My 40th Year on Earth: So what did I actually do?

Welcome to the last Island post of 2019 and the first post written from my new home! As I write this, Keely is sitting behind the curtain of the sliding glass door (his favorite spot), looking out into the dark morning. He may never come out of his hiding place. Maybe Keely understood 2019 better than all of us.

I always go into a new year trying my best to be optimistic and hopeful. Last year, around this time, I decided that I was going to spend 2019 doing things that I've always wanted to do but hadn't gotten around to doing. I wanted to live my 40th year on Earth (I turned 40 in June) in a way that included fun, challenge, and whimsy. I devised an impressive list of what I would try to accomplish:

• January: Participate in a Polar Bear Plunge to benefit Special Olympics VA. (ON)
• February: Ride in my first Mardi Gras parade. Hail Nyx! (FF)
• March: Actually sing at a karaoke night.  (T)
• April: Mastering the Art of French Cooking - I'll make a four course meal from this iconic cookbook. (ON)
• May:  Take a welding/jewelry class. (ON)
• June: Experience my 40th Birthday Extravaganza. I don't know what this means yet, but I'll figure it out. (FF)
• July: Launch my podcast, Don't Be a Jerk at Work. (T)
• August: Enter the Arlington County Fair baking contest, probably in the holiday cookie category.
• September: Take drum lessons. (FF)
• October: Go to Hershey Spa because why wouldn't I want to go to a chocolate spa? (PS - I don't like strangers touching me, so this is both a fun goal and a little uncomfortable for me.) (FF)
• November: Put The Craftery plan on paper. (T)
• December: Send Transient Suburbia proposal to at least two publishers. (T)

I classified these activities into three categories: For Fun (FF), Terrifying (T), and Outside the Norm but Still Different (ON). 

So what did I end up doing in 2019? Of the twelve activities, I completed six (links to the posts about each one are in the above list). I jumped into cold water for charity, I rode in a freaking parade, and I sang in public. I didn't make a four course meal from MTAOFC, but I did make the Queen of Sheba cake, one of Julia Child's most famous cake recipes. We threw a huge party at a winery to celebrate my birthday, my dad's birthday, and his retirement. I also embraced my inner old person during the month of June by getting irrationally mad because someone parked in my parking spot. 

I also listened to all four solo KISS albums so you never have to. I'm giving in that way. 

There were things I didn't do, and most of the things I didn't do were big things. These are projects I really care about, but am still not 100% in the right mindset to work on them. That's been something I've really focused on in 2019: mindset. No, this is not a post about Carol Dweck. I tend to focus on the things that could go wrong very quickly or what won't work, and I've made a concerted effort in 2019 to do the opposite. So I didn't send my novel to a publisher or start a podcast or figure out how to one day open my craft store. That's okay. Those things aren't supposed to happen right now. They'll happen when they're supposed to happen. Maybe this sounds like a cop out, but I don't think it is. I want to be able to focus on these projects to make the most of them. I wouldn't have been able to give them the attention they deserve this year. For me, that would be worse than failing. 

Instead of those things, I bought a house, admitted to being a perfectionist and how I need to let that go, presented at my first professional conference, celebrated one year with Keely, and went to Game 4 of the NLCS to see the Nationals advance to the World Series (I also went to the World Series parade because the Nats won). I got a button maker for my birthday and I went axe throwing. 

2019 was a year of introspection for me. I spent a lot of time thinking about what would make me happy, not my parents or my friends, but me. I bought a house (condo, but you know what I mean), something I really never saw myself doing. I got promoted, and have been focusing on being a better manager, which means failing spectacularly but doing it anyway. I asked for help, probably more than I have before. I also had a freaking blast this year, even when things were stressful. I got to spend time with people I love dearly. I rode in a freaking parade (I know I said this already)! I made glitter purses, probably the most frivolous thing I can do. Fun, challenge, whimsy - that's what I did in 2019.

Happy New Year from the Island! 

See you in 2020 for more glitter, Keely, and whatever else I decide to share.

My 40th Year on Earth: Work, Death, and Stuff

I have a realtor.

A few weeks ago, I posted about my perfectionist tendencies and my anxiety around buying my first home. Yes, I'm aware that people buy homes everyday (even if maybe they shouldn't), but that doesn't make it less stress-inducing. Since I shared my post, I've done what I always do: research. I read a bunch of articles about first-time home buying, loan types, the pre-approval process, and even looked at some listings. And then I got very anxious, and asked Keely to cuddle with me. My non-lap cat obliged, bless him, and I felt better. I did nothing, but I felt better.

