Yoga

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My first yoga class was 4 years ago, in Boston. I hemmed, hawed and drug my feet there — to  Back Bay Studio – with my sister.

Beginner’s Vinyasa was the most painful experience…um…ever. My toes were miles from my hands. My shoulders popped every chance they got. And my hips…oh god, how did you get so uneven? Is that even normal?

Breathe, my teacher said.

Breathe.

In. Out. And then in and out, again.

photo-161I wasn’t hooked, but I showed up routinely for the rest of the summer. You see, I knew it was good for me, and at the time I was more than willing to force myself through anything “good for me” [which is, ironically, not good for you at all].

For the next three years at Wake Forest, I tried out each of Winston-Salem’s studios, fighting with my body and my mat and my mind — thinking I was improving just because I could jam myself further into each pose.

Then I found Bonnie and Elliot at Village Yoga.

iphone photos 012And they taught me to be kind and gentle with my body. They taught me to be patient. To release my shoulders, slide them down my back and stop furrowing my brow. To quit competing with the mats next to me.

And finally, what it meant to breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. And then in and out again — with my joints and my mind and every fiber and tether of my being.

It’s been a constantly humbling journey. Today, I did nothing right in class. Nothing. I didn’t balance, I didn’t hold. I broke and found myself in child’s pose a lot…just, you know, breathing [and muttering unrepeatable curse words].

And I thought about all the things yoga has taught me…

1. Flexibility – it’s much more mental than physical.

If I had a dollar for every time someone told me they could never [omg NEVERRRRRR!] do yoga because they’re horribly un-flexible, I would probably have like, I don’t know, 314 dollars by now. But, as you practice, you realize it’s the mind that starts the fear cycle — it tenses you up, it freaks out about falling on your face, it thinks something valuable will snap if you go further. Calming the mind, with that ever-elusive breath, solves a myriad of problems [in class and otherwise].

2. Your lungs are your most sacred organ [organs? how does that work?]

You thought I’d say heart, didn’t you?

But consider the evidence: a.) if breathing is the most important skill for your practice, this makes sense, b.) you’d die without your lungs or your heart…so, why not choose lungs? and c.) the workings of the heart are totally outside our control [both its physical and emotional elements] but the workings of the lungs are totally within that control. In. Out. Expand. Contract. We do that. We’re in charge.

3. Kindness.

If there is one thing serious yogis share in common, it’s kindness. Most specifically, in regards to their own selves. They’re unlikely to make you, or themselves, feel inferior, small, or inconsequential. They won’t be mean to you — not to your face, not behind your back and definitely not on the internet or social media. They will take a deep breath [maybe a few more, if you're exceptionally agitating] and accept you. It feels nice.

4. Your body hates you. Really.

I know I just spent a lot of time telling you to love your body…but this is not a mutual thing. This is some serious unrequited love. You don’t realize it until you really start practicing…but, eventually, it dawns on you that your body is disgusted with you — with the junk you eat and the amount you drink and the very little that you sleep. So, to try to get on its good side, you start reversing such behavior. And you realize how supple and light and airy you’re feeling. And how much crap — emotional, habitual, and otherwise — you have. You unload. The bad stuff in your body. The bad stuff in your mind. The bad stuff in your heart. Gone.

5. Dust into Gold, kids.

You clever little minx, you noticed, didn’t you? That each of the aforementioned points shared a common thread — the miracle [WHOA a miracle!] of changing our bodies and selves in a positive way. That’s what’s happening in sorcery, when the shaman or wizard or whatever that dude in all the movies is that turns dust into gold does. The physical changes take a little longer to appear, but the mental changes arrive almost immediately. Your emotions, your presence, your dingy, tired soul — they all lighten. Loosen. Breathe.

And everyone notices.

And suddenly you find yourself crawling to your mat every chance you get.

The Difference A Year Makes

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When I carved out this little corner of the world wide web for myself, exactly one year ago, life really couldn’t have been more different.

Senior spring at Wake Forest…the rolling hills of Winston-Salem, North Carolina…an embarrassing amount [no, seriously, embarrassing] of freedom and free time…existing in a perfectly slow, collegiate malaise…

Weekends at the beach,

sunbathing sipping521610_10151442531510026_1438853346_nAfternoons in the backyard,

ripperfest

photo-39Balmy evenings at the ballpark, reveling in the “downtown” bar scene, or sitting on our stoop wishing time would stop slipping by.

