Yesterday I turned 25. Since about the time I was a teenager I’ve always hated my birthdays. It’s not to say that they don’t always tend to be wonderfully amazing and full of love and kindness. It’s just this: I hate turning another year older. What woman doesn’t? Really?

I thought so.

My 25th birthday was fairly uneventful and relaxing, just how I want it. I’ve mentally caught myself today a few times going “Holy shit I am 25… I don’t feel 25…” I think the greatest gift by far was that Mack’s Dad is on the mend (better words to serve the situation justice would be directly from Mack’s mother in her blog posts here and here) and life is good.

Since I’m feeling particularly sappy this birthday, here are 25 life lessons/things of importance (in no particular order) I’ve learned in the last 25 years:

1. Family is who you laugh with, you cry with, and who drives you crazy. I’m so thankful for my family and the families who let me into their lives and teach me so much.
2. Getting dirty isn’t the end of the world. Sometimes it’s half the fun.
3. Take risks. You never know if you’ll like something until you try it out.
4. Sometimes the best things in life are free. Other times they’re pretty expensive but worth it in the end.
5. Pay attention to the small details. They might be the most important and life altering.
6. Travel. The whole world is at your finger tips and it expands your knowledge/life/understanding so much.
7. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Even the stuff you think is big ultimately it might not be.
8. Life is fragile and not to be taken for granted.
9. Don’t judge a book by a cover… although sometimes your initial impressions of people turn out to be true. Give them a chance first.
10. It’s okay to admit you need help and you don’t know all the answers.
11. Relationships are hard work. It makes them that more enriching and worth it.
12. Try new foods that might otherwise be scary. To go with point 3 you never know until you try how much you might love something.
13. Communicate your needs/wants/desires. Don’t assume people know what is going through your mind.
14. Sometimes the best car trips are going no where with someone you love by your side and the open road in front of you.
15. Don’t limit yourself or sell yourself short. You might think and know someone else is better at something out there but why beat yourself up over it? Know your limitations and shortcomings and work and making them better.
16. Nothing is more relaxing than the touch of someone you love.
17. Dance. And sing. Even if it gets you looks let go with wild abandon.
18. Make new friends and acquaintances to go with ones you have. Never limit the number of friends.
19. Cut out the drama and poison you don’t need to deal with. It creates unnecessary stress and ultimately, who is it helping?
20. Learn to enjoy yourself. Love yourself. Know what a worthwhile individual you are. If you don’t believe it than why should others believe it?
21. Try to learn something new everyday. If you can’t do that, improve upon something you know everyday. Always strive to be a better person.
22. Be loyal to those around you and give devotion, patience, and caring to those who deserve it. Show those who you love that you do love them with your whole heart.
23. Listen to music. Read. Actual do these things and pay attention.
24. Relax.
25. Smile.

Technorati Tags: life lessons, birthday, family, important, lessons, life, twenty-five, aging

“Winter dies into the spring, to be born again in the autumn.”
- Marche Blumenberg

Technorati Tags: winter, photography, quotes

Friday night after I got home I noticed I had missed a call from my brother Noah at 11:30pm. Concerned, I called him back to find out the devastating news: they had to put down Midnight.

Midnight first came into our lives when I was a freshman in high school. One of Noah’s clients’ grandchildren was followed home from school by this big love of a black dog who wanted nothing more than a pet on the head and attention. Unfortunately they lived in a house with no yard and told Noah of their problem. My parents, already the happy owners of the spunky yellow lab Sierra, agreed to open their arms and hearts to another animal.

Sierra and Midnight were partners in crime and loved each other so deeply. Wherever Sierra went Midnight was usually close behind watching her back or there to reap the benefits of her begging for treats. Where Sierra was in your face and hyper active Midnight counter-acted her spunky energy and gave her a zen and calming force to keep her in check. Yellow and Black they were each other’s ying and yang.

Fall of 2006, Sierra was slowing down and not as much of the peppy puppy that she had been for years. She wasn’t old by any stretch of the imagination but the years were slowly catching up with her.

Then she was diagnosed with lung cancer.

Sierra bravely pushed forward and tried to hide her pain from the her beloved family. We saw her slowing down and tried to hope for the best outcome for her. Through it Midnight was her rock, cuddling up to her and knowing when she was pushing herself and silently getting her to slow down and take each moment as they came. By December she was in too much pain, the cancer spreading too rapidly, and we had to put her down.

We all handled her death really hard. The diagnosis was shattering and from the time we heard “cancer” we had a few short weeks left with her before it became too much. Everyone in the family was devastated by the loss of Sierra. None as much as Midnight.

I honestly don’t think Midnight ever got over the loss of Sierra. The years caught up to Midnight with her death and for weeks, months, years he’d go around the house as though part of him was missing. My parents eventually adopted another dog, Maggie, who served as an energetic companion but I don’t think Sierra could ever be replaced in Midnights heart. Sometimes you’d look at him and see the air of such sadness and loss it just broke your heart.

