Fourteen days until the 2012 Sundance Film Festival!

I AM SO STOKED!

I’ll be working this year as media coordinator at the Filmmaker Lodge. (Read: The chances of me running into – crossing my fingers for literal meaning here – Bob are significantly huge. HUGE!)

This year’s festival promises to be amazing! Just check out the films – (totally multiple exclamation point worthy).

My schedule this year will be extremely different from last year’s (remember last year I was a mere bus stop attendant, working a short 4 hours a day which gave me ample time and opportunity to view the many films). I hope that I’ll be able to catch a few films this year. I’m looking forward to (in no particular order):

The Imposter
About Face
38-39〫C
About the Pink Sky
Bones Brigade: An Autobiography
Chasing Ice
The Comedy
The D Word: Understanding Dyslexia
Madrid, 1987
Wrong
Payback
Putin’s Kiss
Detropia
Finding North

I’m also looking forward to a couple of panels – one with the awesome Margaret Atwood and the other with the equally as awesome Tiffany Shlain.

I will be in Park City, Utah for the entire festival. This year I will be writing during the festival about the entire volunteer experience – from checking in and getting my credentials, Kenneth Cole jacket and room assignment, to the eating, the drinking, the merrymaking, and of course, the films.

Happy new year, my friends!

I hope that you all had a wonderful holiday season and that your new year is starting out well. I know it has been awhile since I’ve written any thing worth reading lately. What I’ve finally realized is that I really like taking a break during the holidays. And when I say “during the holidays” I really mean from about November to the new year – a sort of holiday hiatus, if you will.

I first realized I was doing this holiday hiatus thing last year (2010), and felt extremely guilty about it. This year (2011), when I found myself doing it again, with the help of my loving and supportive husband (who has nice, big muscles), I felt very different about it. He was all, “Kim, this is exactly what you need. Why put additional stress on an already stressful holiday season?” And he was right. So I was able to feel good about it and let it go.

And there was really nothing better than getting to spend the holidays with my family and friends 100 percent present and in the moment!

Because really. Who dictates how much and when to write? We do. Right? Yet we always feel obligated to put stuff out there – the fear that “OH MY LORD, I’LL LOSE READERS IF I DON’T PUT STUFF OUT THERE” seems always to haunt us.

But I’ve got a new theory for my writing.

And my theory is more about doing what’s right for ME (selfish, I know) and less about how many people read my blog. According to my theory, the more I treat myself better, the better person I will be… which will not only be reflected in my everyday actions, but eventually in my writing as well. {smile}

However, now that I’ve got that all off my chest, I must admit that I did do something fairly rude…

I left you hanging.

Instead of telling y’all that I’d be somewhat non-existent for the holiday season, I just kinda didn’t show up. And for that I apologize. No more not showing up from now on.

Pinky promise.

***

Some of you may be thinking that that’s a really long hiatus. November through the new year? Really?

You’re right. It is really long.

But here’s why.

I use the entire month of November for reflection.

Well. I use the entire first half of November for reflection, then I use the next week for Thanksgiving menu planning, then I use the last part of November for feasting & holiday readying. But that’s beside the point.

I do this because I know, I KNOW, that I won’t have the proper time to do this before the new year once the holidays begin. And doing this sort of thing during the first days of the new year is just, in my mind, way too late. I want to get a head start on this thing. If I’m gonna make it a good year, I need to have focus going into it. But that’s just me.

I use those first several weeks in November to diligently sit down and write out all of my accomplishments over the year, and I throw a huge party (read: I drink a bottle of champers) for all my accomplishments. True story. (We should never ever let our accomplishments go unrecognized – especially by our own selves. Go ahead. Throw yourself a party. You deserve it!)

And then I write out all of the goals that I may have had for myself during the year that I didn’t get to accomplish. And I ask myself a couple of questions.

1) What were the reasons I didn’t accomplish the goal?
2) Is it still a goal? Or have I moved on?

Once I figure out the answers to those questions, I include it in my next year’s resolutions – or I don’t.

Then I sit down and write out all the new goals that I’d like to focus on in the new year and I work on a mind map.

Last year mine looked like this:

and this year, it looks like this:

I blurred them out because life goals are somewhat personal to me. There are plenty that I don’t mind sharing… but I really try to be extremely honest with myself when I do this, and to be perfectly honest with y’all there are just some goals that I don’t wish to share, for a multitude of reasons. I don’t think I’m weird for it… I think it’s only human nature to want to protect what is so ultimately ME.

I know mind mapping might sound a little silly for some of you, but it worked really well for me as a way to creatively sort out my thoughts, and to put them in perspective in an organized way in order to better achieve my goals. And I really feel 2011 was a hugely successful year for me. Probably even the best year I’ve ever had.

There’s several ways to mind map. With pen and paper, like this. You can get all creative and draw pictures, or you can just use words. I also found a couple of great mind mapping apps for the iphone:

iThoughts     $7.99

and Mindjet     $FREE

I know that every one has their very own way of getting ready to make the new year the best for them. I just thought I’d share what works for me.

Thank you all so much for stopping by here to read my ramblings – I really appreciate you. And I wish you the very best for 2012!

About a year ago I was re-introduced to the idea that our brain’s two hemispheres work contrasting elements of our being – the left hemisphere, the more linear & methodical, all about details; the right hemisphere, more about imagery, energy and all about the big picture.

At the time I was reading Leonard Shlain’s Alphabet Versus the Goddess and Jill Bolte Taylor’s My Stroke of Insight. And through much of my reading and research, I learned that, (hopefully not overly) simplistically, the left hemisphere thinks in language and the right in pictures. I also learned that since the dawning of the age of language, the left hemisphere of our brain is the more dominant.

Which brings me to my point.

I decided not to join the I Will Provide Every Opportunity For My Kid To Get Ahead crowd in jumping off the My Kid Can Read At An (Insanely) Early Age bridge, much less the über competitive parent crowd that can’t resist relegating their child to a mere party trick every time we get together for a neighborhood BBQ, “but look at what my little Timmy can do now!”

Not that any of the above is bad.

I just decided that possibly, I could actually help my daughter exponentially by leaving the ABC’s and 123′s the hell alone.

The thought process being that she’d learn them soon enough in school, and that the more she’s in the stage where her brain functions in a more balanced way (because she hasn’t learned to read or write), the more it will carry into her adulthood, in hopes that she will mature to be the next Leonardo da Vinci. {smile}

So imagine my surprise when, last night, she busted out with this:

Disclosure: I realize now that with this post, I have inadvertently joined the ranks of the “über competitive parent crowd that can’t resist relegating their child to a mere party trick every time we get together for a neighborhood BBQ, she logs onto her blog, “but look at what my little Timmy can do now!” Booyah.

Family secrets and lies are the subjects of Kim Edwards‘s new book, The Lake of Dreams which follows a young woman as she tracks the life of an ancestor expunged from her family’s history.

Lucy Jarrett comes home to an upstate New York village in the finger lakes region called the Lake of Dreams after years working overseas. A decade ago, she left for college following her father’s death in a mysterious boating accident, blaming herself for refusing to go fishing with him that night. And she’s been traveling ever since, “from college to grad school, from good jobs to better ones and through a whole series of romances, leaving all that grief behind.”

When Lucy arrives, every thing is different. She finds herself lost in the progress of every one else’s lives.

Then Lucy discovers a stack of old papers in a room that’s been closed off since her father died. They include fliers from the early 20th-century feminist movement and a note from 1925, signed only with the initial R, that refers to a 14-year-old girl, Iris, being sent away from home.

Ultimately, Lucy immerses herself in ferreting out the awesome story of her lost ancestor. But unfortunately for the novel, Edwards crams all of the plot into a scant two-week time span filled with impossibly convenient and obvious discoveries, making it feel much too contrived. Lucy’s revelations are overly long anticipated and make it an absolute grind to read through ten pages of sentimental muck to arrive at the very conclusion that Edwards pointed to in the previous chapter.

