A time for Christmas

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pick up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.
- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

During this season of Christmas, I wish for a time of healing, and a time of laughing, a time of gathering, and a time of embracing. I wish for a time of remembering those we lost, and loving those here. My wish is the same for you.

A thoughtful thought

I felt very alone in high school when my father was diagnosed with cancer. I was afraid of talking about how fearful I was of losing him, fearful of seeming dramatic, fearful that I would look weak instead of strong. As I have grown older, some of the loneliness remains. But I realize now that I am not the only one. A friend lost his mother this week. Another friend's mother began her own battle with stage three cancer. Friend of friends, cousins, brothers, parents, we are all in this together. So I wonder, why do I still worry about what I am going to wear? Why do I find myself fretting over Christmas presents? Who cares that Sam has longer legs than I do? The truth is that at the end of the day, we are all vulnerable and exposed to tragedy. If we allow ourselves to be loved, we realize that we are surrounded by people who care. So during the holiday rush when we get frustrated over long lines and traffic, remember the blessings we have. Reach out to those who need extra support. Write an email, a card, ask them for coffee. They will remember that they are not alone. I know I do.

Weekend update

We were born sisters but have grown to be best friends. What a special weekend we shared. Giggles, chatting about everything and nothing at all. The best part was waking up and knowing they were there. To growing young again with you...thank you for loving me for me.
Happy week everyone!
xxoo

Heavenly Sunday

I went to church tonight. There is a six o'clock service at the church right in my neighborhood. I have been there for many funerals and yet only one other time on my own terms. We go to church for all of the holidays. I went more regularly when I was younger and living at home. But over the years, my church attendance has been anything but angelic. Ever since moving to New York, I never felt tied to a church nor did I actively look for a parish to feel tied to. But something in the air tonight made me miss the quiet reassurance I feel when sitting in the pew. I am allowed to silently confess all of my worries. I ask for guidance on how to be a better person. And I pray for those who are in my thoughts. I give thanks for all of the blessings in my life. And I feel centered with a clearer sense of who I want to be. Tonight was no different. I kneeled and the tears began to flow as I bowed my head. When I opened my eyes and dotted the tears with my sleeve, I looked over and there was the most handsome brunette sitting across the aisle. My prayers were answered. No words were exchanged. Just some smiles. He probably was being sympathetic to the sniffles that I was making. Regardless, perhaps he has a brother? Needless to say, you know where to find me from this Sunday on at six in the evening. Amen.

We remember

Today reminds me. When the work day turns into evening, I am safe. If I have to wait for the bus for twenty minutes, I will sleep in my own bed. If I miss my siblings, I will see them for Christmas and hear their voices when I call them to say so. If I get stuck in the rain and my shoes get ruined, they can be replaced. When I walk home at night, to hear the peacefulness in the hum of the traffic. Today reminds me. For all of the freedoms I take for granted, there are men and women who sacrifice their lives to protect me. Their families courageously wait for their safe return. Today let us remember to continue to honor them every day. For those who are here and for those who have passed, may you and your families feel our strength near or far. You are heroes now and you are heroes always. We remember.

A worn sole is a treasured soul

A wise woman once told me that my destiny was sewn in the soles of my shoes.  Tina said that as long as I wear my own, my shoes will lead me to the path that I am meant to take.  They will tell me when I need to change into something more comfortable or try a pair a bit more adventurous.  They will remind me to stop every once in a while to recognize my blessings in the sheer gift of being able to walk down the street.  Regardless of the label, each pair has a purpose.  Over the years, they have walked through mud and rain.  Some soles may be worn and graffitied with remnants of chewing gum.  But they are saturated with memories.  They know my story.  I have laughed in them, loved in them, and been in pain in them.  Tina inspires me to be true to my soul.  I am reminded to stay present in the flats that I am walking in today instead of wishing I was wearing the four inch pumps that I was dancing in five years ago.  While I may return to those red soled heels in the future, many miles can be traveled between now and then and many dance floors await to be danced on.  Every sole has a story and I hope to embrace each step, pausing to laugh when I trip and cry when I stumble.  Either way, I will pick myself up and keep going.  Tina, from one sole sister to another, thank you for reminding me to fill my own shoes. 

http://www.changingshoes.com/

Labor Day time

I find myself repeating the same phrase over and over these past couple of days but I mean what I say when hardly believing its Labor Day.  June went by and then July and I woke up on August 1st ready for the Summer to begin.  I love the Fall when the air requires me to grab a vest and smells of pine.  The bigger issue I am struggling with is time.  Time.  Never enough and yet there is as much as there ever could be.  I must do a better of job of enjoying the moment.  Labor Day is a perfect time to do this because the day is all about spending one last weekend in Summer mode.  One day to extend the sacred weekend with a short week on the other side to ease you into the idea of Fall.  So enjoy your weekend doing whatever makes you happy.  And when Tuesday morning wakes you up, there is no difference.  We have another day to make special.

My FIRST onscreen debut!

