Intentions

For those of you who may not know, I recently started my MBA. I am thoroughly enjoying my first class "Executive Skills", which is all about public speaking, email etiquette, writing proposals...all of the important daily stuff that we sometimes neglect. My professor is wildly entertaining...not to mention I instantly liked her when she wore too-cute Coach shoes to our first class (is that shallow? I appreciate someone with sassy style!)

Last night during one of her informative rants she was discussing intentions and boundaries. Why is it that a close friend or spouse can confide in you anything- or provide candid advice or opinions to you without fear? It isn't what they say that navigates any boundaries, it is the intention behind it. I never really thought of it that way. Essentially you can share whatever you feel with those close girlfriends, and hopefully your significant other, because they know it's coming from your heart and you don't mean harm (at least, that's how it should be). On the flip side, if someone you barely knew or trusted said something similar you might be grossly offended. Ex: The IT guy at work comments on how bold your new hairstyle is...BOLD?! What does that mean. Who is he to comment!! Am I right?

I am fortunate to have several close friends in my life that I have this relationship with...they understand that at the heart I care about them, and would never say anything with the intent to hurt. However I am not always the smoothest operator and sometimes excitement or passion overshadows my tiny ration of tact that I possess (thanks, Dad). Or my loving husband who I've said a few things to and really meant out of love, although a few haven't sat as well as I intended...there was a "pear shaped" comment I made when he complained about his jeans not fitting right. I meant it as a consolation but you may imagine how that really went down. NOTE: Do not ever tell a MAN he is pear-shaped. There is no shovel that will dig you out of that.

The class provided a good lesson...build relationships with those around you on the foundation of good intentions. But my biggest takeaway was thankfulness, for all those in my life (you know who you are) that I can truly be myself with and honesty always comes from the heart. <3

The Onesie & Tiny Shoes

First off, disclaimer: I am not pregnant. Phew!

I am convinced there exists a sick marketing plot- with the culprit being soft colors, tiny versions of leggings, fashionable shoes and of course the onsie- that tried to trick me into this major life decision. First of all, how freaking cute are those tiny shoes! Sometimes I feel like Liz Lemon and just want to start a stash in my purse for those rough days. Second of all, it's every marketers dream. BABIES = MONEY. A whole other person on this planet to consume products, wear tiny fashions that are outgrown a week later, and go through many many packages of $100 diapers (they must be that expensive, right?!) AND Don't even get me started on the onesie. With their cute sayings ("Party in my crib, 2am") and their fun patterns, it is hard not to want to find a tiny little person to put in them and parade around. We will revisit the onesie a bit later.

But seriously, the hubby and I have only been married not even six months and this question must come up every time we see our family. At first we were bummed our honeymoon didn't create a bright, bouncing combination of our stellar DNA (but you can bet we certainly tried! repeatedly! ha) Then, we realized, we had so much time ahead of us. It was the pressure of "what's next"? that created this internal complex as each month seems to tick by without that nine month countdown.

It was only until I took a big step back that I realized, I just wanted a tiny version of "us" to dress, parade around and look cute. I don't know that I want or am ready to take care of a baby outside of the happy fun moments (2 am feedings? Constant laundry? Crying? Looking like a sleep-deprived zombie?) Sure, every parent says the negative things are completely worth it, and I'm sure there right. But damn it'd be incredibly selfish to procreate on the sole purpose of finding an outlet for my stash of onesies (although I bet my husband will create some darn cute kiddies!)

PS if you think about it, the onesie is only cute on tiny ones...let's remember the onesie for adults, aka the Bodysuit, circa 1992. Yikes! let's NEVER bring that one back, k?

Exposed!

As a follow up to my previous post, I thought I'd share a funny story from yesterday.

The hubby & were walking through Whole Foods last night, waiting for our yummy pizza to be created (highly recommend btw!), when he looked down at my new, fabulous boots that I may have managed to smuggle past him from the UPS guy. His eyes traveled from my boots up to my eyes, which deftly avoided contact with his. And the smirk started to spread across his face. I of course adeptly denied that these were not in fact, delivered in the rather large box I received from Martin & Osa last week.

Why must he be so perceptive?! I mean, I totally appreciate that he still pays attention to the detail, but man I cannot sneak anything past him.

And p.s. this is the second time I was found out. The other time was with my new cable-sweater Uggs...we were at Home Depot riding the escalator and I managed to take a broad stance, putting my cutely adorned foot in front of us. Exposed again!!

p.p.s. If one attempts to smuggle said boots by husband, be prepared to spend extra $$ at GameStop to appease him...

