introducing...the potato.

about, oh, maybe a year ago i had this revelation: a potato is a vegetable! huzzah!

so when i began to introduce more fruits and vegetables into my diet the potato was this miracle.

to cook i clean the potato, poke holes all over (with a fork), coat in a tiny bit of butter and salt, and place in the oven at 450 degrees for an hour.

from there that potato becomes the proverbial oyster...you can put anything in it! i always go with greek yogurt (which in this context tastes like sour cream), kerrygold cheddar, and scallions.

when i'm looking to mix things up i'll add in refried beans, mushrooms, or avocado.

it's cheap, simple, and packed full of protein.

if we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.

ivan turgenev

the first step

when i first met with the head of the eating and weight disorders program at mount sinai i knew immediately he was the doctor for me. he got it. he understood.

after two years of asking for help in overcoming an eating disorder only to be told i didn't have one, i had finally met someone with the information that would give me my life back. he talked science to me. and for a girl who'd never before liked science, it was suddenly the language of love--the salve for my soul.

obviously i had some pretty big issues at play and not everyone needs such a specialized doctor. but the things tom has imparted to me are basic and universal. they are bits of information not often talked about--things that everyone can benefit from.

from that very first day tom made it clear that, in terms of eating, we were gonna work very hard to eliminate any form of dieting or restrictions. that would in time eliminate binges. and eventually i would have the body of giselle bunchen. (oh wait, scratch that last one {figured i'd attempt to bring a little humor to the table, even if it's poorly-constructed}).

and so that is exactly what we did. i stopped counting points. i stopped guesstimating calories. i re-introduced all foods into my diet.

and there have been days, weeks where i think, oh if i limit just for this little bit of time--if i only consume this many calories--it'll be a jump-start for me. no harm done. 

those times of limit have never, ever led to any good.

i used to say that i'd know i was better when i got to the body i would've had had i never developed an eating disorder. and tom would chuckle and nod and say, there's no way for you to know what that body would be. that's an impossibility. and he was right, of course he was right, as always.

but i do feel i'm finally living in a body that is my own. a body sans all the extra pounds that binge upon binge piled on. and without dieting, without counting calories, without any of that it has taken me just about two-and-a-half years to get here.

yeah, i know, that's quite a bit of time. a lot of time, actually. well...but not really. not if you're thinking in terms of a whole life. better two-and-a-half-years than twenty of yo-yo dieting and unhappiness.

it takes time. there is no quick fix. health is an investment of time and money and hard work.

be patient. in the end, that extra time pays off in dividends.

a new tab.

when i started this wee of a blog i was fearless.

if i wanted to post something, i'd post it. bam. done.

and maybe it's because i was pretty clueless for the most part.

but it was a blissful oblivion.

now i worry what others will think: is it interesting enough? will they like it? does it fit with the overall thrust of the blog (i know, i know, what overall thrust?). what judgement will this-a-way come? what fuel am i providing for ex-boyfriends the world over?

a few weeks ago my friend victoria suggested i share here what i'm doing to get healthy. some of my little tricks and suggestions.

and i was.    hesitant.

because i'm certainly not an authority.

and certainly other people have found more success than i. their paths have been smoother, shorter, done with more grace.

but then i was standing around with a few girls just the other week when one declared she absolutely must lose weight and so today would be the day she'd begin weight watchers again.  and i must've cringed and said that was a terrible idea (or something else totally inappropriate for the situation {i don't know this person very well}) and realizing my mistake i quickly closed my mouth and moved on to other things. but she asked what i meant, said she wanted to lose weight the healthful way. and then a third girl overhearing the conversation jumped in saying that, weight watchers is healthy and it works. and i pulled a move of undeniable stealth extracting myself by nodding and excusing myself to the bathroom or some other such refuge.

because what i could have said? what i wanted to say was that just because something works doesn't mean it's healthy. and if it really worked would our nation be fighting this obesity epidemic? and after only three months of a successful weight-watchers stint (nineteen pounds lost) i developed a raging case of bulimia that nearly destroyed me. yup, three months of weight watchers and it's taken me more than five years to recover.

this diet thing. it is so ingrained in our culture. and no one has the information to combat it.

i stopped writing--for the most part--about my nasty, little eating disorder (ned) because i didn't want it to define me. i didn't want to write about the descent when i was doing everything i could to climb out of the crater in which i'd landed. and so i took the "ned" tab down from my sidebar.

