Tag: ramblin randol

If You Feel Like a Mess on a Rock in Space… Same

This isn’t advice. It’s just me being honest, in case you need it too.

The last thing the internet needs is another expert. 

So, I solemnly swear to never tell you what you should be doing. Nothing grinds my gears more than others trying to tell me “exactly” what I should be doing in order to achieve x,y, and z. 

Because here’s the thing–the older I get the more I realize I don’t know shit. The moment it feels figured out, something changes and I’m back at square one. And honestly? Love that for us, it keeps us honest. (Except for the ones selling you that magic elixir.)

What I do know is how much I appreciated people being authentic and real with me about their truths. I learned the most from others sharing their own personal experiences. It helped process my own and I’d like to return the favor. Sharing what I’ve learned in hopes it helps you feel less crazy, less alone or less stressed about where you’re at.

Because if you feel like a mess on a rock floating through space, girl same. What even is my purpose here?

Hi friends, I’m trying hand over at Substack for a little while.

(I couldn’t keep sharing posts about silence and rejection from pitching, haha. And for some reason, opening WordPress feels like a drag. Not sure if it’s because at one time I had this popping and now it’s crickets or what but I’m trying to unblock the mental block.)

SO, if you wanna read the rest of the post above and learn more about the book that made me reconsider therapy, head on over to my Substack 🙂

ps: thanks for reading ❤

An Oops & a New Recipe Try

No “thanks but no thanks and good luck” emails have been sent to my inbox this past week. So, there’s still a chance one of them is still considering to work with me.

Time slipped past me last week and I didn’t get a chance to submit. It wasn’t until my drive home from aerial class Wednesday night that it dawned on me. Thursdays are my shit day so I shot for Friday to figure it out. Then Friday turned into a cluster-fack and here we are on Monday.

I’d like to say I’ll submit to two agents this week but I fear with this time change, one will be a victory. Despite going to bed early, I still woke up 20 minutes before needing to log into work. Starting my day in a rush/behind is not how I like to begin the week. It feels like I’ll trip into each task that needs to be complete. Hate, hate, hate.

In order to get back on track I wrote out a to-do list for the week. Maybe checking stuff off it will help get me back on track. First thing first? Write blog and then search for this week’s literary agent. After? Brush teeth and wash face.

Something fun I accomplished this weekend was finally testing out a new recipe that’s been sitting in my “to-be-cooked” binder. It’s a baby blue binder I’ve had since maybe high school and it’s filled with torn magazine pages of recipes I want to try. This weekend, I tackled the Furikake-Ranch Snack Mix. It was freaking delicious.

The recipe is down below. My pointer? really make sure you mix it well. I thought giving it a few toss tosses would be sufficient but you really want to make sure the syrup is well distributed so most pieces of the snack mix get covered. Otherwise, it’s easy-peasy. If you try it, let me know if you dig it.

(I can’t tell you wrote the recipe because a name is not mentioned or which magazine it came from for sure, but I’m pretty sure it was featured in last summer’s Bon Appetit)

“Furikake Chex Mix, a popular fixture in Hawaii, meets another American favorite: each seasoning. Like all good snack mixes, this one is open to swaps and modifications. Can’t find Bugles? Try Oyster crackers! Prefer it spicy? Add a hot sauce to the syrup. This recipe feeds a crowd but can be halved easily. “

Mix can be made 2 weeks ahead. Store in airtight container and at room temperature.

  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
  • 1/3 cup light corn syrup
  • 1/4 cup sugar
  • 1/4 cup vegetable oil
  • 1 Tbsp. soy sauce
  • 1 1-oz packet ranch seasoning
  • 10 cups rice and/or corn cereal (Chex, Crispix)
  • 3 cups Bugles (or oyster crackers)
  • 2 cups mini windowpane pretzels
  • 2 cups Goldfish crackers
  • 1 cup salted & roasted peanuts
  • 1 1.7-oz bottle nori Komi furikake
  1. Place racks in upper and lower thirds of oven, preheat to 250.
  2. Heat butter, corn syrup, sugar, oil, soy sauce, and ranch seasoning in small saucepan, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat.
  3. Mix cereal, Bugles, pretzels, crackers, and peanuts in large bowl, working from bottom to top.
  4. Wearing gloves, carefully, pour butter mixture into bowl, mixing from bottom to top to incorporate. Sprinkle half Furikake over and toss evenly. Sprinkle remaining Furikake and toss again to coat.
  5. Divide mixture onto two baking sheets and bake. Tossing mixture every 15-20 minutes and rotating pans back to front and top to bottom halfway through, until dry (about an hour). A humid day may require an extra 15 – 30 minutes. Let snack cool before serving.

