Sankalpas for 2018

At lunch last week, my co-worker was telling me about her yoga retreat in Costa Rica. It sounded like an amazing experience, albeit one I have no desire to partake in; but what really interested me was the idea of a sankalpa. During the retreat, they had everyone tell their life story and then with the lessons learned from their stories they were to create a sankalpa, or resolve, for the rest of the retreat. 

A sankalpa is an intention from the heart and mind that you vow to yourself and repeat three times at the beginning of any yoga practice or meditation - ideally it should be done each day. By making and repeating the vow you are bringing a positive change to your life and making your sankalpa a truth in your world. It should be a short phrase or sentence and begin with "I am." Unlike a New Year resolution, this does not come from the idea that you aren't good enough and need to make a change to be better; instead the sankalpa is a declaration of your core beliefs and what you will use to guide your choices. 
After hearing all of this, and doing a fair amount of reading on the internet - I was sold. In lieu of a resolution, I was going to be making a sankalpa. Well two actually, as there are two kinds. The first is a statement you make about something which is already in place, and the second is the to set a specific intention or goal, which you have to aim for.

All my reading advised to meditate and spend a few days thinking about my life and where I want to go. I still struggle with meditating, but I have spent a lot of time this past year thinking about both of these things, so the first sankalpa came pretty easy to me: "I am at peace with myself." I almost went with "I am me," but the first seemed to be a bit more along the lines with the philosophy behind the practice. After everything I have been through the past few years and all the work I have put in to my life this past year, this statement is the most pure and true reflection of where I am in my life. I know who I am - strengths, weaknesses - I accept and respect the whole package. It wasn't easy to get there, but I have gotten there and truly am at peace with who I am. I also accept and respect that this may change, as I continue to grow and change as a person, but at this moment - "I am at peace with myself."

For number two, I struggled a bit not to turn this into a resolution or a focus on something that I saw as a lacking. I wanted it to be something that was right form me and that I could benefit from holistically, and not some specific goal that would restrict me in what I am hoping to achieve this. So after some reflection, and some googling on creating your sankalpa, I settled on "I am happy and open to whatever life may offer me." For me this is a great intention to challenge myself this year and open myself up to new possibilities. I am a planner, down to my very toes; and the idea behind this intention is to be open to not having control or a plan. Leaving behind 2017 and walking into 2018, I don't think anything else could benefit me quite as much as saying "I am happy and open to whatever life may offer me."

With that, my sanklapas are made for 2018, "I am at peace with myself" and "I am happy and open to whatever life may offer me," and have been repeated three times to set the intentions. And now I wish you all a safe and peaceful 2018 and if you are up for it - go ahead and make your own sankalpas in lieu of the traditional resolution. Let's start 2018 focusing on our strengths instead of our weaknesses. 

This is Christmas

For me, Christmas is seeing the palm trees wrapped up like candy canes in Christmas lights. I may be from Wisconsin, but growing up in Florida gave me a whole different view of what Christmas feels like and until I see those trees, it isn't really the season. As it is 73 degrees outside right now, you can safely assume that I am in Florida and fully in the Christmas spirit, and as such I wanted to do a self-indulgent post about what else Christmas is to me...

Christmas is spending two days with K. before I head down to my parents' house. Two days filled with Chick-fil-a, margaritas, walks, shopping, lounging on the world's most comfortable couch (Sorry G., the replacement will never be the same), watching 90's movies, and gossiping.

Christmas is dinner with my parents and K. and G., where we eat too much and everyone fights over the check. It is my dad pretending to be shocked that I have already bought a pair of shoes and listening to me and mom wine-drunk chatter the entire 2-hour ride to Venice. 

Christmas is getting to my childhood home and being greeted by two big, happy dogs who attack me with kisses and toys. It is watching Opie destroy the Big Lots toy I bought with K. and watching Porter walk around with his new prize. It is giving scratches to Boscoe and more big sloppy kisses from Opie. It is Porter jumping up and grabbing his bone as soon as I say I am going to bed and then walking me to the bedroom where he promptly settles in for the night at the foot of the bed in case I wake up and decide I need a dog to protect me. (Yes, he does this every night.) 

Christmas is spending a week with my parents where we play tourist in the town I grew up in - trying new restaurants, driving around looking at Christmas lights, and taking walks on the beach, on main street, and through the neighborhood. It is lying on the couch watching Lethal Weapon (all of them), Die Hard, Uncle Buck, Christmas Vacation, and however many cheesy Hallmark movies dad will put up with. It is making eggnog, cookies and pies, and all the food dad and I can think of. It is mom making all my favorite meals that I won't dare keep in my apartment - ribs, meatloaf, pot roast, meat balls, and biscuits and gravy. It is dad and I doing our annual treks to hit up all the ice cream parlors in town and at least one breakfast joint - just the two of us. It is mom and I wondering through as many malls as we can and then making a round through TJ Maxx, Bealles, Stein Mart, Target, and the Wally-World. Christmas is the three of us drinking wine and eating so many apps that we can't even touch our dinner. It is mom making me clean out old boxes filled with the treasurers of my youth and me finding all the notes and letters from friends over the years (all the way back to middle school...I may be a hoarder) and laughing and texting my friends as I read through them. It is my parents making me drive the car and dad trying to give me directions to the mall -thanks, I think I know that one. It is sitting on the porch listening to Down Home Cooking and reading a book while they do the last of their work. It is waking up on Christmas Eve and drinking nog-spiked coffee with our breakfast before taking a walk on the beach and coming home to a huge breakfast before delivering nog to the neighbors. It is opening one present before going to midnight mass at 7:30 pm, because it is Florida and 7:30 pm is just like midnight. It is waking up on Christmas morning and having more nog-spiked coffee while opening presents and then eating all day and embarking on another movie marathon.   

So for me, this is Christmas. It is low key and relaxing, it is a total indulgence of gluttony and slothness, it is full of dog fur and sloppy kisses and mostly warm and fuzzy family time; and I look forward to it all year long. As I settle into my last days of vacation and before I start downing that nog - let me take this moment to wish you and yours a joyous holiday season. And no matter what the season means to you, I hope you find peace in your holiday traditions (or in the copious amounts of booze you partake in)!

