Sunset at The Grand Canyon

Last spring, I had my first visit to a national park with a visit to Yosemite. I know I have waxed on many times about how glorious that trip was for me, but it truly affected me in the most profound way, and I couldn't wait until I could repeat the experience at national park #2: The Grand Canyon.

Unlike Yosemite--which I had heard little to nothing about--one has undoubtedly heard many reports of The Grand Canyon. Last year, a colleague returned from a trip there and explained his experience looking into that vast expanse as a feeling that "We are so small, and God is so great." One person told me about how her husband found it so overwhelming he could barely look at it for more than short periods at a time. Just comprehending the Canyon's depth--a mile down below--seems so impossible that it was easy to imagine that it was just too much.

When we first arrived at The Grand Canyon, parked our car at a vista point, and took in the view below, it was definitely magnificent. Certainly vast. Certainly unlike anything I'd ever seen before. But, if I'm being honest, at first I was a bit underwhelmed. Had my expectations not been so high and the reports of the Canyon's grandeur not been so great, I'm sure I would have been floored, but given what I'd heard (not to mention the countless postcard-perfect photographs I'd seen), I found it to be beautiful, but not quite as overwhelming and incomprehensible as I'd imagined. I wasn't disappointed--just a little surprised not be completely and totally blown away.

I learned, as the day went on, that part of the Canyon's magic and mystique comes from seeing it from different perspectives. As we drove and walked and took the shuttle from vista point to vista point, the grandeur of the place started to sink in and there were endless beautiful views, but something still wasn't quite clicking for me. I did not feel the same instant love--or the same feelings of intimacy--that I experienced at Yosemite. Perhaps it was the vastness of it. Perhaps it was the seeming lack of variety in the landscape (rock after rock after rock). Perhaps it was the lack of abundant trees (I'm a girl who loves her green). It was beautiful, no doubt, but it didn't stir my soul in the same way.

At the start of the day, we (me, Dan, his mom, and his sister) had decided that we were going to stick around the park until sunset. About eight hours later, plagued by vertigo and sunburnt skin and dehydration, tired from endless walking and shuttling about and waiting for each other countless times for bathroom breaks, I wondered if we really had the stamina to give it a go, and if it would really be worth it. For a moment I contemplated suggesting we just go back to the hotel, but then it felt silly not to just stick around for another hour, so I dug deep for a second wind.

We opted to forgo the most popular sunset viewing spot and picked another vista point. Compared to other points at the park, it was pretty sparsely populated--about a dozen or so other people sat nearby. We carefully climbed over the low wall to stake out our spot. It's hard to comprehend from this photo, but just over the edge of where I'm sitting here is, in fact, a long mile down.

After a day of looking at The Grand Canyon from dozens of spots, and after taking dozens of photos, I feel that, in many ways, sitting there out on that point at sunset was the first time I truly saw The Grand Canyon. The harsh light of day had softened, and the sun brought the colors and textures to life in the most incredible way. The crowds were gone, and we were seated with a small group of people who rarely spoke in little more than a whisper. After a while, the cameras were mostly put away. We were there, not looking for a few minutes and then moving on to the next spot, but sitting quietly for well over half an hour, just waiting for the sun to slowly descend. Once I had that moment to really just be with The Grand Canyon--rather than to be a spectator of it--my heart opened up to it in a new way. I had tried to be present with it all day but had not found the right moment until then. Even now, just thinking about the way it felt sitting there with the golden sun all around, in the chilling wind, with the vastness all around me and down below me, with the sun setting fire to the colors, makes my chest ache with the memory of the beauty of the landscape, the feeling of peace, and the sense of oneness with everything.

I could post dozens of other photos from our trip, but you've likely seen them on my Facebook page. If you haven't, the others I took look at lot like the ones you've probably seen in books or in calendars or those from other people's trips. We got some really nice ones, but the one above is my favorite. At the time, I didn't even know that Dan was taking this photo, but for me it captures the moment where I felt that feeling of awe. That feeling of being one with something so big and beautiful and knowing that somehow, in some way, we are all where we should be. That feeling of wanting to shout and dance and sing about the beauty of life and all the wonderment in the world. That was what I had come for. And The Grand Canyon did not disappoint.

