Deva by Definition

Let's Get Our Run On: The Relay

When we last left off, I was talking about my sleepless night before the race. After sleeping a mere two hours before the race, I woke up very sleepy and very unsure of my ability to run. We had a four am wake-up to be at our buses no later than six. We had about a mile to walk to get to the buses and wanted to allow plenty of time to get there and get situated. If any of us missed our final bus, we were in big trouble.

After suiting up, downing some breakfast, and gathering up our exchange-point bags, we set out to our buses. Sheena made her way to the starting line, and The Boy and I stood and chatted for a few minutes after Erica left for her starting point, and then we split up, got on our buses, and went our respective ways. I knew that we would have a while to wait - I was the third leg and he was fourth, so I settled in at the exchange point to trouble shoot my Garmin and check the weather. Rain was in the forecast and I wanted to see how long we had before getting soaked.

Waiting, waiting, waiting...

Not long after reaching my exchange point, the race began, and the people around me and I started talking about the leader, who was averaging around a five-minute-mile pace. We expected to see him right around when I expected Sheena to reach Erica at the first exchange point, so we were eagerly following updates on the leaders from Twitter, Facebook, and various local news sources. I ate a few orange slices, not wanting to overwhelm my stomach (I do not have an iron stomach and before runs can typically only tolerate some jelly beans or gu), but knowing I had about two hours from race start until my leg would take off.

Not long after we saw the leader pass us by, I got a text from Sheena. Erica had reached her exchange point and was on her way. It was chilly and humid, and I was texting The Boy about the possibility of running in my fleece hoodie, knowing very well that in the humidity this would be a bad idea. The excitement in the crowd around me was palpable, as the first relay runner came in not long after the first marathon runner reached our exchange point. Every runner was announced by bib number, and the excitement as timing chips were passed from runner to runner was great. I was grinning, cheering people on, and eagerly awaiting Erica's arrival. I couldn't wait to be off and running through Mt. Lookout and Mariemont.

When I thought Erica was about a half an hour out, I started getting ready - situating myself in my mini pigpen (which were ordered by bib numbers). I did a lot of jogging in place to warm up, stuffed my hoodie into our exchange-point bag, and had some gu. My exchange point was right at mile twelve of the marathon, so when Erica texted me from mile eleven, I was able to tell her exactly where I would be, and I immediately kept my eyes peeled, scanning the massive crowds of runners for her. Not long after, I saw her running toward me in the distance. Rather than wait for the announcers to let me know she was here, I started waving - and she waved back. We both were grinning ear-to-ear - we were almost halfway done!

Before I knew it, I was being passed the timing chip. I handed over the exchange bag and took off at a 10:30 pace, knowing based on our training that I could only sustain at that pace for so long. I ran into Hyde Park down a very long hill - misleading, as I knew my portion of the course was both long and hilly, though the elevation chart didn't look it. My first mile went by quickly, and I was shocked when I reached the first water station and timing clock at mile thirteen just over ten minutes after I left.

The next few miles went quickly. I had no plans to stop for water or gatorade until I was about three miles into my seven-miler. The humidity was making me very warm, and I almost regretted my choice of a long-sleeved tech tee and capris for the run. The course itself was gorgeous, and since I love running hills, I really enjoyed the ups-and-downs my part of the relay took me through.

Around my fifth mile, I developed a sharp stomach cramp. I was also in the heart of Mariemont, where countless people had come out to cheer the marathoners on as they ran through the square. The motivation was fantastic, and I knew that I didn't want to walk - I wanted to do my best and didn't want to let my team mates down. I did my best to run through it, but struggled, and ended up pausing and walking through the next two water stops, in hope that a few sips of gatorade would help. Fortunately for me, it did, and I was off and running a slow and steady pace in no time. I knew that I wasn't going to make up lost time, so I kept at it, running down onto wooster pike just over an hour after I started my run. As soon as I reached the marker for mile nineteen it started to rain. I pulled my phone out long enough to text The Boy that I was almost to the exchange point and he needed to be ready, and then I started to book it into Linwood and to the third and final exchange.

As soon as I saw the signs pointing toward the exchange point, I started getting ready for the hand off. I was shocked that I was almost done - it seemed like I had just started my run! The rain wasn't steady yet, but was about to be. I pulled off and reset the Garmin for The Boy to use, and readied myself with the timing chip in hand, ready to be passed off. Eventually the corrals came into view and the moment I saw The Boy I had to resist the urge to sprint! I was so happy to see him and so excited to be able to send him off for leg four. Our exchange was smooth and fast, and soon, I was on the bus to the finish line, eagerly awaiting updates from The Boy while I watched the rain fall steadily outside.

