a diary of little things and curiosities

all kinds of love.

2012-02-14T06:43:00.000-08:00

Let's celebrate all kinds of love today, shall we?

You may not be a "Valentine's Day person" and you may not be the co-worker who rocks red and pink at the office, but everyone can celebrate love. Romantic love, yes, but also friendship and the love of our families, our acquaintances—our old loves and new loves, puppy loves and forever loves. The love of words, of sunshine, of fresh flowers sitting on the windowsill. And let's not forget to show love, too, to those we care about and also to ourselves. Yes, let us not forget self-love.

Happy Valentine's Day!

And thank you so much for all the love you've shown this little blog over the years :)

(Photo: My Flickr)

what i've learned from... my brother david.

2012-02-13T07:26:00.000-08:00

The funniest guy in the room can be the nicest, too.

Be honest. Always. With yourself and everyone else. Don't judge them, either.

Don't be the girl who wears a lot of makeup.

When the Cubs are (still) disappointing you, focus your attention on hockey.

Don't talk too much. You'll annoy your brothers.

Boy Meets World is amazing. So is Saved By the Bell and Ninja Turtles and The Price is Right... actually, all game shows are amazing.

Let go of people if you know it's the right thing to do. It's okay. Really.

Learn how to win games: try a headstand during Marco Polo, hold your cards when you play Rummy, and get the first move in chess. Oh, and buy hotels in Monopoly. Lots of them.

It's good to change, yes, but be consistent in who you are at your core.

The peacemaker role can be tough, so just make them laugh. That does the job as well as anything else.

Work hard and save. Take extra shifts, help coworkers, and don't complain.

Reach out to everyone in a group—get to know the outgoing ones, the shy ones, and occasionally the annoying ones, too. Learn to find the good in people. They can surprise you.

Speak up if you think someone needs you. Sometimes, that's all they actually need.

And when you really care about a person, you shouldn't have to constantly remind them. Your actions should make it obvious that you care, and they should just know.

the most beautiful sunset.

2012-02-10T06:33:00.000-08:00

10 of the 123 photos I took of last night's stunning, this-must-be-a-miracle sunset:

It was the sort of sunset that stops people on the streets. We watched as the pedestrians below stood and stared. We watched as, roof by filled roof, our neighbors joined the incredible sky show. First the view was a watercolor painting, then the horizon burst into flames, and finally, it all became a blur of soft pastels that looked like a sigh—a deep, easy sigh of a sky.

"I'm so happy," Radley kept repeating, over and over.

Me too. The words filled me up: "Me too."

(Photos: My Flickr)

when dust settles.

2012-02-08T07:25:00.000-08:00

Endings keep popping up in conversation lately. Stories of leaving, of finishing. Stories of conclusion. I for one have never been good with endings. I'm a beginnings person, someone who revels in the delight of change and enjoys navigating new territory. Endings startle and stun me—stop me right in my tracks. I never know how to negotiate the aftermath because I'm afraid to see the dust settle.

Looking back, I haven't allowed for many endings. I've managed to steer most of my experiences and relationships so that they land on a forever timeline, or at least something close to it. Come to think of it, some of the most heartbreaking endings have been leaving certain cities—San Diego, mostly, and Oxford, England. I knew as I left those cities that my time there was over and I struggled, wrestling with that knowledge and doing my best to pretend it wasn't so. Even now they're the places that tend fill my daydreams: absence makes the heart grow fonder, etc.

This is all to say that it's hard to close the back cover. With books I find myself clutching the final flimsy pages and re-reading them over and over again, wishing I could stay in the world just a little bit longer. More often than not, I'd rather balance along the edges of an ending—unsteady—than see the conclusion rise up to meet me. Isn't that sort of how it goes, though?

(Photo: My Flickr)

some wedding specifics.

2012-02-07T09:20:00.000-08:00

Although I'm still staying silent on most of the wedding details, I've decided to share the date today—mostly because Saturday marked the six month countdown and I'm just so, so excited!

Radley and I are getting married on August 4, 2012 here in California :)

Let me just say that it's a really, really important date for me. My parents were married on August 4, 1984—yep, 8.4.84—and their marriage has been both inspiring and intimidating, as I never imagined I'd find someone as meant for me as they are for each other. I did, though, and there was never a question as to the date I wanted to marry him. (Luckily, it falls on a Saturday this year.)

Even better? Anyone who knows me well—or anyone who has seen me set an alarm to 6:03, adjust the radio volume to 9, or change the temperature to 66—knows that I can be a total numerology nerd. For whatever reason, I've always loved the number 33 and sort of obsessed over multiples of 3. So the fact that 8.4.12 can turn into 8 + 4 = 12 and 8 + 4 + 12 = 24 makes the date all the more perfect.

There are exactly 179 days until our wedding... you know, not that I'm counting :)

(Photo: My Flickr)

sugar saturday.

2012-02-04T08:39:00.000-08:00

A roundup of my latest posts across the PopSugar Network:

CasaSugar:

10 Perfectly Painted Floors

Wanderlust Inspiration: Decorating With Maps

8 Ways to Turn Storage Into Design

Typography Accents to Suit Any Style

10 Not to Be Missed Home Decor Pieces On Sale

TresSugar:

The Best Wisdom From Best Actress Oscar Speeches

5 Ways to Make the Super Bowl More Entertaining

10 Football Films Both You and Your Guy Will Love

YumSugar:

Italian Dishes For Cozy Winter Meals

Get to Know the Types and Benefits of White Tea

7 Popular Chowders Across the U.S.

In Season: Carrots

Savory Sight: Buffalo Chicken Wontons

SavvySugar:

A Step-By-Step Guide to Handling a Mistake at Work

Host a Budget-Friendly Night In: Clothing Swap

LilSugar:

Valentine's Day Reading: 10 Love-Themed Books For Kids

9 White Nurseries That Are Anything But Boring

Creative Craft Idea: Kid's Polaroid Wall

Mad For Plaid: The Classic Pattern For Kids is Stronger Than Ever

Hope you enjoy!

to carry it with me.

2012-02-03T06:56:00.000-08:00

Five months. This is the longest I've been away from home—"home," of course, being Chicago. (I haven't lived at "home" for eight years now, but I've always felt that I had two homes: the one where I spent my every day and the real one with Mom and Dad. I don't think that will ever pass.)

Anyway, I find myself clinging to pieces of home lately in an effort to carry it with me, and the one that seems to be helping the most is my mother's nightly gratitude lists. I'm 99% sure she got the idea from Oprah, so you know it's a good one. The gist? Every night before you fall asleep, list aloud all the things you're grateful for, whether it's the great cup of coffee that started your day right, or the fact that you survived the day at all despite a hundred obstacles.

She introduced me to these lists during a rough patch and I remember that it's the one thing that gave me perspective—that forced me to step back and recognize what mattered. I'm not sure she even knows this, but I've been doing it every night since. And from the first day Radley and I moved in together, I've ~~forced~~ swayed him to do the same. It's one of the best ways to connect, I think, because it's such a true marker of what you value about your day—of which little things mean the most.

So what am I grateful for (so far) today? A sun that's rising earlier and earlier, the smell of cinnamon that's filling our apartment, and the good health that allows me to run.

What about you? What are you grateful for these days?

(Photo: My Flickr)

where we've already been.

2012-02-02T07:09:00.000-08:00

It's tempting to always look toward the bridges, either the Golden Gate or the Bay Bridge. Wherever I'm standing, I find my eyes drawn toward the water and then toward the nearest bridge. On Sunday, Radley and I walked to the base of the Golden Gate—an angle I'd never seen before—and I was more or less in awe. Seeing its red reflection on the sand, hearing the waves crash against the rocks, I couldn't help but feel small. Small, in the best of ways, and also lifted—buoyed by its magnitude.

And then I turned around.

That view, the one looking away from the bridge, is spectacular. The rolling hills of the city lined with white houses and light-colored buildings, the wide stretch of water dotted with sailboats, the faint outline of the Bay Bridge in the distance—it's stunning, really.

Incredible, and yet so often missed.

Most of us are always so focused on the bridge, that beautiful, far-off bridge, that we fail to catch the gorgeous landscape behind us. We fail to look behind us and acknowledge where we've come from, where we've already been. And I know it's an obvious metaphor, I know it's a bit exaggerated, but I think there's something to be said for turning back every once in a while. Yes, it's good to move forward and, yes, it's good to have a focus. But just a quick glance over your shoulder—a quick scan of what follows in your wake—can sometimes be just as beautiful as what lies ahead.

(Photos: My Flickr)

all its own.

2012-01-31T07:07:00.000-08:00

Lately my weekends have been filled with to dos—wedding errands, apartment errands, work—but this past weekend was left (almost) wide open, mine to fill however I pleased. Usually I try to fill that time, to use it up by going out, seeing friends, or, more likely, creating extra errands for myself. (Go figure.) This weekend, though, I gave myself a break. For the first time in far too long, I allowed myself the space to breathe—as in, I literally spent a full hour lying on our bed, strategically positioned so that the sun was on my face, and I just breathed. That was it. No reading, no phone call, no music. Just lying there in the quiet, soaking up the sun, breathing. It was heaven.

There were also morning runs and long, drawn out breakfasts and—my favorite—an afternoon spent walking along the water with Radley. It's been unseasonably warm, somewhere in the mid-sixties, and we walked all the way to the base of the bridge (more pictures to come later.) For the millionth time I felt how blessed we are to live here, how lucky I am to be with someone who can move between moments of smart conversation and silence, and who knows when to do so.

The air smelled fresh and light—like most ocean air—and I kept trying to compare it to San Diego. My mind kept trying to bring me back to Mission Beach, to let me re-live those senses, but the sand was too dark and too grainy, the bay too still, the boardwalk too calm. A thought crossed my mind: they're not the same place. And in that moment I realized how much I've been trying to carry pieces of San Diego over to this city, how much I've been desperately looking for similar threads, something I recognize—a resemblance, a matching memory. I realized that I've been holding on.

But San Francisco isn't San Diego, far from it. They're different, and they don't need to be compared. Sometimes, it's okay to let something just be without having to analyze it or fit it into a box you can understand. Sometimes, you run across something that's all its own, nothing like anything you've ever seen or heard, nothing like anyone you've ever known.

And isn't that sort of wonderful?

(Photos: My Flickr)

little miss chatterbox and mr. happy.

2012-01-30T06:33:00.000-08:00

When I was younger, I absolutely loved the Little Miss and Mr. Men characters—I had just about every book in the collection and I'd regularly line them all up along the floor to re-choose my favorite. Sometimes it was Little Miss Giggles, sometimes it was Little Miss Trouble, and other times I picked Mr. Messy, mostly because he was the easiest to draw.

For Christmas, my mom bought Radley and I these mugs, Little Miss Chatterbox and Mr. Happy, and I had to laugh because she summed up our relationship pretty perfectly. I talk too much, always have—my parents used to say that their "ears needed to rest" so that I'd be quiet every once in a while. And Radley, well, he's the first person I've ever met who wakes up every day with a smile on his face. Happy is his default mode, and he manages to make it contagious.

Later my mom handed me the Little Miss Sunshine mug, too, which made me feel a bit better. Yes, I may talk too much, but at least I tend to keep things light and sunshine-y, right?

(Photo: My Flickr)

sugar saturday.

2012-01-28T08:01:00.000-08:00

I love my job. Love it so much that I find myself actually excited for Mondays. There's something to be said for a creative, collaborative environment where you're regularly motivated and inspired by intelligent, imaginative people who care about their work just as much as you do.

But I'll go more into that later this week...

Meanwhile, a roundup of my recent posts across the PopSugar Network:

CasaSugar:

Shop Chic Chandeliers For a Glam Closet

10 Charming New Valentine's Day Cards From Hello!Lucky

A Fresh Take on Small Country Cottage Living

FitSugar:

5 Bad Weight-Loss Techniques to Avoid

How to Make Your House a Health Haven

5 Ways to Work With Hummus

TresSugar:

The Best Quality to Have For Any Healthy Relationship

SavvySugar:

18 Ways to Save (At Least) $1 a Day

15 Ways to Annoy Your Boss

Cute Passport Covers For Any Personality

4 Ways to Divide and Conquer Expenses as a Couple

BuzzSugar:

Top OMG Moments From Gossip Girl "Father and the Bride"

*P.S. Tune into our live coverage for the SAG Awards this Sunday!

I'll be tweeting for PopSugar, so I'd love for you to join the Twitter conversation :)

foggy sunsets.