Walking down 55th street this morning, I was met by three men in cargo shorts and t-shirts with wires in their ears. I thought for sure they were undercover secret service, waiting for some diplomat at the swanky hotel on the corner. But then I looked down the barricaded block and saw camera crews, trailers, lights and screens. I was walking onto a real live major motion movie set. I pretended to be completely unfazed by the situation, waiting while every few steps I was greeted by the hand of another stage hand telling me to stop and be silent. I thought, silence? On the streets of New York? You picked the wrong location Mr. Director.  Thank goodness I had worn a good outfit today. But I was looking far from camera ready with my hair in a messy ponytail and my makeup slightly au natural. Oh well - they would have to make it work. I kept going, trying to make the walk to my office building at the end of the block last much longer than it normally takes, just in case, Mr. Director saw me and thought, now she must be in the film. Quick, hair and makeup, run her through her lines, and get her a cappuccino! Well, I was flattered to say the least. But sir, I have to get to work. Nonsense, my agent will call your boss.

"Lady, move!" I was daydreaming. I walked by Mr. Director. I smiled. He looked right through me. Must have been the hair. But hey, soon you may see me on a screen in a theater near you. Look for the arm of a pink jacket in the far corner of the screen. Roll the credits.

Birthday Buddies

Birthdays remind me of how lucky I am to have the family and friends that I do. I am the luckiest birthday girl in the world to have a birthday buddy to share it with. Happy Birthday to us Dad! You are the best present I could have ever hoped for. Off to have some ice cream. Ok, maybe some sprinkles too.

Vivre La France

Can hardly wait until I leave tomorrow...
grand bisous à vous tous!

 

Reunion reality

Last night I had a reunion of sorts with some of my grade school classmates. The evening was an attempt to reconnect with those who live in New York City. Some I had not seen since ninth grade graduation. Some I stay in touch with. Two are still quite close friends. But I was a little nervous to walk into the bar by myself. I had talked myself out of the whole evening the entire afternoon. What was I going to wear? The bar was further than I normally venture from my apartment, on the West side for that matter. I felt awkward going solo (not that I go other places plus one!) and it was pouring rain. Translation, my back was feeling like staying home. And then I remembered the reach. So I showered, put on my uniform of white pants and blue jacket that I wear out at least once a week and hailed a cab.

When I walked in, my good friend A was sitting there and ran to give me a hug. Behind me came a hug from my other friend M who lives in Texas but was in town for a wedding. Hours later, laughs, stories and a couple of shots had been thrown around. By the time I was in the taxi going home, I immediately felt like going back to the bar. Ok - maybe not actually going back. But I wanted more of those nights to continue, with friends who no matter how long it has been since last seeing them, its as if no time has passed at all. Of course, reunions come with some interesting characters who you might never see again other than at the next one. And there are those faces who you have forgotten and names you need reminded. But I was pleasantly surprised at those who did show up. Four guys, who I had been intimidated by in ninth grade and teased me of my hair ribbons, sat around with girls who probably would have been characterized by the "cool" guys in ninth grade as "dorks." And everyone was reminiscing about funny memories and telling stories. We had definitely grown up. Moral of the story to remind myself next time I convince myself otherwise - get in a cab and go, regardless of the outfit, and always be friendly to those whom I have least in common with because ten years down the road, they might be my neighbor.

Reaching for my coffee cup

I was reminded this morning of something that I take for granted. Reaching. Reaching for the coffee cup on the top shelf of my cupboard. Reaching for the ceiling in yoga doing Triangle. Reaching for my dreams. I once was envious of anyone who could reach without hesitation. I now can reach for my mug in the morning without asking someone else to get it for me. I reach and I am aware but not always conscious of the metal in my back that feels like it is being torn away from my spine. That part has become my normal. And I am grateful that I can reach for myself. I am grateful that most of the time my body forgets what living without pain feels like so that I am not reminded. Instead, I work with how my body, my back, feels now.

I get lazy in yoga. My arms sometimes feel jellied from the day and I go through the motion without thinking about opening my heart and lungs. I am lucky to have my arms. They need to reach.

Dreams. Certainly I have them. To write a book. To fit into my skinny jeans. To become a wife of a husband who loves my flaws. To start my own company. To remain aware and never complacent. But I think on a day to day basis, I just get through the day. Routine is comforting and safe for me. But I dream for my future to become more of a risk taker.

I started a blog with a mission. I have failed. My mission was to step outside of my comfort zone, to try new things. In some ways, this blog forces me to step outside of my comfort zone because I share things that sometimes I would keep to myself. Fears that I am ashamed of. Thoughts that I think to insignificant to say aloud. But that is not enough. I need to reach. If I reach, I will without fail, fall. But I would be failing myself if I kept my arms at my side. I wouldn't grow. So, with you as my witness, I will reach for the stars, for the sky, and for the sweater tucked up behind my shoes in the back of my closet. Here goes...

