Something. Anything.

This morning on my walk to the subway (which turned into a walk to the bus) I prayed for God to show me beauty. For my eyes to be able to see something, anything in the world around me the spoke life. Something in the grayness and ugliness and bitter cold that made me happy to be alive. Some little thing that reminded me of the promise of Spring, of Love, of Beauty. Of a reason to not just go back to bed until mid-March.

I saw a silver and green tapestry in a shop window. I saw curly-qued balconies on each floor of an old brick walk-up apartment building. The dark black iron of the balconies and window-sills emerging from clay colored brick stood stark against the white snow. Snow which lingered in cracks and crevices and was stuck frozen, sliding down the pitched roof- slanting toward the sidewalk six stories below.

I saw antique jewelery in a shop window- broaches and earrings that clipped on and odd looking pieces like parrots and starfish and turtles. Jewelry that had a past. Jewelry that told a story.

I saw a wonderfully crafted dress featured in a boutique store window on Lexington. The bust was formed with meticulous detail from which the skirt below flowed flawlessly; it was cut on the bias. On the bust bits of pink and cream poked out from silver embellishments. The bottom of the dress was green that was almost black. It reminded me of a fancy pond in the middle of someones meditation garden; flesh colored petals floating atop the water side-by-side with lily pads.

I heard the couple behind me speaking French. The syllabals falling perfectly. The conversation soft and purposeful and forever pushing forward. Like a train passing by. Or the boom-click-boom-click-boom-click of high heels. Or a rushing river. Intoxicating.

I saw a white haired man help his wife across a mound of snow and ice 12" high. He held her hand as she cautiously stepped before climbing the steps of the bus. He stood on the sidewalk and waved to her after she found seat. His smile showing teeth.

Once on the bus myself, I heard a little girl, who was wearing a multi-colored, striped toboggan holler, "Abigail!, Abigail!" after she saw her classmate board the bus. She laughed. She was simply thrilled. She saw her six-year-old friend in an unexpected place and her toothless smile displayed her joy.

Things I'd rather be doing than sitting at work today:

When I looked out the widows of our apartment at 7:00 this morning and could see no buses, no taxi cabs and about six people (who were walking down the center of First Avenue, the only place to find traction in an otherwise 12-15" covered path) I decided to go ahead and be late to work.

Last night the other receptionist texted me, "Who decides if we're closed tomorrow and how will I find out?" I replied, "We will be open. See you then."

But, this morning, even though the New York City Dept. of Education was closed for the day (Chris was happy!) and even though there was 19" of snow recorded in Central Park, and even though from 32 stories above the city, it appeared pretty vacant, I knew I would be going to work.

Only after I had my still/ alone/ quiet time with God & a cup of coffee. Spent 1 1/2 hours at the gym downstairs (have I mentioned I LOVE my gym in my building!!!). Waited on bus service to resume--- about 9:15AM. Then I left. But buses were still not really running. So I walked .8 miles in 15-19" of snow. But once I stepped down into the pit of the 4/5/6 train on 86th Street-

All was working like a well oiled machine. Trains running, people few and far between, it was 9:45am: the perfect scenario. Think Dorthy in the Wizard of Oz when the she and the fella's are getting all dolled up to meet the wizard.

Ha ha ha
Ho ho ho
And a couple of tra la las
That's how we laugh the day away
In the merry old land of Oz

And I arrived to work at 10:00 on the dot. Just like I told my bosses I would when I emailed them this morning at 7:00. However, I was the only on who thought today was a bad weather day because the office was-a-bustlin'. Two meetings going on in two conference rooms with external guests. People-- at their desks. Messengers with packages, phones ringing.

And I'm thinking, "Do these people ever stop?" I know ALOT of people didn't go to work today, my commute was evident of that. There were seats available on the train, where usually I have to wait on two or three trains to pass. When the subway was pulling up as I rounded the corner down to the express train platform I literally muttered, "Sweet." Aloud.

So, instead of answering a few calls and eating my roasted Brussels sprouts at my desk I'd much rather be at home.

At home I could:

Watch Sherlock Holmes with my husband (who is home from school today)

Give myself a manicure- take off this Essie Chocolate Kisses (brown) color and perhaps go with Wavy Navy (deep blue) or keep it simple with Happily Ever After (soft pink)

Continue reading Bill Hybles, The Power of a Whisper or Mennonite in the Little Black Dress or the book I got from the library on Running for Women. I love the library. But I couldn't go there today. Because it's a government run. And it's closed today.

Do some laundry.

