Staying warm.

Well, it appears to be winter. You know how I know? Because yesterday I saw a dog wearing shoes. I also saw some pigeons eating a slice of pizza, but I'm not really sure what that means. In any case, our lovely mild Fall left us rather abruptly, with the average temperature dropping 40 degrees within about two days. It was sad.

Thankfully, there are ways to stay warm that don't necessarily involve watching Glee in my pajamas and eating ice cream (not that I have a problem with that). For example, a couple weekends ago our stake had our annual YSA film festival. Most of the entries were predictably mediocre, but one stood out as a crowd pleaser and won the final prize:

Twilight Years from Tom on Vimeo.

It's also party season, which I happen to be a fan of. In addition to our company holiday soiree and various dinner engagements, we went to a Roaring 20s themed Christmas party recently. Pretty much everyone got decked out and looked fabulous, which was a lot of fun. Our friend Joshua has his own photography business and was there taking glamour shots:



All shots can be found here.
And a week from tomorrow I can look forward to thawing out a bit more (and eating my weight in homemade candy) when I fly back to California for a week and a half. Until then, I'll be keeping a close eye on the behavior of the neighborhood animals.

Running for pie.

At the beginning of October, around the time I discovered I would get to go home for Thanksgiving, Sarah and I talked about finding a race to do together while we were there. Others caught on and things got a little out of hand, with the end result being that last Thursday morning, 8 of us participated in the Silicon Valley Turkey Trot. Most of us did the 10K race, while Sarah's husband Joel ran the 5K and two mini-redheads rocked the kids' races (and got MEDALS, which I am totally not at all jealous about).

The weeks leading up to the race included many mass emails back and forth with updates on mileage and training. It was fun getting each other hyped up and also talking trash (obligatory). It all culminated in the glory of Thanksgiving day, running alongside some of my faves with the promise of major gluttony later on.



Totally gangsta.
Disgustingly, David smoked all of us and finished first despite not having trained at all (unless you count going on one 2-mile run a few weeks before the race, which I do not). But we all finished under our goal time of an hour and looked fabulous doing it. Special props to my dad who, though he is in a two-man biker gang with my mom, had never run more than a couple miles before he started training for this race.

We were rewarded handsomely with a little of this action:


There may also have been mass quantities of pie involved. My stomach had been training for this day just as much as my legs had. Life is about balance, right?

More pictures here.

Quarter century.

In my first week of being 25, I got called "ma'am" by an NYU student. In my second week of being 25, I'm going to see this.

So I guess you could say it's basically a wash so far.


Birthday week kicked off with a ladies' brunch followed by mani-pedis. It also featured some lovely gifts and cards, as well as listening to small children shout at me on the telephone. Another highlight was the church speed dating activity, in which I managed to talk to at least two guys about Lord of the Rings, and told another one about the Titanic website I had when I was 13. One guy was in grad school for Mapmaking, so be aware that that is still apparently a thing.

The next weekend, Birthdaypalooza was rounded out with a joint party with my roommates, who are also November babies. It was really fun and we got to spend the rest of the weekend eating leftover chips and dip. It was a birthday miracle!


Getting older is kind of a fire hazard.

Central Park in Fall.

Last weekend my friend Zach and I went to watch the New York Marathon. I'd kept hearing about how cool it was, and how it was such an event--it goes through all the boroughs, and people in every neighborhood come out to the streets to watch. Apparently in Brooklyn, people start getting drunk at like 10am and then go cheer on the runners.

Also, I really liked the ad campaign that ran in the weeks leading up to it:




We had a great spot on Fifth Avenue, right at the Mile 23 marker. Since there are 40,000 people who run the marathon, they break it into several waves of runners. The wheelchair racers start first, followed by the professional women, then the professional men, and then three waves of regular runners. No spectators are even allowed at the start because there are so many people, but I can't imagine how much energy and adrenaline there must be there.


We got there in time to see some of the lead runners come through, including the two first place men (pictured above), who were neck and neck at mile 23. The American guy (on the left) ended up winning. USA! By the way, these guys are running 5-minute miles. For 26 MILES. I doubt I could have kept up with them for ONE if I'd just started running alongside them.

My fave.

At first, the runners were sparse, so Zach and I used the lag time in between to wax poetic about athleticism and the triumph of the human spirit. We were also amused by the people who had brought Red Vines to hand out to the runners.

The masses.

Lots of people had their names and/or countries on their shirts, so we had fun shouting things like "Way to be, Tom!" and "Jennifer, you are very good-looking!" to random strangers. Anyway, it was awesome, and this is definitely a new tradition I want to keep. We've already got big plans for next year, including camp chairs, snacks, and a boom box playing "The Final Countdown" to get the runners through the home stretch.

