The New Year…a Bit Late

As I’ve gotten older, I feel that every year seems to go by quicker.  I know that that isn’t actually true, although I wonder as to why this is.  Maybe as an adult you become acutely aware of time and what you do with it?  As a child and then young adult, we seem to take everything for granted, so maybe that is what it is…not taking things for granted.  Either way, one certainty of a new year is that you don’t know what is going to happen…the possibilities are endless.  Every year brings new joys and sorrows, people entering and exiting your life…change.  Looking back on last year, my life is completely different and still partially the same (if that makes any sense), and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

This past NYE, I spent unlike the previous one.  Going into 2012, the city was my playground…literally.  I met a friend of mine for dinner, then we partied the night away in true NYC fashion.  The one that occurred a little over two weeks ago was quite low-key.  My boyfriend and his roommates decided to have a party at their apartment, having only just moved in a couple of months before…unfortunately for me, I didn’t even have one drink that night.  The Saturday before I had woken up with a cough and, as Monday rolled around, it had gotten progressively worse to the point that my throat and chest hurt from coughing.  At some point I started getting cold and even dressed in Billy’s sweats to get warm (which didn’t work, nothing worked) before realizing that I had a fever.  Billy put me to bed right after midnight.

Last year was an interesting year for me.  Melissa and I started taking yoga classes, which I have since found a place in Brooklyn (by Billy’s) that I try to frequent twice a week.  I went back to school by the persuasion of my boyfriend…which was a scary thing.  Who knew that it would take the whole first semester in order to get my focus back?  I became a godmother to beautiful baby Brooke (“lil B”), whom I have still yet to meet because she lives so very far away from me (and even farther now that she has just moved to Hawaii).  Not to fear though, I will be journeying to Hawaii come April for her christening (and a pre-birthday vacation)…and then I may take her home with me (sorry Tara!).  And I found the love of my life.  I wasn’t looking for him, and I was definitely not having the best of days, but I went to see my friend’s band (New Beard) playing downtown the night before July 4th, and I found him.  I walked right up to him and he walked away.  There are claims (from him) that we chatted a bit not too long after, but I do not have any recollection of that (I had consumed many an alcoholic beverage).  A week later we went out on our first date.

Last year wasn’t all full of positive memories, there were some negative ones as well, but I am choosing to focus purely on the positive, a theme that I started mid-year, weeding out the negative from my life.  And I have to tell you, when you, it makes a huge difference.  I don’t know what this year will bring, but one thing that I’m certain about is that it will be a great year and I am ready for it!

Another TV Series Gone…Almost

I am not sure if I have confessed this already, but with the series coming to its demise, I’d like to share some thoughts on…Gossip Girl.  Yes, I said it.  I have been obsessed with this show ever since it first aired, and in less than two weeks – with, gasp, only two episodes left – I will have to say goodbye.  Where will my Monday evenings go from here?

I hate when TV shows that I love end.  I spend years culminating my relationships with the characters and feeding off of the plotlines just to have it all yanked away from me.  Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely some shows that need to end (they all do eventually, sigh) but Gossip Girl is not one of them, at least not the way that they’re doing it…if only they would give us a whole final season instead of a partial one.

To completely embarrass myself, I will also confess a show that, although I will always love, was on for a season or two more than it should have been.  7th Heaven.  A few months back I discovered a channel that reruns it during the week, and of course I watch it all the time (style reruns Gossip Girl on Wednesday nights, fyi).  It took me a little while to confess this to my boyfriend, because I knew that he would make fun of me…eventually I did and he does, constantly.

Back to Gossip Girl, and here’s where the tie-in with 7th Heaven comes in.  Something that I love about this season, besides of course, the fact that Chuck and Blair seem to finally be on the right path towards each other (I would have been very upset if it did not end this way), is the fact that Barry Watson, who was on 7th Heaven, had a guest spot.  Although his relationship was doomed from the start, he was after all dating Serena, it was nice to see him on the little screen again. Growing up watching him on 7th Heaven, he was the older brother that I always wanted but never had.

