March 20 - Specks

Unfortunately, this week the universe really conspired against me. I have not been sleeping and work is a madhouse. (And yes, I am aware that the two are potentially related and no, I am not interested in unpacking that right this minute.)

When I don’t sleep, everything hurts my feelings. A text from my friend? Terrible underlying tones. My client didn’t love work I presented? Well then they must hate me. Even the universe is out to get me. (Conspiring, if you will.) I don’t run out of coffee grounds because I forgot to buy coffee grounds, but instead because the Greater Powers That Be are specifically looking for ways to make my life a Living Hell. I don’t not sleep and also have a jam-packed work week because my jam-packed work week is stressing me out and making my brain spin in circles when I close my eyes (see, I am slightly self-aware…), but instead it must be because of some evil plan hatched up by The Universe.

When I get into these type of moods, it helps me a lot to think of a quote from Jemima Kirke, an actress in the TV show ‘Girls’ (which I actually don’t really recommend, but I do love and follow Jemima). Someone asked what her advice would be for unconfident young women and she said, very simply, ‘I think you guys might be thinking about yourselves too much.’

Okay? Ouch.

But on further thought… not so ouch.

For the most part, people are too busy thinking about themselves to really spare you that much thought. People have their own friend and work stresses, and the Greater Powers That Be probably have bigger fish to fry than making sure a 27 year old girl (woman? ick) doesn’t have coffee.

Another way I’ve seen this thought explained is by imagining something embarrassing you did in public. And then imagining how small of a part of an witness’ day it was. They lived a full day… and one 2 second snippet of it was watching you spill coffee down your white shirt. What was the worst. Moment. Ever. To you… probably meant next to nothing to them.

So, anyway.

I don’t mean for it to sound depressing. Of course we all have people that deeply care for us. And, at the end of the day, we’re just tiny little specks on a great floating ball, which can actually be deeply calming for me to think about.

March 19 - Bday Present

Okay, so these ones? Right? I text through the link one last time.

Yes!!! Thank you!

Julia and I have been online shopping for her birthday sneakers for the last 30 minutes. We finally landed on a stunning pair from Free People who, as luck would have it, is currently running a deal where if you spend $150, you get $50 future dollars to spend. Free money? To free people? Fine, I’ll bite.

With the sneakers in my cart, I start perusing the sale section. Slightly frantically, however, because Free People had informed me that there were only ‘2 left in stock’ of the sneakers in Julia’s size. I don’t do very well shopping under pressure. I tend to make… rash decisions.

Boring.

Ugly.

Cute! But not my size.

So oversized??

After some hectic scrolling, I’ve narrowed it down to two things. Either a cropped slightly puff vest or a soft button up cardigan. I want both. But I don’t need both. The cardigan is probably more versatile. I (sadly) delete the vest from my cart. Oh, but it’s so cute. No. Done. Decided. Not rash at all!

I place my order.

Sneaks are on their way! I text Julia.

Woot!! Can’t wait.

I check my email for the confirmation and look adoringly at my (soon to be) new, super cute sweater one last time. I click the link, just for good measure. And my jaw drops.

It is NOT the super cute sweater. I have accidentally purchased the skirt the model was wearing with it! And LET ME TELL YOU, this skirt is bad. So bad. It’s low-rise (gasp, the horror), silk (the least forgiving of all the fabrics), mid-length (really not my cup of tea) and, worst of all, it’s covered in Shakespeare quotes. Picture what Ms. Frizzle’s sexy pajamas would look like and you maybe would be close to the reality of this skirt.

In a state of panic, I message the Free People live chat. Fortunately, a very nice person cancels my order for me (it was, after all, placed 2 minutes ago) and, even more fortunately, there are still size 8 sneakers left in stock. Without wasting a moment, I add them and the VEST (the right choice all along) to my cart, double check all my billing and shipping info, and press purchase.

This time, everything is correct. The vest is a vest. The sneakers are sneakers. All is right in the world.

March 18 - A Warm Welcome?!

Can you send me a link to all your blogs? I want to read them. One of my sisters, Julia, does not participate in slicing. But she does (sometimes) like to stay up to date on what my mom, Clare and I find exciting enough in our lives to slice about.

Sure, here. I text through the link.

