The Little Squash That Could

Neil was just an ordinary carnival squash, sitting at the grocery store with all his friends. He stared longingly at the display of pumpkins which were being purchased by the dozen. I'm a perfectly good carving shape and size, he thought. Why doesn't anyone pick me?

Finally, the magical date of October 31st came around, and all the pumpkins were purchased. Neil sighed. Well, he thought. I missed my chance. Just then, a desperate brave soul marched over and picked him up. "Look", she said to her friends, "who cares if they're out of pumpkins? I'll just carve this cool squash instead!" Her friends laughed. "A squash is not a pumpkin!" they said.

As Neil sat on the table, waiting patiently to be carved, he sized up his competition. Those are pretty cool pumpkins, he thought. All I've ever wanted is to fit in. Only one of the girl's friends believed in her. "I love the creativity of the squash," she said. "Great idea!" When Neil was carved and accessorized, he puffed up with pride. I look pretty good, if I do say so myself, he thought.

Even better, Neil had a new friend.

Neil glowed just as brightly as any pumpkin ever would...

...and by the end of the night, Neil had a brand new set of friends: Esmerelda, Petey/Ernie, Pheonix and Felix. They accepted him, even though he was a bit different.

The girl decided that perhaps she'd make a tradition from that point on of carving a squash each year. Happy Halloween!

The End

Moderation

Today, I read an interesting article in the NY Times entitled Learning Moderation from the Marathon and was immediately transported back to one of the most humbling moments of my life. 

I was 25, and without prior running experience, decided to train to run the LA Marathon. I joined Team in Training, exercised religiously, and got all my friends and family to donate to the cause (and this was before I was on Facebook - I actually mailed out physical letters!). As you may well imagine, I got injured about a month before the run. I was overdoing it and I should have never done so much in the first place. Yet, I kept going to physical therapy, kept trying to work out and up until I started the race, and kept believing that as long as I didn't stop (this is how extreme I was thinking) I would just finish the race and THEN would collapse. 

I started running with my friends, my IT band injury immediately started acting up, and before I knew it, I was walking the 26.2 miles by myself. One of my friends did come and walk a mile with me, which I will be forever grateful for. I learned very quickly that even to walk that far, I should have trained more. By the last couple of miles, I was ready to stop. 

Just then, a middle-aged woman came up to me, and, slowing down, smiled and offered to walk with me. "I don't want to slow you down," I panted. I was hobbling at this point, and my feet were a mess of pins and needles. "Oh, I'm not trying for a specific time," she said. "I just like walking. Don't get too extreme, like all these runners out there." I realized then that I was putting so much pressure on myself to run this marathon simply because I said I would. Even though I wasn't a runner, even though I was injured - it was so hard for me to just exercise a bit of moderation. If I had, a month before the marathon, decided to walk, I wouldn't be having such a hard time just then. 

So, I walked the last three miles with this wise stranger, and finished the marathon (it took me almost 9 hours to walk the whole thing). I learned then that my motto can't ALWAYS be to work as hard as it takes to get something done. Sometimes, moderation really is the key.

Let the cold run its course

Tuesday's Post

I'm a pretty big medicine person. I don't like admitting this, but when I have a headache, I'll take a Tylenol (or Excedrin - if it's really bad). When I have a cold, I run the gammit of taking Cold-eeze, Emergen-C, DayQuill, Zinc, etc. My dad always tells me to take Zinc. Point being, I get sick, and I rush to the pharmacy. At my chiropractic appointment yesterday (which I tried to get out of saying I was sick but was told to come in anyways because it would help me get better) my doctor told me that all I needed was the adjustment to boost my immune system. She said to just let the cold run its course, and to stop taking medicine. I'm still waiting for that treatment to work.

I love ya...but stay back!

Today my amazing friend brought me dinner while I was home sick. When I tried to give her a hug, she stepped back a bit. "I love you, but I just got over being sick...I'm not trying to go down that road again." 'Tis the season to be sniffly. Totally understandable :).

Who was Waldo, anyways?

At a Halloween party where there was a Waldo, I started wondering about the true nature of Waldo's character. 

Why did he hide so much? Was he simply shy? Reserved? Sneaky? Sly? Perhaps someday I'll write an expose about Waldo's true inner self!

Foot in my mouth

Saturday's Post

At the organization Harvest Festival Saturday, I manned the welcome table. As I asked a man and his kid to sign in, I said, "And who's this little guy?" He turned to me and said, "SHE's just waiting for her twin sister." Oops.