Getting back to the finish line was a bit of a challenge, and when The Boy texted that he had made it to mile three, a mere 28 minutes after the exchange, I was worried I would miss him cross the finish line. Fortunately, that was not the case. I made it to the finish with time to spare (though not much). I had enough time to grab some water, my medal, and mylar blanket before setting up in an area where I could see The Boy and get photos of him finishing the race. One hour and seven minutes after he started, and four hours, forty-two minutes after the race start, we were finished, happy, and soaked. We did it! We are still thrilled with our accomplishments and are eagerly refreshing the page at MarathonFoto awaiting our race course photos.

The crazy part? We were both incredibly sore on Monday, and I was done with running  - at least then. Now? We're discussing a half marathon in the fall. We will see!

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What exactly is Happily Ever After, anyway?

When I was a small child, I liked the idea of Happily Ever After. I have a collection of Fairy Tales I received from my great-grandmother, and I would pore over it for hours, reading stories of dancing princesses, Cinderella, Rumplestiltzken, and many more. While some of the fairy tales ended in ever after, others did not. The ones that ended with happy ever after often were the ones where a girl would find a prince, they would get married, and then the story ended, leaving what came after to the imagination of the reader.

At that time, I couldn’t really fathom what that meant. Were they always happy? Did they argue? Did the princess always wear a gown and the prince a suit? What made up happily ever after. Now, as an adult, I can say that I believe in happiness and I believe in it for ever and after. I just don’t think of it in black-and-white like I did as a girl. Growing up, I’ve realized that the concept of happily ever after is a good one, but has its flaws. This is part of what makes it work so well. What makes the concept even more interesting, is like the idea of having it all, every person has their own idea of what will make them happy in the long term. In the fairy tales it was a peasant girl (or a girl who thought she was a peasant) finding her prince and getting married.

For some people, happy ever after does involve getting married. Finding one person you hope to spend the rest of your life with may be part of it for others. Like the concept of Having it All, it's person-specific. My happy ever after involves a husband and a child or two, along with my career, our home, and lots of conversations about things we both find interesting. Also, baseball. My friends' ever afters may involve that, or not. I have friends who don't desire to be married, who don't want kids, and who want to travel the country instead of settling down. This isn't wrong at all - it's what they want and what will make them happy .

Of course, the stories also exclude the idea that things aren't always happy and perfect. They don't talk about laundry or cooking, morning breath or bed head. Those are things that are, again, left to the reader's imagination (or not). It seems like living happily ever after starts with marriage, but we have to imagine what happens after. Do they have kids? Do they ever argue? We don't know. As a child I thought that after the Disney Cinderella ended that she would want to get out of her ballgown and into an equally pretty dress and maybe not glass slippers (how do you walk in those? I am seriously curious!), but something to run around and play in.

One thing to consider is that the relationship aspect of many of these tales are not crucial to the plot. Please keep in mind though, that I'm thinking of the traditional fairy tales and possibly the Disney takes on them. I'm not really thinking of the more modern stories. When watching my favorite movies from childhood, I've noticed that many of the women are cast-out princesses (or in Ariel's case, a rebellious princess), whether for safety or jealousy's sake. They are hoping for rescue by a Prince, or stumbled upon by a man in the forest, and then they seem to pine for him. What I have always loved about the story Beauty and the Beast is that in the incarnations I have seen and read, she falls in love with his personality and they have a relationship, not something imaginary. The same goes with the movie Ever After - we see the relationship-building taking place.

In the films and stories where the ladies pine and then find their prince and get married, I've always been curious about what comes after. Love at first sight, indeed, but it feels to me like there's so much missing. That, for me, is where happily ever after begins, in the context of partnership: the relationship. Before making the decision to stay with someone for the rest of our lives, we spend time building the relationship. For some of us, that relationship is built over many years, for others, it is a shorter process.

Within the relationship-building, we learn what I believe many of those Fairy-Tale Princesses have not: the nitty-gritty. We learn our partner's habits, likes, and dislikes. Their favorite and least favorite chores and what they can and cannot cook. And we learn their personalities, likes, dislikes, how they are when having a bad day (and subsequently, how we are when they have a bad day), and how they help us after a bad day. We share good days and bad, triumphs and defeats, and I think that's where fairy tales become romantic comedies.

You see, in all of the sharing, growing, arguing, fretting, and little moments, that's where I think we find our happily ever after. That can be sharing and growing as a person, with someone or without. Unlike a romantic comedy, we laugh at our mishaps later (if at all), but like those same movies, we work to build relationships with who and what is important in our lives. That can be a person, a pet, a hobby - anything that contributes to our long-term happiness. Is this happily ever after? For me, the relationship-building is totally that, but for someone else happily ever after could be something entirely different. Whatever that is, I hope it is something we all can achieve, again and again.