When I moved back this summer I was surprised at how old Midnight had gotten in the time I had been gone. Every time I went up to visit my parents I’d fear it’d be the last time I’d see Midnight alive. I tried taking as many pictures as I could but something in his past, before he came into our lives, gave him such an aversion to cameras that I didn’t want to stress him out and tried to let him sleep in peace. He had slowed down and the gravity of a life at its end weighted down upon him and brought an almost sense of peace to the great black dog.

Tuesday I went up to my parents house to do dinner with my brother and parents and Midnight wasn’t feeling well. He had had surgery to remove a tumor and slept most of the time. At one point he tried to get up but just couldn’t find the strength or energy to get up and stand on his legs. My brother helped him up and all of us avoided eye contact while praising Midnight. The end was near but none of us was really ready to accept it yet.

Friday night my Dad took the dogs out for their nightly walk before he went to bed. Midnight, tired and hating the dark, opted to stand in the driveway as my Dad took Maggie down the street to do her business. When my Dad got back Midnight had collapsed on the driveway and couldn’t get up despite his valiant efforts. Dad went upstairs in tears to find my Mom who called Noah thinking he was out. Fortunately, Noah was home and was able to bring his car around, wrap a warm blanket around Midnight, and drive him to the animal ER where he had to ultimately be put down.

Writing this entry is the first time I’ve cried about the passing of Midnight. I’ve been telling myself repeatedly good stories about Midnight and taken comfort in the fact that he had a long happy life with us. He was a well loved dog with a heart of gold and a doggie smile that could light up a room. I know if there is an afterlife that he’s reunited with Sierra and oh-so-happy. He’s sorely missed by all and left behind a void in all our hearts that yearns to be reunited. I’m glad his suffering is over and take comfort in him being apart of our lives for so long but still, it hurts and I miss our dog.

Midnight, you were a good dog and shall sorely be missed. We’ll never forget you boy.

Technorati Tags: dogs, dog, death, rainbow bridge, animal passing, euthanasia, pet death, animal death, loss, bereavement

I wish I was the type of person who could easily dismiss things. The type who (typically) don’t have a care in the world and can tune out the rude, mean, and otherwise annoying stuff that comes up in life and tries to bog you down. Like water rolling off a duck’s back, the simple act of letting stuff not get under my skin would be nice.

I’ve always been a perpetual worrier. I also am, for lack of a better word, a nurturer (someone else gave me this title and I can’t think of any other non-egocentric way of putting it). One thing that has been repeated told to me is that I need to “learn how to be selfish”. I know my “enemies” and those who don’t truly know me might think “Gawd Anne you’re a really selfish person already,” but a) shut up and b) you don’t honestly know me.

Sure, I think humans are for the most part very selfish egocentric individuals who’s primary focus is themselves and their own gratification, screw other people. I’m a very cynical person but then again, I know many of these people. I can be selfish as all heck sometimes so when I was told, point blank, that I need to learn how to be selfish and stop trying to be a people pleaser it shocked me. I was told whenever I want to do something for someone else I need to stop and think “What will I be getting out of it? Will it make me happy?” These thoughts are weird to me and make me, honestly, sometimes feel shitty that I have to learn to think this way.

What comes hand-in-hand with my low self esteem sometimes is thinking negatively about myself. I hear I’m a people pleaser and to “learn to be selfish” and self-doubt takes over and I’m like “Well, I already think I’m pretty selfish and should do more for those who I love.” Then my mind falls back on the conversation and, if you try to please people too much and focus on them instead of yourself, you’ll eventually drive them away.

Yes, I know, I need to turn off my mind sometimes. I over-analyze and tend to “beat a dead horse” about stuff. I say all the stuff above because when people are truly rude to me, go out of their way to be mean, and take me for granted? It hurts. I know it hurts everyone in their own ways but I internalize stuff too much and physically feel my chest and throat tighten as my mind says “You suck, that is why they are so rude to you.”

Since November I’ve been working really, really hard on the self esteem issue (among other things). It’s an uphill battle sometimes with set-backs and a lot of self reflection as to why I react to stuff the way I react. Why do I let stuff get under my skin so much till I cry since someone decided to be a jerkface to me? I’ve managed leaps and bounds with my self esteem and hardly ever make negative comments about my physical appearance (which, if you know me, is a HUGE accomplishment for me). As I talk through stuff with people they wonder why I have these thoughts and negativity about myself since I’m an “awesome person”. Logically, I know these things. I know I’m worthwhile, awesome, pretty, unique, and all sorts of other wonderful words. Logically I know these things.

Emotionally? Not so much. I’m working on it but it’s a slow process.