Year 32

Truthfully I'm not even sure what's happened to the last three weeks. In my memory everything is just one big blur: birthday celebrations, visits with friends, a job interview and an offer and salary negotiations, walks in the spring sunshine, a Passover Seder and an Easter brunch, looking at houses, a dinner with relatives, phone dates, volunteering at The Philadelphia International Festival of the Arts. . . the list goes on and on.

Thus has begun the first few weeks of my 32nd year. I decided, about a week before my birthday, that this year was going to be the best one yet. Not that I know that to be true, but that I need to believe it to be true--and perhaps believing it is the first step to making it happen. On my 32nd birthday, while walking around the mall with Dan before popping into The Cheesecake Factory for a birthday treat, I got a call. A call with a job offer. Very exciting indeed. After several days going back and forth about salary and start date, of weighing all the pros and cons of an awesome job with a lousy commute, of trying to silence the endless stream of "What ifs?" that are always in my head, of reminding myself that what is familiar is not always best and that I can't plan for every contingency, I took the job. I start May 31. I can't wait to begin this new chapter getting back to work that really means something to me--supporting children with disabilities (in this case, autism) and their families, at an awesome organization, in a move that will help propel my career forward.

I feel as though I've been scrambling up a wall and tumbling back down for months and months, just needing something to happen. Now, finally, I feel like I've made some headway over the top. Things are starting to move in the direction I've been hoping for, making it so much easier to hope for more. Along with the job, there has been other good news. After spending the last few years really wishing for friends nearby, Dan and I both realized this week that we've had so many outings with new friends that we're looking forward to some time to ourselves! Dan got a story accepted for publication in a print journal last week, which is amazing, and his mom, who graduates with her Masters in Library Science on Friday, just landed a job. The weight loss I began last year has turned into maintaining my new weight for the last several months--no easy feat. And who can feel anything but good with this amazing spring weather?

Though there's still lots I'm hoping and waiting for, including finding a house to buy and getting my business launched part-time (both of which are on hold for a bit), I feel like I can finally take a moment to breathe. As much as I've tried to stay focused on the present and be grateful for the endless blessings in my life, I haven't been able to help wanting more and wishing I could get a break. I've spent a lot of time in the last year or so paralyzed by doubt and fear and having moments where I've been convinced that things just couldn't go my way. I feel like, with these new good things, I feel empowered to make more things happen.

On Wednesday, Dan and I leave for Arizona to attend his mother's graduation. Later in the week, we are driving to The Grand Canyon, where we'll stay for two days. I've been told that nothing can prepare you for what you experience at The Grand Canyon when standing on its rim. I can't wait to be there, looking out over something so vast and ancient and unknowable, knowing that I will likely feel just as I felt at Yosemite--that everything is so mysterious and out of my control, and yet, all in its rightful place. As I wait for the next pieces to fall into place over the next year, I feel reassured that even though there is much that is unknown and worrisome, with a little hope and some acts of faith on my part, things will probably unfold as they should. And even if they don't, I can't avoid peering over the edge of that big abyss and risk missing the wonder that might be in store.

I'm hoping that, as I begin the next year, I'll leave behind the doubts and fears that have plagued me and keep moving forward to create a better version of myself and my life. I feel good. And happy. And hopeful. Here's to a great start to my 32nd year!

This I Believe

While taking a class at my church, our minister encouraged everyone in the class to write our own "This I Believe" statements. If you're not familiar, This I Believe encourages people to write and submit essays about their core values and beliefs. In addition to being posted on their website, essays are regularly featured on NPR.

I've actually contemplated doing something like this before, but there was never any real impetus to do it. Nudged into action by my minister and classmates, I wrote my belief statement in a couple of hours on a Monday night. I was a little surprised at what actually came out--but looking at it again a few weeks later, I can see that it fits perfectly. At my minister's request, I shared it with the congregation during a Sunday service a couple of weeks ago. I thought that I might also share it with you.

This I Believe: March 21, 2011

I am the girl who does not kill bugs. The girl who gets annoyed with her husband when he squishes a fruit fly. The girl who makes a secret pact with the spider in the corner that if he promises not to crawl on me during the night, I will pretend I never saw him.