What do you think, what is happily ever after?

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Keeping Up with the Joneses

What better to illustrate a post about keeping up than a picture of a wedding invitation?

found this article, titled Obnoxious Friend Won't Stop Attaining Major Milestones, on The Onion through Rachel's blog, and it seriously got the wheels in my head to start turning. I realized that as much as that article is satire, part of why it is satire is because it can be so true. How many of us have looked at the milestones our friends are achieving (and discussing on Facebook, as we are all wont to do) and been jealous? Alternately, how many of us have hit major milestones earlier than anticipated and felt like "that friend?" It's a lot on our shoulders, especially as young adults.

As I was typing up a comment for the post on Rachel's blog that shared the article, I realized why I often struggle when others are achieving major milestones, and why I think it can be hard to watch others reach life goals that we set for ourselves, or society expect from us, when we are still hanging behind. I also realized that it's part of why I struggle when I reach a milestone before friends of mine do. A lot of it has to do with our culture around growing up, as well as how we are taught throughout Primary and Secondary school.

Think about it for a minute: starting in Kindergarten, or perhaps even earlier, we're all placed into a social setting where we are expected to achieve certain milestones by the end of each school year. Our parents are given report cards with goals we are told we need to achieve to move on to the next level, if you will. Eventually, if we aren't seeing the report cards from the beginning, they share those report cards with us to show us where we fall on the grand scale of things (at least, that's how my early year report cards worked, in addition to grades my parents were told if I was in line, behind, or in front of my classmates as part of the report. They were also told I talk a lot. Nothing too surprising).

The older we get, up until graduating high school, our milestones remain basically the same. In high school, at least in my home state, we had to have a certain number of credits or classes in each subject in order to graduate, so even if we were taking different subsets of a subject (US History v. World History, for example), we were all striving to meet the same milestones there. In high school I noticed there was some disparity in certain life milestones -I didn't get my driver's license until i was closer to seventeen, for example, while most of my friends had theirs at sixteen, but overall, our life goals were the same.

Then, we all graduated. Some of us went to college, some to trade school, others right into the workforce. Those of us in college had one milestone to reach: the requisite credit numbers and major requirements to graduate. College was the first place I really noticed a difference in our milestones and how we reached them. After college is when the disparity in milestones reached really made its presence known. Suddenly, we're in the real world, working with people of all different ages, in different life stages, and with different goals. There isn't really a collective "goal" once you get out of school, and our aspirations are often very different.

I also noticed more of an effort to Keep Up With the Joneses, both within my person, and from friends or family members. Right after we graduated, we had three sets of friends get married within the first year out of school. The Boy and I had been together for a year when we moved in together, so I knew we weren't going to be getting married soon, but I still felt like we should be. We had friends buy houses, get pets, start new careers, and it was hard to read Facebook statuses because at times I felt left behind.

We became those friends the year we bought our house. Suddenly, we were reaching milestones, including buying the house and getting engaged, while other friends weren't, and it felt odd to be The Joneses. I still feel weird, at twenty-seven, saying that I am a homeowner, even though my parents have owned their home since they were around my age. We got engaged amidst a grouping of our friends, and it felt oddly like we were trying to keep up, but at the same time, it was when we were ready to get married and settle down into married life (though I don't think it will be any different from unmarried life. I'll just have a new last name and new insurance).

The one major thing that I have noticed is there are general milestones most of us are striving to achieve. Homeownership. Partnering up. Settling down. Not everyone wants to own a house, get married, have children, or have pets, but we all want a sense of permanence where we are. This isn't always physical permanence in a relationship, or in a home, but permanence with who we are as a person. We may not be striving to meet educational and developmental milestones now that we've reached adulthood, but we do still have goals we want to meet. Sometimes even educational. Those milestones are more fluid, they happen in waves, and we can be happy for our friends who meet a major milestone, and at the same time hope to meet one ourselves, sometime soon.

One thing that I don't think will change will be the sense to be keeping up with the others. It's something engrained in us from childhood, to keep up, match, fit in. A goal of mine this year is to stop trying to keep up and to just be. This insight into why we might want to keep up has spawned a lot of thought, and I wonder if any of us can ever really be free of wanting to keep up, or wanting to have it all. Keeping up seems to be inherent in our culture, and something that won't change, unless we make the effort to change it.

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Reactions: Lifestyle Blogging and Real Life

Recently, I read an article on BitchMagazine.com titled Better Homes & Bloggers, which discussed the authenticity of popular lifestyle bloggers in the blogosphere. The article discussed how these bloggers share their lives in carefully curated fashion - showing often PG-versions of the bloggers by the bloggers' decision. They are showing only a small part of their lives in documentation, things relevant to their brand.