And if I haven’t embarrassed myself enough, the concept of Gossip Girl originally came from a series of books by the same name, written by Cecily von Ziegesar, and I am thinking of purchasing the first one.  I have been told by my boyfriend that I am a book snob because I tend to stay away from mainstream books…perhaps this will count in my favor, although, he still wants me to finish Game of Thrones…one day I will finish it!

Brooklyn…hmmm

If you don’t already know, I have never been a fan of Brooklyn.  Why is this?  For starters, I prefer living in an area that is quiet.  I like walking down the street and barely seeing people (with the exception of people in their cars or by their homes); the quiet suburbanish feel that you can’t really find in Brooklyn, the fact that the blocks (by me) don’t feel cramped with houses and cars and narrow streets…you feel like you can breathe when you step outside, as opposed to breathing in someone’s cigarette as they walk in front of you in a way that you cannot get around them and speed ahead (yes, that happened to me in Brooklyn yesterday when I was exploring a little).  I love the fact that my apartment is in a private house (and I have my own entrance!) instead of in an apartment building, where you have to worry about a lot of people living under the same roof.  In truth, I just love my neighborhood.  Don’t get me wrong, there are annoying aspects to it as well.  A big annoyance (as I have been told repetitively) is that, to get to most places, a car is required.  I, having lived in Whitestone for over a half dozen years, and not owning a car myself, am used to this challenge and am not bothered by it (ok, maybe I am sometimes).  I can walk to the Laundromat, drug store and a bunch of other stores that satisfy me day-to-day, and if I need to go elsewhere, there’s always a way (just maybe not a convenient one).   Honestly though, once I’m home, most of the time I do not venture far.

Enter Brooklyn, of which I have recently been spending a lot of time in.  Why, do you ask, have I been in Brooklyn?  My boyfriend.  Last weekend, Billy moved there with two of his best friends.  They found a nice three bedroom in a Cobble Hill, and now I am forced to spend time there.  Yesterday, after having lunch with Billy’s parents and sister (who came to see his new place), and walking around the neighborhood a bit with them (apparently, walking is all anyone does in Brooklyn), I snatched his keys and stepped out on my own instead of sitting in front of the TV with Billy and his roommates.  I figured that I’d take a little walk and then come back and watch TV with them…but really, I was on a mission.  There was a small wine store that we passed by on route back to his house earlier that afternoon that I wanted to check out (which I gave as the reason for my leaving), but also, I wanted to check out a clothing/accessory shop that I saw, which was just a few blocks in a different direction. 

Upon exiting the building, there was a group of kids walking two dogs.  They took up the whole block so I couldn’t walk in front of them and was forced to walk at a slower pace…until I came to the intersection where they slowed down even more and I was able to speed up and walk in front of them.  A couple of minutes later I walked into the store.  There was a bunch of scarves and gloves, purses (handbags and evening bags), jewelry, and clothes; everything that I had expected it to have, but nothing that I ultimately wanted to buy.  There was a pair of white with light grey striped gloves that I really loved, but they were partially angora, so I gazed at them and ultimately put them back down.  I love the feeling of angora, and the gloves would have been warm, but angora sheds everywhere which can get irritating after the initial love for the item wears off…not to mention the fact that my winter coats are all wool (and dark colors), and the hairs would show up right away.  Maybe I’ll go back in there and get them anyway, lol…  There was a necklace that I liked, and a clutch, but I didn’t like either of them enough for the price that was being charged.  Oh, and the clothes were all really weird and had odd patterns on them.  Needless to say, I walked out of the store with nothing. 

The next stop on my journey was the little wine shop.  I, who have a favorite wine store, have trouble buying from other places (although recently I just found two places that ship two wines I love that my belov’ed store does not carry, so I guess I am branching out…a little).  I honestly am never as satisfied with a bottle unless it comes from my store.  Before I even venture to my wine store, I go onto their website and do a little research (ok, a lot of research) on the type of wine that I want, and I read (and read, and read, and read) until I select a few that I want to try, a few being a stack that I want to try of which I allow myself a few different bottles to choose and actually purchase.  I really do love my wine store.  But, seeing how I am supposed to be giving Brooklyn a chance, I walked into the little wine shop and looked around.  The first thing I noticed that irritated me was that, although the wine did seem to be separated by country, the sections were not labeled.  Also, being a little shop, they didn’t have a huge selection…though I wasn’t expecting them to.  I ended up purchasing two bottles: a California Chardonnay (because I was in the mood for a buttery Chardonnay) and a 2005 Bordeaux (both of which were opened last night, although the Bordeaux was not finished) and then went back to his place. 

