Creeping Beneath the Ranunculus

After moving 10 times in 7 years (I KNOW), sinking my teeth into a real home was something I craved. I found a little apartment I loved and painted the walls and hung up paintings.

After graduating with a degree in magazine journalism when the journalism industry (hell, really every industry) was in such a state of decline, reaching my 4-year anniversary with my company became a huge source of pride. 

I am grateful for these things that give me a routine to fall back to. I just don't want them to become all I am.

A while ago, when I was about 25, I’d always ask a friend of mine how his day was. He is about eight years older than me, and he’d always answer with “Same old, same old.” This irritated me to no end.  I wanted details, no matter how mundane.

And now some days I find myself doing the same thing.

People: “What’s new?”

Me: “You know, same old.” Same job, same apartment, same dog, [mostly] same friends. Sure, I’ve picked up new hobbies here and there, and I’ve visited new places. Our offices moved, and hey, that’s new, right?

I read this passage the other day.

“Adults follow paths. Children explore. Adults are content to walk the same way, hundreds of times, or thousands; perhaps it never occurs to adults to step off the paths, to creep beneath rhododendrons, to find the spaces between fences.” -- Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at The End of the Lane

More times than not, I let the comfort of routine seep into my bones. When really, my heart cries for adventure. I’m happiest when, like this weekend, I’m hopping aboard a train for a day trip. Or when I’m waking up in a new city. Or biking down a new street. Meeting new people. Trying new food. Learning new things. You get the point.

Sure, I like to go home to my same apartment and same dog and wake up the next day and go to my same job.

May I always remember to cling to some of the adventurous spirit I had as a kid. The one full of hope, imagination and a feeling that the world would catch me. May I never become the adult content to walk the same path over and over again. Let’s creep beneath the rhododendrons. Or maybe the ranunculus, in my case. They’re my favorite, after all.

Welcoming Home

Not just generic poster prints or pillows from Pier One, but tokens that capture the essence of my life and heart. Music that makes people smile. A lit candle with a comforting scent, its single small flame licking the air clean. A kitchen full of freshly picked limes ready to be squeezed into cocktails or zested over bowls of berries and cream. A crusty baguette to be placed on a cheese plate, beckoning to the unexpected but oh-so-welcomed guest or waiting to be made into a quick sandwich.

Friends and Webster on a random Wine Wednesday months ago

And there they are: the defining principles of my home, a thoughtful space meant to absorb me into it, where I can check worries at the door and allow others to do the same. Where people feel comfortable and safe and loved. Especially on the days where the world has gotten to them.

Lately, the world has gotten to me. And not altogether in a bad way. But my floors aren’t clean. (One might blame this partly on the three small kids who recently filled my place with laughter and sand after a day at the beach.) I have extra furniture cluttering the space, waiting to be picked up to be put to use by my little brother. There is a big box of homemade jams, awaiting labeling, sitting on the floor. The point being, my home is not spotless these days.

I could come up with countless excuses as to why I shouldn’t host friends for dinner until I have time to sweep and mop. Instead, I just reminded myself my friends care more about laughing and drinking and eating than my clean floors.

I invited them over for some summertime fare. I didn’t want to heat up the house too much, so I did some salads and sandwiches and finger foods. Simple stuff, because it’s what’s important anyway. And I lit a candle, and played some Spotify, and zested limes over bowls of berries and cream.It was a good night, and by the end, I didn't even remember my floors weren't clean. Although the wine might've helped with that a bit.

Here's what I served:

Rosemary Marcona Almonds, goat cheese, syrah-soaked Toscano, homemade peach lavender jam

Crab salad on Belgian endive

Turkey tea sandwiches with arugula aioli

Creamy avocado salad, a real winner

Limoncello mascarpone cream and berries

Sure-Footed

I went for a hike alone. This past Sunday, I needed some time by myself. I needed to clear my head, to breathe my own air and think my own thoughts. I needed to get away from books and TV and the Internet and my phone and just process the events of the week without any influence over my thoughts but my own.

The shallow "waterfall" at Temescal; the mark of a dry year?

I drove up to Sunset Boulevard, parked my car across from Temescal Gateway Park and walked up the hill. For hours. And then back down.

Four years ago I would never have thought to hike alone. As silly as it sounds, I was scared of the idea of hiking in general. Not scared for my life. Scared that I’d not be in shape enough to hack it or that I’d take a misstep and end up with a skinned knee. I did not trust myself. I did not trust my body.

A hike didn’t seem like something I wanted to do for fun.

Back then, I had this friend. She was older and braver than I was by a long shot. When she caught wind of the fact that I was scared to go for real hikes, she got on my case. She was indignant: I was going hiking with her. And so the next time she invited me for a morning hike, I didn’t tell her I wanted to sleep in (which was true!) or that I had something else to do. I just showed up at her doorstep.

Her brown pit bull pup jumped into the back seat, far happier than I was for the impending hike.