The past two months have been full of lots of reflection and changes for the positive for myself and examining the not so glamourous stuff. It’s hard and sucks sometimes but needing done. While I have set backs along the way I’m glad I’m taking charge and “fixing stuff” and trying to emotionally understand that I’m worthwhile and fuck those who don’t realize it.

I’m who I am and there is no one else I’d rather be. It’s my mantra I say daily and slowly, I’m coming to realize these things and that ultimately? I’m cool. Simple as that.

Between all my brothers being home for the holidays, the general craziness of holidays and life, and catching the flu I’ve had no energy to blog. So please, pardon the dust and more blogging to come in 2010 when I have the energy and health.

Here’s to another year and hopefully an awesome 2010 for us all!

I don’t know what has gotten into me but I apologize in advance: two fashion posts in one week. Those who know me know I’m usually not really into fashion and being trendy. It’s not that I don’t care but I can seriously think of a million other things I’d rather spend $400 dollars on than a pair of designer jeans, a purse, or shoes. I can go down to Target and get good stuff for under $20.

I guess I am turning into a Frugalista. (Does the fact I know that word/marketing campaign make me less fashion challenged?).

Last weekend I went shopping with my friend Hayley. This naturally would cause concern of my friends and family since I loath shopping. When I got my cavities drilled I think I had more fun than I would normally do shopping. I’m tall, have large feet, and find the whole experience a waste of time. Anyway, Hayley mentioned she wanted to hit up Old Navy to look at their scarves. On our road trip moving from Florida Hayley always had a scarf around her neck. I thought this was really strange since it was July. Why the hell was she wearing a scarf? Seriously. Mack and I would give her endless grief about it and she would, in turn, wrap the scarf more securely around her neck and ignore us.

I guess this is why on her voicemail yesterday she called me her “fashion challenged friend”.

Now, the last time I went to Old Navy was an experience in itself. I don’t know what it is about the store but it makes people grade A jerks. Perhaps it’s all the cute items or I just happen to venture into the Old Navy’s in the yuppie parts of towns. The time before last I went with my friend Jenny who is pregnant with her fourth kid. Naturally, being pregnant, she likes to mess with people. She is my friend for a reason. I don’t know if she was intentionally trying to piss people off, though, when we were trying to check out. The line was all sorts of crazy and all over the place and she thought, perhaps, there were two lines. Jenny went up to the second register and stood behind another customer until this woman took it upon herself to walk up to Jenny, grab her arm, and start screaming at her that there IS a line and she needs to get to the BACK OF IT since SHE was there FIRST.

Seriously? It’s OLD NAVY. I could make all sorts of crass comparisons to represent how stupid the woman was about freaking out over a line at Old Navy when there are a million worse problems in the world. Of course, I saw a woman loose her calm at Starbucks since she wanted to buy a newspaper and OH MY GOD YOU LITTLE SHIT YOU KICKED ME. WATCH YOUR CHILD.

This is why I let her in front of me in line, FYI.

When I was little I used to wear dresses and skirts all the time (stay with me, this is totally related). My Mom used to occasionally try to put me into pants but I’d freak out since I was a GIRL and needed to wear my Mary Janes and look super adorable. Peer pressure ultimately made me despise wearing dresses and skirts and to this day I’m still am iffy about wearing them. While at Old Navy with Hayley, though, I saw some skirts on clearance. Mack loves when I wear skirts or dresses since I imagine it’s a huge change from my usual tshirts and jeans. It’s like whenever I wear a skirt or dress it must feel like Christmas has come early! Or perhaps it’s a sign of the end of the world as we know it.

I ultimately decided to splurge and buy the skirt since, heck, why not.

Last night I decided to wear the skirt out to dinner with some of my friends. The only problem was what to do with my legs under the skirt (not like that, you perverts). Now, as Hayley so aptly put it, I’m fashion challenged. I don’t think I would really be legit to wear socks and my Converse knock-offs under the skirt. Plus, it was really cold last night. Before dinner I decided it would be in my best interests go get tights for under the skirt since of course I don’t own any.

Girls: what is WITH tight sizes? I stood there for a good ten minutes look at the back of the package trying to figure out my size. I remember when I was little looking at the back of my Mom’s tights packages with its complex graph saturated with colors and diagrams which, when uncoded, could probably hold the key to world peace. The problem with the tights size chart that I had?

I don’t fit in a specific size.

I know I have put emphasis on (a lot) the fact I am tall. I’m also what I feel to be about an average build and weight. I’m not bean pole (or as my soccer team mates called me growing up: a gangly spazz) but I’m not festively plump. According to the tights size I was an XL for height but only a L for weight.

Pardon the internet slang but: WTF.

It irritates me that they don’t even have my size but I guess I should marvel at the tight manufactures and the guess work that goes into making tights. Like, how do they decide the “average” sizes for the charts? I wonder how many people (like me to a mild degree) that they piss off with their size decisions? And what of those who are super skinny and tall? Short and fat? I ended up getting the tights for my height and the thigh highs ended up around my neck practically. It was magical. Really.