All in all, I was gone for about an hour, and unless I had walked in the door with a big shopping bag (other than the wine), I totally could have ended up purchasing those gloves and gotten away with it (I have been banned from shopping… 😦 ).  My thoughts of Brooklyn have yet to be changed.  I don’t think I’ll ever get over my preference of a suburbanish feel over a city feel, but there are a lot of things to do in walking distance (there’s a yoga place a few blocks away that I’m going to check out), and, most importantly, my boyfriend is there.  Brooklyn at least gets points for that! 🙂

Fall into Autumn

Although we officially still have nine days left of summer, it feels like autumn is settling in.  The days are cool, the mornings are cold, and the other day, I saw someone wearing knee-high boots.  Okay, I definitely have had the urge to slip my feet into them myself, but I have resisted (I have started looking for new Uggs online, however, shhhhh, don’t tell my uncle)!  After all, you can get the same effect by choosing pants over a skirt or dress…and it is nice to be able to wear pants again.  Although I am a dress girl, my legs do love the occasional pant draped over them.  It’s a cozy feeling, especially after a brutally hot summer, but I have to admit, it does take some getting used to. 

With the change of seasons, comes the change in wardrobe…almost there!  Over the past month, I have been combing my favorite clothing site in search of new pieces to add to my wardrobe; not a lot of things, but a few basics that I felt I was lacking or needed fresh.  I recently went through my wardrobe and found many pieces (and…..gasp….shoes) to which I either didn’t want anymore, or felt I could part with, to donate to charity.  Of course this gave me an excuse to shop, though, do I really need one?  All joking aside, I am very proud of myself for the amount of clothes and shoes that I am purging myself of.

On another note, I have once again become a victim to my shoes…new shoes to be exact.  I bought these burnt-orange flats from Michael Kors a few weeks ago; the name of the color actually befits the season: Autumn.  I was dying to wear these shoes, so, on Friday, I decided that it would happen.  Of course, I neglected to think about how much extra walking I would be doing, seeing as how I had plans to meet up with my aunt after work and take a wine/food pairing class (tickets that we bought months ago), with a little bit of shopping and a lot of walking before and after.  My feet already hurt just from my morning commute, but I trudged onward, buying the heel gel sticky pads that I use because new shoes tend to cut up the back of my heel…although it was too late: the damage had already been done.  I spent the weekend in pain, and only finally took off the band-aids last night.  One of these days I will learn to take some preventative measures so that that does not occur, but clearly it was not last Friday.  As a result, when the weather is sooo deliciously autumn-like, I surrendered my shoes to my boyfriend on Sunday evening, banning myself from them for the week so that my poor feet could heal; he has yet to realize the sometimes sick relationship I have with my shoes, sick of course meaning that I wear them through the pain, but, what woman doesn’t, might I ask?!  Two more days, and my shoes and I will meet again!

An Autumn (in New York) State of Mind

Try as I may, I have not been able to shake the melancholy feeling of wishing that the summer was over.  I know: blasphemy!  But, as much as I love the summer: laying out in the sun, the feel of sand between my toes, the healthy sun-kissed glow of my skin, the seemingly endless amount of daylight (notice a pattern here? lol), I can’t help but feel excitement in anticipation of what is right around the corner: autumn.  I think autumn may in fact be my favorite season, actually, it definitely is.  There’s nothing like the slight chill in the air that it brings (slight chill, not the frigidity of winter), or the feeling of leaves crunching beneath your feet.  To this day I will still occasionally stomp on leaves, sort of the same way that I’ll still try to make pigeons fly away by different means (running, stomping, swinging something at them, etc), although sadly, they have become immune to such tactics.  When I was a child, we would spend hours in the forest picking up fallen pinecones, which we would then go home and decorate the house with (after we decorated the pinecones of course, with glitter and sometimes colored glues).  I’m not sure which was more fun, the picking or the decorating…they were both a lot of fun.