However.

What I really enjoyed most about the book is the the story of Lucy’s lost ancestor, Rose and the moment she clicked and discovered her feminism and became involved in the feminist movement. Now that is a good story!

Confession: I’ve not read Edwards’s first novel, and best-seller, The Memory Keeper’s Daughter so I can’t tell you how The Lake of Dreams compares, but I can tell you that it is a look inside how circumstances can shape a life; and how altering one’s perspective (or truth) can change that life all over again. And that despite it’s ambition, the novel is beautifully written with lots of vivid imagery.

To find out more, or to read other reviewers’ take on the novel, join me over at the BlogHer Book Club where we’ll be discussing Kim Edwards’ The Lake of Dreams for the next month. Come join the conversation!

*Disclosure: I was remunerated for this review. All opinions are my own.

Rachel Simmons (@RachelJSimmons) on how culture affects girls:

Jennifer Seibel Newsom (@JenSeibelNewsom) on her film Miss Representation (@RepresentPledge)

Tiffany Shlain (@TiffanyShlain) on what it means to be Connected in the 21st Century:

Every year I fret over what to give my daughter’s teachers for the holidays. Last year, I started making their gifts and it was such a success that I’m doing it again this year.

A couple of weeks ago, I participated in a local art stroll and sold these coasters. In fact, I sold several of them… which leads me to believe that Juniper’s teachers will like them too.

You will need:

Bathroom tile
Decorative paper (I used scrapbook paper and a map; here’s a link to my favorite paper store), cut into squares
Paper cutter
Mod Podge
Glue brush
Felt, cut into squares
Tacky Glue
Crystal Clear Acrylic Spray (Gloss)

First, wipe all the tiles with a damp cloth to remove any dust/debris. Then cut paper into squares (for my standard sized tiles, I cut into 3 3/4 squares).

Lightly brush Mod Podge over tiles and place paper square on top; work out any air bubbles. Then lightly brush more Mod Podge over the papered tile to ensure edges are secure down.

Let the glue dry. After they’re dry, flip them over and glue the felt squares to the bottoms.

Finally, take the tiles outdoors and spray a coat of clear acrylic over the tiles. This will put a nice glossy finish on them and make them waterproof.

Voilà!

I found this on my desk this morning:

{swoon}

It’s just one of the many reasons my husband still rocks my world after all these years!

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a recipe. So here goes!

This is one of my favorites to make – tasty & tender portobellos stuffed with flavorful vegetables. Hungry yet?

You’ll need:

Portobello mushroom caps
olive oil
white wine or broth
fennel
onion
bell pepper (I used orange)
celery
garlic
egg
cheese (I used my fave, havarti)
bread crumbs (I used panko)
rosemary (I used dried, but you can use fresh)
and crushed red pepper flakes

Preheat your oven to 450° F. Wipe the mushrooms with a paper towel to remove any dirt. De-stem and de-gill the portobellos (by gently scraping with a spoon). Drizzle some oil in the bottom of a shallow baking dish and place the mushrooms on top. Drizzle a bit of oil on top of the mushrooms. Set aside.

Chop the veggies.

Sautee the veggies in olive oil (or butter), garlic and rosemary for about 5-10 minutes, until crisp-tender. Add a pinch of red pepper.

Add some white wine or broth to glaze the pan. Cook for another 5 minutes.

Stir in the bread crumbs/panko – it will absorb some of the wine/broth.

Lightly beat an egg.

Remove from heat and stir in the egg.

Mound the stuffing mixture into the mushroom caps.

Top  with a bit of cheese.

Bake in preheated oven for 30 minutes or until the mushrooms are tender and the stuffing is browned.

Voila!

Notes:

• There was much more stuffing than could fill three mushroom caps. Thankfully I had some more bellas on hand to fill.
• You can easily add protein to this recipe by adding ground pork sausage and/or a soy substitute. I’ve made it both ways. I personally love it with ground pork sausage – so tasty!

A picture worth 170 pages: A world where people drive too fast, live too fast – too busy moving from one thing to the next. A world where the pedestrian is rare. A world where people are too busy (and prefer) watching television on their walls, or watching races or going to fun parks, to sit down and talk. A world where people constantly have ear buds in their ears. A world where real knowledge has been condensed and packaged into small factoids.  A world where unhappiness is over-medicated, where medication is abused, and where suicide attempts are on the rise. A world where a war is being continuously waged…

Sound familiar? Yet another example of the ever so round-about idea of “life imitating art” (the other half of the circle, being “art imitating life”). And one of the reasons Fahrenheit 451 is oft listed on lists enumerating books that have changed the world.

Did you know that in the spring of 1950, Ray Bradbury crafted the first draft of this masterpiece in the basement of the UCLA library – in just 4.5 hours?

For eighty cents?

Complete and total badassery.

The 50th Anniversary of Fahrenheit 451 was celebrated in 2003, just three years before the advent of Twitter (a social media and microblogging tool that allows for communication and the sharing of knowledge through short blasts of 140 characters or less). Interestingly, I found Ray Bradbury on Twitter! I thought for sure that he’d be protesting such a movement, but I’m happy to know that such a thought leading icon as himself has embraced the benefits of social media, even Twitter – the very idea of condensed knowledge made manifest!

The novel opens up with a description of the new dystopian world that humans find themselves living in. A new era where books have been deemed the enemy and are burned. The main character, Guy Montag, finds himself an enforcer of such dictum but is quickly shaken and riveted by three very simple words.

“Are you happy?”

The rest of the novel is Guy Montag’s awakening of sorts and definitely should not be summarized – but read.

A few of my favorite quotes include:

“We are all bits and pieces of history and literature and international law.”

“But you can’t make people listen. They have to come ’round in their own time…”

“Stuff your eyes with wonder. Live as if you’d drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that. Shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass.”

“The air was cold and smelled of a coming rain.” – this last one because it reminds me of his short story, There Will Come Soft Rains, inspired by a fantastic poem of the same name, written by Sarah Teasdale.

Another quote I really like is the one that Bradbury provides on the page just before the novel begins,
“If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.” – Juan Ramón Jiménez.

***

Pardon me while I digress…

I’m in love with Ray Bradbury. And Margaret Atwood. And Kurt Vonnegut. And a whole slew of others…  but also this whole idea of social satire set in futuristic dystopian worlds.

The love affair happened years ago, in high school. It was my first year teaching high school English Lit. and the very first unit was on “The Challenge of Change” and “The Price of Progress” and I was forced to read these authors and teach these universal themes for the very first time.

I’m not sure if it all made a lasting impression on me because I studied it so well so that I could teach it that I ended up loving it, or vice versa; but whichever the egg, I’m a happy chicken for having discovered such beauty!

Here are two oldies, but goodies for your weekend pleasure…

I have a hard time with trusting women.

Which is probably one of the biggest reasons I grew up with few girl friends (there are certainly other factors that played into the why-I-grew-up-with-few-friends hand, but that’s an entirely different story altogether).

You see, during my most formative years – the ones where you learn the fundamentals of friend-making and friend-keeping, I was largely influenced by a queen bee type who was very fickle – one day you were “in” and the next day you were “out” (who woulda thought that one day a television show would be made out of her daily mantra?)

Sure I’m exaggerating, there may’ve been a week (or if you were lucky a month) when you were “in” and now that I think about it, I’m not quite sure how long you may’ve been considered “out” but it certainly felt like a decade.

The being “in” part was nice. The being “out” part, as you can guess, not so much nice. At. All.

When you were out, the girls and boys that you had just (maybe even minutes ago) called friends were now giving you the hairy eyeball and/or completely ignoring you and/or tearing out your seedling plants (something I am guilty of having done in retaliation for having been black-balled). Slam books were the norm.

The worst part was feeling outcast – a pariah.

For me, the experience was exaggerated by the fact that I was considered the queen bee’s “best friend” so when she was mad at me, the ill effects were exponential.