The author of the article also discusses how many of the more popular lifestyle bloggers are white and middle to upper middle class women. Often they are stay-at-home wives with working husbands. I can say that I have noticed this phenomenon in many different blogging realms, including healthy living bloggers. This isn't to say that blogging isn't hard work. Many of the women who have popular lifestyle, healthy living, or food blogs are earning a good income from their writing, and the time spent on their posts can equal that of a full-time job. This is especially true when you consider how much time can be spent coming up with new blog content, photographing, writing, and editing posts. That doesn't even consider time spent promoting posts via Twitter and Facebook, and responding to reader comments and emails. 

Of course, the main point of the article was really discussing, at least in my opinion, what is absent from so many of these blogs, my own included. That would be the hard stuff. The struggles. I've noticed that many bloggers are criticised for not discussing the realities and hardships of their lives, and continuing to portray their lives as carefully curated perfection, as it were. I know I am guilty of this, because it is hard to talk about when things are hard. A friend of mine keeps a private blog and I admire her candor in discussing when things are good and when they are bad - her triumphs and struggles, but I struggle to discuss my own, especially when it comes to dealing with things like depression and anxiety (of which I'll write more on later this week).

I will be the first to admit that a lot of it has to do with portraying an ideal. When you look at magazines regarding popular homemaking and house keeping, they portray homes that are airy and bright, full of positivity - like "Martha Stewart Living" and "Real Simple." These are showing an ideal and many of the more popular lifestyle blogs also portray that ideal, in soft focus, instragrammed pictures. I know that my world isn't always bright and airy. My house is old. You might say vintage. My furniture is mismatched, but not in a shabby chic way. We have a lot of IKEA, some from Target, some vintage (I quite like my buffet), but it's not shabby chic. More like "new homeowner," and I am okay with that.

Of course, not all popular lifestyle blogs are portraying an ideal. The ones that come to my mind's forefront that don't are dooce and The Bloggess. These women have incredibly popular blogs full of followers, commenters, and fans, and are both successful published authors. They got their not by portraying an ideal, but by being realistic in their depictions of their lives, their struggles, and yes, their dealings with depression, and anxiety. Their lives aren't always pretty and vintage, but they are very real and relatable, which can only increase their likeability and popularity. 

My blog here, admittedly, falls closer to the first than second camp. It's hard to maintain any anonymity on the internet, and while I do work a full-time job, I also devote a lot of my free time to both blogging and to my photography business. Good and happy things are a lot easier to write about than struggles, bad news, or things that are more morose. Certainly if I wrote about my struggles with anxiety or depression, or days that The Boy and I are arguing about silly things it would be more relatable, but it's also a lot harder for me to write about. There's a level of exposure writing about struggles implies - opening up for more criticism, suggestions for how to handle the good and bad days, but mostly the criticism and the thought that not everyone will like you.

Of course, I am the first to admit I know not everyone is going to like me, and I need to write in a way that is authentic to who I am and who I want my blog to portray. Will I write about my struggles? Yes, but it will be limited - my struggles are very personal, private, and while relatable, they also make me more vulnerable in a way that I prefer to be only with loved ones and close friends. My writing will always reflect who I am, but I do want to maintain some privacy about certain issues and not always air my dirty laundry, especially on the internet.

All of this is to say that any blog is going to present a carefully curated image of life. I wouldn't say I curate my life on my blog, but I do pick and choose what I talk about. I will not say that it is the reader's responsibility to know that a blogger is depicting just part of life, but that it is the author's responsibility to point out that what they are writing is just a small portion of a much bigger life. I mean, if you really think about it, there are 168 hours each week. No writer can document every minute of their waking hours, and if they did, who would want to read it? There is a fine line between sharing enough to keep things interesting, and oversharing. It is my hope to keep things interesting, without becoming boring.

Weddings, Change, and Finality

I've been in a wedding-heavy mindset this week, so I hope you'll excuse me for two wedding-related posts in a row. I have a lot on the docket for the weekend (in terms of plans) and a lot on schedule for next week (regarding posts) and most of that isn't wedding-related. Which means you'll get somewhat of a respite next week.

Anyway, I've been giving a lot of thought to changes that come after the wedding, and the finality of marriage in terms of relationship status. We are all very quick to define ourselves by our relationships (something Rachel discusses in this post), and after spending six years as a girlfriend, plus an additional year as a fiance (and girlfriend), I find that I also am quick to do that. Over the past almost-seven years, when we go out together with new friends, I am introduced as A's girlfriend, or he is introduced as my boyfriend. We actually call each other "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" in an endearing fashion around the house. Those words have become as much a title as a label. After getting engaged last year, making the switch from "girlfriend" and "boyfriend" to "fiance" was a hard one. We still get called out at work for calling our other half anything other than fiance. We're skirting around that issue now by using the term "future," as in, "future husband" in conversation. 

