New Year's Revolution

I hate New Year's Eve. I have for as long as I can remember. This decade has been littered with some pretty abysmal New Year's Eves, with one exception, ringing in 2008 was outstanding. I often wonder why that year out of all the years was so amazing. Sure, I was surrounded by great friends, listening to great music but most New Year's are made up of similar components. In fact, I can't recall any where I have not been with friends. Some have been worse than others, 2006 comes to mind, but most have been consistently disappointing.

I often think about why this is and have come up with only one conclusion: expectations. New Year's Eve, like your birthday, is supposed to be a good time. You are excepted to have fun. You are required to have a good time. You will take ridiculous picture that you will later post on Facebook as proof of said good time. You will kiss your significant other/friend/random stranger on midnight and later stumble to bed thinking "this year is going to be so amazing because I just had the greatest night of my life". This is never really how it goes. With such expectations you will almost certainly always be let down.

So what was 2008's secret? No expectations. Honestly, I had none. There was no boy I was secretly hoping to kiss at midnight, there was no preconceived notion of how the night would go. It was just me, good friends, Roger Clyne and lots of dancing. I had a smile on my face and a full heart. I was hopeful.

This year's solution then? No expectations. Come what may. I will not anticipate a good time because that is what the laws of social norm dictate. I will revolutionize my own thinking.

Maybe Harry Was Right

When I was in high school and college my favorite movie was When Harry Met Sally. In fact, it's still top three for me. Admittedly, it's no Annie Hall, but there's something about the combination of Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan. His quirkiness and her ridiculousness were cinematic genius as far as I was concerned. The final scene is so over the top romantic comedy clique, but even at my most cynical it still got me. Every time.

But there was always one thing about the movie that drove me crazy. Harry is so insistent that men and women can't truly be friends. As a guy's girl I found this to be a complete fallacy. I had plenty of guy friends. I always had. I was that girl; just one of the guys. This stayed true through college, but I slowly began to see a shift as I got older. Somewhere between high school and college I had become more attractive to guys and the friendships didn't seem quite as strong. Sure we were friends but that didn't mean things couldn't change after a few beers. After my college relationship ended I maintained very few of those friendships. Out of college and in the "real world" it became more difficult to make guy friends. There was no click anymore and was no inheriting guy friends from a boyfriend. I had to do it on my own and it wasn't easy.

In total I think I've made maybe 6 guy friends since college (I'm excluding boyfriends of friends), 2 of whom are gay and 2 of whom I rarely speak to anymore. It is simply more complicated as you get older because something always seems to get in the way, either a girlfriend or emotions or unclear intentions. I find myself taking an extended pause when thinking about guy friends. It may not be that I am attracted or interested in them now, but I find myself thinking, "should I be?". Meeting a quality guy is no easy task, and so it often seems easier to simply change affections towards a friend.

But then there's the age old cliche, it will ruin the friendship. Really? Will it? If you're both honest aren't you just waiting until that night when you have one too many beers and....oops? Chances are at least one of you is. I hate to admit it, but all those arguments I had with my college roommate on this subject matter were in vein. I was wrong. I am not longer convinced that guys and girls genuinely can be friends...unless they've known each other for years, but maybe not even then. Dang it, I hate being wrong.

Closure is a Fictional Concept

When I was younger and not nearly as wise as I am today I was convinced that anything could be solved by talking. I wanted to talk issues/dramatic situations to death. I needed to get all my emotions out there. I had an open heart and I let everyone know it. I gave my heart away for free. But hearts get broken and callused. I am not a cynical person (anymore), but at 26 I am at the opposite end of the spectrum than I was at when I was 21.

I no longer feel the need to talk much about anything. I am more convinced now that most discussions aren't really worth having. I have to care quite deeply about the other person to enter into any kind of meaningful discussion on the state of said relationship these days. I have learned that so many words are better left unsaid. I am a very talkative, outgoing person, but I keep myself pretty quiet when it comes to matters of the heart. To take a line from Billy Joel, "my silence is my self-defense".

But self-preservation mode has not always served me well. My silence has also caused me to leave many issues unresolved and probably too many words unsaid. There are many circumstances where I walked away without any words, without any closure.

However, I have learned recently that perhaps closure doesn't exist. Words that went unsaid years ago just hang between two people like an electric current waiting for a touch to send out a shock. They do not offer any kind of closure whatsoever. They serve only to open wounds and create chaos in what had become a settled life.

Yet, there must be some middle ground between walking away wordless and this mythical creature they call closure. My guess is that it can only be found by finding the precarious balance between silence and over-analysis. As much as I have learned and grown over the past 5 years, I clearly have so much left to learn. I clearly have to find a way to start using my words again.

Whenever I Miss Phoenix

I go here http://francesblog.tumblr.com/.

If you live in Phoenix you should definitely check out Frances. It's by far one of the best things the city has to offer.

Elliptical Economic Brainstorm

I know it's early but I have been contemplating 2010's New Year's resolution quite intensely as of late. I'm not really a New Year's resolution maker, but I figured I'd give it a go next year since I have yet to find a better way to get my finances in order. It seems that recently I have been doing my best brainstorming on how to do so on the elliptical machine at my gym. It's strange because most of the time I do my best thinking on the toilet. I kid, I kid. Seriously, lighten up.

Sorry, I digress. To the point.

I have come up with several ideas and one important plan for staying inspired.

There are a two things that might seem frivolous to others that at this point I'm not willing to give up: my gym membership and cable. Justification? Well, there's no way I'd stay motivated to stay in shape without a gym and it also gives me a chance to get out of the apartment without spending a great deal of money. Going to the gym a minimum of 5 times a week costs me a grand total of $1.50 each time I go. I think that's reasonable. And as far as cable goes, frankly, I just like to be able to watch TV.

So, how exactly will I be saving money? Thus far here's what I've come up with:

1. Straight up stop using my credit cards. They're what is ruining my life. This is the first step, but will definitely be the most difficult to master. Hopefully the following will help.
2. Less trips to the grocery store and Target. I need to learn that I don't have to buy more of something until I am out of it, including food. I'll have a fridge half full and yet buy more because I don't feel like eating what I have already. I'm wasting money left and right by letting food go bad or just buying things I don't need. And I think we all know my weakness for Target. I'm absolutely going to have to go back to list only shopping.
3. Cut out the extras. I've already given up Starbucks but there are plenty of other frills that could go. Aside from shopping for clothes I don't need, I could also cut back on gifts (not stop giving them but stop giving expensive ones), make up (Sephora can no longer be my friend), things for my apartment (I really have everything I need), gas (I'm not sure about this one, but perhaps I could be riding my bike more - except maybe not until after winter) and there will undoubtedly be more to come.
4. For those of you who have enjoyed my previous blogs about fashion, keep your eye's peeled for the "No Re-wear Challenge". It's gonna be good.


