as my parents always said, “if you don’t believe, you won’t receive.”
and with that, we see that christmas magic can be applied year round.
i’m not sure if it’s the tempur-pedic mattress or the fact the she knows i find this to be the cutest thing ever.
either way, she wins.
a flower does not think of competing to the flower next to it. it just blooms.
the “this does not suck” view from our cabin in the mountains of north carolina.
now when someone asks how i’d like my coffee it’s all i can do to not show them this photo and say, “whatever you think would go best with this view and a rocking chair.”
the only thing better than new york city is new york city on a bike. and the one thing getting me through this FUNemployment is cruising through central park only to cut through the UWS for a joyride down the hudson. according to the mister, i’m not quite ready to take on a morning commute. i think it’s only because i don’t have a basket for my bike. he didn’t find that funny.
something we did agree on? every biker girl needs a uniform. red lips and all.
[catch the full round-up here.]
today marks 88 days since my life was catapulted into the mindset of out with the old, in with the new. i’ve been meaning to write to you. but coming to this page makes me feel like i owe you an explanation. and i don’t really have any answers yet.
but i do have some stories. some special moments. a lot of bike rides. more champagne than i want to admit. some sleepless nights, too many sleepFULL days. i can tell you how i stopped running 4x a week. and then i started again. then there was the week i thought my parents would think i was a failure, but then they didn’t. i learned how lucky i am to have friends that never stop listening. and also friends that are forgiving when it comes to unanswered texts and phone calls. and what about a boyfriend who would just as quickly get me on a bike and into central park to let me ride it off as he would pick up a bottle of wine on his way home so i could cry it out. and my poor computer. i know it’s as sick of staring at me as i am staring at it. i mastered the art of using the words thirty years old and laid off in the same sentence without bursting into tears. [!!!!]
more than anything, i’ve learned that one door closing doesn’t always mean another door opens. usually one door closes and smacks you in the face. and after staring at it for a day [that’s all my friends would give me.], you turn around to see a room full of doors. all closed, all waiting on you to find the right key.
if you’re reading this, thanks for coming back. i’ve found the keys and i’m narrowing down the doors. but like most doors in manhattan they’re tricky little suckers. please bear with me. xo