you want me to jump out of what?!

September 12^th. 6 am – I wake up suddenly. I’m sweating. Not in a “there are too many covers” kind of way but a cold sweat. Like a “there’s fear living in my body” type of sweat. I think, “This is the day. This is actually happening.”

Flashback a few weeks…that’s when it all started. My husband and I were going whitewater rafting with a few friends. On the car ride there, our friend says that in honor of his 30^th birthday, he’s going to go skydiving. I instantly say that I’ve always wanted to do that and that I’d definitely go. It’s not even like I paused. That was the immediate reaction. It was as though my brain didn’t even have time to interject. Maybe I just thought that it wasn’t something that was going to happen. Maybe it was because I already thought I was so extreme that skydiving was a natural next move. For the record, I’m not extreme. Not at all. I mean, the whitewater rafting that day consisted of us floating down the Potomac alongside people tubing down the river…with coolers floating next to them…and there I was with my paddle and helmet. Completely extreme.

Ok, so then a week or two pass by and we are at the beach with friends, when our same friend says, “I’m calling the skydiving place tomorrow. I’m going to book it.” Great. I can’t wait to jump out of a plane.

From that moment on, it was ritualistic review of the skydiving company’s website – What does it feel like to jump out of a plane? How far up to go?! What happens if you wet yourself? Wait a minute. What am I doing??  (They didn’t have an answer to that last question. They did, however, have an answer to “Can I bring my pet?” Why would you bring your pet? But then again, why would you jump out of a plane?)

So 6am the morning of, my body must have realized what was happening. I wonder if my brain was finally like, “Hey, body, you know you’re going to throw yourself out of plane today, right? Yeah, this was a choice. Free will. Idiot.”

My friends came by around 9 am and we were on our way. The weather was rainy and gross. “No way are they going to let us jump today, “I thought. I read the website 20 times, remember. We called the company when we were about 20 miles away and they said none of the morning groups had jumped but if wanted to come by anyway, we’d see if it would clear up. We figured we were 20 miles away so we might as well just go. We get to the site and there is a tiny pocket of sky visible. Hmmm, maybe this was divine intervention. Maybe God, was like, “I’d prefer you to live. I don’t have time to look after you today. I have more important things to tend to.” But for some reason, we proceeded to start ground training, just in case that the weather cleared up. The first step was to watch the “informational video” which was bizarre and what I’d expect of a cult video. It was an old guy with a long beard, wearing a suit and sitting behind a desk, welcoming us. Seriously? Step two was about 10 pages of us signing off next to all the people we weren’t allowed to sue should anything go wrong. How reassuring.  I think we also had to write down our address about 15 times. I guess if something were to happen, they figured they go collect our stuff. It’s not like we had any permission to sue them at that point.  So far, I thought, I hate this ground training. Ok, final step of ground training – prepare for the actual jump. That basically consisted of squatting and learning two positions – the safety position which was us clutching our backpack straps and the superman position where we extend our arms and bend at the elbows. Then we laid on the ground and pretended to be falling.  Hmm, this is easy. Then, we waited. And waited. The names went up for the groups. About 4 hours later, our names were up! We were going to do this. I  suited up (in my awesome purple and orange astronaut suit), put on my little leather shower cap and goggles and made my way to plane. You know what I was not expecting, taking off in the plane backwards. You basically board and straddle this bench with your back towards the cockpit and zoom…backwards. My instructor tells me that I seem really calm. Really? Maybe my body is shutting down and trying to repress this entire thing. But I just say, oh, yeah, I’m ready to jump. God, I’m so extreme. He says, “Great, we’ll be the second to jump”…wait, what?

So they open the door, the first group scoots off the bench and 3, 2, 1, jump. Oh my god, that was so quick but the next thing I know, we’re making our way to the door. The videographer/photog is hanging out of the plane documenting the entire thing. Yes, he was literally hanging out of the plane. The next minute or so went something like this:

Don’t look down, don’t look down.