Ok, it's a short list so far, but I know it will get longer.

How do I plan on sticking to it? It's simple, apply the same determination and discipline I put towards working out and being healthy to saving money. I am extremely proud of how well I've been able to stay in shape and stick to a routine, so in theory I should also be able to have a sense of pride about saving money. Well, here's hoping!

Portland Gym Culture

As an avid people watcher, I find the gym to be a pretty entertaining place. If you're really paying attention there is almost always something comical going on. In Arizona my gym was filled with ASU sorostitutes, douche bags and wanna-be muscle men. People were constantly on their phones and checking themselves out to make sure they were looking good in their name brand work out gear and baseball hats. It was utterly ridiculous. The gym was clearly someplace to be seen and I hadn't gotten the memo.

Such is not the case here in Portland. Instead the gym is filled with hippies, hipsters and relatively normal folks. My personal favorite it still the hipster girl on the eliptical in her skinny jeans and v-neck. But a close second is the long-haired ginger hippie in his Thai fisherman pants. I'm constantly surprised at the people that show up. Many of whom are wearing the trainers they probably wore to 5th grade gym class. This is not a judgement, but an interested statement. People here apparently go to the gym to work out. Crazy! They don't seem nearly as concerned with how they appear to their fellow gym goer and they get their stuff done.

Clearly a testament to the differences between people in Arizona and Portland. Clearly a little less entertaining.

The Art of Brunching

I love me some brunch. I love breakfast, I love lunch. I love the combination of the two because you can sleep in late but still have breakfast and a bloody mary.

For those of you who are not as enamored with this amazing meal option, let me fill you in a little bit on it's benefits (other than getting to sleep late and still get breakfast). In my mind there are two kinds of brunches. There's the nice brunch that you might have with your parents or on a weekday. This kind of brunch is usually at some place nice. Some place where you can expect to pay as much for brunch as you would for dinner. It involves a nice latte or some orange juice (maybe a mimosa if your parents are liberal) along with your pancakes. You would generally shower before this brunch and make yourself presentable. You'd probably even slap on some make-up.

The other kind of brunch is where you're gonna get some more bang for your buck; it's the hungover brunch. Now this kind of brunch is the one you have with friends (quite possibly the ones that woke up on your couch that morning). There's no need for dressing up and you're probably not gonna shower either. However, you might want to consider some make-up to go along with what's already left on your face. Seeing as though you were over served the night before you probably want to consider a bloody mary and something greasy. My personal favorite? The Brewer's Breakfast at Four Peaks. Marvelous.

I miss brunching. I can hardly remember the last time I was able to brunch and I long for the day when I will be able to brunch at Four Peaks again.

It's Always Harder Than You Remember

I have lived in 3 countries, 5 states and 10 cities in my 26 years. I have moved 7 times (just between cities, not houses) in the past 8 years. This means I've had to make new friends 7 times. Yet, somehow every time seems to feel like the first time. You conveniently forget the process of making friends when you leave one city. All you think about is how much you'll miss the friends you are leaving, but that you will undoubtedly make friends in your new city. You will, but not the day you move there. It's easy to have selective memory when it comes to this all important aspect of relocating.

And somehow it only seems to get more complicated when you get older. Frankly, I love the friends that I have a am convinced that I have more than enough of them. However, only 2 of them live in my current location and as a social butterfly this is not nearly enough. Dilemma. Further complicating this current issue is that in my old age (ha!) I have definitely become far more discerning when it comes to forming friendship. I no longer feel the need to bond with the first person that appears to share a similar interest and hope that it works out. It rarely does, which I have learned the hard way one too many times.

So I struggle and simultaneously try to convince any friend with a slight interest to move to Portland. I busy myself with the hours of reading assigned to me each week and half-heartedly search for a job. I countdown to my boy bestie's visit and look forward to the holidays with an enthusiasm I haven't had since childhood. I reflect on how I am in the exact opposite situation I was in in Phoenix; I'm now in a city I love but have very few people to share it with.

Please, don't misunderstand me; I'm not sad or even lonely. I'm taking time to contemplate and focus.

Thanks, Dad.

Yesterday I spent two painstaking hours at Ikea agonizing over what furniture to purchase to furnish my first (very, very first) apartment on my own. A few years ago I would have bought whatever was cheapest and called it a day. But now I'm in my mid-twenties and have to take several things into consideration that I didn't when I was in college. First, I don't want my apartment to look like a college kid's; full of hand-me-downs and cheap Ikea crap. Second, there's no one giving me hand-me-downs anymore so these purchases have to last me several years. Third, I'd like my living space to look cohesive. I think I accomplished that. I left Ikea exhausted, but proud with visions of an adorable, urban studio floating in my head.

Today my new furniture arrived and the reality of making Ikea purchases sunk it; you have to assemble it all with the crazy tools and supplies they provide. I started to get nervous, what if I screwed up my new furniture and wasted my time and money on things I couldn't even use? My nervousness quickly faded when I remembered that I was fully capable of accomplishing this task. Thanks to lots of practical advice from dear old Dad over the years, I am actually pretty handy (if I do say so myself). I often pretend not to be or forget that I am until faced with a challenge. I know my way around a tool box and even have a few tools of my own that I like to keep around. Luckily, my dad also taught me to read directions first (I know, strange for a man), which is key when assembling Ikea products.

It took several hours, but I totally handled that futon, desk and kitchen table. In fact, I felt so confident that I even hung a few pictures. Afterwards I admired my handy work and attempted to take a nap on my new futon because dang was I tired. Seriously, assembling and moving all that furniture can really take it out of ya.

**My apologies for not having pictures of said furniture, but I can't find the cord for my camera. I appreciate your patience and will have pictures up soon.

Heartache By Proxy

The better part of my life I have suffered from sympathy pains. Someone talks about having a headache and suddenly I have one. When I was 10 and went to summer camp with a friend and she got sick (homesick really), I got sick too. But where this is most evident is when it comes to friends or family going through heartbreak.

Now I"ll be honest, this could be because I'm still slightly biased against love, but I don't really think that is the whole story. My heart genuinely aches when I hear about relationships breaking up, especially when it was long term. I suddenly find myself in the mind of the heartbroken and without warning I'm feeling nauseous and forlorn. My stomach is uneasy for days and I don't sleep well. I imagine how that person must be feeling. I begin to feel like I am experiencing their loneliness and fear as they try to figure out where to go from here; how they will put their life back together. I fight back tears thinking about it on my own. In some extreme cases I have cried outright. I can't help it. I wish I could. I'm sure this can't be a healthy habit.

