Since my last post, my sister turned 29 + 1 and that brought me back to the east coast for the first time since I left. Now, I have never lived in NYC, but lots of friends (and one sister) have, and I have been there many times. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had chosen NYC like all the other VC grads, instead of Boston after college, but we will never know... So I have really been enjoying Cincinnati and not been too east-coast-homesick, but when I flew into NYC, it pulled at my heartstrings and I felt a pang of jealousy for all those people who got to stay on the coast. We toured NBC Studios and the page told us some tales about Dr. Oz and his talk show, including the swab he did of the bottom of a lady's purse that was germier than a NYC toilet and had 2 different strains of Hepatitis on it. Later that night/early the next morning I was strolling down the sidewalk and slipped on a laminated menu on the sidewalk. All I thought as my bum hit the sidewalk was, eww, I wonder if I am as a germy as the purse now. And then I was kind of ready to leave the big city and head back to my Midwestern semi-suburban life...
Christmas came and went, my brother and I sustained a well-deserved loss in the annual gingerbread house decorating contest. The Christmas craft project was successful, and the sweatshop was much more productive and efficient than in years prior. Keep an eye out for the link to the Etsy shop! We saw the house where The Christmas Story was filmed, on a street full of houses with leg lamps in the window. We had a snowball fight, and made a snow lady, and went for a lovely, if not freezing cold walk in the Metroparks.
And then I tore myself away from my home (the DSM-V is rumored to have adult separation anxiety as a diagnosis and I will proudly be first in line for that one), made the drive back to Cincinnati, slept for 3 hours, and made a 6 am flight to Albuquerque (which I have practiced spelling) to see a friend from grad school and celebrate the New Year.
I love green chiles. I have always loved green chiles. I should move to New Mexico because they have a lot of them there. We had breakfast at Frontier, famous for many things including their green chile hash browns. I literally could have eaten a bucket full of them but was trying not to appear to be a huge fatty, and because I knew I would eat well over the next few days. My friend and her boyfriend have an impeccably well stocked kitchen. She has traded out her Kitchen Aid mixer (over which we bonded when I stayed with her during grad school interviews) for a Cuisinart stand mixer, which I will forgive, but what I cannot forgive is the assertion that Thomas Keller's chocolate chip cookies are better than my Rolo Chocolate Chip Cookies. Thomas Keller should stick to French Bistro cooking and leave the lowly chocolate chip cookie to me. We had a spa day, visited the Albuquerque Costco, ate grilled pizza, went to Sante Fe, ate blue corn enchiladas at Maria's, stopped in the heroin capital of the US for a bathroom break, and arrived in Taos at twilight on New Year's Eve. My friend made me sleep in the garage. We woke up at 7.30 am to go skiing at Angel Fire. I had not been skiing since my very early 20s. I am not sporty. I worry about injury on a daily basis. I asked the ski technicians if they had a padded suit I could wear. I jokingly complained about skiing and head injuries and broken legs. One guy, who looked like he hadn't showered or slept in days, said, "Are you familiar with the power of the mind?" I said, "I am," and wondered what piece of stoner wisdom was coming my way, and he said, "It's really powerful." Why yes, sir, yes it is. I donned my helmet and rode the chair lift up, got off the lift, stood on the precipice, and skied down the mountain. And loved it.
And so, with the mountains of New Mexico as my inspiration, 2012 will be a year without complaints and fear. I will do the things I think I cannot do, I will learn from them, and I will confront the voice in my head that tells me it will be okay to put it off til tomorrow. The irony of the fact that I was supposed to take a Pure Barre class at 12 and it is 12.31 and I am typing this does not escape my notice. I will totally go to a class tomorrow.
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