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So much has happened since then.

I graduated,

photo-70Moved to New York,

296089_3662854372479_807660768_nWent home, and watched my best friend marry the man of her [our? everyone's?] dreams,

IMG_0675IMG_068328033_4019756174719_205839489_nGot a job and joined the legions of 20-somethings scraping by in the big city,

photo copy 2Survived the hurricane,

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Made new friends, reunited with old ones,

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And squeezed in as many good meals, tasty recipes, and fancy cocktails as possible [favorites here, here, and here!]

salmon 002 pork 005IMG_0829photo-40It’s been amazing to collect so many memories with you.

Thanks for [still] stopping by!

Best Brunches: NYC

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Brunch is my favorite meal, always has been. It’s also my favorite portmanteau; a perfect blend of  ”bring” and “lunch,” because brunch literally brings breakfast to lunch. Genius. Which, conveniently, also applies to its origination — while most believe brunch to be the lovechild of Hollywood and artisan muffins, they don’t have the whole story. Really, brunch dates back to the pre-Industrial Revolution days when people were running out of excuses to skip church [obvi].

Over the years, it’s developed into the behemoth event that it is [especially in New York, where it's practically an Olympic sport] and choosing where to go is too often left to guerrilla tactics such as looking for the longest line outside the smallest café on the narrowest sidewalk on the coldest day in winter.

And so, to save us all the pain of scouring the streets for various 20-somethings screaming into their phones, “No! They won’t seat us until the whole party is here!,” [the hallmark of a good brunch] I thought…why don’t we just all compare notes and share our favorites?

Here are mine, in no particular order:

1. Resto, Murray Hill

Screen Shot 2013-04-08 at 1.36.06 PMEverything about Resto is hearty — from the thick-cut bacon to the eggs swimming in tomato sauce and slathered with cheese to the almost-charred tasting coffee. Come hungry. Come because it’s close to your apartment. Come for the ambiance. Stay because you’re subdued by food coma.

It’s all sorts of wonderful.

2. Cafe Orlin, East Villagephoto-38Cafe Orlin is the home of pumpkin pancakes topped with cinnamon-yogurt glaze. Anyone who’s been will tell you to order them. Yelp begs that you do so. The wait staff proffer them as the solution for any debating patron. NY Mag scolds the idiocy of anyone foolish enough to dare consider an alternative plate.

And me? Well I don’t order them and choose instead to stare, longingly, with a smattering of drool on my chin at every plate of them whisking by.

But it’s all good, really. And it’s cheap. And it’s crowded and you should get there early and if you do, you can sit outside and enjoy the sights and sounds of the East Village as it wakes up on Sunday morning.

3. The House, Gramercy

IMG_0739This is a classy one, y’all. This is where you take Grandma and Grandpa when they visit. Where you put on your trusty brunch-pants and favorite brunch-shirt and revel in the glory of being awake/showered/made-up before 11:30 on a weekend — I mean, it’s impossible to feel mature when you’re sitting on your couch, lights off, sucking down Cinnamon Toast Crunch at 4:17 in the afternoon.

No, here you’re a grown-up. You perch on your bar stool, you sit in that revamped carriage house and you exhale a sigh of relief: “I am a mature, put-together adult who can reasonably order a pizza for breakfast and a bloody mary before noon and no one will think less of me…” Or something like that.

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4. The Guilty Goose, Chelsea

Screen Shot 2013-04-08 at 1.34.45 PMGG is good for exactly one thing: a boozy brunch. It’s the place you go when you wake up at 11 a.m. on a Saturday still mildly-to-completely drunk from the night before and think: “I am never drinking again, unless it is RIGHT now.” You [I] think this because you [I] know drinking is the best cure for a hangover….except that’s not true. It’s not ‘curing a hangover’, let’s be clear, it’s just ‘getting drunk’, again.

Anyway, you roll out of bed and begin assembling your brunch squad. “Guilty Goose in an hour!” you shout down the dark abyss of your hallways, hoping at least one roommate hears. You call your troop of delinquents from the last night, “What?! You’re still in bed?! Haven’t you heard? GG [a pet name, of course] in 30! Get moving!”

You don’t argue about location because where else can you get hours of bottomless mimosa pitchers, enormous entrees and Irish Coffees for $35? Oh, and those freaking frickles that you were certain you hated but suddenly can’t stop eating?