Like the one time she decided I was an enemy during the annual Spring Fling. I arrived at school on the following Monday with the entire 6th grade class wearing anti-Kim buttons. (SO not exaggerating this one)

It’s a hard image to forget at 11 years old, multiplied by something like 120-ish kids in the 6th grade.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m no saint. I too engaged in such behavior. And had queen bee decided to turn against a different girl during that particular Spring Fest, you probably would have found me adorned with a similar button on Monday morning suggesting a protest of the other innocent young girl.

Luckily for me my dad was in the military and I only had to endure 3 years of this fickle one day you’re in, the next day you’re out crap. And when I went off in my separate direction I never looked back. But my life had been utterly changed.

I never had a close girl friend ever again. (And I do mean EVER.)

The sad news is that almost twenty five years later, I am still witness to similar behaviors in women. Why?

WHY?

Perhaps I am overly sensitive due to my past experience, but I don’t think one can chalk it all up to that. When I worked in the fashion world as a stylist of dummies, I witnessed droves of women being mean to other women. Many of them were worried that the other girl would get her position, or out-do her on a project and others were just plain jealous. I never really understood the whole thing, which is why I stuck to my own corner and lived life a loner-type. I was much more happy doing that than having to deal with… drama.

But now that I’m all grown up, I wonder why women still do this to each other. A few years ago, I read an article written by a feminist that said something like the whole idea of women not helping other women just doesn’t exist anymore. And I was all, “Well, OKAY! Maybe I should re-evaluate.”

After having re-evaluated, I want to ask the author of said article,
“What bubble, exactly, do you live in? …because I WANT IN!”

Comments are open. Please feel free to discuss…

Dear Juniper,

We’ve come a long way, babes. Happy Birthday!
 

I just got shellacked. Check out my fancy toes.

Shellac™ is the newest craze on the mani/pedi scene. It’s supposed to last up to 14 days without losing shine or shimmer (so says my pedicurist at my favorite spot to Get Nailed).

I do notice that my pedicure is a lot more shiny than usual, but we’ll see about the whole “won’t scratch, smudge or chip” claim… if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to put a hurtin’ on a pedicure! Getting shellacked will run you $20-25 in addition to the pedicure price. On whether or not it’s worth the investment? I’ll keep you posted.

***UPDATE***

40 days after the initial shellac-ing

Welcome to the very first post in an entirely new category! Here is where I’ll archive words that I’ve come across that resonate with me, or that I’ve picked out in the most adventurous way possible when dealing with dictionaries – blindfolded.

Also, I’ve been looking for a place to write about writing. I think I can kill two birds with one stone here…

The inaugural word?

So as y’all know I went to that abandoned supermarket for a “secret” concert last Friday night.

AND IT WAS AWESOME!

The abandoned supermarket turned out to be a person’s home – they’d purchased the thing and renovated it years and years ago, before any zoning regulations told them they couldn’t. Inside is a gorgeous home – one that can grace the cover of any design magazine (they’re artists) – perfect for such a gathering.

Get this:
It turns out, I know the homeowners.

HA!

Obviously, we’re not close friends, but I have met the lady homeowner before while doing some work at the San Antonio Museum of Art.
And…
I’m in a book club with her.

Talk about a small world and life handing up a perfect moment of synchronosity, eh?

The gathering was interesting – a mix of people who knew the homeowners, Austin-ites, Bobby followers, artsy San Antonians and random cling-ons (like myself). And at one point in the night I drank a shot of Tequila from a fancy red bottle brought to the party by a dude we called “Laredo Luis” (who apparently is a huge Bobby Bare Jr. stalker fan).

The music was great. Bobby Bare Jr. was great.
I only wish I could’ve videoed some footage for you, but I was too busy having my ears made love to.
Um. Okay. That was weird.

He ended with a number called Rock-n-roll Halloween. Those hard-core Bobby fans were dressed up as characters in the song… here’s where the beloved pregnant nun started to bust a move:

Moral: Don’t judge a secret concert by its cover.

On Friday night, I am going to go here:

An old abandoned grocery store in the middle of Southtown…
In the vain of finding and listening to new and good music and sharing it with you…
of getting back into the groove…

I am going to a secret concert.

Well. Not so much secret, but kinda secret.

You see the location wasn’t disclosed until after I purchased the ticket. The whole set up reminds me of the whole Eyes Wide Shut cult with the capes and the mask and the… well. Not so much the orgies.

Actually, it’s very different & much more innocent. But the whole secrecy thing is pretty damn intoxicating, riveting, thrilling, scary… out of the norm.

I keep visualizing that we’ll all be sardined in there, listening to this guy and his guitar when all of a sudden we’ll be drenched in blood… or gassed… or vampires will descend from above and engorge themselves on our necks…

Perhaps I’ve been negatively affected by having watched scary movies at too early an age.

If I survive, I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes.
Wish me well.

One of our favorite past times while dining out is scoping out the other couples, picking one or two and making up what we think is their story.

One of the saddest sights we’ve witnessed is when we see a couple out to enjoy a dinner together that they are obviously not enjoying, together.

Tim and I promised each other early in our relationship that we would never be that couple. The one with nothing to say to each other. The one with blank looks and bored body language, barely making eye contact with each other.

The story with that couple is always that they’ve fallen out of love.

Except for when it’s not.
A few weeks ago, Tim and I ventured up to Round Rock, Texas (about a two-hour drive, with traffic). It was quite possibly the worst idea ever.

I’d been sick all week with grapefruit-sized tonsils, an upper respiratory infection and laryngitis. But on Saturday morning, I got up and felt energized; still ill, but better. Having been cooped up in the house all week, I was desperate for adventure.

And when I say adventure, I mean shopping for a big girl bed for our little Maguai so that her daddy and I can finally sleep in the same bed together!

The adventure was had. All day we shopped for beds.

Then, because I have this mind that won’t be satisfied with not knowing, I suggested we drive up to the Ikea in Round Rock to see what we could see.

And because I have a husband who knows about my mind that won’t be satisfied without knowing and still loves me in spite of it, we went.

It was five in the evening and knowing, KNOWING that he’d probably miss the first half of the Tigers’ game, my husband, because he loves me, hopped in the car, without word or hesitation, and drove us, for two-hours, up to Round Rock.

Just as we were pulling up to the Ikea store, my left ear starts hurting like a mo-fo. I’m talkin’ severe, gonna-make me cry in public, P-A-I-N. My ear clogged up like it does when there’s a change in pressure (airplanes, mountains, scuba diving, etc.) and there was this constant pressure in my ear that just would not go away no matter how many times I fake yawned.

But because we are not time wasters, we shopped. And when we were done, we were all tired and famished so we went to the nearest restaurant and had dinner.

Now. I’m going to stop and admit to you right here and now that that dinner place that we went to was T.G.I.Friday’s. And that it was only after I had scarfed down my meal in record time (it was something like five minutes – due to the fact that I WAS IN PAIN and that I WANTED TO GET SOME PAIN RELIEVER and that I WANTED TO GO HOME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE) and sat there glaring at Tim, wondering why he STILL HAD NOT TOUCHED HIS BURGER that I realized that we were there…

For. The Game.

(ARE. YOU. FRIGGIN’ KIDDING ME?)

So I sat there, all passive-aggressive like, silently fuming and trying to do my best “I’M IN PAIN AND YOU’RE NOT TENDING TO ME” facial expressions. But all was unnoticed because that husband of mine that loves me so much? His eyes were glued. And I do mean G-L-U-E-D. to the Tigers’ game.

We sat there, not saying a word to each other – Tim engrossed in the television and me tending to our increasingly cranky daughter.

The funny thing is the whole time we were sitting there, I realized that we had turned into that couple. And I quickly became very self-conscious and tried to start up conversation with Tim only to be half-listened to. I remember being very worried of the waitresses watching our table, judging. Other tables of couples looking at us and trying to decipher our story.

