Double Trouble

Surely by now you’ve seen this video? I love everything about it. How one baby is smiley and taking it all in, letting the other one talk his little heart out, animated and vocal. My twin sister and I are not identical, unlike what these adorable fellas appear to be. No, we’re fraternal, which, when broken down, means we’re no different technically than any other siblings. But we are, regardless of the countless studies saying the contrary. Separated by just eight minutes (the longest of my mom’s life, she says) we were born on our due date, which is overdue for twins. Apparently we liked each other from the get-go, no hurry to join the rest of the world, perfectly fine hanging out, just the two of us.

I’ve touched upon being a twin (here) but that piece was more about my marriage than my relationship with my sister. We’re more alike than people give us credit for. I think others want to compare twins and stick them in a box and give them set differences and all that is fine, but the one key difference with us, despite what people try to interject, is the speed in which we operate. We joke that I function as if I’ve just done a few lines of coke, her like she’s just digested a bag of mushrooms and is waiting for the pretty colors to change. Our swim coach growing up used to call us Double Trouble—she was just Trouble and I was More Trouble, and I think we lived a bit in those roles for a while. She was shy and I was outgoing, doing the talking for the both of us. She was careful in thinking, doing that for me, very cautious and meticulous in her process.

My mom tells a fantastic story about us. I’ve always gone to bed early and gotten up early, even as a baby. My twin stayed up late and slept in (when did our poor mother sleep?). Well, one morning when we were babies, I crawled out of my crib and padded downstairs to find my mother in the kitchen. She asked me if my sister was up, and I said no. My mom started to feed me and about half and hour or so passed. With no noise from upstairs or anything, I declared, “She’s up.” We went upstairs, and sure enough, she was stirring in her crib. I apparently just knew and I’d do that often.

When this video appeared online, my twin was at a conference for a week in Tampa and I didn’t talk to her for almost an entire week. One of the longest stretches we’ve ever gone except for times one of us has been out of the country. It was awful and I felt off for days–sad, lonely, just bleh. She’s back, thank goodness, but it made me realize how special our relationship is, and one I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Also—I’m pretty sure the video ruckus is over the missing sock.

 

A Respite

Several of my friends saw the Dalai Lama (if you were my husband, you’d insert the Bill Murray-Caddyshack line here) speak last year when he was in Atlanta and the take away (according to them) was that life is about finding the sweet spots along the way, not nirvana at the end.

The journey is the message, and I think there’s something in that. So far, this year’s been particularly busy. I’m trying to wrap up several major writing projects, and ease into a new position, as well as start a new chapter in our family. But, I’ve found it’s always busy (in some fashion) and there’s often a monkey wrench … not every year is a job layoff and cancer, but some are just difficult conversations or a conflict with a sibling. Here are a few things giving me respite lately…

Third Eyes and British Unicorns

I carry a lot of energy. I’m certain I possess more than the average person, and most times that tends to work in my favor and can be put to good use. But during my husband’s layoff last year I realized that without the proper tools for channeling that energy, it can turn into anxiety and worry in an instant.

Because of this, on recommendation from a dear friend, I joined an introductory meditation class. Leading up to the class there are several things that happened. One, the class got canceled. What does it mean when your four-week class to combat stress is canceled? Oh, and it was also scheduled during the holidays, helpful for those of us that might need meditation tools to not go ape shite on our family and have to send handwritten apology notes to everyone after a table gets flipped or something of that nature. Second, I happened to stumble across an article about a study released in a psychology journal about the grey matter of the brain physically changing with the practice of meditation. It’s a fascinating read, you can find it here.

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Little Lions

I forget sometimes that danapop has readers outside the confines of Atlanta. There’s a whole world of folks out there that don’t receive the rounds of professional chatter, twitter, facebook, or a chance to catch up at events in person. That things might be happening and before I know it two months go by and I realize I’ve left you with a bomb tease of 2011 starting with a bang and you’re just left wondering what exactly I’m talking about. To circle back, the bang is me leaving a freelance job (DailyCandy Atlanta editor) I’ve had for almost three years and starting a new one (community manager for MSN’s portal called Postbox), which officially began this week.

It’s a great fit all around, but sometimes change is quite difficult with the overlap of duties, learning curves, and settling in to a new routine. But, all of it was sort of my own doing. You see, back in December after reflecting on the past year professionally, I merely mentioned to my husband that maybe this year I should think about another steady gig to do alongside my existing one (or if the offer was strong enough, replace the old one all-together). That little whisper, that little lion’s voice, started the ball rolling and within days I was thrown into the ring of applicants for a job I didn’t even know existed. The Mumford & Son’s performance at the Grammy’s the other night sort of sums up the beautiful chaos I’m feeling these days. Man, I love those guys. So here’s to gathering the lion’s roar and settling into new adventures.

In with a Bang

Our holiday card last year said something about 2010 going out with a bang, and it featured the above photo. We felt like we were really giving the shite year (husband’s layoff, mom’s cancer) a proper sendoff. The beauty of it all is that without last year, we wouldn’t fully appreciate the wonderfulness that is now. You have to have scary to have sweet, heartbreak to have joy, life’s simple balancing act. Ah, therapy, you work wonders.

But, I didn’t realize that what we thought was sending 2010 out, is actually bringing 2011 in with a bang. I’m on the brink of change—and with any shift, I automatically go into scared shitless-manic mode, but trying (really, I am) to roll with it all and live each day fully and not worry about the rest—easier said that done. I may have broken a personal record last week for how many days in a row one can pass off yoga pants and a little girl’s-sized kung-fu fighter anime t-shirt as work attire, how many nervous belly trips to the bathroom one can take, and I’m pretty sure even my twin sister is dodging my anxious, talk-until-I’m-out-of-breath phone calls. Last week did not compile my finest days.

Unfortunately, all of this is too premature to write about, but hopefully, soon, I’ll be able to tell you about it all. Until then, I’m dodging bullets.

A Pause

Last week, many parts of the country came to an abrupt halt because of ice, snow, and the harshness of winter. It’s reported that 49 states had packed powder on the ground (including, phenomenally enough, Hawaii). I could write about the ridiculousness of how long it took to get streets plowed in neighborhoods and argue the points of city verses state roads and whom highways officially belong to, but I’m beyond over the political rhetoric and yelling, so the discussion seems unnecessary.

We were snowed in for days with rather ill preps (no wine on the rack and no beer in the fridge), milk and eggs dwindling. But, it allowed us to take a pause, which for me, was the point. To weed through the bare essentials, the work that truly needed to be done–the phone calls, the e-mails, the rainy day list of items on the metaphoric shelf to be done another time.

The snow days of last week allowed a wintry pause to just slow down. And for that, I’m not complaining.

A Visual Guide

The concept of a vision board has become a bit trite, but I do think it works. I wholeheartedly believe that if you dream it and focus your energy on what you want, you can get it. Everything on my board for 2010 came true in some fashion whether it was better communication skills, laughing until my belly hurt with girlfriends and my sisters, beachy and European vacations, taking time to just stop for a moment, or growing my business and in turn making more Ben Franklins. For the past year, the collage of photos lived on my to-do list, making me face those goals daily, which I found as a helpful reminder of the path up ahead.

This year’s board is more of the same, but slightly deeper, despite the superficial feel–ahem, Rolex. Truth be told, that was my late father’s watch, and this year he and I have some healing work that I’ve needed to put a close on for some time now. Each item on my board represents a feeling or something I hope to accomplish. Whatever you believe for 2011, here’s to a fresh focus–may everything you envision manifest.

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,

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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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.