I should back up a little bit before my real estate anxiety attack. The end of September and beginning of October were a series of unrelated, but actually very related events that have given me some new perspective on life and things (so eloquent, I know). It started with the docent walkthrough of the new Judy Chicago exhibition at the museum where I volunteer. Judy Chicago is one of my favorite artists, and I've been waiting for this exhibit to open. She spoke about it the last time she did an event at NMWA two years ago. The exhibition is called The End: A Meditation on Death and Extinction, and features three sections on grief, mortality, and extinction. With that title, you can imagine what the exhibition is like. It starts with a powerful series based on Kubler Ross's five stages of grief, moves into a personal exploration of one's mortality, and ends with a harrowing look at what we're doing to the Earth. No amount of me describing it will do the exhibition justice, so come visit NMWA to see if for yourself.

So during a walkthrough, the curators take docents and other volunteers through the exhibition and provide insight into the work, the artist, and the exhibition structure. We were in the room focused on mortality when I go to a work entitled How Will I Die #9. The work depicts a woman (Chicago) in bed with a large cat lying next to her. The text in the work reads "Will I die in my own bed with my cat Pete by my side?"

Pete looks exactly like Keely.

Photography isn't allowed in this exhibit, so you have to take my word for it or go see it for yourself. I started laughing, which is a terrible reaction to a very serious subject, but I couldn't help it. I could actually see myself in this image in a way that I've never seen myself in a work of art. It was funny, depressing, bizarre, and comforting all at the same time. A few days later, the museum hosted a Fresh Talk with Chicago and Martha C. Nussbaum, a philosophy and law professor. Nussbaum wrote the essay in the new Chicago monograph about The End. During the talk, Chicago discussed the evolution of her feminism, and the idea of personal and global grief. Listening to the women discuss death and the extinction of the planet was a lot. At some point in the discussion, Chicago said, "If there's going to be change, it's going to be because people take it in their own hands." Obviously, she was talking about the damage we've done to the planet, but like a song lyric, I added my own meaning to this comment. It could be about politics, our personal lives, and my fear of things like buying a house and dying alone in bed with my cat. I can overthink everything or I can just go do it.

A few days later, I attended an event for the release of Patti Smith's new book, Year of the Monkey. This is the third time I've seen Patti Smith live, and the second book talk. (I saw her in concert in 2008 - the start of Old Lady Concert Rules posts.) The new book is a follow up to the book M Train, which was an odd book, told in a sort of stream of conscious way and focused on grief (loss of her husband, damage to her home after Hurricane Sandy). In M Train, Smith travels all over, but it's a focused wandering. Year of the Monkey is a travel book too, but one that blurs "fact, fiction, and dream." It takes place in 2016, a year where Smith lost two very close friends and was working through those losses. I haven't finished the book, which is short compared to both Just Kids and M Train, but it's a little harder to read because I can feel her grief throughout. She talks through the "cycles of death" during the book and her talk. It was a fitting companion to Judy Chicago. Both women were so open about about these private feelings and moments, but in completely different ways. Thinking about death and mortality for several days straight is emotionally exhausting; I can't imagine doing it while writing a book or working on an art exhibition. My brain was mush by the end of Smith's talk/musical performance.

About a week after the book talk, I presented at my first professional conference. My company won an award, and we were invited to take part in a panel during the conference associated with the award. Originally my boss was going to present, but in early September, she asked if I wanted to be on the panel instead. Without hesitation, I said yes. I was in the final stages of preparation for this presentation when the Chicago exhibit opened and Year of the Monkey was released. Imagine having all these thoughts about death and mortality and loss swirling around in your brain while also preparing for a major work event. I'm a very confident public speaker. I like to describe my comfort level as either having "the confidence of a much taller person" or "a mediocre white man talking." I can talk to anyone, especially if I'm passionate about the topic (this is why I'm a great docent). I love what I do, but I've always felt like I wasn't worthy since I fell into a career in learning and development (L&D). Impostor syndrome is real, y'all. I've presented at conferences before, but it was always sponsored by the company I worked for, and my expertise wasn't questioned because I literally helped build the product I was talking about. This conference was nothing like that. I was presenting to other L&D professionals, many of whom have been working in the field their entire careers. I was on a panel with two executives from two other organizations. I've been in a training/learning role since 2008, so I've been doing this for 10 years, but I still felt like the new kid going into the event.