I wanted to put up a sign that said, “No! WE ARE NOT THAT COUPLE! We still love each other. VERY MUCH! And we are always engaged in very interesting conversation. ALL THE TIME. Thank you very much.”

And then a second sign that said, “We are tired and in pain and having a bad night. Please don’t judge.”

So I guess my point is, the next time we’re out for dinner and indulging ourselves in our little story-making game, when we see the couple with nothing to say to each other. The one with blank looks and bored body language, barely making eye contact with each other.
Instead of jumping to conclusions, we might just cut them a break and come up with a more hopeful story.

Remember that one time this year when I vowed to find and listen to new music and share it with y’all?

Well. It’s only taken me ten months, but here’s another great find!

another video from their Vimeo site…

Though I really like their music and adore their French-ness, most specifically their accents (which can be heard when they speak), I really find it hard to watch them speaking all sexy & French-like and then hear them sing all American-like. It’s just odd. But you don’t get any of the oddness when you just listen to them… What do you think?

Also. Here’s their website.

Have you ever had one of those moments when you just can’t get something off your mind?

I was just upstairs in my studio creating some art for this art stroll that I signed up for and in my head starts dancing this little negative distraction… and next thing you know I’m obsessing about this particular negative distraction! Completely side-tracked, but before the thought process is allowed to wreck my mood, I am reminded about this book, The Wife by Meg Wolitzer.

And because I have nothing to say about the negative distraction that is nice, I will just inundate you with yet another book!

This one I read several months ago and it is quite simply a gem!

The Wife is a great little book about marriage, motherhood, sacrifices and writing.

What I loved the most is that it gave some perspective on writing – specifically women and writing – especially because (get this) I’m a woman!
And?
I’m a writer!

The story begins with Joan Castleman deciding to leave her famous novelist husband, Joseph Castleman, as they are in the midst of a flight to Helsinki where Joe is about to be awarded a major international literary prize. The reasons as to why she has finally chosen to do so are fleshed out in flashbacks on how they met, their marriage, their careers and their children.

When Joan meets Joe, she herself has dreams of writing. However, coming of age at Smith College in the late 1950s (a setting similar to that of Mona Lisa Smile) and then working at a publishing house, she’s quick to learn how male-dominated the world of writing is. And as a result, she ends up spending many of her years subjugating her own literary talents to fan the flames of his career. Forty years later, she has had enough.

To make things even more interesting, they have a secret.

A dirty little secret.

No.

A BIG FAT JUICY GINORMOUS LITTLE SECRET!

And though you quick thinkers might be able to guess the secret early on, Wolitzer does not disappoint – her craft in story design is spot-on!

Here are a few of my favorite quotes…

on the difference of men & women:
“Joe told me he felt a little sorry for women, who only got husbands.  Husbands tried to help by giving answers, being logical, stubbornly applying force as though it were a glue gun.  Or else they didn’t try to help at all, for they were somewhere else entirely, out walking in the world by themselves.  But wives, oh wives, when they weren’t being bitter or melancholy or counting the beads on their abacus of disappointment, they could take care of you with delicate and effortless ease.”

on marriage:
“I hadn’t asked him the question out of actual concern; it was more of a marital reflex.  All over the world, husbands and wives routinely and somewhat pointlessly ask one another: Are you okay? It’s part of the contract; it’s the thing to do, because it implies that you care, that you’re paying attention, when in fact you might be deeply and relentlessly bored.”

on a woman’s sacrifice:
“Everyone knows how women soldier on, how women dream up blueprints, recipes, ideas for a better world, and then sometimes lose them on the way to the crib in the middle of the night, on the way to the Stop & Shop, or the bath. They lose them on the way to greasing the path on which their husband and children will ride serenely through life. … Everyone needs a wife, even wives need wives.”

The Wife is fantastic & quick. Perfect for your next in-flight read or as you drink cocktails by the pool… or in between chasing  your kiddos around the park.
A definite must read.

***SPOILER ALERT. KINDA.***

Can I talk to you about ‸go off on a tangent about the Castleman’s big fat juicy ginormous little secret?

First of all, writing, in general, is not for anyone without thick skin and an unshakeable belief in one’s ability. As bloggers, you and I both know this. We put our selves out there every day. We make ourselves vulnerable. But we remain authentic.

We are real. We have no wing-man who looks over our shoulders and guides our every move; no secret ghost writer who edits and re-writes our posts to fuel the flames of our aspirations. We do it on our own.

This dirty little secret of theirs totally reminds me of the old phrase, “behind every great man there’s an even greater woman.”

Have you read the book? What do you think?

The past month or so has been hell.

About a week before I left for D.C. to compete in the Nation’s Triathlon, I found a lump in my boob.

A noticeable lump. One that I’d never felt before.
(This is where I admit that it’d been probably over two years since the last time I gave myself a boob exam).

So when the doctor was all, “we’ve got to schedule a biopsy.”
I was all, “we’ll have to do it in three weeks because I just HAVE to do this triathlon…”

I’m not gonna lie. In those three weeks, I felt oblivious to my “condition.” Friends would ask how I felt and in truth, I felt weird that I couldn’t tell them how I felt. I think I was in denial. So. There’s a lump in my boob. Could be bad, could be nothing at all… an “I don’t want to think about it” kind of thing.

When the time came, I went in for my biopsy. I was completely one-hundred-percent stoic.

Even when I was pulled into a room where the nurse went over the entire procedure, along with the risks and asked me to sign the consent form: stoic.

But then she handed me a pamphlet to look over while I waited for the doctor.

“You will be called within 2 weeks by someone from the Breast Imaging Center to schedule an appointment with your Radiologist. You will be given the results of your breast biopsy. We recommend you bring someone with you when you come in for this appointment…“

That’s when I turned into a blubbering mess.

“WE RECOMMEND YOU BRING SOMEONE WITH YOU WHEN YOU COME IN FOR THIS APPOINTMENT.”

Like they’re telling me, “it’s going to be bad and you’re gonna need some one there.” I pictured me and… well, who would I bring? My husband? He’s at Ft. Hood for the next two months.

[Did I mention that Tim’s been in Ft. Hood since the beginning of September? So. Yeah. I’ve been single-mom-ing it, without any relief - no work to go to, or husband/significant other to take it out on take over for me when I'm at my wit's end...]

I pulled it together just before the doctor came in.

The biopsy failed. Meaning they decided not to do the biopsy because the darn lump kept moving around and the ultrasound wasn’t helping out any. So I left with nothing more than a deep cut in my boob and an appointment to come back for an MRI biopsy.

Then we immediately left for Yosemite’s Half Dome.

When I came back, I had this great idea to establish a Project Runway themed fashion show during our local Fashion Week to benefit our local food bank. And I worked my little katush off trying to pull this thing off in just 2.5 weeks.

With a little help, I was able to pull that sucker off fairly successfully. But I’m not gonna lie… I think I turned grey during those three weeks – and not just in my eyebrow. It’s the weirdest thing – the people I thought I’d get support from offered none; however, I received tons from people that I had absolutely no relationships with – complete strangers… (just an observation).

In the midst of all this putting together a fashion show hoopla, I had to wear a Holter monitor to measure the electrical activity of my cardiovascular system. You see, right around the same time a found a lump in my boob, I was also feeling light-headed and nauseous. So I Googled the symptoms and there were three different ways to look at this. 1) Heart problem 2) Brain problem 3) No problem – just the result of my coming off my anti-depressants, quicker that I probably should have.

And because I have a family history of Wolf-Parkinson-White Syndrome, the doc decided that I should get to wear this contraption around my neck for a week.

No big deal.

Until it kept beeping at me and demanding that I charge its battery ALL. THE. TIME. I couldn’t go for a day trip (which I do frequently) without having to recharge the damn battery. I botched the the whole thing twice. The third time I just gave up and turned the thing in.