Preferential customers

Friday's post

As I've mentioned, I've become a regular at the sushi place down the block. On Friday, when I got my check, I saw a 10 % discount at the bottom. The waitress, who gave me a huge hug when I walked through the door, said I was now a preferential customer. Looks like I'll be frequenting this place a bit more from now on.

All clear!

So apparently I should have been getting full body skin cancer checks at the dermatologist...did any of you guys know this? I guess it's a thing. So today, at the dermatologist, I'm suddenly informed that I will be partaking in this examination. Suddenly I am standing completely naked in front of my dermatologist and some med student furiously scribbling notes. It was a bit awkward, to say the least. The doctor kept muttering these foreign terms for a moment, until I got a bit nervous. 

"You said a lot of stuff," I tried to joke. "Is something wrong?" 

"Nope - all that basically means is that you have some moles," she said. "You're all clear!"

Ah. Now I know to not even listen to the mystery doctor terms and to just wait for the results!

Pretty coffee

I was a barista for quite some time. First at Starbucks, then at a sweet spot called Abbot's Habit, and then at a coffee catering company. I LOVE the smell of coffee, and I love making coffee. Yet I am not entirely sold on actual coffee. My dad always says that when he was young, his dad would give him a spoonful of sugar with a bit of coffee soaked in, and gradually he decreased the amount of sugar in the spoonful. He did the same with me, but I'm still hooked on the sugar. I like coffee ice cream, coffee drinks, and coffee with LOTS of sugar and milk. Some might say I'm kind of a coffee wimp.

One of my favorite parts of coffee drinks is that they can be so beautiful. In my day as a barista, we just made the coffee. Nowadays, coffee is an art. Today, when I got my pumpkin spice latte, I literally said quite loudly, "Woah, are you serious??!" The barista laughed. I had the most gorgeous cup of coffee in front of me. I almost didn't want to even drink it. 

Apples 4 Our Neyborz

Today, walking down the street, I passed a rather upscale, exclusive restaurant that had a box of apples outside with this sign in the box:

This picture was actually taken after all the apples had been eaten. The first time I passed by, this box was full of delicious-looking apples. At first, I just thought this was part of the wonderful city of brotherly love mentality that Philadelphia is supposed to have. Yet, I was suspicious.

Maybe I've been watching too much "Once Upon a Time" and I've been paranoid of the Evil Queen poisoning my apples. Perhaps the slang threw me off. Or perchance I just couldn't trust a free apple. I didn't take one.

When I walked by the second time, an hour later, they were all gone. Now I really want a free apple.

Business cards

Today I received my first business card. I'm 31 years old. I was in a meeting when my colleague brought them in (after they had been delayed for 4 months). I couldn't stop holding the box of cards and smiling.

I started wondering why business cards meant so much to me....

It's not like I haven't been working for the past ten years. I've been a Camp Counselor, an Outdoor Education Instructor, a Teacher and a Teacher Leader. 

Yet...I've never owned a business card. My favorite breakfast diner in college had a "business person's breakfast". My roommate and I used to laugh, remembering that scene in Romy and Michele's High School Reunion (yes, I'm admitting to watching that movie) where they try to prove they are now successfully employed. They basically try to order that meal to seem impressive, since they actually haven't had a job since high school.

I, unlike Romy and Michele, have never wanted to be a business woman. I'm not even sure what that means. Yet something about that elusive business card always screamed "professional" to me. The fact that in order to have a business card as a teacher I would have to make them myself seemed a bit embarrassing. Why, I wondered, didn't my profession warrant a business card? Did my employers assume I would never be networking? Attending conferences? Interacting with the public?

A business card is a tiny square piece of paper, yet ultimately it makes a statement about who you are. That's why companies spend so much time picking out their logo, font, color scheme and type of paper, right? Ever so subtly, the business card is definitely an identifying factor. Shouldn't everyone have one? Doesn't everyone, in their own way, conduct important business? Merriam-Webster defines "business" as "work that is part of a job".

It's my personal opinion that I, like everyone else who works, deserves a business card. Sure, I don't need a little piece of paper to tell me who I am. But it sure helps to send a strong message to the outside world.

The downside of google maps

I have a pretty bad sense of direction. Okay, I'll admit it. I have a terrible sense of direction. Unlike my mother, who only has to go someplace once and she remembers how to go back, I can get lost going someplace I've been a dozen times before. I honestly don't know how I survived driving cross country by myself, constantly pulling over and triple-checking my atlas. 