My reason for not killing bugs is not because I particularly like them (I don’t). It is not because I don’t want to be cruel (though I don’t). It is not because I believe in reincarnation and think one day I might come back as a bug myself (though I don’t rule out the possibility). It is because, more than anything, I value the gift of life so much that I don’t want to rob anyone—or anything—of even a few precious moments of breath.

I believe that life is short and full and messy and fragile and indescribably, almost painfully, beautiful. There are times that I look at the sun through the leaves or taste the first strawberries of spring or rub my hands along the table my grandfather made and find it all so wonderful that I can hardly breathe. The richness of the world astounds me, and I believe the greatest tragedy would be to be here and to miss it.

I believe my highest tasks are to savor every moment of this life I’ve been given, and to do all that I can to ensure that others can do the same. It is for these reasons that I sometimes swing at the playground on my lunch breaks, that I encourage my coworkers to take every last one of their vacation days, that I chose a career as a social worker to help others have every opportunity at a full and joyous life. It is for these reasons that I try with all my might to stop and to breathe and to look and to listen and to feel and to feel and to feel. And it is for these reasons that I do not kill bugs, for who is to say that their short life on Earth is of lesser value than mine?

It’s likely that the bugs I ignore or take outside will, at best, live a matter of weeks or months. It’s even more likely that they will get stepped on, or drown in a puddle, or get eaten by a hungry bird. But until that happens, perhaps they will enjoy a tasty leaf, or feel the warmth of the sun, or emerge from the chrysalis into something beautiful and new. And I believe that they deserve those small joys, even if they don’t recognize them as such. Knowing that we are all but tiny specks on a continuum beyond our understanding, I believe that we all have the right—and the responsibility—to savor every moment we are given on this Earth. Every person, every animal, every being. Even the bugs.

Sometimes, You Just Need a Little Sun

Though I sit writing on a rainy, chilly day, we have finally had some days here where it seems that spring has sprung. The daffodils have peeked out of the ground, the trees are in bloom, and the temperature has reached 70+ degrees at least a little here and there. Last weekend, for the first time in a long time, I realized that the day was filled with sounds of birds in the trees. When I head out to the gym at 6:30 in the morning, it's actually light outside and I'm not bundled up in a winter coat and gloves (this definitely makes it much easier to get moving).

I am a true lover of the seasons. I adore the fall and winter months. I've never considered myself to be someone who was affected much by the long, gray days of winter. But it seems that the arrival of spring is really making a big difference in my mood. . . and my optimism.

This week, I began my usual routine of taking walks on my lunch breaks whenever I can. I'm fortunate that my office is in a pretty residential area, so it's easy for me to get away from traffic and people and take long walks on quiet streets with nothing but my thoughts and my iPod. In addition to that, Dan and I have been taking short walks after work whenever we can. Last Thursday, we were walking down the tree-lined streets of our happy little town and I just closed my eyes, feeling the sun on my face and breathing in the spring air.

When I find myself in the messes and crises and worries that one sometimes finds oneself in, I tend to think that I need a big change: a new job, a new house, a vacation. And it's true that I might those things. But sometimes--in the meantime--the littlest things can really do the trick. Sometimes you don't need a grand gesture or a big change or a neatly wrapped solution. Sometimes, it seems, all you need is a little sun.

What I Need Today

Unsurprisingly, I haven't found many answers in response to my mini-crisis of the past week (wouldn't it be nice if things wrapped themselves up that neatly?). Right now, I think the hardest part is figuring out what I need, and what I need to do next. Thankfully, I'm not completely without hope or in the pits of despair. (As a side note, should I report that I have failed to change out of pajamas for two days, that I have eaten nothing but popcorn, Bagel Bites, and ice cream for more than 24 hours, and that I am watching endless episodes of "Party of Five" on DVD, then you will know I have reached that point.)

I have a lot to think (and feel) through and a lot to figure out. When I think about it all--and I am a classic overthinker--I start to feel like I can't breathe. So, I am here to remind myself that I don't have to figure it all out today. As much as my brain loves to zoom into the future, I don't need to know right now exactly what I need to get myself to the finish line. And, even then, there is no finish line. We are all works in progress, which really is a good thing, even though it sometimes doesn't feel that way.

