Chicago Blogger Network party at Lara Miller's Studio.

As y'all know, Chicago designer Lara Miller is not only one of my favorite designers, but one of my best friends.  The other night, I helped her with an event she held at her studio for the Chicago Blogger Network, a new group just for style and culture bloggers in the Chicagoland area.

The group came to the studio, drank champagne and ate gorgeous food, checked out all of the new pieces from the line, and had their hair and make up touched up for photos with photographer Bret Grafton.  The top three styled outfits will receive special prizes from Lara Miller and a lot of the images from the evening will be used for her new look book.  What was really exciting about the whole evening is that the women (and the lone man) are all very different: different styles, different looks, different shapes and sizes; that just will showcase how incredible Lara's clothes are: they really do work on many different body types.  Seriously.

Here are some pictures from the event itself, thanks to the event photographer, whose name I've forgotten---apologies!  I'll get it from Lara soon, so you know who took these fantastic images.  Until then: enjoy!

Having my make up done before all the crazy started.

 

The Thome Necklace, a favorite

Checking out some images with Lara, Bret, and Janine.

Some of the sleeves of a couple LM sweaters. Gorgeous color.

Styling one of the lovely Blogger Models.

Lara Miller and her gorgeous smile.


Best Laid Plans.

This month has not at all turned out as planned.  Then again, make plans, God laughs, right?  Or something like that.

This month, I:

  • Signed up for NaNoWriMo, and got down the very first day.  I was excited!  Yay, writing a novel in a month!!
  • Had scheduled a two and a half week intensive residency with 7th graders
  • Am participating in a fantastic detox---eliminated soy, peanuts, wheat, gluten, alcohol, and must get at least 7 hours of sleep and exercise 30 minutes a day.  Also---make sure to drink loads upon loads of water.  I've done pretty well with this.
  • Am still training for Honolulu, which means my longest run is tomorrow (26 miles).  Yikes!!

So let's track those things:  I started Nano all keyed up and excited on the first, got some words in, great!!  THEN---had to scramble for a couple of days to get some work finalized for a show I'm in.  THEN---started the residency, which has, quite honestly, left me so completely exhausted at the end of the day that I could do mentally was escape with Harry Potter books, after the Bean goes to bed---I mean, have you ever worked with seventh graders??!)

Last Saturday, I had a ten mile race scheduled, and missed it, because I overslept (my alarm didn't go off, because I set it for PM rather than AM....sub-consciously on purpose?). I went to a yoga class instead, and ran on Sunday.

This week, I had three 12 hour days, working at the school, teaching the undergrads, and then going around buying more supplies for the residency.

I've had to let go of NaNoWriMo, and not feel guilty about it.  Believe me, the 'not feel guilty about it' part is the hardest thing for me; when I commit to something, say I'm going to do it, I do it.  But you know what?  I have come to the conclusion that it's just not a good month for me to concentrate on that.  And I'm okay with that now.  It's taken me a while to get to that, but there I am.

The only huge thing I have next month is Honolulu, and that's just 5 days.  I can commit to working every day on a long writing project next month, and have more time and energy to breathe life into that story, into those characters, than I do now.

Here's the thing, too:  I am absolutely grateful that these are my particular problems right now.  I'm tired from helping a bunch of goofy adolescents express themselves with writing and sculpture while learning about math stuff in the process?  I'm tired from working out and eating healthy, good food all the time?  I'm tired from showing undergrads how awesome it is to be a teaching artist?

Seriously?

(also, check this out.  This woman totally rocks.)



Beauty, Defined: Ashley Flatland

Last year, I started to go out to dinner once a month with a group of great ladies---my friend Alison and I had decided that we needed a monthly girls’ night out and each invited several friends for sushi---and the second or third month, I met Ashley; a fashionable mother of two young girls, Ashley and I immediately hit it off, and I knew immediately that she was the one that I needed to talk to about the re-introduction of Beauty, Defined.

Ashley and her husband Tim

Ashley is an incredibly stylish woman, with a smile that welcomes you and twinkly blue eyes; always ready to laugh and enjoy life, Ashley sets a great example for her two little girls, who are both tiny mini-me versions of their mom.  Here’s what she has to say on beauty and style. Enjoy!!

How do you define beauty?

Being comfortable in your own skin and staying true to yourself.

How does that definition show up in your everyday life?

Remembering to live in the present and appreciate what you have while you have it. I’ve really embraced this mantra since having my daughters.

What are five products you cannot live without (desert island picks)?

