Oh, hey there. Many the Miles turned into a ghost town this summer – my bad. Guess that’s a sign of an eventful summer? Or a bad blogger? TBD.
I may have abandoned my personal blog for a while, but I haven’t quit the game all together. I’ve been posting weekly over on the Nyopoly Style Blog. You should probably go check ’em out.
I have every intent of finishing those posts that have been saved in the “drafts” folder for months, back logging some summer posts and continuing to post here regularly, but that damn “life” thing keeps getting in the way. So until later…
Weekend getaways are really underrated. Getting away for even one night is sometimes all you need to feel recharged. I spent this past weekend in Old Orchard Beach with two girlfriends and it was the perfect mix of relaxation and fun. Today I’m left with a bad case of the Mondays but thankfully, it’s a short week! I’m kicking off my 4th of July weekend a little early with a quick trip to New Jersey on Wednesday for a wedding. Then it’s back up to Boston to hopefully celebrate America’s birthday right – burgers, beers and beachin’.
While summer means beach trips, patio drinking and sporting my excessive collection of sandals, it also means So You Think You Can Dance (affectionately known as SYTYCD) is back for another season. I should apologize in advance for the number of clips I’ll inevitably post through the season – but sorry, I’m not sorry.
Little kids that are amazing hip hop dancers? Right up there with elderly couples and Jacoby Ellsbury on the list of “things that make my heart melt”. Add in my boy Glitch and game over.
A few times this winter I was doubting summer would ever arrive, but at last, my favorite time of the year is finally here! If I had it my way, I’d be barefoot with my toes in the sand all summer long. Unfortunately that’s not the case, but I’m thrilled to see that summer shoe trends like chunky heels and colorful flats will keep my feet comfortable and stylish through Labor Day.
This long weekend we’ll be putting our deck to use and having friends over for a BBQ. I’m not wasting any time and getting in my first beach trip of the season on Monday.
Follow this. It’ll bring infinite joy to your Insta feed.
Marathon training fades Real fast. I ran 3 miles Friday morning and by mile 2 you would’ve thought I just finished Heartbreak Hill. Apparently you can train your ass off for 4 months and within a couple weeks you’re back to square one. Sure, within this short window my mileage has been minimal and I squeezed in a quick Vegas bender but still, the realization I’m not invincible and can no longer run 18 miles like it ain’t no thang is rather upsetting.
Buy and use this daily. The main reason I get regular manis is to keep my dry, cracked cuticles in check. I’ve used this for a few days and it’s already helped SO much. Something that could’ve been brought to my attention before I dropped thousands paying a salon to do what I can now easily do, while in traffic.
Jay-Z and Beyonce aren’t the definition of perfection. After last week’s elevator scandal, all I’ve heard/read about is “Oh yeah, I saw this coming,” “Everyone knows they’ve always cheated on each other,” “They get in blow out fights all the time,” etc., etc. Ummm, what – why did no one tell me? Am I the only one with rose colored glasses on that thinks they’re the ultimate couple that can do no wrong? Giving fair warning, the end of Jay and Bey may be harder for me to cope with than Justin and Britney. My only ask is they at least stick it out through this summer’s tour – those tix weren’t cheap.
Wrap the top of your bananas in plastic wrap to keep them from spoiling. I’m not sure who discovered these keep-your-food-fresh tricks but thank you.
You don’t always get a parking ticket when you park illegally. Twice last week I parked in illegal spots and came out expecting to see that bright orange envelope on my windshield and found nothing. I used to be the person that would drive around for an hour looking for a legal spot to avoid getting a ticket, but those days might be over. Parking ticket roulette reminds me of the rush I used to get going to bars with my fake ID in college. Sometimes you get away with it and sometimes you get your ID passed around between bartenders laughing at the horrendous quality but still served scorpion bowls all night long… or just have to pay the city $25.
This weekend was filled with a girl’s night out (to celebrate my friend’s recent engagement!!), shopping trip to the outlets, friend’s cookout and first fro-yo of the season. All pointing to the fact that summer is officially almost here!
Last summer I was hooked on fiction. I breezed through Gone Girl, Where’d You Go, Bernadette?, and The Fault in Our Stars. Coincidentally, they’re all being turned into films this year. My 2014 summer reading list happens to be all nonfiction – most of which chronicle the stories of some bad-ass women:
The book starts with the story of Malala, a 15 year old schoolgirl being shot in the head by the Taliban. She survives and goes on to become a global advocate for education and the youngest nominee ever for the Nobel Peace Prize. Needless to say, it has sucked me in pretty quickly..
I read an article in Glamour about Sophia’s inspiring rags to riches story and it left me wanting more. While my shoe closet may say differently, she’s makes a good case for why “money looks better in your bank account than on your feet.”