Things are quiet in our text chain for a good ten minutes.

Wait, who are all these people commenting? Do you know them?

I can’t help but chuckle. No, that’s kinda the point, Jules. It’s a community. You comment on three, and, hopefully, you get a couple comments on your own.

Whaaattttt. That’s crazy. I’m gonna go check Clare’s.

The chat is silent yet again as she reads through Clare’s slices.

No way. She also gets such random comments. This is nuts.

Mhm.

I’d have some pretty crazy things to slice about, honestly. My patients??

I laugh at this, too. Julia would honestly have the most interesting slices of all of us. She’s currently a clinical research associate at a hospital in Boston, and, while she’d have to be careful about HIPAA, her patient stories are hilarious. You’re not wrong. I text back.

Should I… slice tomorrow?? Is that frowned upon? Do you think they’d be annoyed with me starting this far through the month?

No!!!! Is my immediate response. Get in here!

I’ve been slicing since I was 16. 11 years later, my mom and I have welcomed 1 other sister to the Slice Side. And now potentially 2?! Fingers crossed Julia gets some pen on paper … er, words on screen … today. Tomorrow’s her birthday, so I’m sure she’ll have plenty to talk … er, write … about!

March 17 - Step Count

One of my sisters hits 10,000 steps every day. Every day!!! When she first let that slide, my initial reaction was Sorry what? How!? To which she simply replied, I dunno, I just walk everywhere. I never drive. Gym, grocery store, whatever. I’m walkin.

Okay, inspiration alert.

Since chatting with her, I’ve been trying to up my step count. It can just get so… boring. The same places, routes, all that jazz. I also absolutely refuse to carry more than one bag home from the grocery store, so that greatly limits my possible steps of the day.

Today, however. Today was a different story. I’m purposefully not checking my health app, because I don’t need to be disappointed. Instead, I need to be proud of myself for how clean my apartment is, how much freelance work I got done (and done very well, might I add), and how good my meals were.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll get my 10,000 in.

March 16 - Borrowed

Today was St Paddy’s day in Chicago. As I’m sure St Patrick would be happy to hear, this means a day of dyeing the Chicago river, feasting upon green bagels, and, as he would have of course wanted, drinking excessively.

My friend Regan and I decided to meet at her apartment before heading over to our other friend’s spot for the pre-drinking-drinks. We both - sadly - have a lot on our Sunday to-do lists, so didn’t want to get too wrapped up in the festivities, but still wanted to partake in the fun.

I showed up to Regans in a pair of jeans, a cropped grey tshirt that read ‘Ithaca is Gorges’ in green font, and a green puffer jacket. I saw her in her very cute fitted white tshirt reading ‘Lucky’, and was badly wishing that I had put more thought into my St Paddy’s Day outfit before this morning.

“Do you… perhaps… have anything else that would work with this?” I gestured at my jeans and sneakers.

“Hmmm actually, yes, let me grab it.”

She came back out in a second with a super cute off-white t with ‘Chicago’ in green lettering. I tried it on and was immediately sold. The only problem was that it was a tiny bit see through and you could see my undergarments. Fortunately, Regan also let me borrow a solve for that.

As we were heading out the door, I paused.

“Regan, honestly, if I’m borrowing everything else… I got really hot on my walk over here.”

She laughed and came back out of her room a minute later with a lighter button up, perfect with the off-white t-shirt.

Seriously. If you give a mouse a cookie…

March 15 - Passing

CBD gummies in hand, I begin my short walk back to my apartment. I’m never walking on Clark St unless I need something specific that can only be found on Clark St, because Clark St can be a little scary. It’s the street that Wrigley field is on (the Chicago baseball stadium) and has become widely accepted as The Place for 21 year olds to drink in Chicago. What does that mean? It can be a little scary.

Anyway, I’m minding my own business (not really, because Clark St is one of the best places to people watch, so I’m actually getting distracted left and right), working up the nerve and the timing to pass the very slow gentleman in front of me. It’s important to time encounters like this perfectly. The strategy of passing can get particularly tricky when people (like the gentleman in front of me) have noise canceling headphones on. I need to pass but not scare him, mostly because getting bopped in the face on Clark St is not on my Bingo card for today.