I nailed it. I wore a blazer like a freaking rock star (if rocks stars wore blazers, I don't know their lives). I spoke about the successes we've had aligned our programming with the organization's goals, and shared the lessons we've learned along the way. I answered questions, I discussed strategy, I cracked a couple of appropriate jokes. People came up to me throughout the day and complimented my presentation and wanted to talk more about what we're doing. I've made a bunch of connections professionally. I finally feel like I'm part of the community. I don't think that would have happened had I not joined the organization I'm at today. I've had some doubts since starting, but this event really helped me see the value of the work me and the team are doing. Y'all, I'm a real professional.

What does any of this have to do with finding a realtor? I've been talking about buying a house since the summer, but did nothing about it until this week. I was stuck, thinking too much about everything, getting wrapped up in the stressful parts of buying a house (money, I'm talking about money), hating that I have to do everything by myself, and thinking I can't do it. Having spent several weeks in a row thinking very deeply about some very hard topics and having some real successes made me realize I just have to do this...and I can do this. I don't want to live in a nice, but not great overpriced apartment, dealing with crappy neighbors and stupid community policies (the resident gate is only open until 8 pm - what nonsense is this?). I don't want to pay for Keely to live in my apartment anymore; pet rent is a huge scam. Judy Chicago wasn't talking about buying property when she talked about change, but change only happens when we decide to do it. I want to enjoy where I live. I want to be part of a community. I want my own space. I'm an adult lady who can do things.


Coming soon to the Island: Glitter purse season is back, a Lazy Movie Weekend post, and I start my house hunt.

2018: Art, Bugs, Croissants, and Getting Stuff Done

Hello to 2018! I've only written the date wrong twice this week, so that's something. The new year has started with a bomb...cyclone (see what I did there?) here on the East Coast. It's been freezing cold for the last week, but I ventured out of my house today to deliver my first "Fierce Women" tour at the museum. I figured we'd have a few intrepid visitors come out today. I was not prepared for almost 50 people on my tour today (more like 100 since we have two tours out at the same time). It was insane and awesome and a great reminder of why I volunteer at NMWA.

The "Fierce Women" tour started last year over the weekend of the Women's March. It was originally called the "Nasty Women" tour and was incredibly popular the weekend of the march. Our museum education team, the women who developed the tour, did something like nine tours that first weekend. They were scheduled to do two. Since the march, the tour has been renamed and a group of docents, myself included, have been trained to deliver the tour. The tour is very different from the regular highlights tours we do; it's irreverent, funny, and very feminist. It's based on the idea of museum hacking, bringing an unconventional approach to a museum tour. We highlight eight artists in our collection from the first professional woman artist, Lavinia Fontana to Mickalene Thomas, a modern painter responsible for the first portrait of Michelle Obama. It's a scripted tour, which is different for us docents as well, and we use a lot of source images to help tell the stories of these artists. We also get to tell jokes, racy stories, and add our own personal stories as appropriate.

I love this tour. It's more like performance art than any other tour I've ever given. It's fun, visitors get into it, and they participate. As an educator, one of the things I always think about when designing training is whether information will stick with learners/visitors. Classroom teachers think about this a lot too. The tour is fast-paced and we don't leave a ton of time for questions. What I observed today with my group was that they were getting it. They might not remember everything I said, but I can guarantee they remember a few nuggets and will keep their eyes out for women artists as they visit other museums. I'm also pretty certain this tour has inspired visitors to come back to visit NMWA again and again. They had fun and they learned something.

One of the artists included in this tour is Maria Sibylla Merian. Merian is one of the artists I had never heard of when I first started volunteering at the museum. She's a 17th and 18th century artist best known for her masterwork, Insects of Suriname. Merian always had an interest in insects, even growing silkworms in her room as a teenager. At the age of 52, she sold all of her possessions to fund an expedition to the Dutch colony of Suriname. Her younger daughter accompanied her on the journey, an unheard of act at that time. Women barely walked down the street alone, let alone travel to another country without a male chaperone. She spent two years documenting the life cycles of over 180 species in their natural habitats, trekking into the rainforest, through gardens, and onto plantations. Of course, she did it all in the fashion of the 17th century. I can't even imagine what she tracked in on those skirts. She came back to Europe, divorced the husband, joined a cult, left the cult, and reestablished her art and naturalist career. Her work was important in establishing the science of entomology, particularly because of the fact that she studied from life rather than from preserved specimens.

Merian's story constantly inspires me, as I shared with my group today. Think about it: she's 52, living in a society that doesn't allow her to join the scientific groups who benefit from her work, and people probably think she's a witch given the association of women and nature during this period. Instead of being a butterfly lady painter, she trekked into the rainforest and painted tarantulas the size of dinner plates and all sorts of other creepy, crawly creatures. Whenever I think to myself, "you can't do that" or "this is going to be terrible," Merian pops into my head and I forge ahead, even if it is terrible. I may not be going into the rainforest or helping to move science along, but I can be brave, intrepid, and daring in my own right.

