thankful in new york city

Forward: I intended to write this post a month ago. Or a year and a month ago, when my family came to spend Thanksgiving in New York City and I was going to share all the things you should do. The thing is, I got caught up doing them. And then it was Christmas, and there are so many Top 5 Lists of Best Things To Do fighting for 10 seconds of your eyeballs’ time all over the internet, and I didn’t know if the world neeeeeded another. So, of course, I planned to do it this year (since I knew all the things you should do), and I have alas failed again. Meg has been holding down the Lupine fort (I’m very grateful—even though she’s super busy) while I’ve been in a transition the past few months taking on some more clients and work projects. I’m thankful for the work and the opportunities, but when you work in social media and creating online content, I’ve been a little adverse to wanting to spend more time on the internet or in front of a screen in my downtime. I’ve had some Lupine adventures and many many thoughts (I have all the feelings), and I’m hoping to start sharing those again here over the next few months. Finding balance is key— and Lupine is a kind, peaceful, inspired sharing space— not our jobs. (maybe someday? #dreams) So for some catch up and that Thanksgiving post… 

This year I created my own Thanksgiving in New York City, deciding to see my family at Christmas. Last year we checked NYC Thanksgiving off our #FreemanAdventure bucket list and drank hot cider at the Macy’s Parade on the Upper Westside in the rain, saw the balloons being blown up the day before at the Museum of Natural History, gazed at all of the holiday windows on 5th Avenue, strolled the Christmas markets in Union Square, walked the Highline, ate at our favorite spots, and of course saw a few Broadway shows. (support live theatre people!!) Unfortunately it was cold and rainy most of the time, but we enjoyed it anyways…it’s hard for NYC to NOT be magical during the holidays.

A year later, of course the weather was unseasonably warm, and they are not here to do all of the things! Ha! Instead, I slept in, hopped to my couch at 9am to watch all of the Broadway performances at the top of the Macy’s parade in my pajamas. My boyfriend and I slowly got ourselves out of the house and biked/skated over a few avenues and caught the end of the parade as it headed down 6th Ave from Central Park. This is the way to do it— performances on TV at home, and then the last few balloons in person. Quite a few people who had probably been lined up since 6am were heading out by the time we rolled up around 10:45, and it was such a chill crowd. And 20 minutes later, Santa rolls by, and we have the streets to ourselves, so we decided to head up into Central Park.

The day couldn’t have been more perfect, what all of the tourists could only have imagined New York City to be in the Fall… the sun was out, the colors were vibrant, and the leaves were slowly floating down as we moved through the park. There wasn’t a person without a smile on. We cheered during “showtime” in front of the bandshell, laid in the grass and looked up into the sky, and grinned at the local sax player- he just makes my heart so happy. We picked up a few last minute ingredients on our way back home to make some family favorites, cooked the rest of the afternoon, watched holiday movies, had friends stop by, and of course ate way too much. (you HAVE to.) The day was so surprisingly calm and savory. Thanksgiving was different than last year, but I’m still grateful for both. Did I mention I woke up to a small real Christmas tree in my apartment my boyfriend threw in the back of an Uber with a Radio City Christmas Spectacular santa hat on top several nights before? 

Moral: Celebrate Thanksgiving? Eat food with those you love?

Today marks a year since a small/giant miracle happened. I’ve officially been in my own apartment that I won in the NYC Housing Lottery for an entire year…ahhhh. I think it took about 9 of those months for me to actually believe they weren’t going to call and say, “Ooops! We made a mistake!” or “You forgot to do XXX so unfortunately…” and kick me out. I started to settle in and create a new home and new season of life of my own. I finished off my year of being #twentyGREAT and turned #twentyFINE at the beginning of December. I met my boyfriend in the Village the night before my birthday and we went to a bar hidden on top of a Five Guys where my friends surprised me with jazz hands, smiling hearts, and pink cupcakes. I’ll tell you, it’s really awesome to have a group of friends that know you and love you. That’s what we all actually want— to be known. And loved. Really loved, because they actually know you. Not just love the idea of you or what you often pretend to be. It’s rare to find. And it’s a lot of work, and long nights, and desperate phone calls, and waiting rooms, and bottles of wine, but it’s oh so worth it. Your tribe is the best thing you can invest in. And I’m so thankful for this intimate community I have; it’s what makes my life rich. 