Next time I’m adding hot sauce.

Have a great week, friends. I hope something good happens to you. ❤

How Do You Stay True To Your Roots?

My biggest fear is one day I’ll wake up and won’t recognize the face looking back at me in the mirror. I worry I’ll get wrapped up in materialistic values and forget my humble beginnings.

Well-fed cornfields, dairy farms, and long country roads paint my earliest memories. The seclusion allowed freedom to shoot off model rockets with Dad and build bonfires in the backyard. Mom taught us how to build castles with books and how to use the floor vents to make sheet forts when the furnace kicked on.

Happiness never related to possessions, and it wasn’t until much later I realized my family’s resourcefulness wasn’t out of creativity but necessity. Growing up with less (and helping to carry my parent’s adult problems at a young age) made me grind for success.

A common phrase in my house growing up was “figure it out on your own,” so I put my nose to the grindstone and worked full-time while attending (and paying) my way through college. It took me almost eight years to finally get my Bachelor’s. I could only do so many college credits at a time because unlike most of my classmates, I also held the responsibility of living on my own with no financial backing.

This ambition to never quit and continue to strive for better is what landed me here, out of the restaurant industry with a job that pays well and has “regular” (off on holidays and a routine 9 to 5 schedule), located in sunny Orange County, California.

Now, when I wake up in the morning I have choices of what I want for breakfast and drive on a freeway that’s frequently littered with million dollar homes and exotic supercars, not a cornfield in sight.

Jlo speaks about this in her song, Jenny From The Block. “Don’t be fooled with the rock’s that I’ve got, I’m still, I’m still Jenny from the block. Used to have a little now I have a lot. I’ll always know where I come from (the Bronx!).

Most of us haven’t gone from a private person to a public person making millions but we’ve all experienced some form of reckoning that’s forced us to reconcile with what once was compared to what is.

Living in Orange County I’ve seen what an excess of privilege does to a person. I fear eventually I’ll get used to this good life (affording Brie, aerial classes, and financial freedom my parents never had) and forget where I came from and the values that got me here.

Now, this might sound crazy because I’m not Jlo going from nothing to holy-shit-something…

…but for those of you who have dug themselves out of the deep pits to successfully changing your own stars, know what I’m talking about. This abrupt, yet painfully slow transition from past to present is internally conflicting. And man, can we talk about the guilt for a damn second?

There are some days I have a really hard time digesting how much money I spend now compared to ten years ago. A little rotten voice in the back of my head constantly questions is what I’m buying sensible and how I should be saving it instead.

The truth is I’m not spending money on frivolous items, it’s being invested in my physical and mental well being, which is a tough concept to digest. Also, how come it feels so strange to invest in me? Ugh, a blog post for another day. 

So how do you make sure you don’t forget your roots?

There’s an old saying about acknowledging your path to success and the author from Bodhi Tree writes…

“There is no way to grow and strengthen if you are walking on flat ground. You have to climb. You have to fall and claw your way back up again, and when you emerge covered in dirt, sweat and smiles, it’s beautiful! It’s worth it. If you rub away the climb and the fall, you rub away the story itself.”

Basically? It’s practicing gratitude and honoring your struggle. Acknowledging a fear means you’re aware and won’t let ‘it’ happen because you’re not living with your head in a hole.

ps: I had an afterthought aha moment…what if staying true to your roots is just remembering your past, and bringing its best lessons and values with you everywhere you continue to go and grow? It’s not about reconciling, but an important piece of staying grounded. 

