Nesting

For a long time, I've felt stuck between two worlds.  My love for the friends in Portland pull on my heart all the time, but the life I have established in Seattle has become equally hard to part from.  At one point, I'd likened Seattle to Jacob (well you know, he IS the fun, literally hot, one...), and for the most part the lifestyle I lead here reinforces that.  And when I was visiting with a friend, I mentioned that I hadn't hung any pictures up in my new (at-the-time) condo - she mentioned that maybe I was subconsciously not wanting to be in Seattle.

After returning from Rotterdam, I admit, I felt pretty lost.  I didn't quite feel like I was "home" and it took a bit to feel like I was established with a life here again.  Moving to Portland seemed closer than it had been in awhile.  But this summer, after making the choice to stay home for the weekend, I finally decided it was time.  It was time to hang up my pictures.  I mean seriously, I'd owned my condo for 2 years, and all they were doing was collecting dust and taking up precious space under my bed (I mean, where else is the monster supposed to live?  And by monster, I mean the extra clothes :) ).



So after a little soul-pinterest searching, and a few arrangement attempts, I figured out how to lay out my collection (I don't know what got into me, but a long time ago, I fell in love with the "Kissing the War Goodbye" photo...and rapidly collected multiple kissing black and white photos... creepy or hopeful, they make me happy).

Layout idea
How to hang a wall collage

Now, I don't know about you, but I find hanging pictures alone to be...a bit challenging.  I mean, something can look perfectly great close up, but look...ummm...terrible when you stand back...and by then, you've already got holes in your walls.  So you know, I probably looked a bit like a spaz standing on my couch, attempting to hammer in pin nails (praying I DIDN'T hit a stud or at least one of those metal ones, I just don't have the power to put those in! #twss), and then jumping back to check every 5 seconds that it was ACTUALLY level and ACTUALLY the right distance apart.

And I'd seen examples of people using paper to map out their plan, rulers to measure where to put nails etc.  Well, I don't keep spare butcher paper around, so I figured the ginormous roll of Costco wrapping paper (that I've had for about 5 years) would do just fine.


After finding a layout that was most similar to the pictures I had on hand, I set to work drawing and measuring.  After the first couple of photos, I realized no matter what I laid out, it was measuring about an inch lower than expected... hmm well, I adjusted and liked seeing the work slowly come together.

And I have to say that I was pretty happy with the finished product, and had fun even incorporating black and white photos of people I love to complement the whole wall.  I can't say they are perfectly straight or measured, and I've had to 'adjust' some of the small frames, but that really doesn't matter.  Seeing them behind my couch every day makes me smile, and if you can't feel happy and cozy where you live, where else can you expect to?

It took ~2 years, but I finally made my house more of a home.  I put permanent marks in my walls that I may be annoyed by one day, but for the time being I'll enjoy the fruits of my labor and be glad that I didn't have to make multiple holes for each one ;-).  So I guess the moral of the story is...live fully where you're at, because if you're always waiting to get to the next place, you'll never feel fully settled.

The opposite wall

Above my bed, though now there are a few more Vegas trip photos :)

We have arrived in the future...

It's crazy to think that in 1985, movies predicted that in 2015 we would have hover boards.  Yet, I suppose we have come a long ways since what 1985 was about - I mean if I said I was going to blog back then you may have thought I was trudging through a bog? (you can laugh now)

As you can predict, like I do every year, I will be making resolutions in this January 1, 2015 blog post.  But first, a quick look back to last year, and the apparently 'unusual' thing I did with my resolutions.  If you remember correctly, rather than making one resolution I would likely only keep for a month (if I was lucky), I was going to make 12 (The year I turned 32) - everything from spending less, finishing books, working out, trying new things or doing more of old things.  My favorite thing was actually something I didn't put on the list!  Instead of going cross country skiing, I tried rock climbing (and loved! it).

