I can get half credit, right?

A fleeting ambitious moment combined with public accountability minus much discretionary time plus a teaspoon of laziness yeilds... this 30 x 30 in 30 update.  Out of a possible 30 points (one for each), let's see how I did.

1. Start a new, professional-oriented blog.  Quarter point here.I did claim the word press name Mel @ Work, I just never actually blogged.  But oh, I have big plans...stay tuned. 
2. Have one day, just one, where I actually do it all. Yea, this um, just really doesn't happen.  There was one day I almost achieved it, but I opted for an extra 30 min of sleep over a run.  I am tempted to give myself a half a point for figuring this out now instead of after an anguished breakdown three years from now when I have a kid or something.
3. Move into a home I actually own. Oh snap!  One point!  We haven't yet spent in a weekend in it, but all in good time, I guess.
4. Go to Las Vegas for the first time. Check it.  One point. Why have I stayed away so long?
5. Have one ridiculous, early-twenties style, wild-ass night out. Ha ha.  I should get two points.  Vegas, oh Vegas. I would say more, but I don't want to betray the confidence of my companions.  I did eat a 4 a.m. breakfast at Denny's on the strip with a nice lad I met that night named Billy.  When I told my husband of all my exploits, his only disbelief was "You ate at Denny's??"
6. Buy one really fun, really age-inappropriate outfit. I get one point for purchasing the sequined-fronted and lace-backed  tank top, but it gets taken away for returning it three weeks later.
7. Buy one really nice, high-quality, going to last a long time, 30s-appropriate outfit. Score one for me.  Kelly green pencil skirt with embellished royal blue cardigan?  I should get an extra point for it not being black.
8. Reach out to a friend I haven't talked to in a long time and grab a drink. Fail.  I had some big plans, but sometimes it's hard just finding time to see Dinslage.  However, once I am done with summer school in July...I will... probably just think of another excuse. 
9. Lose four pounds.  Um, I believe I gained four.  Okay, five.
10. See some live music.One point.  Thank you Mayer Hawthorne.  This concert also led me to demand we have rounds of Henny and Ginger Ale for my birthday, but luckily those closest to me are pretty good at knowing when to dismiss my demands as folly.
11. Get rid of any clothing I haven't worn in two years, any that "might work if only..." and any that just looks a little too well-worn. Half point here.  I made a good effort...but I suspect there are at least several items that could hit the donation bin.
12. Learn how to roast asparagus. Yes!  Thanks to some facebook crowd sourcing, I learned I just cooked those suckers for far too long.
13. Make sure my parents know just how grateful I am for these past 30 years. No points here...no comment either.
14. Make sure my nearest and dearest know how much they mean to me. Okay, so perhaps this is an area to work on. No points.
15. Plant something. Like, in dirt. Point!  I did this on my actual birthday, so it was a last-minute slip in.  I keep the award despite the fact that some new renters moved in upstairs (the genesis of which is saved for a blog that will be entitled "Home ownership.  You have no f***ing idea until it's too late.") and without asking the ONLY OWNERS WHO ACTUALLY LIVE IN THE BUILDING proceed to tear up the entire garden destroying not only the seedlings I planted,  but the gorgeous herb garden that our home's previous residents established.
16. Read a Jane Austen work.  Half point.  Still working on and loving Pride and Prejudice.  It's a thinker that one - can't read it when not at > 75% mental capacity.
17. Go to one yoga sculpt class a week.  Point! Have I been since?  Nah.  I credit all the lifting of boxes and furniture for these fab arms.
18. Try the gourmet hot dog down the street before we move. Point...and a point I would repeat. Seriously, Chicagoans - Frank'n'Dawgs.  The rolls alone....oh.
19. Go to the Whole Foods and drink a glass of wine while I grocery shop. Quarter point.  Did a little shopping and had the free samples of wine they dole out on Friday nights.  Yes, Friday night.  This was clearly not one of the wild-ass 20-something nights aforementioned.
20. Make a perfect party playlist. I have Spotify to thank for this one. It would be a laid-back, blue-grass laden with tinges of Drake type of party, but yea, I think it's worth a point.
21. Finishing changing my name.  Ug. Halvsies.  I got the paperwork I needed for this final account, but it's lost in a packed box...somewhere...in the...basement?
22. Watch the sunrise over North Beach.  Ha. I saw two Vegas sunrises, but I was pretty specific on this one, so no points for me.  Again, John offered to get up and run to the beach to see it, but sleep won out.
23. Have a glass of really good champagne al fresco. Nope.  But...I will do this before October.
24. Have a ridiculous artisan cocktail along the river. Yes!  At Japonais...the cocktail was actually a little gross...but it was artisanal and I made John sit on a patio during breezy 60 degree weather to check this off, so...point!
25. Learn how to get those movie-star gorgeous waves in only five minutes so I can do them before work. Half point.  I can do it, but it takes more like 15 minutes.  However, with my bangs I end up looking a bit like Zooey Deschnel.
26. Call my mother in law just to chat. A delightful point that I will make a habit of.
27. Close on a house. What a layup.  But, a point none-the-less
28. Drink the pricey bottle of non-oaky chardonnay we picked up in Sonoma three years ago. Um...it's still packed?
29. This one is open to suggestions. Cousin Carl suggested a "first tattoo."  Luckily I already have two.  Still planning on getting Richgels inked at some point, but regardless, no points.
30. Cut myself some slack.  Have fun with these. I did.  I do!  Point for me.

