January 4, 2011
Photo of the Week
I've decided that Tuesdays will be Photo of the Week day. Why? Because this is my blog and I can do whatever I want to do. And because I have a shiny new Nikon that I like to play with. This week's photo (and, let's be honest, probably most week's photos because my cats are ridiculously photogenic and incredible convenient) is of the man of the house, Syd, helping us unwrap a little Christmas cheer.
January 3, 2011
Letting Go
I promise that not every entry in January will be about reflection and new beginnings, but it's relevant and it's what I spend the majority of my time thinking about as of late, so, hey, I'm going with it.
Thanks to a Groupon deal, I tried a new yoga class at a relatively new studio in Durham yesterday. For me, yoga is a deeply personal practice and yet I'm heavily influenced by the person instructing the class. If I don't connect with the instructor in some way, the class is nothing more than a melange of stick figure poses and heavy breathing. I look for something more in my yoga than simply stretching and a few deep breaths. I want to connect, to reflect, to challenge and to triumph. I want to move and breath with intention. And even though my intentions change (sometimes my intent is relaxation, sometimes strength, sometimes it's a practice in patience and acceptance), I look for connection to myself, the instructor and to those around me with each class I attend.
Yoga is so many things and that is a subject for another blog. Suffice it to say that I get a lot out of it and I'm glad I chose to try this new class on the second day of the new year. The instructor began the class with an personal reflection exercise. She asked us to reflect on the past year, specifically on something that we would like to change or do differently in the coming year. We wrote our reflection on a small piece of paper and placed it underneath our mats with the intention of letting go of whatever is on that piece of paper as we continued with our practice. With every breath I let go a small piece of what was written on that scrap of paper and found my mantra, or theme, for the new year -- let go.
For me, 2011 will be a year of letting go. Letting go of the past and harmful or destructive thoughts and behavior. Letting go of anger, greed, impatience, and control of things I cannot change. Letting go of worry for things I cannot control. Letting go of limits and anything holding me back. Letting go of doubt, judgment, fear and criticism. Because letting go also invites so much in, 2011 will also be a year of patience, kindness, forgiveness, love, and joy. It will be a year of peace that comes from acceptance. In my office hangs a picture of me on New Year's Day several years ago, sitting on a snowy bank overlooking the deep blues of Lake Michigan meeting the crisp blue of a winter's day. It's a picture of serenity, reflection and beauty and the perfect representation of what I resolve to bring to 2011.
Letting go is not just a mantra for the new year, it's a practice for every day; for every new moment is an opportunity for a new beginning.
Thanks to a Groupon deal, I tried a new yoga class at a relatively new studio in Durham yesterday. For me, yoga is a deeply personal practice and yet I'm heavily influenced by the person instructing the class. If I don't connect with the instructor in some way, the class is nothing more than a melange of stick figure poses and heavy breathing. I look for something more in my yoga than simply stretching and a few deep breaths. I want to connect, to reflect, to challenge and to triumph. I want to move and breath with intention. And even though my intentions change (sometimes my intent is relaxation, sometimes strength, sometimes it's a practice in patience and acceptance), I look for connection to myself, the instructor and to those around me with each class I attend.
Yoga is so many things and that is a subject for another blog. Suffice it to say that I get a lot out of it and I'm glad I chose to try this new class on the second day of the new year. The instructor began the class with an personal reflection exercise. She asked us to reflect on the past year, specifically on something that we would like to change or do differently in the coming year. We wrote our reflection on a small piece of paper and placed it underneath our mats with the intention of letting go of whatever is on that piece of paper as we continued with our practice. With every breath I let go a small piece of what was written on that scrap of paper and found my mantra, or theme, for the new year -- let go.
For me, 2011 will be a year of letting go. Letting go of the past and harmful or destructive thoughts and behavior. Letting go of anger, greed, impatience, and control of things I cannot change. Letting go of worry for things I cannot control. Letting go of limits and anything holding me back. Letting go of doubt, judgment, fear and criticism. Because letting go also invites so much in, 2011 will also be a year of patience, kindness, forgiveness, love, and joy. It will be a year of peace that comes from acceptance. In my office hangs a picture of me on New Year's Day several years ago, sitting on a snowy bank overlooking the deep blues of Lake Michigan meeting the crisp blue of a winter's day. It's a picture of serenity, reflection and beauty and the perfect representation of what I resolve to bring to 2011.
Letting go is not just a mantra for the new year, it's a practice for every day; for every new moment is an opportunity for a new beginning.
January 2, 2011
All That Glitters is not Gold
"525,600 minutes... how do you measure a year?"