Squeezing fear

Doctors. Needles. Rubbing alcohol. Blood. You would think that these words would scare me. At the very least cause a bit of anxiety. The truth is I now hardly flinch when having blood drawn. The bad news is that my veins are small and hidden. The good news is that they are there. But it takes one experienced nurse to get blood on the first prick. I know exactly what to do - clench fist, pump my hand a couple of times, and then relax. Normally I look away but sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me and I stare at the steady stream of crimson liquid, hopeful that it will be the batch flooded with answers.

Similarly, MRI machines once made me nauseated and completely terrified; I still get claustrophobic in elevators. Now, after 30 MRI's, I can tolerate them without squeezing the panic rubber ball in my hand to alert Jeremy behind the glass window that I must, get, out. Now. I sat for one last week for two hours. That was a record even for me. But I did. I listened to Bach and Beethoven. I tried to relax in between the head brace that was placed to secure my neck from twitching.

Hospitals in the past made my heart race and my stomach lurch. Now, I navigate the hallways without hesitation. I am familiar with everything in the room. Every sound that beeps and signals. I am not afraid. I can even remove an IV line from the pump. When my father was in the hospital last week for back surgery, the only discomfort I felt was seeing him in pain.

Experiencing what I have over the course of the past six years, visiting doctors around the world, enduring surgeries and managing daily life with pain, has prepared me for life's roller coaster of uncertainty. One day I was playing tennis, the next day I was having x-rays and being prescribed narcotics. Now I am back playing tennis - my limit is 20 minutes before I surrender to the stabbing sharpness between my shoulder blades - but I am grateful for those 20 minutes. I took my last pain killer three years ago. And I have conquered some of my fears to the delight of Jeremy who now only has to retrieve me once from the scan tube. I am thankful for where the journey has taken me. I am grateful for getting out of bed in the morning without having someone lift me with a sheet. Walking down the street, I now walk at the same pace as most of my fellow pedestrians instead of 12 paces behind. All that gives my pain away is the tattoo of scars on my back that are visible when in a bathing suit. Plus, when a friend goes for blood-work and they need a hand to squeeze, they know just who to call.

Mummy dearest

She is caring. She is selfless. She is understanding. She is wise. She is opinionated and amusingly normally always right. She is a nurse, a decorator, a CEO and a golf pro. She is patient and persistent to help. She is beautiful. She is humble. She is grace and gracious. She is home. She is love. She is my Mom.

To all of the mother's out there, in every capacity of the word, we celebrate you every day even if no words are said. You are heroines. Happy Mother's Day to all of you. An especially big hug to my own mum...this Bear loves you dearly.

Name Recognition

It may not sound extraordinary. You may wonder why I even think to mention it. But I thought this remarkable. As I was walking to work this morning, I heard my name being called. I thought perhaps I would see a friend when I turned my head. Instead, there was a woman who looked familiar but I was having difficulty placing her. And then I saw her Venti Iced Coffee in her hand and I knew. She worked at the Starbucks I visited every morning at 8am. Now yes, once again I mention Starbucks. And no, I don't live there. But this woman takes hundreds of orders from strangers every single day, and yet somehow she remembers my name, out of context, on the street. Some say that the small town intimacy of knowing your butcher and milk-man have died, replaced by chains such as Walmart and Starbucks. While I agree that mom and pop stores have become memories of the past (and I miss them), people are still people and a name is still the key to connecting on a human level. This woman who sees me every morning and takes my order from behind the counter in her green apron, knows me not just as the woman who drinks Grande Americano's - she knows my name. I wave and smile, embarrassed that I don't remember hers. But I will find out so I can properly say hello back next time we meet face to face at the counter or passing in the street. Remembering a name is a powerful thing. She made my day.

Deliver-ease

I placed my first order with Fresh Direct yesterday. I wanted to see how this virtual grocery store worked. I only ordered cases of my favorite seltzer water, some paper towels and a couple of other bulk items that get heavy if you are trying to carry them through the streets of Manhattan. Last night when I arrived home, everything was there right outside my door. All I had to do was shuffle the boxes inside. While I will continue to have heavy items like these delivered so I don't pull a muscle while crossing the street, I still like the old fashioned task of going to the market. Living in New York City, the world is yours to have delivered. You can survive in your apartment for weeks without having to ever lift a finger - dry cleaning, takeout, someone to walk your dog, an emergency supply of Benedryl - you name it, pay for it and it arrives at your door. I do love that I can arrive home after a long day to dinner arriving just a couple minutes after that. There is comfort in knowing that if I run out of toilet paper in the middle of a snow storm, I can remain in my pajamas. Let's be honest though, I mean I would never run out of toilet paper in the first place because of my lists (remember them?) and because I am just too neurotic about making sure that I am prepared for a hurricane. But on a normal basis, I like being able to do my own errands. There is a satisfying sense of control. I like to pick out my own groceries, see what looks good that day. I like walking into the dry-cleaners and seeing Kim behind the counter who without fail asks me if I found a husband yet (yes, even she keeps up on my love life!) And as a single 20-something female, I sure ain't gonna find prince charming if I become tethered to the delivery system. I mean, you never know who you might run into in the dairy case? So for now, I remain grateful that my favorite neighborhood chicken is just a phone call away but happy to keep the normal foot traffic up.