Once I got my iPhone, I was thrilled that I would have to supposedly never face this problem again. I wouldn't have to write down directions and then pull over to gas stations, asking over and over again why one step just didn't seem to lead to the next. 

Yet today, the geography of Washington, DC was just too much to handle. You see, in DC, addresses can be NW, NE, SE and SW. Yes, that's right. One has to be very specific when entering an address to get the correct quadrant. That's why, early this morning, I found myself in the exact opposite direction that I was meant to be. In that moment, I resolved for the 100th time to just study a map. Anyone want to help me?

The fun of being scared

I've never been the one to voluntarily choose a scary movie, read a horror novel or write a ghost story. In fact, up until high school I would just flat our refuse to put myself in a situation where I was going to be scared. I had no interest in waiting to see exactly how the heroine in a movie died. I wanted comedy, romance and adventure. Terror had no hold on my choices.

In high school, my friend finally convinced me to watch the "Scream" movies. I realized that they weren't so bad. In fact, it was kind of fun to watch a movie and to jump and scream every once in a while. Of course, I would have to hold his hand while I watched and hide my face at some parts but overall, I did enjoy myself.

Fast forward to the present, where Halloween just doesn't feel right unless I attend a Haunted House at a prison and a Haunted Forest that's actually in the middle of the woods. Now, I love being scared. Well, that may be an exaggeration. I love being scared in small doses. Tonight, I went to the Haunted Forest, carrying on a time-honored tradition with that same friend from high school who introduced me to scary movies, and it was exhilarating. The rush of adrenaline I got from being scared was an amazing natural high. Jumping a bit and screaming in terror was soon replaced by laughing hysterically at how scared I was. 

As we were leaving the Haunted Forest, a group of kids walked up to us. "Is it scary?" they asked. "YES!" I said before thinking, realizing that I wasn't giving the answer they wanted to hear. "But...scary in a fun way!" I tried to add. 

I probably will never be one to want to get in bed with a Steven King novel, but I do love a good haunted house at Halloween. Even though I'll always be scared, I think it's more fun that way. 

Frank Sinatra is a liar

Today, I met an elderly gentleman of 91 in a coffee shop. Of course, you'll say. I do tend to gravitate towards older people. I think it's partially because my grandma is my best friend. To me, after so many years, every older person has such an amazing story to tell, and I love to listen. This particular gentleman, who introduced himself as Dr. Evans, was talking about his wife of 75 years who had recently passed away. He told me how wonderful she was, and what a shame it was that she had passed away first. Don't get me wrong - he was incredibly optimistic and upbeat, but my heart ached for his loss.

"Now I'm alone," he said. "And you know what? Frank Sinatra is a liar...it really ISN'T better the second time around - for me, the second time around just isn't better."

It made me really ponder the meaning of one of Frank's most lyrical songs, "The Second Time Around". Was Frank trying to get over a breakup? Trying to be hopeful for future loves? And, if we are really being honest, once you are 91 and have been married for 75 years, wouldn't you just assume it's game over time for love?

I can't stop thinking about Dr. Evans, and his first time around. I'm so glad he found his true love on his first try. I'm assuming it had to have been pretty darn fabulous.

Misting

Thursday's post:

It wasn't raining yesterday, rather, it was misting. I had my umbrella (rather, my friend's umbrella that I still need to return) on the ready, but every time I opened it, the alleged rain would go away. Finally I gave myself over to the mist, and returned home invigorated yet kind of soaked after my long walk.

Faking it 'till I make it

Today, I sat down with my new intern to tell him about his responsibilities. I've been avoiding this moment for about two months. Why? Not for a lack of tasks to have him accomplish; simply because I haven't wanted to seem like I don't know what I'm doing. I kept telling myself that after more time, I would be the kind of supervisor an intern needed. Finally this week, enough was enough. I realized while talking to this senior in college that believe it or not, I have learned some things in my almost 10 year stint out of college. All of a sudden, while talking to him, I felt distinctly like I looked like I had it together. My grandma has always told me to "fake it 'till I make it", and today, with my fake confidence, I think I fooled my intern...and perhaps myself.

Surround sound

Out at dinner for my lovely friend's birthday tonight, when desert time came, rather than simply singing "Happy Birthday", the restaurant went all out. They turned on an instrumental version of "Happy Birthday" on full blast, the entire restaurant started singing, and it was amazing. 