Afterwards, I wandered through Central Park for a while, enjoying the fall colors.




I can't say it was an entirely terrible way to spend a Sunday morning.

Flat Ainsleigh.

Last week I had a visitor. While getting the mail one night, I found manila envelope with my name scrawled across it in slightly crooked lettering. I opened it, and there she was: Flat Ainsleigh.

Sarah had told me a few days earlier that Ainsleigh's class had read Flat Stanley and that they were supposed to send a flat version of themselves to someone for a week, as part of their Geography unit. Naturally, as I live in the coolest place of anyone she knows, I was the chosen one for her adventure. I was instructed to take Flat Ains with me everywhere I went for a week and write about what we did before sending her back.



Commuting.



Ainsleigh taking my calls.



Saturday brunch with the girls.





After the Poland Spring Marathon Week Kickoff Race in Central Park. It's important to stretch.



Times Square. Normally I avoid this place like the plague, but it was her last night in the city so I made an exception. Notice the expertly captured taxi with the Broadway billboards in the background. I pulled out all the stops for my little paper friend.



Flat Ainsleigh was a big fan of M&M World.



We had a grand time together, and oddly enough I kind of missed the little paper doll after I sent her back. Luckily, in about 3 1/2 weeks I'll get to see the 3-D version over Thanksgiving, and I probably won't have to keep checking my bag to make sure she's not getting smooshed.

Wanda.

I recently confessed to my mom something kind of strange. I have vivid memories of being sick, and being so happy when she would put her cheek to my forehead to feel if I had a fever. I remember how soft her skin felt, and even now, the memory conjures feelings of comfort and reassurance.


Happy Birthday to my best mom, who always makes things better. When I felt under the weather during her visit a few weeks ago, I asked her to feel my forehead with her cheek, for old times' sake. I'm pretty sure she cured me. The Cheek's still got it, and so does she. Happy Birthday, Moom.

Gift horse.

One of the shows I do music licensing for happens to be a famous talk show. Today at work, I received a package that came with a nice note from the show's music supervisors, thanking me sincerely for all my help. I eagerly peered inside to see what they'd sent, and was seized by a fit of laughter at the irony. Oprah sent me wine.

I promptly handed the bottle to my coworker who had handled the show before me, as I'm sure he will enjoy it more than I can. I wouldn't be surprised if he has a very merry Thursday afternoon. But as the time of corporate holiday gift-giving looms nearer, my question to you is this: would it be ungrateful of me to say that, in lieu of more alcohol, I want tickets to her Favorite Things episode?

Back on track.

Oh, hello there.

Well, Autumn is here and I couldn't be happier, because it's my favorite season. It's not cold yet, but it's getting cooler, which means boots and cardigans and not sweating in the subway. Summer in the city can be especially, um, rank, so I'm enjoying taking deep breaths of crisp, cool air.

To highlight the awesome beginning of the season, my parents came to visit last weekend for the first time since they moved me out here almost two years ago (I still don't really believe I've been out here that long). It was really fun to have them here, especially since last time I was still one of the tourists and now I push them over on the sidewalk.

My dad had business in town on Thursday, and my mom flew in later that night. They came to visit my office on Friday and met some of my coworkers and my boss (she later commented that they are "such a good-looking couple" and I had to agree). We had a dinner of ridiculous portion sizes followed by delicious cheesecake at the Carnegie Deli, and went to see "Billy Elliot." I thought it was pretty good, but not as amazing as I'd heard. There were some good numbers but it was a bit long, and while the kid playing Billy was a great dancer, he didn't have a very good voice. Still, I was glad I got to see it.

Saturday we started off with a trip to the Natural History museum to see the new planetarium show that's narrated by Whoopi Goldberg. I think we all learned a lot from Whoopi. We walked through Central Park for a while before picking up some lunch and heading to a matinee of "Bye Bye Birdie." I already had monumentally high hopes for the show, since it currently stars John Stamos (his bio in the program buried his Full House credits somewhere in the middle, which I thought was a travesty). But the rest of the cast was excellent and I loved the show--very cute and a lot of fun to watch.


Later that night, we went to dinner in Brooklyn at Peter Luger, which according to Zagat is the best steakhouse in New York City. To my chagrin, I had felt a little queasy all day (possibly a side effect of the flu shot I had gotten on Thursday), but I powered through and was able to at least sample some of the deliciousness. We all agreed that Woflgang's was better, though, and we topped off the day with a showing of The Invention of Lying.