From list to life

I have always been a list maker. One for groceries. Another for to-do’s. I make them at work and at home. Sometimes they run on for pages. Other times there is only one item scribbled randomly across a neon yellow Post-it. Whatever the reason, my lists reminds me of my goals for the day or week, even if some wait to get crossed off tomorrow or the next day. My lists are always changing even if not everything has been crossed off as priorities shift daily. A list helps me from feeling overwhelmed when life gets crazy or complicated. It also keeps me grounded for when life gets easy and relaxed. Some of you have bucket lists or dreams of what you hope for in the future. Maybe you have written things down or they are floating in your head. I have started my own version that I plan to add to. My life list. Some things seem trivial and others impossible. But nonetheless, they are things that matter to me. I have faith that some will get checked off and I am content knowing that some will remain as numbers on the page. I am a believer in being realistic and practical. But I am also a believer in dreaming big in one's own dreams, whether that is to become an accountant or an Olympic athlete. We must set our standards high and give the most of what we can to what we do. And we must always do what we can to keep life from becoming the same long list that never changes. Otherwise we are just lives filled with lists, waiting to be completed by days end. As a creature of routine, I write this as a reminder to myself. New list.

Door Duty

I was happy to see John this morning as I walked out of the elevator on my way to work. We said our usual pleasantries about the weather and wishing each other a great day while he held the door open for me. While the threat of yesterday's doormen strike loomed over millions of New Yorkers last night, I know everyone was relieved to see their morning routines go on this morning per usual. Some worried about the trash and inconvenience of having to get their food from the delivery man in the lobby. Others couldn't bear the idea of having to fetch their own taxi. Who would watch guard over Milly the poodle in the rain while the Mrs. sat comfortably in the warmth of the lobby? I was not one of these people. I can open my own door, hail my own cab, sort my own trash and collect my own mail. Selfishly, I was a bit worried about security and about strangers lurking in the hallway unannounced which is the reason I opt for a building with a doorman in the first place. My building is no fancy pants palace where everything is done for me, which I prefer. But I rely on the men who sit behind the counter for their smiling faces and corny jokes that greet me no matter if I am grumpy in the morning or tired in the evening. I feel just a little bit safer knowing that they are watching out for me. All in all, the final result was a win-win. The doormen earned a much deserved four year contract with a pay raise and benefits, and the Mrs. can keep her coif from getting wet. I am just happy knowing that the doormen are taken care of because they sure take care of me.

Chatty Cathy?

Why is it that some people feel the need to share everything while others prefer not to? Some think that their day needs to be explained with every detail while others choose a more brief approach with a of couple words. I guess like everything thats what makes relationships balanced - better to have a talker and a listener. I categorize myself more as a listener and an observer. The phone to me is a great form of communication, but I would rather not spend hours on it, disecting a topic. My life is really not that exciting or interesting. I know that is ironic coming from someone who has a blog...maybe that is why I have a blog. Writing allows me to say what I hesitate from saying out loud, for fear it is irrelevant or boring. No one has to read my thoughts (other than my family of course!) or pretend to be listening when they are really wanting to look at their blackberry. Which brings me to another point, blackberries. I was out to dinner the other night with a close friend who I had not seen in a while. I was looking forward to catching up in person. She on the other hand, had better things to look at on the screen in her lap.Throughout dinner, she was constantly texting. She wasn't quickly checking for a brief instance or apologizing for her actions, but spent minutes at a time looking down and not responding to me. I nearly through my napkin across the table but restrained myself. It seems to me that we have gotten the whole human connection backwards. When we are with people, we are distracted by texting and facebook status messages, and while we are alone, we are busy organizing the next time getting together while looking at pictures of the latest mutual friends wedding. I am not pretending to be above any of the former, but I do think that we are mixing up the idea of being "friends" with what it means to be a friend. And as for the chattiness? Well, I guess I'd rather have chats when together than chats apart - as long as the blackberry use is minimal!

Longing for Lulu

If you have not been introduced to Lulu Lemon but see her with the likes of women of all kinds and been wondering why she is so popular, you better just go meet her to find out for yourself why she is so special. She always makes you feel good about yourself, no matter what you look like. She is supportive and forgiving, flattering and encouraging. On days when nothing feels right, she makes you look good. You can take her anywhere - dinner, the gym, shopping, even to bars. She has no limits. When you work out with her near, you feel inspired to do one more lunge and while doing eagle pose she gently reminds you to keep your tummy in. Whether you are feeling fitter than Lance Armstrong or a bit guilty after a late night pizza, she doesn't judge. She will change your life.

What's your soundtrack?