Marriage as a concept.

As a child, I didn't really dream of my wedding one day. My Barbies lived in an apartment by themselves as roommates, in what my idea of a college dorm was like (oh how wrong I was about that, by the way. My single dorm rooms were very small). Part of that probably was aided by the fact that we had multiple Barbies but only one or two Ken dolls, but mostly it was because as a child I couldn't imagine pairing up like that, at least, not to my memory. I didn't have visions of my wedding or my wedding dress. The only wedding pictures of family that I had seen (even to this day, have seen) are those from my paternal aunt's wedding, which were displayed prominently in my grandparents' house growing up. There is a good reason for this, by the way: my parents eloped. They didn't have a formal wedding ceremony. My mom's parents didn't have pictures fromt heir wedding on display, and neither did my dad's parents, so my idea of a wedding was that it wasn't something that everyone had. 

I also didn't really think of marriage as a concept until somewhere around high school, when I started dating some local boys (we were young, still children, so I think I can say boys and girls here). At that age is when I somewhat cruelly stated I didn't see myself marrying someone from my area, let alone living in the state for the rest of my life. Fortunately, it wasn't to any of the guys I was dating at that time. My grandmother someone sagely told me that you didn't start dating until you were looking for someone to marry, and for a time, I took that to heart. I dated a few guys in high school and college that I couldn't see marrying, and I knew those relationships wouldn't last (and true to form, they didn't). We weren't good fits for a myriad of reasons. 

Marriage is final (so they say)

I feel cynical saying that marriage is final, and adding the parenthetical after, but I know that many folks get married only to get divorced later, whether it's in a few years or many. Relationships take work. People change. We aren't always meant to be. Stuff happens. I understand all of that. To me, though, I am looking at marriage as final. The end. It's a big change. This isn't to say I don't want to get married, I very very much do. The closer we get to our wedding day the more excited I get about it. In a very big way, I am excited to call myself A's wife. It's a title change. 

Marriage also marks the end of an era for two individuals. You cease to date to find the person you will marry, and you begin to grow your relationship with the person you choose to marry. It's a big change. A good change. It's also very final and if you think too hard about it, can be foreboding. No more dating? No more single life? I mean, think about how much time and effort is put into stag and hen parties to celebrate the end of your single days! The final title change gets me. I've been dating for eleven years now. At the ripe young age of twenty-seven that is a good chunk of my life! It is going to be a big transition to go from "girlfriend" to "wife" and married - in just a few minutes!

But it's not the end...

What I mean by "it's not the end" is simple. Not all of us stop changing familial titles once we are married. Not all of us enter into heterosexual marriages, either. A family may have two husbands, two wives, a wife and a husband, or life partners. Many of us will choose to have children, at which point in time we cease being a wife or husband, a boyfriend or girlfriend, and become a parent. Our parents become grandparents. We remain our parents' children, and our children become grandchildren. If we choose not to have children, it's possible we will be come aunts and uncles. If that doesn't happen, we may have other life changes, we may choose not to be wife or husband or partner, and just go by our names. All of that is okay. 

I know, again, this assumes a heterosexual relationship and a privilege that not every one has. It also may assume a relationship in a state where anyone can marry whomever they want without worry. It's a little naive. Not everyone has the right to be legally married to the one they love, and I think that, for lack of a better term, sucks. I think you should be able to marry whomever you love, regardless of sex or gender. I hope one day that it won't be a struggle for anyone to be joined in marriage to the one they love, regardless of where they live. 

Marriage can be exciting. It can be sobering. It is an adventure and a big step. For as long as A and I have been together, I do not foresee any big changes beyond titles for us. We have been together almost seven years. We've lived together six. A few pieces of paper legally binding us together aren't going to change our relationship and feelings for one another. What is going to change is just that: we will be linked legally forever. At least I hope very much so. 

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Decision-Making and Marriage

Decision-Making and Marriage

Oh, decisions. Funny things, those. We make decisions every day - left or right, pass this car or not, coffee or tea (well, if you're me). But I don't think many of us think of these as true decisions. The Big Decisions are the ones we stop and think about, often for a long time, debating the pros and cons if you're a researcher, or just going with your gut after a brief period of thought. That gut decision? Is the one I made about my now-fiance, a good seven years ago. And then the debating decision? Is the one I made about marrying him - a year ago.