Screen Shot 2013-04-08 at 1.44.22 PMPlus, you’re spared the nightmare of trying to figure out who-owes-what [the constant curse of professionally stagnant 20-somethings]: “Your meal is $3 more because you added prosciutto. Sorry to be the bearer of the bad news.” “Um, whatever, you two shared an extra french press, hi! We’re even!” “Not really, because I paid .90 cents more on the cable bill this month, so get over yourself. Cheap ass.”

Save yourself. Go to The Guilty Goose.

5. Sarabeth’s, any of the locations

Screen Shot 2013-04-08 at 1.37.24 PMCrap, I love Sarabeth’s. I loved her from Missouri — hoarding jars of her preserves and hot chocolate mixes in every spare cabinet — and now I love her from a much more reasonable proximity. Between Taylor and I…the whole menu has been sampled. Devoured. Enjoyed. Sighed over. Face-planted into. You get it.

There’s just something magical about it, something that makes Sunday — the only buffer between us and the work week — seem like less of an evil beast, something that immediately gets you thinking, “Everything in here is going to uplift my spirits and make me a better person.” It’s that good. Too good. Especially the Morning Crunch in the summer and the Papa Bear Oatmeal in the winter. Oh, and the $7 dollar grapefruit juice, it’s totally worth it [we swear].

5.28 038There’s more…but I can’t stand to hear my stomach grumble any longer…we’ll have to resume some other time!

Enjoy!

Physique 57

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You’ve heard about it, I know.

physique57

We’ve all heard about it — it’s trendier than all five of these foods, at least one of the Kardashians [though I'll never reveal which one], and certainly more than me and….just kidding I would never lump you into this category.

Kelly Ripa swears by it [her biceps second her opinion]. It’s literally the only exercise Chrissy Teigen does. Denise Richards and Emmy Rossum are always gushing about it as well. Plus, you can barely escape a Target without having one of the DVDs or exercise balls hurled at your face and ricochet into your shopping cart. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the bloggers, they eat this ish for breakfast.

So, like any logical 23-year-old, I’ve feigned indifference, perhaps even arbitrary disgust, for the past few years — “I can neverrrrrrr do DVDs at home…Do you even sweat during those classes? [sweat being the obvious indicator of a good workout]…Why would you ever pay that much for a 1 hour class?!” [$36/class is not messing around].

collage57But then they contacted me last week to see if I wanted to try out a couple of classes, write a review, take some pictures, and some-such — and maybe [maybe] I jumped up and down, clapped my hands, and fist-pumped. Maybe a tear even sprang to my eye, but it was totally windy out so all bets are off.

Either way, I quickly said yes and booked a beginner class for last night – after my Chaise 23 experience, where I cursed every stair and the lift of either arm for days, I knew to start small.

I was right.

I can’t say everything hurts, because 1.) that’s not very creative, but also 2.) it’s not very true. Not everything is sore. But what I’ve discovered trying out these two studios is that every muscle group I so love to ignore — my thutt [it's a real thing], my upper body in general, but my triceps and that odd region between my shoulder blades more specifically — these studios love.

For example:

Swivel ChairThis really burns after a few minutes.

You know else? It also burns later that evening.

And the next day.

I want to stay positive, but I’m not sure it will feel better tomorrow.

And then there’s this:

PretzelThat doesn’t look hard. But if you were to ask my love handles what they had to say, they would politely disagree.

And then, I mean…:

Thigh DancingWhat does this even work?

I don’t remember, probably because I was face-down on the carpet in a pile of defeat at the time, but I’m sure it was effective.

Which is probably the best way to describe the whole hour: effective.

Sure, the teachers are amazing, and they certainly make it as fun as possible, but at its core it’s really just a meticulously planned, well-thought out, 60 minutes of exercise. I didn’t really sweat. My heart wasn’t jumping out of my chest. But it really prioritized muscle groups that too often fall by the wayside during my general workouts.

I shy away from workout DVDs so I can’t comment on their product — because I’ve refrained from trying it, not because I haven’t heard great things — but if you can afford the price tag and are near a studio, I think it’s a great thing to sneak in your routine once or twice a week!

I’ve already booked my second class…so that probably tells you more than the previous 500 words in this post, right?

Things I Learned After Moving Away

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Going to college, as ripe an opportunity for growth as it was, pales in comparison to moving to New York. No team, no coaches, no built-in friend group…

team photo

Wait, no orientations, classes, tutors [what? not me!], or school-sanctioned social functions either.