I took my second walk in the Park yesterday of the season and overnight, Spring has arrived. The flowering cherry blossom trees line the bridal path in a candy land of pink sprinkles that makes it hard to believe Mother Nature creates such beauty. Everyone has come out of hibernation in the blink of an eye and put on their shortest shorts no matter the thigh size. Walking along, IPOD in hand, I notice everyone around me running or walking to the soundtracks of their life. I wonder what they are all listening to. Sometimes I think life would be so joyous if we all broke out into song or dance throughout the day...a musical of life. People groove past me and I quicken my stride to the sound of Beyonce. I notice three women power walking, or attempting to, who are laughing about something that "Susie" did at work. Ahead of me, a little girl is learning how to ride a two-wheeler while her father assuredly holds the back of the bike. I look right and a couple is taking baby in carriage for an evening stroll. I am a hopeless romantic but this is just ridiculous I think to myself. I feel like I am in a movie - cue the birds to come sing on my shoulder and tie my hair in a ribbon. Its amazing what fresh air, sunshine and a warm breeze can create. I just cooked dinner while shaking my hips to "Its Raining Men". Who cares what the neighbors might say?

Listen to the soundtrack in your head and let the sun shine in...

Of Bunnies and Eggs

My Easter bonnet is packed and tomorrow I am heading to the train to go home for the weekend. I am excited that this year the weather is supposed to actually feel like Spring. I thought I would share a couple of reminders for this Easter:

1. We all love the chocolate bunnies and candied eggs that somehow appear within reach. Enjoy each one but don't put any in your pockets for later - chocolate and body heat do not coexist well. Your washing machine will thank you later.
2. Let the spring weather inspire you to bring out the bright colors but remember what you say when the scrap book is pulled out of Easters past - plaid, florals and polka dots all in bright colors worn together still looks like the '80s.
3. Be nice to your relatives, even those whom might get a bit to close inside your personal space - some day that will be us.
4. Dye eggs, make an easter egg hunt or do the bunny hop - we are never to old.

I am missing those who are a bit too far to hop home (you know who you are) but you remain near in my heart. As Good Friday welcomes the Easter weekend in, this Bear wishes you a hippity hoppity happy Easter.

Fed-Ex Follies

I spend some time at a Fed-Ex/Kinko's four blocks away from my office, using only the Kinko's counter as we can Fed-Ex directly from our office. But there are certain things that Kinko's can produce that requires me to visit the purple walled space. I have learned, after repeat visits in one day, to come prepared with all tabs marked and very strict instructions as to what needs to be done, getting everything down to a smooth science so I can walk out twenty minutes later with my final products in arm. They always greet me with smiles and somehow remember my name (although they call me my boss's name because that is the name in their system and I just have never corrected them...I sometimes forget though and look at them blankly before remembering). Since I began going there months ago, I have often been amused by the lack of inefficiency of having employees who are not entirely trained to ship packages work for Fed-Ex and employees of Fed-Ex trying to work a printer. To make the experience even more comical is the customers inability to work within the confines of the system, often ending in a tantrum because they need their 1200 page prospectus bound immediately or their cats photograph laminated within five minutes or else! Lines form, six employees stand in the back trying to stare anywhere but into the restless eyes of those who wait and no one knows where anyone is to help with Fed-Ex. I laugh only because there is really nothing else to do and I can't help but wonder what is going on behind the counter. The aproned employees look frenzied but are not actually doing anything. When I finally do get to the counter, my friend who knows exactly what needs to be done, disappears on her lunch break and I am face to face with the "new" guy. Needless to say we had a lot to go over. 

Hours later, two mix-ups and many smiles to try and rush the process along, I left to return to my office relieved that I had time to package the proposals up and hand them off to Fed-Ex. I double checked to make sure all of the books were perfect and then noticed the last one had tabs in all of the wrong places. HOW. DID. THIS. HAPPEN? I laughed. It was just not my day. Back to Kinko's I went and they knew right when I walked through the doors that they had messed up. I had a choice right then - to huff and puff and make a scene saying how incompetent they were or I could just politely say that there must have been an honest mistake while they had been rushing to get the order finished for me. While I stood waiting and the line grew shorter and shorter, I found myself smiling once again. The "new" guy let out a relieved sigh when I approached and he saw that I was giggling. I left with a perfectly tabbed proposal five minutes later. Today was one of those days that the stars were not aligned and instead of fighting that, I had to be amused. While tomorrow I may burst with irritation for the same thing, I felt happy walking home today. Life is to short not to see the folly in the imperfections and to love even the days where you step in a puddle.

Please remind me of this the next time I am in a panic of frustration...until then, I remain always and ever, thankful.

Bear 

Umbrella to go

As a shorter New Yorker, when the rain comes, so too comes the anxiety of having to navigate with an umbrella. One would think that the shorter you are, the easier it is to dodge in and out of the sea of nylon coverings above. The truth is however, if you are taller, your umbrella hangs above everyone else and you can at least lift your arm up to further the height of the looming contraption. Short equals umbrella being level with normal height pedestrians heads - even lifting my arm only helps poke them in the eye. I carry a small and compact umbrella that takes up only what is supposed to be my "personal" space. But living in New York, there is no invisible bubble protecting anyone from anything. I do giggle as I open my umbrella and notice that next to me, two men are struggling to open their space-ship size golf umbrellas. Maybe I should just ask where they are going and tag along underneath their movable awning. That would save me from getting a lot of snide remarks and evil looks as I politely try to maneuver along the sidewalk. I could also enjoy my Starbucks with my free hand along the way.