When it comes right down to it, if I'm brutally honest, I'm not sure that it is me actually experiencing their pain or if it is me simply mourning the loss of love. Deep down, I truly want to believe that love does exist and every time a seemingly loving relationship breaks up so does my hope for love. It seems as though the universe anticipates when I'm almost ready to open up my own heart and it busts up someone else's just to keep me in my place. Just to keep me on the wrong side of optimism.

Revelation Revisited

I wrote a few months ago about how terrible I am with money and how I was going to make my own personal budget cuts. And I did. And it worked. For a little while. I quickly went back to my old spending habits, much to my own detriment. Now, being unemployed for the last few months and trying to find an apartment and job it has really hit home how much I suck with money. I have a closet (well, now several plastic bins) full of lovely clothes and shoes, but really all those have gotten me are huge credit card bills. It hit me like a ton of bricks today while talking to my mum that if I don't start getting my shit together I will spend the rest of my life in debt. I live way outside of my means. I shop as if it were my job, and I can't even justify it by saying I'm a particularly thrifty shopper. I love to spend money, so I spend money I don't have.

How did this revelation suddenly revisit me? I want to live in a nice apartment, in a nice part of the city. Nice apartments in nice parts of the city cost money and landlords want to know that you can pay. For my own sanity and satisfaction I am not very willing to compromise my nice apartment, which means that something has to give.

So, my friends, what does this mean for me? It means no more store credit cards. I am about $80 away from having my store cards paid off and then they will be ceremoniously cut up and discarded. Actually, I only have two, but that is not the point. Then we tackle the biggins, the "regular" credit cards. I don't really want to get into specific here, but there are 3 and their balances are rather sizable. The plan is to get down to one with a small balance. I know I shouldn't have any balance at all, but that just isn't realistic right now.

How do I accomplish this? I'm not entirely sure of my plan of action, but I know it involves getting a job as soon as I can after my apartment and saving this shit out of the money I make there. My student loans should be enough to pay rent and bills, so any money I make at a job will need to go towards paying off my debts. This obviously also means an end to the era of "shop like there's no tomorrow". It means only buying things that are necessities. It means a more strict definition of what a necessity is. It means starting to be a grown up.

Stay tuned.

Turn and Face the Strange Ch-Cha-Changes

Leaving my Grandma's house two weeks ago David Bowie's Changes happened to be playing on the only station in the La Crosse area I can stand to listen to. I found it extremely apropos and when I heard it again today it got me to thinking about what a different direction I have decided to go.

A year ago I was searching for a job I didn't want to stay in a city I didn't like. I was mourning (again) the loss of my life in London and trying to find a way to reconcile with my friends there and myself. I was trying to look for the greener grass while being stuck in the desert. I was allowing life to happen to me.

Today I am in a city I am eager to get to know and I am excited about my prospects here. I still find myself homesick for London on an almost daily basis, but I have forgiven myself for not making it back (yet). I am about to take the first step on the road of the rest of my life, and I'm anxious to see what lies ahead. I am no longer a bystander of my own life; I am an active participant.

Looks Like We Made It After All

Not back into writing mode yet as I've just dropped off the family at the airport and have yet to come even close to unpacking or situating myself here in Portland. However, I'm here and I'm happy. I'm also seriously contemplating the purchase of a home, but that might be a tad unrealistic at this juncture. I just can't bare the thought of paying rent to someone else. Especially if that someone else is anything like my last landlord or is the owner of some sad one bedroom apartment. Hendrix and I need space. We need room to stretch out our legs and store all our stuff. We need a backyard where we can hangout and enjoy the sunshine.

But housing isn't cheap here in PDX and there's no way anyone's giving this lady a mortgage. Hmph. I'll search anyway because you never know. Stay tuned.

Today Is...

my last day at home. Leaving will be rather bittersweet. I have learned to see the good in where I come from; to love La Crosse for what it is instead of complaining about what it isn't. I have been blessed to spend so much time with my loved ones. I have enjoyed a more than mild Wisconsin summer, a nice retreat from the desert. I have laughed...a lot. I have spent so much time with one of my oldest friends that I wonder if I should feel guilty. I have found a new hobby. There were moments when I thought I might lose my mind, but in the end I can't imagine a better way to have spent the second half of my summer. Thank you, my wonderful Wisconsinites, I love you.

I'm Gonna Get Married

Someday.

My entire adult life I've struggled with the fight for my need for independence/fear of commitment/free spirit versus my desire to have a traditional life with a husband and kids. I'll be honest, the older I get the quieter my biological clock seems to get, but the stronger my desire for partnership seems to grow. I'd be lying if I didn't say that there are days when the loneliness is palpable. I love my girlfriends, they are my strength and support, but with so many of them being attached it forces me to reflect on my own singledom.

Aside from what might be the obvious reasons (being the third wheel gets old, even with the best of couples), here are some of the reasons that I have determined I will one day get married:

Simon and Garfunkel's America I've been in love with this song since I was 17. The opening line is so poignant for me, "let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together". I want to be Kathy. I want to travel around America on a Greyhound and play games with the faces. I want to look for America with someone who understands the importance and meaning of this song to me.

Coffee and Newspaper I make a pretty killer cup of coffee. I enjoy drinking said coffee while reading the newspaper. It would be nice to have someone (besides my awesome Grams) to make coffee for and discuss the daily news with.

Traveling I have been to some of the most romantic cities in the world (Paris, Prague, Florence), alone (well, with my family or friends, but still...). I've flown half way around the world, alone. I've seen and done so many amazing things, but haven't had anyone to share it all with me. I want someone to hold my hand as the plane takes off. I want someone's shoulder to sleep on during those long flights. I want someone to walk through the streets of Paris with and have other people be totally disgusted by how in love we are. And maybe for those same people to think we're French.

My baby need a daddy Hendrix loves boys; she loves male attention. I'm not sure where she gets it because it certainly isn't from me. I know it sounds silly but I want a slew of pups and it would be real nice to have someone to walk them with me and help name them.

Cooking for Two I really enjoy cooking, but it gets depressing cooking for one. Not just because then you have to do all the clean up, but also because you're eating leftovers for days. I want someone to enjoy my cooking and wash my damn dishes.

Dream Wedding As cynical as I am, I'm still like every other girl and have been dreaming about my wedding since I was a little girl. I think I've just about got it right in my head...except for the groom part. Minor detail.

Make a House a Home The one thing I want almost as much as someone to share my life with is a house. Maybe even a little more, but Jill tells me I have to have a husband to get a house. Le sigh. But seriously, I really really really really and really want a house. A nice old house that needs a little bit of work. Someplace that is older than me with a big front porch and a back porch. Shoot, this is my fantasy, it's gonna have a wrap around porch. It'll have loads of character and we'll fill it with vintage furniture that is as eclectic as we are. We'll collect odds and ends on our travels and have a story for every rad accessory we have. Oh man, I'd get married tomorrow if he came with a house.