Made for walkin

Well, I think we've established by now that I have a bit of an obsession with anything clothing/fashion/shopping related...I've been able to restrain myself to a certain extent given impending large financial purchases (ahem, house). However there is one weakness I cannot seem to fight: BOOTS. It sounds silly, right? But you live in Chicago for a winter and you will understand this obsession. (Although I must confess only a few of my pairs actually protect against the weather.)

What started out as an innocent dabbling a few years ago has turned into a full blown need for boots of every occasion, weather, outfit, day...and the list goes on. I recently counted and I have grown my collection from the basic brown & black heeled boots plus a pair of warm winter Merrell boots to TWELVE pairs. Yikes! Not to mention I've had to stash said pairs of boots in all nooks & crannies within our tiny condo to avoid the discovery of said obsession by my husband (who may be reading this- honey I swear, they were all on sale!)

While the number seems absurd, I can't seem to part with any of the pairs and my quest still continues. I have boot envy; like the cute powder blue Hunter wellies I spotted on the bus last week, or the ugly but so warm & yummy tall Uggs everyone has been sporting...sigh. Sometimes I think my only self-restraint against seeking out more pairs is the knowledge that 1) I have no more room 2) complete and utter guilt and 3) husband will eventually have to move out to accommodate boot obsession (for both space & frustration reasons).

It all boils down to this: there is something comforting about wearing the perfect pair. Warm, comfortable, sassy, the perfect complement to any outfit, and ultimately protection for that gross winter slush/snow/ice. For now, I shall just have to "make due" with my limited collection.

Where the Heart Is

Over the holidays I was able to spend time with family, friends, loved ones...it was my first venture back to Michigan since wedding season and it's amazing how much has happened in just a few short months. Whenever I travel back "home", it seems that I get my bearings back. I know what I want, who I am, where I want to be...and then I travel back to Chicago and it seems my compass just spins round & round and never can find North.

There's something inexplicable about the love, joy and peace that I feel when we're home visiting, and it's not just during the holidays when those feelings are a'plenty. I was young and impatient when I fled that state seeking independence, only to find it was within me, and I ran away from those I loved. The cost of finding my independence was a price I still am paying for...sure I have cherished all of the people I've met, experiences I've had, and growth I've experienced in love and life. Maybe I wouldn't have grown had I stayed. However I can't help but wonder why my path just won't cross again with the place I love so much.

Regardless of where we are planting down roots, I still feel as though my spirit only truly returns when I venture back to my true home. Will that ever change?? I don't know...but the pangs of missing, all of it, still ache after a few weeks. For now, I will focus on building our home here and hope I find that feeling, even if it's only a small shadow of the Michigan love I have deep within...

Winter Haze

Perhaps it's all the baked goods, pumpkin gingerbread mega lattes, or the change of the seasons, but lately I just feel like I'm walking around in a fog! With the job switch, the busy holiday season and the mental overload of changes ahead (see previous blog posts for deets) I haven't had much time to step back and think clearly. Every morning it's like WAKE UP! And a few cups of coffee later I'm back to functioning. My beach vaca to Florida cannot come soon enough (although, perhaps I should've said no to those muffins & lattes given the impending bikini fiasco!)

Aside from the fog, I do love this time of year for the sense of family, togetherness, celebration and general "warmth" not from the outside but from loved ones. I wish all of you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and wonderful New Year!

Party Virgin

So, I wanted to post a follow-up on my previous post http://tinyurl.com/yj5uuzl and let you all know how the party truly went down…

In planning my big party full of yummy apps, I failed to realize that in fact my family may actually help rather than make it a more stressful event. I've thrown a few parties, but never for family, and never with this much food (except for one disastrous Thanksgiving with 8 girlfriends which involved an uncooked turkey & 8 bottles of wine). So needless to say I was a bit nervous of my talents pulling through.

The party was set to start at 6:30, but somehow my eager parents ended up at the door by 4pm. Makeup-free and in the middle of a mess, I wasn't sure how I would pull it off...until something magic happened- they both just started helping. I resisted at first, but the result was unexpected: not enough time to make the twice-baked potatoes? Problem solved, (thanks Papa Bear)- we'll make a quick dish of candied sweet potatoes instead! No matter what issue came up- and there were quite a few in those final hours- we tackled it, TOGETHER. I've never felt such warmth in my heart as when we were all in the kitchen together. Mom chopping veggies (which she NEVER does, I might add), PB monitoring the sophisticated oven schedule (cannot WAIT for my dual oven in the new house!), lil sis arranging platters & the hubby preparing the bar.

Most everyone arrived early, and all came bearing gifts...in the end everyone had a blast, were well fed, and most important I skipped my final appetizer in lieu of spending time with my family out of the kitchen. To make that call proved to me, I AM grown up...and who cares what they really think! They all put on a happy face & dug into the food.

Happy Thanksgiving. Today I am thankful I get to EAT & not cook :)