Dating Should Be Fun

Friday was date night. Which in my world either means Frasier and Dominos or some activity that is better suited to teenagers. As such, we went to the trampoline park. After an hour and a half of playing dodge ball, diving onto an airbag, pretending to be gladiators on a balance beam, and racing around - we called it a success and did one more lap across the park, before limping off the trampolines. While changing for dinner, I started chatting with a teenager in the bathroom and we got on the subject of dating. Naturally, I felt honored bound to impart some dating advice to her and shockingly enough she thought it was brilliant....she may have been pandering to me because she couldn't clean the bathroom until I left, but I am going with rapt attention...

So here was my advice: Dating should be fun and should afford you opportunities to actually get to know someone. Dating isn't hard, it is just answering the question, "Do I want to be with you?" If no, then move on. But if yes, then date some more, learn some more and add a "still" to the sentence and keep repeating the process. The problem is that we over complicate and add pressure to something that should be simple and in doing so, we take the fun out of it. Dating has become an over scheduled cycle of drinks and dinners with everyone telling their same story over and over again until it is robotic sales pitch. Which is where my advice comes in, bring the fun back. 

After that first yes, get out of the cycle and go do something together. For clarification: I am not advocating that you go hike in the woods on a second date - because no one needs to get murdered; but go bowling or mini-golfing. Do an activity together and if it is slightly ridiculous, that is even better because it makes for a better story and puts you both on even footing. When you do an activity like this you end up learning a lot about the person, but what you are learning is the stuff that that isn't on their standard script. You see how they act when put in a situation that may be a bit uncomfortable (hello, having to hit the golf ball 8 times on the first hole that has a par 3); you see how they handle competition (sore loser, or laugh it off); you see if they can embrace the silly (do they start counting strokes in a different language at each hole); and you get to see how the conversation can flow when not practiced. In other words you get to know the real person, and hopefully you get to have a ton of fun - because trust me, these are fun activities and dating.should.be.fun! Plus, if you kick your partner's butt you get to do a completely undignified victory dance ...or if you are like me and lose, you will get to blackmail them forever with video footage of that undignified victory dance. Either way, a good time.

I know it is simple advice, and for those of you not in the trenches it may seem silly, but for those of us out there dating - this is a game changer. You will learn so much more about a person over an activity than you will over 4 of those yawn filled dinners. And if you find a keeper, you may score a nice dinner with a whole new level of conversation as a consolation prize for getting you butt kicked.

My Dating Life is a Meme

Yes, I am starting this post out with a meme. But for any of you who have dated in your 30s, never has a truer statement been written and here is why...

This past year of dating has been a weird experience for me, and I say this as someone who has been dating for 18 years. After the big break-up two years ago I waited 6-months and then tried Match, a few of you enjoyed some solid screenshots of the terrible people I was matched with and their terrible and often lewd opening messages. I then gave a couple of the free sites a shot - Bumble, Hinge, OkCupid, and even Tinder got almost two full days. As you may recall from 4 Dudes & a Funeral - I went on some first dates, a handful of second dates, and had some solid prospects that were weeded out. After that I did the IRL dating thing for a year, hard to believe that it still happens but it does, and was a perfect way to date while trying to navigate the new role at work. And finally this January, I decide it is time to get back on the eHarmony, only to discover that they changed their platform. Instead of having to move through stages of communication that would allow me to delay and stagger the dates for a week or two at a time, they have set everyone up with direct messaging.

And so it began. I signed on and received an onslaught of matches and messages - everyone wanted to set-up a date right away. As I waded through the first 32 matches, I set-up a couple dates and realized that I was already starting to get overwhelmed and having flashbacks to my first time on the eHarm when I went on 26 first dates in 3-months. My first date was with Mr. Snazzy Socks, which you know how that ends - but at the time it was a near-perfect first date. And this is when I decide, screw the online dating rules, I am going to date one dude at a time. This bucks everything they say about online dating: it is a numbers game so you are supposed to bet on as many matches at once in order to increase your chances that one hits. 

In my new method however, I was hitting pause on all the new matches while I talked to just one - and in the online dating world, by not responding in a timely manner to their onslaught, I was losing my bet with them. Suddenly I didn't have a bunch of horses in the race, I was betting on just one. In a way it was great, I was not juggling multiple dates or trying to remember who went to what university. It was allowing me to focus on each new match that I went out with and gave me a chance to get to know them and ride out the dating time to see if we would or wouldn't take the next step. But it also put me in this new world of the meme. I was now going out with just one person multiple times and that led to questions from people like "So, are you guys getting serious? You've gone out 3 times in the last two weeks..." Which then led to me wondering "Wait, are we dating or are we Dating?" And then there I was, in this new weird limbo where I was forced to figure out exactly how many times do we go out before we add that capital "D" to dating, and from there when do we decide if we are actually "exclusive," and from "exclusive" when do we add "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" to the equation. Who knew that there were so many layers between first date and Commitment with a capital "C" and why didn't they ever tell me?! 

And so, I stumbled my way into meme dating. After 11-months of being a single-target operator - I have to say it isn't the worst. I appreciate the idea of casting a wide net and do think that online dating is designed as a numbers game. But I have spent a long time trying to find a good balance in my life and I fear that going back to the wide net philosophy will disrupt the perfect ratio of friend dates, homebody time, and date-dates that I have finally achieved. Plus, there is something kind of old-fashioned about getting to know one person at a time instead of channel-surfing through a couple people in a week. I get to start a series and if I like it, I can delve in and really enjoy it instead of wondering what else there is to watch. And for better or worse it has led me to discover that dating isn't as black and white as I always thought. There are a lot steps between the first date and commitment, and while being in those in-between stages can be confusing and exhausting, it can also be fun to really delve in and find out why this person is worth all that effort - or more often than not, why they aren't....

Fall-ing Into the End of 2017

How do we have less than two months left in 2017? As I pick out my holiday greeting cards and start my countdown to Christmas vacation, I can't help but take stock of my year so far and what I hope to accomplish yet this year. I looked back at the various posts I have written about my auspicious goals for the year and realize that I have succeeded in many ways, but I can't help but realize that one of my biggest misses has been here. I have promised to be consistent and prolific, yet this fall I have failed. 