Happiness is... being married to your best friend. And that's exactly what I want, so that someday I can hang my Gram's magnet on my fridge.

I'll agree, this all sounds a little Hollywood, a little clique, a little unrealistic. However, I think I deserve it, and at the end of the day all I really want is someone to hold my hand. The way my grandpa used to hold my grandma's in church when he thought no one else was looking. Because when all is said and done, it comes down to the simple things...someone to sit with in church and hold your hand after 50+ years of marriage. Better get crackin'.

Aside From Being French

One day over fine microbrews my buddy, Eric, and I were discussing what we'd like to be when we grow up. This of course would be in an ideal world where degrees and know how mean nothing, where all you need is to dream hard enough and the job is yours. In this world, when I grow up, I would be one of the following...

Host of a travel show My mate, Raf, and I have already discussed this one. We figure we're good looking and funny enough (and modest too) that people would love to watch us travel the planet, eating good food and sleeping in the finest hotels. We haven't officially decided what our schtick is going to be, but we're working on it. Check your local listings.

Fashion editor/writer/anything to do with fashion Sadly I feel I have discovered too late in life how much I love fashion. Even more sad is that I discovered that I do not have enough money to let this love flourish. Instead I spend my money and time on fashion magazines and blogs, hoping to one day be as trendy as hip as the ladies they feature. That way maybe I'll end up on Glamour's "Do List" or something similarly affirming. Fingers crossed!



Author/music journalist It's not a secret that I love music and I love musicians just as much. No amount of money is too much money to spend on albums and concerts, and if you're a music journalist you're gettin it all for free. Sweet! Plus, I secretly always wanted to be William Miller in Almost Famous. And I'd get to hang out with hip pretentious people on a regular basis. Double sweet!

Modern Day Martha Stewart I know she's still alive and kicking, but come on, does anyone younger than 40 actually buy into her deal? Don't get me wrong, I love her line of kitchenwares at Macy's, but that's about it. She's a little old fashioned for me; a little too country. I'd be like an urban, hip Martha that 20 and 30 somethings would love and adore. I'd be on Oprah and she would make me a regular guest, like Dr. Oz. The Obamas would invite me to their house for dinner and they too would be enchanted by me. Ok, maybe I'm getting a little carried away. Maybe I should keep sewing and cooking before I get ahead of myself.

College professor Sounds achievable, right? Except when you remember that in order to be a professor at any reputable university you have to have a PhD, which means about 4 more years of schooling after I finish the next 2 and a half. But molding young minds sounds like a good time. That and summers off. Plus, I love school. Seriously, love it. I love books, I love paper and pens and folders and binders. My best day ever is spent shopping for schools supplies. Oooooooh, loves it.

Summer Sounds

This has been an interesting summer for me, to say the least, so I am trying to keep my music selection upbeat. I can be great affected by melancholy music, and I do my best to avoid it when it I sense it might do nothing but bring me down. Instead I have filled my ears with some rather rockin' and uplifting tunes over the past few months, and I thought I might share them with you lovely folks. I strongly recommend you check them all out as soon as humanly possible.

French Kicks Swimming

My friend, Mark, introduced me to these guys when I was in Austin this spring and I finally bought the album a few weeks ago. It has been on very heavy rotation ever since. It will not surprise many of you when I say I might have a wee bit of a crush on the lead singer.

Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs Show Your Bones and It's Blitz

I saw them twice this summer and I'm absolutely in love with Karen O. This is the exact music that is required for an impromptu dance party. I also imagine it would be excellent for dancing about in your underwear (I only imagine, not that I've actually done it). This is from one of the shows at The Marquee in Tempe (a venue I'll greatly miss), and is probably one of the greatest love songs of all time. I think I'd like to dance to it at my wedding (my imaginary one obviously).

Phoenix Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

I love all things French. Phoenix is no exception. This album is only $7.99 on iTunes so you should probably buy it now.

Passion Pit Manners

I saw these guys at Sasquatch and they were nothing short of a-mazing.

Kings of Leon Any album will suffice

I can't help it, I'm still way into these guys (and I don't just mean the lead singer, Caleb), and also saw them at Sasquatch. They're very "it" right now, but they've been big in the UK for years. Their music makes me reminisce about the "good old days", but still makes me very happy. It's also very good for dancing about. If you enjoy rock, especially southern rock, these are your guys.

Adele 19

An awesome English chic. Her album is great for feeling lovesick and empowered. She'll knock your socks off.

I'm of course throwing in some classics here and there, but mostly it's these albums over and over and over. Other than that I've been trying the old iPod on shuffle and finding new tunes every day. It's like opening a Cracker Jack box and waiting for the surprise. Ahhh, music makes me smile.

How to Gain Weight - Wisconsin Edition

Before we begin I am compelled to warn you that this process takes true commitment and is not for the faint of heart. If you are not willing to put in the time and effort to gain weight there is no point in even beginning this endeavor. There are only three seemingly easy steps, but I assure you they are not as easy as one might think. However, with full commitment you should see results in a matter of days.

First, you must not even consider exercise. Exceptions can be made if you have a dog that needs to be walked, but for best results you must be as inactive as possible. It is also important to note that walking around the mall, Target or any other store is not considered exercise and can be done liberally.

Second, eat. A lot. Eat foods that aren't good for you. Eat foods you haven't eaten in months because they weren't on your diet plan. And eat as much of them as you would like. Make sure there are plenty of birthdays being celebrated so you can take full advantage of the extra cake calories. Eat at your favorite restaurants and forget about ordering a salad. Maximize your calorie intake with plenty of french fries and cheese curds. And don't forget about the ice cream. Make sure you try as many flavors as possible as often as possible. Do not let all that homemade fatty goodness go to waste.

The third and perhaps most difficult step is drinking beer. Now there's no need to overdue it. The equivalent of one a day is plenty if you haven't been drinking beer for the last few months. Beer has loads of calories, especially those amazing micro brews that are so prominent in Wisconsin. Try them all, find one you like, and drink loads of it. You will not regret it once you see the results.

Of course there are other variations on these three steps, so this is meant to be only a basic outline. And as always, feel free to contact me directly with any comments, questions or concerns. Happy gaining!

Charitable Warm and Fuzzies

As many of you know, I'm still struggling with the loss of my hair. I've gone past the anger phase, but at least once a week I find myself thinking, "if only I still had my long hair..." Despite this, I would not think twice about recommending that every woman (or daring man) I know do the same thing. Even if you only donate once it is such a worthwhile cause and when you get that postcard in the mail saving they've received your hair you really do feel warm and fuzzy. Well, at least I did. Whenever I feel down about my bare neck I remind myself that some little girl needed my hair much more than I did.

