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Shocked about Schock? Read between the writers’ lines

21 Mar

Aaron Schock, former congressmanIf you haven’t read former Congressman Barney Frank’s comments about now former Congressman Aaron Schock (R-IL), or if you don’t have gay male friends on Facebook, you might not know or care about the rumors that Schock is in the closet.

Schock, 33, announced his resignation last week, following inquiries about his spending habits and ethics.

As NPR and other outlets have reported, the controversy surrounding his finances was sparked by a Washington Post story last month that his office had been decorated in a manner resembling scenes from “Downton Abbey.”

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What does “yes” look like?

20 Jun

YES

Inspired by Alice Derry’s “Fooling Around,” and poet & teacher Elizabeth Austen

I’m saying “yes” these days to adventure, eating vegan (B6, mostly) and finding a new level of happiness. “What smoking, drink and the wrong man had done.” That could have been me, but I only had a few months over the course of a few years of damage.

I’m still a bit green in terms of this change, if that makes sense, though in many ways I’ve always said “yes.” The yoga retreat in Kauai was a boost and reading “Wild.”  Starting Bar Method in April kind of kicked off this new perspective, and then ballet lessons. I’m drinking less (mocktails with Lisa B. and Chloe!) and my rewards the other night included an impromptu ballet performance, Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble” on the way home on the radio and a gorgeous sunset with radiant and explosive colors of gold, white, pink and blue.

I’m saying “yes” to a quick walk down the street with my camera after spying a pre-rain rainbow in the early evening. It was gone, alas, but I captured some pretty photos of the sky and crew members on the Montlake Cut heading towards Lake Union.

I’m saying “yes” and “no”to invites for meet ups, ensuring that I have a little down time and that I get my workouts in. Cleaning can wait. (ha)

And I’m saying “yes” to attending my high school reunion in August. At first glance of the post on Facebook, I thought “no,” because I was already going home at the beginning of the month. But I haven’t been to the last few reunions. And then FB friends forwarded the invite. Shannon, whose locker was just a few steps away from mine from 7th through 12th grade sent me an email message about the reunion. And the plane ticket wasn’t that expensive. So I’m going to do it. Oops that my parents won’t be home and I’ll need to rent a car and will maybe want to stay near Midway on Sunday night, because my flight is early-ish on Monday.

Julie Robertson, class of ’87 at DePauw University, and a sorority sister we fondly called “Pluck” because of a Woodstock costume she wore during rush, died two days ago from ovarian cancer. May she rest in peace.

Bar (method), ballet and such

24 May

ballet barre

It’s been nearly a year and one-half since I wrote the infamous “tulle and me,” a blog post about my desire to take ballet lessons and to have legs like the dancers from Trey McIntyre Project or Whim W’Him or … fill in the blank.

I made it happen recently, ballet lessons, and I also started a new ballet-esque workout called The Bar Method that I am really enjoying and that has helped to transform my body. I don’t necessarily have ballet dancer legs yet, but I’m on my way, I do believe.

I’d been curious about Bar Method classes, and they launched a 60-day bikini body challenge in April that benefits Ben Towne Foundation, which I know through my work at Seattle Children’s. So it seemed like the perfect reason to try – improving my body and donating some money to a great cause (pediatric cancer research).

My aim was for 24 classes in 60 days, and I reached that goal yesterday. Yay, me. It feels pretty amazing and I know my body is stronger and I feel more confident and better about myself. Take that, ex-boyfriend who showed up at the recent W’Him show. Skinny khakis that used to fit now fit and a swimsuit I bought to swim laps fit me just a few weeks after I started bar. Kind of amazing and a wake-up call that I had somehow become lazy doing yoga. When I took my first bar class, which typically includes 30 to 40 push-ups, I knew that I hadn’t been working the right muscles. And it’s served also as a reminder of how the body can change as we age.

I signed up for the ballet class months ago, after seeing and buying a deal from Living Social. A friend from work had recommended the dance studio, Exit Space. I’ve had three classes so far of eight, and I was thrilled initially just to purchase and have a pair of ballet slippers. No leotard yet, but I have visions of using my footless tights, after seeing what others have been wearing to class.

After the first ballet class, I felt a happiness that was indescribable and seemed a bit silly, but it was real. That feeling continues. Bar Method classes have helped strengthen the muscles that help me in ballet, and we will see where it goes. I like the camaraderie at bar, even if at first it can be intimidating because there are, seemingly, lots of perfect bodies. As for ballet, I hope to graduate to the next level of classes and could aim for a move en pointe, though I’m not sure if older students graduate to that level.

And I’m off to Hawaii tomorrow for a week-long yoga retreat and strengthening on many levels, so this blog post is perhaps a bit more free-form and quickly written, compared with others. But it’s also overdue, to share the transformation story.