Nope, just me, the city, and roughly eight-to-ten million people I had never met, still haven’t met, and will never meet.

New York is an inherently humbling beast. You think things are going your way — you can finally give nagging tourists directions, you’ve stopped smiling at strangers when you make eye contact on the subway [because that really fahhreaks people out up here], you know all the Jewish holidays and their traditions by heart, you’ve even taken part in all the Jewish holidays and their traditions…

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And then New York comes calling. It knocks you down. Way down. Further than you thought possible. It reminds you that you’re hundreds of miles from your family. Oh, and most of your friends. It tells you all about how expensive life can be and how competitive and ruthless some people are.

Along the way, basking in the glory of those highs and bitching and moaning through those lows, I’ve learned a thing or two [let's be real, I was never going to stop this list at 'two'].

1. How to budget. Budget like WHOA.

2. How to get a bartender to totally forget I have a cash tab [see #1].

3. How to get other patrons to pick up said tab without infringing on my sexual/moral/personal integrity [or theirs].

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4. That knowing your limit does not necessarily make you weak.

5. And obeying that limit does not necessarily make you smart.

6. The less you want to ask a question, the more important it probably is.

sunset

7. If someone ever asks your permission to date, court, or sleep with the man you love, tell them no.

8. They will probably do so anyway.

9. They probably already have.

10. Loyalty is important.

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11. But when you get down to it — down to that golden nugget of truth hiding at the center of the universe — very few people are loyal.

12. This does not negate #10.

13. But, still, not everyone deserves yours. Keep an eye out.

14. There are very, very few reasons to ever hurt someone. Ironically enough, these times are also when you want to the least.

15. People grow apart.

16. People leave.

in pursuit

17. In both scenarios, it’s okay to miss them.

18. Sometimes, it’s okay to tell them so.

19. They are not obligated to care, or reciprocate.

20. Holding on to something that no longer works, be it a relationship, partnership, friendship, or job is unfair to everyone involved.

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21. Being sorry usually means more to you than to the one you’ve hurt.

22. Be honest.

23. Life goes on.

24. But really, it does. Whether or not you want it to.

25. Everyone has something to say.

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26. It’s best to let them say it.

27. Being sensitive doesn’t mean you’re desperate. It’s not a flaw, no matter how many times people may try to convince you it is.

28. Sometimes people you really love — really, really love — will end up hating you.

29. It hurts.

30. After a crisis, it might feel as if you lost part of your soul.

darkness

31. Don’t worry, you’ll get it back.

32. Theme parties still exist. They’re still fun.

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33. The city is beautiful at night.

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34. Also, during the day.

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 35. And from a distance.

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36. If you buy earrings from a sidewalk vendor, wash before wearing.

36. Be yourself. Be your weird self as hard as you can.

37. Becoming jaded as you get older is something people have said and written about forever. Know this is optional. Bad things happen; things you never wanted to happen, to you and/or to those you love. You’re going to like things you shouldn’t, love people who don’t deserve you, and miss opportunities you should’ve valued. Rather than cast those experience aside, chalking them up as stupid mistakes, feel them. The pain, the stupidity, the loss. Feel them as passionately as you feel the good and great things. Then, move on, and work to make happy the person you were before things got all twisted and torn inside.

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38. Have fun.

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39. Lots of it.

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Muchacho

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Do you know what feeling I love? Standing in the glow of a warm window, especially in the winter. The afternoon sun streams in, flooding your veins, warming your toes, the back of your neck, quite possibly even your soul – what perfect, unadulterated relaxation.

It’s the closest analogy I have for Phosphorescent‘s new album, Muchacho.

phosphorescent-muchacho

His sound is gloriously simple. It begs, and deserves, to be savored. To be heard, with head tipped back and eyes closed.

When Phosphorescent’s Matthew Houck came off the road after supporting his last album [2010's Here's to Taking it Easy -- not necessarily my favorite], there seemed the distinct possibility that he was finished.

Exhausted, he pulled out his country-drifter playbook [which seems to take up permanent residence in his back pocket] and took off for Tulum, Mexico. He took long walks. He swam in salty waters. He checked out, for a while, anyway — but slowly, the pieces of what would become Muchacho began taking shape.