It's okay to be the same person you were in high school

I went to an amazing high school. I realize that more and more every time I think about it. I went to one of those small, private schools where I was one of 75 in my graduating class, received tons of personal attention, creative opportunities, one-on-one attention and most of all, made some fantastic friends. (Thanks, Mom and Dad!)

Yet often when I think of high school, I think of the awkward, shy, braces-wearing girl that was often stumbling over herself, messing up class presentations and worried about not being popular enough. Even though I had this amazing group of friends, high school was still a hard time for me.

I'm also one of those rare people who still sees and keeps in touch with high school friends on a regular basis. Not as much as I would like of course, but I don't go more than 8 months without seeing them all. They are such a special group of people, and I'm so lucky to have them.

This weekend, I attended a high school friend's wedding. Since both her parents at some point or another have taught at my former high school, there were several of my former teachers in attendance. Even though I see my friends regularly, events such as high school holiday parties or class reunions are pretty anxiety-inducing for me. I constantly feel like I have to impress my teachers and former classmates and I have to BE somebody different.

I mean, come on, doesn't everyone want to go and wow everyone from their former high school with a major transformation?

Talking to my former teachers, former college counselor, and former principal, I realized I really haven't changed that much since high school....and that it's not such a bad thing. I was awe-struck by how many specific details these teachers remembered about me even almost 15 years later. Instead of remembering the awkward, shy, anxiety-ridden girl, they remembered the conversations we had, the papers I wrote, the presentations I gave, and the potential they saw in me to do something great. They were so genuinely excited to see me, get the official report of how I was doing, and make sure I was happy.

In that moment, I realized that one of the best parts about my high school experience is that I've ended up with several sets of second parents. Whether it's my friends' parents (who still get together for book club every month), a former teacher, or a former college counselor...they all love me and want me to be doing well. ME. The girl who has certainly evolved since high school, but who fundamentally hasn't changed. I've decided to start embracing that as a good thing, and maybe this year the annual high school holiday party won't be so scary.

Riding the carousel

Today, I got to ride a carousel. At a wedding. I couldn't imagine a better moment than looking over at my friend and her new husband, riding a carousel, laughing away, holding hands as we whirled and twirled around and around and around with as much glee as little kids.

You gotta take care of your face

In Sephora today I had a rather clarifying moment. You see, historically I have been extremely lucky with my skin. I didn't have much acne at all as a kid. I've never really had to wear make-up. I've just always been okay without having to put much effort into it.

Before you start to hate me, let's fast-forward several years to the point a couple years ago when I discovered I have rosacea. At first I just thought my cheeks were naturally rosy. My mom always said I would never need to put on blush. It got a bit worse than that. Still, even with my trips to the dermatologist and my special soap...I didn't put that much effort into taking care of my face. I even (gasp) used regular Curel body lotion as a moisturizer. It just wasn't a priority. I wasn't happy with the fact that my skin was looking worse and worse...but I wasn't doing anything about it either.

Today, in Sephora when I confessed this all to Brian, the amazingly nice salesman, his look of pure horror really did it for me. After hearing a well-intentioned lecture about how taking care of my skin now would make me so much happier later, I bought some very expensive skincare products and immediately resolved to start my new skin care regiment ASAP.

Yeah...I got nothing tonight folks

In one fell swoop tonight, my entire sleep-deprived week came crashing down on me, and I'm being propelled towards my pillow. I'll try and muse on something more profound tomorrow night. It's all about the practice of writing, right? Not the product?

A moment of quiet

Often I really like noise. I like music playing in my home, being on the phone with a friend, watching a re-run of How I Met Your Mother, hearing background noise in a coffee shop. Being quite and still can make me quite antsy. 

This evening, I took a couple minutes to sit and do, well, nothing. It was actually quite lovely. Not meditating yet...but a start.

Shake your groove thing

My amazing friend and I pow-wowed on the phone this past Monday about our goals for the week (you know, it was Motivational Monday and all). "I really need to focus," I immediately said. "I have so many deadlines coming up at work. What about you?"

"I think my goal is to do what makes me happy," she replied.

I was a bit taken aback. In our Motivational Monday talks, we've spent so much time talking about how many minutes a day we'll write, or how many pages we'll get done. This goal for me seemed to come out of left field. "I think just doing what makes me happy will make everything else fall into place," she explained. I realized after a moment that she was exactly right.

