Tulips in Bloom

Day 2: 4/18/10 Brooklyn Botanic Garden

I didn't PhotoShop this picture at all. The colors were that gorgeous.

Hello, old friend.

You may have noticed, but I haven't been taking many pictures lately. In fact, I haven't updated my Flickr since November.

I am not sure why though I would guess it is a combination of A) My computer broke down last fall so uploading pictures isn't as easy as it used to be B) my lack of creative inspiration/motivation/drive, which seems to have gotten worse and C) my super-fancy camera still makes me feel like this.

My friend Nell is a beginner photographer like me, and recently she came up with the brilliant idea to take one picture, every day for one year, in order to force her to practice photography on a daily basis. Then my other friend Emily said, that's a cool idea, I want to do it, too. And when I heard that both of them were doing it, of course, I wanted to join in the fun. Plus this just might be the kick I need to get my creativity in gear.

So for the next year, inspired by my friends, I will take one picture a day, and post them here and here. My main goal is that after one year of practice, I will have some good pictures and eventually feel more like this.


Day 1: 4/17/10, Williamsburg, Brooklyn

It was Record Store Day on Saturday, so I joined Dan on a jaunt to Brooklyn. He flipped through records and I walked around and took pictures. It was a repeat of what we did last year--minus the cupcakes. Though afterwards, I had cupcakes at my friend Julie's new apartment so it all worked out in the end.

Cat calls

I don't get a ton of attention from the opposite sex because I have a 6 foot four inch man standing next to me most of the time. But it never fails that I will be walking home from the gym or a run in the park and a man on the street will look me up and down and say something like, "Hey sexy, how's it going?"

I could understand such as question, if I were in fact dressed up sexy...like maybe if I was wearing a dress or heels or I actually combed my hair. But no, these interactions always seem to happen when I am wearing sweaty workout clothes, hair pulled back into a messy pony tail--pieces sticking out--no make-up. Basically, in a condition where I hope no one will take notice of me.

I would like to know what these men are thinking. Are they making fun of me, or do they genuinely think that grubby sweaty stinky look is sexy--and for some reason, feel the need to express it right then and there?



I usually ignore them, but how do these men expect I should respond to such a question? "Good?" "I am doing good because I am sweaty and sexy?" There has got to be a better way.

Yellow thoughts

Tomorrow is my dress fitting, and I am sad to report that in the last three weeks, there was no miraculous weight loss nor the emergence of six pack abs and chiseled arms. How can that be? While I was 80% on point of eating well and exercising a lot, there was definitely some consumption of wine, bagels with cream cheese, fried chicken, brownies, jelly beans. Not to mention Easter. Dan counted 16 kinds of ham on the dining room table. It was totally worth it!

This week, I strained my left hamstring while doing a sprint on the treadmill. Take a few days off from working out, Dan told me. Take a few days off?! I often have to drag myself to the gym, but suddenly when I could not exercise I could not think of anything else I wanted to do. So I tried this very intense ab routine one day (no legs required) and a yoga class the next day (making sure I did not fully stretch my leg) but by the end of all that, my body just ached all over in not a good way. What did I tell you? Dan said to me. You're overcompensating for your bad leg and now your whole body is messed up.

So I decided that I am taking the weekend off. And I suddenly feel very chunk.

Let's think of something else to put my mind at ease. Something that always makes me happy. Yellow!


Me on Easter, next to my favorite spring flowers. They are so pretty. It was unusually hot that day. This seemed to be the first Easter in years where it wasn't cold and dreary.


I am very happy with the way my yellow wedding invitations turned out. They were designed by my high school friend Michele, who somehow turned all my crazy bride ideas and research into something cohesive and really beautiful. I am so glad I convinced Dan to splurge on the calligraphy. I could have stared at these envelopes all day.

I just discovered that all this time, I could have bought a yellow wedding dress. It's too late now. Besides, I am sure such prettiness made by Vera Wang doesn't come cheap. I can hear my mother breathing a sigh of relief...

Cookie Hangover

Me and my man, Drake.

Run. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Salad. I was doing so well all week until Heather invited me over to Brooklyn on Friday. We went on a mile and a half stroll with the Drake-man for what Heather called a "life-changing sandwich" at Brooklyn Bread. I had the Italian sandwich on the crustiest, warmest bread ever and yes, it was amazing. I tortured myself on our walk back by peeking into all the cute bakeries and pastry shops we walked by, but I stayed strong.