A unique purity rings through all of Houck’s music — a result of recording everything alone. He brings in key players for individual parts, but the end product is always the result of meticulous work done in isolation.

Understandably, then, Houck’s voice sits at the majestic center of the album — but it’s an unreliable instrument. It hiccups. Cuts out. Catches.

But, boy, can you feel your heart catch in your throat when it does.

Regret-soaked, bar room heartbreak. Right there, that’s what that is. It feeds right into the overwhelming theme of redemption coating this album.

They’re simple sentiments. But the album cradles a simple space — a space where well-worn sounds are the most beloved; where ideas are settled into like old chairs.

I love it.

I hope you do too.

Smoothies

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What a title! You’re so excited by it…I can tell. Almost as excited as I am by Monday mornings, folding laundry, and vacuuming my couch [wait...is that normal? how do you clean your couch?].

photo-37Spring has finally graced New York with its presence and while I’m tempted to give it a surly, cold-shoulder considering its delayed arrival, excitement has gotten the better of me and I’ve flung myself into ‘spring mode’…which mainly consists of getting out the boxes of spring clothes from under my bed and putting my blender on the counter.

It’s smoothie season, y’all [check your calendars, it totally started last Thursday]. My favorite season, really. After Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my birthday season, of course.

photo-34But like any smoothie enthusiast, after a month or so, you’ll find me making the same mix every day, and the childish smile once displayed as I schlepped mason jars full of various pureed fruits and veggies to and from work will have all but fled.

I’m determined to combat said fate this year, with a few new variations.

photo-33Let’s work from left to right, here. It’s Monday morning, after all, and there’s no use in making things complicated.

1. Mochanana

That’s not a real word [also...unpronounceable], but as evidenced by the photo, and the fact that I’m currently drinking it, it is a real smoothie. So lets proceed as if my spell-check isn’t flipping its shit and discuss the ingredients.

- 1 cup strong coffee [get at me Monday]

- 2 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder

- 1 small, frozen banana

- like…half a bag of spinach?

- 1 scoop Sunwarrior Protein Powder

- 1 tbsp chia seeds [makes smoothies so thick and creamy and dreamy and....they're good for you?]

I love caffeine. It loves me. So, just following the proper flow of logic…I love this smoothie and it loves me. It’s a regular. You should try it.

photo-36mmm time to talk about that greenish fellow…

2. Peachy-Green [see what I did there?]

- 1 cup frozen peaches

- 1 cup unsweetened vanilla almond milk [or whichever milk you fancy most]

- the other half of the spinach bag

- 1 scoop Sunwarrior

- 1 tbsp chia seeds [similar reasoning stands]

- 1 tbsp unsweetened cocoa [more if you can't stand the green tint, or just can't stand being without chocolate]

Frozen peaches and I are close friends. Really close. So close, in fact, that they usually don’t make it to the blender [frozen-fruit runner-up pineapple has to take over]. They usually make it home from the grocery, but then immediately they’re in my stomach. I don’t even know how it happens. It’s like I black out and when I come to I’ve got sticky fingers and peach juice in my hair and covering the better part of my face. It’s…ummm…sexy.

Somehow I kept my grubby little fingers at bay [this time] to share with you. Do take advantage.

photo-353. I really regret giving the first two titles, this one is mainly Grapefruit.

- 1 whole grapefruit + its juice

- 1 scoop Sunwarrior

- splash of almond milk [vanilla, unsweetened, once more]

- 1 tbsp chia seeds

Here’s the deal: do you love grapefruit? Do you? Don’t lie. I’ll still be your friend. I’d be your better friend if you love it like I do but whatevs, I get that it’s a little tart; a little sour. I, as it happens, LOVE GRAPEFRUIT. I fahhhhreak over everything grapefruit — grapefruit lip balm, body wash, bars of soap, countertop cleanser [because then MY WHOLE APT smells like grapefruit. A joy to live with, I am]. I adore that punch of tartness. I mean, that’s basically what a grapefruit does — punches you in the face, with tartness. Right smack in the schnoz. It’s a battle I engage regularly.

Maybe you hate tart. Maybe sour isn’t your thing. Maybe your whole face is scrunched in dismay — at both the prospect of this tartness / my sharing it with you so early in your week. But maybe you should just add a packet or two of truvia and stop complaining.

Whoa, did I just get defensive over citrus?

I did.

I’m sorry.

Don’t hold it against me. Just enjoy the smoothies, k?