As some of you know, August to mid-October were a shaky time for me. At the end of July, I lost Byron two days before my birthday. I have started a post on the ensuing grief more times than I can count. In August, I began what will go down as the shittiest relationship I have ever been in - one that was blessedly brief but involved someone laying their hands on me. I have started a post on the feelings of shame and the fact that it can happen to anyone more times than I care to count. In September, I discovered that there would be an entire overhaul of my department at work - my job should be safe, but what it will look like is unknown. I have started a post on workplace turmoil and the job market dozens of times. In October, Troy got out of prison and entered my parent's life again. I have started a post on what this means to me and defining family more times than you can count. 

Now we are in November. Most of these things are steadier now. I have survived the loss of Byron. I survived being in an abusive situation - something that I never thought I'd have to deal with. I am surviving the shifting at work and the idea that Troy will be at the Christmas table. As I look towards these last weeks of 2017 I realize that I may not be ready to delve into these full stories, but I can still start the tale. I will write the full posts and take you on these journeys, but for now I can tell you that they happened and I am still here and still committed to you and this blog. 

I feel stronger now than I did when I jubilantly started July and was looking down the second half of the year. I made it through the other shoe dropping and am now looking forward to wringing the last bit of everything out of 2017 - I can't wait to do a fabulously fancy Friendsgiving next week, to do some damage at Black Friday shopping, to hit up the holiday parties the week after that, and then to head down to Florida to spend some quality time with K. & G. and then lounge with the dogs and my parents. Kind of like those resolutions I made for the year, 2017 wasn't all successes; but neither was it all failures and I intend to have it end on a high note and to try and wring out a few more wins in those last few weeks. And so my dear readers, I am back and you better be ready for some more stories to take you into 2018, because I have been saving them up! 

Mr. Handlebar & the Groupon

When I first moved to DC, D. was great about finding things for us to do so that we were out socializing and meeting new people. This was particularly helpful for her, as she was single; and less helpful to me as I was still dating someone in NYC. On one such evening, about 7 months after our move, we were at a concert in the District and ran into a friend from college. Afterward the show he invited us out with his friends for drinks,one of whom we shall call Mr. Handlebar. Mr. Handlebar was a true hipster asshole, he had a handlebar mustache (hence the name), was into pac-man, woodworking, and rock climbing, and had aspirations to change the world. We clicked. We spent all night talking about anything and everything - it was one of those manic nights that fell like they are straight out of a movie: the background blurs out and it is just the two of you having a beer, playing video games, walking down the street, and finally everything snaps back into place and you are at a IHOP at 2am and realize there are other people there. As the night closed our college friend mentioned something about my boyfriend and Mr. Handlebar grabs my hand and with disbelief says "You don't really have a boyfriend do you? You can't..." And in that moment I wanted to say "No," I knew exactly what he meant, how could this feel so right and we feel so connected and I be with someone else?

I broke up with the boyfriend the next day, it wasn't fair to either of us for me to have that moment, and if ever there was a blinking red sign for things not working out - it is the overwhelming desire to tell a guy with a handlebar mustache that you are single. D. and I had an epic break-up trip to Ocean City that weekend, where we discovered that Long Island Iced Teas followed by a shot of tequila can give you the perfect buzz to last the evening. When I returned I couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Handlebar, and so D. texted our college friend to get his number and within a week I had a date. I should note here that I had been with my ex for two years, so while my brain screamed that this was going to be a disaster my heart was throwing itself all-in to the magical connection I had felt that night. 

Mr. Handlebar picked me up for our first date in his grandpa's car and took me to a restaurant called the Cowboy Cafe. We got burgers and beer and talked about everything that we covered in that first night until I worked up the nerve to address the elephant in the room and explained that I was newly single. This was not met with the enthusiasm I expected from someone who was so genuinely dumbstruck that I wasn't available just a few weeks ago. He stuttered through some congratulations/this is great lines and promptly let me know that he was totally into dating, but wasn't looking for anything serious at the moment. Having been single for all of a week now, I assured him that we were on the same page. And while I wasn't ready to jump into another relationship, the screams of 'disaster!' from earlier were starting to make their way to my heart. (It would take me a full year of dating in DC before I was able to realize that these were the classic signs of the DC Man-Child.) And then the check came. He looked at me expectantly and so I offered to split it, which he quickly accepted but then followed with, "Don't worry, I have a Groupon!" Now, I am Midwestern. I LOVE saving money, and I'm a strong, independent woman and don't mind paying my own way. But seriously?! This was my re-introduction to dating: a coupon and going dutch - together?! At this point my brain and heart came together and yelled "What did YOU do?" And obviously, not willing to admit to either that I had possibly acted rashly, I continued to go out with Mr. Handlebar for another month. He used Groupons on all of our dates....

Mr. Had Many Women

In the movies blind dates end up being a misadventure between a mismatched duo - usually in a mistaken setup by friends, a computer, or a random twist of fate - that ends with them falling madly in love. In my life, the story goes a little more like this. 

After our weekly managers meeting, my Ukrainian co-worker tells me that she needs to speak to me. We get to my office, she closes the door, and with no preamble says, "So are you single?" After the affirmative, she tells me that she wants to set me up with a friend of her husband and begins to describe him: "He works at the EPA - he is quite successful, he is well-traveled, he is athletic, he is funny, he is close with his family, he is very handsome." Sounds like a catch right?! I'm totally in. 

And then she continues...."I don't know how old you are, but he is 45. Don't worry though, he doesn't look it. For years my girlfriends meet him and want me to set them up, but I say no. He was too much the player. Over the last year though, many things have happened - his brother dies - and so he is now much more mature. When I saw him last, I ask him - 'So you ready to settle down?' and he says yes. So now, now I set him up. He may be 45, but I promise you, he is very good looking. And when I say good looking, I mean he has had many women. But no more. So you are interested, yes?" After a statement like that, how could I not be? "Set it up!" 