2012-01-27T06:33:00.000-08:00

I know I talk about rooftop sunsets a lot... but really, can you blame me? They're sort of incredible here—so breathtaking that I find myself racing up the stairs as soon as I get home from work so that I don't miss a single second. Lately I've started to understand why Radley missed the fog when we were living in Chicago. I'd always pictured fog as part of a hazy grey day, but now I see what it does to the sky.

Foggy sunsets, they're quickly becoming some of my favorites.

Hope you've had a nice week, everyone!

Happy Friday :)

(Photo: My Flickr)

on regret(s).

2012-01-25T07:10:00.000-08:00

I believe in regrets. I appreciate the people who don't, and I find the saying "no regrets" both wise and optimistic, but to tell you the truth, there are some things that I'd handle differently, if given a second chance. There are some things I said that I wouldn't say, and—more often—some things I didn't say that I would love to speak aloud. As a writer and someone who probably talks too much, it's the unsaid that I tend to regret most.

I'm fortunate enough not to have any significant regrets, nothing so earth-shattering that it leaves me up at night. My regrets are mostly little things, tiny tweaks I'd make to the random moments of my life.

Given a second chance, I'd have written more letters to my grandmother. Told my third grade teacher that she inspired me to embrace art, to value creativity and learn to apply it elsewhere. Tried more vegetables when I was younger. Helped my mom cook more often.

I would have acted a bit more, auditioned a bit more. Learned Spanish in college. Attempted to surf even though sideways balance just really isn't in the cards for me. I'd have ditched the SPF 4 and actually embraced sunscreen. I'd have never worn pocketless jeans, Abercrombie t-shirts with sayings, or any of those weird hair clips that aren't bobby pins. I'd have never missed a diary entry.

Given a second chance, I'd have forgiven myself more easily and held others to a higher standard because I'd have known that self-respect reigns most important. I would have recognized real love more quickly and acknowledged when to let go of the relationships that had run their course.

I would have skipped the unnecessary apologies, the meaningless guilt, and the heavy boots that came with holding on to things for far too long. I would have ridden my bicycle more often and allotted more time for art. I would have saved the petals from the first red roses Radley ever gave me, the ones that came just weeks after meeting, a week before our first date. I would have taken more pictures.

Like I said, nothing earth-shattering. Just tiny regrets, small second-chance dreams that teach me what I value and what I need to do with the rest of this life I've been given.

Do you have a "no regrets" attitude?

Or are there things you'd have done differently?

(Photo: My Flickr)

missing mission beach.

2012-01-24T07:07:00.000-08:00

Over the past few years — ever since graduation, really — I've learned that these are the weeks I most miss San Diego. During these end-of-January days, whether I'm in the midst of a blizzard or a rainstorm or even just a bitter cold day, all I can think about is Mission Beach.

I think about the USD campus and how it always reminded me a bit of Greece, stark whites against the deepest ocean blues — never mind that I haven't ever been to Greece. I think about Mission Beach, about driving there at the end of each day. Passing over the bridge just as the sun set over the waterfront rollercoaster. I think about the brightly colored houses, the salty smell of the air, the way tourists flocked in every weekend.

I think about entire mornings spent on the boardwalk, running or walking or some combination from pier to pier. Passing the locals, the rollerbladers, the girls in bikinis. Power-walking moms and vacationing families. I think about surfers and boats and blue, everywhere blue.

It's the blue that I miss this time of year.

In the midst of grays, my mind always goes back to the blue.

(Photos: My Flickr)

what i've learned from... my brother charlie.

2012-01-23T07:14:00.000-08:00

Go to school in San Diego. It's the perfect excuse to live in paradise for a little while, and hitting the books really isn't so bad when you're doing it poolside.

It's possible to surprise people. Yourself, too.

Keep the friends you had growing up, because they'll always know you in a different way than anyone else ever could.

There's something to be said for hard work, routine, and security.

It's okay to have an opinion.

Decide what you want to do with your life and then do everything you have to do in order to make it happen. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it.

Pack your lunch—it's better for you and for your wallet.

Also, drink less Diet Coke.

Suck it up. Not everything should be easy. So 99% of the time, just suck it up and do it.

Be humble.

You really can have a marriage, two kids, a huge family, plus a demanding job and still find a way to make it all work. Learn to balance and compromise.

Remember to take some time for yourself.

Give your little sister random advice that she'll hold on to like it's gold. Also, give her the "cool" CDs when she's 13 to let her know that music exists outside of boybands. She'll hold on to those, too.

sugar saturday.

2012-01-21T10:00:00.000-08:00

A roundup of my latest posts across the PopSugar Network:

TresSugar:

20 Love Lessons From the Lyrics of Top '90s Hits

8 Football-Themed Gifts For Your Guy

Has Social Media Made It Too Easy to Keep in Touch?

7 Things to Know About People Born in the Year of the Dragon

The Pros and Cons of Being Friends With a Former Crush

FitSugar:

Learn to Love: Winter Fruits and Vegetables

Easy Ways to Cut Back on Sugar

3 Things I Learned From My First Indoor Cycling Class

SavvySugar:

What Movies Can Teach Us About Dating a Co-Worker

6 Winter Date Ideas That Won't Break the Bank

5 Reasons You're Late—and How to Avoid Them

How to Avoid Awkwardness When the Bill Arrives

Office Etiquette: Going Out to Lunch

Savvy Tip: 3 Steps to a More Relaxing Weekend

4 Things You Should Do When You Arrive at a Hotel

Hope you enjoy!

rain, finally.

2012-01-20T06:33:00.000-08:00

I spent the past week soaking up the sunlight—cherishing the bright blue skies and the clear sunsets—knowing full well that the rainy days were on their way. It arrived this morning, the rain, and I'm surprisingly thrilled. There hasn't been any rain in weeks, hardly any at all since we moved here, and I've been missing that mood—the mood that can only be found on a rainy day.

I listen to music more often when it rains—quietly, so I can still here the drops. I drink more coffee. I read more, write more, take baths just because. I send letters and draw and watch movies I've meant to see for years. I cook—stews and soups, foods that leave you warm and fulfilled. I clean and catch up with friends, occasionally attempt a craft, and in the mornings, I lie there—half awake, half dreaming—and watch the water blur the view from my window.

Yes. I've missed the rain.

(Photo: My Flickr)

together.

2012-01-17T06:43:00.000-08:00

"And with this man, I saw, I wouldn't be tied down so much as tied together."

- From "A Place to Lay My Heart" by Elisabeth Eaves

(Photo: My Flickr)

light.

2012-01-16T06:33:00.000-08:00

Life feels light lately—light in the best of ways. I'm trying to remember all the details of my days, to pocket this airy contentment so that I can hold onto it when things get a bit too heavy.

Of course, not everything's perfect. I fell flat on my face in the middle of the street last Monday—thank you, new heels!—and limped my way into the office, scratched and blushing. It's getting cold(er), the mornings are still dark, there are piles of laundry to wash, errands to do, research to finish, and on and on. But you learn to push through the everyday stresses, you know? At some point or another, you learn to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and call mom. Or work out. Or read. Or write.

The point is: At some point, you learn how to heal yourself from the smaller wounds. You learn what it is that restores you—what settles you—and start to take happiness into your own hands.

Life, then, starts to feel light. As if every moment carries something significant or special.

As if every moment becomes a memory you'll return to again and again.

(Photo: My Flickr)

sugar saturday.

2012-01-14T07:32:00.000-08:00

A roundup of my latest posts across the PopSugar Network:

FitSugar:
8 Tricks to Trim Pasta Calories

4 Easy Tricks to Send the "I'm Full" Signal

5 Reasons Not to be Intimidated by Free Weights

Diet Tip: Ditch the Ultimatums

5 Things Not to Bring to the Gym

How Do You Feel About Internet Workout Programs?

How to Add More Veggies to Your Lunch

SavvySugar:

10 Tricks to Save $10 a Day
4 Things Not to Discuss With Co-Workers
How to Rebound From Your Holiday Spending Spree
7 Effective Tips on Conveying Authority
Fresh Start Resolution: Organize Your Desk
What to Do If You Don't Like Your Boss
Cute Desk Accessories in Every Color
Fresh Start Resolution: Master Time Management
Office Etiquette: Bringing Your Lunch to Work
Host a Budget-Friendly Night In: Board Game Potluck
Fresh Start Resolution: Cut Yourself Some Slack
Savvy Tip: Create a Yearly Bucket List
The 10 Most Ridiculous Excuses For Being Late to Work
Fresh Start Resolution: Improve Your Public Speaking

Hope you enjoy!

P.S. What do you think of our new site design?

do what you love, and do it often.

2012-01-12T07:23:00.000-08:00

Remember a few months back when everyone was posting that inspirational video, the one with people biking around while great words and phrases moved across the screen? Well, I sort of really loved it—Radley, too—so we ended up buying a print of the Holstee Manifesto and hanging it beside our lovely color-coded bookshelf... (It's quickly becoming my favorite corner of our apartment.)

P.S. The song in the video is "Almost Everything" by Wakey!Wakey! So great, right?

(Photo: My Flickr)

mornings on the bay.

2012-01-11T07:00:00.000-08:00

Truth is, I think I like mornings on the water even more than sunsets on the roof. The boats, the breeze, all the different blues—so different from the greens of the Midwest. And still, even after four years living on the beach in San Diego, something about saying "Let's head down to the water" just makes me giddy... I seriously don't think I'll ever get used to that.

Oh, Marina. How I love you so.

(Photo: My Flickr)

rooftop sunsets.

2012-01-10T06:33:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things about our new building is the view from the rooftop—especially on clear days when you can see all the way across the bay to Marin. In Chicago Radley and I watched the sun set from our balcony, but here in San Francisco, we head straight upstairs as soon as we notice the sun starting to dip toward the horizon. It's become one of the best parts of my day, quiet and calm and perfect for clearing my mind when things start to feel a little too hectic.

Do you have an end-of-the-day routine to keep yourself calm?

(Photos: My Flickr)

the palace of fine arts.

2012-01-09T06:33:00.000-08:00

Until Saturday, we'd sort of briefly passed by the Palace of Fine Arts, but this weekend Radley and I made a point to walk around the grounds and finally learn more about the beautiful palace in the middle of the marina. It's impressive and stunning and strangely situated—located just steps from the bay.

It's just a block from busy Lombard Street, just a block from the crowded bayside park, but somehow the Palace of Fine Arts manages to be calm and quiet, a peaceful pond lined with benches and filled with stark-white swans. Sitting on its banks are artists and tourists and picnicking families—everyone using hushed voices, as if there's some unspoken rule to keep the grounds soundless and still.

As Radley so perfectly put it, the Palace of Fine Arts is Lake Ellyn-meets-Rome—Lake Ellyn being the tiny neighborhood pond beside my house. He was right, I realized, laughing, suddenly aware of why I loved it so much. I really couldn't have said it better myself.

(Photos: My Flickr)

sugar saturday.

2012-01-07T07:02:00.001-08:00

In my new job at Sugar Inc., I write posts across the PopSugar Network, filling in on sites when the editors need extra help. It's sort of incredible to write for all the sites because not only do I get to work with each of the teams, but I also get a chance to tackle all kinds of topics—everything from career advice to beauty trends, plus workouts and fashion and relationship advice.

Today I'm providing (a lot of) links to some of the posts I've written in the past month, mostly at the request of my mother so that she can read them all in one place. (Hence all the belated holiday-ness.) In the future, though, I'll just be linking to a few of my posts—plus some of my favorites from the other Sugar editors!—in a weekly Sugar Saturday series. Hope you enjoy!

FitSugar:

3 Surprising Ways to Sneak Vegetables Into Your Breakfast (Made it onto Huffington Post!)

Why You Snack at Night—and How to Avoid It

Terry Richardson's Equinox Ad Campaign: What Do You Think?

SavvySugar:

How to Self-Motivate in 5 Steps

10 of the Coolest Careers For Artists

10 Essential Steps to Take Before a Job Interview

2012 Planners to Fit Every Personality
The Top 10 Essentials to Store in Your Desk

Dry Cleaning Dos and Don'ts

Budget-Friendly Gifts a Holiday Hostess Will Love

Track Your Spending by Collecting Receipts

Turn Your Inbox Into a To Do List in 5 Easy Steps

FabSugar:

Look of the Day: Tweed and Tartan Plaid

Look of the Day: Sophisticated Schoolgirl

LilSugar:

Festive New Year's Eve Treats For Kids

Silk and Sequins: The Best Bump-Friendly Dresses For New Year's Eve

A Sparkly Holiday Trend: Sequins For Girls

BellaSugar:

Week in Review: New Makeup Trends, 2011's Best Beauty, and More

PetSugar:

What Do You Know About Goldendoodles?