And as a testament as to how hard I must’ve been working my body and how stressed-out I was in those 2.5 weeks, immediately after the fashion show, I lost my voice. Then, on Saturday, I woke up with a violent sinus infection and tonsils the size of avocados. Late on Saturday, I was keeled over in excruciating pain – my very first middle ear infection, ever. On Sunday I contracted a bacterial conjunctivitis in both my eyes.

So yeah. I haven’t written a post in a while. And the posts that I have written pretty much suck balls. But it’s been a stellar two months all culminating in this trifecta sinus infection, ear infection, bacterial conjunctivitis fustercluck.

And.

I think just started my period.

A week ago I purchased a copy of Tim Gunn’s book Gunn’s Golden Rules: Life’s Little Lessons for Making It Work and vowed to plow through it before meeting him on Saturday afternoon. And I did! And I was quite taken-aback… in a good way. I thought the book would be about fashion and what to wear and what not to wear, yada, yada, yada. But I was pleasantly surprised when Tim announced at the very beginning that this book is his manifesto.

“A manifesto for kindness, generosity, and integrity.”

Can I get an “AMEN!”?

In a world an American culture full of young adults with an overblown sense of entitlement and detachment from reality, this is just what the doctor ordered!

Gunn’s Golden Rules is an enjoyable and authentic account of his rise to success and what he learned along the way. It reads like he’s right there with you, by your side; rolling his eyes along with you as you read about his celebrity misbehavior stories (there’s enough in this book to keep the attention of even the most inane pop culture junkies). And if you are familiar with Tim Gunn at all, you’ll hear the sound of his voice in your head as you read.

There are 18 ‘golden rules,’ starting with Make It Work and ending with Carry On. Gunn gives his insights on a range of social niceties – from holding doors to gift giving – including examples of his own social gaffs plus those of others, even well-known fashion icons.

Woven throughout the Golden Rules are intimate stories of Gunn’s personal life, ranging from his young childhood as the son of an important FBI agent with Presidential ties, to a teenage suicide attempt, to even his love life.

Also? There’s this part about Jay Edgar Hoover.

CROSS DRESSING TO LOOK LIKE VIVIAN VANCE!

Of course this is just speculation. But FUN speculation (founded on fairly sturdy groundwork).

Some of my very favorite quotes and stories include:

“If you look at the process of creating a work of art or a design as a journey of one hundred steps, steps one through ninety-five are relatively easy. It’s the last five that are hard. How do you achieve closure? How do you finish it? That’s the hard part.”

“Bad weather is good for parties. You get only those people who really want to be there.”

“You can be too rich and too thin, but you can never be too well read or too curious about the world.”

Martha Stewart’s insane prohibition of Diet Coke in her television studio.

Descriptions of the Vogue offices.

The birth of Project Runway.

A unique juxtaposition of etiquette guide, pet peeves, personal and celebrity gossip, Tim’s book is great and very fun to read.

Landscapes: Volume Two from Dustin Farrell on Vimeo.

The other day I enjoyed lunch with a couple of friends at this one sushi joint and at the end of our lovely meal I got this…

 WHAT THE HELL KIND OF FORTUNE IS THIS?

HOW DARK IS DARK?

Seriously? [MULTIPLE EXCLAMATION POINTS]

The question I have is, can I sue this fortune cookie for pain and suffering? I mean, because ever since I cracked that puppy open I’ve been worrying about all sorts of things – like that maybe regardless of how hard we try, we will never conceive another child and little Juniper will grow up sibling-less. And… about how I just got off of my anti-depressants and that, does this mean that it’s going to get pretty effing dark? Soon? How soon? Or that maybe my booby biopsy is going to come back positive… Or that wearing this heart monitor is going to show that, yes, indeed I do have that one thingamajig.

Or worse, even… all of the above?

I would just love to kick the little snot who wrote this “fortune” in the ass.
That is all.

Lucky for me, I received a copy of Amy Kalafa’s Lunch Wars in the mail the day before I left for our huge trip to Yosemite National Park to celebrate my sister-in-law’s 40th birthday.

We flew into San Jose, rented my husband a boy-toy of his own and high-tailed it to Beale A.F.B., California to visit my childhood home. As we drove closer to our destination, I reminisced about a certain route that my family would take when we traveled back from a day trip to Sacramento – the “back way” through some wide-open spaces and golden fields. So I suggested that we do the same and my husband, great guy that he is, totally humored me.

As we made our way toward Wheatland (can’t you just see the golden fields in your head? What a great name, right?) we were pleasantly surprised when suddenly we were driving through groves upon groves of walnut trees. And came across this fruit stand.

As we walked around the cute little fruit stand, picking out peaches, corn, apples and pluots (which, quite frankly is the best fruit I’ve tasted in awhile) we struck up a conversation with the lady that was “manning the booth”.

Turns out, she worked as a school cafeteria lady…

IN MY CHILDHOOD ELEMENTARY SCHOOL!
And?! (get this) Her name is FLO!
(How much more lunch-room lady can you get?)

I just love, LOVE when my world proves to be synchronous.

Of course I start talking to her about her experiences and she’s so nice and sweet and she tells me how “back in the day” they actually made every thing from scratch right there in the kitchen. When I told her that one of my favorite meals from childhood was the square pizza (don’t judge), she obliged me the story of how they made the dough and rolled it out in such an efficient way. It was such a fantastic conversation.

Really. It was beautiful.

So when I finally had the chance to pick up Lunch Wars, of course the entire time I’m thinking about Flo and about when it was, exactly, that Americans sold-out. And, based on my conversation with Flo, I think it happened during my generation (Flo mentioned changes started happening in the mid 1980′s).

Amy Kalata is a documentary film maker who explored the state of school lunches in her film Two Angry Moms. In Lunch Wars, she provides thoroughly researched statistics on our food culture and the food industry itself and how they both have such a huge (sadly, negative) impact on our children’s health.

The point that stands out to me the most is that despite how hard we, as parents, work to not only provide our children with healthy nutrient-rich foods, and educate them on eating healthy and making right choices… all of that is undermined in the very school lunch room that we send them off to each and every day – without question.

And because school food is one of the first times an individual makes choices over what he/she eats, ultimately even learns how to make food choices for their entire lives, this is not only an alarming realization but, for me, a catalyst in getting involved with my daughter’s school on a whole different level.

As I mentioned, the book is written as a guide on how to create your own school food revolution. And I think one of the most helpful tips in the book is to go have lunch at school with your child. Even more importantly, Amy points out ways to audit and analyze the entire lunch room experience – from weather or not it’s too noisy, to if the kids have a place to sit at a table, with enough room, to if there are any parents helping out as volunteers.

What a great way to learn about the food culture that is being passed on to your child.

What I value most about Lunch Wars is that it provides you with an actionable plan that any one of us can follow to make our own “one small step” toward fixing the food culture in our schools. And I would recommend it to every parent, teacher, principal, et al.

Please join me in the conversation about Lunch Wars and the state of school lunch programs in general at the BlogHer Book Club site.

Disclosure: This was a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are my own.

Some people talk about ya
Like they know all about ya
When you get down they doubt ya
And when you tippin on the scene
Yeah they talkin’ bout it
Cause they can’t tip all on the scene with ya
Talk about it
T-t-t-talk bout it
When you get elevated,
They love it or they hate it
You dance up on them haters
Keep getting funky on the scene
While they jumpin’ round ya
They trying to take all your dreams
But you can’t allow it

Then baby whether I’m high or low
Baby whether you’re high or low
You gotta tip on the tightrope
Yeah, tip on the tightrope
Baby, baby, baby
Whether you’re high or low
Baby whether you’re high or low
Tip on the tightrope
Baby let me see you tight rope
And I’m still tippin’ on it

- Janelle Monae

First, there was the Nation’s Triathlon.

As you know, the swim was cancelled. The bike ride was amazing! I rode the 25 miles to Maryland and back in 1:24:22. I felt like a million bucks during the ride. The start was tough-going. Stiff legs. But once I got to the turn-around, I found myself nicely surprised, thinking, “this is it?”