Instead of trying to figure out what I need to jump start the next big chapter of my life, I'm just going to start with what I need today. What my little soul needs to get some care and love and energy and faith. What it needs to take one step forward. So, little mind and body, here is what you should work on acquiring ASAP to help get your heart and soul in order:

• A cup of mint tea. When in doubt, always start with a cup of tea.

• Some time among the trees. It's possible that so much time indoors over the winter months has made you a bit crazy. Get thee to the park. Lay in the grass. Take a hike. Remember how much the trees and the sounds of the birds and the smell of the clean air make you feel new again.

• Deep breaths. You must do this. Even when you think you can't make your heart and mind stop racing long enough to make it happen.

• Five minutes a day doing absolutely nothing but watching the cats. That's right. Just sit and stare at them. See how happy they are, stretching in the sun? How peaceful they look napping on the sofa? They are not thinking about what they did yesterday or worrying about what they'll do tomorrow. They just sleep, and play, and look forward to their next tasty treat. They just. . . are. Very wise. A very good example.

• Dancing time. As a start, might I suggest "Walking on Sunshine" and "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" to get you moving.

• Along that line, time to listen to cheesy songs that strangely make you feel better even though you are embarrassed to admit it. Songs like Jordin Sparks' "One Step at a Time" and Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror" and Kirk Franklin's "Gonna Be a Lovely Day." (Yep, that's right, I just publicly admitted that I have all of these songs on my iPod.)
  

• Dan hugs. Also, copious amounts of snuggle time.

• Lots of stretching right before bed. You are a classic tension carrier. Don't take all that stress with you into your dreams.
  

• Some inspiration. Project for the week: make an inspiration binder. Find all those wonderful quotes that make you feel strong and all those articles and blog posts that give you energy and all the nice letters and e-mails that tell you how fabulous you are. Put them in one place. In a place where they are always nearby. In a place where you can see them and read them over and over anytime you need them.

And so, I start the little steps toward the big steps. The little things to help me tackle the big things ahead. For now, I'm off to do some stretching make a cup of mint tea.

Stuck

The best way to describe my mental state of late can best be described in one work: "stuck." I feel stuck in my house. Stuck at my job. Stuck in bad habits. Stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck.

I realize, of course, that it is within my power to get unstuck. I'm just having some trouble figuring out how to do that, or what "unstuck" would even look like for me.

On the house front, we haven't found much in the way of real possibilities. Of course, it's still early in the game, but it's definitely been a bit frustrating to have all the momentum of finding a Realtor and getting together our financing and making the decision to make the leap and then just . . . waiting. We'll find the right house. I know we will. But until then, it's hard to stop endlessly daydreaming about home decorating and renovations, which is fun to think about but also a little frustrating when you can't actually do it.

On the job/career front, things are a bit more complicated. I have totally reached a state of inertia with my business planning. This is not good, but it is the truth, and I've been trying to figure out what is going on. I know that a big part of it is probably fear of failure--as I get closer to the actual point of launch, the point at which I actually need to take a real risk comes closer and closer, and I am sometimes lousy at risk-taking. I knew the fear of failure hurdle would probably be the biggest one for me to jump.

It's a little more than that, though. To be honest, while a lot of my initial excitement about the prospect of launching has slowly faded away (or been overshadowed by other feelings), so has the encouragement of a lot of family and friends, which I guess I was relying on more than I realized. People have stopped asking me much about my business plans, or at least asking me about it with any enthusiasm. I don't blame them, since I haven't talked much about it, but it has definitely fed my self-doubt. When I went home to Georgia, I sent an e-mail to my family and friends asking if they (or anyone they knew) had any organizing projects I could help them with for free to help build my portfolio. I got only one response, and zero takers. Perhaps people didn't need any help, or perhaps no one reads e-mail anymore, but it's hard to believe in what I'm doing if my family and friends aren't even interested in my services when I'm offering them up for free. Sigh. I know their lack of response wasn't necessarily a reflection on how they feel about my business, and I know that as an entrepreneur I can't rely on outside reinforcement all the time, but I was already feeling a little low about things, and that just seemed to push me deeper into the hole of self-doubt that I'm having trouble crawling out of.

So, yes. That is not good. I must get out of my self-doubt funk. This is, naturally, easier said than done.