So what am I planning on doing in 2018? I always establish goals at the start of every year. This year is my year of learning: I'm going to take classes, travel more, revamp my professional writing on LinkedIn, and finish my novel. I know it's a lot, but I feel really good about this list. This is going to be a great year.

My 2018 Goals - Remember kids, if you don't write your goals down and put them out in the universe, you won't actually do them. Nothing says accountability like posting my goals here on my blog. Y'all keep me honest.

• Personal
• Classes
• Baking classes. Yes, I know how to bake delicious things BUT I also like learning new techniques. First up, croissant making at Sur La Table later this month.
• Metalworking/Welding. No, I don't want to learn how to weld to fix cars or build a house or something more useful. I want to learn how to make jewelry and maybe metal sculptures.
• Drums lessons/Sign up for We Rock camp - Some people box to get out their aggression, I think drumming will help meld my love of music with my need to occasionally hit things.
• Craftivism & the Badass Herstory Project - I signed up to participate and stitch my story as well as be a project ambassador. This is going to be awesome.
• Finish Transient Suburbia. No really, it will happen.
• Monthly letter writing
• Do yoga at home after I finish up my last seven courses at the studio.
• Travel
• Memphis in May - Foo Fighters show, Graceland, and BBQ with my brother. It's going to be awesome.
• NYC at some point this year to see The Dinner Party at the Brooklyn Museum.
• NOLA - it's been too long away from home.
• Nashville - this might be a stretch, but I'm hopeful I can fit it in this year too.
• Career
• Publish 3-4 articles on LinkedIn.
• Complete a certification course OR present at a conference.
• Sign up for my local ATD chapter and attend one networking event.

Coming to the Island in 2018: Meal planning, part seven (I think) this time I share my experience with a meal delivery service, a bunch of new Lazy Movie Weekends, I learn some new skills, and a month of Stuff I Love. 

You're Doing Everything Wrong: Butternut squash burns edition

The kitchen smelled like goodness and deliciousness, chasing the cold, gray day away. I spooned butternut squash from the pot to the blender as instructed by the helpful Food Network recipe. And then it happened. I was transferring one batch from the blender to the bowl and somehow, a glob of squash made its way to my hand instead of to its home in the bowl. I felt like I was in the slow motion part of an action movie; my movements didn't match the pain I was experiencing. Instead of flinging the errant squash off my hand, I was transfixed by it's beautiful golden hue. My movements slowed and the pain increased. Finally, I snapped out of it and got my hand under some cold water.

Stupid squash.

This is what happens when I plan to cook. I get all excited about making certain recipes and I think I'm doing a good job planning out how the cooking will impact my week. But then the squash starts attacking, the brussel sprouts get an attitude, and I realize I have ground ginger not grated ginger because I'm an animal (apparently). I do everything wrong when it comes to cooking and meal planning.

I'm a planner in literally every other aspect of my life (have you seen my color organized closet?), but I've never been good at meal planning. Conceptually, I understand meal planning. I'm obsessed with the fact that there are over two million results when I Google "meal planning containers" - that's just for the containers to hold said meals. There are almost twenty million results when searching for "meal planning." Everyone, and I do mean everyone, has an opinion or method for getting your meal plan on. I've read so many articles on this, trying to get inspired. Friends, who do this well, have shared recipes and techniques they've found useful over the years. I've tried their techniques. I've made the recipes (some of them), but it never seems to stick. I could pretend like it's because I'm a terrible cook, but I'm not. While I prefer baking, but I'm a good cook. As my friend Emily would say, I would make my village proud where we still living in times when a woman was judged based on her cooking skills and ability to birth children. Oh wait...

Anyway, it's not my cooking skills. What I've come to realize is my aversion to being good at meal planning comes down to four things:

1. I'm an incredibly indecisive person when it comes to deciding what I want to eat on a particular day.
2. I don't like eating the same thing more than twice in a row.
3. I get easily distracted by convenience.
4. I'm only cooking for me. 