Each year I choose a word or a mantra to focus on - to heal, to be happy, to be free, to go do all of the things - and I’m thinking #twentyFINE will be a year of action. A year of creating and fulfilling all of these plans and dreams and wishes we keep talking about. I follow-through on ideas for my clients and work projects, and I’m working on building a creative lifestyle where I also have just as much (if not more) creative energy and focus to invest in my own work. I have too many ideas that I haven’t followed-through on; what am I waiting for? I’ve spent some time away from the dance community to hear my own thoughts instead of just following the herds. So, now that I’ve found some clarity and rejuvenation, it’s time to do something with it. #twentyFINE (like a glass of wine) = to CREATE. Create art, dances, stories, relationships, community, experiences, journeys that I believe in. Ones that matter. 

Andddd I just spent the last two weeks in the Swiss Alps and German Christmas Markets…so let the games begin! (don’t worry, you will be flooded with all of the german-austrian-swiss stories very soon. hint: it’s true, the hills ARE alive.)

Let's kick Christmas ass, shall we? 

And one last parting gift from the goddess Cheryl Strayed:

“Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or, rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit. There’s nothing more boring and fruitless and than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this.”

Happy Holidays!

kayaks and canoes

The little blue backpack was put to good use last week during the aforementioned family tradition.  While my grand hiking plans were thwarted, I did get to adventure along one of my favorite paddling routes.  You win some; you lose some.

I (generally speaking) have a fairly strong aversion to the unsalted-ness of lakes and ponds. Fresh water folks do not understand this.  They try to tell me that what they have is where it's at with their lack of post bathing sticky skin and absence of Jaws-related fish.  (That last one is false by the way if you've been keeping up with Shark Week.)  

There are, however, exceptions to every rule (or irrational fear as the case may be) and Rollins Pond encompasses two of them.  Foremost, it is deep enough at points for me to ignore the fact that all things wrong in this world lie at the bottom of it. And secondly, it is connected via a variety of creeks and rivers to other ponds and lakes.  This means I can focus my attention on the adventuring aspect and less on the leeches lurking below the surface.  (They are worms and therefore they take no prisoners. Scientific fact.) 

As my family likes to make it a habit to invade where ever we may go, we enlisted our full flotilla of kayaks and canoes for our descent on Rollins Pond and the surrounding areas.  That above photo is only a fraction of the group.  I told you - we do not mess around. We slowly meandered our way from one pond to the next, regaling anyone within a mile radius with our never-ending Pocahontas inspired sing-a-longs.  (Spoiler alert: smallpox was just around the river bend.)    

While these pictures may indicate otherwise, it actually ended up being a beautiful, sunny day. No one unintentionally ended up in the water, hazardous run-ins with the local fauna and flora were kept to a minimum, and as far as I know everyone was still on speaking terms at the end of our journey - which may be related to points 1 and 2.  All in all, it was a successful family outing in the great outdoors, fresh water included.

Should you find yourself in this neck of the woods and looking for a paddling adventure, here's a breakdown of ours:

Route: Rollins Pond --> Floodwood Pond --> Little Square Pond --> Whey Pond --> Rollins Pond

Mileage: ~6.5 

Time: 4 hours (we moseyed, stopped for lunch, and indulged all whims)

Canoe Carries: 2 (one is about 1/3 mi, the other is a hundred yards or so)

Tears Shed: 0 (whining not included but it was kept to a minimum, especially post lunch)

Number of Disagreements Regarding Paddles versus Oars: 5,926 (and counting)

notes:

- the tri-lakes region (tupper/saranac/placid) is home to a plethora of paddling adventures.  we mostly bring our own gear but i have heard good things about the folks at st. regis.  they even have a list of suggested routes and trip planning tips. so fancy.

