pulling into the light

Welcome to what promises to be a beautiful day, chickadees.

NPR has promised me blue skies and 80 degrees, which is more than I could ever ask for at this juncture.

Thanks for showing up when I needed you, Chicago.

Yesterday was a little rough, as all Mondays tend to be, but today’s a new one, and I’m ready for it.

Today I’m light on the meetings, and I’ve only got 10 hours between me and an outing to check out Bub City with my pals after work.

Which pretty much guarantees it’s going to turn out to be a pretty good night around here.

I feel like BBQ pretty much cures everything that ails you.

Right?

Also of note: I might be 300 pages into Divergent, after pulling it out on the train yesterday morning.

If you’re looking for something a little bit Hunger Games-esque, you should probably pick this one up.

I’m not even apologizing for being heavy on the young adult literature lately.

It’s a step up from my binge watching Gypsy Sisters on TLC and watching people upturn their trailer houses in a blind rage.

Although I admit, it does keep me entertained.

It’s all about balance around here, chickens.

Enjoy the sunshine if you’ve got it.

hold me up/wrap me up

Morning, chickadees.

And sorry for soaring right past Monday.

Yesterday was one of those days that I just couldn’t get into.

The fact that it was Monday meant it was already working against me.

Added to it, I was having one of Those Days.

You guys, I don’t know if I talk about my RA too much or too little.

Sometimes I’d rather not bring it up, and sometimes I want to talk about it for an excruciatingly long time, because I think maybe I can just talk it right out of me.

Or make it a joke: check out Nikki, stumbling around like an old person. Just give me a second, I’ll catch up.

It’s manageable, I tell everyone.

And it is. I can still go to yoga and play soccer and lift Tobin and tell jokes and laugh until my sides hurt.

Those are my current priorities.

But sometimes, after a lot of annoying small things (never, chickens, is it just one thing), I get frustrated.

I’ve never been patient, chicks.

RA teaches me I don’t always have a choice.

Sometimes after not being able to wear the shoes I want because my ankles won’t cooperate (you never liked those boots anyway, I lie to myself), or struggling to open a container (and chuckling just a little bit because it’s a prescription pain medication I’m trying to get at) or just moving slow in the morning trying to get dressed, I have one of Those Days, where I decide to feel sorry for myself because I can’t do exactly what I used to be able to do.

And I don’t always feel like sharing that with the world, chickadees, because here’s the thing:

I’m really lucky. I have a husband who can open anything I can’t (I loosened it for you, you know), friends who listen to me babble on about all of my harebrained schemes to cure myself (and hand me Vitamin Shoppe coupons so it doesn’t cost me too much) while I find the right medication, a mom who makes me anything I want gluten free, and joints that still manage to take me where I need to go, even though my immune system insists on attacking them for no real reason.

And so I go to yoga, and I tell someone (all of you) that I’m mad, and I remember all of the above.

And I feel much better about the whole thing.

So today’s not gonna be one of Those Days, chickadees.

In yoga last night, I set an intention to be positive, and so despite the fact that I was sweating so much at the time that I could be counted as delirious, I’m sticking with it.

Enjoy this one, chickens. It’s a beautiful day out there.

 

 

 

telling the story

Morning chickens.

Despite the fact that the weather has cooled off and it looks like rain out there, it’s a Friday, and that’s the story I’m sticking to this morning.

It’s the right story to tell.

Yesterday I was busy running late for an early meeting (early meetings, you guys, are the worst) and blogging for my little sister over here, so I couldn’t make an appearance on my own landing page.

Sorry about that.

In any case, after a long week of adult appointments, meetings and other office-y woes, I’m ready to put my head down, get through this day, and then head to a little Friday evening yoga.

I’ll take 60 minutes of calm any way I can take it, chicks.

Bonus when there’s a good playlist and a head stand involved.

Also tonight: a Cinco de Mayo-esque mini-celebration with my pals involving both Mexican food and tequila.

I can think of nothing else I’d rather be doing to start off the weekend.

