OSL!

Oxnard. Now, I will admit, the name of this place is, well, less than pretty. It doesn't roll off the tongue so much as it just stumbles and face-plants (hence the re-naming of certain things as "Mandalay" whatever). But as un-flattering as the name is, the essence of this sleepy little beach town is serenity. All it takes for me to unwind is to flip on my right turn signal and merge into the exit lane on the freeway toward Oxnard. By the time I've sailed through two intersections, I'm on vacation mode. L.A., traffic, school, stress...they've all been left behind on the 101 freeway. Even if it's just for a couple of days, my world consists only of sand, surf, sleep, snuggling (yeah, I know, I'm kind of a fan of cuddles), and Starbucks (it wouldn't be fabulous if it didn't have that, too!).

I can't count the times I've walked down to the beach (oh, right, did I mention that the house is a block from the sand?) hand-in-hand with my honey to do a surf check, climbed these dunes, and gazed out over endless blue Pacific. Whether the waves are good or not, it's still gorgeous. Sometimes the water is a somber gray, and sometimes it's a happy almost-turquoise.

I have run on this very path, Gwen Stefani in my ear, with wide-open views of the ocean on my right and a busy, family park full of green grass on my left. Does it get any better?

And then, at the end of a day of late morning lattes, outings to the dog park, and Dominoes up on the roof deck, you get sunsets like this. Seriously. Hopefully some day I'll get to call myself a true OSL.

P.S.-That's Oxnard Shores Local, for you inlanders...;)

Clear Mirrors and Sore Thumbs

January has been a big month for me. I moved out of my parents' house and I now have my very own apartment. This means that I am now solely responsible for supporting myself-paying bills, buying groceries, taking out the trash, unloading the dishwasher, and making sure I don't run out of toilet paper. HOWEVER (notice the all caps there?), this also means that I have re-discovered so many awesome things about living BY MYSELF. And I'm slightly enjoying it....ok, flippin' loving it.
I love watching whatever I want to on TV.
I love showering with the bathroom door open so the mirror doesn't get all fogged up.
I love being in control of the food that comes into my home.
I love being able to do homework alongside my boyfriend without having to be concerned about anyone else.
I love picking out my own laundry detergent and fabric softener.
I love having my treadmill in the same room as the cable tv.
I love being able to walk around stark naked if I want to.
I love not having to be considerate about telling anyone when I'll be home and if I'll be eating dinner with them.
I love burning as many scented candles as I want to.
I love coming home and getting to chill out without having to be polite to anyone.
I love banging my thumb with the hammer while trying to hang pictures by myself.
I love having a guaranteed, covered parking spot every night.

But honestly, I wouldn't have the opportunity to love all these things as joyfully as I am without parents who have supported, loved, encouraged, and taught me how to be independent. So, I have to add to that list that I love that I have wise parents who have selflessly guided me to be stable financially, emotionally, and spiritually. They're pretty dang cool, and I am one blessed girl.
So, cheers to new chapters. I'm likin' this story.

An Honor

There are some people who are seemingly very far removed from your life, yet manage to have a big impact on you. In the last year and (almost) a half, I have encountered one such lady. Now, this is one bizarre connection in the world of degrees of separation. But, rarely have I met a woman of such grace, faith, warmth, and openneess as the mother of one of my boyfriend's ex-girlfriends. In fact, my boyfriend loves this woman (Mrs. D) so much that he has stayed in touch with her since he broke up with her daughter years ago. I now fully understand why.

This past Monday, Mrs. D's husband passed away as a result of ALS/Lou Gehrig's Disease. For the entire 2 years he battled the disease, this woman took care of him, her faith in God's strength to carry them through it never wavering. Two days before Christmas, my boyfriend and I stopped by to see them, and honestly, I was nervous, because this was an ex's parents (whom I'd met only once before), and we were going to their house. Awkward. But from the moment we stepped through the door, she was nothing but gracious, inviting, and warm. How many women would so graciously welcome their daughter's ex-boyfriend and his current girlfriend into her house while her husband was, essentially, on his last few days on earth? I was floored.

Today, we went to her husband's memorial service. While sharing about their life together, this woman of God said something that had me nearly sobbing, though I hardly know this family at all. She said, "It was a privilege to fulfill my wedding vows so completely."

The "for better or for worse, in sickness and in health" parts became real in their lives, and she lived them out with honor and grace. I have spent probably a grand total of 2-3 hours in this woman's presence ever in my life, but it only takes a couple of minutes for her strength and warmth to become contagious to those around her. She and her family are much beloved, because she (and they) loves. Selflessly. I consider it an honor to know this woman even a little bit. It was definitely a "wow" kind of day.

It's fun to stay at the YMCA

Some stuff I love about my YMCA:

1. Those treadmills are some hearty, stout machines. They can take all kinds of abuse and still keep on runnin' (ha-get it?!).