I think she worried that I was going to back out, and so she sent me his LinkedIn profile that afternoon. Turns out she was not lying - he did not look 45, and he was quite handsome. I obviously shared this story with all my nearest and dearest, who quickly dug up his Facebook profile, which confirmed that the tiny picture on LinkedIn was not an aberration, he was indeed handsome. Facebook also confirmed that he was well-traveled and also featured a bevy of beautiful women. He HAD had many women. This was turning out to be a great start to my first blind date.

I must have passed his LinkedIn test as well, because within a week he had my email address and we were setting up our first date. Because we are both annoying DC-ites we ended up having to plan two weeks out, which I made even more interesting by chopping my hair back to a pixie. To be fair, I did mention to my co-worker that I was thinking of doing this, to which she responded by once again closing my door and having a long talk with me. This time she explained to me that it may have been awhile since she dated, but some men prefer long hair and maybe I should consider holding off until after the date. She also told me that I should always be the one to end a phone call with a man - apparently she read it in a book somewhere - and she is now married and I am not, so I should really take her advice to heart. I am still unclear of the correlation here, but either way I didn't listen to her advice. Upon seeing me the next day - post haircut, I got another lecture about how I had now shattered Mr. Had Many Women's expectations. I nodded solemnly and assured her that I would let him know in advance about my new appearance so that he wouldn't be shocked. I don't think she appreciated my levity. 

The big date happened to be the first night of the firm's Partners' Retreat, so I had a full plate all day and barely had time to worry if my new shorn locks were going to be a turnoff to my would-be suitor. I did remember to shoot him a message in the morning letting him know about my change in appearance and advising him that should he have any concerns about recognizing me, I would be the one in a blue dress. (Fingers crossed no other redheads with short hair showed up in a blue dress, what would he do?) And suddenly it was zero hour and I was headed from the Retreat to the big date, the restaurant was around the corner from the office and I was walking back with a couple of other co-workers, which is when I discovered that they all KNEW. I got some winks and nudges and suddenly, what had been a lark in my mind and a hope for a fun blog post, became a story that I was going to have to report on the next morning. Oh god, what had I done?! No turning back now, I had to slip on my heels and walk into that restaurant.

Turns out, I was the only redhead in a blue dress and he immediately spotted me and waved me over, and it also turns out that my co-worker was not kidding. This man was a unicorn. He was honest to God, one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. I have some healthy self-esteem, I am a solid 8; but this man, this man was an 11. He did not look 45, he could easily pass for 35. He was smart, he was funny, he was well-traveled, and spoke multiple languages. He was heavenly. And there was zero spark. Zip, zero, nada. But putting that aside, I was on a date with a dreamy 11, so there was no way I was going to let that stop me. I pulled out all the charm and our drinks turned into dinner down the street, which was where I went wrong. I should have stopped while I was ahead, because my exhaustion from the retreat started to settle in and the lack of chemistry gradually become apparent - the conversation lost what little sizzle it had and by the time we split a burger it was clear that there would be no second date. We settled the bill and by this time it had started to rain, so we decide to grab ubers home. As we stood under the awning of the restaurant waiting for our respective cars, it occurred to me that if a woman is lucky she will get a chance to go out with a unicorn once, maybe twice in her lifetime, so who knew when, or if, this would happen to me again. As my car pulls up, he goes in for the hug goodnight and instead I go for it and plant one on him - I mean I am never going to see him again, and....UNICORN. He, being a gentleman, went with it and then I jog out to my uber satisfied with my evening and smug that I have truly succeeded in my first blind date experience.

Snazzy Socks (or Part II of Sweaty Palms)

Dear Readers - It has been awhile and I apologize for that, but life has a way of throwing the unexpected at us and knocking us off balance. I'm not ready to tell that story yet, so for now you will have to settle for the long overdue conclusion to Sweaty Palms & Weak Knees from April.

We left off with me meeting Lawyer P. for our first date, and what a first date it was. This was the kind of first date that you see in the movies, where two strangers sit down and the next thing you know 5 hours have passed and the bar is shutting down. We talked about everything - embarrassing stories from our youth, dreams, passions, family - everything except the usual DC dating fodder: jobs and politics. It was lovely and refreshing. He asked me out as we said goodbye and we had our second date at a trampoline park the following Monday. Once again, the date was one for the books. Nothing like playing tag on trampolines and jumping into a foam pit to give you a sense of fun that is so often lacking in the standard DC dinner and cocktails. We were getting a blizzard that night - so the place was deserted and our cab ride back to DC was like driving through a snowy dreamscape. We got a late dinner in one of the few restaurants that was open and talked for hours. Our next date was naturally game night where we played Cards Against Humanity, Battleship, Checkers, and Connect 4. I was headed to Vegas the next morning for a conference and we ended up talking into the wee hours of the morning delving deeper into our families and what we wanted out of the world. 

I came back from Vegas sick as a dog and we postponed our fourth date to Sunday. He sent me 6 quarts of chicken noodle soup on Friday night. By Sunday, I was still not 100% but I headed in to meet him for bowling at 8pm - he was fond of the late night dates and since he was coming in from Baltimore I was willing to accommodate. Our conversation was a bit stilted but I wrote it off to me still being sick. After a couple of frames we decided to call it a night and as we put on our shoes I glanced over and said "Snazzy socks you've got on there." He responded with "What do you mean?" I laughed and modeled my own polka dot socks, picked out specifically for bowling alley black lights and said "You picked out snazzy socks to go bowling, like these bad boys!" He paused, looked at me, sighed, and then he told me that he "Just didn't think that this was going to work because it seemed like I was making fun of him." I was a little slow on the uptick, still being sick, and responded eloquently with "Huh?" So he elaborates with "It just felt like you were making fun of me with the snazzy sock comment, and I need someone who is more tender as a life partner." He continued with this diatribe, used the word tender about 10 more times, let me know that he didn't think I cheered enough that night when he got his strikes, and as we said goodbye he cried and hugged me. 