The start of autumn also brings the different farm activities.  I, personally, love apple picking (I also love apples).  I remember the first time I did it, I was young, so I had no idea how many different kinds of apples there actually were, and that you could taste all of them at the orchard while picking and choosing.  And of course, pumpkin picking, because, who does not smile when that thought pops into their minds.  The thought always makes me smile and remember the fragrance of roasting the pumpkin seeds in the oven after carving (ok, attempting to carve) a jack-o’-lantern; the end result of hunting for the perfectly shaped pumpkin and hayrides, which always seem like more fun than they actually are. 

I am already dreaming about the different shades of browns, oranges, and other earthy tones that will once again be fashionable to wear, the feel of pants on legs that have been bare since the start of the first heat wave.  I cannot wait to wear jeans and boots again (don’t forget sweaters!), and to have hair that does not ruin upon the very hint of humidity.  I also cannot wait until my office is heated rather than air conditioned, because it might as well be winter in my building.

Is Summer Over Yet?

I know that my last post was talking about how excited I was for the official start of summer, but, like last year, I seem to be developing a pattern in August of wanting the summer to end.  The beach doesn’t feel quite as nice as it did in the beginning, and I am sick of the humidity and the heat (more so the humidity).  After another one of our girls’ nights out, I was on the couch with Z watching the weather yesterday morning, and when the weatherman mentioned a cold front coming in overnight, a smile was brought to my face only to be washed away seconds later when the 5-day forecast was shown and the temperatures did not look to resemble anything of the sorts.  It was responsible for the storms of last night, but that was pretty much it.  We had been trying to decide if, despite the cloud coverage, it would be a good idea to lay out on the roof top and catch some sun; both of us had laid out the day before (me at the beach and Z on the roof), but we were a little sluggish when coming to a decision.  I’m not sure if it was the slight hangover that we both had, or the fact that when we did eventually decide to “try it” and walk outside, the humid heat hit us like a wall that just made me want to run back indoors and hide.  I wasn’t’ the only one thinking that apparently, because, after stopping at Dunkin’ Donuts and getting iced caramel lattes, we stepped out onto the roof to find absolutely no one up there.  I snapped a couple pictures of the incredible view, and we retreated back to Z’s apartment.

Not too long after, I decided to embark on my travels home.  Despite my better judgment, I decided to walk the sixteen blocks from Z’s place to the subway so that I would take one less train; by the time I was on the platform waiting for the 7, my face was literally soaked.  Normally this walk does not produce such results; I blame it on the humidity.  When I finally got home, I spent the rest of the day indoors, watching tv and lounging on the couch.

So, the question is: why am I over the summer?  I’ve always gotten over the winter really quickly, but I’ve never been a fan of the cold…so, why summer?  Honestly, I am really not sure, but I do not want to continue this line of thinking into anymore consecutive Augusts.  Action must be taken.  From this moment, every time I have an inkling of a negative thought towards summer, I will immediately dismiss it and replace it with something positive.  For example, this evening, instead of deciding on a somewhere to have dinner, my bf and I will wander around the West Village for a bit and stumble onto a place.  Although the weather is hot, there is something to be said about just walking around the city in the summer: you never know what you’re going to see or where you’re going to end up.  Huge bonus: the humidity is supposed to leave this evening and the temperature is supposed to go down to something like 69.  Crossing my fingers that it happens and I can finally open up my windows which have been shut since Friday morning when the humidity started settling in.

Summer!!

Last week, summer came in with a bang, literally.  Temperatures were well into the 90s and felt anywhere from 100 to 110: well above the normal for this time of year (hmmm, perhaps I should be a meteorologist).  Then, there were the rainstorms of Friday, which personally, I’m thankful for…and I didn’t get wet at all unless you count the back of my legs as I purposefully stood partially outside the door of my Laundromat, feeling in disbelief, the sudden coolness of the air.  In degrees, it only dropped about fifteen, but it felt as if it had dropped twenty-five instantaneously.  I’ve never seen temperatures drop so quickly.