Everything you have ever wanted, is sitting on the other side of fear. (16).png

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Proof It Changed My Trajectory

As I often tell teachers–some of our most important leaders–we can’t always ask our students to take off the armor at home, or even on their way to school, because their emotional and physical safety may require self-protection. But what we can do, and what we are ethically called to do, is create a space in our schools and classrooms where all students can walk in and, for that day or hour, take off the crushing weight of their armor, hang it on a rack, and open their heart to truly being seen. 

We must be guardians of a space that allows students to breathe and be curious and explore the world and be who they are without suffocation. They deserve one place where they can rumble with vulnerability and their hearts can exhale. And what I know from the research is that we should never underestimate the benefit to a child of having a place to belong–even one–where they can take off their armor. It can and often does change the trajectory of their life. 

– Brene Brown, Dare To Lead

I am proof a safe place changed the trajectory of my life. 

You know that saying, “being welcomed with open arms,” I don’t remember a feeling a sense of welcomeness or openness when I was younger. “Constantly on edge,” is more accurate.

It didn’t feel like I had space to breathe. There was a suffocating pressure to be the best and it left no room for error.

When I think back to where I felt safest as a young adult my Highschool band room pops to the front of mind. I knew who I was in that room and Mr. Ponder was a calm dude who didn’t lead with guilt or shame. He genuinely cared for his students and never picked me apart, or anyone else for that matter.

Unfortunately, the band room wasn’t a day in and day out constant. It took twenty-seven years for me to find my safe place and another two years to trust it. I fought the ‘safe feeling’ because my mind and body didn’t know how to respond, and the two who were creating it for me weren’t the people who I thought should be the ones doing it.

Can I trust this soft place to land when it’s being given to me by my bosses? They’re not obligated by blood or marriage, is this how it should be, is this allowed? ps: I get hung up on shoulds and rules. #workingonit

If you’re like me, you need an example of this soft place to land because it didn’t compute in my head for a long time, so here we go:

My first “oh-shit-I-fucked-up-big” moment came about six or seven months into the new job. I was designing an e-blast for The Knot and spent a full week designing and editing content to create the best call to action, possible. Somehow I didn’t notice until after the email went out I had embedded the wrong link and was sending thousands of people to an incorrect event page.

I almost barfed. The word mortified doesn’t cut it. I quickly edited the page the users were being sent to, to represent the event we were advertising for but it took an hour to correct. Accountability is huge in my book so I prepared myself for a tongue lashing and the possibility I’d get fired.

Ya know what I got? “These things happen, you’re human.” If your mouth is gaping open and touching the floor, #twins. I didn’t know what to do or say, all I remember was feeling uncomfortable and wishing she had shouted at me instead. Wtf am I supposed to do with…kindness and understanding?

And fuck, just had another aha-moment. I’d rather be shouted at? In what world does that make sense. I’ve been following a pattern unbeknown to me until this very flippin’ second. Ready for this? Big breaths…

I’ve been striving for perfection and ultimately falling short, which would lead me to fess up to the ‘leaders’ in my life (bosses/parents) and their response was a consistent shouting and/or belittlement before being ‘allowed’ to move on until the next time it happened, and then the same pattern would occur.

Eventually, I didn’t feel better until someone had followed through on their part. And because I thought this was healthy behavior I’m guilty of shouting to release frustration. How sick am I for thinking it was therapeutic? #workingonit #therapyisawesome

This kind of openness to welcome me as is set the foundation for a soft place to land. Maybe some of you reading are thinking, “no, this is an example of your bosses being lenient.” Tell me what good comes from making a person feel smaller? Do you work harder for those type of leaders?

It wasn’t one instance, either. It’s been a compilation of little moments where it would’ve been easy to criticize or put me down and they choose not too. Instead, they reminded me I was enough and worth it. Constantly filling me up with feeling enough and worth it.

This new space encouraged me to read self-empowerment books, get into therapy, deal with traumas I’d buried, and shed a layer of crushing armor. It felt hippy-dippy at first and not for people ‘like me.’