What had been the most intense first three dates I have ever had, ended with the most baffling abruptness I'd ever experienced. After a teary ride home and a couple hours of sleep I woke up to the realization that he was absolutely ridiculous. Lawyer P. was one of those guys you come across dating, who is focused on finding the unicorn of women and expects to know it immediately. But what he is forgetting is that finding your partner in life isn't a race, and the expectation to trust someone enough to spill your deepest darkest secrets in four dates is a bit unrealistic - no matter how much of those four dates was spent talking. Plus, why the rush? If you are the 'one,' then we have a lifetime to spend getting to know each other; and if you aren't, then its best I don't share them with you. So Lawyer P., who is forever more known as Mr. Snazzy Socks, I wish you luck in your quest to find that unicorn, but maybe take a deep breath and give things a chance to grow organically rather than force that intimacy so quickly - it is a journey not a sprint!

A Very 2017 Love Story

A few weeks ago, I got an Uber pool home on a Friday night. It was 7pm and I had an amazing Uber deal with rides for $0.49 each so I was excited to take advantage of it and get home to enjoy a quiet weekend with nothing on my calendar. I got in the front seat, confirmed who I was and my address with the driver, and the other rider (Mr. Uber) leans around my seat and the following occurs:  

Mr. Uber: Why Hello!

K: Hi?

M.U.: Are you not allowed to talk to other riders in an Uber? This is my first ride.

K: Um, sure you can talk. First ride, really?! 

M.U.: Yeah, I take the metro - but this is turning out to be great! So, what do you do?

K: Business development at a law firm.

M.U.: That is amazing, I have an MBA and do project development. So, do you think I can get your number?

K: Why, do you need legal help?

M.U.: Hahaha, no, I think you are gorgeous!!
K: Well then....
M.U.: Too forward? You must get it all the time though, you are really beautiful!
K: Ha, okay you can have my card.
M.U.: What about your cell?
K: Eh, you can start with that.

This all took place in under 2 minutes. I won't take you through the rest of the ride, but it involved a very awkward conversation that our driver, Alla, was amazing enough to moderate. Once home I figured I'd get an email or call that night, so imagine my surprise when I didn't hear anything all weekend. I figured that this was the end of my tale of romance in the modern world - and if nothing else I'd get some happy hour traction out of the ride portion of the tale. However, Tuesday morning I came into a voicemail from Mr. Uber asking if we could continue our conversation on business development. A few back and forth calls later we set a date for the following Friday to check out a local brewery.

This past Friday, I put on my lipstick and headed out at a reasonable time for the big date. For once, I arrived early and was able to sweet talk a table out of the host. Mr. Uber was flustered - as he apparently couldn't get an Uber (ha!) - so he was a few minutes late and walked right by my table. By the time he sat down I knew that this was going to be one short lived romance, and 2 hours later as I texted my friends the following highlights from the evening - from the sanctuary of my apartment - I was proven right: He gave me the exact day he met his ex (June 26) and the date they broke up (February 9); He told me that the ex broke his heart and that he could "write a book" about the number she did on him; He has lived here for 2 years and has exactly 3 friends, one of whom is said ex - but "no need for me to worry because they are just friends;" and the kicker - He did not leave a tip. So yeah, my great modern love story ended up leaving much to be desired. But there were some silver linings: I found out that the local brewery makes a mean shepherd's pie and has a solid American Ale on tap, I have a fabulous new lipstick that holds up through a date, my dear readers get a fun story, and I was willing to step out of my comfort zone and go on a real blind date. So yeah, I'm still counting it as a win -in the month of Kara!

Let The Good Times Roll

In July I become the best (or worst) version of myself - it is my birthday month and as soon as July 1 hits, I snap into celebratory mode - freer, happier, and brimming with a self-centered confidence that only suits a teenager or a Leo. It has been this way for as long as I can remember, and was most definitely egged on by the multiple birthday celebrations my parents would give to me as a kid: we'd have one in Florida before we left on our annual trek to the homeland, one in Minnesota with the family there, and another at my grandparents' in Wisconsin. July became my month. As I've gotten older, I've manged to tamp down some of these expectations, but as July inches closer and closer I feel my excitement and self-centeredness rise. I start plotting and planning treats for myself and giving myself a break on my normal responsibilities. 

The difference this year is that I have so much more to celebrate than turning a year older. July 1 marks my one-year anniversary as manager. I made it - at times I really didn't think I would, the beginning was more downs than ups, but over the last 7 months it has been significantly more ups. I feel accomplished for not only sticking it out, but for excelling in the role. The last year has also brought me my own place - after years of plotting and planning; a dating life; finishing Toastmasters; and countless exciting moments for my stupid strong network of friends and family (weddings, babies, new jobs, new houses!). 

And then in the last week, the whipped cream and cherry were added to the ice cream sundae that has been this year. First, I graduated therapy (yes, you finish therapy). After almost 4 years, my amazing therapist informed me that all the hard work had paid off and we were done. For those of you who have been with me as I have climbed this proverbial mountain - you know how hard and complicated the journey has been and I thank you for all your support and patience as I got to a place place where I could mail a letter to T. and feel peace and closure and where feeling my feelings wasn't a chore but a fact of life. Therapy is hard work, and anyone who says differently is lying, but I am so happy I did and think everyone could benefit from an hour a week on that couch. As if that wasn't enough to start the July celebration early, I went and did something I didn't think I was ever going to be able to do - I paid off one of my student loans. I know I am still saddled with others, but to be able to hit the payoff button on my highest interest loan felt like the biggest victory in my adult life. Student loans are a ridiculously awful burden and to have one off my back and be able to look down the road and see a light at the end of the tunnel for the others is the best birthday gift I could have given myself. 

So yeah, July is my month of celebration, and this year I think I have earned an extra slice of cake, a little more fun, and a little less responsibility and I intend to partake! With that, I wish you all a Happy Kara's Birthday Month - hope it is as great for you as it is for me!! 

How Barry Made Me Friends

Making friends as an adult is HARD. Like for real. Unlike in school, you do not have an infinite pool to choose from or an unlimited amount of time to hang out and get to know them. By the time you are in your 30s you are choosing between people you meet at work or friends of your existing friends or SO. Both of these are viable options and can work out, but I have always been hesitant about mixing work people with my outside life. At work, I tend to be very focused and professional and don't want to cross that line into delving into my personal life. I'm pretty sure this stems from my first job in NYC. I was young and dumb, and hence I was super open and it got awkward....let's just say that I hugged my boss, more than once. It got to be a thing I did, until she strategically arranged a conversation with me in the room where she announced that she didn't like hugs. I was 22 and should have known better, but it happened and I still cringe when I think about it and am - right now - turning various shades of red just remembering.... 