On top of all that, my time at home made me finally acknowledge something I've known for a long time: I really need to find a new job. When I was answering the usual "How's your job going?" question while talking to family and friends, I could barely even answer it because I hate talking about my job that much. Two people told me, "You sound like you need to get out of there," and they are right. I've known that I needed to get out for a long time (pretty much since I started), but I've been trying to figure out this balance between my long-term and short-term needs. Long-term, I know that doing something like my business would make me happiest, but it's not something that will happen overnight. While I want to really make a career shift and not just a job change, I'm working at a job that in a lot of ways sucks the life out of me and chips away at my feelings of self-efficacy, which is counterproductive for a business launch. I'm definitely finding that trying to get my business going while working a job that gnaws away at pieces of me is not really working out so well.

I've been thinking for the last few weeks about looking for another job. I definitely need a change, and even though it's not the long-term change I'm hoping for, perhaps it will still be for the best. Unfortunately, though, it's probably going to mean a delay of my long-term plans: a job search consumes so much time and energy, and I will probably need some time to adjust to the changes of a new job before I'm ready to refocus my energy on the business again. There is, also, the possible implications on what a new job would mean for our home financing, as I'm not sure a loan officer would look favorably on a switch, so I could put our home buying in jeopardy. And to be honest, none of the jobs I've seen out there really excite me. The upside of knowing what I want to do long-term is that I know what I'd like to do. The downside is that anything that's not that doesn't feel worth doing. So I'm faced with wondering whether I find anything I can have at least some enthusiasm for, put in the energy to go for it, and then adjust to it all while not losing sight of my long-term goals, which will inevitably be put on hold.

And, so, this is where I'm at. And to be honest, it kind of sucks. I'm usually pretty good at putting a positive spin on things and maintaining my optimism, but tonight I just feel frustrated. And sad. And unsure. And stuck. And lonely in the midst of it all.

Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived in That House

Being pretty single-mindedly obsessed with all things real estate these days, I requested a copy of Meghan Daum's memoir Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived in That House from the library when I set out to read my next book. The book recounts the author's decades-long search for the "perfect" place to live and her relentless pursuit of prime real estate. I thought the book would, if nothing else, give me some insight into the home-buying process. Naturally, though, the book (and my reaction to it) is more than just about real estate.

To sum it up, the book is about "what happens when, for whatever reason, your identity becomes almost totally wrapped up not in who you are or how you live but in where you live." In her search for the perfect address and a home complete with wainscoting and perfectly lined bookshelves and tasteful art and well-tended houseplants, she says, "I thought I was only as good as my color scheme, my drawer pulls, my floors" and that "only a house could make you whole."

While I can't say that I've ever equated a house with wholeness, I definitely recognized some of myself in this sentiment. I can't remember a time when I didn't feel that the space that I lived in needed to be an accurate reflection of myself (or who I perceived myself to be). In high school, I was frustrated beyond measure that I wasn't allowed to paint the walls in my bedroom and was limited to hanging only a few pictures. In college, I covered nearly every square inch of my dorm room space with posters and pictures and inspirational quotes in an effort to express myself. In apartment after apartment, I've felt frustrated with my inability (or unwillingness) to paint or change counter tops or install new light fixtures in order to make a place my own. I've been dreaming of the day when I could buy the "perfect" house and make it just like I want it.

Of course, there's definitely something to be said for wanting where you live to be a reflection of who you are. How we design and use our spaces allows us endless opportunities to express ourselves and our creativity, and we can't help but want to live in a neighborhood that feels like "us." But this book reminded me that there is a fine line between allowing your house to reflect who you are and allowing your house to define who you are. There have definitely been moments in my search for places to live over the years where I've perhaps tiptoed over that line, and nothing seems to have brought this out more than my search for a place to buy.

I have often daydreamed of being settled into an airy, bright, urban-but-not-too-modern home with gleaming hardwood floors, lots of windows, perfect paint colors and expertly placed IKEA light fixtures and accessories. Naturally, it will be an older home with lots of charming features like arched doorways and crown molding and original woodwork. Naturally, there will also be a roaring fireplace, a cozy (but not too manicured) garden, endless shelves of books (see how smart and cultured I am?) and a reading nook. Organic herbs will grow in pots on the kitchen windowsill. I will host fabulous backyard dinner parties that last well into the night under strings of outdoor lights with colorful paper globes. Dan and I will have the luxury of walking everywhere. Though I have two cats, amazingly no one will ever see a litter box in my house.