Oh my god, we are looking down.

JUMP.

Aghhh, we are flipping. We didn’t practice for this. Close your eyes, close your eyes. Don’t watch this.

Wait, I just paid a lot for this experience. Open your eyes. Open your eyes!

Oh god, there’s too much oxygen. I’m going to throw up.

No, don’t throw up. Look at the camera. Look at the camera.

Smile. Smile.

Why is the videographer making that signal? Am I supposed to pull the chute?  No, it’s too soon. No wait, is it time?

CHUTE PULL…BY THE INSTRUCTOR.

“I’m so sorry I forgot to pull the chute” – me to the instructor.

FLOATING.

“Welcome to my office” – the instructor to me.

FLY THROUGH A CLOUD.

FLOATING.

ANNDDDDDDDD…. LANDING.

seriously, that's me!

i did this willingly.

The entire fall lasted about 5 minutes, the first minute of which was perhaps the scariest thing I’ve ever done. But it was incredible and I’d do it again. Maybe. 

parting is such sweet sorrow

(first off  - yes, i'm still alive, i just haven't blogged in months because i'm lazy. but not because i haven't wanted to. in fact, i'm always thinking, "oh i should write that on my blog" but then i get home and sitting on my couch watching a "real housewives of new jersey" rerun just seems more appealing then typing on a computer. l-a-z-y. so my apologies...again. and it won't be the last i'm sure. ok, now to the blog.....)

so yesterday was a tragic day.

i cleaned out my closet! well, WE (my husband and i) cleaned out the closet. there, i gave him credit.

i've been dreading cleaning out the closet for months (MONTHS) but yesterday was it. didn't i just move in with my husband less than a year ago, you ask? yes, yes i did. and i purged a lot of stuff before moving in but my shameful shopping addiction had left us in quite the predicament.

after squeezing clothes into drawers and onto shelves, it was time. i mean, my clothes deserve some respect. the beautiful gems should not have to be mushed into just any old available space. they don't expect to mingle with clothes of the hideous past (i.e., my red zip up sweatshirt from 8th grade. god i was sad to let that go but ugly is ugly. or worse yet, my "dressy" gauchos. sometimes, i question my own taste. but only sometimes).

aside from hating manual labor, i think it was emotionally painful. my clothes are my little kiddies. so yes, basically, i was discarding my children yesterday (mommyhood, here i come!) and giving away even the ugly clothes was sad. but there are some things that you just don't want to get rid of...

• the fat jeans - the jeans that you wear when you put on about 5-10 lbs. also known as "i'll wear these when i'm pregnant" jeans.
• the skinny jeans - not to be confused with the trendy new "skinny jeans" these jeans are how you measure your weight (i.e., "if i fit into these, i'm officially skinny." also known as the "i can't believe i ever fit in these" jeans).
• the stinky pants - the lounge pants i wore during and post college. the ones that have a hole that i sewed up. also known as the pants my mom claimed was the reason i was single in college. they're amazingly hideous and wonderfully comfortable. and for the record, i kept them. so there.
• the jcrew sweaters - also known as the "i paid too much to just give these away but i haven't worn them in over 3 years so they really need to go" sweaters. i have too many of them to mention and really, they're from jcrew. when are they going to go out of style. but let's face it, i'm not wearing them and they're taking up room for all the other jcrew sweaters i could be buying.
• the chanel blazer - ok, if this was really a chanel blazer you'd have to rip it out of my dead, cold hands. but it's really the "i swear, this looks like a chanel boucle blazer" blazer. it's also the one i tried on for my husband who responded with "throw it out. it's kind of ugly." i guess this means i just need to buy a REAL chanel blazer.

a couple things i realized during the entire process:

1. i really need to be more discerning when i go shopping. i'm happy to say i have become more so in the past 2 years but really, i'm not sure how some of that stuff even landed in my closet to begin with. embarrassing.
2. my husband always manages to rationalize keeping that one ugly hawaiian shirt. i swear we've cleaned out the closet twice in the past year and that thing always seems to survive.
3. i don't need 25 pairs of jeans. i really don't. i dont' know how i've justified keeping them for so long. now i'm down to 7. that just seems fair.
4. i didn't like the shirt my husband wore on our first date. i learned this when he asked "remember this?" holding up the shirt and i thought he said "what do you think of this?" to which i responded "it's ugly, donate!" oops.
5. lastly, now that i have all this extra space, i could use some new clothes.

pay it forward

today, i was at a local office for a meeting. the garage, unfortunately, only accepts cash. as i pulled into the garage, i knew that at some point i was going to have to run to the bank to get some money. luckily, there's a bank about 3 blocks from the office. once i wrapped up the meeting, i finished up some notes to myself, packed up, and made my way to the bank. at this point, the sky was quickly becoming black.

sidenote: there are several things, i hate about living in dc. 1) summers are hot, muggy, and generally disgusting. it's like walking through a swamp. a 5 minute walk to the metro really feels like, a 11.5 hour wimbledon tennis match. so, isner, i don't feel for you. that's how sweaty and exhausted i feel just walking to the train. it's totally the same. trust me.

so here i am, in my 3 inch heels, walking as fast as my little barbie stilettos will allow me. and about 1 block away, as i'm standing there, waiting for the pedestrian light to grant me permission to cross the street, i feel the first trickle of rain. and from trickle, we move on into full fledged monsoon. i run. cars be damned, i am not standing on the sidewalk. i run into the bank to get the cash and am just staring out the window. how am i going to get back to my car? slowly, i find myself with a group of patrons. we're all staring out the window. we look like kids who were just told there'd be no recess. pitiful. so since, i'm stranded, i start chatting it up with the bankers.

sidenote: lately, i find that i'm starting up conversations with strangers. i take this as a clear sign that i'm aging....or turning into my father....or both (i love you dad).

ok, back to the bankers. one of them offers me an umbrella. she says, take this and bring it back whenever. i tell her, i'm just down the street a few blocks so once i pick up my car i'll drive back to return the umbrella. again, she insists, "don't worry about it. bring it back whenever". with umbrella in hand, i sit back down in the chair at the bank. umbrella or not, it's a monsoon. i'm not going out there unless you put me in a hazmat suit. it dies down a little and i decide to make a run for it. as i walk towards the door, this little old lady looks at me with puppy dog eyes. she speaks little english so when i ask her if she wants to share the umbrella with me, she says, "to car." her car was just in the bank lot so i walked here there and went on my way. i figured if the bank was nice enough to lend me an umbrella, i might as well pay it forward (and, maybe pocket a little good karma for the day). you're welcome, universe. so how does the universe repay me? i walk into an enormous puddle (lake) and now my feet are sopping. also, because i was sharing the umbrella, the entire left side of my body is soaking wet. huddling under my umbrella, trying my best to not get the laptop in my purse wet, i managed to make it safely to my car and pay the dumb garage fee.

there are a couple morals to this story - 1) always carry an umbrella, 2) do not wear open toe shoes when the forecast calls for rain, 3) always makes your husband leave you money and, finally, 4) be awesome and nice (like me).

trapped in a closet...er, dressing room

may is national shopping month. no? it's not? well regardless, i'm observing it. this past weekend, i was shopping in georgetown and at one of my favorite spots...jcrew. yes, yes, yes, i realize that the last few posts have been about this place so are you really that surprised? exactly. so anyway, i'm at the store in search of another bikini to take on my cabo trip (this weekend! actually in 2 days! i'm going to cabo!!!hooray!)....