Dogs Donning Santa Hats: A Double Dose of Cute

P.S. Pictures from the Sugar holiday party!

what i'd tell my fifteen-year-old self.

2012-01-05T07:19:00.000-08:00

You're right: they will be your lifelong best friends.

Someday, you'll have more skinny jeans than flared. No, really.

Eat more vegetables. Try asparagus, beets, and brussell sprouts—yes, you like them.

Embrace the curls. Skip the flatiron.

Oxford, England will feel like home. So will San Diego's Mission Beach.

Just because he's older, doesn't mean he's cooler.

Don't worry, you'll go to Paris—a few times—and you'll love it even more than you expect.

(You'll go to London, Amsterdam, Rome, Prague, and Dublin, too.)

Wear sunglasses and sunscreen. (SPF4 doesn't count.)

It's okay to be "the best friend." It's the better role, because you'll know him forever.

High-five for being a (mostly) good girl. You'll be glad you were.

When someone offers to help, let them.

You don't need to have it all figured out. Cut yourself some slack.

Eventually, the Internet will take over the world.

Take more pictures. These memories will be some of your best.

Your biggest crush will take you on a date in two years, but you'll be over it.

Those pathetic journal entries will be hilarious in ten years.

Stand up for yourself and speak your mind—it's not rude, it's self-respect.

Learn to sew. Mom can't always be there.

Your insecurities are absurd. So are 99% of your fears. Let them go.

Go all-out with the melodramatics. This is their time to shine.

Never stop writing. The dream plays out.

Let your heart fill and then shatter. It can handle it. It will rebuild.

Yes, you do end up with a California boy. A tall, charming one. He's everything.

(Photo: Best friends, then and now)

music and memories and change.

2012-01-04T06:28:00.000-08:00

I've always been a music person. Everyone's a music person, of course, but there have been phases of my life when music seemed to take center stage, when I listened to it so often that silence felt rare and sort of strange. When I listened to it so often that I found myself thinking in verse, bridge, chorus. There have been phases of my life when I felt that every moment deserved its own song, its own lyrics, and still those memories are backed by their own soundtrack in my mind.

Music phases, for me, have always gone hand-in-hand with writing phases—no coincidence, to be sure. It's lucky, though, because I have a record of my musically inflated memories, and yesterday I spent nearly an hour revisiting old playlists, reliving those moments.

The Postal Service - "Clark Gable"

The windows were down, the air was warm, and there weren't any streetlights. I wore white shorts and smelled like chlorine and couldn't understand why anything ever needed to change.

The Album Leaf - "Another Day"

I sat on a bench in the summer sun, missing old friends. Feeling hopeful. It was the first instrumental song I ever really loved, the one that taught me—lover of language that I am—that words can't say everything. Not even close.

Salt-N-Pepa - "Push It"

Best friends, a bottle of champagne, and nothing else mattered.

Jimmy Eat World - "Chase This Light"

I drove in the left lane on the I-5 and decided everything would be all right.

Mat Kearney - "Crashing Down"

Oxford, England. Green and rain, the time in my life when I felt most fearless, most daring. I walked and wrote and walked some more and learned what it meant to both love and endure.

Cary Pierce and Graham Colton - "Best Thing In My Life"

From a time when I was both heartbroken and in love, both afraid and elated beyond words.

Chairlift - "Bruises"

Sandy hair and too-big sunglasses. Girl talk and popsicles.

Dave Matthews Band - "The Idea of You"

He stood in the kitchen and laughed, saying nothing and everything I needed to hear.

The Alternate Routes - "All That I See"

There was cigarette smoke clouding the air, a scratchy microphone, a small stage, and a band we'd never heard of. I watched his easy smile and felt the realization of forever.

Linking experience and emotion to music—it's nothing new, I know. It's common, as natural as anything, but I think it's one of the most beautiful habits we have, don't you? I find myself collecting songs, any and all, in case they'll someday suit a fleeting moment. Silly, maybe. Or maybe not.

Do you have a favorite song memory? What is it?

(Photo: My Flickr)

today i believe...

2012-01-03T06:33:00.000-08:00

... that the way you spend the first morning hours sets the tone for the rest of your day.

... that holiday decorations should come down when the season ends—part of the whole "out with the old, in with the new" spirit of January 1st.

... that a handwritten thank you card is just the only way.

... that there's something to be said for a brand new planner (and pens. and highlighters.)

... that being Mindy Kaling's best friend would be, well, the best.

... that wintertime watercolor sunsets are one of the best perks of life in California.

... that sequins are more than appropriate, even after the ball drops.

... that DVR can sometimes make TV feel sort of stressful.

... and that thanks to good friends, loving family, wise reflections, big hopes, and champagne, new year's eve might just be one of the best holidays.

(Photo: My Flickr)

resolutions.

2012-01-02T06:33:00.000-08:00

How do you feel about resolutions? Do you make them? Share them? Ignore them? Do your resolutions tend to be similar year after year, or wildly different as time goes on?

I'm definitely a resolution person—on January 1st, yes, but throughout the rest of the year, too. It's part of my past- and forward-thinking personality, I think, and I honestly can't quite imagine life without my daily lists of plans and goals. After all, isn't that sort of the point? To live and learn and refine the way you are, the way you experience life?

On the back of an old postcard I've written out the main things I hope to keep in mind for the coming year, the big picture plans that involve everything from health to finance to love and work and, yes, wardrobe. In keeping with past traditions, I've also listed out mini resolutions for each month—tiny tweaks to everyday habits that will help me tackle the bigger goals.

Still, no matter how many little lists I write or how many commitments I make for 2012, I always try to remember that it's impossible to do and be and try everything. I may only half-accomplish some resolutions and entirely ignore others—(I'm looking at you, Cook at home five nights a week)—but that's okay. More than okay, actually, because the process of stepping back and recognizing what needs a bit of work is half the battle.

The rest, as they say, is a matter of simply putting one foot in front of the other.

... If only it was that simple, right?

Do you have any resolutions for 2012?

(Photo: My Flickr)

happy new year!

2012-01-01T08:01:00.000-08:00

(Our New Year card from Tiny Prints | Photos by Cooper Carras)

2011: a year of blessings.

2011-12-31T09:27:00.000-08:00

2011 was without a doubt one of the most special, incredible years of my life. It all started with a Tahoe New Year's trip with our best friends—followed by a Chicago "Snowpocalypse" blizzard that left us snowed-in for nearly a week. In February, for the first time ever, I read my work on the radio (and managed not to stutter or laugh while doing it.)

Ten days of March were spent in New York City, where I squealed at the Friends apartment building and finally lived out my Sleepless in Seattle dream. That same week, my mom and I went to the most incredible party for Emily Giffin (and met Hilary Swank) before Radley and I eventually—inevitably—recreated the classic Times Square Kiss.

After a quick trip to Florida, I had a super sweet 24th birthday and became a (fairy) godmother. There was a day that I sort of missed having a broken heart, and another day when I re-fell in love with Chicago—and a really, really exciting day when I earned my Masters in Writing & Publishing.

In June I surprised a friend for her birthday and in July my life changed forever when Radley got down on one knee (!!) and proposed. We were more or less on cloud nine for the rest of the summer, basking in outdoor concerts and sunny days and, in August, celebrating our engagement with a seriously amazing party thrown by my parents.

Things didn't slow down in the fall: we watched my brother get married, I tried on my mother's wedding dress and eventually bought my own. We moved to San Francisco, spent Halloween as Maverick and Goose, and saw the concert of a lifetime. I also wore heels on a mini hike (genius), shared all the reasons I love Radley, and remembered the best lessons from my mom and dad.

Recently I fell in love with our new apartment and running the stairs outside—mostly for the view. I started working at Sugar Inc. full time, writing posts across the PopSugar Network. Mostly, though, I've been reflective and grateful lately, aware of how lucky I am to be here, to be with him, to have had a year filled with so many blessings that I feel I ought to list them out.

A big, huge, enormous thank you to Radley, my family and friends, and everyone who was part of this surreal, incredible year. And also, of course, a very, very special thanks to all of you. I'm so grateful for your support, your kind words, and your presence in this whole journey.

Thankyouthankyouthankyou and here's to a happy 2012!

P.S. A video of our year, through July.

christmas day.

2011-12-29T06:33:00.000-08:00

We literally went over the river and through the woods to get to Radley's grandmother's house on Christmas Day—and even though I forgot my camera, I did manage to snap a few pictures on my phone so that I could share the stunning view from her deck. Incredible, isn't it?

Her home was one of the first things that Radley ever told me about, and even now his whole demeanor relaxes when he talks about it. Over the past few years I, too, have come to appreciate its magic. There's a beautiful parlor filled with hand-carved antiques, sepia family portraits lining the walls, a wood shop, a garden, a painted playhouse, an authentic cuckoo clock, and the feeling that at any moment, you may just discover that you're standing inside a storybook. It's charming and enchanting and all the things that you imagine a grandmother's house should be.

Spending Christmas there felt surreal in the best of ways, and although I certainly found myself missing my friends and family, the breathtaking view made it much, much easier to appreciate all the blessings and the wonderful company I did enjoy that day.

And never before had I watched the sun set on Christmas, white or icy blue being the only colors that ever filled the Chicago sky during the holidays. As yellow turned to orange turned to pink, though, and as purple eventually spread itself across the sky, I decided that it's a tradition I could get used to. After all, Christmas sunsets carry double the magic, double the miracle—and there's nothing quite like a miracle to remind us what the holiday's really all about.

happy holidays!

2011-12-23T09:05:00.000-08:00

This time last year we were all bundled up, wrapped in scarves and sweaters and double layers of socks, soaking up the start of the season with sledding, skating, and icy walks through the neighborhood. There was a thick blanket of snow on the ground and, more often than not, a steaming cup of coffee or tea or hot chocolate in my hand. I planned outfits around snow boots and never left the house without a hat and an extra pair of gloves, just in case.

Of course, things are a bit different this year. We'll be having a sixty-and-sunny Christmas free of snow or skating or sledding. The sweaters are half as thick, the shoes unlined and the scarves unnecessary. Instead of icy white-washed air there will be the bluest of skies and sunsets over the ocean.

Different. And yet.

Still there will be family—my future in-laws, Radley's parents and grandparents and siblings who have welcomed me with open arms and helped to make this city feel like home. Still there will be a cozy Christmas Eve dinner, early morning presents, and a very likely marathon of board games. Still there will be stockings and ornaments, love and faith and giving, and still it will be the most wonderful time of the year — snow or not.

Friends and family back in Chicago: I adore and miss you, and send you my love.

Here's to a very merry Christmas and a happy holiday season!

(Photo: My Flickr)

on changing. and not.

2011-12-21T07:12:00.000-08:00

Last week, a friend kindly reached out to say how happy she is that I found Radley. How clearly and brilliantly he's added to my life. I asked how I'm different—in what ways I've changed—expecting to hear that I'm more content or satisfied, that I'm calmer or just a bit less crazy.

I thought of all the changes I've seen in myself, all the tiny ways that he's affected me. I thought of the coffee habit and the different foods he's introduced. The songs he's shared and the passions he's made me part of. I thought of the ease and the effortless joy he's slowly but surely passed on, the rationality and the fearlessness and the utter lack of anxiety.

I remembered myself before, the uncertainty, the tangible insecurities. In quick flashes I remembered the pattern of hope and heartbreak and the careful caution that inevitably followed. I remembered the trusting innocence, the wild inhibition and self-consciousness, the occasional theatrics.

And I realized, gladly, that I loved that girl, too. That the me-before-Radley is still part of me now. That she helps me navigate this world every day with all the mistakes she made, all the lessons she learned. I realized that I'd be lost without her, and for a moment I allowed myself the space to miss her.

My friend's response surprised me in the best of ways. She laughed. "How has he changed you? Laura," she said, "he hasn't changed you at all, not really. Didn't you hear me? He's added to you. It's as if he's put a spotlight on the truest, best you that's always been there."

And I was sort of speechless. Because to me, that's exactly how love should be. Love should be two separate people who don't lose themselves in each other—don't become one entirely different person, but simply the same two people at their very love-filled best. The very best part of their befores.

oh, just a little observation.