Make a pot of decaf.

Find a recipe & cook up some parsnips and eggplant- together, or not...

Do some yoga stretching.

Listen to my choir music since choir was canceled last night.

....

It's hard to be late or leave early or meander in when it's convenient when you're the receptionist.

No Snow Days! Boo!

Thirty is the new twenty-two

Thirty or forty years ago by the age of twenty-two you were settled. Really. Even when my own parents were twenty-two they had a house and a car and a couple kids and jobs and a Big Red bow on their white picket fence that went around their perfectly manicured front yard.

Okay, maybe not, but a twenty-two year old had a profession. They were rooted and living life somewhere permanent with a list of goals to strive for and achievements accomplished. And not that I'm not one of the greatest To Do List makers, I don't think it's what God really wants from me.

I'm thirty and don't own a car or a house or a piece of property or even a dog for crying out loud. The world has become smaller, and opportunities more obtainable. We can travel, visit other countries, take vacations to far away places. We experience more of the world than our parents, just as they did more than their parents, etc. etc. We truly live in a global community. And we don't want to settle down or stay anywhere too long because there is an entire world to explore. We are more independent, smarter, braver & skeptical. And in NYC this is amplified- everyone's young, single, without children or family or "home." And you can't survive without home- without a place to rest and be yourself.

And while I do have a home here, a community of people that I need, I'm afraid that I want more than belonging. Acceptance and feeling a part of something larger than myself are wonderful things- but I'm longing to step into next layer of maturity. Something that is individualized and fits tightly. I want to grow up, to feel like a grown up, I guess. So, when does that happen?

I guess I always thought that to be fully mature (defined as: having completed natural growth and development) I would need a demanding job, or enough money, or a child of my own- but that is not it. It's putting aside childish ways and living an emotionally healthy life. Realizing that humility brings wisdom. That listening is more important than talking. That I'll never figure life out. And in this life- completion will never be reached.

Growing hurts. And what really goes on inside that bright green cocoon with it's gold little zipper- no one really knows. But we are promised that on the other side something beautiful will emerge.

It's all in the eye of the beholder

Right?

Beauty.

This past Sunday at church we were challenged to see beauty. See the beauty in New York City. See beauty as Christ saw beauty. See beauty in our own lives, especially those places that God longs to take from completely collapsed to ravishing.

When thinking of the times I've experience beauty, so often I think of nature, and creation and Earth. I think of The Cliffs of Moher or The Muir Woods or even the black, star-filled sky over my the house I grew up in.

I think of a rainbow that we saw somewhere in Wyoming or Montana while living out of our Nissan Altima with The Stockhammer's right before leaving Texas for New York City. It was a semicircular double rainbow so Lora and I were able to get our husbands to stop the car for photos. We all stood in silence. And Lora and I cried and had "a moment."

I think of twirling in Scottish grass surrounded by18th century castle ruins. I think of the Tyler Rose Garden on my wedding day, of sunsets seen from our cruise-ship balcony, of crashing waves - pulsing and pulling.

But when I think about New York City, it's hard to think of beauty. It's hard for me to find the beauty. I know it's here, and I believe that it's here, but maybe my judgement is just skewed. Maybe I need to ask God to show me where the beauty is!

Even though beauty is almost impossible to define, you know it when you see it. Because when we experience beauty we are humbled. We are changed. Even when we are unaware and even when the artist doesn't even know it- beauty can bring us closer to God. It can move us to a place where we know, We Know there is someone greater than us. Who else could create a tiny, perfect baby fingernail?

I know it was beauty I experienced when I saw the venus de milo. It was beauty I experienced when I held my little brother for the first time and when I walk through my mom's garden -brimming with color and food and flowers. And it was something like beauty when I got to sit and listen and sing and hear James Taylor and Carol King live.

But in the city, in my day-to-day I'm asking God to help me see past the concrete and trash and angst filled subway rides. Even past Central Park and Bryant Park and Carl Schurz Park (It's easy to find beauty there. I'm drawn to nature in this metal machine.)

Just this morning in the gray snow I saw: chewed up bubble gum, cigarette butts, a blue rubber glove, a Bud Light can, dog poop, a banana peel, a plastic knife, the cardboard from the inside of a toilet paper roll, a black fleece lined glove, a lottery ticket, and the plastic lid from a coffee cup. This was on my block alone. Not to mention the Christmas trees that still lay in massive piles on every corner. Some still covered in lights. Some in tinsel. Some still in their stands. New Yorkers can't be bothered to un-decorate, or more likely it's that we have no where to keep things like tree stands or Christmas lights.