To celebrate the beginning of summer, I took a much needed day off on Friday and frolicked to the beach with an old friend.  I left my house at the same time that I normally would for work, but instead of the lull of my usual bus/subway commute, I was breezing in the opposite direction with the windows rolled down and my friend behind the steering wheel.

We arrived just before 8:30 to a beach I hadn’t been to in years and, aside from the guy who was driving around checking the lifeguard towers, we were the only souls who had dared to step foot on the shore: the sky had been cloudy (I’d decided to chance it) and it was rather early to hit the beach unless one was staying somewhere in the Hamptons or Fire Island, where you could stumble out of bed and directly onto the beach.  After the routine of setting ourselves up, I walked to the shoreline and let the froth of the waves encompass my feet as I gazed out at the vast ocean before me and breathed in the beachy air.  The clouds from the morning had burned off and I was left with sun, sand and ocean.  More often than not, I take myself on a date to the beach; I joke that it is my therapy, but it really is.  I could be surrounded by people and yet the beach feels like it is there just for me.  I lay there for hours in my own savasana, and absorb the whole of it all.

It was a beautiful, sun-filled day, until right around 12:30, when the sky became covered with clouds.  Having the knowledge that it was supposed to storm, my friend and I slowly packed up our things and left.  It wasn’t until we were five minutes from home that the first downpour of the evening occurred: it was short-lived.  The second downpour (the one that drastically dropped the temperature) occurred after I had gotten to the laundromat and lasted well over a half hour.  My friend who owns the laundromat and I stood at the door (I stood just outside it) amazed at the speed and heaviness of the rain.  I stuck my arms out and felt the coolness of the rain falling on my skin.  I even attempted to capture the beauty of it on my phone, but sadly, rain does not photograph well.

After taking a shower, I settled onto my couch with a glass of wine and went to bed early.  Another good thing about spending the day at the beach is that I never have trouble sleeping that night :).

A Restless Night…And a Lesson from Vogue

I believe that one of my very first posts was about my frustration with the fact that I could not fall asleep.  Now, I have had many a bad night since then, but last night rings out as especially awful.  Usually, during those dreaded nights, a huge issue is that I cannot stop stressing and/or thinking about things that are going on in my life at the moment.  This happens to a lot of people I’m sure, however, there comes a point when you should be able to turn your brain off and say goodnight, especially, one would think, after gyming during the day and then yoga-ing at night; well, as it turns out, one would be wrong because that is exactly what I did…and for the life of me, I could not fall asleep.  I actually ventured out of bed and onto my couch with the television turned on; I never do that…clearly, my mind was looking for a distraction.

In the June 2012 edition of Vogue, there was an article that brought to light a recent study on the dangers of sleeping pills and how, they only help you to fall asleep an approximate of twelve minutes faster than if you were to not take them and fall asleep naturally (this, of course, is not one of the so-called dangers, but those still need more testing, so I don’t want to delve into them at the moment).  I laughed at this because; sometimes it can take me hours to fall asleep…although this generally occurs in either one of two situations: one, if I am sleeping at a place that is not my own (this has always been an issue for me since I can remember), or two, if I go to sleep before my body is ready to just pass out.  The latter occurs frequently during the work week, when I have to force myself to go to bed due to the fact that I have to be up at a certain time.  There was also an inset within the article, naming foods to avoid before going to bed (and foods that are a go: yogurt and light grains to name a few).  Among the top three to be avoided were: foods that are high in sodium, foods that are high in sugar and foods that have a high acidity level.  The sodium and the sugar affect your blood pressure, which makes your heart beat faster.  I definitely have experienced lying down to go to sleep and feeling my heart pounding.  Of course I then get nervous about it and start to worry, which makes the pounding worse.  The foods with high acidity can cause indigestion, which can also keep you awake.  There were a few other things on the list, but pretty much, it is better to not eat anything directly before going to bed.  Also, the article discussed caffeine and its half-life, which is the amount of time for half of it to leave your body and, I have to tell you, I was surprised with that one. I didn’t have any idea that caffeine stayed with you for so long.  For example, the article stated that the half-life of caffeine for a person in their early twenties is four hours: meaning it takes around eight hours for it to completely leave.  And that is just for a person in their early twenties.