Okay, so what is the grand total?  Drum-roll....16 points. 

It's cool.  I had fun and plan on checking off the rest of these as I embark on my 31st year hanging around this here life.  Cheers! 

30 x 30 in 30 Update

I like the Huff Post article that is circulating around right now - on women turning 30 and the 30 things they should know/have by that time.  It is interesting - it is actually from a 1997 issue of Glamour - but it so resonates, it gets resurrected every few years by the latest crop of ladies marking three decades on earth. 

Makes sense - I penned by own 30 x30 (but in 30 days - see, that is the fun twist - my ideas aren't ubiquitous!) a few days before Huff Po made it cool.  So what does it mean?  It means that even if we don't want it to be, or don't think it is, 30 is a big birthday.  Most certainly by society's timeline (at least for women - I think we somehow sprout a "sell-by" date on our foreheads visible to men 50 years old and younger), but for a lot of us, personally as well. 

I guess it's a standard milestone that has been popular to mark with lists of what we have done, or sometimes more sadly, what we have yet to do. I don't know about you, but that feels like a lot of pressure.  It's one thing to have your own list, but to have a standard set by someone else?  I know I don't meet all or perhaps even most of Glamour's 1997 checklist. Wait, just kidding.  I did buy myself a great umbrella.

So for that, I'll focus on my own.

How am I doing? Well, I have started Pride and Prejudice, I got a domain for my professional blog (just haven't written in it yet), I am going to yoga sculpt on Saturday and I am waiting for the weather to turn so I can drink fabulous drinks in open air.

A Very Compressed 30 by 30

Sometimes inspiration takes a bit to strike.  In getting ready for a one-year-old's birthday party this morning, I realized that today, in fact is one month until my birthday.  The very one that turns me 30.

I haven't been angsty about it, nor feeling like I am about to turn a crazy age corner.  I have felt like I need to use more moisturizer around my eyes and questioned if I can, in fact, pull off red skinny jeans, but that is about it. 

However, while nothing is actually going to change on May 21, I have been gripped with a desire to do a ceremonial 30 before 30 - just to ride out the last days of my twenties in a celebratory but forward-moving fashion.   

I think people typically give themselves a year for this, but let's see what I can do in the next 30 days.

