that they keep coming back week to week (and have for almost 4 years!) even when I ask them to do some semi-ridiculous things that get them out of their comfort zones.  Photo Cred: Ryan Jones.

My students, who show up to my yoga and barre classes every week with open minds, and let me teach what I’m feeling in the moment. I’m so blessed that they keep coming back week to week (and have for almost 4 years!) even when I ask them to do some semi-ridiculous things that get them out of their comfort zones.
Photo Cred: Ryan Jones.

That I've been able to cultivate relationships/friendships with local farmers who grow amazing things and who help support my pretty much constant craving for pardon peppers & fermented vegetables.

That I’ve been able to cultivate relationships/friendships with local farmers who grow amazing things and who help support my pretty much constant craving for pardon peppers & fermented vegetables.

 

photo 5(5)

padrons and kimchee in a sparkle bag, the usual Thursday MO.

 

That I have friends who say things like "Oh you haven't showered either? Great! We'll be smelly together, lets go get drinks!"

That I have friends who say things like “Oh you haven’t showered either? Great! We’ll be smelly together, lets go get drinks!”

 

A Niece that orders bear pancakes

A Niece that orders bear pancakes

 

the cutest nephew nugget around

the cutest nephew nugget around

 

The space and the ability to grow my own food

The space and the ability to grow my own food

 

 and always Tobias Wakefield, heart of my hearts.


and always, Tobias Wakefield, heart of my hearts.

And it goes like this…

I’ve been back from vacation almost a week and finally feeling like I’m getting back into a normal routine. I went for a long run today, finally cleaned out the fridge, cooked myself a real meal… all things I’ve pretty much been avoiding all week long. Not really on purpose, but sometimes life gets in the way, and even when you tell yourself when you run out the door in the morning that you are going to skip Wine Wednesday because you have too much cleaning to do, somehow you still end up going out and all the tasks that are lingering on your to-do list go mysteriously undone. (Because really who wants to skip Wine Wednesday? Right?) And usually I’m ok living in my own clutter for a period of time. Don’t get me wrong, I vacuum and clean every week… But I’m not the type of person who cannot go to sleep if there is one dirty dish left in the kitchen sink… However, there always comes a moment in which I absolutely cannot take it anymore and feel as though if everything isn’t magically deep cleaned that very instant my head is going to explode. Naturally, this moment usually happens sometime on my “Friday” morning when I’m running a tad bit late and have approximately nine-thousand other things that actually have to get accomplished before I walk out the door. Welcome to my life.