What's even more rad is that through my donation to Locks of Love (http://www.locksoflove.org/) I found out about another charity opportunity through Hotels Combined. And you don't even need to cut off 13 inches of your hair! All you have to do is give them a shout out on your blog, friend them on Facebook or mention them on your Twitter (although I am pretty opposed to Twitter, but if you're into it that's your choice). They'll donate either $5, $10 or $20 to WWF, Make a Wish or World Vision on your behalf and you get the warm and fuzzies for doing something you'd do anyway: waste your time on the interwebs. Check them out. It only takes a minute and it could do a world of good for someone else. Plus, who doesn't like to feel warm and fuzzy?

I recommend Hotels Combined and sent $20 to World Vision!

You can shout and help too.

Life Is Too Short

I don't know much but I know that life is too short...

to worry about problems you cannot fix.

to always be looking for the bad in a situation instead of the good.

to be uptight. For God's sake, laugh a little.

to not smile, laugh or cry tears of joy at every possible opportunity.

to burn bridges instead of building bonds.

to not tell your nearest and dearest that you love them; as often as possible.

to take it so seriously.

to take yourself so seriously.

to not at least try to make your dreams a reality.

to lose sleep over those who would not lose sleep over you.

to wait around for yours to begin.

to expect opportunities to fall in your lap.

to put your happiness in someone else's hands.

to not at least forget if you can't forgive.

to take advantage of those who love you.

to let those you love take advantage of you.

to not put yourself first when necessary.

to let love pass you by.

to not experience as much of it as possible before your time is up.

Patsy and Becky Go to Stockholm (Wisconsin)

One of the best things about being home this summer has been spending so much time with one of my oldest and dearest friends, Jill/Patsy. We're both busy ladies, so we don't get to talk very often when I'm off living here or there, and most of the time I'm only home for a week so I only see her once for a short period of time. Fortuitously, she and her husband only live a mile from my Gram's, so I've been able to see her several times a week. Our latest adventure was to Stockholm...Wisconsin.

I drive past this cute little town every time I drive from La Crosse to my parent's in Baldwin and have always wanted to stop (by always I mean for the last month). I roped in Patsy and we were off.

Stockholm is filled with cute little shops and restaurants. There's also a winery/cidery that was closed, much to my dismay. We spent the morning shopping and after an unsuccessful attempt at the winery had lunch at Gelly's. I'd been craving a bloody mary for weeks (don't judge) and was pleased to find that there's came highly recommended. As a connoisseur I had to try. Perfectly spiced and marvelously garnished, I was not disappointed.

Although completely stuffed from lunch we had to stop at the Nelson Creamery on the way home. Sadly, we were too full to adequately take in the fabulous meat and cheese selection, but we did manage to make room for a strawberry ice cream cone. I'm not sure I can say it's better than The Pearl, but at only $1 (!) a cone I'd say it's close. Either way, it was well worth the digestional discomfort.

10 Reasons My Gram Is Probably Cooler Than Yours

1. She's lived through The Depression, World War II, raising 4 children on the farm, being married for 58 years and losing the love of her life five years ago.

2. She was a self-proclaimed work horse. She pulled her weight on the farm and helped Grandpa with the milking and the business end of things. Never one to just a farm wife, she's the matriarch of our family. It has always been, "What Grandma says, goes".

3. She has a wicked sense of humor. She has always not only loved to laugh, but loved to make others laugh too.

4. She's conservative, but she listens with an open-mind to her flaming liberal granddaughter's rantings. What's even cooler is that she accepts that I'm liberal and she doesn't try to change me.

5. She's nosey and a bit of a gossip (two traits I absolutely inherited from her), and she's unapologetic about it. Yet, she has a heart of gold and could never be malicious or unkind.

6. She is the definition of generous. She still volunteers her time for the church in whatever way possible. You tell her you like something she'll either give you hers or she'll find another, better one for you. She wouldn't think twice about it and she'd never expect a thank you.

7. She and Grandpa helped raise my brother and me (our mom traveled and our dad was a firefighter). I love my parents dearly, but I still hold that everything good about me comes from them.

8. In her hay-day she could out cook, out garden and out sew anyone. Although she doesn't cook as often as she used to, but when she does it is guaranteed to be the best meal you've had in a long time. Her mashed potatoes are in my opinion the best...in the world. Also, she makes a killer tuna fish and apple sandwich (sounds weird, I know, but I promise you tuna will never be the same for you after you've tried it).

9. She loves unconditionally, unrelentingly and selflessly. She still accepts my mom (her ex-daughter-in-law) as family. She has "adopted" numerous grandchildren, and even children. Once she opens up her heart to you, you're in for life.

10. She's 87 today and although time and age have taken their toll on her body, she has higher spirits than anyone I know.

First Annual Father/Daughter Tour de Trempealeau

I really enjoy spending time with my dad. We both really enjoy spending time outdoors and eating. So in the spirit of father/daughter bonding I suggested that we bike from Onalaska to Trempealeau to have lunch at the famed Trempealeau Hotel. Dad was pumped, but it was not until I told my mom about this adventure that I realized what I was getting myself into...a 30 mile bike. Having barely ridden more than 10 miles in the past year I was mildly concerned that I would either a.) fall off my bike or b.) be too tired/sore/out of shape to complete the journey.

I am happy to report that neither were an issue. Riding a bike really is like a riding a bike; you never forget and unless you're a completely uncoordinated schmuck you shouldn't be falling off. And quitting anything is not really an option when Dave Pertzsch is involved.

Lunch was well worth the ride if only for the walnut balls. The Trempealeau Hotel is famous for their walnut burgers (now available at Festival Foods - I highly recommend trying them), which you can get in the form of a ball as a starter. Delicious. Although the recipe used at the hotel is supposedly a secret that will not stop me from scouring the interweb until I can find something similar.

Conversation always comes easily for Papa Bear and I. Highlights for me were my continued attempts to get him to make an appointment for a physical and his brief lecture on Lance Armstrong's mental endurance. I think talking about Lance when on such a long bike journey is mandatory.

Overall it was a great way to spend an afternoon. We returned to Grandma's where I promptly began complaining about how much my butt hurt. Dad, on the other hand, hopped back on his bike and did an extra 4 miles back to his house. Shown up by my 59 year old dad again. Such is life.

26.5

Unfortunately, I am not half way done with my list of resolutions, but sadly I am half way done with me 26th year.

Making Myself More Marketable as a Wife or You Can Just Call Me Martha

I've had a considerable amount of time on my hands since returning to Wisconsin for the summer 4 weeks ago. Where I would usually enjoy filling my days with shopping, lunching, brunching or cocktailing limited means and an even more limited number of friends left here have reduced those opportunities. Left to my own devices I am apparently working on becoming a mini-Martha Stewart.