You can see that I have a bit of a problem. This is, of course, all fantasizing, and in most moments I recognize that it is not grounded in reality. But I do have moments where I realize that I've gotten a bit too wrapped up in the idea that life would in fact be perfect (or at least be better) if I just found the right house.

To start, of course, there is no perfect house. If there is a perfect place, I probably cannot afford it. And even if there were such a perfect (and perfectly affordable) place, and even if I felt that it perfectly reflected me, who I am and what I want is invariably going to change. And then there is, of course, the fact that a house is not a home. It is a thing. It is made of stuff. The things that truly make a home a home have nothing to do with original hardwood floors or crown molding or a perfectly sized yard.

Anyone who has bought a house will probably tell you that you start out with your "dream" house in mind and adjust your expectations as the reality of what is available and what you can afford starts to really sink in. Dan and I could both tell you that we are no exception to this rule. In some ways, I think perhaps this has been harder for me than it probably is for most people. I'm continually working to remind myself of the following:

a) Just because I am still a renter does not mean I have somehow failed at being a grown-up

b) My house is a place to live, not a place to impress

c) My friends and family will be happy to come see me even if we are in a slightly cramped living room or the carpet is ugly or I don't have a fabulous back deck

d) I don't have to wait to be a homeowner before I embark on doing all the things you aren't "supposed" to do until after you are "settled" (e.g., I should ignore the people who say ridiculous things like, "I guess you guys probably aren't planning on having kids soon since you haven't bought a house yet.")

e) Once I do find a house and make it my own, I will not suddenly feel perfectly at home in the world, settled into my perfect life in the perfect place and ready for the rest of my life to begin

The good news? Dan and I put in an offer on a house yesterday. A perfectly cute Cape Cod on a ridiculously cute street. A place with hardwood floors and a new kitchen with granite counter tops and arched doorways and charming alcoves. The sellers responded with a counteroffer today--one that indicates that they are unwilling to budge in their efforts to sell the house for more than what it's worth. And so, without a moment's hesitation or regret, we walked away. Nearly perfect as that house might have been, we knew that it is not our house. Our less than perfect house is still out there waiting for us somewhere. And when we find it, we will embrace it, faults and all.

New Things: Weeks 12-14

In my mind, the last few weeks are blurred together in a fog of long work hours and busy weekends, so my new things for the last three weeks are going to have to appear in one post this time around.

First new thing: hitting the 3-mile mark on the treadmill! It's been a long while since I've run three miles, and I wasn't even planning to try for that when I started running one Saturday morning, but I was feeling good, I kept pushing through, and then I realized I'd done it, almost by accident. Perhaps it is time to consider another 5K, though it's been almost three years since my last one!

The second new thing was getting started on the website for my business. This might not sound like a big deal, but I often get paralyzed when it comes to all things technical, so I put this off for a long time because I didn't want to deal with figuring out how to go about choosing a host, finding the right template, etc. It's still a work in progress, but the most important thing was getting started, so that is one huge hurdle jumped.

The last new thing. . . and definitely the biggest. . . is that Dan and I have begun our search for a home in earnest. We toyed with the idea last summer, but we weren't sure that we were ready financially, and there wasn't a whole lot on the market in our price range to really peak our interest. We've seen a few things emerging on the market so far this year that have really gotten us thinking it's time to make a move, so we've engaged a Realtor and are officially starting our hunt. We've popped into several open houses and had our first scheduled showing over the weekend. We anticipate it will take some time to find the right place, as things don't come on the market in our area all that often, but luckily we are in a position to be patient. I am just thrilled to my fingertips at the thought of being a homeowner. I'll keep you posted as things move forward, but in the meantime, just imagine me daydreaming about paint colors, a real kitchen, storage space for home-canned veggies and home-brewed beer, a garden, and a compost pile.

Little Bursts of Happiness

I knew it had been a little while since I'd been on the blog, but I was honestly a bit shocked when I finally opened it up this afternoon and realized it had been almost three weeks since my last post. Not sure how that happened.

