“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
Happy Monday, friends. Whether it was good, bad or ugly, it is over…be done with it. Fresh start tomorrow and every day.
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Dream big by napping more.
{Dreaming big is a necessity and gosh, I love a good nap…}
I bought this t-shirt in record time. So spot-on.
The one move I managed to master with gusto on our New Year’s ski trip was après. Definition? The day is over—time for drinks and swapping war stories from the slopes.
Breckenridge Brewery was a blast with our crew but I have to say that placing a Mexican joint at the base of Vail Mountain was a stroke of genius. Margs and queso, chips and salsa…it was a match made in après ski heaven.
Unless you happen to be on a tropical island this week (and if so, please send for me), these sub-zero temps are announcing winter in a big way. This baked oatmeal helps.
While you are keeping cozy and warm this week, check out this You & Yoga podcast featuring Jacki Carr. It is fantastic AND an indoor activity- double win.
Also an indoor activity: free days at The Museum of Science & Industry.
Between this article about the things Americans can learn from Italians and the Instagram feed “What Italy Is”, I am dying to go back to Italy. Red wine will have to suffice for the time being.
I have been taking refuge from the cold at hot yoga (Om on the Range is amazing) and every time I hit my mat, all I can think is “I am just here for savasana.” I need this shirt.
This yoga event at Thalia Hall looks awesome. And instructor Wade Gotwals is awesome so tickets should definitely be procured.
Webster’s Wine Bar is being rebirthed into Harry’s Velvet Room, just in time for Valentine’s Day.
Do you save your fancy candles/lotions for…ever? I loved this Shauna Niequist post about how this is the year to burn the candles.
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It’s not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves. Sir Edmund Hilary
I spent last week at an average of 10,000 feet elevation. For a girl from the flat Midwest, there is something about mountains that blows me away. My husband and I joined friends for a some skiing and relaxing in the Rockies and for the entire 5 days, a majority of what came out of my mouth wasn’t so much words but gasps of “they’re so beautiful! And big!” I didn’t get over how grand and gorgeous they were, not for a single second.
Mountain beauty aside, I hadn’t skied in 6 years. Going up the gondola for our first run, all I could think was that this was a terrible idea. These were the Rocky Mountains. This was 12,000 feet. This was not at all like anything I had ever skied before. This was a terrible idea. I could break something, hit a tree, this was a terrible idea. I was silent the entire way; I got off the gondola without falling (win #1 right there!) and…I skied down the hill. All 3 ½ miles of it. I loved those mountains even more when I was on them and it turned out to not be such a terrible idea after all. It was a pretty outstanding idea, in fact.
That ride up and back down again was really a metaphor for my 2015 mantra: Don’t Be a Wuss. Now, I know that most New Year’s resolutions are inspiring and about what you are doing instead of not doing but this year, I am not going to be a wuss. 2014 was a blessing, a truly wonderful year and when I think about where I want my life to continue to go, what holds me back is me. I don’t always ask for what I want, I take responsibility for things that are not mine to own, I second guess way too often, I apologize profusely when people bump into me for pete’s sake. Now, there’s common courtesy but then there is apologizing for occupying space on a sidewalk. And that’s what I am getting at: take up space, man. Don’t apologize for existing or for achieving or for going after what you want. Trust your gut, always, and don’t make yourself wrong as a default mode. Be bold and take up space and declare who it is you are because if you don’t, who will?
Aka, don’t be a wuss. Go up the mountain because getting back down is absolutely possible.
So cheers to 2015, a big, bold, bright year if I’ve ever seen one.
You guys.
I included it in my Chicago Christmas guide but nothing could have prepared me for the spectacle that was actually attending a showing of White Christmas at The Music Box Theater.
You have to go. Seriously. A Christmas 2015 PRIORITY.
We went at noon on Christmas Eve with my mother, excited to see a favorite movie on a special day and there were carolers as we stepped inside the door. Totally unexpected. As was the enthusiasm of everyone working there. Same with the quotes from other Christmas movies on the bar menu wall. The man taking our tickets proclaimed we were in a great section (okay?) and said he believed in me. My husband said it meant he believed in me to find our seats but I will take it as he believes in me in general.
The carolers were actually part of the Chicago Chamber Choir and took to the stage for a full performance. At the end of a rousing rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” (you guessed it), SANTA CLAUS CAME TO TOWN.
Santa then led a singalong of every Christmas carol you have ever heard of.