It started with the cooking. I've known for quite some time now, but have only admitted to a select view, that I am actually a pretty decent (I'd even venture to say "good") cook. I know my way around the kitchen and actually enjoy reading cookbooks. Most disturbingly my favorite cookbooks are the healthy ones. Noticing that the meals here at Grandma's house were pretty limited (my uncle does most of the cooking now and after being a bachelor for 55 years his cooking skills haven't evolved much, but he tries really hard), I decided to step up to the plate and offered to cook a few dinners. After a week of playing housewife (my job is also to clean up all the dinner dishes and I usually busy myself with other little cleaning projects), I decided cooking a full meal every night (including desert) was maybe a little ambitious. Maybe we won't be cooking every day because really there's nothing wrong with frozen pizza every once and a while.

However, cooking is clearly the gateway drug of the domestic world because suddenly I was overcome with the desire to sew. I've attempted to pick up this activity several times before but have always been unsuccessful. I know how to fix a seam or a button so I always figured that was enough. Plus the patterns and fabrics never really enticed me. I even went so far as to give away my sewing machine to my sister figuring I'd never make use of it. But, lo and behold, I've gotten hooked and yesterday my dear Auntie Kar helped me complete my first project. Just a simple apron to go with my new image as mini-Martha.

The Grass is Greener, but I Kinda Miss the Sand

Over the past 7 years I have moved to several international locations and now I am continuing to makd my way around my own country. From the outside it might appear that I enjoy moving, but this could not be further from the truth. I hate moving, and not just the actual activity of moving. I can live without packing, sure, but it's what you have to leave behind when you move that really gets me.

When I moved to Phoenix it was only meant to be temporary. I hated the city then and to be honest, I still kinda hate it now, but after two and a half years you cannot help but form a connection. After some reflection I have decided there will always be things I'll miss about Phoenix.

1. Restaurants and Bars: Four Peaks, Casey's, Pita Jungle, Oregano's, Hanny's, The Breakfast Club, The Farm and the hip new ones that seem to pop up almost weekly.

2. Being able to sit outside 12 months out of the year...yes, for about four of those months you have to sit in front of a swamp cooler, but the option is still there.

3. Frances on 7th St and Central

4. Shows at The Marquee

5. Seeing the blond girl with the really big lips at every Roger Clyne show...well, really just Roger Clyne shows, but that girl too.

6. Movies in the park at The Biltmore

7. Our local dog park

8. MoJo!

9. Being able to see my mom and step-dad regularly.

10. Hiking at South Mt and Camelback

11. FRIENDS!!!!!! My Martha, my Boy Bestie, B & B (I probably would have never moved there without them), Little Baby Alex, Amyz, Fawn, all my work buds (Suz, Andrew, Meghan, Jenna...) and the many others that shared my time there and made it not just livable but enjoyable.

The list isn't that long, but hey, there was a time when I probably couldn't have come up with more than 2 or 3.

Missed Connections

To say that I'm inept when it comes to matters of love and/or the opposite sex would be an understatement. In my life I have certainly kissed more boys than I have allowed to get to know me. I have wasted kisses on boys who knew little more than my name because God forbid they knew anything substantial about me. I was content to let them know what I kissed like, but shuttered at the thought of them knowing that and my inner thoughts. You could know one or the other, but few got to know both. It made sense to me. Most who did get to know both were not what I expected and thus I became more and more reluctant. I have throughout my adult life been involved with variations of the same guy; equally charismatic and heart breaking. Most of these relationships were based on infatuation, which always fades.

I have never kissed a boy first. It has been nearly a decade since I have told a boy that I am interested in him, and even then it was half-heartedly at the encouragement of my girlfriends. There is a pleasure in being pursued, even if it is by the wrong guy. But wouldn't there be more pleasure in being with someone that I actually like?

On too many occasions I have pushed away guys that I have been genuinely interested in because they knew me too well. Or even worse because they were not a variant of the aforementioned jerk. I know in my heart what I am looking for but seem only to work to not get it, to almost actively avoid it.

This leads me to think, why is there not a missed connections section to such situations? For example: "You know who you are. I'm sorry I didn't let you kiss me because I have a crap ton of issues that you are already well aware of. I should have but am not too embarrassed to say so in person. Please, try again at your earliest convenience." This section of Craiglist would surely be a hit. I am certainly not alone in my fear of putting myself out there. This way no one is embarrassed, no one feels let down. Think about it and spread the word.

Away I Went

My last few days in Phoenix were much harder for me than I had anticipated. Hendrix and I were home alone and between packing and cleaning all I could do was cry. Pack and cry, cry and pack. It was pretty miserable. My last day was excruciating. Dogs are very perceptive and Hendrix was just as miserable as me. I couldn't take it but had several hours to kill before "the last supper". With all my friends working I decided my time would be better spent in a dark movie theatre alone than sitting on my couch moping and crying (seriously, the tears were endless).

Knowing that it wouldn't be playing in my hometown I decided to go see Away We Go hoping that it would be at least somewhat uplifting. Plus, how can you go wrong with 90 minutes of John Krasinksi? Fearful of my first solo movie experience, I decided to go to AZ Mills knowing it would be far less likely that I'd run into anyone that I know, got my Cherry Coke and confidently sat, alone. It was a Tuesday afternoon so there were maybe half a dozen others in the theatre. No one even seemed to notice me. In fact, they probably didn't. Really, it isn't as much of a social catastrophe to go to a movie alone as I've always made it out to be. As the lights dimmed and the previews began to play I felt proud of myself, accomplished almost. Minus when I nearly burst into tears during a preview for a movie about Woodstock. Huh? I don't even understand that one.

The movie was perfectly balanced; funny and heartwarming. There were scenes were I laughed unabashedly and scenes were I fought back tears. I could relate to the idea of trying to find a place in the world where you feel like you belong. I understand the concept of being a grown up, but still not having grown up. I'm not sure I could have picked a better film for my first time alone experience.

On the way home I cried my eyes out, naturally. However, I still counted the experience as a victory.

Nice Guys Can Be Great Men

As I get older I have to admit that I spend more time thinking about what kind of man I'd like to spend the rest of my life with. Not that I'm looking to get hitched, but I'm not getting any younger so I can't be wasting my time with schmucks. My mom and I concluded some time ago that I have spent most of my adult life trying to find a man like my brother, when I really need to be looking for someone like my dad. Now don't get me wrong, I love and adore my brother. He is an amazing father and has grown and matured into a pretty awesome guy, but in his younger days he was troubled but charismatic. I used to joke that he had more charisma in his little finger than I did in my entire body. People were drawn to him. Girls were intrigued by him and mistakenly thought they could fix him. I never set out to fix anyone, but I was still drawn to the troubled soul. My heart got broken every time.