The run sucked. I can’t even call it a run. I walked. I walked the 6.3 miles in 1:25:35. Geez. I hate having to write that for all the world to see.

But I finished. And for me? That was good enough.

Then there was the ice bath.

And the Westin La Cantera Resort‘s Wine Event. Did I mention that Texas Hill Country is the new black, in terms of wine country?

And then there was the failed biopsy. For which I have no image.
Followed by the finding of a grey eye-brow hair. A GREY EYE-BROW HAIR!

Finally, there was the trip to California where I visited my old childhood home (which now looks condemned & slated for demolition)…

and where I hiked up a 5.8 mile, 1950′ elevation gain from Yosemite Valley to a little beyond the top of Nevada Falls and back.

During our descent, the partly cloudy skies quickly turned angry, thunder and lightning filled the sky. We picked up our pace down the mountain while rain began to pelt down. It was kind of fun. Juniper sang the “It’s raining, it’s pouring…” song.

So we’re going about our merry little descent when suddenly we’re overtaken by hail.

HAIL!
(People. I cannot even begin to make this shit up!)

Then. We returned to our campsite where our waterproof tent was found to be not so much waterproof.
And we did the only thing that we could do at the time…

We drove over to the lodge and got the maid to open what we thought was our parent’s room to take a nice warm shower. We drank hot chocolate and ate yummy Tomato Basil soup.

It wasn’t until hours later when we realized that the room we so comfortably took over was not our parent’s room at all, but the room next door.
I’m sure the actual guests will appreciate the wet towels placed gingerly in the corner of the bathroom, but most especially the “I love you Gigi & Sire” note that Juniper left on their night stand.

No need to wine me or dine me. just Invisalign me!

When I was a kid, I wanted braces so bad that I’d unbend a paper clip, reshape it to fit around my teeth, and walk around as if I actually did wear braces. And I thought I was so cool.

Fast forward to high school.

My parents are shelling out mega bucks on straightening out my sisters teeth, but they forget about me. I am the one who doesn’t need braces. Who’s teeth are “straight enough.”

But secretly, and desperately… I. Wanted. Straighter. Teeth. [stomp. stomp.]

I wanted to be the Murray girl with the 1000-watt smile.

Fast forward to the year 2000. I’m looking at a picture that my (then) boyfriend (now husband) took of me when he whisked me off to Callaway Gardens. I’m standing in front of the Ida Cason Calloway Memorial Chapel, posing with confidence (secretly dreaming of getting married here, to this man taking my picture), but instead of loving this picture and the wonderful feelings that it should be conjuring up, I’m staring at my tooth. The one that is sticking out, just enough to make me feel ugly.

Don’t get me wrong. I have great teeth. But . . .

If I had a fairy godmother or a magic genie or … a sugar daddy, my one wish would be for Invisalign so that I can finally have the smile that I’ve dreamed of.

Seriously.

Ten years ago, it would’ve been boobs.

But that was then, and this is now. Teeth trump cleavage.

Read the rest of this entry »

sex: much was had this Labor Day weekend – and it wasn’t in the least bit perfunctory. at all. [wink] we were trying our darndest to make numero dos!

lies: i am not in the least bit intoxicated while writing this post. at all.

video tape: (no, it’s not of us trying to make numero dos, you weirdos…) it’s footage from the vault – the catalyst of the whole making numero dos shindig ….

baby butt cheeks from kim murray mcdonald on Vimeo.

I just picked up my tri suit.

In just 4 days, on the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I will be competing in the Nation’s Triathlon in D.C.! I will be swimming 1.5K, biking 40K and running 10K in honor of my girl and survivor, Mikayla Burnett and in memory of my friend Mike Akos.

And I could never have made it this far with out a little help from my friends: Brenda Burmeister, Mona Turner, Sarah Minor-Massey, Jeremy James, Robin Murray, Colleen Murray, Kathleen & James Murray, Jack Perry, Yasmeen Soin, Michael Seider, David Myhre, Molly Loxsom, Dileep Ravi, Emily Stringer, Karla Avecillas, Karen Feagins, Jen & Marion Powell, Amanda Mayo, Marie & Jim Adams, Patty Brown, Tim Beckner, Nicole Drane, Colleen Pence, Daniel Thimann, Rae Sibley, Loreen Wong, Fred Norris, Giovanna Corrola, Tona Soporano, Anne Morrighan, Lina George, Marianno Smith, Seth & Molly Peets, Pat & Peggy McDonald, Lynn Utley, Sarah Vernetti, Melanie Melendez-Gonzales, Laura Lorek, and James & Karrn Bales.

I’d also like to thank The Gap & The Tejas Rodeo Company as well as The Westin La Cantera Resort, The San Antonio Children’s Museum, The San Antonio Museum of Art, Whole Earth Provisions, Studio A Pilates and Sea World Texas in San Antonio.

Last, but certainly not least, I’d like to thank all of my teammates. Especially Eric & Mary Kay Cooper, Katy Davis, Mikayla Burnett, Mauro Vela, JP Villa, Bonnie Dillon, Stacy Rae Berkheimer, Beth Bishop Loftis, Anid Kalifa, Deanna Gates, Jen & Marcus Whitehead, Shannon Albrecht-Realtor, Mona Turner, Lucie Frost, Drew & Karla Dodson, Robert Vasquez, Joy Hutcherson Tintes, Monique Cahill, Sylvia Creil, Nanette Pesina,  Edith Melendez and you, Marion Mulligan-Tyler, (coach-coach) for your patience & wisdom.

This mutha is ready to go!

This is an image representation of my web identity. To decipher this image, click here. You can make your very own web identity collage, too!

I can’t decide whether to title this post, My First Bee Sting Ever or My Mustached Lady Part… or In Which I Showcase My Derriere to the Entire Universe.

Which title do you like?

Do you guys remember that one Girl Scout song?

Make new friends,
but keep the old.
One is silver
and the other’s gold.

It popped into my little brain the other day when I finally replaced my favorite pair of shoes.

Gold: 10 year-old pair of Papillio Tabora Sandals (Nubuck)

Silver: Brand-spankin' new pair of Paillio Tabora Sandals (silver)

Remember how I used to style a whole bunch of dummies for Miranda Priestly’s evil twin sister? Well. Guess what? I get to re-live my fashionista hey-day as a contributor on BlogHer’s Life Well Lived Panel! (Just look at my shiny new bling over there in the right sidebar).

The Life Well Lived section is a recent new addition to BlogHer.com. It’s a place where some pretty savvy women lead a Q & A styled blog on… well. Living life well, really – with articles focused on getting to your happy, getting organized and looking your best.

This week’s question focused on beauty and I was thrilled to dip into my cosmetic experience to have supplied an idea that was used in the article.

Q: “It’s the end of the day and you’re rushing to get ready for an evening out. How do you create a nighttime look in just a few minutes?”

A: I put my lipstick for double-duty beauty. I not only apply it to my lips, but also my cheeks as a cream blush.

I invite you all, my friends, to join the in conversation! How do you create a nighttime look in just a few minutes? What’s you’re go-to shortcut for looking fab? I’d love to hear what you have to say – here or on the Life Well Lived post. While you’re there, be sure to enter the Life Well Lived Moments $250 Sweepstakes.

This weekend Tim and I spent a good part of our day cleaning our beloved Bertha, the 1995 Ford Bronco that’s been with us since day one of our days together. Tim’s had her since, I dunno… forever? She’s been through a lot. And when I say a lot, I mean a lot… of girlfriends. (HAH! Did I say that out loud?) I joke. But seriously. We found an old, tangled-up gold necklace in the depths of Bertha’s innards. Something I would never wear. But I digress.