1. Start a new, professional-oriented blog - something I can share widely and generate some personal branding around to further my career. Thank you, Lori Fong for the inspirational push.
2. Have one day, just one, where I actually do it all.  Work out in the morning, have a productive, gratifying day at work, grab a quick drink to socialize with friends, eat a healthy, balanced dinner, converse with the hubs on our days, and read a chapter for grad school.
3. Move into a home I actually own.  Okay, it's a built-in, but I'll take it.
4. Go to Las Vegas for the first time
5. Have one ridiculous, early-twenties style, wild-ass night out.  Vegas should help with that.
6. Buy one really fun, really age-inappropriate outfit.
7. Buy one really nice, high-quality, going to last a long time, 30s-appropriate outfit.
8. Reach out to a friend I haven't talked to in a long time and grab a drink.
9. Lose four pounds.  'Cause, ya know, what girl doesn't want that?
10. See some live music.  I used to do this all the time - having a brother and boyfriend's best friend in a band helped, but I miss it.  It was a hallmark of my 20s.
11. Get rid of any clothing I haven't worn in two years, any that "might work if only..." and any that just looks a little too well-worn.
12. Learn how to roast asparagus. It's always awful.
13. Make sure my parents know just how grateful I am for these past 30 years.
14. Make sure my nearest and dearest know how much they mean to me.
15. Plant something. Like, in dirt.
16. Read a Jane Austen work.  Not with zombies.
17. Go to one yoga sculpt class a week.  I really hate yoga sculpt.
18. Try the gourmet hot dog down the street before we move.
19. Go to the Whole Foods and drink a glass of wine while I grocery shop (for the five items that will keep my bill under $50).
20. Make a perfect party playlist.
21. Finishing changing my name.  Ug. 
22. Watch the sunrise over North Beach.  Setting an alarm and getting up for this is acceptable. Bonus points for me if I STAY UP to see the sunrise, but let's be honest, I think that only happened twice in my 20s and I don't think I can make it three.
23. Have a glass of really good champagne al fresco.
24. Have a ridiculous artisan cocktail along the river.
25. Learn how to get those movie-star gorgeous waves in only five minutes so I can do them before work.
26. Call my mother in law just to chat.
27. Close on a house.  Okay, okay - another built-in, but hey - I only have 30 days.
28. Drink the pricey bottle of non-oaky chardonnay we picked up in Sonoma three years ago.  Not alone.  With John.  On our deck - old or new.  I don't like moving bottles.
29. This one is open to suggestions.  What do you think? I was going to donate my hair, but my stylist told me I can't cut that much without looking like Ramona Quimbly.
30. Cut myself some slack.  Have fun with these.  Boo-ya.

In Their Shoes

I am a better sarcastic writer than serious one. Gas.  Gas and legumes were somewhat going to be the centerpiece of this post , because I have decided to try a week hard core on the 4-Hour Body Slow Carb diet.  It involves eating a lot of beans.  A lot.

But, as I was thinking about what to write, I couldn't shake two stories from the past few days.  The first is of the car crash deaths of three Bowling Green State University students, Rebekah Blakkolb, Christina Goyett, and Sarah Hammond, and the second is of Philip Patanaude, a 28-year-old Chicagoan who drowned in Lake Michigan Saturday.

See, right now in my life I am doing a lot of planning.  Planning to buy a house, planning to graduate from business school, planning a new career path.  Part of all that planning is hedging decisions with unknowns, but assuming the best outcome.  But, life isn't always that auspicious, and when it is, you don't always have much or anything to do with it.

I can just see it - ten sorority sisters in two cars, heading to the airport for Spring Break.  It's the middle of the night, but that's okay, the driver is rested and everyone is too excited to sleep.  Their parents are mostly worried about what they will do on the trip, but not so much about the ride to the airport.  I can see it because I have done it.  I have been in that car, I have been with those girls - same sorority, even.  The difference is that I, like thousands of others, made it to the airport.  I didn't encounter a car driving the wrong way on the interstate, so my life, the lives of my friends and family, were not spider-webbed across a windshield and splintered. 

I was doing a hell of a lot of planning this time last year, getting ready for our September wedding.  That's really all you do when you are prepping for nuptials - you make plans, get excited for a big party and a bigger forever, and day by day you focus more and more on that person who is going to be with you for the rest of your life.  I have been there, too.  Now, I imagine for a moment at a time what Philip's fiancee is going through, but I have to stop because even the fiction of it makes me sob and feel physical pain. 

I have had a night or two when I wondered where the hell my fiancee was, but unlike Philip, John came home.  And while John wasn't at the lake, haven't we all made decisions that in one way or another have put our lives at risk?  I know have.  I've had a lucky youth characterized by a carefree spirit peppered with reckless behavior and bad choices.  Yet here I am.  And knock on the biggest damn piece of wood while throwing a block of salt over my shoulder, all of my friends and family are here too.


As much as I plan my future, make decisions and influence what I can, the fact is, I am really not in control of anything at all.  None of us are. It's comforting to think that is not the case, but really, all we can control is our behavior. Our actions towards others.  The outcomes?  Not so much. 