...let me digress for one brief moment. why is that that months leading up to this trip, i'm parked at the gym, working out, sweating away. and then, in the weeks leading to the trip, my body decides that it does not want to work out AND instead it wants to consume endless amounts of food. seriously, i've never been so hungry in my life. it's borderline disgusting. basically, i'm going to look amazing in my bikinis. amazingly full.

...ok so back to jcrew. we'd made our rounds at some other stores around town and i decided to drop in to see if i could pick up one last bikini. i grab two and a sales associate asks if i want to start a fitting room. usually, my answer is no because i like to walk around with my items and mix and match with other stuff. so i'm editing along the way and don't want to give it up. but occasionally, like that day, i agree. a little while later, i make my way to the dressing rooms. only the line is insane. why do they only have 4 dressing rooms for women? does that seem very well thought out? so i see the sales associate and i say, "i think you started a room for me." and he responds, "yes,  just wait in line." ok, so what exactly is the point of starting a fitting room that isn't actually started for you? i debated waiting and finally decided against it and let him know...only to change my mind 30 seconds later and get back in line. the sales associate sees me and kindly says, "i'll pull you over to the other dressing rooms." OTHER DRESSING ROOMS? why are these people waiting in line then? oh well, see you suckers!

we head to the men's dressing rooms which are completely empty because men hate trying clothes on. while i'm in there, i hear someone knock and i say that i'm in the room and i hear a click and they move on. with one new bikini successfully found, i get dressed and ready to head to the register....and the next few minutes went something like this:

i pull on the handle and the door won't budge. i try locking and unlocking it again and pull on the handle. nothing. i think, "ok, don't panic. you're stuck in jcrew. this would normally sound awesome. just grab the cell and call your cousin. she's right outside." dial dial dial...ring...CALL FAIL. no signal. seriously? next i tried pounding on the door, which sounds pretty ridiculous, right? i mean it's not like i'm going to be screaming "LET ME OUT" yeah, see, very dumb. but no one responds. i say a little prayer and pull on the handle again. that doesn't work at all. that was a stupid idea. why would i think that would work. i sit on the bench and then i hear footsteps. someone is nearby! i yell, "I'M LOCKED IN" (yes, i actually yelled that. there i am inside the dressing room, yelling for someone to save me). the guy unlocks the door and i go running out. and, i'm totally embarrassed. and irritated (which moron locked me inside the dressing room?)

i head to the register and pay for my bikini. traumatized. scared. but ready for cabo.

maybe next time, i should just wait in line.

i've made it in life!

so this past friday, i had the day off and decided i was due for a shopping spree. yes, a shopping spree...at my same 3 stores: jcrew, anthropologie, and ann taylor. the entire time, i justified my purchases by thinking, i work really hard and if i can't have my dream job, i should at least have a dream wardrobe. granted, a dream
wardrobe would include louboutins and designer clothes but i have to start somewhere, right? and in any case, i love jcrew so who am i kidding? i'd always shop there.

while i was at jcrew, i decided that i'd sign up for a card. (it's hard to believe i don't already have one, right? well actually i did but apparently if you don't use it for 8 years, they close the account.) so when you sign up, you get a gift card for every $500 you spend. i think the gift card is only like $25 but listen, if jcrew wants to give me money, i'll take it. however, when i explained why i signed up for a card to my husband, i decided to explain the gift card as a cost savings. listen, it's math.

anyway, while i was checking out, i started chatting it up with the sales associate and somehow the conversation got into a personal shopper. next thing i know, i have a personal shopper! i know. omg, i have a personal shopper. i've finally made it in life! in that moment, i decided, if i don't have a dream job, then i should at least make the most of being able to afford shopping and having a personal shopper!(note: the personal shopper is totally free so really, i haven't made it that far in life.)

