Over the Shoulder

To be fitted by Susan Nethero is a pretty big deal. She’s appeared on Oprah several times with every appearance boasting her mantra of one single garment changing a woman’s life. So, when my friend (and publicity guru) Meg Reggie hooked me up with a session with the one and only founder of Intimacy I was beyond thrilled (but also completely weirded out).

You see, I’m talking about bras here, and this year marks the 100th anniversary of its invention. A century of corsets, pushup pillowed inserts, silicone cutlets, underwire, lace, and twisted straps … we’ve come a long way. But, apparently not far enough as most women own at least eight bras and wear only four. I’ve been measured for a bra once, maybe twice, and not in a proper lingerie store; I’m certain it was at a department store and one time for sure was in the junior’s department.

Clearly, for me, the bra is an afterthought. Well, when you meet with Susan it’s a whole different sort of experience right off the bat. For starters, she doesn’t use measuring tape. She expertly brings in a stack of bras some measuring for size around and some for cup. Regardless of how she does it, you’ll walk out with the most amazing fit. In my session (which wasn’t nearly as invasive and strange as I feared it would be) I was enlightened to know I was wearing two sizes too big around (band size) and two sizes too small in the cup. In other words I’ve been spilling out and adjusting straps for years.

So here’s my plea—ladies, let’s all make a pact to invest a little money into a well-fitting bra. I’m not saying it’s life changing, but it is chest changing. It doesn’t have to be fancy, it just has to fit and maybe, just maybe, we’ll actually get more than three in the rotation, bada bing.

Happy Anniversary

Siesta Key, Florida holds a special place in my life. My husband and I fell in love there, for one. Well, we likely were before that, for certain on my end, but it was there that I figured out I was in it for the long haul. We made the trip about five months into dating, our first vacation together as a couple, and after spending a week playing house at his parent’s condo, I still wanted to be around him. And better yet, he still wanted to be around me.

I celebrate two anniversaries in October. The first, my wedding anniversary, which Monday, was seven years. The second, the anniversary of my first danapop post, two years ago on October 14. Both, my loves. My husband and my work, and completely coincidental that both milestones occur the same autumn month. And both hit me like a ton of bricks in Siesta Key; the name and concept behind this website coming five years into my marriage while on a trip to that same beach. It’s pretty fitting that’s where we chose to mark our anniversary this year–it is still the one place that best defines us.

Sometimes I can be go, go, go, check, check, check; off lists, off life, and just the thought of somewhere called Siesta makes you want to change your pace a bit. To wander and just be. My husband and I met and married within two years. I’m sure people in our lives (though no one has ever said) likely thought we were absolutely nuts, but we knew. What’s it that lady says in When Harry met Sally? “You know like you know a good melon.”

I can’t say I know how to pick a proper melon, but I do however know that when I met my husband I was done with dating. I’d had my heart ripped out of my body in more than one way (my father had died nine months prior, I had just gone through a horrific breakup with a really bad boyfriend) and was ready to be on my own for however long it took to be okay with me. And when I took that moment to step away, that afternoon nap on my life and let whatever was going to happen just happen, I went and landed myself a love.

Here’s to remembering to take a Siesta every once in a while to reflect and soak in … so, a toast to another year of writing, and above all, to love.

Cin cin,

Postcards from L.A.

Los Angeles–the city of dreams. My twin sister lives in California, so it’s a state I visit often, but most of my stops are further up the coast in San Francisco, Santa Cruz, and Sonoma.

So, when I heard Catherine, the other half of the fantastic AsianCajuns, planned to hit the SoCal spot with her boyfriend Troy, I just had to get her take. Not only do Catherine and her twin sister Lauren (whom you read all about her travels to Scotland here) write the most fashionable blog in Atlanta, they are experienced travelers, and just plain fun.

Here’s Cath’s refreshing postcard … feel free to read this post while wearing sunglasses indoors, that’s so L.A.

 

What’s in a Weekend?

The concept of a weekend is ancient, dating back to Biblical times; the idea behind it began as a day of rest for the soul and reflection (ahem, no boozing). It was modernized in 1926 when Henry Ford was the first factory owner to close for both Saturday and Sunday, allowing workers time with family to balance out the grueling five-day work week (or to spend their hard earned money on things like cars, how Machiavellian of him).