Only 5? I’m a product junkie.  Tried and true products –

  1. Lip balm
  2. Tinted Moisturizer
  3. tweezers/eyebrow brush (slightly obsessed with the getting the arches right)
  4. floss (must do every night)
  5. Hair serum
Josie Maran Illuminizer

Latest must have finds – anything from Josie Maran. I love all her products. I’m really into her illuminizer at the moment. Plus the whole line is eco friendly!

Of those five, which is the number one thing you can’t live without?

I’m having a Sophie’s Choice moment. Probably lip balm. I have them stashed throughout my house and you’ll find them in almost all my coat pockets.

What did your mother teach you about beauty?

Sunscreen Rules. I grew up in southern California and she used to a tape a note to my mirror every morning reminding me to put it on.  She also influenced my love of beauty products. I used to love going into her bathroom and playing with everything she had and she had a lot of good stuff.  I still raid her make-up drawer when I visit her.

What would you tell your teenage self about beauty?

You will outgrow acne....until pregnancy.  Also, don’t be so hard on yourself...you’re really pretty (wish I believed that then).

However, a pair of tweezers and some anti-frizz serum for your hair wouldn’t kill you.  (Editor's note:  HA!!)

What do you want to teach your daughters about beauty?

I want to help my girls build a strong sense of self.  When they are old enough, I look forward to teaching them how to highlight their already natural beauty. Even though I love my products, I do believe that less is more.

Ashley, Tim, and their gorgeous girls

When in your life do you/did you feel the most beautiful? And why?

When my husband and our 2 girls have our family snuggle before their bedtime. It’s such a happy and intimate moment that I treasure.

Also, after I take a bikram yoga class. I’m dripping with sweat, yet feel such a sense of accomplishment I can’t help but feel ready for anything. I’m addicted.

And, I know it sounds cliché, but I really did feel my most beautiful after the birth of both my girls. I was so blissfully happy and remember that feeling of utter joy  when I held my babies for the first time. Time really stood still and in that moment everything was how it should be. Plus, the epidural hadn’t worn off yet.

How do you define style?

Knowing what works best for you and staying true to that. It doesn’t have to be complicated and should be fun.

How has your personal style evolved?

It’s gotten so much better over time. I used to pay too much attention to trends and copy the whole look from a magazine.  Now, I stay more true to what I like and feel comfortable in (You’ll never see me in a one shouldered top!) I still love to pore over fashion spreads, but now I work trends in smaller doses like accessories. I love clothes and always feel better about myself when I’m digging my outfit. I still make some missteps here and there, but I always have fun with my clothes.

Who would you consider your style mentor, and why?

Ashley and her style guru, Jenny

Probably my college roommate and friend Jenny.  She had the best closet in our house and was very generous with her clothes. I loved ‘shopping’ her wardrobe.  She has such a knack for finding the best clothes. She is the greatest shopper I know. She knows what she likes and what works for her and never strays from her own style.

What did your mother teach you about style?

The best style tip I got from my mom was to not hunch my shoulders. She was a stickler for good posture.

What is your favorite place to shop and why?

If my mom is buying...Neiman Marcus. She used to take me to lunch there when I was little after she went shopping. She now continues that tradition with her granddaughters.  It’s a beautiful store and a fun experience.

I love to shop Forever 21H&M. I’m always amazed that most of the pieces I get compliments on come from those stores. I also like to shop local boutiques.

Who is your favorite designer and why?

I love Marc Jacobs. I find his pieces to have a timeless quality about them, yet they still have some fun to them. I wear my Marc Jacobs sunglasses everyday.


Bean Conversation, earlier, in the car.

Bean: Mom! There’s someone who watches the WHOLE WORLD!! Guess who?

Me: Who, honey?

Bean: I’ll give you a clue. Starts with a G!!

Me: Hm…I’m thinking. I’m wondering. Watches the WHOLE WORLD, and starts with a G. I might have a guess, but could you tell me who you are thinking of?

Bean: She lives in heaven.

Me: Who lives in heaven and watches the whole world? Hm…

Bean: Her name is GOD!!

Me: Oh, that makes sense.

Bean: Yes.

Me: Well, you know, some people believe that God lives everywhere, not just heaven. Like, inside you, and inside me, and in the joy we feel and the trees and sky and nature and everywhere. What do you think?

Bean: And in heaven, too.

Me: In heaven, too? So, all over the place?

Bean: Yeah.

Me:

Bean: And she watches over the whole world, even if she’s everywhere.

Me: Oh, okay. Is that all that God does?

Bean: She makes sure we’re all safe.

Me: ….

Bean: And when we die we live in heaven too!