But I know beauty is here. Mostly, I see it in the faces of people. In dad's pushing a strollers and Nathan, the little boy who lives on our floor, running back and forth in the hallway at 7:00pm when I'm sure both he, and his dad- who's rolling the ball with him- are restless. In the voice of a little girl singing a nursery rhyme at the bus stop; a song I had long forgotten, but remembered immediately when I heard the tune. I'm not sure if it's hope or a sense of genuineness or simply freedom- but there's something there. Something slower and fresher. Something untainted and more authentic than most of this city is.

Wouldn't it be Loverly?

I have started the terrible habit speaking English like a Brit. I've started talking like people in my office....

Instead of: How was lunch at the seafood restaurant? or How did you like your lunch?

How did you find lunch at the seafood restaurant?

Instead of: Is there an employee there named Daniel? or The man attending is Patrick.

Is there an employee there called Daniel? or The man attending is called Patrick.

Instead of: How are things?
How's things?

Then there are the local New Yorkers to add an "r" to the end of all words ending in "aw."
We went to the movies and sawr Black Swan.

Then the Irish lads who "tink" they talk right. They are "tankful" they don't sound as bad as the Brits. Or Scottish. Or Australians. Or Austrians who like to "make" pictures instead of "take" pictures. "Everyone get together. Smile. I'm going to make your picture."

Then there's the Texan that they like to put on speaker phone. I hate knowing that I'm announceing calls to all ears within listening distance. All person's at the nearest eight cubiles and the guy who happens to be walking by headed to the men's room can hear me announce, "Hey Mark, I have Ken from Haaaaynes and Booooooone on the line for you."

I only realize how thick my accent must sound when I hear laughter and Mark says, "I'm sorry, Ken from where?" just so I'll say "Haaaaaaaaaynes and Boooooooone" just one more time.

Work it Out

So, everyone wants to "get in shape." Everyone wants to loose twenty-five pounds. Everyone wants to run a marathon, or get more tone, or have better endurance, or just be healthier. Tomorrow. But the only way to get there is to set obtainable goals, have the drive to stick to it, and be kind to yourself along the way.

I am currently working toward another half-marathon in April. Although I run, jog, and work that elliptical machine with all I've got there's a big difference between sweating through one hour/ 600 calories/ 6 miles and making it 13.1 miles outside. Outside where there are hills and wind and possibly rain and the temperature in early April could easily be in the 30's or 40's.

I don't have a real fitness/ health/ get in shape "resolution." I try to just be someone who is healthy. It's easy for me this way rather than to think of it as a button I press "on" or "off." I really dislike the no sugar, no carbs, no eating after 5:00pm, no caffeine diets. I just can't go there.

In regards to fitness my objective is to be willing to change it up a bit. AND to not punish myself if I miss a workout here or there.
...
We have a gym in our building, which we (the tenants of River East) and the Marriott Hotel share. For a monthly fee (which we have to pay in six month increments) we get: five treadmills, two elliptical machines, two stationary bikes, about six weight machines, and a plethora of free weights. All this in addition to: a pool, hot tub, sauna and steam room. I did take a six month hiatus during the spring and summer when I was spending my activity time in Central Park and doing yoga. During my time away, they've added a stability ball, resistance bands, floor mats and one of those weighted balls to do ab work with.

So, I've been looking online and in all my women magazines for things I can do at the gym incorporating these new tools. Toys really. I have to admit I have not been very successful. Most things I find are either too difficult for my soft, mushy, curvy, core OR I feel really silly doing them in the sort-of smallish gym. And in all honesty, I haven't looked very hard either. I know there are many websites and You Tube videos dedicated to this sort of thing. So, I need to keep looking.
...
The "in the building" gym situation is quite odd. There are about 12 of us that are regulars. Two of them happen to live on our floor: the older Asian gentleman who only jogs on the treadmill and uses the steam room and the 40-ish looking man with the little boy who turned two in October. There are only six units on each floor, so it's not that hard to recognize faces.

In addition there are the Chambers twins- girls in their early 20's- who live on the 14th floor. One works at Ann Taylor- I know this because we always get their mail. There's the guy who only runs like one mile in the mornings. Seriously, that is all I've ever seen him do. There is the mid-twenties guy who is doing rehab. He comes to the gym with his physical therapist- a beautiful Asian girl with a long pony tail and perfect skin. I'm pretty sure there is some sort of flirting/ sexual tension between the two of them. He's been doing rehab for some time now and no longer wears his headgear or leg braces but only supports on his wrists. (I think he was hit by a car. I heard this eavesdropping, of course.) There are others who use the pool and hot tub. And there are always those odd people (like myself) who use the gym while vacationing in NYC; guests of the Marriott.