2011-12-20T06:51:00.000-08:00

In my experience, about 95% of life depends on your attitude.

And it's way, way too short to be anything but wholeheartedly enthusiastic.

(Photo: My Flickr)

home.

2011-12-19T06:56:00.000-08:00

Last December I snapped this photo of home. For whatever reason, I keep revisiting it lately—perhaps because December feels so strange without snow, or because Lake Ellyn and ice skating and snowball fights have been popping up in my dreams night after night.

Friends ask if I miss Chicago and yes, of course, I miss the people and places, my closest friends and family. They ask if I miss the city and I do—the skyline, the energy, the food. They ask if I miss the snow and I shrug because it's a complicated relationship, snow and me. I find it beautiful to look at, sure, and I love that it makes the air crisp and cool, quiet. A week of flurries would be nice, I think, but then I'd be ready for my sixty-degree San Francisco weather, a winter that feels like fall.

A coworker asked, "Do you miss your hometown?"

"Of course," I said. "It's home."

"This doesn't feel like home?" she wondered.

It does, I told her. It's felt like home for months. It felt like home when our furniture arrived, when I arranged the bookshelf, when we cooked our first meal and when we hung our paintings and when we put up the Christmas tree. This is most definitely our home.

I haven't lived in Glen Ellyn since I was 18. Since then it's been a place for transitions, a rest stop in between moves. But so far it's still home, and I find myself wondering if and when that might change. When my parents sell the house? When I buy one of my own? When we someday start a family?

If I really think about it, though, the truth is that there may be new houses, but there's only one home.

(Photo: My Flickr)

because it's easy to lose sight of what's important.

2011-12-16T06:33:00.000-08:00

In the midst of shopping and presents and holiday parties, sometimes I forget to focus on what this season is all about — luckily, though, I have my nephew to remind me.

A few days ago we received this card (and those adorable gifts) in the mail. My sister isn't sure where he came up with the wording inside, whether it came from a TV show or a school lesson or if he made it up himself. Either way, he's right, and I couldn't have asked for a more perfect message.

Sometimes kids really do know best, don't they?

on marrying young.

2011-12-15T07:05:00.000-08:00

Radley and I met in San Diego when we were twenty. From the beginning things were different with us—almost eerily comfortable, deja-vu happening so often that I started to wonder whether we'd met before. Even stranger than that: things were easy. Our relationship was so terrifyingly easy, and I found myself questioning it if only out of habit. Eventually, though, I learned that the best love is simple, and that at the center of that simplicity is an unconditional, fantastic friendship.

After graduation, we had to have The Talk: I'm from Chicago and he's from San Francisco, so what would we do? Live in separate cities for a while and fly to visit regularly? Or move somewhere together and see, once and for all, if this was it? (Breaking up was definitely not one of the options.)

We picked the "Let's See If This Is It" plan, so Radley moved to Chicago with the understanding that after two years in my city, we'd move together to his hometown, San Francisco. Obviously, it's a plan that worked—and obviously, as I sit in San Francisco and stare at the ring on my finger, I can say that, yes, this most definitely is it. He's The One, Mr. Right, the whole package. Everything I always, always knew I wanted—only better.

When people hear that we're engaged, there's an inevitable follow-up question: "Wait... how old are you again?" And when we say that we're twenty-four, the reaction is almost always the same: "Wow," they say, eyebrows raised, surprised. "You're so young."

It's true. We are. And for a long time—as in, my entire life—I imagined that I'd be single right now. I imagined that at twenty-four I'd be single, living in New York, and nowhere near marriage. I imagined that I'd be living with my girlfriends and pretending that I was Carrie Bradshaw—minus the wardrobe. Instead, though, I met the most incredible person I've ever known and he just so happened to be from a city that's on the opposite coast. And my girlfriends, they're not in New York, either. They're spread out across the country, in Denver and Chicago and Portland and San Diego. Some are engaged and others are single, and hardly any of us are where we expected to be—in the U.S. or in life.

I understand that marrying young isn't for some people, I really do—truth is, I thought it wasn't for me, either. There's something to be said for waiting, for focusing on your friends and your career and dating throughout your life so that by the time you run into that one person, you never have to question it. I believe in that theory, and if I hadn't met Radley, I'd probably be living it.

I did meet him, though, so any kind of life plan I'd ever created for myself bent and unfolded to allow room for him—for us. And still, I'm always sort of shocked to see how much of my life has gone the way I'd thought it might: I went to school in California, earned my Masters, and work in publishing. I followed the path I set out for myself, and that never really ceases to amaze me, since 99% of my plans begin and end on paper, never quite seeing the light of day.

There are certainly upsides and downsides to marrying young. The most common "downside" is true: in every decision you make, you have another person to consider. In that sense, yes, there's less individual freedom. But in my experience, I feel sort of blessed to consider Radley. I feel blessed that there's someone in this world who means so much to me that I want to match my life to his.

A stranger, actually, is the person who said it best, I think. One afternoon I was sitting in Starbucks when an older woman glanced at my ring and asked my age. I waited for the usual reaction, but she was quiet for a moment. Eventually she leaned over, as if we were in on some sort of secret.

"I'd have given anything to share all that extra time with the love of my life," she said. "To share all those extra years, all those experiences in your twenties that shape you forever. You're lucky."

Extra time together, that's how she put it. Lovely, don't you think?

(Photo: My Flickr)

what i've learned from... my sister.

2011-12-14T06:33:00.000-08:00

Marry the person who compliments and complements you. (Yes, you'll know.)

Cheez-Its are a perfect food. They just are.

It's totally okay to be a list-making, color-coding Type A nut. In fact, it comes in handy.

Be the mom who can both guide your kids and laugh with them, too. It's important to set limits, of course, but it's equally important to appreciate mistakes. They teach the best lessons.

Cheerleading isn't just for the girly girls. Tomboys can still rock pom poms.

You can be a really incredible person with a really huge heart and still laugh at things that ~~probably~~ definitely shouldn't be laughed at. It makes you human. And fun.

Respect your siblings, your parents, your grandparents, your kids... and, well, everyone. Respect, empathy, and support are everything.

Join clubs. Be a leader. Make a place for yourself in your community—it benefits everyone.

There are more important things to worry about. Always.

Do the little things: Send birthday cards, remember anniversaries, call regularly, and offer to help whenever you can. It'll mean more than you even realize.

When you talk to someone, really listen to what they have to say. They'll notice.

Somehow, there is time. Time to have a happy marriage, raise amazing kids, pursue a career (or two), lead each and every school club/party/PTA meeting, and take care of everyone you know.

Chocolate is seriously overrated.

Do the right thing. You'll always feel better when you take the high road.

There's nothing quite like a sister, someone who can be entirely different from you in a million separate ways—can be twelve years apart from you, in fact—but still understand you like no one else ever could.

And if you're lucky enough to have one, tell her you love her.

(Even if that's usually just a given.)

fresh insights.

2011-12-13T06:33:00.000-08:00

One thing I've always loved about work is the commute. The minutes it takes to get from here to there. A morning commute, to me, carries the same feeling that I get on planes: I become reflective and aware, lost in thought, my mind almost eerily quiet. Know what I mean?

I've done all kinds of commutes, too—everything from a walk to a subway trip to a train ride. With my new job I'm doing a bus-walk combination, and it's already growing on me. There's just something about the early morning energy, the way the sun tilts over the tops of the tallest buildings just as the shops and the cafes are opening their doors. Sidewalk traffic is heavy, moving in every direction all at once, and the air is thick with the smell of coffee and exhaust fumes.

Sometimes I like listening to music as I walk (or ride), but more often than not I prefer to hear the sounds of the city as it wakes up: honking cabs, ringing cable cars, shuffled newspapers, the clicking of high heels on pavement and muffled phone conversations. And every once in a while, birds.

Bus rides are especially interesting, don't you think? Every morning you begin your day with the same people—the same strangers—and right away you discover patterns. Within a week you know who brings an iPod, a book, an e-reader, nothing at all. You know who dresses up and who dresses down, and you assume the latter work for some sort of start-up. You find out who talks on the phone, who can't stop texting, who closes their eyes and who stares out the window. You memorize colognes.

How quickly you can become a part of something, and how easily it can become a part of you, too.

(Photo: My Flickr)

a mini life update.

2011-12-12T06:33:00.000-08:00

The exciting news I mentioned last week is that I have a new job! As of last Thursday, I'm officially working at Sugar Inc. as an Editorial Assistant for the PopSugar Network--16 sites that include celebrity, fashion, beauty, entertainment, food, health, and design topics.

Truth is, I'm still sort of pinching myself. Growing up I'd always hoped to write for a magazine, and my biggest struggle was in deciding which one. With this position, I'll basically be writing about every topic. About the Oscars and last night's episode of The Office, about yoga tips and new recipes and the latest interior decorating trends. Pets and budgets and, yes, even a bit about parenting.

I'm thrilled to be part of the company, I really am. During my first interviews, I already felt inspired by the editorial team. Right away I could tell that they're creative, intelligent women with a passion for what they do and who they do it for. It's a fun and friendly (99% female) environment... and did I mention the office walls are hot pink? Like, Barbie hot pink? Because it's pretty awesome.

Right now I'm in the midst of training, but sometime in the next few weeks I'll begin writing posts across the network and I'm so, so excited. It feels like things have clicked into place, if that makes sense, and I can hardly believe it's all happening. Such a dream come true.

For those of you who aren't already readers, I'd love for you to check out the network!
(A good place to start? The seriously incredible PopSugar Holiday Gift Guide.)

Hope you all had a nice weekend :)
Happy Monday!

our engagement pictures, part III.

2011-12-09T06:33:00.000-08:00

(All photos by Cooper Carras)

our engagement pictures, part II.

2011-12-08T06:33:00.000-08:00

(All photos by Cooper Carras)

our engagement pictures, part I.

2011-12-07T06:33:00.000-08:00

For the rest of the week, I'll be posting some of my favorite photos from our recent engagement shoot with Cooper Carras. They were taken in Sonoma a few weeks ago--and, for the record, I honestly cannot say enough about how much we like Cooper. Not only is he just a great guy, but wow does he know how to use light in his pictures... Sort of incredible, right?

More to follow... :)

on my desk.

2011-12-06T07:02:00.000-08:00

I've always thought that you could tell a lot about a person by what they keep on their desk--and, of course, what they don't. Is there a stack of magazines? Of books? Random scraps of paper? Are pens kept in a mug? Organized by color? Shoved into whichever drawer is most convenient? And, to that end, the ultimate question: Pens or pencils? Fountain or ballpoint? Or--gasp--gel?

I, for one, keep my (cheap ballpoint) pens in a tall New York mug. An old apple sauce jar serves as my paintbrush holder, my postcard collection hangs on the wall above the desk, and when the sun goes down, there's nothing quite like writing by candlelight. (My personal favorites? The Grace candle from Philosophy and the Paddywax Library Candle in Edgar Allen Poe--a gift from Sam.)

In fact, the only thing that ever really changes on my desk is the stack of books. And lately, even those have been rather permanent. For one thing, the golden dictionary Radley gave me last year has definitely cemented itself as the most beautiful book I've ever owned. Love Letters of Great Men always seems to inspire me, too, or at least remind me why I'm so in love with language.

And the other two books--also gifts from Sam!--well, they've come to sort of define the space. A Writer's Paris serves as both a guide and a source of inspiration for anyone who's ever wanted to get away and write in the world's most romantic city... Truth is, I find myself reading bits and pieces from it nearly once a week. And A Year of Mornings, first inspired by a blog between friends, makes me want to be a better writer, photographer, and friend.

Oh, and the Tiffany box? Well, that's just because it's my favorite color.

And, okay--let's get real here--because it's Tiffany's.

What's on your desk?

What do you think it says about you?

life's simplest pleasures.

2011-12-05T06:33:00.000-08:00

Thanks to a weekend full of celebrations--a birthday dinner, a Christmas party, and a date night to celebrate some really exciting news that I'll be sharing soon (!!)--this is quickly becoming one of the best Decembers I can remember. An incredible end to a seriously incredible year.

And during these fun but hectic holiday weeks, there's something to be said for the little things. For a vase of liles (Thank you, Radley) and a breeze drifting through the open windows. For finding that perfect gift, for beautiful stationery, for cozy Sunday dinners with friends. There's something to be said for flannel sheets and homemade pie, for peacoats and pine cones. For an apartment filled with the mingling scents of apple cinnamon candles and freshly baked bread.