After that, work life balance became not just about me having a life outside of work - it became having a separate life from work. I became a mystery to my co-workers, some of my former colleagues still have no idea if I even have parents. For the most part this has worked out successfully for me. However, every once in awhile my Midwestern friendliness breaks through and I find myself with a friend. That is how I ended up with L., who has the opposite view and is friends with all her co-workers. Less than a month on the job she asked me if I wanted to go run a 5k on a perfectly nice Saturday morning, I kept walking down the hall and called over my shoulder "The only way you will see me running is if there is something big and scary behind me." Nevertheless she persisted and within 6 months, I broke my rule and made one of my best friends. (A year later I ran that damn 5k with her. She is sneakier than she first appears.) 

Fast forward 4 years, which is how long I have been at my current job, and no work friends. I had some casual lunch buddies, a select few who I might go grab a drink with, I was doing good. And then it happened. This fall they hired two new managers. And dammit I liked them, as people. Not only were they funny, sarcastic, and smart - but they cut through the office politics and were willing to call people on their BS - I respected them. Next thing I knew we were texting and after 6 months, I sent the following:

K: I just met my new neighbor Barry - who broke up with his GF and got roomies to save money, but is now looking at 3 different single units in the building. He used to be in radio, but is now in sales, drives a yellow smart car, and was drinking coconut liquor coffee whiskey, and flax seed milk in a coffee mug while having a smoke. I'm exhausted just after listening to him. I don't think I told him more than - I moved here on April 15, and what I was drinking (coconut water and gin). I'm not sure he breathed while imparting all this knowledge to me. I think he thinks my name is Carol.
S: hahahahahahaha!!

  

K: If I marry him, please read this as a toast. Also if I ever try to date him - slap me.
S: I can do both. Promise.

And with this exchange I realized that it happened again, I made friends with my co-workers, and I was okay with it. Living in a transient city like DC means that people are always coming and going, and the last few years I have had a number of very dear friends make the decision to go. Having some new people, especially ones who can make a promise like S., around is pretty awesome. I know I will always struggle with breaking that boundary in the office, but so far it has served me pretty well. And now I enjoy having a couple people in the office who know that I DO have parents, if I had a date the night before, and when I drank a little too much on a Thursday night. So, while I haven't conquered the making friends in your 30s thing, I have definitely made some strides in the right direction. And who knows, maybe Barry will be next*!



*I have not seen Barry since that fateful night in May, so no updates on which unit he ended up in, and S. has not had to slap me yet. But it has only been a month and I signed a 2-year lease...

Most Likely to be Kidnapped

Although not an actual superlative in high school - I certainly would have been the winner of the category. Growing up I had little worry of being kidnapped, it wasn't that we lived in an overly safe area where things like that never happened (although now that I think about it I can't recall any kidnappings), it was more that I grew up hearing, "we don't have to worry about Kara getting kidnapped, they will return her in under an hour." Don't worry this came from my brother not my parents. I was a gregarious kid. My parents, bless their hearts, tried to create games to get me to be quiet, a favorite being "Who can be Quiet for the Longest" - spoiler alert - not me. So my brother, rightfully so, assumed that should I be kidnapped, I wouldn't shut up and eventually they'd be begging my family to take me back. He was kind of a jerk, but I digress.

I had a natural ability to talk about anything and everything and eventually I learned that it was quite an asset. Put me at a Girl Scout table in front of Publix and I could sellout a table of cookies in under 2 hours. The other girls would huddle behind the table weakly calling out "Cookies for sale...." Not me. I was like a character in Troop Beverly Hills, only without the costumes and dancing, as soon as my prey stepped onto the curb I was there with the "Excuse me sir, but wouldn't you like to support our troop? We just so badly want to go camping this year." I'd bat my big green eyes, flash those pearly whites, and work my freckled little face like the 8-year old con artist I was. It was then my parents learned that the used car salesman gene ran strong in this one. No one stood a chance. Before they knew it I was creating businesses in our front yard. Turns out a sucker IS born every minute and my neighborhood was full of them. Before long everyone in our neighbor owned their very own, original hand painted rock - naturally done in watercolors, as well as a jar of homemade cement (secret ingredient Elmer's glue), and boxes of used pens (where I got these boxes of pens is still a mystery to all involved). Once I started talking about opening my own dog grooming business (I was 10) my parents put the kibosh on my career in sales and stopped letting me go door to door selling my wears (get your minds out of the gutter- I was in grade school!).

As I got older, I realized that my snake oil charm wasn't just about my ability to talk to anyone, it was that I was approachable. Those wholesome Midwestern looks and Florida sunshine smile, made me seem trustworthy, friendly, and easy to talk to. When I moved to NYC, I started to notice that I was the first to be asked for direction in a crowd - little old ladies and tourists would hone in on me like a heat seeking missile and pull me aside to ask where the Olive Garden was located and which bus to take to get there. Pretty soon cabbies and bus drivers were sharing their life stories with me. My friends found this incredibly distressing and I would get lecture upon lecture, about "how you aren't supposed to talk to the bus drivers!" and "this is how people get kidnapped in cabs!" 

But the thing was, I wasn't talking to the strangers, the strangers were talking to me. It would start with an innocent smile and "How are you doing today? You stop at Delancey, right?" And then next thing I knew, they were insisting I sit up front and telling me about how Aunt Theresa was cheating on Uncle Derrick with his chemo doctor and the whole family didn't know what to do about it. Let me just tell you, Uncle Derrick deserved better than that hussy. See, not my fault. I was just being polite - I was raised in the South and have Midwestern roots - my people are not capable of not greeting someone warmly. (Unless it is Aunt Theresa, that woman only deserves a lukewarm "Hello.") 