Happy puddles.

Kiss me I'm Irish...

Well, part Irish, part Scottish to be exact. On this St. Patrick's Day, I am not one to hit the pubs, dress in green and frolic in the streets while the parade passes. Seems to me to be just another Americanized holiday to throw down beers and act ridiculous. Not to be a negative Nancy, but its just not my thing. But for those of you who do love the day, I hope you have the best one yet. Whether you are a fan or not, who can pass up a rainbow with a pot o' gold and good luck?

Cheers from this Bear.

Sunshine

Even the word makes me smile. Thank goodness the sun has finally come out today. Those rainy day blues were hampering my excitement for Spring. Now if only there was a beach to sit on...

Happy sunshine wherever you may be!

Wedding wonder

The bride was breathtaking from beginning to end, her groom dapper from head to foot and their love for one another felt by every eye. The bouquet was caught, the dress worn and lovingly wrinkled, and the veil returned to its box. The rose petals were thrown, the band well enjoyed and exhaustion felt. Toasts are words remembered and tissues are still needed. During the magic created by the most talented I know, all was perfection, with some fun filled hiccups along the way keeping the moment from getting to staged. The time together with family and friends remains the most precious, hanging grass skirts and looking across my mothers shoulder as she delicately pondered seating being some of my most favorite memories.

Happy honeymoon!

Something borrowed, something blue

I am off to my oldest sister's wedding and I can hardly believe that what has been planned on paper and in minds for months is here. The bride and groom will soon say "I do" surrounded by people who adore them  and who relish in the happiness that exudes from the two of them. Everything will be beautiful, every detail thought of from begin to end. And I can't wait to share in the joy. This little sister could not be more excited!

Four Eyes

You may notice some typos - my apologies but I can hardly read the screen. I am fresh back from getting my eyes checked and dilated, my first eye doctor visit in, gulp, ten plus years. I will soon be sporting a new accessory: glasses. Maybe they will make me look more intelligent? Perhaps more serious? Or maybe down right ridiculous. At least I can sport them in the office where glasses translate into sophistication and smarts, let's hope. If I look anything like I did when I wore red glasses when I was a little girl than we may have a problem...remember when I wrote about no judging store windows under construction? Here's to getting older, eyes and all.

Personal Shopper

A wise woman once told me to mind the window dressing of a store when the windows are under construction. The dresses and shoes inside could still be just what you are looking for. At the very least, browsing will allow you to know what is out there. Just remember to have fun. Who knows, maybe you will be surprised.

Snow Mass

The snow is falling outside my window and I am longing for the mountains of Colorado. When school vacations were still relevant, goggles, turtlenecks, neck warmers and snow pants were filled into duffle bags and my family would head out west for two weeks on the slopes. Chairlift rides were filled with singing and giggling, competing with cousins on who had the best voice. Eyes would twinkle and cheeks rosy at the end of the day from the exhaustion of conquering the days moguls while the plethera of colorful parkas wooped with delight below. Those were the days before cell phones and blackberries, when we were totally immersed in the adventures of the days surrounded by the people who matter most. I promise to return soon.

King of Hearts

This Valentine's weekend may you shower yourself with cheery splashes of pinks and reds, surrounded by love of all kinds.

Hugs and love to you from this bear.

Brother bear

I remember having him yell my name from the sidelines and then quickly lose interest to play with his Tonka truck. I could easily pick him up then and perch him on my hip. He would come out on the field after the game and I would play catch with him only 3 feet away. Then, his hand nestled in mine as a crowd of my friends approached to say how adorable he was with his bowl haircut. Now, I am the one on the sideline, relishing in the excitement of high school competition. I yell "Go Gator!" as he runs around the court. I am amazed by his athletic ability and team member status of Captain. I am no longer just his big sister who used to cut his steak into bite sized pieces and read him "Good Night Moon" before bed. Now I cheer him on as an equal. He is my little brother and my big brother and my friend. I couldn't be prouder.

How fun would this be?

Happy Birthday Norman Rockwell! Your legacy of moments captures a timeless reminder of the good things in life...

February fun

Oh the start of a new month, one that is only 28 days long. I am beginning this month with a new book. In honor of the late J.D. Salinger's passing last week, I am drawn to his legendary Catcher in the Rye. Having not read the novel since 9th grade, I am looking forward to a new read of an old classic. I also want to go ice skating before the spring arrives...any takers? Requirement - they must be able to laugh while skating backwards holding my hands as I have not skated since the Skating Club, circa 1998. Finally, Jack Bauer is back tonight. Tick - tick - tick. What a great way to begin a new week and a new month. This bear reminds you to have a little fun this February!

What is black and white and gray all over?