And did I mention the vase of lilies?

After all, now is the time to bask in life's simplest pleasures, don't you think?

(Photo: My Flickr)

and so it begins.

2011-12-02T06:33:00.000-08:00

Almost every night this week centered around something holiday-related: Cyber Monday gift shopping, decorating the apartment, listening to Christmas music, pulling out the advent calendar, and watching my favorite holiday movie--in fact, one of my favorite movies ever: Love Actually.

And this weekend? Well, this weekend kicks off a full month of holiday parties.

It can be an overwhelming month, to be sure... but it's also one of the best, don't you think?

Oh, and for those who are have asked: No, I'm not missing the snow too much.

Yesterday I wore a sweater with shorts and couldn't have been happier about it. (Sorry, Mom.)

(Photos: My Flickr)

like a snap of the fingers.

2011-12-01T06:33:00.001-08:00

You know how sometimes your mind is far, far away from where you actually are?

Well, today mine's here, on the ten-day trip my friends and I took during our semester abroad. Ten spontaneous and picture-perfect days spent visiting Paris, Amsterdam, and Rome.

Exactly four years later, I find myself sitting on the other side of the world, staring at the painting I bought that day in Montmartre. And still I can remember the songs that were played by a violinist on the steps of Sacre Coeur, the magic of walking across the Amsterdam canals late at night, and ohmygod do I remember the taste of my first Roman pasta dish.

Funny how a day can feel like a lifetime and four years can feel like a snap of the fingers.

writing and breathing (and oprah.)

2011-11-29T06:33:00.000-08:00

"Your true passion should feel like breathing. It's that natural." - Oprah

Okay, let me just say that I was raised on Oprah. (Seriously.) Not only am I from Chicago, but I also have a mother who never missed an episode, so the big O actually had quite an influence on my own self-awareness. That seems to be at the center of what she stands for, doesn't it? Self-awareness, consciousness, knowledge of your spirit and your truth and your own physical presence.

Hers is an important message, I think: to question, recognize, and improve yourself. What I appreciate most about Oprah, though, is how confidently she talks about personal passions. How wisely she speaks of that inner fire, the feeling of destiny--of things that make you feel most yourself.

I've been asked more than once why I write. And when I answer, I admit that I don't write to be read; I write for the sake of writing. For the process, the struggle, and the unique elation that comes during the sweet, split-second moment that inspiration strikes. Mostly, I write to know myself.

To me, writing is about discovering the shape of my thoughts and then tracing and retracing that shape until it becomes something clear and crisp, something I can recognize--maybe even something I can understand. Writing is about giving the grey area structure, about fashioning a truth from the foggiest of realities and seeing how it changes when it's there in black-and-white.

I'll be honest: some days the words don't come easily. Some days I find myself forcing them out, racking my brain or my journal--or, okay, random Internet prompts--for that magic spark of the imagination.

Other days, though, she's right: it really is like breathing. Instinctive and spontaneous, habitual and liberating and subconscious. Those days, writing is a sign--and supplier--of life.

I'm curious: Do you know your true passion?

(Photo: My Flickr)

what i've learned from... my father.

2011-11-28T07:02:00.000-08:00

Be comfortable. Rock flannel. Wear aviators.

Save! And if you choose to spend, put the money toward a lifelong memory, an experience you'll remember forever: the Superbowl, the Olympics, a Bon Jovi concert, a ten-day trip to Kauai, or maybe a weekend full of Broadway plays with your daughter.

Fill up the tank when it's a quarter full. (Half full during a Chicago winter.)

Don't get an updo. He asked you out because he likes how you look every day, and chances are the updo will end up looking hard and weird and he'll secretly wish your hair was down.

Work hard and work efficiently. Get to the office early, don't get distracted, and don't leave just because the clock reaches five; leave when the work is done.

Coach your kids and never miss a game. Tell them you're proud, but also tell them how to improve.

Learn to anticipate, both on the field and off.

If what you really want off the menu is the giant brownie sundae, order it for your meal. And if you couldn't decide between the sundae or the key lime pie, order the pie for dessert.

Tip well and Stand. Up. Straight.

Be curious. Ask questions. Find out as much about the people around you as you possibly can. In learning about them, you'll learn something about yourself--and about life--too.

The Best? John Wayne, Sinatra, and Elvis... The Worst? Nicolas Cage.

Have nicknames for your kids. Hearing them will make their hearts swell someday.

Go to the movies whenever you can. Buy popcorn. Make it a double feature.

Read the newspaper--actually, read all of them. Cover to cover. Even the sections that don't quite interest you, because knowledge is what makes you interesting.

Learn foreign languages. Play instruments. Master them if you can.

Live up to your name (literally) and give, give, give. To your family, your friends, your neighbors, and your coworkers, yes, but also to your dentist's wife's sister's cousin. Give from your heart, and without expecting anything in return.

Laugh loudly and without inhibition--even if you've reached that high pitch giggle stage.

Make time for things you enjoy--like, say, golf--and share that time with the people you care about. Shell out for an extra player and let your daughter ride in the golf cart just because you love her company--and because you know she loves the sunshine.

Live in California. If you buy a house, make sure it has a three-car garage.

And when your kids leave the house, say, "Be Smart. Make Good Choices." It will become a a mantra of sorts that sticks with them years after they've moved out--years after they've created a life of their own, a life that's guided almost entirely by the advice you shared over the years.

because it's that time of year.

2011-11-23T06:33:00.000-08:00

This year I'm grateful for easy joy. For the fulfillment of earning my Masters, the thrill of being back on the West coast, and the genuine elation that's lit me from within ever since Radley proposed--ever since I realized that I get to spend forever with the best person I've ever known.

I'm grateful for my new baby niece, Josie, and the health of my entire family. I'm grateful for two parents who so perfectly bridge the gap between mentor and best friend. For four siblings who understand me like no one else, make me laugh like no one else, and offer all the most helpful advice as I move through the phases of life they've already passed. For three of the funniest, cutest nephews and three precious, lighthearted nieces. For my future in-laws, who made me feel like family long before Radley and I set a wedding date, long before he gave me a ring.

I'm grateful for friends who make me feel like we've never been apart, who call so often it's as if they still live right around the corner (or just down the hall.) For friends who lift me up, cheer me on, and swear to put together an epic dance routine that will debut on our wedding dance floor.

I'm grateful for chilly morning walks. For coffee and the ~~paper~~ Internet. For wheat waffles topped with almond butter and banana slices. For red grapes. For the incredible bruschetta at De la Rosa.

I'm grateful for music. For Britney and Katy and Pitbull on the treadmill, for OneRepublic and Sara Bareilles while I write, for Adele and Mumford and Sons at any time, all the time. Mostly I'm grateful for live music, for the feeling of a shared epiphany that comes, eventually, during every concert.

I'm grateful for novels, magazines, blogs, biographies. I'm grateful for language that strikes a chord, words that inspire empathy. I'm grateful for the fellow writers in my life, talented friends who so kindly offer to read my work and so generously allow me to read theirs. I'm grateful for intelligence.

Peonies and lit candles and clean sheets. Rustic wooden furniture and colorful coffee table books and spontaneous afternoon naps. Handwritten letters, chic stationery, anything gold or French or coconut-scented. Blank pages. Outdoor cafes. Artichokes, typography, J. Crew, tall boots. The ocean.

My heart is full this year, maybe the fullest it's ever been. The blessings, lately, have been overwhelming and incredible, and I find myself pausing to greet them more than ever before. This week I'm doing everything I can to take it all in--to acknowledge the wonderful pieces of this life that have come together in a shape that looks an awful lot like happiness.

(Photo: My Flickr)

gift guide: for your bookish bff

2011-11-22T09:41:00.000-08:00

Inspiration doesn't always strike, so that's where the Keel's (1.) Simple Diary steps in--a daily journal complete with prompts and clever fill-in-the-blanks. And when it comes to office decor, what could be more appropriate than the (2.) Left Quote/Right Quote prints from I Need Nice Things? For the friend trying to write the next Great American Novel, buy the (3.) Penguin Pencils--a nod to all the classics.

Looking for something both artsy and chic? The (4.) Kate Spade Typewriter Notes fit the bill.

And my personal favorite? A special gift for anyone on your list: The New York Times (5.) Ultimate Birthday Book--a glimpse into what else was happening on the day they were born.

I'm curious: Have you started your holiday shopping yet?
Any great finds so far?

a (tiny) glimpse into our apartment.

2011-11-21T06:33:00.001-08:00

It's still a blank slate--several bare walls, a few pieces of furniture missing here and there, some windows that are basically begging for drapes--but it definitely feels like ours. Like home.

I've come to fall in love with the nooks and crannies, the way the sunlight slips through the slats of our blinds and splays itself across the floor at sharp angles. Every day I find myself waiting for the clock to reach four-thirty just so that I can watch as the apartment fills with golden half-light--the opening act for a watercolor sunset.

Settling into this space has been a labor of love, to be sure, but I sort of relish that it's still a work-in-progress. I sort of delight in the fact that nothing feels quite done--that every room is filled with potential. Potential and sunlight.

... Oh, and yes--yes I did organize the bookcase by color.

things i learned this week:

2011-11-18T06:33:00.000-08:00

1. Someday, I'd like to have a house accented with fuchsia bouganvilla.

2. The longstanding reign of the 'ugly bridesmaid dress' has officially ended courtesy of the J. Crew Wedding Collection. (Seriously, J. Crew can do no wrong.)

3. I could spend hours--okay, maybe I actually did--reading the New York Times Modern Love columns.

4. The Amy's Kitchen California Veggie Burger is more than a little delicious--especially when you add avocado. (Did I mention it takes exactly one minute to cook?)

5. There's just something so satisfying about slipping into an old, easy, laugh-out-loud rhythm with a person from your past.

5. Patience can do wonders. So can a morning latte.

6. If you know what you want in life, you're already halfway there.

... What did you learn this week?

(Photo: My Flickr)

the best of both worlds.

2011-11-17T06:33:00.000-08:00

Now that we're in the midst of a San Francisco autumn, I keep having flashbacks to the years I spent in San Diego--to the strange, surreal feeling of sixty-eight degrees in the fall and palm trees covered in Christmas lights. Last week, though, I spotted changing leaves beside the palm trees, and I decided that this may just be the perfect city for me.

(Photo: My Flickr)

taking a step (or 288.)

2011-11-16T06:33:00.000-08:00

Within weeks of moving here, a friend mentioned her new favorite workout: running the Lyons Street steps. (Thanks, Autumn!) As someone who's constantly looking for 1.) Any excuse to be outside and 2.) Anything to help me switch up my workouts, I was more than a little intrigued. Since then, these two hundred and eighty-eight steps have become a regular part of my week--partly, of course, for the exercise that comes from running up and down... but honestly? I mostly do it for the views.

The first set of flights...

The second set of flights...

The third set of flights...

Finally, the last set of flights...

And--oh how I love it!--the view from the top...

Without fail, I reach the top of the stairs and find that my mind is clearer, my heart is lighter, and colors themselves seem just a little bit brighter. (Never underestimate the power of endorphins.)

Do you have a favorite mind-clearing ritual?

Any interesting workouts?

(Photos: My Flickr)

a walk through the neighborhood and the bluest of skies.

2011-11-15T06:33:00.000-08:00

Everything about this city makes me wish I could paint--really, truly paint.

The color and the charm and the rolling, sweeping views... Pictures just don't do them justice.

(Photos: My Flickr)

a pop of color to kick off the week:

2011-11-14T06:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I received--seriously, this is not an exaggeration--exactly seven compliments on my lip color, mostly from strangers, all of which were followed by: "Which brand? Which shade?"

The magic blend I'd been wearing?

Three cult favorites--my everyday staples--layered:

2-3 coats of Benetint by Benefit Cosmetics

Clinique Almost Lipstick in Black Honey

Rosebud Strawberry Lip Balm for some extra shine

I'm curious: Do you have a go-to brand for lip color?

What about a favorite shade? Or do you switch it up regularly?

just for fun: dream dinner guests

2011-11-11T06:00:00.000-08:00

Do you have a question or a thought that you return to again and again? Well, I have hundreds, but one that I've been thinking about a lot lately is the ever-popular Who would you choose as your dream dinner dates? There are a few no-brainers, of course: Oprah, Meryl Streep, and Hemingway.