As we were cleaning her out & re-living the past 12 years of our relationship through found old love notes, cd’s, trail maps from our honeymoon and even a picture of what Dave & Buster’s Gene Machine thought our love-child would look like (thank the Lord they were wrong, right? I mean. No offense to whomever’s little girl that really is.) we came across an old roll of 35mm film!

We were both very much hoping that it would contain the long-lost pictures of our engagement, so we excitedly drove to Ritz Camera and had them developed immediately.

The treasure that was on that roll was, unfortunately not our long-lost pictures of our engagement…
but proof!

Proof that this 34-year-old mama was once fearless.

FEAR. LESS.

Overheard while in the deep-deep (Juniper’s name for the deep-end) at the Trinity University Pool this weekend…

College-aged boy #1: “I’ve gotta go to a wedding after this.”

Middle-aged woman: “You’ve got plenty of time. You can air dry and still make it.”

College-aged boy #2: “Who’s wedding you going to?”

College-aged boy #1: “This girl’s. She’s getting married to get her social security card. [beat] So. She’s gonna get all beat up and shit. But at least she’ll have her social security card.”

Week 10 already!

Last weekend we all participated in the Tri Pearl, a sprint triathlon that finished at the historic Pearl Brewery. It was a lot of fun!

The Tri Pearl is the first urban race of its kind in downtown San Antonio. It consisted of a 400 meter swim, a 17 mile bike (chock-full of tight, downhill turns and speed bumps. millions of them), and a 3.3 mile run.

And I finished with a smile!

Looking back on the event, I am a little disappointed that I didn’t push myself a little harder (like, I probably should’ve pushed myself to actually run the two miles that I decided to walk), but overall, I’m very proud of this accomplishment.

***

This past Saturday we all drove up to Boerne Lake, Texas for our very first open-water swim.

We started the early morning with a 2 mile warm-up run. Then I biked 32 of the planned 37 mile bike ride through Texas hill country, when dizziness & mild heat stroke set in. I had to call for a pick-up. Not the highlight of my training. At all. I’m still slightly embarrassed about this. ALL of my teammates rode the complete 37. I am the only wimp in the group. MAJOR FAIL.

As the truck I was riding in pulled into the parking lot, the rest of the team was just getting back from their second 2 mile run and were getting into their swim gear.

So I swallowed the complete loser feeling I was feeling & joined them.

The water out at Boerne Lake felt great! Refreshing.

The kayak went out a small distance and I was all, “okay, this won’t be so bad.”

Then. We started swimming.

It was very claustrophobic-like. We were like a school of fish, flopping around, over & on top of each other trying to get to the metaphorical piece of cracker that the giants threw into our pond.

To top it all off, get this…
Lake water is not crystal-clear like pool water is. So I’m basically swimming blind.

The good news is we all make it back to shore alive. Then, coach has the kayak go out a bit further. Quite a distance, actually, but nothing in comparison to the 1500 meters that I’ll be expected to swim in a month’s time.

I’m not gonna lie. It was hard.

The sensation of waves and current, blindness and not knowing where the hell I’m swimming was fairly frustrating. I certainly swam at least the distance + just because of all the zig zags I made.

The good news here, again, is that we all survived. The bad news? This whole open-water gig is going to be another challenging hurdle to jump.

***

Have I told you why I’m doing all this? I’m trying to fund a cure for cancer. You can help me out here and/or if you live in San Antonio, here.

xo

A few miles north of San Antonio’s River Walk, The Westin La Cantera Resort is a luxurious world unto itself, complete with a mile-long nature trail designed to introduce the visitor to the natural wonders of the Texas Hill Country. Built on one of the highest points in San Antonio, La Cantera also offers grand views of downtown and the surrounding countryside.

photo credit: westinlacantera.com

The resort caters to the outdoorsy guest on a number of levels, from its Golf Academy and par-72 Resort Course (home of the PGA Tour’s Valero Texas Open) to its nature trails through the Hill Country. For the younger set, the Westin Kids Club provides a chance to interact with wildlife—including a sloth—through its Zoomagination program.

photo credit: Sarah Vernetti at wanderingoff.com

La Cantera’s connection with the natural world is reflected in the menus in its Francesca’s at Sunset restaurant. The resort espouses a “farm to table” philosophy which emphasizes the use of Texas products—-including phenomenal Hill Country wines.

Thanks to its location at the gateway to the Texas Hill Country, the Westin La Cantera is an ideal departure point for a day trip to the little towns that make up the Texas Wine Trail. Did you know? Orbitz Travel voted the Texas Hill Country as the number two fastest growing wine destination in the U.S., second only to Napa. Even better, Away.com listed the Texas Hill country first in their list of Top 10 “Hidden-Gem” wine regions!

photo credit: westinlacantera.com

This is part 2 of a 2-part series on The Westin La Cantera.

• 8/2       The Westin La Cantera: not just for tourists
• 8/9       The Westin La Cantera: a nature lover’s retreat

{Disclosure: As a Westin La Cantera Family Blogger, I received a complimentary 2-night stay, spa services, food & beverage. The compensation received will never influence the content, topics or posts made in this blog. For my full disclosure policy, click here.}

Want your very own Legendary Summer 2-night Getaway at The Westin La Cantera Resort, plus 4 tickets to Six Flags Fiesta Texas and 2 complimentary drinks at The Gantry?

(today is the last day to enter!)

Simply “Like” The Westin La Cantera Resort on Facebook and fill out the entry form. That’s it. Easy-peasy!

Let me let you in on a little secret…

The Westin La Cantera loves locals.

Most San Antonians are fairly familiar with The Westin La Cantera; that gleaming white expanse of architecture, a beacon that sits atop the gateway to Texas hill country — a modern day tourist’s Parthenon — but are completely unaware of the treasure that awaits inside (even for locals).

Did you know that many of the events that are held at the Westin La Cantera are open to the public (meaning, you don’t have to be a guest at the resort)?

My favorite activity that’s open to the public?

The Texas Wine Tasting.

Find out why Texas is among the top 5 of U.S. wine producing states. Sommelier Steven Krueger will wine you & dine you on the many outstanding Texas wines that are competing against the best in the world, paired with various cheeses, fruits & carbs. A couple of my favorites include the Viognier from the McPherson Cellars and “Cornelious”, the Tempranillo from Inwood Estates. The tasting is hosted daily from 5-6pm  in the newly renovated Steinheimer’s Lounge. As the story goes, the bar’s namesake, Karl Steinheimer, started out as a pirate then became a miner and struck gold in Mexico. Legend has it that he buried his treasure right here in Texas Hill Country. There’s even a map to the buried treasure painted on the ceiling.

Another fave?

Dining at Francesca’s at Sunset.

Chef Ernie Estrada will treat your taste buds to a symphony of Texas flavor. The resort’s fine dining experience redirected its cuisine to focus on South Texas creations with a Southwestern flair. The new “farm-to-table” menu features locally and naturally nurtured produce resulting in seasonal, fresh fare. More than 80% of its food are from South Texas farmers and ranchers. And as you know, the resort sommelier, Steven Krueger adds to the Texas supported dining experience by featuring eight Texas vintners on his wine list.

photo credit: westinlacantera.com

This is part 1 of a 2-part series on The Westin La Cantera. I hope that you’ll join me next Tuesdays in August for a glimpse of this true gem of an escape.

• 8/2       The Westin La Cantera: not just for tourists
• 8/9       The Westin La Cantera: a nature lover’s retreat

{Disclosure: As a Westin La Cantera Family Blogger, I received a complimentary 2-night stay, spa services, food & beverage. The compensation received will never influence the content, topics or posts made in this blog. For my full disclosure policy, click here.}

Want your very own Legendary Summer 2-night Getaway at The Westin La Cantera Resort, plus 4 tickets to Six Flags Fiesta Texas and 2 complimentary drinks at The Gantry?

Simply “Like” The Westin La Cantera Resort on Facebook and fill out the entry form. That’s it. Easy-peasy!