(total sidenote: i was really disappointed that i didn't win the $226m megamillions lottery last week. i really thought that i had a shot. i mean who needs that $226m more than me? oh well. sigh.)

anyway, i met my personal shopper (anthony...yeah, it's a boy) the first thing he said to me was, "oh, i recognize you." hmmm, maybe i'm there too often? i can't wait for him to email me and put clothes aside for me.  i also can't wait to be totally broke (except of course, for all that "cost savings" from my jcrew gift cards).

i will keep you posted on the treasures he finds for me (hopefully they'll be on sale!)...

wanted: dream job

do you ever have the feeling that the universe is trying to tell you something? well, the past two weeks, i've been inundated with stories of dream jobs. it all started when i was working from home. there i was sitting on my couch in my pjs, vigoursly typing away. in the background, i had the tv on mute (yes, i need the tv on mute in order to write, it's bizarre, i know). well the tv was set to a documentary on autism and this mother's quest to communicate with her child. i decided to take a break and watch part of the documentary. the story featured a woman based out of austin, who had created a therapy method that enabled communication with these kids who never spoke. to anyone. ever.  it was amazing, here is this woman, not trained at all in psychology who had created an entire method! so that got me thinking about what i'm passionate about.
so on the one hand, i love academia. i dream of being a professor. i love learning. and, after watching this documentary, i thought, i need to work in my field (psychology). i need to study autism and give back. basically, i need to find a cure for autism.

the following week, while at the gym, i picked up a magazine and one of the feature articles was about women who pursued their dream job. sigh. why didn't i do that? oh yeah, because i didn't want to be poor..not even if it's just for a year. so that article got me thinking. what would my dream job be.....

then last week, oprah was all about dream jobs! (ok, universe. i get it. dream job, dream job, dream job.) so on that episode was the executive creative director at jcrew. there she was in her cute striped boatneck top and glam sequin pants, and overpriced jcrew heels. sigh. maybe that's my dream job. because, while on the one hand, my brain is convinced i belong in academia, the other half of my brain is deeply rooted in...well, pretty things. i love finding them, buying them, wearing them. love love love. so maybe that's my dream job! next thing i knew, i was looking up personal shopper positions at bloomingdales and anthropologie (anyone want to be a client?!). and immediately following that, i went to jcrew to buy that striped bateau top and some slouch pants (even i am not glam enough for sequin pants). basically, i'm convinced that if i can't be the executive creative director of jcrew, i should definitely dress like her. and, if by some beautiful coincidence you're reading this, jenna, please hire me...and pay me a six-figure salary. pretty please?

truthfully, i don't know what my dream job is...because yes, i do want to do something meaningful and relevant but i also want to do something fun and playful. i want to wake up in the mornings and be excited to go to the office. i want the hours to fly by because i love what i do. oh and i'd like to get paid well for it. really well. as in bags and bags of money. that's perfectly reasonable right? so if you happen to come across such a position, let me know. i've always wanted to be the executive director of all things awesome.

deathplow

so a few weeks ago, i went on my first family vacation. well, first in-law vacation. a ski trip to park city, utah.

let me preface this story by saying that i did not begin skiing until i dated my husband. he grew up skiing and next to him, i look like a newborn deer learning to stand for the first time. i've taken lessons and been skiing a few times over the past 4 years, so i'm what you would call an intermediate beginner...clearly i've come a long way from my beginner beginner days (when i used to pitch my poles and pinwheel down the mountain..ok, so i still do that on occasion). i grew up "protected" from sports. my mom was worried i'd get hurt, or worse, scar my legs! instead, i grew up to wear high heels that resulted in foot surgery, which left me with a hideous scar on my toe (just goes to show you that one cannot escape destiny). before i left for the trip, my mother gave me a little advice, "honey, don't try to show off out there." right, mom, show off. that was my initial plan. but you're right, i'll decide against it.

as i mentioned, my husband grew up skiing and so did his entire family. upon arriving in salt lake, our first stop was to the ski shop...to buy me a helmet. at first, i thought, i'm not really flying down advanced runs so why is a helmet necessary? it would be like me wearing a helmet to walk around downtown. but then my sister-in-law lovingly pointed out how natasha richardson took a light tumble on a green run and DIED. soooooooooo, i bought a helmet. a children's helmet (yes, my head is that small). i was torn between the dora the explorer and ninja designs but in the end opted for my brown helmet with a ninja on the back.