Now, I do agree that food and caffeine can play a part in keeping a person awake at night, and that most certainly has applied to me, but they are not my frontrunners.  For me, the two main reasons that keep me from sleeping at night are: comfort level (familiarity with a place and its surroundings; i.e. if there are people, how well I know the people, etc) and stress (or rather, as I like to call it, over-thinking). 

A bunch of factors come into play when dealing with comfort level.  Now, before I go into that, let me just go on a limb and say that there are only two places where I feel completely comfortable and can get a good nights’ sleep: my own apartment and my second home in Huntington.  Of course, that does not mean that I always have great nights’ sleep in these places; exhibit A: last night.  When I spend a night anywhere besides at these two, chances are that I will spend a majority of the night tossing and turning while whoever else is with me will be content with slumber.  Okay, now that I think about it, maybe there aren’t that many factors after all, but there are a few.  Familiarity with a specific place: The more times and frequency of my spending a night at a place aides in my eventually sleeping better there.  If I do not feel at all connected with/to a place, I will not be comfortable enough to fall asleep there.  Familiarity with a person: Generally, if I am not sleeping at my place it is because I am visiting a friend, family member, or staying over with someone that I am dating.  In regard to any of those, my being able to sleep depends on how comfortable I feel with that person, how close, how many times I’ve had sleepovers with that person, etc.  There are definitely other factors that play into comfort, but those are my two big ones.

Now…as for stress playing a factor; I am always stressing about something.  Whether it be minor or major, it doesn’t really matter.  What I need to do is learn how to control my mind so that I can shut it off.  So far…my mind wins every time.

Tricks for a Rainy Day

If you are like me, the thought of multiple rainy days in a row leaves you feeling blah…not to mention those allergies that, instead of going away after a storm, only get worse.  If you are like my friend Melissa, however, you rejoice in them.  She loves rainy days and, although I’ve asked her, I don’t think that I’ve ever gotten an answer that would satisfy my question (the downfall of being such a good question asker).  To me, a rainy day equals a day to stay at home and be lazy, to venture out only when and if you want to (possibly without an umbrella to feel the rain on your face), and to be in the company of either a significant other or a close friend.  I find that during the work week, rainy days make me very unproductive (kind of like Mondays or coming back from a three-day weekend).

Normally May is the month where the flowers bloom, the bugs get more prevalent and, more importantly, the spring showers cease.  This year that is simply not the case: we had a very dry April, and March.  In fact, we hadn’t had much precipitation in a long time.  Of course, seeing as how my birthday falls in April and I’ve had many rainy ones (and one snow day), and the fact that we barely had any snow all winter, or a real winter for that matter, I do not mind as much as I used to.  One of the reasons for this is that I’ve developed a rainy day outfit.

The number one thing (besides hair, which also can be fixed) that I hate about the rain, particularly heavy rain, is my feet getting wet and staying wet throughout the day.  There is nothing worse than going about your day with soggy shoes that you cannot take off; it is bound to make anyone miserable.  Clothes will dry (eventually), but shoes tend to stay wet.  This is where rain-boots come in.  For years I was against rain-boots mainly because I thought that they looked ugly; I felt the same way about Uggs too, but once I realized how cozy they were I got over it (I just don’t wear them when I know I’m seeing my uncle).  On a whim, I was looking for shoes about a year and a half ago, and I came across a cute, cheap pair of rain-boots.  I decided to buy them and see what all the fuss was about.  The very next time it rained I wore them and was ecstatic; I could walk right through big puddles and my feet stayed perfectly dry.  I have loved them ever since.  There is only one problem though: rain-boots do not seem to like me.  That first pair lasted me about six months then they cracked straight down the back.  For my second pair of rain-boots, I decided to search the internet and find the one that stood out to me the most.  I ended up spending close to $100 on a brown pair from Michael Kors.  They were taller and heavier than my first pair, but I liked them just the same.  Those lasted about six months too: they cracked in the front at the toes.  For a few months I was discouraged, luckily those months were mostly lacking in the rain department.  I wasn’t sure if it was the way that I was walking in them or just rain-boots in general, although my bus friend has had the same pair for a few years and her’s have never broken on her.  As a last resort, I decided to by a pair of Hunters.  I had avoided these mainly because I’m not thrilled with how they look, but I found the “high gloss” ones a little more tolerable.  They are the most expensive rain-boots that I have bought to date and I wore them for the first time yesterday…let’s see how long these last me.  If they break in six months again I will be convinced that rain-boots hate me.