So, to those out there who know fashion: what do you do in those situations? If you’re weight is one size and your height is an entirely different size? The only thing I can think of is that I should eat some donuts and get in the “proper” weight category but I think that would counter-productive for my health and also my cholesterol problems. How do you “fit the mold” or at least make this fashion crap work for you?

Technorati Tags: fashion, womens fashion, clothing, shopping, marketing, beauty, beauty industry, consumer

I’ve always been a “tall drink of water”. Growing up I was always off the charts height wise for my age while being in the 80th to 90th percentile for weight. The doctors predicted I’d hit the height of 6′ by the time I stopped growing. My Dad was delighted at the prospect of his daughter being so tall. What better way than to scare off potential suitors? My Mom, on the other hand, wasn’t thrilled since that would mean that all of her children would be taller than her. More than once, I kid you not, she threatened to strap a brick to the top of my head to stop my growth process.

My Mom grew hopeful when, in seventh grade, I stopped growing. Of course, by this time I was 5′10″ so I wasn’t short by any stretch of the imagination but I _was_ the same height as her! (before she, of course, shrank two inches thus forever being shorter then me). While living in Japan you would think I wouldn’t have got any taller. For one, I was sixteen at the time so hadn’t really grown height wise in three years. Also, I was slouching and trying to make myself as short as possible the whole year. It’s no joke when you’re at least a foot taller then all your friends and trying to take a picture. I felt like Godzilla or a really annoying Caucasian photo bomber in every photograph I was involved in.

Seriously, spot me. I’m the only giant smiling since I didn’t know it was uncool to smile.

When I came back to America my Dad was sure that I had grown again while living in Japan. Silly Father, I’d tell him, I only grew fatter, not taller, while living there. (Truth be told I gained about 20 lbs. That’s another story entirely). Finally, after a month of “I swear you’re taller Annie!” we broke out a measuring tape and sure enough, I was 5′11″. Or, if you want to get technical, 5′10 3/4″. Rounding up is so much easier.

Now the point in telling you all of this is so you get this: I’m tall. The last time I wore high heels was when I was eleven and playing dress up with my Mom’s shoes. I’d put on a pair of her high heels and walk sloppily across her bedroom like LOOK AT ME MOM! I’m SEXY! and she looked at me, smirked, and said “You look like a drunken sailor.”

Thanks, Mom.

Needless to say since I was hardly vertically challenged, except when staying upright. I never felt the need to really to learn how to wear high heels. I mean, I’m naturally a klutz anyway (since the door totally jumped out at me). I didn’t really need to encourage the need to face plant into walls or dirt. Plus, there is only an inch difference between Mack and I. If he slouches when we go out I look taller than him and instantly curse him and his need to make me feel like Godzilla (or Annzilla) all over again.

This past Halloween it all changed for some reason. Call it a rush of sugar or my brain disconnecting from the reality of my situation. For some reason I decided that it was essential for me to wear high heels with my She-Devil costume (or as I lovingly called it “a Catholic Boys Nightmare” since the party was thrown by my very Catholic friend). What better way to strike fear in the hearts of mortals by towering over them in my red dress and wig?

With my gigantism, naturally, it means I have big feet. My family likes to call them “[Mothers Maiden Name] Feet” since they’re long, narrow, and kind of go to a point like those weird medieval shoes you see and laugh at.

Okay, not exactly like this since they’re kind of freaky looking… [source]

I was also determined not to face plant into cement at any point during the night so required the heel to be more then a centimeter in support. After hitting Target with absolutely no luck Mack suggested we hit an adult store. Sorry to those readers who that offends but there is something you should know: adult stores have some cute shoes! Of course, they serve for the fetish or goth crowds but what better for a She-Devil?

Luckily we were able to find a cute pair of Mary Janes with FOUR INCH HEELS. I write this all in caps since remember how tall I am? As I walked through the party (slowly, kind of doing this shuffle thing) I stopped in the kitchen and was depressed to find my eye level was above their fridge (it was dust free. Kudos to the cleaning Christine!).

Leaning back against the wall…

“oh shit! I’m falling! I regret nothing…!”

While I had fun with the heels I guess, since I’m tall and don’t know these things: how do you survive wearing heels for an extended period of time? I mean, seriously, I had a whole new respect for my gender (and drag queens who are better at fashion, make-up, and everything than me) that night since I ended up having to sit down a lot. (plus I wasn’t towering over people as much while in a sitting position). While I enjoyed the experience of the heels and knowing my legs went on forever (and ever) seriously girls (and guys who likes heels): HOW!?

Technorati Tags: fashion, shoes, accessories, klutz, high heels, woman, girl fashion