Last year was a year to focus on improving/analyzing me.  And it was interesting how multiple mediums reaffirmed what I was going through (from books to therapy to conversations with friends and even some movies).  I can look back now and clearly see the direction of last year was to be more okay with me, to know myself a little better, and to be more gentle with me - even though it was a year I cried more than I have in a long long time.  Growing pains much? (though, I gotta say, for all the hard times there was a LOT of good in 2014!)

Let's just say, I'm hopeful and excited for the 'clean slate' that the new year brings.  And found that my 12 months of resolutions were a great thing for me (and it sounds as though I may have inspired a few people to try it themselves? I'm excited to hear what they pick!).  It was fun for me, having something new to look forward to, having people ask about which one I was on that month or how it was going, and I allowed myself to fail.  There wasn't one month that I hit the mark 100%, I'd say I completed around 50% of each.  I found that the mix between improvement and fun things was appropriate, though I would look forward to the next month, but didn't allow myself to "start early".

The things I would like to focus on this year - fit back into a certain little black dress, purge the stuff, find more ways to incorporate spirituality into my life, spend less, and be less busy.  And knowing how this last year went (I was super looking forward to the dance month...and only went 1 time when it came to it!!), I think this year I will put 12 resolutions in a 'hat', and pick one at the start of each month.  So off the cuff, without much ado here is the plan for the year!

1. Meditate 3 nights a week before bed
2. Scrapbook my year in Europe - 1 page and favorite memory from each place AND find a way to display concert and football tickets
3. Do something active outdoors every weekend
4. Don't plan anything (additional) for the month
5. Start each work day with 5 minutes of prayer
6. Run an 8k (I know it sounds wimpy, but the most I've done now is 5ks...baby steps)
7. Cook completely through 1 cookbook - get rid of any where there isn't 7 things I would like to make
8. Don't watch TV during the week days
9. Check out Martha Stewart's guide to housekeeping from the library - and clean at least 3 things that I've not cleaned in my house
10. Get rid of non-sentimental things not used in the last year
11. Don't buy any entertainment items (books, music, movies, concert tickets, plane tickets, etc)
12. Pick 1 class from the gym - go 2x every week

Now, what are you resolving to do in the Back to the Future year you have arrived in?

Failed MRS

If any of you know me, you know that I joke that I went to college for my MRS degree.  And I remember distinctly my senior year being told by some jerk in my accounting class, that "I guess you failed that one!"  Almost 10 years later, and I still have not accomplished that 'feat' and those words still sting.

Within the last 36-hours, I have had 3 people tell me that I am crazy (and not in a joking manner, but more towards the 'who I am' frame of reference), torn a pair of jeans in an uncomfortable and embarrassing way, and been told that I would be a horrible mother (was going to make the baby I was holding cry and that I looked awkward - from multiple people in front of a larger group of peers).  This Halloween has certainly been more of a trick than a treat.  I feel like I got salt poured, rubbed, scrubbed, and sanded into this gaping wound.  Because if you also know me, you would know that all I have ever wanted to be was a mother.  And like the rest of you, I just want someone to love and care for me.  To need me and for me to need them.  To not be alone, because man just cannot live...alone.

It never ceases to amaze me how mean people can be, and how self-absorbed and rude that comes across when they make assumptions about another person.  At what point has it been okay to wound someone, and then back-peddle saying 'we were only joking'.  I've been told that I should show people how I am hurt, to let them see the side of me that I keep hidden in an attempt to look/act/be what society says is 'normal'.  In doing so, I guess I become fake and then people don't know what could hurt, because I don't show that.

I live every day with this intense pressure that I am alone.  The fear that I won't be a good mother or ever get to be a mother.  That this is what my life will continue to be, a full one - but not a completely fulfilling one.  That there will always be that something I'm lacking and that bond with a person I won't have.  I just can't believe that this is my life, and that I must have made some wrong choice in my 'choose your own adventure' story - one that led far away from what I hoped for.  And honestly, that's probably what hurt the most is someone putting me in a box and attacking that hope.