The second thing that drives me crazy about the rain is pants.  Think about it.  Depending on the material, when you get stuck outside in a shower, the pants may take a long time to dry and then they stick to your ankles.  It is almost as annoying as walking around with wet feet all day.  On rainy days, I don’t wear pants.  Either I wear a dress or a skirt, stockings or bare-legged…trust me, it makes a difference.  Sure, you feel the rain on your legs when you are outside walking around in it, but legs dry much faster than clothes and you will not be sorry. 

My last trick for rainy days is for my hair.  Last summer, which was particularly hot and humid, I found that going back to an old friend really works: a straightening iron.  I had stopped using my straightening iron for two reasons: one is that it damaged my hair (though I think the blow-dryer does more), the second is because it leaves my hair flat…but…flat versus frizzy.  I would take flat over frizzy any day.  Of course today, I did not get to use the iron before I left for work, so my hair is impossibly frizzy :(.

Defying Gravity – Part One

A little over a month ago, my friend Melissa told me about a type of yoga called anti-gravity.  What is it exactly pray tell?  I hadn’t a clue either and, instead of explaining it to me, Melissa told me to google it.  At first I was annoyed with the fact that she would not just explain it to me, but upon googling it, I realized why.  It’s not that it is difficult to explain: you just wouldn’t get the same effect as seeing a visual of it.  In one of my rare moments, I am providing a picture below (there are very few times when I have a picture accompany a post) :).

Anti-gravity yoga, also known as aerial yoga, does in fact take place in the air, on a hammock that hangs from the ceiling to be exact…or so they call it.  (I personally, feel like it is just a piece of fabric.)  Think of the circus.  Think the dancers that climb up long drapes of fabric that are attached to the ceiling and do tricks on them.  Have you got the picture?  While I have yet to take a class, I’m pretty sure that I won’t be doing anything as advanced as that on them…also, I am scared of heights, and although it doesn’t look like you are far up at all, the idea of hanging from the ceiling on a piece of fabric just doesn’t quite seem normal to me. 

I forget why we never ended up taking a class; it could have been because our schedules weren’t matching up, which is quite common with Melissa and I, but in any event, I have resigned myself to take the plunge and take a class (hopefully with Melissa).  The studio that we were going to go to, as it happens, is a lot closer to my place than I originally thought.  I have passed by it many a time and not even realized that it was there…or perhaps I was just not looking for a yoga studio at the time and it was washed away from my memory (there was a time in my life where I denounced ever practicing yoga again…the idea of practicing it is a very recent revelation).  Though the idea of hanging from the ceiling by fabric isn’t exactly appealing (I have never been one to want to bungee jump, although part of me does want to take a trapeze class…and yes, you can take those in New York; Carrie did it on SATC and there are a few places), the unappealingness kind of makes it appealing, if that makes sense.  The last time I can think of that I did anything remotely crazy was almost two years ago when I was vacationing at Lake Tahoe with my mother and sister, and we parasailed.  I was terrified to do it, but I knew that I would regret it if I didn’t, so I pushed myself.  I don’t feel the same fright with anti-gravity yoga, but I am a little apprehensive about it, and it is definitely not in my comfort zone; which means that I have to do it while I still can.  I feel like every once in a while you need to do something that is drastically different from what you would normally do; it’s how we stay alive, how we keep growing.  If we never challenged ourselves what would be the fun in life?

Aside from the hour or so of hanging in the air, anti-gravity yoga is supposed to be a good workout, and it helps your joints decompress, which is another plus.  Unless you are someone who frequents the chiropractor, that doesn’t happen a lot.  I have been to the chiropractor only a handful of times and am not a fan of the back cracking (specifically the neck cracking)…I felt like my neck was being broken off. 

Because of my fabulousness at planning schedules, I will sadly have to wait two more weeks until I defy gravity, but I feel that it will truly be worth it.