I quickly learned that in NYC, it didn't take much to get people talking. These people would definitely lose at the "Who can be Quiet for the Longest" game. They wanted to be heard and I was just the person to hear them. My 4.5 years in NYC are full of the dramas and sagas of anyone I came in contact with, so full that this blog was originally going to be a collection of the stories that people told me. Now that I think about it, it is actually a bit surprising, with the number of people who approached and confided in me, that I never was approached to join a cult...or to start one... Either way, I had discovered that I even though I wasn't doing the talking I was still able to sell these people something - even if it was just a piece of mind that they were being heard.  

Which bring us to today. Since I have been in DC/VA, I have actually had a marked downturn in stranger stories. They still happen, but I can go for weeks without anyone responding with more than a "And a good afternoon to you. It sure is a hot one today." I think that being in the South means that everyone is surrounded by people who will listen and therefore they don't need to save up their stories for the nice girl on the bus, they can just chat with everyone as they go through their day. Checking out at the grocery store can take 45 minutes, because the checker and the bagger are ready with a full commentary on the high school football team's chances to make state this year (not good). Occasionally I miss the old days and wonder what happened to Aunt Theresa and Uncle Derrick, but mostly I love that I no longer get yelled at for talking to bus drivers - I am with my people now and we are all most likely to get kidnapped.

I'd be Great in a Cult

No seriously, I would. The thing is I love routine and I love rules - especially black and white ones. Put me into a cult - where everyday is mapped out, rules are clearly defined, and the steps to move up are mapped out - I would be in the core group of true believers within weeks and devotedly preaching the good word to indoctrinate new acolytes. Sadly, I have never been recruited to a cult - unless you count my co-worker handing me a Scientlolgy flyer as a joke - little did he know he was perilously close to setting me onto a road to be the next Mrs. Tom Cruise.

Why the talk of cults? Since the big move I have struggled, Dear Reader, with those beloved routines. I tried to ease into setting up those new routines - alarm schedules, workouts, chores, writing these posts, etc - in part because I wanted to give myself time to ease into the new place, and in hopes that some would come naturally. But they haven't, it's not that I am not functioning, but I can't seem to find a rhythm. And for someone who thrives on routines - it is driving me a bit bonkers. I know, intellectually, that it takes 6 weeks to form a habit, so if I want to get back into my routine of exercising 4 days a week, I need to force myself into those first 24 workouts. But, as I set-up a schedule I continually find myself begging off "just this one" after a rough day; I cant help but feel a little frustrated that everything isn't just seamlessly falling into place.... or that I am not in a cult where everything is already planned out for me and my Devoted Leader is forcing me into a cheerful 30 minutes of circuit training at the end of the day. 

So, instead of signing away my vast fortune and my first born, as well as the first borns of all my nearest and dearest, I am turning to you - my own devoted following - and using my promise to you to help get me back in my rhythm and hold me accountable. Similar to the 6 weeks to create a routine, writing down your goals makes you more likely to achieve them, as does having people hold you accountable (my dear and loyal readers - that would be you in this case). I am pulling out the big guns here, because at going on 2 months in, I need to get back into a routine or else I risk pulling out that Scientology brochure. 

With all that being said, here are my promises to you for the next 6 weeks:

• I will write a blog every week (and yes, for those of you who have been asking - I will consider writing something of more substance. No promises on a book.)
• I will do that stupid workout thing (Ugh, L., I think this means I am going to that crazy barre/kickboxing class we found.)
• I will not kill the herb garden I started
• I will not fall asleep on my couch during the week, instead I will go to bed like a real adult :)
• I will resist getting burgers, fries, and milkshakes at the amazing place on the corner (unless it is a special occasion - like finally getting this blog post up)
• I will update my resume, because you should always keep it up-to-date
• I will talk to a financial planner, because 401(k)s shouldn't be a mystery to me

I am just going to say that being Mrs. Tom Cruise seems a heck of a lot easier, but being an adult with free will is probably better in the long term. I guess we will see in 6 weeks. In the meantime, if anyone else is looking to better themselves and wants to join me in this quest - feel free to chime in and let me know what habit you are going to try and put in place; or just send some encouragement....I'm going to need it.

Six Years

Dear readers- I apologize for my little hiatus, but as you read this, I hope you will understand that the last couple months have been a bit chaotic and forgive me...

6 years ago, I packed up my life and made the move from NYC/NJ to VA/DC. I had been in the NY/NJ area for almost 10 years, and this move took me away from my nearest and dearest friends into a city where I knew all of 2 people and would be starting a job in a brand new industry. I was excited for the change, but obviously overwhelmed and terrified. My last apartment in NY was a 600 sq. foot 2 bedroom/1 bath and cost $1600 a month in rent. In VA, I moved into a 1200 sq. foot, 2-bedroom/2 bath apartment that had a balcony - it was like moving into a palace. There was central a/c, a dishwasher, and laundry, gym, and extra storage in the basement. All this and a top floor unit for under $1600. The only downside, was that it was a bit of a hike to the metro, but I quickly learned that this just gave me time to chat with my parents in the morning, call the friends i was dearly missing on my way home, or have some time to shake off a bad day. Plus it gave me time to enjoy all those trees that I had been telling everyone all about. On top of all of this, we were just a $10 cab ride away from Old Town, VA - which is a beautiful little waterfront town with fantastic shops and restaurants and the best speakeasy in the DMV. It was a unicorn apartment and for 6-years it was home.  

But all things must come to an end, and with the promotion last year that lovely commute got to be a bit much and the time had come to make the move. On April 15, the movers came and packed up the boxes and took to my new digs in Arlington. The lead up to the move was more emotional than I could have anticipated. I knew it was going to be hard, moving is a ton of work and i had been in my place for a long time, but I wasn't prepared for the emotional journey. I started packing 6-weeks out, because in the way of big life moments this one came in the midst of busy season and the middle of a spat of travel. As I started boxing up my life I realized how much had actually happened in this apartment and how much I had grown in my time year. Those 4-walls watched me have some of my highest highs and lowest lows. This was where I cried when my Grandma passed, where I celebrated the birth of my best friend's first born, where I made a home for myself away from my closest friends and family and fell in love with this little pocket of the world. This is where I realized that the dreams of my starry eyed youth were not the dreams of my adult life and where I really wanted to go in my life. This was the longest I had lived somewhere in my adult life and the move had become a bittersweet farewell to this period of my life. As I boxed up the heartbreaks and heartaches, the laughter, tears, and screams - I realized how many mementos those 1200 sq. feet had accumulated. I was able to throw out a lot of memories that I outgrew and remember ones that had long been pushed to the back of the closet. And when the time came, I was ready for that moving truck to pull up.