But guess what? My spirit feels lighter, my life feels happier, and I appreciate my relationship with my Hubs ten times more than I did before. My head comes up for air more frequently instead of keeping my nose on the grindstone.

It changed the trajectory of my life. I’m proof.

Ferris bueller quote

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Poppy’s Creme Brûlée

Did you read today’s Taste Test recipe and tense up a little bit? I wonder why it’s made out to be such a difficult dessert to try, maybe it’s the fancy top hat above the ‘u’ that makes it seem way to fancy to try? Let me tell you, I’d rather make Creme Brûlée any day over that damn bread that gave me bruises!

I got this recipe from my Dad (aka Poppy). He made it on Paint maybe a decade ago and emailed it to me. I kid you not, he made it for me on Paint and it is carefully preserved in my cooking binder between two plastic sheets.

But first, let’s recap in case you don’t know my rules…

I’m not a food blogger. I share recipes I’ve tried and if I’d make them again. I hate the word foodie and hefty paragraphs filled with adjectives about the recipe, and photographs that have dusted flour and cutting boards.

You can expect the recipe I used, helpful tricks or what not to do and a couple (probably one) real shots of what it looked like when my bake came out of the oven.

The Recipe:

4 Tablespoons granulated sugar

2 1/2 cups heavy cream

6 egg yolks

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

What you need:

Mixing bowl, wire whip, ramekins, pyrex oven pan, heavy bottom saucepan, thermometer, torch spark, and wire sift.

  1. Gather supplies/ingredients. Get some water boiling and heat oven to 350 degrees.
  2. Heat 2 1/2 cups heavy cream in a heavy bottom saucepan until it reaches 175 – 180 degrees and remove from heat.
  3. Meanwhile place 6 egg yolks, 4 Tablespoons sugar, and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla in mixing bowl and whisk until frothy.
  4. Remove 1/4 cup of the hot heavy cream and slowly pour into egg mix while whipping vigorously to temper egg mix. Repeat with another 1/4 cup.
  5. Slowly pour entire tempered egg mix into heavy cream while whipping with might. Scrape bowl well with rubber spatula.
  6. The mixture will be frothy on top. Use a skimmer to remove the froth. Be sure to let liquids pass through simmer back into mix before dumping froth. Repeat until very little froth is left.
  7. Place 4 ramekins into your baking pan and fill pan with water until the water reaches halfway up ramekins. Pour approximately 2/3 cup of mix into each ramekin.
  8. Bake in over for 20 – 25 minutes. When sides are firm but the center is slightly jiggly the custard is done. Remove from oven and leave in water pan for 10 minutes. Place in fridge and chill for about 4 hours.

To Serve:

  • Sprinkle 2 teaspoon of sugar over top of the Brulee and lightly shake the ramekin back and forth to get an even coat.
  • Brown sugar with a torch. The tip of the flame that is yellow is the hottest part. Sugar should meet flame at top of the yellow tip. Use a right to left back and forth motion starting at the top and work your way down as sugar carmelizes.
  • Note: I like to serve it with a whipped cream rose and strawberry fan on the side or on a plate with a spoon. You can also serve whipped cream on top of Brulee wit
  • h a sprinkle of raspberries, too.

My Findings:

  1. Do not dump all of the hot heavy cream into the egg mixture, it will curdle the eggs. You need to have patience and not rush the tempering.
  2. If you don’t have a small wire sift to skim the top, use a spoon and carefully de-froth the top.
  3. The boiling water is for the water surrounding the ramekins before it enters the oven. I think the boiling water help keep it at an even temp. in the oven and it takes longer to bake if you don’t use heated water, don’t quote me but that sounds right.

Would I Make It Again?

Hell yes. It’s easier than it looks (and sounds). I remember being so nervous I was going to fuck up the tempering I was SUPER and ridiculously slow at it. I never thought the mixtures would ever be melded as one…so find a happy medium, you don’t have to be a psycho like I was the first go around and you can’t dump half or all of it in one or two shots.

Have you ever tried to make Creme Brûlée? How’d it turn out? Tell me in the comments.