In an effort to be more like my mother and save a whole bunch of random junk in the off chance that one day I’d use them again green, I found a great piece of trash that could’ve been just one more article of waste piled up in our never-ending, mountainous land-fills… and, get this, y’all…

I saved it!

I saved it from the eternal damnation of non-biodegradable diaper hell.

And it miraculously reincarnated itself into the form of a thing-a-ma-jig tray. It is now living its second life on my grandfather’s hand-me-down vintage dresser that is sitting mighty handsomely in my bedroom love den. [meow]

Want your very own thing-a-ma-jig tray?

Materials Needed:
1 junky wooden box (this is how I obtained mine)
1 can of spray paint (you can pick any color you like!)

Directions:
spray paint the junky wooden box.
preferably outdoors, in the grass somewhere so as not to make yellow marking all over your husband’s brand-spankin’-newly-poured drive-way.

I found a little treat for all you back-to-school shoppers. The PlanetBox. My daughter has been carrying this lunch box for a little over a year now – she loves it! We both do. She loves it because she likes all of her food cut-up and separated. And I love it because it makes it so easy to create fun, healthful lunches and it’s eco-friendly.

The Planetbox is slightly on the pricier side, but well worth the investment. It includes the ultra cute carry bag that has two outer pockets and a mesh inside sleeve. Two stainless steel tins also accompany your purchase. And you can decorate your Planetbox with some really cute magnets.

One of the best vacations I ever had lasted just two days and was spent in a local resort just thirty minutes from the house.

Seriously.

Some times we all just need a short little get-a-way, right? Nothing big like a real vacation, but something that let’s us feel like we’ve escaped the Mount Everest of laundry or the calendar of screaming deadlines. Some times we just need to unplug, slow down, breathe. Even if it’s for just two days.

I found my respite at the Westin La Cantera.

What I experienced is beyond what words can describe. The Westin La Cantera is quite simply an experience.
The resort did not miss a beat – from its nightly turn down service, to its amazingly friendly staff, to its making my daughter feel like a million bucks…

…the attention to detail was astounding!

There are several things that I fell in love with at the resort. And in an effort to be fair on all accounts, I cannot write an entire single post with all that I have to say… So I’ve designed a series of posts. I hope that you’ll join me for the first couple of Tuesdays in August for a glimpse of this true gem of an escape.

• 8/2       The Westin La Cantera: not just for tourists
• 8/9       The Westin La Cantera: a nature lover’s retreat

{Disclosure: As a Westin La Cantera Family Blogger, I received a complimentary 2-night stay, spa services, food & beverage. The compensation received will never influence the content, topics or posts made in this blog. For my full disclosure policy, click here.}

I found this amazing harvest of figs growing in my back yard and didn’t know what to do with them until I remembered this amazing recipe for pizza that I learned on some in-flight t.v. channel years ago. It turned out to be so delish, I thought I’d share – as all great things, especially great food, should be! The link in the first sentence is to the original recipe and the recipe below is the one I kinda threw together from memory. Both are equally scrumptious.

(photo credit: Gourmet magazine, June 2008)

Ingredients

6 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 1/4 lb onions (2 large), halved lengthwise and thinly sliced
14 to 16 oz pizza dough, thawed if frozen
1/4 lb Gorgonzola dolce, crumbled (1 cup)
1/4 lb thick-cut bacon, crisply cooked & crumbled
3-5 figs; rinsed & quartered
1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
Preparation

Heat 1/4 cup oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet over medium-low heat until it shimmers, then cook onions with 1/2 tsp salt and 1/4 tsp pepper, covered, stirring occasionally, until golden, 15 to 20 minutes. Transfer to a small bowl and keep warm, covered.

Prepare a grill for direct-heat cooking over low charcoal (medium heat for gas).

Stretch dough into a roughly 12- by 10-inch rectangle on a large baking sheet and brush with 1 Tbsp oil.

Bring dough, onions, bacon, figs, cheese, parsley, and remaining Tbsp oil to grill area.

Oil grill rack, then put dough, oiled side down, on grill and brush top with remaining Tbsp oil. Grill, covered, until underside is golden brown, 1 1/2 to 3 minutes.

Using tongs, return crust to baking sheet, turning crust over (grilled side up). Sprinkle evenly with onions, bacon, figs, cheese, and parsley. Slide pizza from sheet onto grill and grill, covered, until underside is golden brown and cheese is partially melted, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a cutting board and cut into pieces.

*cook’s note: feel free to play with the recipe. the second time we made it, instead of carmelized onions, we used grilled purple onions. finally, if you’re not going to use a store-bought dough, and opt to make your own, fantastic! However, you’ll need to use foil on the grill as the dough will be too soft & fall through the grate.

I tooted at practice the other night.

And it wasn’t one of those cute little, whoopsie-me-I-made-a-toot-s, it was big.
HUGE even.
And loud. Like a Carnival cruise ship pulling out of port.

FAAAAAARRRRRRRRRTT!
AAAARRRT.
AART.

(so not even kidding here).

See, that’s yet another reason why training with Team In Training is so great – these people who are crazy enough to actually do the things that y’all are doing together? They don’t care if you toot. (Or if you FART!) In fact, they’re totally down with the fart. “Don’t worry, it’s just natural,” they assure me as I hide the pink of my embarrassed cheeks. I digress.

Why am I bringing this up now?

Because practice was so-O painful for me today! And it wasn’t solely from the exercise, but more so from the holding in of bodily functions.

I held a pee and a fart in for 90 minutes. 1150 meters.

Here are the things I realized on the drive home from swim practice:

You can’t pee in the pool when you’re with 20 other strangers. At home, no big deal. It’s just your husband, your mother-in-law, that weird neighbor that   keeps coming over uninvited… but when you’re in a public pool, with strangers… actually swimming (as opposed to goofing around)… It’s just weird.

I mean, first of all, it’s gross.
But more so, it makes you feel vulnerable. Like, in the people can see you peeing kind of way.
(not that I even thought for one iota about peeing in that pool).

The other thing?

You can’t fart in the pool. At. All.
It’s just way too obvious. Period.

So, my point(s)? And let this be a lesson to all y’all…
1) Train with Team In Training.
2) Don’t pee in the pool.
3) Don’t fart in the pool.
4) The Lord loves a workin’ man.
5) Don’t trust whitey.
6) See a doctor and get rid of it.

***P.S. Have y’all helped me find a cure for blood cancers yet? [wink]

It’s been awhile since my last post. With as much training that I try to cram into my already busy schedule, there are times when I find myself almost in a whirlwind of chaos. It’s time to invest in a really good organizer or calendar or … hire an assistant. [wink]

So training’s been great! Hard. But GREAT!

I am really enjoying myself. With Tim’s residency schedule it’s hard to make it to a lot of the team practices, but when I do, I have the best time! I mean we work hard and all, but there’s something about training with a team… I love it! It makes it 100 times more fun and bearable… not to mention DO-able.

For instance, I was able to join the team on a Saturday ride. We ended up riding 21 miles. There’s no way in hell that I’d just up and ride for 21 miles on my own. But with the team, I didn’t even realize the miles that we were logging.

Well.

That’s probably a bad example because I am totally sugar-coating and exaggerating about the 21 mile ride. In truth, my brakes were malfunctioning. Not like they weren’t stopping me, but more like they were always clamped on the wheel (which is so incredibly worse than not being able to stop; I’m just saying).

I was riding the brakes My. Entire. Ride!

Owie.

Typically, rookie riders will complain of one type of owie… the bruising that occurs on one’s delicate flower region. But this rookie? I had spaghetti legs for like two days – didn’t even notice that my girl parts were aching (again with the exaggerating, but you get the picture).

So about the team training making time feel as if it flies by. It’s the truth, despite my lack of good example.

Trust.

***** Did I mention that I’m training with Team In Training? And that I’m also trying to raise $3500 to help find a cure for blood cancers? AND THAT I NEED YOUR HELP? And that you can do so by clicking here