Two of my friends and colleagues went to see Arianna speak at an event recently in Boston and came back giddy with her words of wisdom. Some of the takeaways they shared with me that resonated most are “the way the world defines success is unsustainable,” “the more you can be in the moment, the more effective you can be,” and “renewing and recharging doesn’t mean not working hard or not being passionate.”
I’ve heard it equated to the runner’s Bible so I mean, I have to check it out.
I made this playlist for last weekend’s girls trip to Vegas. Now that I’m back home with a bad case of post-vaca blues, I find myself playing these songs on repeat, daydreaming of our pool party days and club-hopping nights. A mix of country and hip hop, they’re all perfect “windows down, care-free cruising” jams. Especially now that (fingers crossed) the warmer weather is here to stay!
Needless to say, the 9 of us (4 girlfriends from high school and 4 from college) had an absolute BLAST and we’re already planning next year’s destination…
We’re 10 days out. The intense training is over. I’ve hit my fundraising goal (and then some – thank you friends and fam!). And sometimes it still feels surreal – that I can and will run the 2014 Boston Marathon.
With the anniversary of last year’s bombing next Tuesday, the city is reminded of the horrible tragedy, but also of the strength, pride and love that has overcome within the past year. It has been in the news more frequently the past few weeks and many inspirational videos have gone viral. These are two of the best I’ve seen (and watched over and over):
I’ve always been a sucker for montages. Something about a set of powerful images, words and video clips set to the perfect song gets to me. These in particular help fuel the excitement/nervousness/gratitude I have about running this year. And also make me wonder if I’ll be able to run a single mile without sobbing. TBD.
I found this quote from Katherine Switzer to ring true about any marathon, but will resonate even more so this Marathon Monday. Putting aside the incredible athletic achievement accomplished by people from all walks of life, the thing that inspires me the most is the stories behind why runners run. And the complete strangers supporting them with cheers, water, snacks – and even kisses at Wellesley College 🙂
I got a new car last week. A grown up, sensible car with more features than I could ever begin to know how to use. I traded in my flashy sporty, candy apple red coupe with my faded college sticker on the back windshield and burned CD’s dating back to 2005 in the CD changer. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE my new car and have been finding any excuse to drive it around town. But I have to admit, driving Coop (it’s a coupe, so I named him Coop – creative, huh?) for the last time on the way to the dealership, made me really sad.
I couldn’t help but think about all we’d been through together over the past 5 years:
I got Coop after winning the argument with my parents that since they were saving money by having me live at home for a semester, I deserved a new car. The two-tone, ghetto-fabulous Camry I’d been cruising around in since I got my license was downright unacceptable to be seen in the parking lot of my corporate internship.
I then abandoned him in my parent’s driveway while I set off to study abroad in New Zealand, Australia and Fiji for 6 months.
We went on weekend road trips to visit friends at UMass, UConn and Roger Williams – all resulting in miserably hungover rides home.
I hung my university tassle around Coop’s rear-view after graduation, and kept it there for way too long, unwilling to accept college was behind me.
Summer after summer, we cruised (or sat in stand still traffic), windows down, over the Bourne and Sagamore bridges for weekend Cape trips.
I mended my broken heart in Coop, blasting and singing along to emo John Mayer and Dashboard Confessional songs on long night drives.
He was with me on every heinously long commute to and from my first job post-college. And provided a private place to conduct phone interviews during my lunch breaks when I could no longer stand said job.
He was towed on multiple occasions because the parking rules in our neighborhood corresponded with the BC Football schedule (no, but really) and while I enjoyed a few tailgates, I clearly couldn’t be bothered to monitor the Eagles’ schedule on a weekly basis. Until my roommates and I stole parking spots from our next door neighbors, after which, he always had a premium reserved spot.
Regardless of the season, he almost always held an unsweetened venti iced green tea in the cup holder, a pair of flip flops in the back seat and at least 2 beach chairs in the trunk.
He got me to and from softball games where I met the love of my life. Then spent nights parked outside his apartment and the last 9 months outside the apartment we now live in together.
Thanks for the memories – you’ll be missed my sweet Coop. Now to figure out how to work this newfangled Batmobile. Not off to the best start considering I left the headlights on overnight and had to get jumped within the first week. Oops…
On a semi-related note, now that I’ve made it clear I have a hard time letting go of things, I have to share how my memory hoarding tendencies have finally paid off. For those of you who have an entire box of t-shirts that you never wear but can’t bear to give away stored in your parent’s attic labeled “MY MEMORIES – DO NOT THROW OUT” (everyone has that, right?) – allow me to introduce Project RePat. You ship said tees off in a bag that they send you and three weeks later you receive an amazing t-shirt quilt! It’s that easy. I’m obsessed. I now spend my nights snuggled up on the couch draped in not just any old fleece blanket but in 1×1 fabric squares of nostalgia.