Throughout my adult life my relationship with Friday night until Monday morning has always been of the tortured variety. You see, I’ve worked at places like 24-hour cable news networks, and boutique public relations firms whose idea of a weekend off on a regular basis is pretty much non-existent. And for the most part, I was fine with that. At the time, I dealt with on-call situations like, say, a space shuttle blowing up and me spending an entire weekend down in the tapes library looking through archival footage of congressional testimony from the Rodgers Commission to locate the portion where o-ring erosion is described on the record by theoretical physicist Richard Feynman, searching for the five-minute portion that isn’t an absolute snooze-fest, as if it were the norm.

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Tuck into Fall

In Atlanta, like most of the country, it’s still unseasonably warm (though as I write, it’s a lovely 58°) at any rate, the dog days aren’t quite over. I’m longing for the flavors and style this equinox is supposed to bring. Spicy, crisp, heavy on the clover, and a crunch beneath my feet, that’s how I want this season to feel, smell, and taste. An ode to hints of autumn that you just want to wrap up all cozy and warm and smother in kisses.

1. Check Belted Drape Coat
2. Cincinnati Chili
3. 19 Block Cuvée Wine
4. Hard Cider
5. Pumpkin Leather Folding Tote
6. Taupe Woven Scarf
7. Gingerbread Cupcake Mix
8. Georgia Cane Syrup
9. Fig Scented Candle
10. Riding Boots

Postcards from Scotland

There’s something about a brooding, throaty Scottish accent. It’s absolutely my favorite. And it doesn’t hurt that I’m actually Scottish, at least the Hazels side of me is. According to a really old photo album put together by my late Grandma Mary, the Hazels clan has roots in what was Forfarshire, Scotland, today better known as Angus (which sounds about right what with the stockiness of those Hazels’ genes). Also, is it just me or does Forfarshire sound like a made-up place in Shrek?

I’m not alone in my Scottish penchant–fellow twins and bloggers extraordinaire, Catherine and Lauren (or Cath and Lar) the lovelies behind the über-popular (and just featured on Glamour.com’s Smitten Guide) Asian Cajuns adore the UK isle as well.

Lar was just in Scotland, and next month, you’ll get to read all about Cath’s Los Angeles adventures. So, here’s a twin and Scottish love collaboration in recap form.

The Method

I first heard about fitness guru Tracy Anderson on Gwyneth Paltrow’s GOOP, and then, when fellow bloggers and friends Asian Cajuns told me about her workout DVD. (Side note, you’ll get to know twins behind the site, Lauren and Catherine better next week.)

Knowing I was going to be at my mom’s and out of my normal workout routine, this DVD seemed like the obvious choice to take with me. Though, I was forewarned, and I’m warning you, to say Tracy isn’t the best teacher is an understatement.

It’s the first workout DVD I’ve done that you really do have to do several times before you get it because she’ll just start going into a new exercise without telling you. Plus, I get the impression she’s pretty much in love with herself and adds dance moves to just about everything. She reminds me of girls who dance in clubs that stare at themselves in the mirror making sexy faces. Oh, and she looks like Shakira while doing it all. Awesome.

But, in her defense, the interview chapter of the tape did resonate with me. She experienced college weight gain, and nothing worked to get her long and lean, she just kept bulking in the gym. Knowing girls want really toned dancer limbs, she spent eight years developing and researching this program, and the end result is this: it works.

My abs after the first workout killed. Which is ironic because that’s the exact section on the DVD I despised the most, her standing abdominal workout where it appears she’s in a Beyonce video and is ridiculously annoying. Seriously she’s just keeping beat to the music. But, I’m thinking the likes of Gwyneth and Madonna, who are Tracy’s clients (I love that I’m writing about her like we’re old friends) know a good thing when they see it. Though not available for download on iTunes, it’s worth the purchase on her website.

And to completely counterpoint, it might be best to get in the whole club scene and pop a bottle of Armand de Brignac while you’re at it. At the very least it’ll make the standing ab portion actually make sense.

Breaking Bread

My mother is a wonderful cook. She learned from her mother and older sister, as they are fantastic in the kitchen as well. But, the thing I think about the most often in my mom’s repertoire is all her own, her homemade bread. Where I live now, in the South, it’s truly all about the biscuits (and I’m trying to master rosemary ones), but there’s nothing more comforting or that reminds me as much of my own roots than my mother’s recipe for simple white bread.

She started making it when they lived in Ft. Bragg, North Carolina in 1971, but it will forever take me back to my Midwestern roots. It’s a bit rustic and no frills, but make no mistake, it’s simply Heaven on a plate. I didn’t always think that, though. Around age eight I recall being really embarrassed at lunch when we were the only kids in the cafeteria noshing on pb&j’s sans the Wonder bread. But, my mom tells a different story of stopping bread baking while my dad traveled for long stretches to Egypt for work and my brother came home and asked, “Where’s that good bread?” Hence, the homemade version was resurrected.