Politics. Yes, that's right. I am talking about Republicans vs. Democrats, the Left vs. the Right, Conservative vs. Liberal. After watching our President speak last night about job creation, tax cuts for small business owners, and holding Republicans more accountable for stronger leadership, I seem to be even more confused about the union of our state. I feel like I am being asked to fill out a survey where none of the answers fit the description I would chose exactly. I would like to take a part of one question and a part of another question and combine them to make my answer. As a registered Republican, I am less worried with having the right answer - fitting into a, b, or c - and more interested in what will be best for our country. I realize that "best" is subjective. I realize that as a Republican, I am meant to want less Government oversight and regulation. But to be honest, I am sick of being limited to what a Republican is "supposed" to believe in. I am tired of watching our leaders reprimand each other for the side of the aisle they sit on. I probably sound as though I want everyone to hold hands and sing "Kumbaya" but I am not naive. Disagreement and challenge are necessary and vital to keep power in check and our democracy thriving. I propose however, we quit arguing over what it means to be Republican or Democrat and start acting on good morals and values. Perhaps d is the right answer, all of the above. Lets make gray the new black.

It's a bird. It's a plane. It's on fire?

Smoke. Electrical friction. The smell of plastic burning. These are not what you want to experience at 32,000 feet in the air in a metal bird. But I did. Thankfully I survived to tell you the story.

I was on my way back from one of my most favorite places on Earth after a perfection of a vacation. The plan was to take off from Nice, France and fly directly to JFK. An hour into the flight, I had changed into my sweatshirt, ordered  "It's Complicated" and was enjoying the warm selection of almonds and cashews when flight attendants began acting the way you hope they never do - running through the aisles talking to each other in hush tones while ignoring any semblance of composure that they were trained to keep. As a nervous flyer in general (I have gotten much better compared to my younger self who gasped at any bump of turbulence), I immediately knew that the smoke filling the cabin was not part of the nine hour flight. The captain came on the PA system and told everyone to stay calm, ordered the flight attendants to take their seats, and explained to us in a Xanax-calm voice that we were making an emergency landing in Paris due to some electrical problem. He assured us that he could still fly the plane even after he shut down all of the electronics. Great, I thought. I was seated in 1G and so luckily was sheltered from the mass hysteria that was wafting behind me or I too would have collapsed. My seatmate in 1F had reclined all of the way before the electrical shutdown and so he appeared to be sleeping through the whole fiasco, although in reality he was praying. I began to say my prayers, trying to breath through the firing of engines that roared as we came into a full dive for the runway. My stomach was on the floor. I have never felt so much force in a landing in my life - there was no possible way we could land at the speed we were going. No way. We were going to crash. God bless my family. I was about to write a text message telling them I loved them when I realized my phone was in the overhead compartment. Shoot. I went back to praying. God bless Mommy and Daddy...and then we were on the ground. I opened my eyes, held onto the wall in front of me as I was propelled forward, the seat belt cinching my waist but not much else. I noticed fire engines were chasing us on either side down the runway. I wasn't sure we were going to be able to stop. But we did. My body relaxed back into the seat and my lip started to quiver.

After the emergency response team checked the body of the plane for traces of fire (we were clear) we taxied to a staging area where we waited until engineers came aboard and came to the conclusion that they needed to evacuate the plane in order to diagnose the problem. You don't need to be an engineer to figure that one out! I happily got off to a waiting bus that read on the ticker in the front "San Francisco" - not sure what that was about but considering the day so far, I felt like I was in the twilight zone. We proceeded to security. We had to go back through in order to get to gate 36 where we were told to await further instructions. But the security team noticed the tickets reading: Nice to JFK and told us we were in the wrong airport. Uh - hello? It's called communication. There were 250 people with the same ticket, who had just gotten off a smoking plane. After much bantering, a few screaming exchanges, and 30 minutes of waiting, management came over and let us through. Shoes off, jacket off, jewelry off - I should have worn my footed pajamas.

Without an international cell phone, I used the phone card my brother had handed me hours earlier in case of emergency. "Sal, take it. Just in case you get stuck." How did he know? Tears filled my eyes as my Mom's voice came through the heavily bacteria-lathen phone. I wish I had packed disinfectant wipes. I assured her that I was fine and that we were on standby until further notice. Hours later, after I had visited every shop in the Charles de Gaul airport (they have fantastic shopping by the way) and walked for what seemed like miles, I returned to gate 36 where they were handing out free sandwiches. This can not be a good sign, I thought. So back to my walk I went. Another hour went by and I noticed a fellow passenger walk by who kindly alerted me of the good news. They were boarding in 20 minutes! Well I was delighted and concerned. Did I dare get back on that plane that was filled with smoke hours earlier?

I did. I returned to my seat where my friend the flight attendant had freshened my water and greeted me with a sympathetic smile. "Everything is safe and fixed. You need not worry." I smiled back and nodded. We took off without my seat mate who had decided to abandon ship and fly Air France. I settled back and turned on "It's Complicated". We were flying smooth. I napped and had lunch. All was well.