But it's not how it sounds, no. When I met A I knew there was something different about him. He was quiet and reserved, but kind. I've said it many times, but I knew I liked him when I found that I was unable to look directly at his face while talking to him. I knew I loved him when he respected my boundaries. And seven years ago, I knew that one day I wanted to marry him - a snap decision made one night when he kissed my bloated, recovering-from-anorexia belly and talked about how one day he could see kissing my belly when there was a baby of ours. That decision was reaffirmed not three hours later that night, when I woke up in excruciating pain from an ear infection and he remained calm as I panicked and whined about my ear being repeatedly stabbed from the inside.

The decision that I wanted to marry him one day was one that may have seemed light, but wasn't. We spent our first six months together an hour apart, seeing each other only on the weekends, and a few times for dinner during the week. Long phone conversations and chats on AIM (remember AIM?) were how we kept in touch, and it was work - not hard work, but work - to maintain that relationship. One that both of us didn't think would last because of the distance, but surprised us by growing in intensity. Our relationship was work when we moved in together a year after starting to date, a mere three hours away from our families. It was work when we decided, upon moving into our second apartment, to paint the whole thing before moving in (and the yellow paint took a week to come out of my hair).

But our decision to stay together, for the long run, wasn't hard work, it was and is fun work. Yes, we have our hard times, our arguments, our conversations that last long after we both should be sleeping, but always, we are enjoying our time together. A year ago in February, a friend of ours got engaged, and I realized my biological clock was screaming at me. I wanted a baby - not right away, but in the near future. I wanted to be married before I had a baby. A month to the day after she announced her engagement, we announced ours, after being secretly engaged for a week. Neither one of us proposed, and random number generator was involved for a while as we worked to set a wedding date that made sense to the both of us.

Months after we got engaged, as we were debating about a (second) venue, I asked A when he realized he wanted to marry me. I told him I knew on that night, but I really knew after we'd lived together a year and been together two. He told me he knew after we'd been together three years and lived together for two years. We decided just a few months shy of our sixth anniversary to get engaged - our pre-engaged period was a long one. At one point in time his mother introduced us as "A and his wife..." and we all laughed at the slip, but most of our friends already considerd us married, even though we didn't have the paperwork to state that we were legally.

Our decision to get married this year, having our wedding four days after our seventh anniversary, was a mutual one. It was one of the biggest decisions we have made together, second only to buying our house at the end of 2011. Now, three months out from our wedding, we are both giddy with excitement at what is going to come after our decision is finalized, the paperwork signed, and when we are legally joined together as one in marriage. This decision is one that will result in several changes, all of which require other decisions to be made, such as changing my last name. It's also a very final decision, at least to me - one without limbo, but with challenges in the years to come. As with many decisions, that is something that I am okay with - because this is a decision I am willing, ready, and able to work for. 

Engagement Picture in this post courtesy of our awesome photographer, Sarah Warda Photography

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On Adulthood

On Adulthood

As we get closer and closer to the wedding, and farther removed from being first-time homebuyers, I have been making a few observations about adulthood, what it means (to me) to be an adult, and well, when I think I truly realized I was an adult. This is entirely different from when I realized I need to call myself a woman, and in fact, happened at a younger age. However, I still have light-bulb moments when I am in my car, leaving somewhere, and realize “right, I’m an adult. That’s my decision now.”

Is it an age?

As I brought up in my discussion on womanhood, in the US, we are considered adults at the age of eighteen, but it doesn’t mean that is when society treats us like adults. Many of us at eighteen were still in high school on our birthdays, at an age where our parents were still privy to our report cards. If your university was anything like mine, the university’s judicial committee and provost could send a form letter to your parents if you were caught doing things that were illegal, or in my university’s case, caught drinking under age.

Then, of course, adulthood at eighteen isn’t always a given, though when you are sixteen you may not be able to wait for the day that you can call yourself an adult, because in the eyes of the law, you are. BUT, you don’t have all of the privileges of being an adult – at least, not the privileges your parents have, many by the right of being a certain age. I am not saying that your parents are old, but think about it: at eighteen you cannot rent a car or buy alcohol. In some areas, you can’t book a hotel room until you are twenty-one, and if you want to rent a car before you are twenty-five? Well, you are looking at some fees – if the car company will even let you rent to begin with.

Is it a state of being?

When I was a kid, I always thought as an adult you needed your own car, your own house, maybe a pet, and definitely a lawn to mow. Now, as an adult, I’ve realized that it’s really not the case. Adulthood comes with a huge sense of personal responsibility, regardless of where you are living and what you are doing. Maybe because of the economy you are living with your parents – that’s okay! At eighteen I hesitated to call myself an adult, but at twenty-two, I was all over adulthood like my cats on catnip.