and i'm not going to. to write about the descent, that is.

but i am going to give vic's suggestion a whirl. i'm going to write about climbing out of that crater. about getting better. and stronger. about the bits and pieces that have helped me. the elimination of fake sugar from my diet (and why). and the healthy, real foods that keep me moving. about how i eat what i want, when i want it: cupcakes and ice cream included.

i am not perfect. and neither is my body. i have stretch marks. all over. and thighs that rub together. but i love my body. yes, you heard me correctly. completely and compassionately, i love my body. i will never again try to lose weight. i just won't do it. i will try to eat well, to nourish my body and strengthen my heart. and i imagine those things will peel off the pounds i no longer want or need.

but it's so not about the pounds. ya know?

for the next week i'm gonna have this little blogspot-lover focus on health, so that when it's all said and done we'll have the start of a new tab for my sidebar. a tab to replace the one that "ned" once claimed.


(still working on names though...seems like all the good ones like "living well" or some such have been claimed.

suggestions?)

i spent my sunday morning at a two year old's birthday party.

and i'm not gonna lie. sometimes there's nothing better than that. 

remember my cookie monster cupcakes?

no?!

okay, okay. this should remind you.

well, this morning i tackled elmo. and i have to tell you. i do declare: i am improving!

and a little improvement...that's all one can really ask (or even hope for) right?

later she remembered all the hours of the afternoon as happy--one of those uneventful times that seem at the moment only a link between past and future pleasure, but turn out to have been the pleasure itself.

F. Scott Fitzgerald (Tender is the Night)

something has happened...

i've been watching damages. the fx show with glenn close and rose byrne. you know it? you should. it's good. it's so good for so many reasons. particularly the first season. the writing, the editing, the colors, the way in which it unravels.

and somewhere amongst its twists and turns and unraveling i became startlingly taken with...wait for it...rose byrne's hair. oh, that hair! the highlights, the ombre effect that's become so popular this season. and suddenly i too, i too want highlights! never before have i felt the need to color my hair. well, okay there was that one time at the end of my fourth year that i did the bottle red and that was disastrous on every possible level, but i don't think my motives were as pure then. and good hair is all about pure motives, right?

the thing is, this need (because that's what it is) couldn't have come at a worst possible time. i don't have time for it. nor money. and yet, it's begun to consume me... suddenly hair everywhere is taunting me. and i like my color. i do, i really do. it's just that. well, that...a little lift to it, a few added dimensions...a little ombre, if you will, seems right up my alley.

image.

clarity

there's this thing that happens when exhaustion takes hold, and i mean really takes hold. when you're so busy that the mind can't keep up--can't wrap itself around all that needs to be done.

things streamline. the mind figures it out what it needs to in any given moment. priorities shift. life drops in.

a job is a job is a job. it pays the bills. accept that. move on.

and insecurities and unnecessary quirks fall away. because you don't have time for them, or rather you don't have the energy to keep up with things that aren't authentically you. but it took becoming this busy, this you-want-to-burrow-in-bed-all-day-following-fourteen-consecutive-hours-of-jobs-that-pay-the-bills, for you to really get it--for you to drop into yourself all the more.

and you like the clarity that comes when the mind doesn't have the energy to over-think to the point of muddle.

so you soldier on. because this is all experience.

a reminder.

some stories don't
have a clear beginning,
middle, and end. life
is about not knowing,
having to change,
taking the moment and 
making the best of it,
without knowing what's 
going to happen next.
delicious ambiguity...






gilda radner

delicious ambiguity. mmm. perfection.

last week i got home at two in 

the morning knowing i had to be back

 at work at 8 am. 

and it was this quote messaged  

to me by camilla 

that kept me going.

physique 57: a two week update for you.

there have been two times in the last few weeks when i have forgotten to eat.

and i never forget to eat. not ever.

because i really like food. like, a lot.

but twice i've had the thought to grab breakfast. and then i'm out the door and i realize there's nothing in my stomach but i don't really have time to stop and think about it so i just keep going.

and this is how i know that i'm busy. i mean. really, really busy.

my schedule is color-coded for the first time in my life.

