When The Weather Gets Cold...

Sometimes you just have to hunker down inside...

College Friends. Forever Friends.

I remember it clearly.

First night of college. Common room. 40 girls sitting around, making small talk, and trying to pretend like everything about the night wasn't weird, awkward, and different. I sat towards the back of the room, observing the mayhem, and trying to figure out where my place would be among these strangers.

It happened practically without me even realizing it. Some of the girls sitting in that room, and some who had been sitting in other common rooms on other floors on that very same night, became my friends. And, over time, they became my family. The women who know my stories and who know me all the way through in a way that few people do.

Last Saturday night I drove into Manhattan to celebrate my thirty-first birthday with those women, the twelfth birthday of mine that we have all celebrated together. And as I sat around the table in a darkened restaurant all I could think about was how lucky I am to have them, and how grateful I am for the miraculous twist of fate that brought us together.

Today I am guest posting on The HerStories Blog, talking about college friends, forever friends, and the path that we all walk together. Head on over there and read my story, and check out some of the other great pieces on their website about female friendship in all its forms.

When Weather Isn't Just Weather

I was sitting at my desk at work when the snow started to fall.

I'm usually a big fan of winter in general, and snow specifically, but when I saw those first flakes drift over midtown Manhattan I dropped my head in my hand and muttered, "what else?"

I had never really been one of those people who focused on the weather. I had preferences, to be sure, but I never complained much when the weather was crappy. When it rained I opened my umbrella, when it snowed I pulled on my boots, and I mostly took it all in stride.

But overnight, or, more accurately, over the course of nine days, I had become an entirely different person because of a hurricane and because of a house.

I had recently become a homeowner but I hadn't moved in yet. So I spent Hurricane Sandy away from my house and passed the time worrying and wondering. I worried about my new car in the driveway and wondered what would happen when the debris started flying. I worried that our basement was flooded and that our power was out. I worried that our roof was leaking or that a tree had fallen. I worried that after the storm our house would just be a pile of rubble, and then I hated myself a little for thinking that maybe if that happened we could just stay in Manhattan forever.

All of a sudden I felt vulnerable and exposed. The night of the storm it occurred to me that I didn't have a landlord to call if my power went out or something even more terrible happened. Weather was no longer just weather. Instead, it was an insidious beast sent from above to mess up my house and empty my bank account.

So when the snow started to fall a mere eight days after Sandy and only four days after we moved into the house I just piled new anxiety on top of old until I was a quivering mess.

By the time I got home that night half a foot had fallen. The roads were hideous and I found myself dreaming of underground subways and sidewalks that were someone else's responsibility to shovel.

When I pulled into my driveway I saw David in the garage, building our kitchen cabinets and practically oblivious to the fact that the apocalypse had clearly arrived. I was desperately jealous of him and his homeowner confidence when I was approximately five minutes away from staking a "for sale" sign in the front yard and fleeing back to the world of landlords and apartment living.

I didn't really want to go into the house alone, but I was freezing, so I reluctantly left David to his tools and trudged up the unshoveled driveway, one eye warily on the roof, and one on the tree with the branches bending under the weight of the snow, leaning precariously close to the power lines attached to my house.

And I wondered if weather would ever just be weather again.

After a huge snowstorm and days of subzero temps, I can honestly
say that a little more than a year later, weather is just weather once again.
And I love a good snowstorm, even if it might drop a tree straight onto my house

One Weekend: A Blizzard, A Birthday And A Snow Day

Sometimes the universe conspires to bring you exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.

This past weekend was proof of that.

All day on New Years Day I watched news of a big snowstorm that was headed for the Northeast and supposed to hit sometime between Thursday and Friday morning. No one was quite sure yet how much snow we would get; forecasters were predicting anywhere from nothing to over a foot. But by the time I went to sleep on Wednesday night, it was clear that we would be on the high end of that prediction. 

Since moving to the suburbs where I rely on a car to get around and park that car in a driveway, getting around in the snow is a little trickier than it was when I was living in the city. And I knew that if we got a foot of snow I wouldn't be able to move the car, the trains would be running on a weird schedule, if at all, and I would probably have to stay home on Friday instead of making the trek to Manhattan for work.

And I was kind of hoping that would happen. Because I love snow days as much as I did when I was ten years old and school closed down, and also because Friday was my birthday. And a birthday snow day would be the best present of all.

It was 7:00 Thursday night when the snow started to fall. And it fell, without stopping, for thirteen hours straight. And I was the person running around outside in boots and a sweatshirt capturing the scene as the snow piled up in my neighborhood.