As we approach an empty parking spot, I see my opportunity. I’ll dart into the empty parking spot, giving the gentleman a respectable birth, hopefully allowing him to spot me in his periphery, and then I’ll dart back onto the sidewalk in front of him.

The parking spot approaches.

I begin my dash.

And almost collide face to face with a kid clearly doing the exact same thing.

I’m flustered enough that I turn to watch him as he hops back up onto the sidewalk and dashes away, returning to a full sprint in jeans, a hoodie and slides. But that’s not the weirdest part. In his arms he clutches nothing but a large box of Hefty garbage bags.

Why there was an 18 (ish) year old boy sprinting down the street at 12pm on Clark St in jeans and slides and a large box of trash bags is, unfortunately, a mystery to me. Any guesses?

March 14 - Narrow Escape

One thing about me is that I’m a crier. It’s - scientifically proven - to be a condition that is passed down genetically. My dad bawled during the movie Up… I never stood a chance.

I honestly don’t cry too too often during ‘real life’ events. What gets me more is books, movies, tv shows, inspirational clips of people winning marathons, compilations of babies with puppies, you know, things like that.

I had to go into the office for the morning today (the horror) and the train was calm enough on the way back home that I was able to grab a seat and get some pages in. But by the time I’d gotten to my stop, I was not at all at a breaking point in my book. My kindle was telling me that I had about 10% left, so I rushed home to try to finish during the rest of my lunch hour.

About five minutes after sitting down at home, the waterworks began. And they did not stop until I had completed the book (and immediately purchased the sequel).

I do not take my good fortune today for granted, especially having been caught in public positions before where the cry-scenes did not occur on the safety of my couch, but instead next to strangers on an airplane. Or waiting at the doctor’s office. Or sitting in the school’s dining hall. If I’d been just 3% further along in this book, I could have added ‘Chicago train’ to my list.

March 13 - Burning Ears

“Were your ears just burning??”

When I got that message from one of the higher ups at my company, at first my heart dropped. What had I done? Thankfully she followed up quickly enough that my heart only made it down to about belly button level.

“We just got off a call and were all singing your praises!”

So, so often, we, as women, feel the need to tell each other when someone is saying something negative about us. I don’t know what the solution is - is it best to tell the person? Typically, I would say it’s best to keep it to yourself… But what if someone you care about keeps running back to this friend who speaks terribly about them? It’s a convoluted, complicated mess. The only real solve is to stop being mean, but sadly that’s not always an answer.

Getting this message today was such a breath of fresh air. Not only did I feel incredible about myself and the work I’ve been doing, but it also reminded me - the things we pass on that others are saying don’t always need to be bad! I can’t wait to say great things about my friends behind their backs… and tell them.

March 12 - Pickle Weather

“Honestly, tomorrow’s looking beautiful… should we…?” I texted my pickleball groupies.

“I am so there.”

“Down.”

“Say less.”

And so it came to be that tonight at 5:30pm I was playing pickleball in March with a few good friends on a 68º day.

My friend Maddie and I, admittedly, got wrecked (Mom and Clare, if you’re reading, yes, Kyle is very good), but it was not for lack of trying. I ended up horizontal on the court a total of three times and am gently concerned about my right butt muscle after a particularly insane run up to the net.

But ohhhh man, did we have fun.

When we could no longer see the ball well enough to make contact, we took down my net and pow wow’d on the fake grass adjacent to the court, munching on our pre-dinner granola bars and basking in our good fortune of having a lovely Tuesday evening.

March 11 - Quick Fix

In total transparency, I was feeling a little out of sorts this morning. I led myself down a path of imposter syndrome, felt incredibly unmotivated to do the insane amount of work on my plate or clean up my apartment, and all I did want to do was sit on my couch and doom scroll the internet. Healthy.

The very last thing I wanted to do was workout, but I had a feeling it would make me feel better. I decided to keep it easy-breezy and do a 20 minute low impact Peloton ride over my lunch break. 10 minutes in, my heart rate actually started to decline. At the first bead of sweat, I felt about half as angry over the little things that had been driving me nuts all morning.

Honestly, it drives me absolutely insane how much better working out - even a 20 minute low impact ride - makes me feel. It can be so hard to talk myself into, and then I’m always so glad that I do.