This was a little raw, and a lot all over the place.  But this is me, this is what scares me more than anything else.  And I think better through written word.  So the next time you have an urge to make some 'funny' comment, think about the assumptions you are making about that person first.  And I'll do the same, plus allow myself to be hurt and let you know, because if I don't, I'm just keeping up the facade that reinforces your incorrect assumptions about who I am and what I want from life.

Oh, where is my Hairbrush?

While Milan was almost a full 3 months ago, the impression of it still sticks with me and it quickly has shot up to one of my favorite cities in Europe.  I would say it has all the fashion of Paris, with the hospitality of the Italians.  Perfecto.  Needless to say, I felt my time (working) in Milan was fantastic.

After almost 24hrs of travel, I was awake enough to navigate the train and the metro to make it to my home for the week.  And I did what I always do when I get in - take a nap. :) But by 3, I was on the metro headed to the center.  While on the train, we were 'serenaded' by a guy with a speaker and a microphone...putting me in the right mood to talk with a cute guy who came up to talk to me when we got to the Duomo.  I ended up walking the city with him and a couple of his friends (they were Romanians, living in Italy).  He was a bit of a spaz, but harmless.

We walked all around the center, twirled around 3 times with our heels on the bulls balls in the shopping center (see below), meandered through the castle (me in front of said castle below), looked for gelato (and finally found some), and generally had a pleasant time, but I was getting tired of them and hungry for real food.

Which led me to what I hoped was food, but instead was just a bar, so I had an aperitif (Straf Bar) and then headed for a pizza.  I ended up at that bar at least 2 more times before I left.  It was cozy, and appeared to be a place where locals would go to hang out.  And I can say that I am a big fan of spritz's.

The rest of my food and drink week was amazing, but rather than bog this down, I'll post that separately (Restauranting - Milano).  But for a 'taste'... here's a sample of what I had:

We found the old city with the last remaining canals (and I of course got eaten alive by mosquitos and ended up with cankles...) and I got to have dinner with my friend, Jon, from Seattle who just happened to be popping through during the same week.  Also, in our search for a spot to watch the British football match (we were unsuccessful, as even the British pub was only showing the Italy game), we happened into a quaint little place that was packed people watching the Italians play, we were the odd men out, but the owner showed us some great hospitality in getting food and drink while the game was on.

Church with the Last Supper

What the city used to look like

The streets of Milan

I ended up staying in Milan for the weekend, and while I wasn't able to get tickets to see the Last Supper, I did walk through the adjacent church, all around the square (was hoping to see the Duomo with a friend, but that never happened and as such, I never did make it in the big church), into the Modern Art museum, around the castle to relax and write postcards, shopped a little, ate some more, and generally just had a relaxing 2 days in the city.  My favorite church was a recommendation from my friend Jon - it's a cool optical illusion to be sure!

One of my favorite experiences was sitting down at a cafe for dinner (now sometimes I have problems picking where to eat, I over-think it, find a place on Yelp or TripAdvisor that looks good, but when I walk past it, I am not interested or don't realize I've walked past and then I get all awkward about wanting to turn around and look like I'm lost).  But after walking for quite a bit, and getting away from the largely touristy areas, I found a great wine and food bar.  Here I sat, read, and had a chef's choice 3-course meal.  Near the end of the meal, a girl who was sitting nearby struck up a conversation and invited me to join them for drinks.  Who am I to turn down making friends?  It was a fun evening with a makeup artist, an architect, and a socialite who is known for throwing fantastic parties.  While I was invited to go, and the girl added herself as a friend on Facebook, she never did accept her own request.  Alas, it was fun to hear about anyway.