ok, to the mountain.

day 1 - we start the day with the bunny hill so my body can remember what it has to do. i like to call that my french fry/pizza run (and this is why i'm only an intermediate beginner. i still use the french fry/pizza technique to describe skiing).  i warmed up and got to the greens. by the end of the day, i did one or two blues and called it a success.

day 2 - i like to refer to this day as "the day i escaped death". feeling confident, i was ready to go. i skied some greens and blues before lunch, met up with the fam for a bite to eat, and then it was time to hit the mountain. my in-laws suggested we all take a blue together. at this point, i apparently thought i was olympic material so i was like, "great idea, let's do it!" we take the lift up and i ski off the lift and then the run curves. when i go around the curve, i see that my husband and mother-in-law are stopped....AT THE EDGE OF A CLIFF. this is a blue run?! after a few minutes, the rest of the fam continued the run but there i was. staring down the mountain, certain that this run would either kill me or break every bone in my body. my husband tried to encourage me and said, "don't get scared. you can always just pizza down." ok, pizza down. ok yes, i can do that. i moved my skis ready to pizza slice them across the mountain. but in the process, they french-fried and i went flying until i managed to go into ragdoll mode and pinwheel down a few feet. that's when i went into full panic attack mode and was hyperventilating (for the record, a panic attack on a mountain is not ideal. also, i really question my fight/flight response if in the face of death, i'm going to just hyperventilate. good to know in case of a major emergency). anyway, my husband convinced me to take my skis off and try to walk down the steep portion. so i did. and that is the last time i listen to my husband. what i learned is that when you're on a steep run and you take off your skis, you go deathplowing (yes, DEATHPLOWING) down a mountain and your boots only help you gain more speed. so as i'm plowing down, i'm basically scraping along, trying to dig my fingers into the snow to slow me down or better yet stop me. i finally stopped at which point i put my skis back on and pizza'ed my way to the flatter part of the run. it took me about an 45 minutes to finish that run. i ended the day with 4 big bruises along the inside of my leg and a lifetime worth of trauma.

day 3 - it is really a surprise that i even put skis on. it was almost like i was tempting fate. but day 3 was good. i skied blues all day with a couple falls sprinkled a long the way just so god could remind me why my mother "protected" me from sports all those years. near the end of the day, i skied a blue run with my husband, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and his gf. there i am, skiing down a blue! i can't believe it. i've done great that day! as i'm reciting "left foot, right foot" over and over again (that's my alternative to french fry/pizza), i suddenly see a snowboard to my right, a few inches from my face. luckily, it misses my face but clips my wrist. in the midst of all this, i somehow managed to just calmly turn left and come to a stop. meanwhile, everyone i was skiing with just saw an out of control snowboarder pummel into me, barely missing my head (i'm still not sure how it is humanly possible to get your snowboard 5 feet off the ground). my husband comes over to see if i'm ok and i just tell him that my wrist hurts and it'll prob just bruise (oh you know, just another bruise to add to the collection i'm putting together on this trip). my brother-in-law decides to chase the snowboarder down the mountain. did i mention the snowboarder was 12?

day 4 - who will try to kill me today? as it turns out, no one. i skied greens and blues. i did a few mini moguls when i decided to follow my husband down a path between a few trees. (note to self, do not ski on paths between trees) but all in all, it was uneventful. i didn't fall. there was no hyperventilating. and no snowboarder tried to crush my skull. success!

i made it home, a little tattered and a lot bruised but able to say i skied my first blues! oh and, i'd like to thank my sister-in-law for encouraging me to buy a helmet.  best advice ever...aside obviously from my mother's wise words to not show off.