When we were younger, my parents both loved to entertain and threw epic parties generally resulting in my dad calling some old Army buddy of his in some foreign country around 4 a.m. and talking at the top of his lungs after downing gin and tonics all night. But, for those nights that were a bit more civilized, I remember that bread making an appearance, often baked in little terra cotta pots for guests to have their own individual loaf to break.

Ritually, on Wednesdays and Sundays, she’d make that bread. A long, slim loaf that she’d knead out in the morning, let rise in the afternoon, and bake by evening. My favorite way to eat it has always been the same–just out of the oven with a thin spread of butter. That’s it. Since I’ve been in Kansas with my mom this past week, I thought I’d finally nab the recipe and share it with you.

Perfect White Bread
(from Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook)

1 package active dry yeast
¼ cup water
2 cups milk, scalded
2 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon shortening
6 to 6 ¼ cups sifted all-purpose flour

Oven 400°

Soften active dry yeast in warm water (110°). Combine hot milk, the sugar, salt, and shortening. Cool to lukewarm.

Stir in 2 cups of the flour; beat well. Add the softened yeast; mix. Add enough of remaining flour to make a moderately stiff dough. Turn out on lightly floured surface; knead till smooth and satiny (8 to 10 minutes). Shape in a ball; place in lightly greased bowl, turning once to grease surface. Cover; let rise in warm place till double (about 1 ½ hours). Punch down. Let rise again until double (about 45 minutes).

Cut dough in 2 portions. Shape each in smooth ball; cover and let rest 10 minutes. Shape in loaves; place in 2 greased loaf pans (8 ½ x 4 ½ x 2 ½ inch). Cover and let rise till double (about 1 hour). Bake in hot oven (400°) 35 minutes or until done. If tops brown too fast, cover loaves with aluminum foil last 20 minutes. Makes 2 loaves.

Taking Care

Chemotherapy. Just the word sounds like napalm or terrorist. It’s so gross sounding (and feeling from what I’ve been told). Though it’s some of the hardest stuff in the world, I’m grateful for the time I have with my mom right now and the beauty of taking care of her in such an important and meaningful way; just as she does for us.

Cultural Differences

I’ve just returned from an amazing week in Krakow, Poland. I won’t be able to go into full travel details here per usual, as I’ve been assigned that piece for a mortgage paying publication and they get first dibs, but I can tell you a few general things, first … go.

No huge surprise here, like most eastern European countries, in Poland, the dollar gets you far. The old town section of Krakow (the best part) is built around a central square, so if you start there, you’ll be in excellent shape. Park it at a café, sip coffee with steamed milk and just soak it in. Later in the day, add some sight seeing and prosecco, and by gum, you’ve got a vacation from everyday American life.

The overarching theme I walked away with was taking time and allowing myself the space to just be. For us, this year has been one of twists and turns, and sometimes it has taken me a minute (or months) to integrate them into my life. To take time to fully grasp and appreciate the concept of the life I’ve built filled with close friendship, a supportive and loving family, and creative work that inspires me.

This trip allowed me the space to wander, think, write, and observe. The women in Europe are so chic. You’d never catch one in mom jeans looking haggard. No sir, even on long flights minding children and loads of luggage they still manage to put on mile high heels and lipstick. Affection is displayed quite openly and I found myself nostalgic about romance and those little moments I may not notice in my Atlanta life. It could also be because of the reason we were there … love was in the air.

We made the trek to Poland for a dear friend’s wedding, which was, without question, the nicest wedding I’ve ever attended (and like most people in their thirties, I’ve attended many). Planning my own wedding years ago, I made decisions merely to get them crossed off my list, but here that didn’t appear to be the case, seemingly taking such care in every decision from meal, to reading selection, to wine list. The loveliest ceremony I’ve ever witnessed.

Now, back to my cultural observations about both in being in Europe and being surrounded by mostly Irish and English wedding attendees. It seemed like in this lot, if one were to wear Jimmy Choos it’d be because they are good, quality shoes that’ll last, not because it’s something to boast to friends while sitting in your 5,000 square foot home one payment away from foreclosure.

Nothing seems to be done in an ostentatious way, just sophisticated and full of grace. It’s not about a carat diamond ring; it’s about the sentiment behind it. I could use a lot more weeks of taking notice like that in my life. Seems less about what you have and more about how you take care of it. I’ll take the moments over the material any day.