   ~~~~~~~

The alarm goes off, and you push snooze, because it’s early, and technically the weekend and while everyone else is sleeping in you are awake, because, life, and work, and you have to go let your brother’s dog out and you are really hoping that he hasn’t destroyed the house because its his first night staying home alone ever, and even though you let him out at like eleven-o-clock you are still worried that he is kind of a spaz and god only knows how many trash cans he broke into. The alarm goes off again, but you hit snooze for a second time, because you are just not quite ready. Only then you remember that your fridge is exploding with produce from the garden and things like leftover jars of maraschino cherries from your weekend of cocktail making and vacation, and if you don’t get up and try clean it out really really really bad things are going to happen in your life. Really. Bad. Things. So you get up, and try to decide if you really need to wake your dog up before going to go let out the other dog, but he is snoring pretty loudly, so you just leave him, and throw on a hoodie because your hair looks like an electrocuted rat terrier, and jump in the car and think about how its way too early to be out doing responsible things.

Your brother’s house is surprisingly intact and the dog only slightly pounces on you when you finally unlock the door… you contemplate why you haven’t purchased coffee in several weeks, and then remember, that, oh yeah, you also need to go and water your parents flowers since the whole family is on vacation together and you are at home care-taking all the things. This is fine though, because they have a fancy espresso machine, and all you can think about is the foamy latte you are going to be drinking as you water the plants in the back yard.

The latte is delicious, the plants are surprisingly not dead, and you are feeling pretty ok about your morning until you look at the clock and realize that you need to leave for work in a little over an hour… back home to the bulldog… who you can’t find right away, but you notice that your favorite sandal is lying in the middle of the living room looking slightly chewed on… you are 98% sure you didn’t leave it there, but the coffee hasn’t really kicked in yet, so everything is a little unclear. The dog comes trundling out of some unknown place and you scold him for the shoe and then he thinks it is kind of funny and just starts grumbling at you and does downward facing dog and then prances about the living room. You make him go outside and “think about what he has done” while you head for the shower. This is when it all starts to come back to you… you really need to do laundry, the bathroom counter needs a wipedown, and oh yeah, the thought of the fridge is making you a little twitchy… maybe that is just the coffee. Lathering up your hair you try to assess the wardrobe situation, do you need to shave your legs? Can you make it one more day? How much time do you have left anyway… not a ton since you are planning on walking to work… better shave the legs then. Damn it, a few more minutes gone.

You step out of the shower and decide that since you are walking to work you don’t need to dry your hair… it will magically dry in a cute effortless summer look on the way… this is of course very far from the truth, but you sometimes have to tell yourself lies to get out the door on time. Around this moment you realize that you are supposed to leave in about 15 minutes and you haven’t even packed yourself a lunch. Wait a minute, you haven’t even had breakfast. Shit. Because you are working by yourself today, and its probably going to be busy, and the only key to success here is to have lots of healthy snacks! And of course you are 100% out of almonds… shit. So you run to the kitchen and fling open the refrigerator only to realize that, oh yeah, the refrigerator… and then you sort of have this downward spiral moment and try to think if you maybe secretly have enough time to clean it, and then you remember that the trashcan is full, and oh yeah the dishwasher is broken and now you are supposed to leave in 13 minutes and you still aren’t wearing makeup. Ok, rally time. But not really because the fridge is the fridge, and so as you open it up to try and gain some sort of lunch time inspiration you get so defeated that you just shut the door and keep repeating to yourself “you are a grown up, you can do this.” So you open the fridge again, throw some salad greens into a tupperware, and then discover that the roasted beet that was going to be the rockstar of this salad is actually molding, and you can’t find the jar of capers, and in that moment it really is just TOO much, so you throw an apple and a diet coke into your bag and pray to everything that is pure an holy that you have some leftovers in the fridge at work. You then remember that you still haven’t eaten breakfast. Shit. One look towards the fridge and you reach for the secret stash of Lucky Charms, and all you can think in that moment is a sarcastic “winning.” You know within the first bite that you are going to have a sugar crash when you are approximately half of the way to work, but that still seems better than leaving the house without having anything but coffee. Breakfast. Of. Champions. You then run around like a madwoman, scrounging for foot-ware, hurriedly applying mascara.

And then in a brief moment of bliss and clarity you remember that you have all the ingredients to make an Old Fashioned tonight for your deep cleaning adventures. There is  a teeny-tiny flask with one shot of whiskey left in your suitcase from the weekend, and everything else starts coming together. Victory. Only if you make one old fashioned you surely want to have the option for making more after that, even if making more will probably not help the evening of productivity you have planned. But really, one cocktail? (because if you give a mouse a cookie, or give a moose a muffin, or give a dog a doughnut… they will all want cocktails and you can’t make them any because you are out of whiskey) But you don’t have other whiskey and you are walking to work, so by the time you would walk home in the evening there will not be enough time to make it to the liquor store before they close, because its Small Town Oregon. You could always walk directly to the liquor store, but you don’t really want to be the girl who is walking through town with a fifth of whiskey, because again small town Oregon. And then you think “well if I drive to work instead I would have about 20 extra minutes here to take out the trash and get my life organized and then I could make it to the liquor store on time!” and then you remember that you are running a half marathon in 3 weeks that you are no-where near ready for, and you can’t run after work because you have nine million things to accomplish and your head will explode if you don’t get them done, and the very least you can do is walk the .8 miles to work in a slight attempt to move your person. And also you are pretty sure that every season of The Biggest Looser starts out with someone saying “oh I could have walked to work but I drove to the liquor store instead and now I weigh 500 pounds.”

You throw an apple in your bag for good measure, scratch the dogs ears on your way by and run out the door. Naturally, you cannot stop thinking about the fridge, so you call your mom for a pep-talk about staying motivated to do all the things, because for some reason, in your mind, your mom is always good at pep talks… she doesn’t answer the phone, and then the more you think about it, the more you can hear her voice saying things like “well if you just cleaned up a little bit every day, it wouldn’t get to this point” and then it starts to stress you out, and you are maybe glad she didn’t answer the phone, and then you vow right then and there (for maybe the millionth time) that you are going to clean your kitchen until it sparkles and it is going to stay that way and how you are going to turn into one of the anal people who cannot sleep unless all the dishes are put away. Yes. Just wait, it’s going to happen. Now that that is settled you feel less distracted by the idea of cleaning the fridge and start to focus more on what the work day has in store for you… only now you are realizing that you are half way to work and wearing a skirt and your thighs are starting to chafe from the walk and you wonder how the hell you are supposed to run 13.1 miles if you can’t even walk .8 miles without your thighs rubbing together. Then you are very glad that you didn’t drive to work, because you know, getting healthy and getting fit… oh wait, you actually packed a cucumber and a diet coke for lunch, ok scratch that… getting healthy when the fridge is cleaned out and your aren’t feeling like such a hot mess. Ugh, in a perfect world you would’ve had time to make a vat of kale juice before walking out the door… damn it… why didn’t you pack pickles for lunch? The hot farmer practically fed them to you with a chopstick at the farmer’s market this week, and pickles are your favorite food, and why the hell didn’t you just leave the jar of pickles at work for emergencies? (because pickle emergencies are a REAL thing.) Oh wait… actually there might be a tub of cottage cheese in the fridge at work. Sweet Jesus, at least you will have some protein…