Until we hit Maine and then the heavens which we were in turned angry. The flight attendants were instructed by a worn-off-Xanax first officer to stop service at once and take any open seat. We were in the middle of a storm. My once turbulent-fearing self returned as I gripped my seat, the side of the plane, and my blanket. We tossed around in the sky with sounds of glasses breaking in the galley. Perfect, I thought.

When we landed in New York applause erupted throughout the cabin. Even the flight attendants were cheering. I nearly kissed the pilot as I got off. But not so fast. My smooch would have to wait. We sat on the tarmac for an hour and a half, sans AC. No gate. NO @%$#%! GATE?! I envisioned myself having a mental breakdown right then and there. Headline, "Girl goes crazy after near death experience in the heat of an airplane!" Nope. I would breath and I would wait.

As I opened the door that night to my sweltering apartment, I melted to the floor in happiness. And then I turned the AC on full blast.

Sunday Showers

A shower of presents, a shower of laughter and a shower of friends who watch with delight as they relish in the happiness that shines throughout the room. Memories of childhood flood back while your sister opens her presents with "Hear Comes The Bride" playing softly in the background. Wonderment fills the heart as you have been thinking about this moment since you were a little girl and can't quite believe that you are old enough to have a brother-in-law. Wisdom comes with challenge and strife, as long as it is balanced with giggles. Cry while laughing and laugh while crying, especially surrounded by those you love. Tomorrow is around the corner, Sunday being the yawn before the rush of the week. May we remember the cherished times of the weekend and showers of special moments.

Sweet dreams from this Bear.

TTYL

BRB. TGTBT. LOL. BFF. If you don't understand a word or letter I just wrote, you're not missing anything. We, myself included, have gotten lazy with the whole abbreviation thing. I mean, am I really that busy to actually write a proper letter in an email form? No. Does typing four more letters to finish a word hurt my fingers? I don't think so. Faster and more efficient, email has changed how we communicate and speak. For the most part, I am a big fan. However, I must admit when I open my mailbox (my actual snail mailbox in my apartment building) and see a letter with handwriting on the front, my day gets better. The writing and sentiment comes through the prose with much more meaning. While email is here to stay, I will make an effort to stop butchering the English language and send more hand written notes. Sound perf?

TGIF - I said I would make an effort, not change entirely...happy weekend!

Resolution or Evolution?

Needleless Christmas trees line up on the sidewalk graveyard, reminding pedestrians that holiday indulgences are over. The gyms are packed. Commercials are advertising diet friendly meals. Magazine covers are promising 10 days to a flatter stomach. Facebook is twittering with status updates proclaiming that your friends are cleaning out their junk drawers and forgoing that extra glass of wine on Tuesday nights for yoga. Come March all will be back to normal making me rethink the entire meaning of new year’s resolutions. January seems to be awkwardly filled with empty promises to becoming a "new" you. How about though all of the good things of the old you? Instead of setting up huge promises that will become Post-Its of the past, why not look to January as a good time for evolution? I think awareness and most importantly, self awareness is the key to living your best life, evolving into your best self with each year. Instead of trying to do that all at once in January, getting overwhelmed, bored, and craving a Twinkie, why not do that throughout the year in a gradual pace? If anything, maybe we will all transition better into the long month of January without the crankiness. Here's the good news, evolving or not - Valentine's Day is right around the corner (hello...chocolate?)

The Daily Caller

Good family friend Tucker Carlson has just launched his new website called The Daily Caller and I have to say that I am most impressed! Primarily a news site with original editorial and even an advice column, the bright graphics will keep your eyes from getting bored while your mind is stimulated with a plethora of content. This bear highly recommends checking it out right now.

A decade of difference

Six days have already gone by in January. Wow. 2010. I remember when the Millenium came and I could not even fathom writing 2010 on my letter head. So here we are now and I don't feel much different. Or do I?

I am still 5'2'' (although I grew 1/2 an inch post surgery), my hair is still chesnut in color and shoulder length, I still love watching a good movie by the fire, and I still miss the smell of home. The baristas in Starbucks still know me (now in New York too!) Not much has changed on the frightened list: elevators make me nervous, turbulence on the plane makes my stomach jump, and blind dates make me anxious in a good way.

Additons. I live alone in an apartment in New York. I have graduated from College (even though it took me seven years). Who knew I would be working on Park Avenue? I am shall we say, requiring a bigger bra, love wearing heels, and wear my hair down for a change. Now I appreciate yoga (took ten years to feel this way) and use the time to breathe without competing with my fellow yogi. My back is now split in half by a scar and five of those ten years I have lived with pain. Doctors have become part of my personal Christmas card list and I know now that I can withstand pain that most would faint from. I am stronger both in will and in belief.

2010. Another year as myself and another year of growth. Maybe I'll finally have a growth spirt - not likely but who knows, I have been known for stumping docs. This year I vow to honor each day as a new day, live in the moment without concern for control, giggle a lot, and give more service to those less fortunate than me. I strive to find and pursue those things that make my heart sing.

For you, I wish for blessings of good health, joy and love for all aspects of your universe.

- Bear