- if scavenger hunts are your jam, there are a bunch of geocaches in the area which could easily be incorporated into the trip or be their own separate adventure.  we indulged in the latter and good times were had by all.  don't forget to bring a trinket to add to the stash.

how to survive: traveling with your mother

It seems fitting that as we are in this weekend that celebrates all things motherhood that we should talk about our mothers, namely my mother who has accompanied me on many hare-brained and full-brained adventures.  While my family has always made traveling a priority (a perk of having a father who earns a ridiculous amount of miles from work), it wasn’t until after high school that my mom and I started having our own trips without the menfolk.  Side note: there was the epic college road tour of 2002 while I was in high school, but since I have a narcoleptic response to motion sickness and we made that journey via a standard vehicle, I have very few memories.

In the 10+ years we’ve been adventuring together, my mom and I have traveled about in Paris, Poland, Uganda, Tanzania, Singapore, Cambodia, and Vietnam. Not to mention the various weekend trips we’ve taken to visit friends and loved ones here in the States.  Throughout all of this adventuring, we have managed to actually enjoy each other and ourselves on these trips to the extent that we continue to make future plans together.  So if you are thinking about setting out on a trip with your mom, here are some lessons we’ve learned along the way:

1. Be vocal about your needs before you start your trip. 

My mom loves history and story and art and then more history and then even more art… and you see where this is going.  I sometimes think that if it was possible and not creepy that my mom would live in an art museum.  I on the other hand need a whole lot of fresh air and a fair amount of downtime from crowds.  When traveling about in Paris, we made a deal.  In the morning we could go to any museum, exhibit, or the like that my mom desired but in the afternoon we would mosey about a new arrondissement and take advantage of the numerous cafes.  Both of us got what we needed and hurt feelings/unmet expectations were avoided.

2. Embrace alone time. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I love my mom.  It’s just that space is a good thing, even on or especially on a mother/daughter vacation. Make it a point to spend some time wandering about your new locale on your own terms.  This is especially important if you don’t both operate on the same schedule.  Instead of waiting for your travel buddy to wake up, get ready, etc., go outside and stretch your legs.  Hey now, you may even make a new friend during your wanderings.

3. Pursue activities that only make you happy solo.

 In case you are new to this neck-of-the-interwebs, I love to explore the outdoors and have a hard time saying no if it is in any way, shape, or form related to some kind of activity in nature.  My mom enjoys these things but also really appreciates sunbathing with a cold beer and a good book.  In Vietnam, we all were invited to go on a hike through the woods to a waterfall.  Two out of three of us thought that sounded like an excellent idea so my friend and I went and my mom hung out down by the beach.  Happily.  Without resentment. 

4. All you need is love.

Need I say more?  But seriously - you’ve made this decision to travel with your mother so there is a general assumption that she’s a pretty sweet lady.  After all she had something to do with you now being an (almost) adult.  Inevitably, we all get on each other’s nerves at some point but the best response we can have is to choose to assume positive intent.  Because after all we love our mamas and I’m pretty sure they love us too.

notes:

- all these photos are from our trip to cambodia and vietnam.  it was pretty epic.

- what do you say mama, antartica next?

little house in the big woods

For the last of my whirlwind I-don’t-want-to-be-home-from-vacation-so-I’ll-pretend-I’m-still-on-vacation weekends, I snuck up to Connecticut to spend some quality time with my cousin Colin, his wife, and one of his close friends.  Armed with boxes of donuts, I braved the torrential downpour of rain and made the 3 or so hour drive to their house which to me is out in the middle of the woods (or you know a 15 minute drive from Hartford).  

I didn’t realize until I moved out of my parents’ place but it is rare to have people in your life that you can completely decompress around.  And that it is absolutely necessary to have an outlet for silliness.  At least it is for me (don't worry I am judging your lack of silly ways... I kid).  Colin and I are ten months apart and share a number of what I think are endearing quirks.  Case in point: you want to have an eating contest comprised of slices of pizza and holiday spice pepsi (there’s a reason only 85 people have signed that petition) and follow it up with a foot race?  Of course!  Even better we’ll go barefoot because it’s winter…?  Mind you we had consumed no alcohol.  Nada.  Zip.  This was pure, unadulterated genius.  Pretty much whatever half-brained idea one of us comes up with the other is game.  No questions asked.  