Fortuitously, I had just read about taking small steps at a time towards what you want in one of my favorite blogs; Custom Made Life. You should absolutely check it out if you haven't already. This woman speaks the truth! The main point of the blog is that if you keep thinking things need to change 100%, you'll get discouraged - but if you make a 10% change, little by little it'll add up.

I tried to use both theories - the do what makes you happy theory and the 10% theory in terms of exercise today. Here's my normal exercise routine. I'll work out hard-core for maybe 2 weeks, scheduling myself for every class possible. Then, predictably, after those 2 weeks, I'll skip one day, decide that I've failed, and stop going.

I started thinking today about how good I feel when I actually work out, and how just working out one day would really make a difference. So I went to spinning class and it was awesome. The instructor turned off all the lights and turned on the disco ball. The last song was, "Shake your groove thing." Exercise really can't get better than that!

My initial instinct after the class was over was to schedule myself in for the next week to attend gym classes, but I decided to pause. Tomorrow, I'll figure out what will make me the happiest AND allow me to progress maybe 10%...all while shaking my groove thing.

The magic of candles

In the fall, when there's a crisp feel to the air, I always feel the urge to light candles. Within seconds, my often drafty home transforms to a cozy hideaway. With a candle burning and butternut squash baking tonight, I felt the lure of the East Coast autumn.

Fork or spoon?

I took a red-eye flight for the first time since college last night/this morning and although I hate to say it, this may be one of those "I'm getting old" posts. In college, red-eye flights from California to DC were a standard practice.

Even though I usually didn't get sleep, I could make it through the day just fine. This time around, my 31-year old self noticed some slight departures from my 20-year old experience.

In college, I didn't mind when the people in front of me were loudly talking. Now, I wanted to use my teacher voice to tell them to pipe down.

In college, I wouldn't care what people were eating on the plane. Now, when the woman beside me ate various fasts foods for what seemed like three hours, I wanted to lecture her on her health.

In college, I could fall asleep fairly comfortably sitting up. Now, I woke up and had a stiff neck.

However, the greatest difference may in fact be my cognitive abilities. In college, I could get away with not sleeping AND still making sense the next day. Now....

I ordered a soup for lunch and asked for a fork. The man gave me a sort of odd look, but went along with my request. I took the fork, sat down at my table, tried to eat my lentil soup, and immediately started getting annoyed at the fact that they had given me a fork when I had specifically asked for a spoon. Who eats soups with forks? I was about to go on a rant. When I went back up to the counter, I asked for a spoon and the man burst out laughing. "I thought you actually wanted a spoon, but I thought, hey, I'll just go along with it." I realized in that moment that I wasn't making much sense at all (I probably shouldn't be blogging right now), sheepishly went back to my seat, ate my soup with a spoon, and ordered an extra coffee.

Avocado avalanche

Sunday's Post

Have I adequately described my love for avocados? I'm tempted to try to write an ode or a ballad, but even though I was an English major, my aptitude for poetry is a bit sub par. I love avocados in salads, sandwiches, by themselves, guacamole, as desert - you name it. In short, I'm obsessed.

In the five and a half years I lived in California, one of my main goals was to try to incorporate avocados into every meal. I even once added avocados to a Thai green curry. Some might have said it was gross. It totally worked.

The problem with living on the East Coast is that avocados don't grow around here. When I read Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle in which she talks about her family eating seasonally and locally, my first thought was that I could do that - no problem. My second thought was that I could never give up avocados (or chocolate for that matter), so no dice.

I found myself at a Farmer's Market in Ojai, California on Sunday and my first thought was that I wanted to take all the fresh, local avocados home. I even greedily ended up taking one in my purse on the plane. This morning, after my red-eye flight, I opened my purse to find that my avocado wasn't quite...let's say intact. In one of my more uncouth moments, I tried to scrape out all the edible parts of the avocado from my purse to savor my last taste of the West Coast.

"Today, you are my greatest treasure"

Saturday's post

I would have to say I typically cry at weddings. Probably 99 % of the time. This should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me. There's something incredibly emotional about watching someone you love marry someone he or she loves. I of course always forget a tissue and like clockwork, once those vows start, the waterworks turn on. This wedding was, of course, no different. What can I say? I guess I'm just a sucker for happy endings.

In her vows, my dear friend remembered a fortune she had gotten right before starting to date the man who would become her husband; it read something like, "Your greatest treasure is right in front of you." I started thinking about the word treasure.

Some people might have said the definition of treasure meant that you would need one of these...