On Sunday before heading home, they came up to my neighborhood to get some of the local flavor (the flavor being that of the Dominican Republic). After checking out my apartment, we went to breakfast and I showed them around a bit, although they declined to attend the Medieval Festival that was happening in the park that day. We did get to see some people walking around in chain mail, though, so it wasn't a total loss.

It was a fabulous weekend, and it's always nice to have your parents tell you how awesome you are (though I can only assume my siblings haven't experienced this nearly as much as I have). I had a great time, and look forward to going home for Thanksgiving in a few weeks!

Procrastination.

Things I'm doing instead of blogging about our Orlando trip:

Enjoying the recently-reduced heat and humidity (we'd finally gotten about two weeks' worth of real summer, and I'm totally over it--no more sweating in the subway, please).
Trying on clothes I can't afford.
Repeatedly enjoying the amazing hilarity that is Heidi Montag's Miss Universe performance.
Playing Word Warp on my iPhone.
Watching Mad Men.
Being jealous of my friend's awesome new apartment on the Upper East Side (and eating takeout in said apartment while "helping" her move in).
Going to Ellis Island.
Re-reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Looking up airfare to London, Sydney, and the Bahamas.
Anticipating my parents' visit next month.
Eating popcorn.

35 years.

For their 30th anniversary, they took us to Kauai. For their 35th, they took us to DisneyWorld. I'm already looking into a Mediterranean cruise for 2014. But besides taking us on bitchin' vacays, my parents have spent the last 35 years building a family, and showing us a wonderful example of what a marriage should be. I know that my family's great relationships and the fun we always have together--whether sailing off the Na Pali Coast or sitting around eating popcorn--is a credit to Mark and Wanda. So Happy Anniversary, mom and dad, and thanks for everything. Especially the bitchin' vacays.

Excitement.

Am I too old to have had trouble sleeping the night before a vacation to Disneyworld? In a few hours, 15 Ostlers will converge on Orlando, including a niece whose 4th birthday party will be a lunch with the princesses at Magic Kingdom.

We're going to have some fun.

Pappy.

Do you know what this is?


It may look like a plain yellow legal pad to you. But anyone in my family knows that in the hands of my dad, it becomes magical.

My dad has probably used thousands of these during his lifetime--often for work or keeping track of daily tasks. But there is another, wondrous thing that he uses it for: planning. Anytime there's a holiday or trip coming up, you can find one of these bad boys filled with my dad's scrawling handwriting. Pages of lists, excursion ideas, sites, charts, timetables, possibly even diagrams designed to maximize the enjoyment of everyone involved. He loves coming up with great ideas that ensure everyone has fun. In my family, when you see the yellow pad, you know amazing things are about to happen.

Today I wish a happy birthday to my favorite travel agent (and career advisor, and trivia guru, and hug provider, and arch nemesis), knowing that any enjoyment he gets out of his celebrations today likely pales in comparison to the pleasure he is currently finding in finishing up the planning for our upcoming family vacation extravaganza.


It commences in just 3 days, and the excitement is palpable.

Temptation.

Sometimes I think the Mister Softee guy knowingly parks his truck in the most enticing spot on my run--at the top of a mile-long steady incline--purely to torment me.

Two thumbs up.

Dear Fox Searchlight,

You produce good movies. (And apparently are also behind the upcoming Arrested Development movie. I approve.) This one was no exception:

The only problem is that now I have an almost uncontrollable urge to cut my bangs again. But I'm pretty sure I still won't look like Zooey Deschanel.

Thrill ride.

My trip home was lovely. By 3am PDT on Wednesday I had been up for almost 48 hours, with a cumulative 5 hours of sleep in the interim. Totally worth it. The rest of the week was spent lazing around, eating lots of red meat (thanks Mom!), shopping, and being silly with the fam.

As if to make up for my previous experience, my flight home on Sunday went swimmingly. I had a window seat, the movie was enjoyable, I had brought plenty of snacks, and we landed a half hour early. I had booked a seat on a SuperShuttle to take me home, since we were originally supposed to land at 10:30pm. And given my track record with air travel, I wanted an alternative to the 2+ hour subway ride home that wasn't a $60 cab ride.

My driver, a small Senegalese man, picked up myself and another passenger at our gate. Though we spent the next half hour driving from terminal to terminal picking up 8 more people (four of whom spoke animated French with the driver), I thought that as long as I was home by midnight, it would be worth it.

And then we hit the Van Wyck. They say nobody's ever beaten the Van Wyck, but our driver came as close as anyone ever has. He was weaving across lanes, swerving out to the shoulder to bypass lanes of traffic. He was cutting around cars turning onto off-ramps, and veering back into traffic mere inches in front of another car's bumper. My fellow passengers gasped and clutched their seat belts as tightly as possible. The French guy next to me was swearing under his breath and documenting everything on his camcorder. I can only hope the video is now somewhere on YouTube.