Creme Brûlée quotes or sayings

Come be my friend on Instagram. I’m hilarious.
This is my Dad’s recipe that he wrote up on Paint for me some 10 years ago. I have no idea where it came from or if it has his own tweaks.

 

 

My First Trip To The Upper Left

A city built on top of a city surrounded by water and formerly known as the Queen City of the Pacific Northwest and the Gateway to Alaska is where I spent a long weekend last week.

Seattle was wicked cool, and worth the agonizing plane ride…kinda. The weather was gorgeous, sun shining for half the day and a cool haze for the remainder. It sprinkled a few times and I saw snow while hiking up Mt. Tiger!

On Friday I hiked it up to Kerry Park for one of the best views of the cityscape, ate BBQ inside the armory at the Seattle Center, walked through Sculpture Park, and finished the evening with a drink and an old friend at The Edgewater Hotel that has a view like no other. Sit in the lobby and order a drink during happy hour, you won’t be sorry.

Kerry Park, Seattle
Kerry Park

Saturday started at Pike Place Market with rows of fresh flowers, cheese churning across the street at Beechers and the longest Starbucks line you’ll ever see for convenient coffee.   The afternoon was filled with a hidden lighthouse and a bike ride down the boardwalk at Alki Beach with another spectacular view of the cityscape and futuristic Space Needle.

Alki Beach
Alki Beach

I got an early start on the day Sunday with a long hike up Mt. Tiger with the same old friend and her husband. But first, we made a pitstop at Caffe Ladro and got one of the best damn cups of coffee, ever. I went for round two on Monday morning, too.

Mt. Tiger, Seattle
Mt. Tiger

After the mountain whooped our asses (literally) and we refueled at a local Mediterranean eatery, they dropped me off at my hotel and I wandered down to Pioneer Square where I hopped on Bill Speidel’s Underground Tour. It came recommended and I too highly recommend it if you find yourself in Seattle.

Seattle is a city built on top of a city because of a massive fire and unstable (very wet) ground. This tour takes you down to the basement of Seattle where you can walk the old roads and learn the city’s history, like how The Emerald City was actually built by a woman and her…”seamstress” business.

I ate dinner at Petite Toulouse and got the spicy shrimp, homemade andouille and crawfish onto cheesy grits. The beignets are not like the ones you find in NOLA but they are at least the right shape. Also, STOP serving them with coffee sauce. I need raspberry!

Monday morning started the same way, at Caffe Ladro with The Perfect Bar for breakfast. After a semi-lazy morning, I hit up MoPop and got lost in its Prince, Fantasy, and Horror Fiction exhibits. Two hours later it was time to head back to the hotel and call an Uber to the airport.

The greenery and fresh air were exactly what I needed and I’m looking forward to more adventures this year. When I go back to Seattle, what should I check out next?

Everything you have ever wanted, is sitting on the other side of fear. (10).png

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Taste Testing Mary Berry’s Victoria Sandwich​

Has anyone tried making any of the recipes I’ve shared, yet? Share it in the comment section below so I can see what everyone else is up to on the other side of this screen 😉

Today’s taste test involves another great recipe found by watching The Great British Baking Show (thanks Netflix! I was late to the GBBO craze) and it’s Mary Berry’s Victoria Sandwich recipe.

Luckily, converting this one was MUCH easier than the Povitica recipe I shared a few weeks ago due to the fact she has the ounces next to the grams and my measuring cup has the ounces listed, haha. The odds are more in your favor here.

But first, let’s recap in case you don’t know my rules…

I’m not a food blogger. I share recipes I’ve tried and if I’d make them again. The word foodie and hefty paragraphs filled with adjectives about the recipe annoy me. Oh, and photographs that have dusted flour and cutting boards.

You can expect the recipe I used, helpful tricks or what not to do and a couple (probably one) real shots of what it looked like when my bake came out of the oven.