I'm not a picky eater; a family only needs one of those and my brother called dibs on that long before I was born. Since I'm not picky, the options are endless, which is overwhelming, so I resort to making the same five or six things because I know I like them and it's easy. One of the things about meal planners that I admire is how creative they get with recipes. No, I don't normally cook sugar pumpkins (those are the little ones used for pies and soup), but I'd love to try! I don't ever think that way and I'm indecisive about food. How can I possibly make a dish that will last me a week if I'm not sure I'm going to want to eat that on Thursday? It's a level of food commitment that I'm not sure I have in me. Maybe this is also why I'm still single. I decided that to combat this particular issue, I would commit first to breakfast items for my meal planning experiment. Breakfast, like a lunch date, is less formal and less stressful. I converted my family banana bread recipe to muffin form and divided them into packs of two, freezing some and leaving others out. These are delicious and one of the best things I've made in a long time. I'd share the recipe, but my dad has to give permission first; it's a long story. I also attempted overnight oats for a few weeks. Let's just say that mushy oatmeal is not my thing. I wanted it to work out but no amount of pecans or fruit could help. I'll stick to regular old oatmeal moving forward.

After my mixed successes with breakfast, I decided to focus on lunch. When I started my new job back in June, I set a goal for myself to bring my lunch more frequently. We have very nice cafes within the office and full kitchens so there is no reason not to embrace lunch. No reason except I'm me. I was doing well for a while, bringing salads and leftovers, but it was so easy to walk downstairs and get something from the cafeteria. Before I started making work friends, I'd go out by myself to lunch to get off campus for a bit. Then I remembered my goal and decided to try some new things for lunch. Inspired by my friend Jessica's meal planning, I tried Thai Turkey Lettuce Wraps and some fancier salad ingredients (from a series of recipes Jessica sent me). I made my favorite crockpot recipe; Turkey Sloppy Joes. I roasted a chicken so I could use it in salads and throw it in cauliflower fried rice for an exciting change. I did fine for awhile, but then the business of work and the stresses of commuting reared their ugly heads and I got lazy again. Then I got annoyed with myself for being lazy.

Enter the butternut squash soup.

I sat down at my computer two weekends ago and began my search for an easy butternut squash soup recipe. I enjoy butternut squash and it's been getting colder so I figured making soup on the weekend for the week was a great idea. I also made a Santa Maria Tri-Tip roast from Trader Joe's on the same weekend so I could alternate between the soup and veggies and the roast (which I put in a salad and had with acorn squash that didn't burn me). The only day I caved and didn't bring lunch was food truck day. I felt that was justifiable for Korean fried chicken. Anyway, I felt accomplished. Despite my squash burn, I successfully made meals for the week and brought them to work and ate them. My breakfasts included the banana nut muffins. The week went smashingly.

Building on the success of the week, I went searching for more recipes. I found a bunch of options in a Buzzfeed post featuring one pan chicken dishes. I opted to make the Sheet Pan Chicken Stir Fry as my first recipe. Besides having to buy oyster sauce and sesame oil, I'm not sure this recipe made much of an impression. I ate it for dinner the day I made it and then brought it for lunch twice last week. It's not terrible; the sauce was good and it was easy to make. It just wasn't great. I was underwhelmed and ended up eating peanut butter and jelly one day and buying a quesadilla from the cafeteria on Friday. If I make this recipe again, I'll double the sauce, add some chili paste, and a few different vegetables (maybe carrots and cauliflower). I'm not giving up hope on this one, but it needs some work.

I have three new recipes to try; Chicken and Pumpkin Rice, Slow Cooker Beef Stroganoff, and Chicken with Sweet Potatoes and Apples (also a sheet pan recipe). These are all things I think I can eat for more than a few days. If none of them work out, one of my delightful co-workers gave me a coupon for a free Hello Fresh box. I'm contemplating the veggie plan for some variety. Even if I don't like it, I won't be out anything.

And that's the real result of this experiment. I've lost nothing. I've accomplished much, even if I don't think I have. I may still cave on occasion and get food truck food or go to the cafeteria rather than eat that salad I so beautifully prepared, but at least I'm trying. I'm trying new recipes. I'm trying to be better about bringing lunch. I'm trying to be healthier when I can be. I will never be these women, but I'm good with that.

Recipes:

• Butternut Squash Soup
• Copycat Chipotle Cilantro Lime Rice
• Thai Turkey Meal Plan Lettuce Wraps
• Sheet Pan Chicken Stir Fry
• Crockpot Turkey Sloppy Joe's
• Chicken Cauliflower Fried Rice
• Slow Cooker Creamy Beef Stroganoff
• One Pot Chicken and Pumpkin Rice
• Sheet Pan Chicken with Sweet Potatoes, Apples, and Brussel Sprouts

Coming soon to the Island: I try speed dating, a special Thanksgiving edition of Lazy Movie Weekend, and I reflect on six months at my new job. Where does the time go?