Being the farthest uptown, I was the last passenger dropped off. We pulled up to my building at 12:03am. Touché, SuperShuttle.

Dear Air Travel: Why do you hate me?

I was originally booked on a flight leaving JFK at the very reasonable hour of 11am. I was awakened around 2:45 this morning, though, by the incessant buzzing of my phone. I ignored it but a few minutes later it buzzed again. I stared groggily at the 800 number on the screen and, assuming it was some robocaller trying to discuss my nonexistent car warranty, tried to silence it. Thankfully, between my half-asleep state and the fact that it's a new phone, I accidentally answered the call. An automated voice proclaimed that it was calling from American Airlines and that my flight had been cancelled.

Now I was wide awake. Robovoice informed me that I'd been rebooked on a flight connecting through Boston and arriving in San Francisco at 11:30 pm. This itinerary would cause me to miss an extremely urgent appointment: the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince with Becca and Krissy.

"To accept these changes, say 'yes'. To reject them, say 'no'."

"Nooooooooooooo!"

I got an operator and found out that my only other option was the flight leaving at 7:05 am. I took it, and called Becca to let her know when to pick me up. By that time, it was about 3 am and I realized I might as well get up, as I'd need to leave for the airport in about an hour anyway (I heart public transportation).

I dozed as well as I could on the plane (considering I had an aisle seat that was right next to the bathroom... I also passed on watching Race to Witch Mountain) and was able to take a 3-4 hour nap when we got home. Assuming I'm still on East Coast time, this midnight showing will be starting at 3 am my time. These are the things I go through for Harry Potter.

All I'm saying is, if I'm ever in a job interview and I have to give an example of my dedication and perseverance, this is the story I'm going to tell.

Patriotism.

Is there anything more American than fighting massive crowds at Coney Island to watch a guy cram 68 hot dogs into his face in 10 minutes? I submit to you that there is not.


This was my first NYC 4th of July, since I went to Denver for the holiday last year, so I didn't really know what to expect. After a flurry of last-minute text messages to different people about what our plans were, a group of us decided to go to Coney Island for the sporting event that ranks just under Wimbeldon on the prestige scale: the International Hot Dog Eating Contest. It was a truly awe-inspiring experience; thousands of fans chanted "USA! USA!" while San Jose, CA native Joey Chestnut obliterated both his own world record and second-place finisher Takeru Kobayashi. Patriotism at its finest.


Afterwards, we went to Battery Park (on the southern tip of Manhattan) for a free concert by Conor Oberst and Jenny Lewis. We grabbed some lunch and a sweet spot in the sun-dappled shade, and spent a few divine hours listening to indie rock and lazing around in the warm breeze.


As afternoon turned to evening, we headed uptown and walked toward the river. The West Side Highway had been shut down to make room for people to watch the fireworks, so we scouted out a place. It was kind of freaky walking down this huge expanse of deserted highway, like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. We found a good (and surprisingly uncrowded) spot at the crest of a hill, and watched the sunset while we waited for the rest of our group to join us. (My friend Joe and his friends had come up from DC for the day, which just proves that July 4th in NYC is even better than in our nation's capital.) Darkness fell, and we watched as dazzling fireworks were shot off from six barges along the Hudson river. It was the perfect end to an amazing day.

More pictures here.

In passing.

"I love your red hair."

"Thanks."

"Dude, she actually answered! That's amazing! [shouting] You're amazing, redhead!"


If only all men had the discriminating taste and high expectations of the two I passed on my way to the library.

Mile high.

So, a few weeks ago I went to Denver to be with my peeps. There are not nearly enough redheads in New York, so sometimes I start having withdrawals. Luckily, a visit to the Hill household filled my quota and then some.


Sarah outdid herself cooking delicious meals and fantastic desserts (do you think a frozen key lime pie would mail well?). I outdid myself eating everything in sight. The kids kept me busy with paper dolls, stomp rockets, and quality time on the trampoline. I learned that Dono's favorite question is, "What should we play now, Wor-uh?" Sarah dragged me on a couple of early (for me) morning runs, thinking that between my having just run a half marathon and her being acclimated to the high altitude, we'd be about equal. (She was right.) She also found me a couple of great running tank tops on clearance at Target (which came in handy last night when I went running for the first time since, um, my trip to Denver--I was inspired after watching Run Fat Boy Run over the weekend). We had family over on Sunday and I got to catch up with my cousin Lisa and see her adorable little boy for the first time. My record skyrocketed in Wii Bowling, and I discovered a new favorite Cold Stone Creation (thanks Sarah). Ainsleigh was sick for a lot of the weekend, but still looked cute wearing an ice pack as a hat. Gemma crawled out of her pants, and I still laugh thinking about it. Dono learned how to do a flip on the trampoline:



It was delightful. And at the end of the long weekend, they sent me back to New York with a 100-degree fever. But I guess that's the risk you take when you visit a house that's crammed full of fiery redheads.