Anyway, now there is a guy named Dan. (Who looks alot like Jeff Goldbum from Law and Order.) How do I know this? Because he hit on me, asked me out and told me what his apartment number he lived in the first time I saw him in the gym. This was after I just finished five miles on the treadmill. I looked about like I did in the above photo. Really, Dan? Really? It was right before New Years, and the holidays... maybe he was just lonely. Regardless, I don't want to talk to people at the gym, I want to listen to The Eye of the Tiger, challenge myself to 15.0 incline and mayve do some lunges. That's it! Now now it's just weird. Because when I get to the gym and he's there, I want to turn right back around and leave and when he comes into the gym and I'm already in there I want to leave.

For instance: Last night. I wanted to do legs after I finished up on the stationary bike. BUT, because Mr. Creepster was in there I left. Only after I tied my hoodie around my waste.

Friday Top Ten (on Saturday): New York Style

Just so you won't have to go another 24 hours without hearing from me I thought I'd just give you a snippet into my life this week:

Beautiful Sprout "Picnic" Box- Well, that is what is says on the packaging. Last night at Food for Health I picked up a my box of various sprouts for $2.99. They are just so pretty: alfalfa, broccoli, pea, garbanzo bean, clover, lentil and sunflower. Each box has a different selection. I just love them and ate some last night for dinner and today for lunch.

Orange Ginger Scented Wallflowers- I worked at Bath and Body Works for five years. Since I quit in 2004 I'm really not an avid B&BW shopper. Except during SALE time. Today I bought refills for my home fragrance diffuser in peppermint, orange ginger & jasmine vanilla at 75% off each. I try to avoid candles etc. in those yummy scents: pumpkin, nutmeg, butterscotch. They just make me want to sit down and eat a big cake.

Armani Code- is the next perfume I want. Badly. Hanae Mori was the first. Then Thierry Muglar's Angel (which evidently everyone loved) and now Code. I do really like Dior Addict, but that is my sisters scent and as personal as fragrances are, and as defining- I'll let her keep it - for now.

I'm a woodsy, oriental, warm, warm, warm fragrance wearer. So, for now it's sandalwood in a solid perfume and patchouli oil which are much more affordable. But, I love Code so much that about twice a week I go into the Sephora across 42nd Street from my office building and put some on during my lunch hour. It smells like confidence and cigarettes and hot cocoa and the way NYC smells at 10:30pm when I'm riding home in the back of a cab because I've had to much wine. It's nice.

Trader Joe's- Grocery store. Foodie Disney Land. They are in California and the Northeast, but somehow bypassed central America all together. It's been a love hate relationship with TJ's for three years now. When you have the time I will give you my complaint. For now, let me say they've opened two other stores in Manhattan and thus, the crowdedness factor has seriously been reduced. I visited the one on 22nd street and 6th Ave. and was able to actually shop. Amazing. Organic. Affordable. There own line of products/ brands. I am happy. Now, if they'd open one in the UES....

Journaling - I've been following an outline that our pastor's wife shared with a group of women recently. She has a list of questions which she seeks to answer while doing her (mostly) daily journaling. Sometimes she answers all of them. Sometimes one question really stings or sets off a chain reaction and she spills her guts on that one topic. They are:

Is my pace sustainable?

What is my body telling me?

Am I loving God and other's more?

What answers to prayer am I seeing?

What am I grateful for?

Am I overcoming fear?

Is my pride subdued?

And maybe my favorite-

What is the theme of the day?

I've thought about changing the list, or adding a question or two that speak more personally to me, but for now, this is working.

Forty Hour Work Week--- don't even get me started. I wanted to call in sick, or take a half day, or a two hour lunch. The first week back is always the hardest.

Frosted Windows- I can't see out into the elevator bank anymore from the reception desk at work, which is really upsetting me. No one asked the receptionists if we thought that putting a huge frosted decal on the windows was a good idea. So what if it's the company logo, I didn't think there was anything wrong with the nice sized logo on the door. We are the only office on the 19th floor- I doubt there is much confusion. And now, the five or six glass panels that let me see who's coming or who's going are frosted over. This is so unfortunate.