Me: Oh, okay.

Bean: But not all over the place. Just heaven.

Me: When we die?

Bean: Yeah. WE aren’t all over the place, just heaven.

Me: Oh, okay.

Bean: That’s how it works.


Bravery.

A preface, of sorts: last year, as we were trick-or-treating, the Bean, his friend Sia and her brother Milo went out with the dads for the second round of candy begging, and this ragtag group went to a house on the corner---complete with scary man wielding (fake) axe and saw, groaning. The kids were terrified, completely, utterly terrified, so much so that they didn’t walk up the stairs to the door to get the goods, and so much so that Milo has talked for a YEAR about the scary guy, who has become somewhat a figure in nightmares around their house.

So imagine our surprise when we set out to trick or treat last evening, and all three kids asked immediately when we were going to go to the scary house. I mean, they did indeed run from house to house, gathering the Skittles and Reese’s, but each time we regrouped (which was often, as our the little costumed princess in our little group could barely keep up), they asked where the spooky house was, if we would see it soon, and they talked amongst themselves about the scary man with the red eyes.

We meandered around the neighborhood, turned down one street, and across the next, to work our way back around to the corner where the scary house stands. When we got there, the Bean and Sia slowly and carefully began to walk up the sidewalk towards the stairs, pointing out that the scary man was indeed there, but was not wearing the same mask as last year. However, he did have the same huge (plastic) axe and noisy (fake) saw in his hands, and was making the scariest zombie noises EVER.

The Bean reached for my hand, and bravely made his way to the stairs, letting go in just enough time to sneak under the axe onto the porch where the candy bowl was held by a witch with tiny (pretend) spiders in her hair. Sofia grabbed my arm as she walked up the stairs, letting go when she reached the top, her eyes never leaving the axe in Creepy Guy’s hand.

Both of them ran down the stairs after they were rewarded with extra candy, and I turned away from the crazies on the porch, only to see Milo slowly walking towards me, arms out. I picked him up and walked a little further, turning around at the end of the sidewalk; Milo held on with both arms to my shoulders, nervous, pointing at the scary man, who was following us, moaning. I turned around, reassuring Milo that it was just a man with a toy saw and toy axe, and sort of tried to urge Creepy Guy to say, “Happy Halloween,” rather than moaning so much, so Milo might be comforted a little bit, but as CarpenterGuy said, Creepy Guy just couldn’t break character, even as a favor to a three year old. Milo and I cheerfully said, “Goodbye, Creepy Man!” and walked away from him.

We made our way back to our friends’ house, Sia and the Bean gleefully recalling for the rest of the evening how they had “made it past the saw this year!!” Even Milo said his favorite part of Halloween was “Scary Man.”

All day today, though, I kept thinking about the Bean walking so bravely up the stairs to face his fear. After last year, I wasn’t sure he would even want to walk past that house (it was decorated up for Halloween in the most spooky ways), let alone go up and essentially thumb his nose at an axe-wielding maniac.

And as I sit here typing this, I am starting to wonder about MY biggest fears, about the things that wake me up every night at 2:30 am and keep me from sleep until 4 am---my worries, my insecurities, my financial woes, the things that have haunted me for a while, and continue to scare me.

I can only hope that I will soon find the same kind of bravery as Sia and my Bean found yesterday, squaring their shoulders to confront and finally overcome a fear bigger than they are, celebrating with loads of candy afterwards.


A Year in New York

A Year in New York from Andrew Clancy on Vimeo.

Life is beautiful, and full of such beauty it takes your breath away.  You just need to know where to look.  Video by Andrew Clancy


One of THOSE Days.

Today has been one of those days.  Outside, it’s a clear, cold fall day, with a gorgeous blue sky and that crisp feel that autumn has in Chicago.  Inside, I want to snuggle under the blankets and drink hot chocolate.  I didn’t sleep well last night, and my mind is foggy and a bit melancholy, and I’ve just wanted to waste time today, and mope.

Rather than mope, though, I decided to take a really long, hot shower this morning.  I just wanted to stay under the spray as long as possible, to let the water wash over me, and to breathe in the steam.  Sometimes, that helps.  I’m not a big bath person (I find them boring for some reason), but a nice long shower rejuvenates.

It’s also a day where a nice spa treatment would have worked wonders, but I’m in a bad place where I can’t afford to splurge on even the simplest, most inexpensive treatment, so before I hoped in for my long shower, I mixed up an easy moisturizing scrub that I adore:  a bit of sugar and some olive oil, to a paste.