Days 17 to 23 of 40: Back on track

17 Feb

Half moon pose from Yoga Journal

My real work outs began again this weekend, one week after gum graft surgery. (Yes, this is a funny video and no, I didn’t find it completely accurate. There is not any gum in the roof of your mouth; it’s tissue.)

Yoga yesterday, and today – 90 minutes each class. I feel great. My torso is sore in a good way from the twisting and core work (thank you, Liz).

Earlier in the week, I made sure to walk every day. Of the highlights, on Monday, I took a walk to the University District to pick up a prescription. 40 minutes round trip. I was still feeling the effects of the surgery, and while peeking gently at the gum graft sites, I worried a bit about whether I might have an infection. Turns out, now that it’s healing up even more, it was just the sutures on the left side of my mouth that looked like an infected wound. Gross, I know. And I also figured out that if I really did have an infection, it would have been hurting and not just looking like something was wrong.

My periodontist said right before the surgery that it was great to see a patient that had so much saliva flowing. She said that most of her patients are on so many medications, it dries up the saliva. Not something I’ve always thought about being thankful for, but it was a nice reminder that I am healthy and not on a bunch of meds.

On Monday, during that long walk, I took a cue from a scene in Liberal Arts. The main character walks around listening to opera, and he comments on how it has changed the way he views the city. In that scene, everyone looks at him and smiles (the scene takes place in New York City). I was listening to Mozart arias performed by Cecelia Bartoli. It’s a favorite disc of mine though I haven’t listened to it for awhile. Sorry to report that the music did not have the same effect on the people that I passed. Maybe one or two smiled, but one guy gave me a pretty quizzical look and a lot of people ignored me. So – interesting experiment but not quite the same results.

My horoscopes have been strange and somewhat dark this week on Astro.com. On Tuesday, Feb. 12 the subject line was: Something is wrong. Yikes. On the one hand, some of what was in there is true – you’ll separate yourself from persons or circumstances that are doing you no good. But then it went on to say in the process, I’ll experience a considerable amount of tension, and that I may be confused for awhile. “You would be well advised to go off by yourself for awhile, because other people’s advice will be of little value, unless you select your advisors with great care.” The horoscope went on to say feelings of restlessness and uncertainty would be strong. I actually do feel some of that.

Looking more on the bright side, the subject line for today is Soft lights. But, wait – tomorrow is A new tack. More thoughts on this change in direction for my life. “Keep working, for your efforts to expand and liberate your life are not finished.”

Having it all: What does that mean?

12 Aug

I’ve never taken a pregnancy test, and won’t have kids at my age unless it’s through adoption or a future boyfriend’s slash partner’s slash husband’s existing kids.  I felt distant from the whole “women having it all” debate from a few months ago because, let’s face it, I am an outlier in many ways:  I’ve never been married, don’t have children and will never “have it all” in the eyes of some people.  Sometimes those eyes are even my own.

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Vows, Modern Love & the NYT

17 Oct

I love the Sunday New York Times. I used to feel guilty when I couldn’t read most of the paper and I’d have to dump a massive pile of unread newsprint in the recycling. It’s that Catholic guilt thing again. But then I decided if I was able to read at least one article each week, it would be enough.   I set myself free and continue to enjoy such well-written pieces that amaze me, educate me and make me happy.  Pretty basic, I know … but it means a lot.

Case in point – Sept. 19 SundayStyles section. It had been lingering on my coffee table. Yesterday, I put my recycling project into gear and I’m glad this section didn’t make the cut. The Amy Ryan profile caught my eye at first and I thought it would be good bedtime reading. I then reconnected with Vows, the somewhat elitist weekly column that features a wedding. The Sept. 19 article profiled Ariana Rockefeller (yes, of the Rockefellers) and new husband Matthew Bucklin. Like other Vows features, the Rockefeller-Bucklin story relays a fairytale-like, sweet romance. Love lost, and found again. Missed connections. Long distance trials and tribulations. Love found later in life. You get the picture.

Vows used to be among the first, if not the first section I turned to when I opened the paper. It varies nowadays, and I’m not sure if that is because I’ve grown more cynical in the whole finding-true-love story, still angry at the last guy who broke my heart or if the stories perhaps depressed me because I’m still single. I do still believe in love, for what it’s worth, and perhaps the reconnection with Vows can help me remember that.

That whole “being single” thing brings me to Modern Love, a fabulous column where I hope, one day, my writing will appear.Modern Love essay collection I recently submitted my third essay to editor Daniel Jones and have been rejected twice. It almost still feels like victory to be able to submit a piece.

In that same Sept. 19 issue, there’s a great essay by Seattle-based writer Kathy Harding. I must find her and congratulate her on this beautifully-penned piece, “Diving deep to reach the surface.” Penguins, a chance meeting with a guy at a party … and then, it happens. Sigh. Another good reason and reminder to read the Sunday New York Times. And I haven’t even unwrapped the packaging on today’s issue.