We drove up to Mandeville Canyon (not a very steep hike at all), and I took a deep breath as I got out of the car. This wasn’t so bad, I thought. Not so bad at all. But my friend, well, she was seasoned.

And about a half foot taller than me. She and Daphne Dog eventually left me in the dust. I was not sure-footed.

Slowly, I climbed that hill. We hiked more and more after that. Then I began hiking with other friends, too.

Eventually, I learned that being sure-footed wasn’t so much about talent or natural-born athleticism. It was simply about finding the balance between where to place your next step and being confident about it as you step there.

Besides, taking the wrong step doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll fall. It might just mean you better be ready to stick your other foot on some solid ground really fast. And even if you do trip a little, who cares? Maybe you slide down that hill a little bit and get a skinned knee. That will heal. Most things do with time. Other things do not.

It’s important to know the difference.

On Sunday, I hiked and I remembered this friend and her influence on me. The world had unexpectedly lost her the week before. For this reason and more, I felt heavy and my mind felt blurry.

I left the trail to get a better view of a bluebird (you don’t just see those in this city) and had to really climb to get there and back safely. But as I did it, I knew I could. Even though the dirt was sliding out from beneath my feet, I made it safely back to the trail.

As I walked, my heart felt lighter. I hummed the songs in my head, and I stopped to admire the colors of the leaves and rocks and flowers around me. I remembered some of the things I love about myself and my life, the things that seemed forgotten or brushed aside in the fury of the week.

And I planned my next steps. I am sure-footed.

Now or Never

The bright moonlight shone through the tall trees and lit up the road in front of me as I whipped my little Honda Accord around the streets of Redding, Calif. I was a naïve college freshman, and those streets would be the last for the little Honda That Could [Not Always].

But at that moment, on this brisk night, I didn’t know the same streets would soon be the death of the little car. All I knew was that when Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life” came on the radio, I sang loudly along and felt every word.

I had been feeling like an imposter in my own life lately. I had questions about faith and love and social issues and politics that were not OK to ask at my conservative Christian school. I didn’t even know how to form the questions. I had dreams that did not align with finding a husband or becoming a missionary. But I didn't know how to get out of there without seeming a quitter.

Days later, the car’s frightening and untimely demise would give me cause me to flee that city, school and life as I knew it. I didn’t suddenly give up on the young God-fearing girl I was at the time, but I knew I’d need to make my own path either way. And for the most part, I have.

It’s been nearly 10 years since then. I’ve grown up. I’ve chosen a city, an outlook, a lifestyle and a group of friends, all of which I couldn’t have dreamt up if I tried. I am so, so different from the girl who sang along to Bon Jovi one night and then accidentally hydroplaned her car into a tree a few nights later. (OK, so it was a tree and a telephone pole. Details, details.)

Last Friday, one beer in each hand, I stood next to my best friend in a stadium with tens of thousands of people watching Jon Bon Jovi on stage. And I heard him sing the words to the song that had been the soundtrack to my inner revolution. “This ain’t a song for the broken-hearted. No silent prayer for the faith-departed.”

I watched the tens of thousands of people in the Staples center sing along, my heart full of gratitude. At that moment there was no place I’d rather have been, nothing I’d rather have been doing with my life. On one side, I had a friend who loves me enough to think to surprise me with Bon Jovi tickets for my birthday. Two more friends dancing and laughing beside us. And the iconic Jon Bon Jovi performing yards away. It was a magic moment.

The lyrics to that song still ring true for me. But instead of inciting an inner revolution, they bring to mind an ever-growing challenge. It’s my life – it’s now or never.

I choose now. 

Post-Gym Beauty: Overcoming Excuses

Hi friends,

I recently shared a little about the Gunnar Challenge over on my friend Alyssa's weight loss blog. Well, now that the challenge is over, I've faced the next challenge: maintaining this level of fitness without the LIVESTRONG.COM group to help me out.

I've been working out an average of four times a week since, and I wrote about my new and streamlined approach to beauty for FearNoBeauty.com. If you want to read more about my fitness journey or just to get some tips on post-workout beauty routines, check it out!

Oceans of love,

J

Oh Happy Day

Today is the National Day of Happiness. I love these superfluous little holidays, because they give us a reason to celebrate an otherwise ordinary day. (National Pie Day, anyone?!)

Every day should really be a practice in celebrating happiness (or pie). This whole blog has featured my happiness or lack thereof in some cases. I figured instead I’d focus today on some of the people who make me happy, and what makes them happy. It’s a full circle, it seems, as most of them cited spending time with loved ones as the thing that makes them happiest.