i have a color for babysitting. and a color for my new job. at another restaurant. which i have so many feelings about. because i'm starting to feel like it's time to jump-start my life. and so while i'm thankful for the work and the money and the surprisingly kind people, it's another restaurant. another restaurant. and hostess, babysitter, these are not careers i want to pursue. i want to be more. but...well...this is another tale fore another day. i digress. the point is i have a color for each of my many jobs and i have a color for exercise.

i'm in the middle of the monthly unlimited at physique 57. and i'm trying to get to class four to five times a week. and i don't exactly live close to either studio so it's always an event. just to get there it's an event. then there's the issue of finding a class that works around my many jobs.

this is all to say that right now my life feels a bit like a jig-saw puzzle. how can i make it all fit?

and so it would be easy to cut down on the exercise.

but i can't. i won't. nope. i love it.

there. i said it.

holy moly. i love it.

and i know it's good for me. even if it makes walking up and down the stairs difficult at times. even if i'm sore all over (at times). even if i'm absolutely, completely, unutterably ravenous, all. the. time. (which makes the fact that i've twice forgotten to eat all the more bewildering).

you want to know why i like it?

well. it's like the class takes everything i've worked so hard to learn over the last couple of years and makes it tangible. physicalizes it. it is metaphor made manifest in my body.

1. i can't compare myself to anyone else. i want to. and i try to. often. but at the end of the day the journey is my own. it doesn't matter if my leg is higher than that of the girl next to me--that doesn't mean a damn thing. no one else knows if i've gotten better or can feel if i'm curling my abs in a way that i've never done before. success is personal.

2. as you continue class after class, the pain doesn't cease. but it changes. it becomes tolerable. you can sit in it (or squat in it, as it turns out. and you will. oh my god, you will) for ten seconds then twenty then thirty. and isn't that just like life? we learn to tolerate the ups and downs--the departures from the base line. we learn to run into those moments, to really dig into them. because those are the moments of great change. and growth. and once we learn to really fully experience those moments things become a bit easier. a bit more exciting. a bit more... worthwhile.

did i say a bit? i meant a sh*t-ton.

i'm not going to tell you that the class has transformed my body in the little over two weeks i've been doing it. and i'm not going to post before and after pictures (as it turns out, there is a limit to how much i'm willing to put up on the internet)  because it's not really about that. yes, while the possibility of thinner thighs is endlessly exciting (though i think it's gonna take a bit longer than two weeks)  it's about my health. physical and mental. it's about increasing bone density and cognitive function. it's about a sense of personal accomplishment. and self-worth. self-worth more than anything else.

(picture from new saturday morning tradition of post-physique whole foods health-bar lunch)


ps: GO YANKS!

monday morning revelation.

you think you're immune to such things as the dreamy doctor in blue scrubs.

you're not susceptible to such cliches. you're...(dare you say it), better than that.

and one morning you wake up and life is as it's always been.

and you climb the hill to subway. the hill that you've climbed so many times before.

and then there in the distance, on the corner, is the cut of a man. a man in that unmistakable blue. and you get it. you finally get that thing that has for so long eluded you. and as edith piaf would say, heaven have mercy.

and everything is different and life has humbled you. because yes. yes. you too love the cliche.

sunday morning.

i wake to the fits and spurts of a heater coming to life for the first time this season. it must be cold out, brisk at best. but my room is warm and safe.

i wander into the living room. pull up the blinds. oh how that blue of the sky undoes me. the trees across the way there...heaven. something about that golden glow of an october morning.

into the kitchen, the cold tiles kissing my bare feet. i put on a pot of coffee. there is the smell of fresh paint in there. i wonder who was painting, what was done.

i find my way back into my room. following the grid of wood grain. turning corners. a symphony of creaks. the room smells of sleep. i crack the window. gather my laundry.

down the elevator to the basement. the painted gray cement and slow grumble of the machines.

there's something about sunday mornings. the quiet. the pliable nature of time on this one day. it is restorative. holy. a time trap in which a million possibilities are made manifest. the great gift of the week that simultaneously ends and begins another set of seven days.

i suppose i could write about...

how i've never worked so hard at so many different things as i did this last week.

and how i then proceeded to sleep through the weekend.

or how a new job as me wearing heels for the first time in three, four years, maybe? (my feet are aching).

how my parents brought me a twelve day supply (exactly one case) of pellegrino yesterday.