The Recipe:

For the sponge

4 large free-range eggs

225g (8oz) caster sugar, plus extra for sprinkling

225g (8oz) self-raising flour

1 level tsp baking powder

225g (8oz) unsalted butter, softened, plus extra for greasing

For the jam

200g (7oz) raspberries

250g (9oz) jam sugar

For the buttercream

100g/3½oz unsalted butter, softened

200g/7oz icing sugar sifted

2 tbsp milk

Directions

  1. Preheat the oven to 350F. Grease and line two 8in sandwich tins: use a piece of baking or silicone paper to rub a little baking spread or butter around the inside of the tins until the sides and base are lightly coated. Line the bottom of the tins with a circle of baking paper.
  2. Break the eggs into a large mixing bowl, add the sugar, flour, baking powder and soft butter. Mix everything together until well combined. Be careful not to over-mix – as soon as everything is blended you should stop. The finished mixture should be of a soft ‘dropping’ consistency.
  3. Divide the mixture evenly between the tins. Use a spatula to remove all of the mixture from the bowl and gently smooth the surface of the cakes.
  4. Place the tins on the middle shelf of the oven and bake for 25 minutes. Don’t be tempted to open the door while they’re cooking, but after 20 minutes do look through the door to check them.
  5. While the cakes are cooking, make the jam. Put the raspberries in a small deep-sided saucepan and crush them with a masher. Add the sugar and bring to the boil over a low heat until the sugar has melted. Increase the heat and boil for 4 minutes. Remove from the heat and carefully pour into a shallow container. Leave to cool and set.
  6. The cakes are done when they’re golden-brown and coming away from the edge of the tins. Press them gently to check – they should be springy to the touch. Remove them from the oven and set aside to cool in the tins for 5 minutes. Then run a palette or rounded butter knife around the inside edge of the tin and carefully turn the cakes out onto a cooling rack.
  7. To take your cakes out of the tins without leaving a wire rack mark on the top, put the clean tea towel over the tin, put your hand onto the tea towel and turn the tin upside-down. The cake should come out onto your hand and the tea towel – then you can turn it from your hand onto the wire rack. Set aside to cool completely.
  8. For the buttercream, beat the butter in a large bowl until soft. Add half of the icing sugar and beat until smooth. Add the remaining icing sugar and one tablespoon of the milk and beat the mixture until creamy and smooth. Add the remaining tablespoon of milk if the buttercream is too thick. Spoon the buttercream into a piping bag fitted with a plain nozzle.
  9. To assemble, choose the sponge with the best top, then put the other cake top-down on to a serving plate. Spread with the jam then pipe the buttercream on top of the jam. Place the other sponge on top (top uppermost) and sprinkle with caster sugar to serve.

My Findings:

  • I had never made jam before and was super worried about it ‘setting’ so I picked up some pectin just in case and added a sprinkling of it to my mixture. I also added the sugar scoop by scoop because I wanted to control the sweetness. I ended up using a little over a half cup of sugar.
  • My piping bag was a Ziploc baggy with the corner cut off. Now, this works in a pinch but it did not give me the freedom to make those beautiful pillow clouds of buttercream you see pictured on Mary Berry’s bake.
  • Nothing with homemade buttercream is going to be awful.

Would I Make It Again?

YES. It was super simple and flipping DELICIOUS. The proper storage will keep the sponge fresh for days! I use an oversized container with a locking lid as a makeshift cake holder/saver.

eating cake quote

Come be my friend on Instagram. I’m hilarious.
Originally recipe found, here.

5 Minutes of Kindness Goes A Long Way

All week on Instagram my topic has been centered around the importance of finding confidence and feeling powerful as women. Today’s post was going to be based around the same topic, but then I went to a conference in San Diego and something wonderful happened…

ps: I love San Diego. Every year, right around this time, I attend a marketing conference where I get to be a nobody in a sea of people, learning new tricks of my trade and it’s my absolute favorite. When I turn the corner from Kettner to get onto Harbor and see the two ginormous Hyatt skyscrapers, I feel home. I don’t take this for granted.

On the trek to my hotel I bustled past a number of homeless. The sun had gone down so the temp was dipping into the low 50s and I couldn’t help but feel extremely privileged (then a little guilty) as I scurried past them with a full stomach, a bag full of clothes, and on my way to a hotel where a big warm bed (that I didn’t have to share with my husband) was waiting for me.