So now, all I can do is pray for these people's friends and families and for continued luck and guidance. I can be loving, grateful, honest, generous and charitable, because these are the right ways to be. I can tell people I love to be safe and I can be safe myself.  But I know, without a doubt, it is only by the grace of God go any of us.

Turning Legumes into Love Handles

I am giving up sugar for Lent.  Please note, sugar-free Jell-o pudding, skinny vanilla lattes (sugar-free syrup, duh), wine, and Belgian chocolate when physically in Belgium are not, for these 40 days, going to fall into the "sugar I am giving up" category.  And, before you call me a sell-short, slacker, half-ass or pagan, understand that I am a realist and want to set myself up for success.  Hence, appropriate boundaries.

Anyway, the reasons I am doing this vary.  To start, I got married about five months ago, and while I wouldn't say I've "let myself go," I would say I likely need pliers, duct tape  and an allen wrench to zip into my wedding dress.  Another reason has to do with showing the most minuscule bit of solidarity with a friend who is facing (and will always face) some pretty daunting medical issues, and I want to offer this Lent to her (not real sure where God stands on that, but it is done with good intentions so I'll worry about that later).  It's insignificant, but I see it as a bit of prayer every time I pass the candy dish. Moving on.

So, in preparation, I have gone on a bit of a bender, but this is an odd sort, because I have managed to make lean legumes into corpulent conspirators.  Backing up for context, wheat and I don't get along so well.  It's not dangerous to me by any means - no Celiac here - but gluten leaves varying degrees of digestive devastation in its wake.  Generally speaking, I avoid most wheat products (but not pizza on St. Patrick's day after six beers).

It started on Friday night, after John and I cooked up an Asian feast.  I won't get into this, because when you and your spouse decide Friday night is a good time to shop for and prepare a four-course meal that requires ingredients like galangal, please believe me when I say it's going to involve trips to three separate food stores, at least two squabbles, and one meal consumed at 10:30 p.m. But, I digress.

So after this meal, we were both hankering for something sweet, but light.  We decided to try a pumpkin smoothie from Real Simple, because it seemed easy enough and we had the ingrediants on hand.  Really, you say? Pumpkin puree?  Oh yes.  After each Halloween, rather than pitch our pumpkins, we roast them, puree the insides and then have about 16 cups of real pumpkin in our freezer for the balance of  the year.  The rest of the recipe seemed simple enough - pumpkin, milk, honey, ice. 

Well, I don't like whole milk or honey, so we used skim and agave.  Then the taste wasn't quite right so we added Splenda and cinnamon.  Then something was still off, so more pumpkin and actual pumpkin pie spice was added to the mix.  On it went until we ended up with a frothy, spicy, not quite sweet enough oddity that all added up to "meh" calories consumed.  Yes, I drank it all.  And yes, I know pumpkin is not a legume, but don't kill my alliteration.

Moving on to Saturday, my friend Lauren had been raving about these black bean brownies a friend of hers brought into work.  Curious, and always wanting to try new flour-free tricks, I gave this recipe a spin, sans the chocolate chips and powdered sugar.  They were pretty good, not great - perfect consistency, needed more sweet, probably what the sugar or chocolate would have provided.  But still despite the mediocre taste, I managed to put away about half of them in a two day span because hey - these are beans right?  Healthy, full of protein.  A solid snack!

Anyway, the real hum-dinger came tonight.  After mentally committing to going sugar-free this Lent, there was this little sprout of an idea that kept calling to me, and jumping around in my head.  On Friday, one of the girls at the office mentioned  a cookie dough dip.  Made with CHICKPEAS. I had looked it up last week and added it to to my mental must-do, but in the middle of tonight's painful, incomprehensible Macro Economics lecture, I kept having inappropriate thoughts about this dip.  It would be mine.  It would be mine tonight! Yes.  Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

Fast forward.  I plow through Dominick's and grab the requisite items to make this version of the dip.  Chocolate Covered Katie, I don't know you, but I love you.  I skipped the flax and oats, added a few splashes of milk, used Splenda and squeeze of agave, and I kid you not, it was like eating raw cookie dough with a spoon.  I was floored.  I proudly served it up to John with apples (for me) and graham crackers (for him), waiting to have the awe echoed.  Let's just say I should have known better.  John's mom, Agnes, is a comfort-food kitchen goddess.  He grew up in a full fat, full butter, full Crisco paradise, so the underwhelming response of "Yeah, it's good.  Missing some mouth feel.  Probably be better cold" was par for the course.