and how after exactly one brunch in my tiny little corner of northern manhattan with my mother, father, grandfather and a plate of huevos rancheros i am left me feeling unbelievably homesick.

how my living room is now filled with my grandmother's furniture. dark wood. pieces that look just like the stuff i grew up with. a living history in a new location.

or how i slept on a friend's couch last night so i could make it to the early physique class at spring street.

how i've been thinking a lot about love lately. or like. or attraction. and i keep coming back to the wise words of paulo coelho: one is loved because one is loved. no reason is needed for loving. because isn't it funny how what makes one person attractive is simultaneously a turn-off on someone else? thank god love can't ever really be defined. if it could, it probably wouldn't be worth it.

so i could write about all these things.

but i haven't the time.

life's moving so quickly. and i must stick my mahi burger in the oven and answer some emails and put on some heels because i surely don't wanna be late to work.

broken screen

i got home from work thursday night at two in the morning.

and then woke the next morning around 7:30 to find i had shattered my computer screen. yup, shattered. don't ask how.

i then proceeded to sleep twelve hours friday night. and twelve again on saturday.

i've been feeling overwhelmed and stretched and exhausted. the past week has felt like three. and it's been so great because i'm busy and working hard and really taking the time to do good things for myself. but i need to find a balance.

i can't imagine i'll be doing much blogging this week since my computer is in the careful hands of those mac genius guys.

so until then...

for today, a thought.

"Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them - if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry."

Catcher in the Rye

it isn't education. it's history. of course. we learn from our own. we learn from others. and we continue on.

(sent my way via the amazing Red Boots; thank you, thank your for this reminder!)

you turn 25 and get creative. (or you turn 25 and find life is still hard and you must get a bit savvier about it).

time is slipping through my fingers.

i leave in the morning and am gone for the day.

and that's it.

there's one job. and then another. and then this exercise class on top of errands and meetings and on and on.

and i couldn't be happier to be busy.

even if my schedule is up-in-the-air at best. even if there's no time to run to my apartment in the middle of the day. even if i'm just slightly, just a wee bit overwhelmed. and feeling stretched in one hundred directions. even if i'm tired. very, very tired.

truly, i'm so thankful to be employed and engaged and active.

but it was tonight in the middle of my third-ever physique 57 that i though, oh. my god. i stink. that smell, that smell! is that me?!

upon natalie's suggestion (and encouraged by her gorgeous figure) my friend victoria and i have signed up for the newcomer's monthly unlimited. and we're determined to get our money's worth. and to strengthen our bodies, yeah, yeah.

so we went tonight. together. had to schedule ourselves for an "open" class (which means all levels) as opposed to a beginner's class (our level). we were assured by the receptionist we'd be fine. we could simply choose the easiest level of each position.

now let me be very clear here: this was the first physique class i was unable to laugh through. nope, no laughing. it moved passed the ridiculous to the holy-mother-of-what-have-i-gotten-myself-into. i was sweating bullets after five minutes. my legs were shaking violently at ten. and twenty minutes in i thought if asked to stand on only one leg, one more time, i might actually collapse. it was the first class in which i wanted to cry. a beginner is not an open class prepared for! (at least not this open class, at least not with my lackluster natural ability {not to mention i'm tall and i think that just makes everything more difficult--more body to deal with, more natural weight, and don't even get me started on flexibility}).

but because i have a partner in crime (vic) i returned home tonight knowing i'd have to return tomorrow and those stinky clothes simply would not do. unfortunately i only have the one pair of new balance black spandex.

so i got creative. gathered up my socks and pants and bra, plugged the bathtub, poured a little detergent in, dumped the clothes, and proceeded to take a nice, long, hot shower. walking and stomping on the clothes all-the-while.

and as i did so, i thought, this is how i know i'm twenty-five and really living the dream.

or the life.

or something. i'm livin' something.

perfection.

i remember being young and unable to sleep the night before my birthday. morning just wouldn't come fast enough. it was a physical thing--that tingle of the stomach that spread to the fingertips and the crown of the head. because on that one day--that day of birth--one felt different. special.

i miss that feeling. it's been quite some time since i experienced it.

but yesterday? well, yesterday was perfect. because the day was so normal. i mean, no, not quite normal, but simple and lovely--as close to normal as a birthday can get and still be utter perfection.

