New Years 2015

"Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year"

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

A little New Years Eve home improvement of the electrical variety

New Years Eve: Downtown White Plains

New Years Eve fireplace s'mores

Plus some New Years Rockin' Eve Taylor Swift in the background

The finished product

A New Years Day grocery store run in pajamas and Uggs for
pancake ingredients. An auspicious start to 2015 indeed

Homemade pancakes, movie, and lots of laying on the couch. A really good day.

31: New Years Eve

December 31st. New York Eve. New York City.

It was cold outside this morning. Maybe the coldest it has been all month so far. For the first time, I wore my new winter coat to work and the new winter accessories I spent way too much time picking out at Nordstrom Rack to match the coat, and I was unreasonably excited about this small detail. It's the little things, right?

We say that all the time. It's the little things. We don't even really think all that hard about what it means. But 2014 made me really see just how important those little things are. This was a hard year.  One day soon I will tell the story of this year, and then you'll know. And I understand now that it was the little things, those small pleasures, that kept me moving forward when the whole year seemed designed to bring me to my knees, time after time.

Like ordering pizza and eating it in front of the TV. Or binge watching season 1 of The West Wing for the 47th time. Or my favorite romance novel of all time with the cover practically worn off from years re-reading. Or red nail polish. Or sitting outside in the summer time. Or eating dinner with my sister at 10:30 at night at my kitchen table. Or the fluffy purple bathrobe that was a gift from my best friend who loved hers so much that she got one for me too. Or meeting David in the city after work to go home together. Or a really good piece of candy. Or french fries. Or the first sips of my morning coffee outside, just as the sun comes up. Or wearing my brand new winter coat for the very first time.

It's these things that keep me - and, I suspect, many of you too - grounded in the here and now when our brains want to take off on a flight of what-ifs and worst case scenarios, or when we just want to curl up into a ball of self-pity and defeat. These are the things that make life sweet, even when life is being a big, fat bitch.

This morning, as is my habit, I left my house through the back door. For a minute I just stood on the deck. The sky was clear and the sun was rising. I saw the lovely older couple who lives next door through their kitchen window, making coffee and smiling at each other. My neighbors on the other side dragged their paper recycling to the curb and I thought how irritated they would be when they realized that paper recycling isn't being picked up today because of New Years. I thought of David, still sleeping upstairs, and my parents starting their day in Pittsburgh, and my sisters in Ohio making breakfast and chasing kids. And I looked at the house rising behind me - the one with the back yard we love and the snow shovel that lives on the front porch all year round - that was so strange and new when we first moved in but that now holds more than two years worth of memories things and clutter and all the things that mean home. And I remembered something that my sister said to me when we were talking on the phone yesterday: "This is the only life that we get." And she is so right.

This is it. These things and these moments that make up our days are all we get, and sometimes they're hard and there's not much we can do about that except make ourselves see the good and enjoy the little things and be thankful for them because those little things are what help us to keep swimming when the seas are choppy and the current threatens to pull us under.

Like a minute of quiet grace on a cold winter morning as the sun is rising.

If this past year has taught me anything, it's that this life that I am living is a good one. That I am lucky in my family and my friends and the place I have made my home. And I've learned that the knocks that I take and the ones that are still to come are part of my story and that they make me a more interesting and maybe even a more thoughtful person.

So here's to taking the bad with the good, to holding the people we love close to us, and to making the most of this one and only life.

Happy New Year.

New Years Day 2014

New Years Day dawned clear and cold. It was 10:30 by the time I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on running clothes. After a late night I was still pretty exhausted, and with visions of a warm blanket on the couch, vats of coffee and some kind of delicious breakfast, exercise was the very last thing I wanted to do.

But that didn't much matter.

Because certain traditions we keep, whether we feel like it or not. And a New Years Day run is one of my most sacred traditions. It is one I learned from my dad back in his long distance running days. He taught me to begin each year as I mean to go on. And I am a runner. So I start each and every year with a run. Not necessarily a long one, but just enough to breathe cold air as my muscles warm, to remind me of how much I love this solo sport.

And I love it most especially in the winter.

It was 27 degrees when I got in my car.

I could have run the streets of my neighborhood. It would have been easier, and wouldn't have required a car ride, but my Bronx River Pathway was calling me, pulling at me, so it was there that I went, and I was rewarded with this view, and this stunning winter sky:.

And even though I was tired, once I got going I felt great. My last mile was the fastest that I have ever run, so I think we're starting off the year exactly right. 

Happy (and tired) girl, post record-setting mile

When I got home the endorphins were still flowing, so I decided to hit the kitchen to bake a New Years Day treat. Behold, chocolate chip muffins, before and after. The recipe said it would yield twelve regular sized muffins, but sometimes you just need a giant muffin amiright? So I double filled the muffin tins, and well, happy 2014 to us.