After I shampooed my hair and put in some conditioner, I started with the scrub on my face, and worked my way down the rest of my body, slowly rubbing the mixture into my skin in circular motions.

Rinse, use a bit of soap to wash off some of the rest of the oil that is left, and carefully step out of the shower, skin all smooth and silky and moisturized.  It’s particularly lovely to use in the winter, when your skin gets all scaly and dry.  If you wish, you can add a drop or two of lavender oil to smell nice, but I actually enjoy the smell of really great olive oil.

I don’t know whether it’s the tending to oneself, being gentle with oneself or the way my skin feels after I use this simple scrub, but I’m a little bit more ready to face the day (and the to-do list) afterwards.


Just DO it.

Lately, oh, for the past 4 years or so, I’ve been feeling a lot like I’m wasting my life, wasting talent, and sort of just stagnating, which is never a good place to be.

That is not to say that some great things haven’t happened in the past few years: I’ve become a certified running coach, and coach for Team to End AIDS; the Bean has started kindergarten, and is thriving; I’ve helped some really wonderful people reach their personal and artistic goals as a professor at an arts college.

But I’ve not done as much as I’ve wanted to, in terms of art, writing, and life. And even running---I lost my running mojo earlier this year and have had to struggle to get it back.

So, the other day, when I saw this group online, at one of my favorite blogs (Blog of Impossible Things), I registered, with only a little bit of trepidation (did I really need another online thing to distract me?)

I’m thinking it might be helpful, though, to have the support of a bunch of strangers who honestly mean nothing to me, to have the accountability to people I don’t see everyday and have to interact with anywhere else but online.

I’ve already set up my writing goals for the next few days, for the beginning of November. They are :

  • sign up for NaNoWriMo
  • work out ideas for what I’m going to write for NaNoWriMo
  • post on zpetals three times per week
  • post on Head to Toe twice per week

For fitness goals, I’ve written my post-marathon recovery monthly workouts; given that I’m running the Honolulu Marathon in 8 weeks, I needed to have very specific recovery and mileage build up goals set up; today, I went to yoga, even though I didn’t want to---I knew I needed to, and it was on my workout plan, so, I went.

In an odd sense of serendipity, too, I read this blog post this morning; it absolutely speaks to the things I’ve been going through the last, say, 3 to 4 years, creatively and physically. If you just replaced “workouts” or “exercise” with “art” or “writing,” it’s the best advice for both: Just DO it.

No wonder Nike’s slogan is so powerful.

Anyway, I’m glad I’ve joined the Impossible League, if only for that support of these goals in November. And look, it’s already gotten me to write more! Good deal, so far.  I’ll take it one day at a time, from here on out.

Another thing I read a LONG time ago was the switching, mentally, of the word ‘Impossible” to “I’m possible.” I don’t know where I read that, but it stuck with me, and I keep thinking about that as well. I’m possible. It’s all possible. I just have to DO it.


Marathon No. 6

On Sunday, I finished my 6th marathon, in Mason City, Iowa.

It was a tough, tough day. I’ve already dubbed it the Worst Run Ever.

If you know me, and if you’ve run with me, you know I have ‘issues.’ Specifically, I tend to suffer from what is so delicately called ‘runner’s trots.’ It’s where you’re running along, happy as a clam, and BAM!! All of a sudden (and I do mean all of a sudden), you have to poop. It’s often painful and you can’t really stop it; you literally poop your pants if you don’t find a bathroom or stop running right then and there. It has to do with the jiggly motion of running, moving your intestines up and down, shaking things up.

For me, I’ve been able, with some success, to curb the trots by changing my diet (I’m dairy-free) and watching every single thing that I eat the day before a long run (it’s very specific---toast for breakfast, pb&j and pretzels for lunch, rice and grilled chicken for dinner; not a lot of fiber).

On Saturday evening, though, I was staying with my aunt and uncle, and my uncle made pasta with a meat sauce, which I ate, along with a salad.

I knew the second I got up on Sunday morning that my bowels were not happy, and that it was not going to be a good run for me.

In fact, I thought about registering for the half rather than the full, and even considered skipping the run altogether.

I did neither thing: I registered for the full and started out with my two friends, who had traveled to Mason City with me. I ran the first 2 miles well, stopped to pee at the first porta-potty, then ran the next mile or so pretty well. At that point, I was on track to finish between 4:35 and 4:45, which would have been fantastic.

Then I felt it. I had to stop at the next porta-potty, desperately. I made it, cleaned myself up as much as I needed to, and continued on.