it was the cup of coffee i had upon waking. the 7:15 am subway ride in which i ran into a dear friend. the 8:15 fitness class that had my legs throbbing and my stomach muscles doing a little, unsolicited dance. it was the warm shower afterwards. and getting caught in the rain in nolita. it was the french-moroccan bistro and their unbelievably thick latte. it was my new navy blazer that had me feeling beautiful. and lunch with girlfriends. laughter. the ogling of good looking, bearded men as only downtown manhattan (and parts of brooklyn) can produce. it was coming home to a clean room at the end of the day. lit candles against the gray of the sky. a little package from home. my mother's perfect (yes, truly) sugar cookies. the phone call from my bother. an evening spent in our tiny kitchen. lazing about discussing books and clothes and plans. it was the half-glass of prosecco. and the little orange pumpkin that now sits on my dresser. it was all of your kind wishes. lovely wishes. and words of encouragement.

and so when the clock passed from midnight to just-past and i was still awake, i didn't even notice. i didn't regard the passing of another birthday with great sadness as i used to (another year until i feel this way) because it seemed entirely possible that this great feeling, this perfect and simple and bordering on pedestrian (in the most glorious of ways) feeling might last all year long. yes, i'm sure there will be interruptions, ups and downs, but all in all it felt as if yesterday set the tone for all that is to come in this quarter-century-year. and i couldn't be more content.

alright, i'm off to the freezer for one of those sugar cookies. (one can do such things the morning after their birthday).

before the scream.

i have an unbelievably slow reaction time.

i take time to process things. quite a bit of time. maybe too much time?

at one point in utah i came out of a friend's bathroom, rounded the corner, and found myself face-to-face with a very tall man. in the dark. he jumped in my path. i stood there. for a second. processed it (kind of). felt the adrenaline pulse through my body (you know that wave of heat that hits?) and proceeded to let out one of those screams that girls are known for: high, loud, and truly terrifying.

and then i laughed so hard i nearly wet my pants. because i knew the very tall man. i knew him as a friend. a friend trying to give me a fright. and i was aware of just how delayed my reaction was.

in fact he joked that before my departure he'd succeed in terrifying me and then making it out of the room in that bit of space before the scream.

the thing is, my reaction has always been slow. and yes, laughably so. i remember my brother jumping out at me when we were kids. he'd pop from behind a closet door. a bedroom door. a tree. the laundry hamper. and i would stand there. stare for a second. and then let loose a cry of such terror my parents would come running.

i'm slow to react. and i'm a late bloomer. and quite often the uptake takes me just a little-bit-longer than everyone else.

such is my cross. my burden to bear.

someone recently apologized to me. said they were sorry my time in utah wasn't everything i hoped it would be. and i thought, they must have known more about my expectations than even me.

because i didn't know what to expect. that was the beauty of it--i who attempts to control all things (again, my cross) relinquished, gave up, said let's try. what will be, will be (a very unusual moment of courage on my part).

and then another friend recently remarked that for something i dubbed "my adventure in utah" i certainly didn't have much to say about it. to which i replied, because it was precisely that: my adventure. my experience. and at the end of the day it was just for me.

so you want to know why i went? really, want to know?

because after almost five year of struggling to recover from an eating disorder that nearly destroyed me (and no i'm not employing hyperbole) i was happy. and healthy. and i thought, why, the hell not? to go to utah and play juliet and act for the first time in two years because someone sent me an email, because one person happened upon my blog one day and though i might be able to do it? it's too odd, to unusual a twist in my story to say no to.

and so i went.

and the eating disorder resurfaced.

it became clearer, came into focus a bit more, but steamrolled me nonetheless.

and so for the three months there, while yes i learned invaluable things, i floundered. and the eating disorder chipped away at me.

and my parents patiently told me i'd be fine. it was just a hiccup. i wasn't back at the beginning.

but it felt like the beginning.

you see, recovering from this ghastly addiction has been a marvelous progression--varying shades. but the addiction itself has always felt the same. the beginning is the middle is the end.

and so when i slip, it's like moving through a portal of time and space. and suddenly i'm nineteen and a first-year in school. and i'm twenty dealing with unbearable depression. and i'm twenty-one barely getting through the day and twenty-two finding out what it means to have the bottom fall out.