2010 was a year of challenges and adventures, laughter and tears, gain and loss. It was a year that demanded strides in patience, kindness, understanding and forgiveness. I would venture to guess that 2011 will be similar in those respects because what is life other than struggles and triumphs, conflicts and resolutions, loss and gain, learning from our mistakes, and, above all, love?
I put a lot of stock into New Year's Eve and how it will affect my year. I will admit that there is far too much pressure to have a magical New Year's Eve full of sparkles (it's no wonder so many couples get engaged and married on this night) that the expectations can be tough to live up to. While I think a black dress affair would be spectacularly fun to do once, I don't need glitter and fanfare to usher in a new year. Growing up, my family spent New Year's Eve at home because it was safer to be in our living room then on the roads and that's the philosophy I've kept with me. The perfect New Year's Eve is an intimate gathering of people I love, playing games, sharing stories and ringing in the new year with a few noisemakers and a toast of Asti Spumante (though I'm glad to say I've graduated to much finer champagnes in my 30s).
But this year I tried something different. Maybe it's because I was miles away from friends and loved ones or because last year Nicole and I spent a quiet New Year's Eve at home that was both lovely and lonely or maybe it's because it's a sign of things to come in 2011. This year we accepted an invitation to a party at an acquaintance's and rang in the new year with great folks. We played games, chatted about movies, families, and the holidays, and ran around the house frantically waving towels when the smoke from the fireplace set the entire house on alarm. We made fun of Jersey Shore and some of us valiantly defended a rapidly declining but nevertheless spirited Dick Clark. We watched the ball drop, cheered, sipped champagne and kissed our loved ones. It was a night of new friendships and new beginnings, the perfect sentiments as I began a year that is new in more ways than one.
2010 was a year of challenges and adventures, laughter and tears, gain and loss. It was a year that demanded strides in patience, kindness, understanding and forgiveness. I would venture to guess that 2011 will be similar in those respects because what is life other than struggles and triumphs, conflicts and resolutions, loss and gain, learning from our mistakes, and, above all, love?
I put a lot of stock into New Year's Eve and how it will affect my year. I will admit that there is far too much pressure to have a magical New Year's Eve full of sparkles (it's no wonder so many couples get engaged and married on this night) that the expectations can be tough to live up to. While I think a black dress affair would be spectacularly fun to do once, I don't need glitter and fanfare to usher in a new year. Growing up, my family spent New Year's Eve at home because it was safer to be in our living room then on the roads and that's the philosophy I've kept with me. The perfect New Year's Eve is an intimate gathering of people I love, playing games, sharing stories and ringing in the new year with a few noisemakers and a toast of Asti Spumante (though I'm glad to say I've graduated to much finer champagnes in my 30s).
But this year I tried something different. Maybe it's because I was miles away from friends and loved ones or because last year Nicole and I spent a quiet New Year's Eve at home that was both lovely and lonely or maybe it's because it's a sign of things to come in 2011. This year we accepted an invitation to a party at an acquaintance's and rang in the new year with great folks. We played games, chatted about movies, families, and the holidays, and ran around the house frantically waving towels when the smoke from the fireplace set the entire house on alarm. We made fun of Jersey Shore and some of us valiantly defended a rapidly declining but nevertheless spirited Dick Clark. We watched the ball drop, cheered, sipped champagne and kissed our loved ones. It was a night of new friendships and new beginnings, the perfect sentiments as I began a year that is new in more ways than one.
January 1, 2011
Peas and Greens and a Prosperous New Year
Happy New Year, all! 2011 is here and it started off well because once again this year I honored a New Year's Day tradition of serving black-eyed peas and collard greens. How did this Northern girl come to make this traditional Southern dish? I may be Michigan born and raised, but I've got the South in my blood. Rumor has it there was a Ballance on the Mayflower (more research to be done on this later, but apparently it was in National Geographic... a dream come true, my name in a NatGeo!). Once off the ship, my kin decided that Virginia looked like a nice place to settle. Now, I'm not up on much of Ballance genealogy, but I do know that my grandfather's family owned much of Princess Ann County, Virginia. I'm not especially proud to relay that we owned plantations and slaves, but it's part of my history and I own it, for better or worse. And seeing as how my father was born in Virginia (even though he only lived there a few short years) I had the Southern influences growing up - most of them related to food! Spoon bread (with lots of butter), red eye gravy (made with coffee of all things), country ham (salty, salty), biscuits and cream (heavenly), chitlins (not a fan), collard greens (cooked with bacon and eaten with a dash of vinegar - again, not a fan), fried catfish (or any fish for that matter), and sweet tea (not the same as adding sugar to iced tea.) Sunday mornings we'd make big "country" breakfasts and visiting grandma Ballance always meant eating some Southern specialty.