Discerning eyes will count 5 here. I ate one before I remembered
to take the "after" picture. 

With my birthday tomorrow and a giant snowstorm on the way, I am loving this month already. 

Hope your New Years Day was equally delicious. Happy January!

2013: A Year Of Finding Happiness and Home. And Reading Books.

January 1, 2013. I was laying on the couch under a blanket, trying to warm up after a freezing cold New Year's Day run and reading over what I had posted the day before as my year end review. Looking over all the words, all the links to the posts filled with the words that told the story of my year, made me proud, and a touch overwhelmed. And, when I got to the sections for November and December, they made me a little sad.

Because even though the construction was done and the house was finally finished, sitting on that couch on New Year's Day, I still felt profoundly unsettled after our move to the suburbs. Adrift in a sea of change and uncertainty, not sure when I would again find myself on dry land. And I looked forward to a new year, relishing the idea that maybe, just maybe, I would begin to find some comfort and peace. That maybe it would finally start to feel like home. Like my life, instead of a life that I was viewing from the outside, wishing it could be different.

If 2012 - the second half at least - was a story of saying goodbye, of transition and nostalgia tinged with sadness, 2013 was the story of finding my place. Of building a new life in a new neighborhood. Of joining a community. Of meeting new people who became new friends. Of finding a running path I loved as much as I love Central Park. Of getting to happy. Of discovering that slowly, and without my even realizing it, what was once new becomes normal. 

2013 was the story of finding home.

And 2013 was the story of reading books. 

Because when I feel unmoored, books are where I turn. When I lose myself in the words of my favorite authors, all is right with the world. So when we moved into our new house, the very first thing I did, even while my kitchen was still a black hole and everything was covered with a layer of construction dust, was set up my bookshelves and start reading.

My Bookshelves: Romance Novel Central

And Everything Else

And when I had torn through 3 books in our very first week, I decided it might be fun to keep track of everything I read for an entire year, and to write about it. So I created a new bookshelf in my Goodreads account, and started filling it. 

And when I checked it this morning, my grand total was 132 books in 2013, including 72 by Nora Roberts, 13 by her alter-ego J.D. Robb, 3 Hunger Games, 3 Divergent, 2 by John Grisham, 2 by Dan Brown, 13 by Brad Thor and 13 by the late and great Vince Flynn. The other ten are a mixed bag that include Maine and Commencement by J. Courtney Sullivan, Early Decision by Lacy Crawford, The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer, The Husband's Secret by Liane Moriarty and a few from my law firm's book club that I hated but read anyway to avoid feeling stupid in the bi-monthly meetings.

It was a year of romance and mystery, of brand new and very old. Of re-reading my favorites, and giving the unfamiliar a chance. Of sinking contentedly into my favorite characters and the stories that I love, and relishing happy endings. It was a year of embracing the familiar while surrounded by the unfamiliar, and finding out that I am still me, no matter where I land.

365 days and 132 books later, I am happy, and I am home.

Thank you for taking this journey with me. It is an honor and a pleasure to write, and to be read.

Wishing you all and your families lots of love, happiness and success in 2014.

Pictures of New Years

I realized this morning that, aside from my run, I posted precious little about what I actually did on New Years. Here are my four favorite pictures that capture the holiday in all its fun and relaxing glory.

Upper West Side Dinner With Friends

Our Enormous Pile of Firewood

Home on the Living Room Couch in Time For the Ball Drop

New Years Day Pancakes

2012: A Year in Review

New Years Eve.

I have spent some time these past few days reading through my blog archives from the past eleven months, trying to find a way to sum up the past year. And I have spent some time reading other bloggers' end of year posts trying to find some inspiration. Some people were posting their favorite blog posts by month. Some were listing all the books they read, or the places they traveled, or their favorite songs. But none of those felt quite right to me, so I decided to do a little bit of everything. Because, well, I am a woman of many interests, and because for me, 2012 included a little bit of everything. And more.

In January I turned 29. My birthday was on a Wednesday, but I celebrated on Saturday night with dinner and my best friends. It felt a little weird to turn 29. Like I should be focused on the fact that this was the last birthday that would have a 2 in front of it, and that 30 was looming in the distance. But I wasn't focused on that. Instead I was focused on the people around me, and how lucky I was to be living this life with them, at any age. And in January I started training for my first half-marathon. I had been running for awhile, and it was time to kick it up. For four months Central Park became my second home, as I circled its loops four times a week and counted the days until the race.

In February I started this blog. It was February 10th. A Friday. It was raw and rainy outside, and I got an idea. An idea for something I wanted to say. I wanted to write about the books I love, and the people I love, and after I wrote my very first sentence of my very first post, the ideas just flowed. And over the past eleven months my blog has taken on a bit of a different flavor, but I am so proud of it, and will be forever grateful for that first spark of inspiration on an otherwise ordinary day.