But there are just so many others that I find it impossible to narrow it down. I've been trying to keep it to six people--that's a solid dinner group, right?--and it's been a serious struggle. Writers, actors and actresses, musicians, artists, inventors, designers, political leaders... There's Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly and (swoon) James Dean, but there's also Cleopatra and Gandhi, Elvis and Sinatra.

And that's the other thing: People tend to think toward the past with this question. I keep racking my brain for all the legends I'd like to meet, but what about all the modern day standouts? What about Tina Fey? And Ellen Degeneres? And the cast of Friends?

And okay, let's just get right down to it: What about Ryan Gosling?

This, I've decided, is The Impossible Question.

But hey, just for fun--how about we all try to answer? :)

It will haunt you all weekend... You're welcome.

(Photo: Dream Place Setting, Kate Spade)

what i've learned from... my mother.

2011-11-09T06:00:00.000-08:00

Little things should be celebrated (and/or put on the fridge when appropriate.)

Everybody--even the people who claim they're "so not into birthdays"--appreciates a card. Maybe two cards. Maybe as many cards as the age they're turning. Oh, and their favorite food. Okay, maybe some flowers and balloons and a batch of homemade cookies, too.

Food brings people together. So do board games.

The best part about movies is popcorn: Choose the theater accordingly.

Crying is okay--better than okay, actually; it's a release. Another outlet of expression, no better or worse than laughing or sighing or jumping for joy. It shows not weakness, but sincere and true emotional strength... and sometimes bloodshot eyes, which can be cured by staring at the ceiling for a while. (Seriously, she's right: it works.)

Flights require goodie bags, and road trips require extra large goodie bags.

Beauty begins and ends with good skin, and moisturizing is everything. Overmoisturize. Invest in a brand you can trust. Don't neglect your neck and hands.

When it comes to party planning, decorations, favors, and food? Go overboard. It works.

Be thoughtful, and not just with the people closest to you. Bring cookies to your hair stylist. Every once in a while, bring enough for the whole salon. Buy lunch for the nurses at your doctor's office. Offer those extra tickets to your dental hygienist. Give the leftovers to your elderly neighbor every single night. (She does all of these things and so, so much more.)

Don't overpluck.

Keep the fridge stocked with all of your friends'--and your kids' friends'--favorite foods. It will make your home feel like everybody's home, and they'll absolutely love you for it.

You can't beat Southern hospitality. (She's from Tennessee.)

Laugh loudly and too hard and at all the wrong times--it's good for you and it will make everyone else feel good, too. Bonus points if the same thing makes you laugh for days afterward.

As she says all the time: "Love hard." Cherish the people you care about most. Treasure them. Show them how much you love them and tell them as often and as enthusiastically as you can.

And when she's old enough, be your daughter's best friend. It'll mean everything to her.

sanctuary.

2011-11-08T06:00:00.000-08:00

Wherever I live, I tend to stake out a sort of sanctuary for myself--a special place I return to again and again whenever I'm searching for... something, be it peace of mind or quiet or maybe just the chance to sit and listen. A place where I can stop talking and texting and tweeting and just be.

Last week, wandering through our neighborhood and purposely getting lost, I found myself standing in the middle of all these trees. I sat in the very middle of the space, out in the open but still enclosed, and immediately felt that this was it--the retreat I'd been hoping to find. Between the trees were glimpses of the city, the ocean, the bay, and above me the sun filtered through a canopy of branches.

Beside me, this tree, this strangely beautiful tree:

It's different than all the others--totally climb-able, as my inner ten year-old couldn't help but notice--and right away it became my favorite tree in the city. I started to imagine who else had appreciated the tree, whether there had been picnics or first kisses or last kisses or maybe a poem written about it. Had anyone carved their initials in its trunk? Anyone painted it? Anyone climbed that branch because seriously it is just totally climb-able...

I lost myself in that stretch of grass, in that pocket of space beneath the trees.

And I have a feeling I'll return. Again and again.

(Photos: My Flickr)

wedding sneak peek: the engagement shoot

2011-11-07T06:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we had our engagement session with Cooper Carras--an incredible photographer who we are so, so honored to have for our wedding day! (For all you Matchbook girls out there, he's the man behind the amazing portrait of Joy Venturini on the October cover!)

He made us feel completely comfortable in a--let's face it--totally awkward situation, and on top of that he picked the most perfect location. After taking a random turn off of Highway 37, we managed to take pictures in a field, along a trail, among trees, on a dock, near the water... in other words: there's a little bit of everything. And even though it was sort of--okay, definitely--a bit chilly, and jackets were required most of the time, it honestly couldn't have been a better experience. This, coming from a girl who's much more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it!

Anyways, since I've been so secretive about all the wedding details, I thought I'd just share this little sneak peek that Radley snapped during my solo shoot yesterday! (For some reason it cracks me up that the one picture he took was of my dramatic over-the-shoulder pose. Semi-embarrassing.)

I couldn't have asked for a better ending to what was already a memorable weekend: a fireside chats with friends and lingering dinners and champagne and cozying up sort of weekend, that is.

November, it seems, will be a good one.
(And yes, the gratitude is already overflowing.)

under sixty (and overjoyed.)

2011-11-04T06:00:00.000-07:00

This was a week full of sunshine, picnic dinners, long walks, some city exploring, and lots of exciting wedding-ness! Today, though, marks the first time it's dipped below sixty degrees during the day (true story)--and I have to say that I'm actually really, really ready for the season to change.

For starters, who doesn't love sweater weather? And second of all, hot apple cider and Christmas music just didn't quite fit when I was still wearing shorts and drinking iced coffee.

Farewell, then, Indian Summer!...
(Cue the *NSYNC Home For Christmas album.)

(Photos: My Flickr)

today i believe...

2011-11-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

... that it's perfectly okay to see the Starbucks holiday cups as the official start of the season.

... that regular days can become remarkable at the sight of a beautiful sunset.

... that full seasons of Boy Meets World on DVD are cause for celebration (and Christmas gifts!)

... that Kardashoween--yep, I said it--was equal parts ridiculous and wildly entertaining.

... that there really is nothing quite like a handmade card.

... that the phrase is true: You can't control how you feel, but you can control what you do.

... and that when you get right down to it, most of life's little problems can be solved rather simply--by treating yourself (and everyone else) well.

(Photo: Zoe Power)

the heart of the season.

2011-11-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know--technically we're about five weeks into fall already. But it hasn't seemed like fall until now, especially in San Francisco, where it's been seventy-five and sunny for weeks. When I woke up this morning, though, the air was just a little bit crisper, the breeze just a little bit cooler--and maybe it's the promise of Thanksgiving just around the corner, or the sudden onset of holiday music, but there's something about the start of November that feels like the heart of the season.

It's such a beautiful season, one I look forward to year after year. But lately I've heard from so many friends that it's a tough season, too--that it carries promise but also expectations, and with those expectations, a certain amount of anxiety. I have to say that I agree: fall is fabulous, yes, but it also has the tendency to overwhelm. To pass so quickly that you struggle to stay in step. Summer ends, the calendar fills up, and just as soon as you've lost your tan, sleigh bells are ringing on the radio and Target is selling Christmas trees. Yes. Overwhelming.

Let's face it: It can be hard to keep up with everything this time of year. Personally, I get through it by listing (and listing and listing) all the things that need to get done and--this is the key!--how and when I'll do them. (I also color code said lists, but that's another story.) Another stay-sane trick? I high-five myself for virtually every single thing I do--as if I deserve a gold star for sending a "Thank You" card or vacuuming daily. Hey, whatever works, right?

How do you stay balanced during this pre-holiday bustle?

Any keep-your-cool tips?

P.S. A big thank you to Mom for sending the pumpkin decoration--and the acorns from our driveway! I've loved seeing this little piece of home every day :)

(Photo: My Flickr)

happy halloween!

2011-10-31T06:00:00.000-07:00

This weekend we dressed as Top Gun--Maverick (Radley) and Goose (Me)--and these pictures are just cracking me up... How could you not love a holiday dedicated to candy and costumes?

In other news, you know you're an adult when you find yourself ironing your costume.

Any fun plans for the holiday?

Happy Halloween!

just for fun: ace of base and scary spice.

2011-10-28T06:00:00.000-07:00

I can remember the year of almost any pop song based on two things:

1.) The guy I liked at the time and 2.) What I wore for Halloween that year.

Not sure what that says about me, but here are a few of my favorite song/costume combinations:

1994 -- "The Sign" by Ace of Base // Pebbles from the Flintstones

1997 -- "Truly Madly Deeply" by Savage Garden // Tamagotchi Virtual Pet

1999 -- "Wild Wild West" by Will Smith // Mary Katherine Gallagher from SNL

2002 -- "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World // 1920's Flapper Girl

2006 -- "SexyBack" by Justin Timberlake // Scary Spice

I like to think that it all adds up to a pattern with some sort of deep meaning, but the truth is that I just have a ridiculous passion for pop culture and a strange knack for memorizing song years. And, well, doesn't everyone remember their yearly Halloween costumes?

Oh, and the Tinkerbell costume pictured above remains my favorite Halloween costume to date. My mom is quite possibly the best costume creator--not pictured are some seriously trendy Keds that she covered completely in green and gold glitter. (I wore them for weeks.)

Do you have a favorite costume of all-time?

(Bonus points if you remember a song from that year!)

Happy (Almost) Halloween! :)

a question for you:

2011-10-27T10:23:00.000-07:00

Just out of curiosity: If you could re-live one year of your life, which year would you pick?

Why? Is it because of who you were, who you spent time with, what you did?

(Photo: Tru Pettit)

oceans and heart and dreams.

2011-10-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

"Everyone has oceans to fly, if they have the heart to do it. Is it reckless? Maybe. But what do dreams know of boundaries?" - Amelia Earhart

(Photo: My Flickr)

two days later and still on cloud nine.

2011-10-24T06:00:00.000-07:00

Words are failing me as I try to describe the pure and easy joy that curled itself around us on Saturday night, filling the space between strangers and binding us together in... in rapture. Elation, bliss, rapture--one or all of those things. I've never even used the word rapture, but I know that's what it was.

Since seeing Amy Grant--in, yes, 1997--I've been to something like a hundred concerts. More, probably. And never have I ever been part of something so celebratory and spirited as the Bridge School Benefit Concert, where it seemed almost as if the artists were paying tribute to music itself.

Dave Matthews, Mumford & Sons, Arcade Fire, Neil Young, Eddie Vedder, Carlos Santana, Beck, Norah Jones. It was the lineup of a lifetime and I had high hopes: I expected something miraculous.

And that's exactly, incredibly, what we experienced. A musical miracle, of sorts.

(Oh, and I planned to share one of the fifteen videos I took throughout the night, but 1. Radley is embarrassed because you can hear him singing in the background of every single one and 2. You'd also hear me squeal and whisper Ohmygod! in amazed joy a time or eight. For videos of the shows, check out this YouTube page.)

the concert of a lifetime. (but seriously.)

2011-10-21T06:00:00.000-07:00

When I fall for a band, I fall hard. Head over heels, hopelessly devoted, etc. And from the moment I lost my heart to Mumford & Sons, I had one and only wish: that someday I'd see them live, and that maybe--just maybe--they'd tour with Dave Matthews.

And who are we seeing tomorrow at the Bridge School Benefit Concert?

Yesyesyes: Mumford & Sons and Dave (!!!)
(I might faint. Or cry. Or faint.)
I can't wait...

Happy Friday! :)

dear radley,

2011-10-20T07:56:00.000-07:00

I first met you at twenty. Within weeks you bought me flowers and I called you charming. Your hair was buzzed and my hair was curly and I fell in love with you so easily and instantly that it didn't feel like falling at all, but more like floating or sailing or sinking back into an old favorite chair. You rode a motorcycle and I dressed in bright colors, and soon we couldn't remember our lives without each other.

At twenty-one I met your family and introduced you to mine. It was the year you taught me to cook, the year I convinced you to dance. Your hair grew longer, mine blonder. On Valentine's Day we played laser tag with all our friends-turned-family. That spring we saw six concerts and went on three road trips and in my diary I wrote that you might be The One--that you had the kindest, most beautiful heart I'd ever known.

Twenty-two carried us out of college, out of San Diego, and finally to Chicago. To our first apartment together, to our first careers and our first Thanksgiving and our very first Christmas tree. My accent came back, my hair turned dark. You started to brew beer. Our lives intertwined and so did our DVR, so I embraced Conan and you got to know Oprah. We had living room picnics and rooftop card games and I learned what it's like to love someone so much that you don't mind doing their dishes.