All of this with an audience that was either wearing matching shirts, antlers, velvet capes (seriously) and carrying jingle bells. Which they rang every time someone in the movie said the word “Christmas”. I look over and Ryan is engaged in a conversation with the lady wearing a light up necklace sitting next to him and it was her family’s 13th year doing this and her sister just showed up married on Thursday and couldn’t believe we didn’t bring our own bells (note to self: BYOBells next year).
Whoa.
It was such an ordeal, Christmas spirit on steroids. (Not) surprisingly, I cried so hard at the end of the movie. I have seen White Christmas a thousand times but it was to the point where we had to sit a few minutes for me to compose myself after the curtain had closed. I was just so happy. And it finally snowed in Pine Tree, Vermont.
In conclusion: when these tickets go on sale next year, buy them and go. Bring your own bells. And maybe decide on a matching group outfit.
As mid-December hit, it was very apparent that the pace I was choosing was not sustainable. So I pumped the brakes and chose a new theme: slow. My reaction to things, whether it was an email or something major…slow. Deciding on holiday plans, menus, running errands…slow. I knew that being present with those I love wasn’t going to be possible if I was frantic, emotionally or otherwise, and so I chose slow.
It was the right move.
It was a wonderful Christmas spent with family, both those we are related to and the dear friend variety, and being in Chicago for all of it was such a gift. Because of slow, I felt like I soaked up every conversation, every meal, every glass of wine and just looking back on all the memories reminds me that whatever decisions or self-care necessary to be present in every moment is exactly what needs to be done.
So 10 days late…Merry Christmas. I hope your days were merry and bright and filled whatever it was you needed during this season.
My husband doesn’t have a ton of free time. Work speaks for most of his waking hours, which is a choice and totally fine…and I notice that when he does have time on his hands, he wants to complicate things. Most things. For example, on Sunday we were on a walk when he mentioned that he would like to stop for a drink. Okay, great. Manhattans and wine had already been imbibed that weekend…sangria, he declares, sangria is what he wants. I suggest half a dozen places I know with sangria on our street and the next thing I know, we are at the grocery store making sure we have all of the ingredients to make sangria at home.
And you know what? He was absolutely right to have use make it from scratch and I offer you sangria as an alternative cocktail this week of Christmas. It makes a big batch, using apples and pears (ooh! or pomegranate! use pomegranate!) makes it more seasonal than say, pineapple or strawberries and I think a cinnamon stick as a stirrer would be enough to make Aunt Thelma abandon her post at the fruitcake.
The moral of the story: sangria is not complicated and not just for summer. And let your husband make things involving cocktails (slightly) complicated.
Winter Sangria
1 bottle dry red wine
1 1/2 Cups brandy
1/2 Cup Triple Sec or Grand Marnier
Splash 7Up
Pears, Apples and/or Pomegranate
combine in a pitcher, adjust to taste, garnish with cinnamon sticks.
Last week was a rough one, to be perfectly honest. Minor and major issues alike seemed to come to a head at once and by the time Friday rolled around, I was pretty emotionally and physically spent. The holiday lover in me was like “It’s Christmas! Nothing can be wrong at Christmas!” but life, you know? It happens regardless of if you would rather be watching The Santa Clause (which I would. All of the time.).
But on Saturday, we had a Christmukkah party to attend. In it’s 10th year, we were Christmukkah rookies and the event was everything I heard it would be and more. Great views of the skyline, really nice and interesting people, fantastic champagne punch…
and a box of White Castle burgers.
I grew up eating White Castle as very special treats at home when my Dad would buy them from the grocery store. He would tell me about how when he was a boy, his Dad would take him to White Castle when they would visit family in Chicago. To have an entire box of them at my fingertips at Christmukkah, well, it might as well have been a tray of caviar and gold plated lobster. “Ryan,” I whispered, “It’s White Castle” as we inched near the glorious table they were perched on. While hovering over the teeny paper thin burgers, we met a woman named Nicki who shared our incredulity. She is this wildly talented playwright, actress, dancer, musical theater goddess and was truly lovely but I will always know her as the sweet lady who ate White Castle burgers with us and shared her own White Castle burger stories.
After a few glasses of champagne punch and 2 little White Castles, the Christmukkah spirit was upon us and every gross thing that happened in the previous week was shaken off. A quick cab ride and some shopping later, I cemented my festive mood with eggnog at Nico Osteria.
Because that is what is good about Christmukkah and Chicago- you’re only a quick attitude change away from White Castle and a holiday cocktail.
Let’s be merry this week, shall we?
Spotted at Heritage Bicycles. Did Santa ditch the reindeer this year in favor of a vintage micro-bus?!