I ran the next 6 miles, and at mile 10, felt it again, but this time, there were no bathrooms to be found. We were in the middle of cornfields, and cow paddocks, on a gravel road. I walked from about mile 11 to mile 13.5, because I would have pooped my pants if I had run.

Heaven, to a runner

Heaven, to a runner

After I found the next porta-potty, just after the halfway point, I considered just stopping, calling my aunt to come get me, and meeting my friends at the finish line when they were done. I didn’t, though; I trudged on, running through the woods on the trail portion of the marathon, to mile 19, where I stopped at the next porta-potty.

At that point, I knew I would need to walk it in, so I did. I walked the last 7 miles of the marathon, and let me tell you, it was very hard to do. Every time I tried to run, I could feel my intestines start to cramp up. I went through every single emotion possible during those 7 miles: hatred (of myself and of marathons in general), pride that I was not giving up, shame that I was not giving up, embarrassment that I was walking the last bit and not running it, joy that I was almost done, fear that I wouldn’t finish.

At the 25th miles, I called my aunt, crying, to make sure they were still at the finish area. My friends came out to meet me, and to walk me in, which was lovely; one of them made me laugh at the possibility that I was last place (up until then it was a cause for great shame in me). I finished, collected my medal, and collapsed into my aunt’s hug, crying. I finished in 6:23, I think; I wasn’t last place but was third to last.

In general, in life, I tend to think that most things are learning experiences, in a way; what can we take away from this? How does it make us better, or stronger?

For me, this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad marathon experience has taught me that I am indeed a fighter---I’m not going to give up on something just because it’s hard or because I’m in last place. I’m going to keep on plugging along until it’s complete. And then, I’m going to move onto the next thing (I’m running Honolulu in December, my 7th marathon).

Oh! And it’s also taught me that I really can’t eat whole wheat pasta with meat sauce the night before. I need to stick with the bland rice and chicken!


In and Out, Baby.

Yoga makes me look like this.This morning, I went to yoga for the first time in a month. Over the summer, I had gotten back into the wonderful habit of practicing yoga once per week (Thursday mornings, 10-11:30 am, at the Y); the reasons for not going for a month were varied: I had run 20 miles on a Wednesday, and skipped yoga the next day to lay around and recover; I had a LOT of work to do on one Thursday morning; I had to pick up a friend from the airport at 11 am; I was really pretty sick with a horrible cold that knocked me out all day.

But today, I went to yoga. And it felt great to stretch my muscles, to pull them in directions that running just doesn’t do, to spend the time concentrating on breathing. In and out, baby.

Sometimes, at the end of our session, Ine will pull us all together in a group pose or arrangement, and say some words of wisdom before our shavasanas and relaxation time. Today, we stood arm in arm in a big circle, and she mentioned a fellow classmate, who hasn’t been able to come to yoga in a long time, because she’s suffering from breast cancer.

The last time Ine mentioned Carrie, I cried. Yoga does that to me sometimes, makes me get all teary at sudden moments----it seems to open up something inside me---and that time, Ine was talking about Carrie’s daughter and husband, and I just couldn’t hold it in.

This time, in a circle, she let us know that Carrie had gotten worse, that she and her husband were now deciding whether or not to do one more last-shot round of an experimental kind of chemo or to just let it go, and live the last few months without the appointments, without the nausea.

I can’t really describe the next part here, because words don’t do it justice, but all of us in the circle were asked to picture Carrie in the middle, open our hearts, and send out light and hope from our hearts to her. It sounds a bit woo-woo, I know, but it was actually quite lovely, a collective wish for hope sent to a woman who needs it. I didn’t really get teary, though, but just felt a great big bit of hope and joy in my chest.

Then we went back to our own mats, spent some time in shavasana, and my mind went in and out of itself, gently hoping for a peaceful place to land.

It’s like a church sometimes, to me, yoga is. A place to work and contemplate and send out good thoughts and breathe.

I was reminded that not only does it strengthen my body, it strengthens my soul in interesting ways, not unlike a great long run. I’m able to get out of my head for a while, which is absolutely worth it and absolutely necessary (Anne Lamott has a quote I love about a friend who says his mind is like a bad neighborhood you wouldn’t want to go into alone at night---I love that).

Afterwards, I told CarpenterBoy that I need to remember how valuable this yoga time each week is to me, and carve out the time to practice it, even after a hard long run leaves me sore, or if I have too much to do. It helps me breathe, and puts me in a frame of mind where I can be a better person, a better mother, a better friend, a better teacher. I am rededicating myself to it, once a week, regardless of what else is happening in my life and around me.

Breathe deeply, in and out, baby.