You asked me to marry you at twenty-three. I said yes. Life became so clear that I could see right through it--right through it and into the most wonderful, joyful future with you.

Today you turn twenty-four, exactly six months after I did. Which, I have to say, feels quite appropriate--our birthdays, six months apart. Because that's what they say, after all, isn't it? Opposites attract and all that.

This year, your birthday feels especially special. For one thing, we're back in California and things feel a bit like they've come full circle. But mostly this year feels special because I woke up thinking that for the rest of my life, I'll be able to say that today is my husband's birthday. And for the millionth, trillionth time since first meeting you, I felt like the luckiest, giddiest girl in the world.

Happiest of birthdays to my best friend, my almost husband, my forever and ever.

Wishing you health and contentment and an endless supply of Goldfish for the coming year :)

(Photo: My Flickr)

oh, just a quick (wedding) question:

2011-10-19T09:12:00.000-07:00

As I sift through all the bridal magazines/websites/blogs/Pinterest boards, trying to narrow down which ideas are the best of the best, well, it's not always easy. So I thought I'd enlist a bit of your help: What have been some of your favorite parts of the weddings you've attended (or planned yourself)? Any little touches that you loved? Any Must Do's that you think I should look into?

P.S. If I'm being completely honest, truth is that a lot of our wedding is already planned... What can I say? I've thought about it a time or two... :) Still, I'd love to hear some of your thoughts!

P.P.S. Yes, I do look down at this ring 300 times a day and turn ridiculously giddy.

(Photo: My Flickr)

on running.

2011-10-18T07:38:00.000-07:00

It's been interesting for me to see what keeps popping up on the blog, the topics I return to again and again: writing and places and spaces, colors and lists, tiny moments from the everyday. For whatever reason, though, I haven't written much about running. Strange, because it's such a big part of my life--the center of my sanity, really.

Running has more or less taken the place of sports in my life. For years I played anything and everything, from soccer to basketball to volleyball. Not to mention the swim team, golf lessons, tennis lessons, plus a brief, wildly unsuccessful softball phase. (Too many injuries to count. Basically, I can't catch.) I grew up with the belief that sports were the relief of the day--the cutting loose after hours and hours spent sitting at a desk. That never quite changed, and when sports were no longer an option for me, I turned to running.

I'm not an overly enthusiastic runner. Not really a consistent one, either. Because, well, let's face it: some days it's just not happening. Some days, sleep feels better than any run ever could. But when those days turn into weeks, that's usually a sign of my disposition (See: Not Good) and I can say with confidence that running is the truest marker of my state of mind.

When I look back on the roughest patches of my life--the times that I lost myself, or someone else--I realize that running was absent. Whether it's because I didn't have the energy, or the time, or the drive, it just didn't happen. As soon as my feet hit the pavement again, though--or, okay, the treadmill--things began to turn around, each and every time.

If I had to say why I love running, if I had to explain what it does for me, I think it has something to do with the memories it carries. When I run, I sometimes feel a bit like a kid again. Like I might be part of a Capture the Flag game, or playing tag, or on the soccer field again. My senses bring me back to those moments: steady breathing, aching legs, my ponytail falling against my back in a fixed rhythm. I love running because of this: for once, and for one heavenly hour of my day, my mind moves from the mental to the physical. I stop worrying, stop overthinking, stop planning and re-planning, stop making mental lists of everything under the sun.

Instead, I listen to my breath. The pounding of my feet. My heartbeat. And it's listening to my own heart, I think, that saves me--that brings me back to myself. It's the only thing, really, that keeps me present. And isn't that the best way to be?

Since moving to San Francisco, I've been running. A lot.

(I'll take that as a good sign.)

(Photo: My Flickr)

vista point.

2011-10-17T06:00:00.000-07:00

From the Bay Bridge to the Golden Gate:

The "still fixing my hair" picture... (Ha!):

The "good thing Radley has long arms" picture:

A bridge side view--interesting, right?:

For those who, like me, are fascinated by the fog:

For you, Mom--the solo tourist shot:

And--last but not least--the reason I love this city... So. Much. Blue:

(Photos: My Flickr)

an must-see film and a can't-miss message.

2011-10-15T14:32:00.000-07:00

I'd do anything to be back in my Media Studies undergraduate class to hear my favorite professor lead a thorough, thoughtful debate on this documentary. Our culture is more media-saturated than ever, and I'm fascinated by the way women--and women's rights--fit into that environment.

I'm curious: How do you feel about this trailer? About this issue?
Will you be tuning in October 20th?

a friday with a view.

2011-10-14T17:58:00.000-07:00

(When the weekend starts with a view like this, and a sky like that, you can just about guarantee it's going to be a good one. A really, really good one.)

Have I mentioned how much I love this city?

(Photo: My Flickr)

a question, and so many answers.

2011-10-11T08:22:00.000-07:00

Recently, while talking to a friend, an interesting question arose--one that keeps twisting itself into my thoughts: When, she asked, do you feel most yourself?

Well, I told her, I feel most myself when I'm in the sun. During the summertime. When my hair is long and loose, my cheeks are a bit sunburnt, and the air carries just a hint of something coconut-scented. When I'm near the water, when I can see the ocean, when the sun sets in shades of pink so dark they're nearly purple.

When I'm wearing jeans and sandals. When I'm beside Radley. When I'm surrounded by family and friends and I'm laughing uncontrollably, inappropriately, at all the wrong times. When I'm biting and sarcastic. When I'm absurdly sentimental. When I'm in the middle of a long run, or a road trip, or a gripping heart-to-heart. When I run into the number thirty-three. When I'm sending the perfect birthday card.

Or when I'm dancing around in my own imagination, winding and unwinding the plot of my latest story. When a breeze drifts in through the open window and the room is filled with the click-click-clicking of computer keys. When the past sneaks into the present. When the present is filled with plans for the future. When inspiration strikes.

I feel most myself at concerts. At bookstores. At Broadway plays and hockey games and crowded cafes. With a camera or a novel or a bunch of red grapes in my hand. Wearing olive green or purple or the brightest, punchiest coral. On Fridays and Sundays.

I'm curious: When do you feel most yourself?

(Photo, 2008: A true "most myself" moment with Kel)

because she writes like no one else.

2011-10-10T06:00:00.000-07:00

"Since you left there's been a you-shaped space beside me, all the time. It never goes away."

- Marisa de los Santos, Falling Together

(Photo: Barb)

a weekend "trip."

2011-10-07T08:42:00.000-07:00

When I first came back from abroad, in an effort to hold onto the special magic of traveling, I liked to treat each weekend as if I were on vacation--as if I had two days to make the most of the city. I'd visit museums I'd never seen before and go to restaurants I'd passed hundreds of times but never actually tried. I skipped laundry in favor of happy hours, skipped the gym to see a new bookstore.

It made a real impact, and every once in a while I decide to do it all over again.

Instead of filling Saturdays with to-do after boring to-do, I make an effort to do something new or to go somewhere I've never gone before. Because it's important, I think, to carry that little spark of exploring into the everyday... and why not today, right?

Here's to a weekend trip... (right here at home!)

(Photo: My Flickr)

because the sight of the bridge still makes me giddy.

2011-10-06T06:00:00.000-07:00

Nothing like a total tourist day every once in a while, right?

Oh, but just a bit of advice: Don't wear heels to the headlands. (Rookie mistake.)

(Photos: My Flickr)

three weeks later.

2011-10-04T08:36:00.000-07:00

One day you feel like you've been dropped into a neighborhood you don't recognize. You wonder if you'll ever memorize the street names--if you'll ever learn where the hills rise, where the sidewalk sticks out into the street. You wonder if you'll ever get used to the trees.

And then, three weeks later, the local grocer knows your name, the barista down the street knows your order, and you can't remember how you ever lived without the smell of the ocean.

Funny how quickly a place can feel like yours.

(Photo: My Flickr)

a list of little things | how to brighten a foggy day

2011-10-03T06:00:00.000-07:00

Part Eleven in the List of Little Things series

How to Brighten a Foggy Day:

Make a coffee date with a friend. (Or yourself--People watching is underrated.)

Create a new playlist and sing/hum/bust a move accordingly.

Put on your most colorful, punchy lipstick. And shirt. And, in desperate times, shoes.

Read the first chapter of your all-time favorite book.

Run, walk, bike, scooter, race up and down the stairs: just move.

Shop! For anything--budget willing--or, well, nothing... (in which case you window shop.)

Go to a movie, maybe even a double feature, and snack on your favorite candy.

Rearrange your furniture or your bookshelves or any space that's yours.

Buy a magazine and read it cover-to-cover in one sitting.

Plan a dinner party/road trip/vacation/anything you can look forward to.

... Or, if all else fails, doodle. Yes, doodle. Because sometimes it really is that simple.

(Photo: My Flickr)

any advice?

2011-09-30T06:00:00.000-07:00

Since I've been a bit wordy this week (ha! as if that's ever not the case...) I thought I'd turn the tables for today and ask all of you for a bit of advice: What are your favorite sources for design inspiration? Any go-to sites? Blogs? Books? Radley and I are in love with our new space, and right now it's just a blank canvas waiting for us to make it our own--so any and all help would be appreciated!

As for me, I'm all about lots of white, lots of light, rustic accents, and pops of color. And Radley? Well, as he puts it: "I want things that are functional. And things that look good." (... Right.)

Hope you've all had a nice week!
Happy Friday :)

(Photo: Jan)

a night in sausalito.

2011-09-29T04:30:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's as simple as a walk along the water and a breeze blowing in from the bay.

Oh, and sky--a large, wide expanse of the clearest, bluest sky.

(Photos: My Flickr)

inevitability. or, regret and pancakes.

2011-09-28T04:30:00.000-07:00

As a writer, I'm guided by a feeling of inevitability--because that, to me, is the very heart of inspiration. It's as if words themselves already exist someplace and I'm simply putting them to paper. Of course, I'll think, as a story unravels itself, stretching across the page. Of course it was June, a Wednesday. Of course she carried mints instead of gum and read cookbooks on the subway, drank coffee black and beer from a bottle. When I write, even the smallest of details feel fated, as if they couldn't be any other way. And oh yes, yes, of course--of course!--the night ends with pancakes. Regret and pancakes.

Lately I've realized that sometimes, too, in real life--and not just in my fictional worlds--that same sort of feeling emerges every once in a while. I'll be walking down the street, lost in thought, or overhear a conversation about PBJ sandwiches on the bus, or be lying in the grass and smell lilacs where there are none--and all of a sudden I'll sense that maybe, just maybe, this second, this moment, was bound to happen. It will feel natural and expected, as if all along I may have known that I'd end up there.

All this is to say that... well, actually, I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. Maybe it's that certainty exists in strange places, or that some things--the tiniest of things in life--might be destined after all.

Or maybe it's just that some things are meant to be.

And that comfort, such incredible comfort, can be found in creativity.

(Photo: Mosbies)

settling in.

2011-09-26T09:15:00.003-07:00

Slowly but surely we are settling in and establishing ourselves, figuring out a routine that attempts to etch some sort of framework into our days. I've picked out My Treadmill at the gym, decided which coffee shop I'll frequent, learned to navigate the post office and the grocery store and, of course, the local bookstore. Over the past couple weeks I've memorized the layout of the neighborhood: the streets, the intersections, and--most importantly--the hills.

It's a strange business, this moving thing. Some mornings I wake up and can't remember where I am or why I'm here. Vacation? Dream? Somewhere in between? I stare up at our white vaulted ceilings and study the curve of the wall as I steady myself--root myself in reality. Usually this steadying comes quite quickly. Usually it's a matter of seconds before I can tick off what I know to be true: California. San Francisco. New apartment. New bedroom. New bed. This ceiling.

Every few days, though, I find myself suspended between confusion and certainty. In a grey area that feels more like a white space. I linger there for a while--not comfortable, exactly, but not altogether uncomfortable, either. It's sort of nice, actually. Sort of wonderful and freeing.

A new space, I've learned, opens me up. Unfolds me. And as I float in this wide expanse between opening and closing, I am learning. Day by day, hill by hill, I'm learning.

(Photo: My Flickr)

twitterpated.

2011-09-22T05:02:00.000-07:00

I'm a woman of love affairs--passionate ones, lifelong ones.

There's my devoted and delicious affair with my favorite foods: with raw almond butter, with red grapes, with pineapple and guacamole and Mrs. Fields peanut butter cookies because ohmygod how are they always so perfectly soft?