In March D and I started talking about moving. About leaving our apartment in New York City and venturing out to parts unknown. About buying a house and another car and becoming suburbanites. We looked at our first couple of houses, and thought how it would probably take months and months to find the right one for us. I fumed over the rhetoric about abortion and contraception coming from the federal and state governments, and took to my blog to express my outrage. And in March we boarded a plane late on a Saturday night and flew to Israel for a 10 day vacation on the beaches of Tel Aviv. And in a Tel Aviv mall I discovered that Israeli women love romance novels too, and my heart sang.

In April I spent the last days of Passover in Pittsburgh surrounded by family. I battled a running injury I thought might keep me out of the half marathon that was a mere four weeks away, and we made our first offer on a house we loved, but walked away after a week-long bidding war. And in April I read Nora Roberts' new book The Witness, fell instantly in love with the premier of Shonda Rhimes' new show Scandal, and bid farewell to One Tree Hill, a show that I had been watching since its premier my junior year in high school.

In May I went back to Pittsburgh to run the race. It was an unseasonably hot day that felt more like the end of July than the beginning of May. For three hours I joined thousands of other people to run the streets of the city I love. And there were some dicey miles, but I finished strong. It was my biggest accomplishment to date. And in May I read Nora Roberts' The Last Boyfriend, the incredible book Quiet by Susan Cain, and the less than incredible Fifty Shades of Gray trilogy.

In June we went to see the house that would ultimately be ours. The first time we saw it I couldn't see the potential, but D did, and twenty-four hours of negotiations later, the contracts were being drawn up, and plans were being made, and I started thinking about what it would feel like to live somewhere that wasn't Manhattan. I discovered Bunheads, a new TV show by the creator of Gilmore Girls, one of my favorite shows of all time, and spent some happy Monday nights with the quirky characters of Paradise, CA. And I stayed up until 4am one night just to finish Gillian Flynn's incomparable thriller Gone Girl.

In July we flew to Cleveland for the weekend to visit my sister and brother-in-law and to smother my little niece with love and presents, and I started the torturous process of applying for a mortgage. I watched in horror with the rest of the nation as news broke of a gunman inside a movie theater in Colorado, and I watched with excitement and glee as the Queen of England declared the Games of the 30th Olympiad open. I watched hours and hours of Olympics, and managed to make some time for the miniseries Political Animals, and the delicious debauchery of Bachelor Pad.

In August I suffered from a post-Olympics hangover and entered my very first blogging competition. I was approved for a mortgage. I watched the Republican National Convention and struggled with how I, a pro-choice, pro-marriage equality Republican, could fit into this modern incarnation of the Party. And in August we found out there was an open permit on our house and that our closing would be delayed, and traded a million e-mails with our lawyer and our mortgage company trying to get it sorted out.

In September we took a late night drive to the Jersey Shore to celebrate Labor Day Weekend and I spent a day looking back eleven years. We celebrated the Jewish holidays, and I wrote my first piece of fiction. We closed on our new house, and I started writing about the nostalgia I felt for leaving the home I had known for more than seven years. The twenty-one TV shows that I watch on a regular basis came back from their summer hiatuses, and my DVR was once again filled to capacity.

In October we celebrated our two year wedding anniversary with dinner and dessert on our living room couch. I started counting down to my last run in Central Park, and started thinking about packing boxes, and whether our cable would be hooked up in time so I didn't miss any of my shows. I wrote a post I love about the female vote, and I took my last Central Park run (or so I thought). And in October our move to the new house was delayed by three days as New York City was devastated by Hurricane Sandy and her aftermath.

In November I took my actual last run in Central Park, we moved into our new house and commenced six weeks without a kitchen as our construction was finished, and I entered a challenge to blog every day of the month. The third book in Nora Roberts' Boonsboro Inn trilogy was released, and it saved my sanity during our first real weekend in our house. D built our kitchen cabinets, I started learning the streets of our new neighborhood, and I saw camels on 51st Street on my way to work. I spent Thanksgiving with my family in Pittsburgh, and I celebrated with my best friend when she got engaged. I finally unpacked my romance novel collection, and spent some serious quality time on my new couch in front of the TV.

In December I got my first blogging award, and saw those camels again. The construction on our house finally came to an end, and I started cooking in my brand new kitchen. My heart broke for the Sandy Hook community as they struggled to make sense out of a tragedy, and I grieved alongside one of the families as they laid their little boy to rest. I finally got my running mojo back, and spent a cozy night in our new home in front of the fireplace.

What a year indeed.

Happy New Year.

Here's to 2013.