~~~~~~~

Tayler is a blogger, boutique manager and yoga teacher thriving on awkward situations in McMinnville, Ore.

Here’s to the good life!

Here is something I find to be a little irksome. The fact that I have to clean my kitchen every. single. day. How does that happen? I mean sure, I cook quite a bit, but it seems like every time I turn around there is another dirty dish in the sink, crumbs to be cleaned up or a dishwasher that needs to be emptied. You would think that I would be used to this by now… especially being single and roommateless… it’s not like there is another person going around and messing up my kitchen when I’m not looking… and yet every day I seem to think “Wait, I have to do this again? I JUST cleaned!” Le sigh… someday I will get this whole real life grown up thing figured out… in the meantime I will grumble under my breath as I unload the dishwasher.

Here’s the other thing I find a little irksome…. that my computer cannot transcribe  the first drafts of blogs that I write in my head (usually while doing something lame like Cleaning the kitchen.) I swear, I sit there being the multi-tasking queen and think of topics, anecdotes and experiences, and in my mind everything is witty and fabulous and the stories are funny, and the moments are memorable, and I think “writing this post is so effortless and fun” and then somehow  by the time I finally get to my laptop what I actually write as a first draft ends up being something like “Its Summer, and Magical and I don’t have time for this.” (which is true… but not exactly inspiring by any means.) And the writer in me really struggles with this because I want to do each moment justice and take the time and really figure out exactly what it is I want to say about each experience, and tweak it and edit it and finally then push publish and have it be this epically beautiful and perfectly crafted post.  But the thing about life is that it keeps happening around you, and then before you know it these incredibly great experiences are fading into the background and A) you haven’t been able to carve out the hours it takes to write something that does it justice, and B) you keep going out and living even more epic moments that deserve your attention, and just as much blog time, and so in the end sometimes you just put it all out there in the inevitable mess and jumble that fell out of your brain and onto the keyboard and hit publish anyway. Sometimes you just have to!

This past week has been filled with some pretty dreamy moments… beach adventures, river swims, wine tastings, seeing The Princess Bride in the movie theater… And I would love to be able to sit down and write and write and write about each little moment, how I felt, the texture of the light, the memories, the smells… but life keeps moving, and moments keep happening, and tonight I’m just going to embrace these moments in their entirety. I can’t wait to pour myself a glass of wine and get my hands in the garden soil. I’m ready to fling open the kitchen doors and make myself a lovely dinner, and grumble about having to clean the kitchen yet again….

But in the meantime, here are a few short glimpses into this past week.  This is the good life folks!

 

water dog

water dog

sandy face

sandy face

toes in the sand

toes in the sand

beach life

beach life

the happiest camper

the happiest camper

padron peppers

padron peppers

swimming in this river for hours

swimming in this river for hours

farm bouquets

farm bouquets

outdoor dinners with new friends

outdoor dinners with new friends

first tomatoes of the year

first tomatoes of the year

alfresco dinner at yamhill river farm

alfresco dinner at yamhill river farm

garlic from yamhill river farm

garlic from yamhill river farm

garden bounty

garden bounty

all in a days harvest

all in a days harvest

the start of our first staff meeting

the start of our first staff meeting

 

hanging out in wine country with these ladies

hanging out in wine country with these ladies

wildflowers at Soter

wildflowers at Soter

dreamy

dreamy

pinot noir at its finest

pinot noir at its finest