When I ask The Boy when he felt he was an adult, he tells me it is when we moved to Cincinnati. When we had independence, our own place, and all the perks (and responsibilities) that brought us. I’m pretty much the same way, which is to say, I felt like an adult and started calling myself an adult with regularity after I graduated college, was working full-time, and was out on my own. But that’s for me – what made me feel like an adult was being out in my own place, in my own job, making my decisions for myself.

But living on your own might not be it…

For others though, it may be different. The economy now means more folk are living at home, trying to find their way through their careers. My sister is an adult, out on her own, but is still in college. Which brings me back to the state of being – is being an adult all in the mindset?

The one thing I have noticed among myself and my friends is that when we started calling ourselves adults, that our mindsets about being an adult had changed. We were more mindful of what was expected of us by other adults, by the responsibilities that we held as adults, and we were more aware that there were people out there that might be looking up to us. Our behavior changed, at least publicly (I’ll be the first to admit that at home I can have the mind of a twelve year-old when it comes to jokes). We were more confident in who we were (or are) and where we were in our lives (or are). It seems that adulthood is as much about how you feel as it is age.

What about you, what do you think of when you think about adulthood?

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Why I don't understand a Woman's Closet

I found this article about why women have so many clothes through a Facebook friend earlier in the week. After spending a weekend at home poring over many pictures of my childhood, I was, once again, brought back to thinking about clothes, attire, and yes, femininity.

I laughed going through the old pictures of myself, because it was very obvious that as a young teen I didn't get it. I mean, I knew how to dress myself in clothes that fit, but I didn't yet know how to do my hair, and because I was slightly overweight until right after puberty, I often picked clothes that I could hide in. I will spare you the pictures, but imagine me, but shorter, younger, in sweatpants (and not the cute PINK line ones), and a sweatshirt, and you have what I wore up until puberty. Mostly because of comfort, and also because fashion wasn't something I really was concerned about until my teens. It was also hard to find clothes that fit a plus-size child, one with hips and a full (for a ten-year-old) bosom.

Of course, then I reached my teens, started shopping the Junior's department at the store, and started to develop a sense of personal style. When I discovered Delia's and American Eagle? Oh, all bets were off. I started to dress more like my peers, which got me accepted into circles I didn't know existed, but I was cast out of others at the same time (apparently, when you are a geeky girl who actually does pull a "She's All That" it can hurt some feelings). But I liked how I looked. I, for the most part, fit in, with my newfound love of jeans, slim-fitting tops, fuzzy sweaters, and shoes that were just as pretty as they were functional.

Then, I got to college, where suddenly there was a whole new set of rules I had to learn about what to where and when. There, I started to understand the difference between "work" and "play" clothes. Where "Work" were the clothes I wore to class (and occasionally to Friday night services at the Hillel), and "play" were what you wore when you went out for the weekends - the halter tops, skirts, sky-high heels, and slim, low-riding jeans. But, there were a couple of problems. 1: I rarely went out over the weekends, at least, not to the bars. I was more for going to hear a local band play at the coffee shops, where casual was just as accepted on Friday night as it was Monday morning. 2: Because I rarely went out, I didn't know about the need for a wardrobe to accommodate those functions (as well as those for house parties). Therefore, I wore a lot of my day-to-day clothing out on a Friday night, even on a Saturday, and was very confused when I was told my Doc Marten's were appropriate for class, but not for going out.

It never dawned on me that I wasn't doing it "right" until just a few short weeks after my 21st birthday, when I got ready to go out by pulling on my favorite pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and was walking toward the bathroom to brush my teeth when I stopped to talk to a girl on my hall. When she realized that I was going out in what I normally wore to class, she asked me about my attire, being curious to know if I had any "going out" wear while indicating her halter top and cute flats. I smiled and shrugged, said I didn't own anything like that and a few days later found myself at my best friend's, looking through her closet at an assortment of shoes, jeans, sparkly tops, skirts, jackets, and more. My closet felt small in comparison. I was (and am) a firm believer in functional clothing, and as I didn't go to the bars, didn't see a need for outfits solely for going out. My friends, ever-understanding, just went with it. At that time, seeing me in makeup was enough for a celebration, and it was nice to know I didn't always have to dress up. Of course, that conversation with my neighbor did lead to a mini shopping trip to pick up a few tops that were a little more appropriate (think: halters) for evenings out uptown.

But even now, I don't fully grasp the woman's closet. I know that I am supposed to portray an ever-changing variety of standards, depending on the situation, but don't always get why. Is it for other women? For the male gaze? I don't know. There are unspoken rules and nuances I am still trying to figure out - such as why one top is okay to wear out on a Friday (along with accessories) but others are not. I don't understand why wearing Chuck T's brands me as a hipster (even if I am), but if I wear flats I get a different label. Even now, I dress in a way that can probably be perceived as modest or prudish, if I want to get into the nitty-gritty, and I don't have a lot of clothes I'd consider wearing to a bar if I were going for a fun night out with the girls.