My dad on the other hand, although somewhat of a play boy in his younger years (as reported by my mom), can be described first and foremost as being nice. He's genuine and kind. He's thoughtful and giving. He's intelligent and interesting. He's a problem solver. He's a good listener because he actually care about what I have to say. He's a loyal and honest friend. He loves his family more than anything and spent his adult life ensuring that his parents were taken care of. Most people probably wouldn't describe him as being funny, but he seems to share his sense of humor for my brother and I. He makes me laugh and he makes me think. He's aged similarly to Robert Redford, but seems completely unaware that so many women find him handsome. The older he gets the more it becomes obvious that he just like his own father, who sadly passed away five years ago this past week. My grandpa was a quintessential nice guy, and proof that inside a nice guy there is probably a great man. I miss him daily...

I wrote this last year in memory of him and it seems even more true today than then:
"As a little girl my grandpa was my hero. He was a tall man with strong, workman's hands, yet he was a gentle soul. He always made me feel safe and special. When I struggled as a teenager to come into my own he never failed to tell me I was beautiful and I always believed him. He wasn't the kind to say something he didn't mean.; you could never accuse him of being disingenuous (something I hope I inherited from him).

The older I get though the more I realize that they just do not make men like him anymore. Men today do not seem to be made of the same moral fabric. My grandpa was a man of few words but when he spoke you damn well better be listening. He did not waste his time or words with idle chit chat or gossip (clearly those of you who know me well know that I was not blessed to inherit this trait). You often hear people say, "If you don't have anything good to say, don't say anything at all", yet few of them take their own advise. My grandpa lived that mantra. I can honestly say I never heard an unkind word come out of his mouth and in turn I believe I'd be hard pressed to find anyone who could say an unkind thing about him.

It's hard to imagine a man of such few words would have such a biting sense of humor, yet he could make me laugh like no other. He was quick witted and quietly charasmatic. He would be straight faced one moment and up dancing along to the Grand Ol' Opry the next. Always looking to get a laugh out of his grandkids, he would play with his dentures at the dinner table. His favorite joke ended with the punchline "Sally ate my candy and I hope it rot her damn teeth out". Something utterly amusing and inappropriate for a 8 year old to hear. His laugh was more infectious than the flu; when he laughed you laughed because like everything about my grandpa his laugh was genuine. You knew it was coming from the pit of his stomach and could read it all over his face.

You could also easily see the love he had for my grams. In a time when most men ruled their homes, he treated my grams as an equal. Their marriage was a partnership. He depended on her not only for meals and child rearing but for financial guidance and business opinions. More than that, her love and support kept him going. Growing up I always smiled at the magnet on their fridge that said "Happiness is being married to your best friend" because for them it was so true. He would sing "Here she is, Miss America" as she brought our dinner to the table. Well into their seventies they would sneak a little hand holding in church. Seeing them kiss at their 50th wedding anniversary is one of the few reasons I still believe in love and marriage. It also helps that there is no doubt in my mind that he loved her just as much the day he died as the day he married her. There is no doubt that she is still loving him the same way.

Sadly, I have lost a lot of grandparents in my life - I often joke that the worst part about having three sets (my mom's parents were divorced) is when they start passing away - but losing my grandpa was by far the hardest. It still is. I don't think there is a day that goes by that I don't think of him or thank God that I was able to properly say good-bye. Yet, there is a comfort in knowing that he is in a better place where he no longer has to suffer. There is the comfort of the memories and knowing that I was blessed to have him as long as I did. There is the hope that somewhere in this world there are still men like my grandpa and that maybe someday I'll be lucky enough to find one half as great."

When I Grow Up I Want to Be French

It's a not so well known fact that I love pretty much everything French: music, films, the language, the food, the men (although they always seem to be a little short) and the toast. But most of all I love the way that French women dress. They have such an effortless grace, like no matter what they put on they are going to look fantastic. I hate them for it! And I constantly strive for that same seemingly effortless fabulousness. Last night I made one such attempt for the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs show.

Really, I just put on a vertical striped shirt and suddenly I think I look French. Probably not. However, I did finally manage to style my hair in a way that I don't entirely hate.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

I've been up to a lot the past few months, mostly traveling, and I hope to share more about that...but one of the biggest things just happened yesterday. I finally decided it was time to donate my hair to Locks of Love. Unfortunately, in my nervous rush to get to the salon I forgot to take a tape measurer and my stylist couldn't find one either. Not wanting to fall short of the 10 inch minimum we just decided that's she'd chop off as much as possible, which ended up being 13 inches (I measured when I got home). I'm not thrilled with the results, but I'm sure it will grow on me (hahahahahaha, bun intended).

What do you think?

Overzealous

As many people close to me can attest to, I tend to go at things full force and then just lose interest all together. More often than I should be I'm overzealous for a short period of time and then I'm underzealous (yeah, I just made that word up) until I'm over it. However, after having several complaints from friends and family I've decided not to let that happen here. I sincerely apologize for my absence and promise to make it up to you...

Down to the Wire

I'm going to be honest with you, this economy can kiss me bum! It seems that everyone has had the genius idea to go back to school and with universities making budget cuts left and right something has to give. So what gives? Me! Today I had a very nice denied e-mail from Portland State. So sweet those Oregonians.

So now not only are all my eggs in a Portland basket, but that basket is now marked Lewis & Clark. If that falls through there are only two things left to do.

1. Become a raging alcoholic and just give up on pursuing my dreams (getting out of AZ and working towards a career in counseling).

OR

2. Start looking elsewhere. I may make it back to London yet! Or at least a little closer...New York, I'm looking your way.

Enjoy the Silence

Sorry I haven't been as diligent as I should be. They're cracking down and monitoring our internet browsing at work, which unfortunately limits my opportunities to write. Foiled! I pinky swear I'll post something worthwhile, witty and wordy soon.

Budget Cuts

Like our government, most Fortune 500 companies and ASU I have decided to make some fairly drastic budget cuts for 2009 (at least until further notice). There are certain things I am not willing to live without so in order to have those I have to give up a few other things. Here are the areas that will be hit:

1. "Literary" entertainment. No more magazines! I spend around $25 a month on magazines, sometimes more if I'm traveling. I'm not saying I'm not going to buy one every once and a while, but there is certainly no need to buy one or more a week. At $4 a pop, it's almost as expensive as smoking. And I get nothing out of it other than useless celebrity gossip and more motivation to shop.

2. Shopping. No new, old, used, thrifted or E-bayed clothes, shoes, or accessories. Although I will gladly accept gifts and hand-me-downs. :)

3. "Liquid" entertainment. This is where the two drink limit comes in. I know I've gone in to this before, but I'm cementing in here. Week three and going strong!