There's my undying, eternal attachment to my favorite cities. To Chicago's people and skyline, its everyday energy. To San Diego's sun and beaches, the way time seems to move more slowly there and the sunsets seem to last forever. To Oxford, my dear and wonderful Oxford, to the British accents and the stone castles and the hidden alleyways filled with cozy bookstores, candy shops, and the sort of pubs that carry stories in their walls.

And, if I'm being honest, there's the sudden and overwhelming love affair I've struck up with my new neighborhood, my new city, with the view from my rooftop (above) that's swept me quite quickly off my feet.

We're in the honeymoon stage, San Francisco and me. The city's showing off, parading around all of its best assets: cloudless cerulean skies, cool breezes, sun so wonderfully warm it elicits a sigh. And I know it may not last--I know that there will be days when the fog rolls in, when the rain is falling and I wake up late and my love for Chicago itches at the back of my throat.

But for now, I'm just soaking it up. For now I'm in the sweet and simple, giddy and carefree beginnings of what I can already sense is an affair to be reckoned with.

This honeymoon stage, it's a damn fine stage.

How good it feels to once again call California home.

(Photo: My Flickr)

because family weddings are the absolute best.

2011-09-21T05:02:00.000-07:00

Our last weekend in Chicago was spent in the most perfect of ways: at my brother's 9.10.11 wedding. It was such a beautiful day, and there's just nothing I love more than having the entire family together.

There were hilarious speeches, some seriously sweet cake (Sorry, Radley, I ate yours), the most awkward photo booth pictures in the world, and a whole lot of "Crazy Legs" dance moves busted out with our nieces and nephews.

Oh, and did I mention that it's the happiest I've ever seen my brother?

That he was glowing and laughing, smiling ear to ear nearly the entire day? (Nothing better.)

Congratulations, David and Amy!

the power to heal.

2011-09-20T05:32:00.000-07:00

The sound of seagulls, of waves crashing, of boats and foghorns and creaky docks.

The taste of fresh, salty air wafting along the bayfront.

The feel of a crisp breeze and warm sun on your face--a sensation of being lifted.

The scent of recently cut grass and coffee and flowers.

The view of water, so much water, extending as far as you can see--all the way to the horizon.

... When they say that salt water has the power to heal, I doubt they mean just the sight of it.

But sometimes, I think that's all it takes. Sometimes, that's enough.

(Photos: My Flickr)

a long, easy exhale.

2011-09-19T08:00:00.001-07:00

At last.

That's the thought that keeps running through my head: At last, we are here. At last, California. For so long we've known that we were moving. For so long we've been talking about it and preparing for it and waiting waiting waiting, but at long last we are here. In a lovely little neighborhood with a lovely little view, and only six blocks from the water. We are here.

On the surface, last week seemed a bit hectic. There were (several) necessary Target runs, some furniture shopping, some furniture selling, tons of tiny errands and plenty of organizing. But even as we were running around--even in the midst of cleaning and lifting and hauling and sorting--it all felt like one giant sigh of relief. Like a long, easy exhale. All the anxious anticipation that had been building up over the past few months released itself at the sight of the ocean. At the sight of boats and kites and a sunset over the water. At last.

Oh, and I must mention the walks, the heavenly early morning walks we've been taking each morning. Hand-in-hand we stroll along the waterfront--coffees clutched in our free hands, of course--as we watch the fog roll over the bridge.

This week, and for the few that follow, we'll be in my favorite phase of moving: settling in. There's nothing like the feeling of a fresh start, and I'm thrilled at the chance to arrange things just so, to create a special space for this new chapter we've begun. Routine, too--I'm looking forward to that, to the simplicity of steady days and a sense of pattern in our lives.

The transition to San Francisco has been a smooth one--natural, even--and although I already find myself missing family and friends, I'm glad to say that I'm more than a little happy. I'm calm and contented and comfortable. And comfort, I think, carries the promise that things are right.

At last.

(Photo: My Flickr)

en route to california...

2011-09-12T06:31:00.000-07:00

At long last, today is the day!

(Moving day, that is.)

Radley and I are officially on our way to San Francisco, finding ourselves a little bit sad to leave Chicago but oh-so-excited to settle in California again. Our car has shipped, our furniture has shipped, and now our new little apartment is just waiting for us to move in.

... Oh, and in case you're curious: Yes, yes we do have an entire mix of California-themed songs stuck in our heads. There's the OC theme song, "California Love," "Hotel California," Notorious B.I.G.'s "Going Back to Cali," and--last but not least--"California Gurls."

I have a feeling this is going to be a really, really good week.

(Photo: My Flickr)

a wedding frenzy.

2011-09-09T06:40:00.000-07:00

One grandma, two parents, two brothers, two sister-in-laws, one sister, one brother-in-law, three nephews, two nieces, one fiance, and me: all of us are packed up and heading south for my other brother's 9.10.11 wedding! Oh how I love family wedding weekends...

Happy Friday!

(Photo: My Flickr)

on my grandmother, and the sun.

2011-09-08T06:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my grandmother and I bonded over our shared love of the sun. Walking through the arboretum, watching the sunlight flicker between the trees, we gushed. And gushed. And gushed.

She spoke of the years she spent living on Kauai with my grandfather and of her sun-filled lifestyle in Arizona. Of waking up with the sunrise and starting her day with an outdoor swim. I nodded, telling her about all the little ways I try to sneak extra sun into my day.

"Even if I'm inside," I told her, "I like to be in the lightest of spaces. Plenty of windows and everything white. Lots and lots of clean, crisp white."

"Yes!" she said, squealing in spite of herself. "When you walk into a light space, or when you walk outside and into the sun, you can feel yourself open up. Know what I mean?"

Open up. "Yes," I said. "Yes, you're exactly right. That's it."

Nanny put it perfectly, because it's that opening up feeling that I crave. The sensation of lifting, as if my spirit is stretching out. As if I'm unfolding.

There are several things that Nanny has passed down to me: a flair for the dramatic, a passion for bright colors and beautiful gardens and juicy gossip. We both laugh loudly and write often. We both appreciate organization and timeliness, nice stationery and powerful films. And I've always loved it--always delighted in our similarities.

But this, I've decided, is what I love most: that every time I step into the daylight--every time I push open the curtains or crack open a window to let the sunshine fill the space and unfold me, I'll think of her.

(Photo: My Flickr)

present and in awe.

2011-09-07T08:47:00.000-07:00

"This is our goal as writers, I think; to help others have this sense of--please forgive me--wonder, of seeing things anew, things that can catch us off guard, that break in on our small, bordered worlds. When this happens, everything feels more spacious. Try walking around with a child who's going, "Wow, wow! Look at that dirty dog! Look at that burned-down house! Look at that red sky!" And the child points and you look, and you see, and you start going, "Wow! Look at that huge crazy hedge! Look at that teeny little baby! Look at the scary dark cloud!" I think this is how we are supposed to be in the world--present and in awe."

- the lovely Anne Lamott

(Photo: Chris Deve)

the in-between time.

2011-09-06T06:40:00.000-07:00

The moving process can be a bit overwhelming. First, there's the physical challenge of packing up all of your belongings--bubble wrapping and bagging and boxing and taping until you're dizzy and delirious. And then, of course, there's the emotional part of it, the heaviness that seems to settle itself on your chest as you empty out every corner of the space you've come to love.

It was strange to leave our first apartment on Friday. That night we sat cross-legged on the bare hardwood floor, our backs against the bare walls, our voices echoing in the empty room as we listed our favorite memories. "Putting up our first Christmas tree," Radley said, "with the fireplace on and Nat King Cole playing." I nodded, adding: "When we first moved in and didn't have any furniture, so we invited friends over for Chinese takeout and living room picnics."

Back and forth, back and forth. We rattled off all the best moments from the past two years, laughing and saying--over and over again--how great it's all been. How much we love this city and the people in it. How happy we are, and how grateful.

It was tough, then, to walk away--to close the door on a life we started here. But it was exciting, too--really, really exciting--because we're thrilled to be heading back to the west coast... See, there have been a lot of emotions lately. And that, of course, is the understatement of the century. Moving, I've learned, tends to be a mixed bag, and we've found ourselves varying somewhere between anxious and elated, somewhere between crestfallen and over-the-moon. So it goes, right?

In the meantime, during our last week in Chicago, we're staying at my parents' house in Glen Ellyn--and I'm finding that this quiet calm after the moving storm is exactly what we needed. Giant family games of charades and Monopoly (we actually finished!), early mornings spent playing soccer and tossing the football with Radley and my nephews, breakfast dates and sunset walks and afternoons spent sitting beside the lake with a good book...

It's the best way to finish out our time here, and I really couldn't feel better about all of it.
And what a good feeling that is--to believe that what you're doing is right.
It's the best kind of trust, I think.

(Photos: My Flickr)

on changing seasons.

2011-09-01T13:26:00.000-07:00

Over time I've noticed that, for whatever reason, a changing season carries with it a series of expectations. Autumn, to me, will always mean a new beginning--a fresh start and a chance for life to both literally and figuratively become crisper, clearer. With September underway and fall fast approaching, I find myself calming down a bit because I have confidence in the season. Experience has taught me that good things happen this time of year, and that as the heat lifts, so will my spirit.

I love summer, I do, but there's something about fall that reenergizes. Now that grad school is over, this will be my first fall not returning to classes--although, to be fair, I've still used September 1st as an excuse to buy new office supplies. Still: even though I won't be buying any textbooks, and even though my routine won't involve a set of writing assignments, I still carry that same New Student brand of hope--that same eager anticipation of what's to come, of what sort of enlivening everyday routine will follow the laziest of summer days.

All this is to say, then, I suppose, that autumn bears hope.

I'm curious: What does fall mean to you?
What have you come to expect this time of year?

(Photo | Fall 2010: My Flickr)

something to remember.

2011-09-01T04:30:00.000-07:00

"We tend to value order and control over randomness, but when we lose randomness, we also lose serendipity."

- Dalton Conley in The New York Times

(Photo: Malcolm Cowe)

our last weekend in chicago: the "bon voyage" party.

2011-08-31T06:40:00.021-07:00

On Saturday, my parents threw Radley and I a "Bon Voyage" party to send us off and give us the chance to see family and friends one last time before we go. My mom and her best friend are quite the party hosts, so the entire beer garden at Casey Moran's was decked out in Chicago/San Francisco-themed decorations. There were flowers and posters and balloons and candies colored to match our city's sports teams--not to mention some seriously hilarious lollipops...

Great food, great drinks, cupcakes from Sweet Mandy B's, glow-in-the-dark bracelets, dancing, strings of lights, plus sixty of our closest friends and family. I was overwhelmed with gratitude--giddy--and found myself laughing until I cried at several points throughout the night.

The next day, Radley and I kept looking at each other and saying what we'd already said, over and over again, all morning: "That. Was. The best night. Ever." And it was--it really was--because it isn't every day you get to see so many of the people you love all in one place. As one friend put it, the party was just a bit of practice for our wedding day :)

A heartfelt thank you to all our family and friends who came out this weekend--and an even bigger thanks to Mom and Dad for thinking to do something so special for us. It truly was the perfect ending to the most incredible couple of years, and I couldn't think of a better way to kick off our next chapter.

our last weekend in chicago: part 1.

2011-08-30T06:31:00.037-07:00

I've already (repeatedly, emphatically) professed my love for Radley. And for my best friends Erin and Kelly. And for outdoor summer dinners. And for XOCO restaurant. And so, when all of those things came together on Friday night, I was beside myself with happiness. I was over the moon, so giddy I found myself taking it all in again and again--creating mental snapshots I'll remember forever.

It's always been important to me that I find a guy my friends appreciate--and, of course, a guy who appreciates them in return. So I feel beyond blessed to have found someone who doesn't just like my friends but loves them, someone my friends don't just approve of, but actually adore.

With cool, crisp air and a clear sky, Friday was the sort of night that calls for long walks and light conversation, and so we wandered our way around the city, laughing and singing and shouting out all of our favorite inside jokes. And I know this seems overdramatic, but everything just felt right that night--like I was exactly where I was supposed to be, with all the right people standing beside me.

I'm quite the sap (obviously), and at some point I'm sure Radley, Erin, and Kel will tire of me saying how much I love them--how much it means to me that, in them, I've found what it means to create your own family. Until then, though, I'm just going to keep saying it, over and over, because when it comes right down to it, you can never say it enough--let alone too much.