And so here you have it, the things that bring happiness to the people who bring me happiness:

“I’m happiest when I am contributing to a cause that matters to me, whatever it may be.” – Grace, the middle Dewey, teacher and wise soul

“Observing intellectual/educated policies and thought defeat anti-intellectualism and willful ignorance in pubic (sic) discourse. And, of course, puppies.” – Liz, the Cornell grad student

“Lots make me happy, like being with the people I love, good wine and traveling, but I’m most satisfied and truly happy when I’m growing in every aspect of my life and not being stagnant or complacent.” – Sarah, the publicist/event planner extraordinaire

“I get happy when I get a text message from a guy I hoped would text me. (Lame, but true.)” – Soco, social worker

“Happiness is waking up on a Saturday morning to a clear, crisp day knowing you can spend it with the ones you love, going to the beach or going on a bike ride.” – Emily, the Cal Poly student and always-happy little Dewey (We Deweys love our bike rides.)

“Knowing that I can brighten someone’s day by helping them makes me happy.” – Alexis, high school student (and future fashion designer!)

"Happiness, for me, is walking my dog. That, and doing something for somebody else." -- Stacey, TV superstar

“When doctors write prescriptions of Feriva and also when pharmacies stock it!” – Katie, pharmaceutical sales rep and my adventure partner

"Seeing my son's eyes light up when I enter the room makes me happy."-- Bev, amazing mom of my favorite little boy

“Happiness is when I’m surrounded by people I love. That’s it.” – Kate, fashion designer

“Helping people.” – Jess, occupational therapist

“A table of my favorite people with dinner and wine.” –Mandy, UCLA public policy grad student/talented private cook

A Matter of Time

Had I not bailed on my Saturday night plans (sorry, Jill!) I would've missed this.

It was on the drive back from a very impromptu weekend trip with one of my closest, oldest friends. We had dropped everything at 5 p.m. on a Saturday night to take advantage of an unexpectedly luxurious (and free!) weekend getaway. And in the car the next day as we moved along the Pacific Coast Highway back toward L.A., she said, “I’m just surprised you didn’t have plans and were able to get away this weekend.”

Me? Not have plans? Please. I plan in my dreams, and she knows it. “Oh, I had to bail on my plans last night,” I told her. And though I’d felt a little guilty, one doesn’t just pass up a free night in Newport Beach at one of the nicest resorts in the U.S. “I also was supposed to go to a movie today, but that fell through anyway.”

I don’t know exactly how it happened, but the next thing I knew as I was driving along was that Katie was in my passenger seat glimpsing into my world. My very color-coded, full, and until now fairly private world. That is, the one documented in my master calendar.

Tangerine for meetings requiring prep work. Purple for social events. Green for personal appointments. Teal for travel. The entries have notes, lists of items to bring, reminder alerts and location addresses. She saw my calendar entry for that day: “Matinee With C.” She lit up with glee, so excited she could barely contain herself. I was uncomfortable for a second, unsure where this was headed.

“I am so excited! I feel like I’ve gotten a glimpse into your inner workings! I’ve always known you worked like this, and now I know how you do it!” I am pretty sure she actually clapped her hands. No joke. I’m not overusing exclamation points here, either.

She explained that she’s always known when I plan to do something on a given day, I will do it. And so when we make plans for a certain day, it’s important she follow through. For example, when I asked her to go on a road trip with me on April 27, she was straightforward. Instead of blindly committing, she said she wanted to go but wasn’t sure she could commit to that weekend. I appreciated this and we proceeded to have an hour-long conversation about my calendar, of all things.

And as we talked about it, I realized something very important. Katie asked how I had developed this trait, so I thought about it.

When I was young and awkward and all the things no one wants to be as a freshman in high school, I would get excited if someone wanted to hang out with me. I had very few true friends, but occasionally I’d find myself laughing and talking with one of the girls in my class. Afterward, she would say, “We should do something sometime!”

At first, they were the best words in the world, this promise that perhaps there was a budding friendship about to happen. That maybe I could stop reading alone by myself during lunch time and instead be normal and fun and happy.

But the disappointment would set in as time passed. I realized that phrase was not a promise, nor was it even sincere. If someone wants to hang out with you, they just do. They set aside a time for you and they follow through. They don’t use vague terms like “we should do something sometime.”

I vowed at an early age that I would not say I’d spend time with someone unless I intended to follow through. Sure, I’ve been guilty from time to time. I try really hard to understand that some (most?) people do not operate this way. But as for me? I never want to be the cause of anyone feeling the way I felt as a fat and discouraged freshman in high school.

So that’s part of why my calendar looks the way it does. It does mean I have to step outside of my comfort zone to be spontaneous (which is something I’m learning to be more and more). It does mean I’m almost always busy. But it’s because I don’t want to forget a commitment. I don’t want someone to think they are not important to me or that someone else is better than they are.

It’s amazing to me that so much of the way I run my everyday life stems from feeling undervalued as a kid. All I can do now is make sure that the people in my life don’t feel undervalued by me. It’s just how I work.

I will never be able to make it to every event (FOMO, anyone?), and I will probably flake from time to time (still sorry about your birthday 2 years ago, KH). But one of the ways I can show people I care is with my time.

Again, I do know not everyone works this way. But every one of you does have some special way to show those around you that you care. So own it. Do it. Make sure the people around you are seen and known. Just do it, because you really never know when it could make all the difference.