It has been almost a month now, and it is still weird to get home in under 30 minutes and to walk in and only have the cat talking to me. In some ways, I miss those 4-walls with a strength that breaks my heart a little. But at the same time I look at these 4 new walls and can only think - what will they see over the next 6-years. 

Sweaty Palms & Weak Knees

"... Palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy." Eminem captures nerves like no one else. Who can't read that and not vividly feel their stomach turning in anticipation and fear of the unknown?  

This was me three weeks ago. I had a first date, and for some reason it felt like my first first date. The night before I frantically tried on over 10 sweater-pants combinations, sending pictures to 5 different people begging for opinions. Desperately analyzing the details down to the pairings of the different boots matched with various earrings and necklaces. I hadn't agonized over details like this since I prepped for my first job interview, and this time I stayed uncertain until the last moments before the date when I made a final switch on the necklace (which I think took the look from work to evening out.) 

Adding to the anticipation was the fact that it was a late starting date - 8pm on a Friday in the District - which meant that I had to not only get through the work day, but find a way not to go mad for the 2.5 hours between work and the date. Luckily, C. took mercy on me and let me hang out at his place until he had to head out on his date. Unfortunately, his date started before mine, so I still had plenty of time to wonder why I had chosen the maroon pants instead of the blue chords - what was I thinking!? No matter how many times I reminded myself that I had done this before, that I actually enjoyed dating, and that I considered myself quite the accomplished dater - I could not shake the nerves. I managed to choke down the english muffin with peanut butter that I brought - in case we didn't eat it would give me something in my stomach without giving me a food baby belly, but even that was making me a bit nauseous. 

As the clock ticked down I closed up C.'s apartment and headed over. The weather must have felt my anxiety because the temperatures had dropped and the wind picked up - making a mess of my perfectly done hair. I arrived with a few minutes to spare and ran to the restroom to try and fix myself up as best I could before the zero hour arrived. As I walked across the tile, my heels were clicking - matching the tattoo of my heart, my breath backing up as my anticipation built, and all the last minute nerves skittering through my body as I approached the bar nervously looking around and wondering if we would recognize each other...

And we did. 

More to come on my dating adventures. 

Here We Go Again...

Well blog followers, here we go again...I'm dating! Which means fun dating stories for everyone here. I don't want to get your hopes too high, as it is still early days, but I wanted to share a few first impressions with you.

First, it is good to update your profile. I am back on eHarmony and it has been two years since I was on here. In addition to updating my pictures to feature me with luscious locks in lieu of the pixie I rocked back when I turned 30 - D. pointed out that it may be a good idea to update the match preferences section of my profile and re-do the questionnaire. As my matches before the update were either hipster beer snobs, who wanted to go for a hike and tell me about this new amazing band that I have never heard of; or douchey finance guys who had multiple pictures with their new car, riding a motorcycle, and hangin' with their crew at the opening of the newest, trendiest bar. So yeah, not exactly what I'm looking for these days. After 30 agonizing minutes, I made it through the quiz and was rewarded with some 30-something matches who are much more grounded, and have pictures of their dogs, talk about Netflix marathons, traveling, and going to their neighborhood pub. Success!

Second, people's expectations can be crazy. I forgot about this, or more likely I blocked this from my memory; but seriously - some people are just out of touch with reality. The first thing I do when I'm going through my matches is check out their pictures. Not to be totally shallow - but attraction is important - so why pretend otherwise. After that I read through their profiles and I typically find that the answer to the question "What are you looking for in your match" tells me the most about a guy. This is where you find out if they had a really crappy breakup [some real examples include, "She must be HONEST and TRUSTWORTHY." read: cheated on - probably a lot. "She has to be kind and respectful of her partner and his opinions and not harp on little mistakes." read: told they were wrong a lot. "She has to be fun and not take life too seriously. She should know that works isn't life." read: workaholic ex.  "She should know what she wants out of life and be confident to go after what she wants. She should be able to walk in a room and not depend on me." read: hot mess]. In addition to being an easy way to decide "send a smile" or "block this match" this is also where you find some really unbelievable expectations. There was one match I got (pre-updated profile) who described his ideal woman "I love beautiful, confident, and sexy women that are completely comfortable being a lady. Are you drop dead gorgeous, confident, secure, optimistic, intelligent, honest, outgoing, fun, sexy, happy, and a lady? My ideal woman is in great shape with a great body, long hair, beautiful eyes. Exercise and a healthy diet are a big part of her life...." It went on, there were a couple more references to a fit body and sexy being an ideal quality. He had some definite ideas about his perfect lady right? And I was stunned, because as I scrolled back through his pictures I was confused as this guy was easily 300 lbs and made no mention of his OWN love of exercise in his profile. It was just crazy that he had this expectation for his partner but was in no way going to live up to a similar standard. So yeah, people be trippin'!

Third, you gotta work! There are a lot of profiles to wade thorough and a perfect match doesn't happen instantaneously. I am someone who reads the last chapter before I get started - so not exactly patient, but online dating is not about instant results (well,Tinder kind of is, but not eharmony). So for me this is a bit of a challenge. Each morning I have anywhere from 5-15 profiles to go through and then about 20-30 messages to review and respond to - that takes a LOT of time! A number of these obviously get the pass, but the ones that don't - you want to give a thoughtful reply to, and that takes time...add to that there are more than a few who you end up talking to and the next thing you know -you are on the app for an hour every morning. Gah, dating is sooo much work! 

Finally, this can be fun. Despite all the weird and crazy outlined in 2 and 3 above, it is sooo exciting to see a really cute picture and then scroll down to find an interesting profile that grabs your attention and then to find a message from him that is thoughtful and engaging. That is what makes this totally worth it and I am happy to report that I have had such a scenario play out for me already on this round - so here is hoping that pretty soon I will be telling you about some fun and interesting dates with these fellows!!