8:00 pm: The Snow Begins

8:00 pm

8:00 pm

8:00 pm

Good thing we turned totally suburban and got ourselves a snow blower
before the storm hit

11:45 pm: Wind Kicks Up, Snow Still Falls

11:45 pm

11:45 pm

I set my alarm for 6:00 Friday morning, because if it turned out that the snow hadn't been as bad as they forecasted, and it turned out that I had to go into work, I figured I would need some time to clear off my car and get myself to the train station.

But that wasn't at all necessary. Because when I opened my front and back doors, this is what I found:

6:15am: A Foot Of Snow, It's Still Falling, And I'm Outside
Documenting It In My Pajamas

6:15am: A Sea Of White. Not a Plow In Sight. I'm As Excited As
I Was When I was 10 And School Was Cancelled

We were snowed in. And all of a sudden, I was a little kid again.

While I waited for David to wake up I did a little work, made snow day chicken soup, and answered my phone as birthday calls came in from all over the place.

Chicken Soup On The Stove For A Snowy Birthday

And when David finally woke up, we went outside to play.

The Best Homeowner In The World: Super Excited To Use
His New Toy

And To Toss Me Into The Snow As A Birthday Present

Snowy Selfie

 It was the best birthday ever.

Birthday Flowers From Great Friends

A little more snow clearing on Saturday night, and then we were off to the city for a birthday dinner and dessert at some of my favorite places.

Saturday Night: Handling The Rest Of The Driveway
Note The Glowing Red Light Of His Heated Jacket

Manhattan Birthday Dinner

And Dessert

My Nearest And Dearest

Cutest Dessert Restaurant Ever

College Girls

The snow stuck around all weekend, and I spent Sunday morning running through it as freezing rain fell from the sky.

Sunday Morning: A Snow Covered Running Path

Post Sunday Run: Rain and Sleet Edition

A blizzard, a birthday and a snow day.

A great, great weekend.

This Is Thirty-One

Today is my birthday. I am thirty-one.

A few months ago I wrote a post all about what it felt like to be thirty. And the truth is, reading that post back now, I realize that thirty didn't feel all that much different than twenty-nine. But for some reason, thirty-one is different. It feels significant in a way that thirty did not. Thirty gets a lot of fanfare, and thirty-one does not, but for me, this birthday is big. 

This is thirty-one.

Thirty-one is getting a blizzard and a foot of snow for my birthday, and loving every minute of it. It is drinking coffee on my couch while I watch the last flakes fall and being thrilled that I get both sun and snow on this day. It is being as excited for a snow day as I was when I was ten years old, and it is waiting for the streets to get cleared so I can head out for a snowy birthday run.

Thirty-one is celebrating my birthday with only my nearest and dearest. Thirty-one doesn't need a lot of fanfare. It just wants dinner in Manhattan, an amazing dessert, a fun drink or two, and my very best friends all sitting around the same table. It is realizing for what feels like the millionth time that these people I call friends are really my family, and that this path I walk would be impassable without them. 

Thirty-one is becoming a published author for the very first time. It is a feeling of incredible pride, having my essay in a book alongside those of writers and bloggers that I have admired for years. It is the honor of knowing that the hardest and saddest blog post I have ever written turned out to be one that is utterly relatable. It is learning that there will always be people who are critical of what I write, but understanding that this blog of mine is a place where I am safe to explore my most complicated thoughts and feelings and to be vulnerable. It is knowing that as long as I am being real and sensitive and truthful, it matters less and less what others think of me.

Thirty-one is being handed the toughest challenge of my adult life and making the decision to put my head down and forge straight ahead, rather than dwell on the "what-ifs" and the uncertainty of it all. It is knowing that I am doing the very best that I can, and that at some point you just have to let go and leap and trust that there will be a soft landing down there somewhere. Thirty-one is learning, over and over again, that sometimes the biggest choices are out of our hands and learning to be ok with that.

Thirty-one is missing my sisters every day now that they both live far away. It is having an amazing week with them at my house in New York and being confident that, despite the distance, we are just as close as we always have been. It is knowing with absolute certainty that they understand me better than anyone in the world, and that time with them is the cure for whatever ails me.

Thirty-one is walking the delicate line between appreciating what I have now and anticipating all that is still to come. It is trying hard to be present in these days and these moments, knowing that change is inevitable as time marches on.

Thirty-one is a home I love and a husband I love. It is friends and family and a life of meaning and purpose. It is struggle, but also happiness. It is reading and running, and doing the things that make me feel good. It is relishing the fact that life can still surprise in the most wonderful of ways.

This is thirty-one.

Today, I am thirty-one.

The Very Best Birthday Present

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!