When I signed up for a marathon (against my better judgment), I knew the first person I wanted to share it with was Colin because he would understand.  You see it's not that signing up for a race, even this long of one, is that big of a deal per se, it's that I am by no means a runner.  I get bored easily and I find running to be extremely repetitive.  Also, I lack that part of the brain that works through pain - the moment running becomes even remotely uncomfortable I walk.  I even walked the mile for the Presidential Physical Fitness Test in 4 out of the 5 years I had to do it. (My gym teacher loved me.)  Oh and  I have only run farther than 3 miles (intentionally) once in my life.  Once.  And there I went and signed up to run 26.2 of them.  

But you know what?  He totally got it.  Because he's awesome.  And we're weird.  And maybe, just maybe, I can convince him to run it with me and then go run this a couple of weeks later because that's how we roll.  Minus the eating contests this time around.  Once was enough... or twice.  It was repeated with a mushroom theme several years later.  What can I say - we are slow learners.

Besides running through the still snowy woods (and getting lost and then found and then hills), the rest of the weekend consisted mostly of eating my weight in delicious food while chatting it up and playing games with some of my favorites in front of a roaring fire.  There may have been some 90s inspired dance parties as well (because really what weekend is complete without one?)  

I ended my getaway with a cruise on the Long Island Sound because sometimes the best way to reacquaint oneself with the day-to-day grind is to take the long way home.  For the next couple of weeks, I am keeping my travels limited to the five boroughs and dare I say I am looking forward to it.

notes:

- if you happen to be driving on a Saturday morning (or you’re just looking for a listening activity), tune in to car talk on npr.  these guys made my morning. 

- i made headway on taking pictures this past weekend… i just think my family would consider disowning me if i shared all of them on the interwebs.  besides which trees + snow +brooks are pretty.

- (apparently, i like parentheses.  a lot.)

the family that plays together

More often than not, I escape to Long Island on the weekends.  It’s gotten to the point where my roommate is genuinely surprised to see me on a Saturday or Sunday.  Some may say I have an addiction to the beach.  I say it is all in adoration.  Potato.  Potata.

I used to deny my love of the island mostly because I wanted to separate my growing up self from my being grown up self.  I couldn’t appreciate my childhood home because I was entirely focused on how I was different.  I was my own person, with my own home, and my own set of living standards - not those dictated by my parents.  The funny thing is you can never fully separate yourself from your family - for better and worse.  My life is a reflection of my family and the nature versus nurture that I received plays out in my day to day life.  It informs how I treat others, the types of relationships I strive for, and the goals I pursue. 

I’m not entirely sure when the switch happened and I realized how awesome family can be but I fully embrace it now.  And how do I show that love?  By insisting my family goes kayaking with me when it is almost December.  Sans wetsuits. And in open water (well at least for part of it).  It’s really their fault.  They chose to raise their children in a little town on the bay where the go to activities are sailing, swimming, surfing, etc.  As a result, my brother and I have an insatiable need to be at or on the sea.  Case in point: I lived in a landlocked country for a year and I used to close my eyes and pretend I was on a boat with the sea splashing on me as opposed to my current reality of being on the back of a motorcycle with sand whipping in my face.  You do what you have to do.

These days though I don’t have to pretend.  I just travel out on the island, embrace my family, and insist that we spend some time together.  Salt water included.

notes:

- if you wish to go kayaking or paddle boarding on LI, check out here, here, or here.  even though i subjected my family to it, i would not recommend going out during the off-season (when it is cold) as your first time and/or without proper gear, i.e. wetsuit, gloves, booties. ignore my feet in the above picture and do as i say, not as i do.

- i have a brother.  we did not exclude him.  someone just decided that finishing a paper for grad school was more important. psh.