The city of Como

After working in the city, I headed to the lake...of course hoping to see the famed George Clooney, but instead maybe only seeing a glimpse of where he lives.  Como was great, albeit a little stormy at the time.  It was an easily navigable town, but it is fairly quiet and the center is deserted early on.  I had 2 days in town, and spent one day wandering (in the pouring rain, refusing to buy an umbrella from the street peddlers) and popping into little places for coffee or wine.  I took the streetcar up the hill and the ferry to Bellagio (not to be confused with the Vegas monstrosity, or the sister hotel of the "Pellagio", aka the Palazzo... that joke was for any of my Vegas girls who read my blog...sometimes I make up new words!).

I popped onto the the slow ferry, so it took 2 1/2 (very hungry) hours to get to the city.  And of course once there, I popped into the first place I saw....haha, no of course not.  I wandered and checked Yelp, and wandered a bit more.  I did find a semi-hidden little wine bar where I had a wonderful eggplant cheesy lasagna (pictured above in the food preview).  It was worth the wait, but I wouldn't go until 2pm before I eat again - not advisable.

I asked my waiter for advice on a swimming spot and he recommended the tip of the town.  Off I head in search of a place to bathe...only to find a restaurant and a boat mooring spot.  I of course go into awkward mode and decide I guess I'll have a glass of wine.  After serving me wine, I asked the waiter where a place to go in the water was.  He says, oh I'm headed to swim after I leave here.  I can show you.  Me, thinking, this was part of his plan to meet up with friends agrees.  It must be close by, right?

The ferry ride and my scooter companion in Bellagio

He covers the wine and leads me to...his scooter???  Alright, I didn't realize this was part of the plan, but ok, sure, why not?  He FLIES through the little town at cringe worthy rates.  Slowing barely for people to jump out of the way, the policeman makes the "slow down" gesture at him, and I am holding on for dear life, hoping my bare skin won't be rubbed clean off by a crash.  We arrive...at a bar?  And he goes off to change (so yeah, I guess he wasn't originally planning on swimming after work), and tells me to get a drink at the bar.  I do, and wait.  He returns swim-trunks clad, and off we go again... to the other end of the town...

You might be thinking, seriously Natalie, you're an idiot!  Well, I may be, but I'm writing this so you know I'm alive, and it was such a fun, spontaneous afternoon.  And I did, in fact get to go swimming in the lake (it was F'ING COLD), laid out on the floating dock, jumped in again and again, and laughed with delight that this was where I was in my life.  We shared a couple spritz's, some vodka and lemon soda's, and he only had a couple hours before work, so I was able to get back on the ferry and head "home" to Como, Milan, and eventually Seattle.

I learned from this trip that when traveling alone, I prefer to be in big cities, as opposed to little villages (which are truly made for couples), and oh yeah, and I think I forgot to mention, I left my hairbrush at home and I was stuck with a comb for 2 weeks...  Here's to living life 'on the edge'!!

Piloting...

It's finally starting to, noticeably, happen. My body is aging. I saw it when I was looking in the mirror this week. My under boob could hold a pen. You know, I'd known it was coming. Probably six months ago I could do the arms up (22), arms down (32) and not much was changing. Slowly though, it was. And not only can I now hold writing instruments in unuseful places, I've got the upsidedown "v" happening between my boobs. Shit. I'm old.  I couldn't find an available Cougartown clip, but the opening Pilot scene shows Jules analyzing her aging (albeit HOT self).

I have a feeling that things will continue to get "worse". I mean, I wore nylons this week. I HATE nylons. But my legs are turning wintery and not shaving well. And you know, I expected this, knew it was going to happen. But hoped that at this point I would have locked down a man, so that he knew what "once was" and could live through this aging process with me. Instead, I'm experiencing it alone, and am feeling an even more intense pressure to find a man - because we all know they are much more visually driven and no matter what they say, they care about that shit. 

So here I sit, with nylons helping to keep the fat in, hide the age spots, and keep the legs faux-svelte, grateful that the grey hairs haven't shown up, but hoping that things retain at least a little of their elasticity, or I guess I'll be calling on my plastic surgeon friend a little earlier than I intended...

This blog is dedicated to a friend who told me he appreciated my honesty;-).