4. "Edible" entertainment. I eat out way too much. It's the easiest way to see friends and relatively speaking it can be inexpensive, except when you're going out at least 5 times a week. That adds up fast and hits the wallet quick. This will certainly be the hardest cut to make, so I'm still contemplating the stipulations. I'm thinking no more than 3 times a week. Hey, that's like a 50% cut!

5. Beauty products. I have a problem when it comes to the beauty aisle at Target. If you look in my shower right now you'll find 2 different kinds of body wash, 2 kinds of shampoo, 3 kinds of conditioner, body scrub, 2 kinds of face wash and 2 types of shaving cream. Ridiculous! This is so beyond necessary and incredibly expensive. More than that I have enough hair products to stock a salon.

6. Target entertainment. No more needless Target purchases. That place is my cryptonite! I can easily drop $50 going in for Q-tips. Here's the rule: I can only go when I need something and I can only buy what I have on my list. If it's not on the list then it's not in my basket.

7. Pet supplies. Hendrix is crazy spoiled! She has more toys than some toddlers. She absolutely does not need them all. She can only play with one at a time and she most certainly cannot tell the difference between any of them. On top of that she has a live in playmate to entertain her. And really, those things are about $10 each. That means there's at least $100 dollars in dirty, slobbery dog toys hanging around my house.

So there you have, the 2009 Kelly Marie Pertzsch budget cuts.

Hurts So Good

Have you ever watched the end of an Ironman? You know when the athletes are falling all over the place and walking like zombies? I always find it really comical to watch. I know, I know, it's sick and mean and probably shows some kind of lack of self-esteem on my part. But come on, that stuff's funny!

Anyway, karma has a funny way of biting me on the bum and has done so this week. All my laughing at those intense and amazing athletes has come back to me in the form of my own little Ironman walk. Sunday I had my second appointment with Dan the Personal Training Man and he royally kicked my arse. I'm talking squats after squats after squats followed by some weights. Needless to say, I have not walked the same since.

Naturally I'm quite convinced that people are looking at me like I'm a lunatic or some kind of polio survivor. Or perhaps they are thinking "Wow, that girl must have rode that horse for a really long time". There is also the possibility that they assume I have injured myself in some obscure manor, but not one person has said a word about it. This leads me to believe that either a.) it really isn't as bad as I think or the more likely b.) people don't want to embarrass me or, more importantly, themselves by asking.

Not only can I hardly walk, but sitting is about the most excruciating activity imaginable. Every time I sit down at my desk I let out a silent cry of pain. I fear getting into the car and don't even get me started on the terror a trip to the bathroom instills. But in the end it will all be worth it to have smaller, cellulite-free thighs (this really is just wishful thinking, but the smaller part is true). When I'm slipping on my size 8 jeans I'll think, "Ha! How funny it was when I couldn't walk for 3 days, but look at how fabulous I am now!" Or at least that is what I tell myself when I get out of bed in the morning and fall straight to the ground because my legs are still so freaking sore!!

On a side note, I had planned on calling this entry "It Hurts When I Pee", but I didn't want to cause any offense. Except now I've said it anyway and have probably offended at least one of you. Sorry, my B!

Sunday, Cookday

I'm starting to realize I should have made a resolution that involved cooking because I could actually be keeping that one.

I've never been one for cooking as I much prefer to have someone cook for me.  This is a trait I picked up from my mother who managed to marry not one, but two men who did the majority of the cooking.  Now, she can cook and actually is quite good at it, but she chooses not to.  I like this approach.  However, when you're single and living with two girls who don't cook either maintaining this lifestyle can be a bit difficult.  On top of that, I am sticking to a pretty strict healthy regimen these days and there are really only so many salads I can eat.

Last Sunday I had a hankering for some homemade chili so I went out to Target and bought myself a crockpot (chili is always best from a crockpot).  I called my dad to get his recipe but then at the grocery store decided to make a healthy version (turkey instead of beef and organic beans).  It was a hit! I was quite pleased with myself and decided to have another go this Sunday.

Today I tried Shepherd's Pie, something I am always missing from England. Again, I decided to go the healthy route with turkey instead of beef and skipping all the sauces. Not so lucky this time around, but definitely edible if not a bit bland. Next time (and there definitely will be one) I'll have to try another recipe.

I'm sticking to easy (and preferably low fat) recipes for now, but if you have any suggestions send them my way. Who knows, maybe I'll learn to like cooking after all.

The First Amendment

I would like to make an amendment to resolution 17.  Saturday I joined a gym partly because it's going to get really hot here in a month or two and there is no way I'm going to be able to motivate myself to get outside and run, but mostly because that way I can use an elliptical machine instead of running.  I'm pretty good at working the system when I want to be.  Cheeky, I know.

At any rate, the membership came with two free sessions with a personal trainer and I had my first one yesterday.  Dan the training man kicked my butt, and I loved it.  I'm sore as heck today, but I was up at 5:15 and at gym by 5:45.  Still sore as heck but I don't mind in the slightest.  

Amendment: Work out at least 4 days a week.  

Closet Shopping

This week I made a concerted effort to shop from my closet. This meant finding things that I couldn't remember wearing in the last 3 months or longer. It was quite a success. Here are a few of my "new" purchases.

I'd only worn this dress once to a wedding this summer. I feel like it's a little big, but putting a sweater over it seemed to help. I'm not sold on the yellow sweater, but I liked the look. We don't get much of a spring here in Arizona (It's basically some variation of summer here all year long), but this outfit made me feel springy.

Dress: American Rag (Macy's)
Sweater: Gap
Tights: Merona (Target)
Heels: Old Navy
Pearls: Forever21
Bracelet: Old Navy


I actually used to wear this dress quite often, but I realized it had been a while when I pulled it out of my closet and my roommate went, "Oooh, I've never seen that before" (she has, but she has quite a bad memory). I've also only worn the vest once or twice. It's navy and for some reason I always have a hard time with navy.

Dress: Gap
Vest: Gap
Tights: Gap
Boots: Forever21
Necklace: Bridesmaid gift from my friend, Jill


I honestly don't know when I wore this top last. I have a hard time putting it with anything other than leggings. Same with the shoes. They're green gingham and I've probably only worn them twice. I love green, but it's hard to throw a gingham into many outfits. I don't wear the black skinny jeans often either because they are exactly what they say they are: skinny.

Top: Gap
Tank Top: Gap
Jeans: Old Navy
Shoes: Gap
Scarf as headband: Forever21
Necklaces: Forever21 and H&M


The necklaces aren't "new" but they're cheap and cheerful, and I wear them all the time!