Veal Stew- Friday night Chris and I visited our dear friends The Atkins in Astoria, Queens- our old neighborhood. Everyone at church loves The Atkins because they are so real. Middle-aged, New Yorkers, no children, authentic, honest and have the biggest hearts for people and community and loving well. Susie made delicious stew and after eating a hearty portion I was ready to hibernate, but instead we sat around and talked and laughed and drank hot tea until 10:30pm. It was lovely.

Cut and Color- So against all opinions and other's advice, I both cut and colored my hair. Clairol 28 washes non-permanent color in Nutmeg ($8.00, Bed, Bath and Beyond) and ... hair trim with a few non-committal side bangs ($26.00). The hair cut was only $26 because a.) I didn't get conditioner and b.) I didn't let her "blow out" -- (What is this term? In Texas we say "blow dry") my hair. With conditioner and leaving without wet hair the total would have probably been $45-$55 dollars. Are you kidding me right now?

Inception - I watched a movie. I didn't like it. Chris loved it. I got it (I've heard alot of people say they didn't get the movie.) I followed it, I understood the plot, but I still didn't like it. Which made me feel like I didn't get it. But I know I did!

3" Platform Booties- Last week I was so so so tired of wearing goulashes that on Sunday I wore my booties to church. With cropped jeans. (Not really cropped, cropped but they were shortish. My ankles were showing. I didn't care that there was still snow piled up on every curb or that is winter. I was gonna be cute dang it! To be fair it was in the 50's last Sunday. But I doubt I'll do that tomorrow.

Happy New You

Happy 2011!

Can I just be honest with you? I was fast asleep in the bed before 11:30pm on New Years Eve. (And this year it wasn't a drunken stupor as it may/ or my not have been during my college days....) Chris and I stayed home, had some sparkling wine (much preferred to Champagne!) and, well, that's about it. But we were happy, so that is all that matters, right?

We did what we wanted to do and I was falling asleep so I just went to bed. However, the loud commotion and fireworks echoing off high-rise apartment all up and down the east side continued on for over a minute- so I did wake up enough to say, "Happy New Year baby." And then I was out again.

Like you, I have my New Years "To Do" List, even though I avoided it at first. I am so anti-resolutions. It's just so cliche and if it's not in you to make the changes to make it stick then it's just not going to stick, January 1st or June 1st.

I have a few things on 2011 list, and I plan to share with you my goals, desires and aspirations this week.

First up, Read more books.

I am suddenly realizing that many people wish they read more and often set out January 1st to read more books. But I have never had this goal for myself, New Year's or otherwise, so it's all new to me. For starters, we canceled our cable television. Seriously. So that is a step in the right direction.

Second, I made a list of books that I keep telling myself that I want to read, should read, aught to really find the time to sit down and, well, read- but haven't. Sadly enough many of them I have already bought and are sitting all shiny and un-broken spined on one of my many, many bookshelves.

Here's something that you probably don't know about me: I judge you by your book covers, kind of. I assume certain things about someone by looking at the books on their bookshelves. Not that one book tells me a whole lot about someone. If I see someone reading a book on the train or notice a book on someones desk at work- I don't walk away gleaning much. But, seeing their stash; the books they buy, and invest in and keep- that is something else.

The thing is- my mom read to us as kids. Lots and lots of books. We bought books and checked out books from the library. We'd read and mom would read to us too: books like The BFG and Chronicles of Narnia. So I know kids books, I know teen books, I know what books I want you to see on my shelves when you come to my apartment. The thing is alot of them, a WHOLE lot of them, I have never read.

I want you to put me in the category with people who read Rumi, all the works of Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes, and Hemingway. I want you to see books by Kahlil Gibran, Voltaire and Walt Whitman. I want you to know I buy things like, The Top Ten Short Stories of 2009. I want you know that I buy litterary journals and self-help books and Christian books on topics from finances, to marriage, to love, to being a better wife, friend, lover, person in general. But see, I've read about 50% of these books. So, they are really no reflection of me, right? Just who I want you to THINK I am... (Things to think about.)

So, I've started out by reading Bill Hybels Holy Discontent, which I devoured in two days. I think it's because it speaks to me where I am. Right now. It's like God opening the heavens and saying, "Here it is, all you were wondering about and praying for." Good Stuff.

So, now I'm reading Cold Tangerines. Which I actually heard about here, here & here. With it I purchased the author's newer book, Bittersweet, which I will delve into next. (I'm thinking Donald Miller meets Anne Lamott - two of my favorite writers, but we'll see.) Then, I'll begin The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, which someone at work brought to me just today. It's the first work in a trilogy, so I have quite the line up already. But, I'm getting ahead of myself, no?