Lately the best description of my life and state of mind can probably be described in one word: tired. We are at the peak of tax preparation time at my job, which I find to be rewarding (and even fun) work but which takes 15-20 hours per week of my time, without any unloading of my typical full-time responsibilities. I've been coming home late a lot and skipping lunch. And, believe me, you do not want to be around me when I have skipped lunch. Jenn + hungry = bitchy monster.

On the upside, there have been good things keeping me busy, and many little bursts of happiness. Plane tickets have been purchased for our trip to Arizona in May, and I am so stoked to be taking a trip and seeing the Grand Canyon that I am already daydreaming about packing my suitcase. I decided to make a (rather impromptu) trip to Georgia in March, so a ticket has been purchased for that also. I'm a little ashamed to say that I haven't been to Georgia since Thanksgiving 2009; I'm excited to see my family and friends and have to admit that I might even be equally excited about fries, feta dip, and a veggie BLT at The Grill.

Also in new happy news. . . regular girls' nights appear to be in my future! I am SO excited about this. The last time I really had a local group of girlfriends was in 2006 before they all completed our graduate program and left St. Louis. After that, Dan and I were sort of in friend limbo while waiting to make our next move across the country. For our first couple of years here, we've spent a lot of time with couples, but I've been pining for some real girl time, especially since Dan's two best friends are here and they have regular guy outings. Much to my delight, a group of girls from my church gets together regularly for craft nights and I've been invited to join them. I had my first craft night a couple of weeks ago, and I could hardly have been more excited if it were a first date. In fact, I've been so excited about making new friends that I've been worried about coming across as being in a state of friend desperation, so hopefully I've managed to convince them that I'm (relatively) normal. I'm so happy to have girl time, especially time that inspires me to be creative--a perfect combo! I'm really looking forward to more of that and really excited to be surrounded by inspiring and amazing women!

Business stuff is humming along, though I've been too exhausted with my day job lately to put much effort into it. I feel like, at this point, I have really crystallized my concept, and I've finally settled on a name, almost finished my logo, and even purchased a domain for my website! The actual website is still a hot mess, but I'll be sure to share the link with anyone who's interested as soon as I have a chance to get it into a state that doesn't cause me extreme embarrassment. Once the site is up, the logo is finished, and the business cards are ordered, it will be time to actually start getting my services out there! As a bit of an impromptu trial in being a professional organizer, this weekend a friend e-mailed me with some pictures and a request for suggestions to help her friend get organized. I realized as I was responding to her just how excited I am about this work, and how much I've really absorbed in researching it over the last several months. I feel that I was able to really answer her questions with confidence, which for me is about 90% of the battle in my efforts to get this going. Very exciting.

New Things: Week 11

The first new thing this week was the purchase of soap nuts. I've been meaning to try these as an alternative to regular laundry detergent, and these get extra points for being fair trade! I'm hoping they might also save us a bit of money.
New thing #2 was finally getting around to switching out almost all of my plastic storage containers and replacing them with glass ones. I've long avoided putting plastic in the microwave or exposing it to heat, and I've had some glass containers that I've used for a while, but I hadn't really gotten around to switching everything over to ensure that all of my food storage is BPA-free (some of my plastic storage was years old, cheap, and probably not of the BPA-free variety). Of course, reducing BPA exposure is a good thing for anyone to consider, but what finally got me into gear was an article I read recently about the connections between Polycystic Ovary Syndrome and BPA. . . apparently women with PCOS (like me) have over 1.5 times more BPA in their systems than women without it! The last thing my systems needs is any PCOS encouragement, so that definitely pushed buying glass higher up on my priority list. I'm also going to stop buying canned beans and make the switch to 100% dried ones (or, if I'm in a pitch, stick only with Eden canned beans, which are BPA free). It felt really good to say goodbye to all of that plastic (which I'm hoping to either recycle or repurpose as containers for organizing)!

The last new (old) thing for the week was that Dan and I resumed one of our favorite dates. . . an evening at home with a puzzle, a hot beverage, and a treat for dessert. I realize this makes us among the dorkiest people we know, but for us it turns into a quiet, inexpensive night at home and something fun to work on together. We haven't worked on a puzzle since we relocated to PA, so it was fun to reinstate an old tradition! We sipped coffee, ate cannolis, listed to some Jose Gonzales and Emiliana Torrini, and put together this puzzle Dan got me for Christmas in 2009. It was lovely.