....to find something like this...

Searching for the treasure (essentially, money), meant searching for something that would change lives. Yet sometimes, that life change is right there and we just don't see it, or we're not meant to at that point. In that moment, watching my friend tell her now husband that he is her greatest treasure of all, it made me think that perhaps I should start looking more closely at all of the treasures in my life that may or may not be hidden at first glance.

I was so grateful that my amazing friend had finally found the ultimate treasure of her life. Oh and of course, at that point, I probably looked like this:

Pondering the meaning of work

I've never been so confused about the definition of work in my life.

Don't get me wrong, I've had steady jobs since I was 14. Yet up until now, my work has been measured in hours. An hour at a coffee shop, an hour as a waitress or hostess, or an hour spent teaching as a camp counselor, outdoor education instructor and then a teacher. When you are in front of kids for an hour, there's no ifs, ands, or buts about whether or not you are really working.

Now I have this job where I have an incredible amount of work, but my time and location is sometimes my own to control. For example, today in Los Angeles, I'm working from home. I'm not in the office, but I'm answering emails, making phone calls, and working on projects. Does that mean I'm working? I'm not in meetings, I'm not providing instruction and I'm not present and accounted for in an office.

I constantly have more and more to do and work can be done from home at any point. I have spent a considerable amount of time envying my friend who works in a state prison as a therapist because she legally CANNOT take any work home. Can you imagine? (Totally not trying to underestimate how difficult her job is :). Yet seriously, can you imagine someone stopping you on the way out and saying, "Oh no you don't! You legally can't take that work home!!"

Often in my new job I have days completely filled with meetings rather than days completely filled with hours of teaching. That baffles me too, since I come from a profession where meetings would have to take 20 minutes in-between classes, and decisions had to be made immediately. Now I have meetings that often last for two hours before a decision is made. 

I often envy those who work from a computer and can be location independent. It sounds very cool and glamorous to me to be able to set a schedule and be able to work essentially anywhere that has internet. Yet I know I would miss the interaction with adults, kids and yes, even the long meetings.

I guess at some point in this new era, everyone has to create their vision of what they want their job to be. I'm still trying to figure that out. For today, I am loving my office.

The magic of palm trees

* This is a post originally meant for Thursday, however, by the time I got to bed here in California - (yes, I'm in California!) it was 3 am last night!!

I remember when I first moved to California for college. I couldn't stop gushing about the palm tree right outside my room. In fact, if I'm totally honest, seeing palm trees all around the gorgeous college campus of Occidental College may have constituted 90 % of my decision to attend. What is it about palm trees, I wonder? They just seem so exotic and other-worldly compared to the maples, birches, pines and oaks of the East Coast. Palm trees seem to scream adventure and paradise to me.

Of course I was devastated when I learned that palm trees are really not native to California, and that they are all transplanted here. However, that didn't totally take away the magic.

It's now been 6 years since I've lived in California. Coming back here for one of my best friends from college's wedding, I still got that jolt of excitement when I walked out of the airport and saw my palm trees.

See how they beautify even an airport?? Maybe it's an obsession that will never go away!

Has the seed been planted?

I've been cat sitting for about three months now, and this is my final night with Ms. Cai.

Over the past three months, I've begun to think of her as my cat. I'm really sad knowing that she'll be gone tomorrow. My friends keep asking me when I'm going to get a cat of my own. It's funny, but I always thought I'd have a cat by now, and I don't. One friend said today, "Okay, now the seed has been planted...you HAVE to get your own cat!"

Has the seed been planted? Should I get a cat of my own?

Oh, TOM!

I'm not actually talking about my father here (his name is Tom). I'm talking about TOM's. You know, the amazingly cute, trendy shoe. The one that goes with EVERYTHING. The one that manages to be casual yet fancy at the same time??!!! I love, love love TOM's.

In fact, I just got brand-new TOM's. After a couple of weeks, they looked like this:

At first, I didn't blame the TOM's. They're too cute to blame. I mean, look at the one place that's actually beaten up! I was convinced for a couple of days that I was just walking the wrong way. So I went into my chiropractor appointment today, sure I had made some huge discovery.

"Look!" I said. "Couldn't this be the reason for all of my back problems?? Clearly, I'm walking the wrong way!"

"Um..." my somewhat judgmental chiropractor said. "Those are just really badly made shoes." I looked down and saw that she had a pair of TOMS on herself. In that moment, I bit my tongue.