on normal days my body fogs over certain memories--protects me from myself. whole years fade away. but when in the grips of the eating disorder i am at the mercy of a memory all too potent and all too cutting. a memory that colors everything so clearly i can no longer distinguish between past and present. in fact, past becomes present as the preceding five years play out. all at once. inside a body struggling to know... well to know anything. just one thing. to know just one thing with certainty.

so for me, my adventure in utah proved more portal than anything else.

but the miraculous thing--the reason i wouldn't change any of it--the reason i'd do it all over agin--is: i rebounded. and quickly.

the rebound--the great gift of utah. the reason my gut pushed me to go.

my reaction time? hugely diminished. the space between the fright and the scream? nonexistent.

i've always been afraid of those moments of slipping--those moments where my partial recovery is more eating disorder than health. because i know that i tend to stay there for a while. it takes quite a bit of time to recover, to come out of the funk.

but this time. well this time i came out of it. and quickly.

and now i'm not so fearful of those hard days. because i have so much more information and knowledge and experience.

and the funny thing (the counter-intuitive thing) about experience is that, good or bad, it adds value to one's worth.

and suddenly my cross (crosses) don't seem so heavy.

who i am at 25.

i've been thinking a lot about what i would--what i should--write for this.

and the thing is, well, i haven't come up with much.

other than...

i'm okay.

here i am. 25. and i'm okay.

thrilling, right?

well, for me, it is. okay is nothing short of utterly and completely thrilling.

because for so long i was not. okay.

and then i was not quite.

i have moments. all the time. moments where i feel like i should have done more. been more. said more. moments where i feel so far behind. hell, i'm 25 already. this is it? this is all i've accomplished? but then i quietly remind myself that we all have different paths. different life trajectories. our stories vary. and my accomplishments, my multitudinous (yup, i just used that word) victories are mostly private. things that others might never understand. but for me those victories are the difference between not okay. not quite. and just fine.

and just fine, okay, whatever-you-want-to-call-it is the beginning. the beginning of everything. the part of my story where my successes become (i hope) a bit more public.

so who am i at 25?

i'm someone who believes that unsolicited smiles by strangers are one of the most profound acts of kindness possible.

i still use the crabtree and evelyn room spray that my mother gifted me for my 19th birthday. it immediately brings me back to a time of naivete and endless possibility.

i find the music of florence + the machine to solicit more sock-to-wood-floor dancing than is proper or appropriate or even becoming of a lady of my pedigree (and now) age.

the quote that makes the most sense to me right now--right at this very moment: "sometimes i can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives i'm not living" (jonathan safran foer {of course}).

if i could go anywhere tomorrow i'd hop on a boat and sail up the dalmatian coast. or i'd return to rome. and sit in church after church after church. saturating myself in beauty and history. satiating myself with prayer (and a lot, a lot of gelato).

i don't know where life goes from here. but i'm so excited to go boldly into the unknown. to try. and to fail a little, as inevitably i will. but also to start gathering successes. collecting them one by one in the cradle of my arms so i can lay them on the alter of this life as my humble (and multitudinous) thanks.

i am so thankful to be 25. to be 25 and just fine.

see last year's who i am at 24.

image via.

physique.

yesterday morning i took my first physique 57 class.

with natalie teaching.

and my friend victoria by my side.

i thought. i was going. to die.

the only thing i could do was laugh through the entire class.

the first ten minutes consisted of something cleverly-entitled skiing.

let me very clear: there are few things i like more than hitting the slopes--from a very young age this has been true (see below photo as evidence):

but after the first ten minutes of physique skiing my legs were shaking uncontrollably.

in fact, i have no idea how i survived the rest of the class.

but i did.

and the promise of a slimmer waist is just so darn seductive.

yes, yes a healthy, fit body, healthy heart--all that is appealing too. in fact, that is the primary goal.

but let's be honest: new york is small. and ex-boyfriends abound. and one wants to look good when...well... you know how the girl psyche works.

so tomorrow morning i return. for more torture. and i cannot wait.

today is the first day of october.

the start of october ushers in my favorite time of the year.

perhaps it is the feel of the air. the sense of new beginnings and hope. perhaps it is the celebration of my birthday. or that it begins the path to thanksgiving and christmas.

i'm not sure precisely what it is, i'm just glad that it is here.