The next morning I still felt this pull inside my heart to do something for those I’d be walking past that morning who were packing up their sleeping bag. All of a sudden I remembered I had a leftover snack pack from the train ride in the night before and decided this small thing might be capable of making someone else’s day that much sweeter, so I grabbed it as I walked out my room and spent the elevator ride pumping myself up to not chicken out.

For those of you who don’t know, I do an annual fundraiser every year in November for homeless youth. I spend one night out on the street in front of Covenant House California so that another kid doesn’t have to. This is my passion, but I’m human and learned Stranger Danger so it’s still a little nerve wracking because you’re not a fortune teller and won’t be able to know how your good intentions will be received.

As the elevator doors opened my game plan was solid. I would walk my route and the first person who looked at me, said good morning, or smiled at me (basically letting them make the first move, sorta), I would ask, “do you need some food? I have some extra.”

Having a plan and what I’m going to say makes me feel solid. So off I went and it didn’t take more than 50 feet for me to give away my snack pack.

He was an older gentleman digging through a trash can, possibly for recyclables, possibly for food, and he was next to the crosswalk I needed to get across Harbor, and I think when I didn’t walk around him to avoid him, he looked up at me and said, “good morning.”

I told him good morning, and asked him if he needed food. All he could muster was shaking his head. He didn’t reach out his hand until he saw I was indeed handing him the box. After he grabbed it I told him I hope he had a good day and I was off. The whole scenario was less than 5-minutes.

By no means did I do anything to make his day better. A snack pack from the train isn’t going to end world hunger, but I’m hoping I made his morning a little brighter and it took absolutely nothing from me to do it (besides the balls).

I put the whole exchange on my stories and fought back tears while telling it. There is something about the look he gave me when I asked him if he needed food that tipped my emotions overboard. So I decided the next two morning I’d be doing the same thing.

After the keynote speaker on Monday night I went to the gym to run and work off some of the pent up energy I had after sitting all day. When I was finished and looking for some water, I noticed a bowl of apples…

Yes, I pulled a Ross and took a handful of apples knowing I’d be giving them away the next morning. Earlier that afternoon I had also stocked piled a cup of nuts from the conference with the same intention.

Tuesday morning I walked out from my hotel with a ziplock baggy filled with two apples and a coffee cup filled of dry nuts. I gave it to a man who was brushing his hair and when I asked him if he needed some extra food, he paused.

“Of course, yes! Yes, yes! Sorry, I don’t know where my head was there, I was off thinking about something else and wasn’t expecting…yes, yes, I would love some food, thanks.”

Day Three: I raided the gym bowl of apples again from my run the night before, had another cup of nuts, and two Kashi bars I had grabbed from home as my “just in case” snacks during the conference.

An older man who had said good morning to me got one of the apples and then asked me where I was from, I told him originally from Buffalo, and he said, “okay thanks, have a good day.”

I was saving the majority of my hoard for a family who popped up the night before, a man, woman, and two small children. They didn’t acknowledge me, I said good morning and the gentleman jumped a little like he was caught off guard.

“Do you need some food?”

Nobody deserves to be hungry. We all fall on hard times, some of them are harder than others. There is plenty of food in this world to go around and I think we ought to start sharing it.

A 5-minute gesture of kindness could change the world if done once, twice, or three times a week. You never know.

Stay kind my friends. Happy Thursday!

RAK it quote

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Blank Stare & Nod

My brain has been fried hard and served up on a stale piece of toast. The last five months have a re-reoccurring theme; lack of control and this constant wake up call has flared up my anxiety about an upcoming girl’s trip to Seattle. Is the universe teaching me to let go of control so that when my plane goes down at the end of March, I’ll be at peace? Anxiety is a bitch.

If I had to sum up the last four-ish/five months it would be placed in a folder labeled, Are You Fucking Kidding Me! The short of it is multiple car accidents, one less car, Hubs out of work for 7-weeks due to injury from said accident which equals limited dough, to family turmoil, some more family turmoil, and if I continue it would no longer be “the short of it.”