The next two days are the last ones before mid-June that aren’t full-to-the-brim with activities, plans, and traveling.

That means a combination of packing, relaxing, and laughing as much as I can.

I’m enjoying every last second of it, chickadees.

Enjoy this one- we’ve hit the weekend!

getting to the best part.

Happy May, chickens.

I saw this splashed all over the internet yesterday, and I believe it’s a good pulse on how happy we are all to head into this not-quite-summer month.

 

Why, yes, JT, it is.

May’s a month of leaves-on-trees, warmer weather, and a sort of remembering place for why we all love living in the beautiful second city.

It doesn’t feel as beautiful when it’s snowing in April.

In any case, here’s to a whole slew of gorgeous, outside-worthy months stretched ahead of us.

I promise not to complain about how hot it is in July.

In the meantime, I’m planning on getting myself outside to enjoy some of this rumored to be 80 degree weather.

It’s not as hard to get yourself where you need to go when it looks like this in the neighborhood.

 

And with that, I’m off for a train ride where I won’t even complain once about slow tracks and bridge construction.

The sun is shining and we’ve made it out of the winter months safely, chickens.

It’s pretty hard to think about something more amazing than those two things this morning.

Enjoy the sunshine if you’ve got it, everyone.

waking with a jolt.

Listen, chickadees.

I love Boston. I love its streets that run in no particular pattern, I love its sports teams, I love its history, I love its people.

This morning, JW woke me up to the crazy news of the lockdown and the mayhem and I’ll be listening to NPR and sending all my good energy in the general direction of one of my absolutely favorite places in the world.

You can’t beat Boston, chickens.

 

Stay safe no matter where you are, my friends.

and hope everything is gonna turn out all right.

People run for a lot of reasons, chickadees.

We run to feel warm.

We run to be healthy.

We run races, I think, to feel like one big community of endorphin energy.

We run because it’s hard, because we’re inspired, because we want to feel so good when we’ve accomplished something.

We run to impress people we have and to remember people who we don’t.

What happened in one of my favorite cities  yesterday at the marathon is in complete conflict with the whole damn point of the world of runners.

I don’t know who hurt all those beautiful bystanders and accomplish-ers.

I do know that those kind of people are few among many, and I also know it doesn’t make it any less tragic, and it doesn’t make me less angry.

In a sort of numb panic, I sent e-mails to the people I loved in that direction, crossed my fingers, and cried a little when I received replies.

I cried more when I realized that for some people, people who were as anxious and worried and breath-holding as I was, replies wouldn’t come.

My God, chickens, sometimes this world is a sad place.

Then, while browsing social media sites looking for more updates that said hey guys, I am okay, I came upon this, and it kept me breathing.

Chickadees, remember that when those explosions went off, people didn’t just run away.

People ran into it.

At the end of the day, I think that most people are engineered down in their bones to run into it.

I’ve seen a lot of chatter about how the world isn’t safe, how anything terrible can happen at any time, and how people are roaming this world just waiting to ruin the rest of us.

But chickens, we’ve always known that.

That’s part of what makes this whole thing so beautiful. We are fleeting, but we are more good than we are bad, we are filled with more love than we are with hate, and people will inevitably start to talk about the helpers and the miracles and all the memories of the people we lost, because as humans, that is what we are built to do.

In the cocoon of tragedy, it’s so easy to forget how strong and smart and amazing we all are.

As runners, as a city, as a country, as a world.

No amount of displaced hatred or violence is going to take that from us.

Let’s run into that today, if we can.

 

getting right into it.

Morning chickens!

And welcome to a brand new week.

Yesterday was a lovely respite in this otherwise still.pretty.bleak spring season that we’re having.

Friday is threatening snow flurries, and I’m really having a hard time wrapping my head around that one.

All this rain better make for one beautiful, green summer.

That is all I can say about that.

However, in the spirit of keeping it positive, and also, you guys, at least it’s not 25 degrees out, I give you the following:

 

It’s good advice, chickadees. And what I have is one lovely weekend complete with condo hunting, sunshine, soccer, bells, celebrations, and dinner with my mom and dad and baby brother.