Then I noticed a place called Chip Shop, which Heather said had fried everything....even fried Twix bars. Fried what??? Now that sounded waaaaaaaaay too good to miss, so we brought the baby into a bar and downed some fried Twinkies and fried Snickers bar. (It was good, but nothing more than glorified funnel cake).


Bottle, check. Beer, check. Fried Snickers and twinkie, double check.


All smiles! Look how much Drake's grown since my last carriage photo!

That night, Dan and I met up with Adam and Nell for a meal at their new favorite restaurant, The RedHead. The place is known for its fried chicken and New Orleans style cuisine, so how could we resist but to eat heartily and happily.

The next day, my former roommates Meagan and Julie came over for our monthly dinner. For the last year, we have been hosting dinners at each other's apartments as a way to eat well and have a regimented time to see each other. Otherwise, the time flies by and we never see each other. It's been working out great, and I like to catch up with the girls on a regular basis.

I decided to make a butternut squash lasagna, salad, garlic bread and for dessert....chocolate chip cookies, my favorite. It's been so long since I had some homemade cookies in my house that I went a little crazy. I ate them while I made them. I ate them while the girls were over for dinner. I ate them when they left. I must of had like 20 cookies in one day.

The next day, I felt absolutely awful. I had the worst cookie hangover of all time. I had no motivation to do anything except sit on my couch and zone out. Even my head hurt. It was terrible. Then Dan started eating the rest of the cookies and I wanted more cookies. I actually started to feel better after eating the cookies, just like an alcoholic feels better after one drink even when hungover. I was planning to throw them away Sunday night but there was nothing but crumbs left.

While I am not particularly proud of our piggy ways this weekend, especially since I just posted about how I have to have crazy discipline in the next few weeks, I have lost a lot of weight since January. My jeans are so baggy that yesterday, just for fun (and to see if I could do it), I pulled them down without unbuttoning or unzipping them. It was sort of weird (Dan rolled his eyes at me), but I have to say, it felt pretty good.

Monday is a new day. Run. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Salad.

UPDATE: I weighed myself at the gym and I have lost 7 pounds since January!

Three weeks until my wedding dress fitting.

Until then:

Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.

Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga. Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges. Yoga.

Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad.

Chocolate cake. Mmmmmm.......chocolate cake.

Perhaps another slice?

Church day

With no disrespect to the Irish (I love the Irish!), I really hate St. Patrick's Day. It has got to be my least favorite holiday. Call me boring, but I have never found the appeal of wearing green antennae shamrocks and chugging green tinted beer at ten in the morning. Corn beef and cabbage? Gross. The city becomes downright obnoxious on this day. It basically stops traffic everywhere for the parade, and when you try to walk anywhere, you get entangled in groups of drunk, green-shirt wearing young folk spilling out of bars. By the end of the day, you have to dodge their puke stains on the sidewalks and listen to them screaming for no good reason. You may think I am just getting old, but I have always felt this way, even when I was 20 years old and spent the holiday in Dublin, Ireland. So usually when it comes to St. Patrick's Day, I just stay home and do my best to avoid it. Maybe I will don a green sweater or eat a green sprinkled cupcake. But that's as far as my celebration goes.

But this year, Dan wanted to celebrate. Actually, Dan decided that the year would not be complete if we did not go to Gaelic mass on St. Patrick's Day. So he put it on our 100 things to do this year list. That's right. For St. Patrick's Day, we would celebrate by going to church. And we will not understand one word because it's all spoken in Gaelic. Who needs green beer when you've got holy communion? And some people think we're not fun!

I admit I was not particularly excited about this task, just as I feel those Sundays when Dan drags me to church (here we were on a Wednesday!), but it was fine. The church was filled with old-school Irish people who all seemed to know each other, and they handed out pamphlets so you could follow along in English. The mass was certainly enhanced by the bag piper, because really, everything is better when there's a bag piper. You did get a sense of community in there, an Irish pride that seemed genuine (and not a get drunk ploy), and so the whole experience made me appreciate the holiday just a little bit more. But don't expect me to be back next year.


Dan in front of St Agnes Church in midtown.


Me checking out the bag piper.