2. The little old ladies that sit on the bikes for an hour and move their legs about 5 times per minute are adorable (I might add that their mouths move much faster than their legs-this is quite the social scene for them, I gather).

3. There are no tiny little bikini models in skin-tight pants with their boobs hanging out. At the YMCA, the tiny little bikini models at least have the decency to dress modestly.

4. (This should be #1, really) I can go to any YMCA with Ryan and we can have treadmill dates...so cute!

5. The weight machines are as luxurious as weight machines get.

Some stuff I don't love about my YMCA (but I think some of these might happen no matter what gym I might be in):

1. We have no audio for the TVs that are so conveniently placed above the cardio equipment. Sad.

2. The people who choose the stationary bike directly behind my running butt when every other bike (and treadmill) is wide open, bug me. Really? You really want to stare at my backside for 30 minutes or so? Wow.

3. When people "cheat" by jumping onto the side rails of the moving treadmill (instead of pausing) to take a break, fix their hair, do their nails, or whatever. The point is, those are not honest calories or distances, people! Just press "pause!" Your personal trainer would be all over you for that!

4. Um....I'm out of things I don't like. I'm now a die-hard, gym-loving girl. I love it. Try it-seriously. It's fabulous.

Put a fork in me...

As of Friday, December 18 at 1:20 p.m., I am officially on vacation. For two weeks. And instead of elation, I feel...more....shocked than anything else. This is the big one, the mid-year break every teacher lives for throughout the fall months; the re-set button that makes January-March (or April) possible for us. It's the carrot that's dangled in front of us starting on the first day of school. We work, we plan, we teach, we review, all with the promise of Christmas Break just a few months, weeks, days down the road.
Let me tell you that this year, those last few days felt like years. Even with fun Christmas-y things going on, Friday dragged its feet and dug in its heels. So when that bell rang on Friday afternoon, and the sounds of kids running for their lives away from their classrooms reached my ears, I just stood there in puzzled silence. What? It's done? Now I'm on vacation? Really? I'm not going to wake up to my alarm Monday morning and find that I still have one more week to go?
And then I stopped mid-task. The stack of copies that needed to be sorted and stapled was plopped down on my desk, my computer shut down, and I'm pretty sure that I was in my car and out of the parking lot before about half of the students in the school had even made it out of their classrooms.

Peace out, yo!

A Christmas Story

Once upon a time, there was a young girl who loved a particular Christmas movie. She could watch this Christmas movie, "All I Want for Christmas," over and over again and never get tired of it. She loved the spunky heroine, Allie, and her cool yet awkward older brother, Ethan. It was the perfect mix of comedy, romance, Santa, and New York City.

Many years later, the girl who loved this movie met a handsome prince. They began dating and he soon became her handsome prince. One day while discussing each other's past embarrassing adventures, the prince made a startling confession. When he was a young teenager, he had appeared as an extra in a movie. He and his brother had been part of a boys' choir in the opening scene of an obscure Christmas movie. But, "you wouldn't know it," he told his girl. She,however, thought it was the coolest thing the world that he had been in any movie, so she pestered him until he caved in and told her the name of the movie. For almost a whole minute after he revealed the name of the movie, she was speechless, overcome with shock and excitement. Her prince was a movie star in one of her favorite Christmas movies of all time!!!! How blessed she was to know and be the girlfriend of a star in such a wonderful, heartwarming, feel-good family Christmas film!!

And that was when she knew that it was meant to be. It could only be destiny that brought together an actor in a fantastic yet unknown Christmas movie and that movie's biggest fan. Kismet, I tell you.

And the girl and her prince lived happily ever after, she watching the movie's opening scene repeatedly, squealing all the while, and he rolling his eyes at her in mild amusement and long suffering. The End.

Who am I?

In October, I ran 13.1 miles for the first time in my life. That half marathon itself was actually a heck of a lot more fun than the 7, 8, and 10 mile training runs I had done before the race (ha, like I actually tried to be fast!). So fun, in fact, that I made a semi-impulsive buy the other day and signed up for 1/2 Marathon #2 in February.
$91 later, I'm wondering just how crazy I've become. Three years ago, I could not run for 2 minutes at a time, and now I'm paying almost a hundred bucks to go run around Huntington Beach for almost 3 hours straight (remember the "not trying to be fast" part?). To make matters worse, I sometimes get more excited about sales on workout clothes and Nikes than I do about sales on dresses, tops, and high heels. Seriously?! Whoa.
I mean, I now know things I never thought I would have any clue about. For example: running on a closed-down freeway is really flippin' cool; fruit flavored protein gels are horrific, while Power Bar raspberry flavored energy gels are to die for; wearing a water bottle strapped to your butt gets old after about half a mile; eating a big Mexican meal after running 8+ miles is actually not a good idea; and Eminem's "Lose Yourself" is one of the best motivational running songs ever, even though I am so not an Eminem fan.
Did I mention that the finishers' medal for this race is a surfboard? As a surfer's girlfriend, I have to represent, right?