Point being, I’m going through some shit and it’s been hard to stay positive, which is super relatable because we’ve all been there, feeling like someone took out our brains and scrambled them up while we watched with no idea how to take the spatula away.

And because I have anxiety and panic attacks, what do I do? Think, think, and think some more, because that’s what I can control and what feels ‘routine’ for my brain to do. And of course, it’s not the healthy thinking it’s the let’s think about the worst possible scenario and keep thinking about the worst that can happen until I can feel it tightening my chest and wah-lah, panic!

The upside? I’m still here, practicing gratitude and trying my best. This is what matters. I am trying my best.

How do I combat my anxiety and panic? What has worked for me is taking deep breaths and focusing on each inhale and exhale, when I was younger I used to count them but now the simple in and out of breath calms me.

Why don’t I get a prescription? Addiction runs in my family, both with alcohol and pills, so I don’t want to tempt the beast.

What has also helped me in more recent times is focusing on my own health both physically and mentally, and that I don’t need to learn how to conquer my anxiety, just know how to live with it and how to give myself grace when I can’t keep a handle on it because sometimes…

The only thing I can muster is a blank stare and a nod, and that’s okay.

Everything you have ever wanted, is sitting on the other side of fear. (7).png

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Tony Robbins Mic Drop Part II

“Which parent did you crave love from the most…” and, “who did you have to be in order to get that person’s attention.”

This is the Tony Robbins mic drop. This question ALSO relates back to last week’s post about drowning in other’s opinion of me. I craved love the most from my Dad. I never felt loved for who I was, only for who I could be for him. The person I needed to be was someone who went above and beyond in every and any situation.

For example, one time, Dad needed somebody to help him paint the outside of the house underneath the deck. He convinced me I was a perfect size and fit for the job, so I agreed. Put on my painting clothes, climbed underneath the deck and crawled over to the spot where dad was hoisting down my paint bucket.

I got paint all over me by the time I was done. Instead of a thank you, I got criticized for how much paint ended up on me and a lecture about being better, faster, and smarter. Everything I did was expected to be perfect, there was no room for grace.

Nothing is good enough as is, you must always push for better and greater, otherwise, you’re a lazy bum who will amount to nothing. And this is a theme I carried throughout childhood and working on to this day to unwind because while it’s important to have the drive, it’s also important to celebrate your victories along the way. Otherwise, you live in a constant perpetual state that plows you through life without appreciating any fruit of your labor and leaves you always feeling, never good enough.

This constant pressure to know better, be better and do better, fueled my need to overachieve in all the things. What I didn’t know then but know now is that I was over-performing in hopes I’d get his attention. Tell me I’m doing a good job, please! Tell me you’re proud! Tell me I’m not a fuck up! 

And right about here is where the bomb exploded in my head like, oh shit. I’m still living and making decisions based off of the want to please my Dad and make him proud because I want to hear ‘”I’m proud of you,” or “I love you for you,” from him before it’s too late.

Jesus, I’m still living under his strict and harsh expectations for me and I haven’t lived under their roof in over a decade! Instead of asking myself how I want to proceed, etc. I’m operating out of habit and the underlying need to please Dad.

Well, hot. damn.

Once again, I need to get the extra voices out of my head and focus only on mine.

Let’s go back to last week’s post for a moment and bring these two together. I have anxiety because I’m trying to please those on the outside looking in and ignoring my own personal wants by burying them under endless mountains to climb/projects to finish.

By not paying attention to MY voice and worrying constantly about how I can show up for others causes massive anxiety because I feel split. Do I actually want to freelance? Do I actually want to have my own company one day? Do I actually want…

When people ask me what I want to do I simply tell them, I want to write books and make a difference. I realized I need to commit to making this real. I never commit to consistency with this blog or the content I publish on my Instagram. I’m not intentional and I keep it small by not sharing these blog posts on other platforms.

I feel less anxiety when I embrace every part of me that makes me, me. And if you need the reminder to love you for you, here it is: we need you as you are, you’re you for a reason.

Tony Ribbins Mic Drop quote on blog

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