So really it's no surprise that I continue in the Southern eating tradition by making black-eyed peas and collard greens on New Year's Day. Dad always said we ate it for good luck, but it wasn't until recently that I wanted to know how and why such a tradition was started. My research turned up only one fact: that no one really knows, but there are plenty of theories. Most Southerners will trace it back to African-American slave traditions. Whether they cooked the peas and greens because that's what was available and cheap or because the peas are said to resemble coins and the greens to resemble cash and bring money in the new year is uncertain. Some have traced the tradition back even further to Jewish settlers in Georgia in the 1700s.
Originally made with ham hocks or "jowls", I never cared much for the traditionally prepared black-eyed peas and collards so the past couple of years I've embarked on the hunt for my favorite way to prepare the New Year's Day meal. Steering away from any pork influence, I sought a dish instead flavored with garlic and spices. Spicy and savory was my goal for this "money" dish and this year I hit the jackpot. I cheated a little and bought canned black-eyed peas but went for fresh collards, onion and garlic sauteed in olive oil and spices. Added a dash (or ten) of hot sauce and voila! Prosperity was served...
With our tissues handy and our sinuses cleared, we feasted with hopes of ingesting a year's worth of luck and prosperity. But don't worry if you missed the black-eyed pea and collard green boat this year because I made enough to pass along the good wishes to all my friends and family. Besides, you could always come over next year. :-)
So really it's no surprise that I continue in the Southern eating tradition by making black-eyed peas and collard greens on New Year's Day. Dad always said we ate it for good luck, but it wasn't until recently that I wanted to know how and why such a tradition was started. My research turned up only one fact: that no one really knows, but there are plenty of theories. Most Southerners will trace it back to African-American slave traditions. Whether they cooked the peas and greens because that's what was available and cheap or because the peas are said to resemble coins and the greens to resemble cash and bring money in the new year is uncertain. Some have traced the tradition back even further to Jewish settlers in Georgia in the 1700s.
Originally made with ham hocks or "jowls", I never cared much for the traditionally prepared black-eyed peas and collards so the past couple of years I've embarked on the hunt for my favorite way to prepare the New Year's Day meal. Steering away from any pork influence, I sought a dish instead flavored with garlic and spices. Spicy and savory was my goal for this "money" dish and this year I hit the jackpot. I cheated a little and bought canned black-eyed peas but went for fresh collards, onion and garlic sauteed in olive oil and spices. Added a dash (or ten) of hot sauce and voila! Prosperity was served...
With our tissues handy and our sinuses cleared, we feasted with hopes of ingesting a year's worth of luck and prosperity. But don't worry if you missed the black-eyed pea and collard green boat this year because I made enough to pass along the good wishes to all my friends and family. Besides, you could always come over next year. :-)
December 9, 2010
Comparison Shopping
Sometimes comparing one thing to another is beneficial. Like when you shop for the best price on a camera, search for the best vacation resort for Spring Break, or try on pair of jeans after pair of jeans to find the pair that makes your backside look bodacious. Several websites are devoted to comparing fares, reviews, destinations, schedules and services and, thanks to my incessant need to make the very best decision in every instance, I rarely make a purchase without consulting a few of my favorites. I'm a fan of 99% of comparisons made in the world. Unless it's a case of me comparing myself to someone else. Then we have a problem.
My wise-beyond-her-years friend Mary, who is so timely with her thought-provoking Facebook statuses as of late, posted a quote today that I can't get out of my head. It said, "Comparison is the thief of joy." Wow. If only I had this in my pocket for a recent dinner with friends when I allowed my joy to be stolen.
When the conversation turned to new adventures and accomplishments everyone had coming in the next few months, rather than share in their excitement, I immediately wallowed in the fact that I had nothing of interest to contribute. No babies being born, no degree programs finished, no new places to live. As I sat there and compared myself to these amazing women, I couldn't find any joy. Not in myself. Not in their excitement. Instead I found more things about which to compare myself. She's skinnier than I am. She's more educated than I am. She's more ambitious. She's more daring. She's more loved.
My ego reared her ugly mug pulling me into the depths of self-loathing and the more I compared myself to my companions, the more ridiculous the comparisons became until I left dinner feeling like a useless piece of you-know-what.
If only I had my trusty new mantra in my pocket. "Comparison is the thief of joy." Right on. So I told my ego to stuff it because while I may not have a shiny new engagement ring or an awesome new job, I have a lot to offer this world!
My wise-beyond-her-years friend Mary, who is so timely with her thought-provoking Facebook statuses as of late, posted a quote today that I can't get out of my head. It said, "Comparison is the thief of joy." Wow. If only I had this in my pocket for a recent dinner with friends when I allowed my joy to be stolen.