Also one long, lazy afternoon in which I finished the entire first season of Girls (and yes, it’s my favorite thing), and rifled through old papers and pictures under my bed. Here’s one of the gems I found:

 

Yes, the sweatshirt is awesome.

I know it.

Also found: rules for a happy bedroom written by Jennie and I circa 1995, a letter I wrote my roommates’ when we graduated from college, and original artwork by Aus when he was eight.

Also, a note he wrote me from his second grade class. Of course, original anything by tiny Aus made me burst into tears, because when did he get so old?

In any case, chickens, I have a whole host of beautiful, amazing things that are propelling me into this week with a good attitude.

Despite the rain.

I’ve got an umbrella, after all.

Enjoy this one chicks.

folding into the gray

Morning, chickens!

And welcome to another pouring.down.rain day in Chicago.

It’s pretty much never ending this week, but I’m hoping it means warmer weather is on its way.

I am ignoring that the forecast predicts snow on Friday.

Denial’s not always the worst place to be.

All of the rain is certainly making me a little bit creakier, and so I’m spending this day locked away with my laptop.

You’ve gotta know when to fold a little bit, you guys.

In other news, I spent the entirety of last night watching one million episodes of Breaking Bad but then ending the evening by watching The Mindy Project because honestly, I don’t like to go to bed having dreams of the Mexican cartel.

I’m a little bit of a television sissy these days.

Mindy Kaling makes me laugh my head off, and every time I watch that show, I really just want her to be my best friend.

That’s not weird, right?

Right?

I didn’t think so.

And with that, I’m off to get through a pile of work and a pot of coffee.

Enjoy the sunshine if you’ve got it chickadees- we could use some around here.

 

shake wake break it or quit you

Morning, chickens.

It’s a rainy day over here in the second city.

My hands seem to be protesting the rain, or at least that’s what I’m assuming today’s joints are brought to me by.

Last night, I headed to hot yoga, and when I was signing myself in, my instructor (who is one of my favorite people on this earth) stopped my pal and I and let us know how strong we’d gotten since we started our practice.

Which was music to my ears, chickadees, because one of the most irritating part of my adventure in RA is that I don’t always feel in control of my own body.

I try to remind myself that with my lifelong coordination struggle, I’ve never really had much control over it, but that doesn’t always help when I’m trying to stretch out and just can’t.get.there.

I spend a lot of time looking around the room and fixating on all the things I’d maybe be able to do if my limbs would just listen to me.

Instead though, I spent 90 minutes last night focusing on all the things that I can do, instead of shooting jealous looks at my classmates who make everything seem easy.

And it turns out that while right now I am not the runner of half marathons or the bendiest of yogis, there’s still approximately one millon things I can do now that I couldn’t four months ago.

And so, the thought of the day, from my favorite historical figure, is as follows.

 

Do I wish the treadmill didn’t scare my knees into submission? Of course.

But then, chickens, what if I’d never learned to do a headstand?

enjoying every second of this one.

Morning, chickadees!

It’s a rainy (but warm you guys! Warm!) day in Chicago, and while I am not looking forward to making the trek into work, I am feeling pretty good about the nice weekend I just had.

Lots of time with my pals, babies, and family, and I might just have gotten a couple errands finished too.

It looked a little something like this.

 

After an impromptu Mexican dinner and tequila drinking Friday night with my best pals (no, thankfully, there is no photographic evidence of our fashion show), I spent the entirety of Saturday shrugging off a maybe-hangover while watching Aus play baseball (run baby, run! I yelled at he sprinted around all the bases. After the game, he noted that I had to stop calling him baby. Someone might think you’re my girlfriend, he said. I still don’t know how to take that one from a high school freshman) and hanging with KD and Tob.

Yesterday, it was yoga, errands, more errands, bloody marys with my mom&dad and pals, a surprise sighting of the S family, and then an alarming amount of paperwork for a Sunday night.

Things are happening around here, chickens.

And with that, let’s cycle through another week.