Of course, that brings up a whole other question: do I need the going-out clothes in that sense anymore, or just a collection of casual, dressy casual, and business appropriate clothes? I really don't know and am trying to figure that out. On one hand, I still go out with my friends and with The Boy, and I like knowing I have a few fun outfits to wear, for example, to Mynt downtown and not stick out. On the other hand, I'm starting to settle down and there are conversations about growing our family in the future. I don't know if I will be going out to the same degree once we have children. I'm sure I'll want the sparkly tops and the fun jeans, the sweet peep-toe pumps and clothes that are fun and flirty, but I don't know to what extent.

This isn't to say that once I am married and we have kids that I'm going to stop trying. Oh no. I'm just getting started, especially learning how to dress for all of the roles and figures that I have to portray as a woman. Fun, flirty, professional, casual, and even more. My wardrobe and clothing collection isn't huge, but it's enough for now. Reading about women's clothing and why we have so much of it just means that I'm getting dressed in the morning with an even greater eye toward the message I am sending as a woman. It also influences what I choose in terms of how much I actually want to send that message, without sacrificing what I like to wear day-to-day, and without shortchanging who I am. In a world where men can get away with khakis and a polo for pretty much any occasion, I do sometimes long for that simplicity. Because really, even though I don't have a lot in my closet, I do have a lot of clothes.

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Dressing like an Adult

My style tends toward the comfortable, and my day-to-day outfits typically involve basics: jeans, tee shirts, hoodies, and pullovers. Lately, however, I’ve been working on dressing for comfort and fashion, in an attempt to move away from my college-esque outfits and into something that are a little more grown up.

It’s been a little bit challenging, though, because I feel at times like I am playing dress-up instead of actually dressing UP, you know? I want to get out of my clothing rut, but I also don’t want to go buy new clothes if I don’t have to, so I’ve been raiding my closet for pieces that got worn once and then put away, as well as pieces I love to wear over again. The green jacket in this picture was one of the former. The first time I wore it I think I overdid the green and got called a leprechaun!

One thing I’ve learned during the past few weeks, as I try to put together outfits that are more than just jeans and a tee is that accessories really can make an outfit, and surprisingly, I have a lot of accessories. Now, in addition to my jeans and tee, I’ll add a jacket, necklace, and earrings. I’ve added to my collection of accessories, including a really awesome owl necklace I found at Target, and a scarf I bought before we took our engagement pictures. Accessorizing really does help pull an outfit together and helps me look finished.

Of course, not every outfit is a hit, but I’ve found more good ones than bad, and I’m getting more and more adventuresome with what I wear on a daily basis. I love knowing on a day when I feel blah that I put some effort into my outfit beyond pulling random items out of my dresser and throwing them on. I feel more confident and put-together, and I’ve been having a lot of fun trying out new looks and styles, figuring out what helps me look my age, and what doesn’t work for me at all.

Figuring out this whole “dressing like a grown-up” thing has been fun and a challenge for me – it’s gotten me to break out of my jeans and tee-shirt box and to figure out new looks and new ways to put some of my favorites together! I’m eager to see what other outfits I’ll be rocking in the coming weeks.

Playing Catch-Up

The past week has been a bit on the busy side. I know we have fourteen months to plan our wedding, but we are both planners, and we want to get as much accomplished as early as possible, so we’ve been doing a lot of talking, planning, and brainstorming. On my wedding page, I wrote a little bit about a tool we’re using to keep organized while planning. 

In addition to wedding planning fun, I’ve been working on staying on top of my training and eating as healthy as I can. This past week, I took an extra day off after running my 15k. My legs were sore from hills and walking up and down our stairs was, in a word, challenging, so I took a day to sleep nearly ten hours and was very much refreshed for my following few runs.

This week, I have a nine-miler on the agenda, and tomorrow, The Boy and I are meeting Erica and her fiance to see “The Hunger Games.” She and I both read the books, loved them, and are excited to see the film adaptation. I’ve already heard many good things about the movie, so I cannot wait to get to the theater tomorrow!

In terms of healthy eating, I’ve been trying to incorporate as much produce into my diet as I can, along with protein and whole grains, all while trying to eat a little less sugar. I found these Nature Valley Protein Bars at the grocery store last week and love them – they aren’t too sweet, and the ten grams of protein each one packs has been going a long way toward keeping me full!

In the coming week, I’ll be writing a bit more about the various projects we have going on. We’re working on clearing our backyard so we can start a vegetable garden, and are also starting to count down the days to Opening Day.

For now, though, I think I am going to head to bed!

What have you been up to lately?