But trust me, ladies. Nothing "meh" here. Totally worth it.  Because in a "sh*t girls say" world, a bowlful of cookie dough makes perfect sense.  It only made my pants tighter, but what a great fat Monday.

Eat up.  One more day.

T-e-s-t T-y-p-e

Ah-hem . Uh, is this thing on? . Re-verb, whoa. I guess so.

I am so cold at writing, I hardly know where to start. Well, not at writing. I still write for work. Everyday. A lot. And for school. Not everyday. Not so lot. But, ah-hem, let me clear my throat. See, this isn't so hard.

I have wanted to pick the blog back up for so long, but haven't for a number of reasons, not the least of which is laziness seasoned with a bit of busy, broiled in procrastination served with the foie gras-textured what-do-I-write-about-as-an-employed-person-on-a-blog-called-Lady-Laid-Off?

Well, it may not be a rich dish, but here we go, just to get back in the swing of things.

Today was a happy day. Today I learned with certainty that I can claim at least - at the very least - three days of my life back from the expressway. My company is relocating and my commute time will be cut by 45 minutes each day (conservative estimate - I think it may be more like 1 hour, but I will hold off and be pleasantly surprised). This means I have just under four extra hours every week, 15 hours a month and three whole days a year back into my wallet of spendable time. Or rather, will have. This is a year in the making.

Small victories, though, right?

And enough blogging for now. I am boring myself.

They Don't Print This on Sorority T-shirts

A few years ago I was writing a book. This book was a non-fiction, story-laden exploration of the post-21st-year-of-life set - their (my) immature, dependent and bumbling attempt at living outside the bubble of college and the shell of childhood. It, like so many post-collegiate dreams was put on hold. The first hold because I was just having too much damn fun living that life and the second because I began growing out of it and no longer thought I had time to explain it.

Again, like so many bubbly dreams, I aimed to pick it back up this winter break (six weeks of no classes and three weeks of low-key work). I also thought I would do some pre-work for my stats class. Can you guess which I did? If you guessed "ate cheese ball and read fantasy novels," you would be correct. I hope to get back to it one day, and yes, I do realize that I was rather free (unemployed) for three and a half months earlier this year.

Why all that blathering of unrealized goals? Well, I have been thinking a great deal about the evolution and percolation of friendships. The book was heavily focused on the relationships I had with my girlfriends. In fact, much was dedicated to the realization that at some points in my life, they, for better or worse, represented everything important to me. It was very difficult to picture a life that didn't involve at least three weekends per month of 48-hours' constant contact and a part-time job comprised of dissecting drama (in my case, it was usually my own, self-inflicted variety).

Mistake me not, these people are still essential to my life, utterly irreplaceable, but somewhere along the way, my dependency on faded from north-star caliber to a healthy just-came-in-from-the-cold-rosy-glow. Among finding a career, a sense of self (+ esteem), a love and a desire to be alone every now and again, I became a less-clingy version of myself. In many ways, we all have. In no way does this mean they are less a part of my life, or me theirs - you might say we've diversified our portfolios. It doesn't diminish the value of friendship or the love felt, just presents a means of appreciating what has always existed in new ways.

As with most people who have a (insert "hard time" cliche here), I experienced that there are levels of depth to certain friendships that I had forgotten were there, and I also figured out that some of the ones that I thought were deepest were actually just me standing alone in a dried-up well. Then, once you get (insert "back on your feet" cliche here), the shared joy of your friends means just as much, if not more, as the daily calls to make sure you did follow through with the goal of getting out of bed by 10 a.m. and not cracking a beer until noon.

And the really cool thing is how as my girlfriends have become busier, older, wiser, they've become more interesting - two-hour dinners are as bonding as the 48-hour bender/hangover/movie/bender cycles were. I have always known and believed in the spherical nature of friendships (it was just harder to be friends with me when I took everything personally - ahem, crybaby), but at this point, it's a fascinating case study in what you knew would always be true and what you know is true.

Self-indulgent post? Absolutely. But also a thank you to my friends for who you were then and who you are now.