When the conversation turned to new adventures and accomplishments everyone had coming in the next few months, rather than share in their excitement, I immediately wallowed in the fact that I had nothing of interest to contribute. No babies being born, no degree programs finished, no new places to live. As I sat there and compared myself to these amazing women, I couldn't find any joy. Not in myself. Not in their excitement. Instead I found more things about which to compare myself. She's skinnier than I am. She's more educated than I am. She's more ambitious. She's more daring. She's more loved.
My ego reared her ugly mug pulling me into the depths of self-loathing and the more I compared myself to my companions, the more ridiculous the comparisons became until I left dinner feeling like a useless piece of you-know-what.
If only I had my trusty new mantra in my pocket. "Comparison is the thief of joy." Right on. So I told my ego to stuff it because while I may not have a shiny new engagement ring or an awesome new job, I have a lot to offer this world!
February 9, 2010
Happy Birthday Volleyball
I wonder if Karch Kiraly, Misty May and Kerri Walsh all get together and throw a birthday party on February 9th every year. Well they should, because if it wasn't for the birth of volleyball on February 9th, 1895, they'd be quite out of luck. Volleyball is said to have been born on this day by William Morgan, a YMCA physical education director in Holyoke, MA. Wow. I didn't know they had YMCAs in 1895! Could you get yourself clean? Could you have a good meal? Could you do whatever you feel?
Morgan invented a game called Mintonette, played indoors with any number of players, that was intended to be similar to basketball, but less rough. Apparently for the, uh, less-than-spring-chickens who regularly hung out at the YMCA. The game was a little different back then. There were nine innings and teams did not have a limit as to the number of times they hit the ball before sending it back over the net. That seems odd... I'm seeing a whole lot of people standing around doing nothing until someone decides to give up the ball so the other team can play.
The first country to adopt volleyball outside of the U.S. - Canada. Makes sense. They needed some indoor sports too for the people who didn't like snow sports. (There are others like me - I know it)
Not sure when and where beach volleyball got its start...more on that later. In the meantime, I'm thinking up ways to celebrate the birth of my favorite sport to play. A volleyball shaped cake? Garland made of netting? Candles shaped like knee pads? Wilson party favors? I can't believe the party stores haven't caught on to this. Someone should alert them. Mark your calendars for next year!
Morgan invented a game called Mintonette, played indoors with any number of players, that was intended to be similar to basketball, but less rough. Apparently for the, uh, less-than-spring-chickens who regularly hung out at the YMCA. The game was a little different back then. There were nine innings and teams did not have a limit as to the number of times they hit the ball before sending it back over the net. That seems odd... I'm seeing a whole lot of people standing around doing nothing until someone decides to give up the ball so the other team can play.
The first country to adopt volleyball outside of the U.S. - Canada. Makes sense. They needed some indoor sports too for the people who didn't like snow sports. (There are others like me - I know it)
Not sure when and where beach volleyball got its start...more on that later. In the meantime, I'm thinking up ways to celebrate the birth of my favorite sport to play. A volleyball shaped cake? Garland made of netting? Candles shaped like knee pads? Wilson party favors? I can't believe the party stores haven't caught on to this. Someone should alert them. Mark your calendars for next year!
GaGa for GooGoo
I have an unhealthy internet relationship. I didn't mean for it to happen, it just did. I find myself going back, several times per day, for my fix. I'm a googlaholic. And I don't wanna be cured!
Did you see google's Parisian Love commercial during this year's super bowl? An entire room of rowdy women drinking beer stopped and grew quiet with every google entry that followed the story of an American falling in love with a Parisian while studying abroad. The search covers long distance relationships, flights to Paris, jobs in Paris, churches and wedding invitations until the final entry "how to assemble a crib." And we all melted. Corny? Yes. But we melted just the same.
The irony of it all is that this 50-second ad could be my life! No, I'm not planning to run off to Paris, but I google pretty darn near everything. You know this about me. I just googled "google super bowl ad" to find out the name of the ad and how long the spot is. Google is an invaluable resource and I sincerely don't know how I existed without it before.
Did you see google's Parisian Love commercial during this year's super bowl? An entire room of rowdy women drinking beer stopped and grew quiet with every google entry that followed the story of an American falling in love with a Parisian while studying abroad. The search covers long distance relationships, flights to Paris, jobs in Paris, churches and wedding invitations until the final entry "how to assemble a crib." And we all melted. Corny? Yes. But we melted just the same.
The irony of it all is that this 50-second ad could be my life! No, I'm not planning to run off to Paris, but I google pretty darn near everything. You know this about me. I just googled "google super bowl ad" to find out the name of the ad and how long the spot is. Google is an invaluable resource and I sincerely don't know how I existed without it before.
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