More pictures (with a shockingly high kid-to-adult subject ratio) can be found here.

Confidence.

When I was younger, I remember my dad telling us about an idea he'd had for a movie while he was driving home from work. I won't divulge the details of the film (which I still remember to this day, including the title) because someone would undoubtedly steal the idea and make millions off of it. But I vividly remember thinking it sounded like the greatest movie I'd ever heard of. At the time, I told my dad he should make the movie, and he laughed and dismissed the idea. This utterly baffled me. Because in my mind, my dad could do anything. Why shouldn't he become an overnight filmmaking sensation?

As far back as I can remember, my dad has always been able to inspire that complete confidence in his knowledge and abilities. He has a seemingly endless store of trivia and history knowledge, he knows the best solution to any problem, and he has an excellent vocabulary. I may never know how he got to be so smart, but I will definitely enjoy continuing to reap the benefits.

Happy Father's Day, Pappy.

Rx.

Tonight's grocery list:
NyQuil
tissues
chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream

Tonight's entertainment:
So You Think You Can Dance

All together, I'd say that's definitive prescription for any illness. I totally should have been a doctor.

Bacon.

You guys, I promise this is the last of the birthday posts (until, um, August).


I'm heading to the airport in a little bit to go spend a long weekend in Denver at a veritable redhead convention. But there is one very important member of the redhead brigade that will not be joining us, unfortunately. So, what can I say about Becca that I haven't already said? When she came to visit me in New York, she stopped by my office one day and met some of my coworkers. At one point, we both laughed at something, and Brian just looked at us and said, "That was creepy. You guys laugh exactly the same." And that pretty much sums us up, I think. Becca and I are very different in a lot of ways (though people often claim we look like twins), which made sharing a room for the first 14 or so years pretty interesting. But she has been and always will be my kindred spirit and best friend. She is crazy, loud, thoughtful, big-hearted, and spirited, and she turns 22 today. Happy birthday, little girl!

Half marathon.

10 weeks of training
a 5:30 am wake-up call
3+ hours on the subway (round trip)
one wicked blister
3 cups of Gatorade
13.1 miles
one tired girl

This is what victory looks like.

Dave.

I remember having a conversation with Allison once where she joked that the reason she and Dave got married was because no one else would "get" either of them. While that may be true, it's great to be around them and see how much fun they have together. Dave shares Allison's mellowness (it's a word) and love of being silly. He can seem quiet and reserved but also has a weird sense of humor that presents itself at opportune (and inopportune) moments, with hilarious results. Dave made me grits the first time I met him, and though I may have never eaten them again since that time, I've always found him to be an excellent addition to our family. Happy Birthday, Southern Dave!

Memorial Day weekend.

"So I just landed, and now I'm like... trafficking? Is that drugs or is that planes?"

The girl in the seat behind me drawling into her phone was the perfect start to my stay in Charlotte. The night only got better as Allison picked me up and we headed straight to Bojangles to get some fried chicken and biscuits. And of course, the rest of the weekend was equally fabulous. We relaxed, we played, we laughed, and we ate until I began to wonder if I'd ever feel hungry again. It was nice getting out of the city and enjoying country roads, huge grocery store aisles, and greenery everywhere. Emaline was in top form, finding ample opportunities to butter me up for future birthdays and Christmases ("Aunt Laura, I'm so glad you came to visit me!" "I'm going to be so sad when you go back to the York, Aunt Laura!"). We had a great time reading books and drawing and running around, and I was sad to leave. But we consoled ourselves with the knowledge that we'll be seeing each other again in August when the whole fam goes to Disneyworld. And while Emaline might not actually understand what that is, she definitely knows it's something to get excited about.



More pictures can be found here.

Holiday weekend.

I'm off to North Carolina for a weekend of sunshine, fried food, strawberry-picking, hugging, and lots of silliness. I hope you all will be spending your holiday weekend in a similarly delightful fashion.


I am coming to get you, little girl!

Krissy.

Most people don't know that I actually have four sisters. Okay, so one of them isn't actually my "biological" sister, if you want to bother with technicalities like that, but she has been my best friend for 20 years. So I think the honorary title is deserved.


Krissy's family moved in next door when I was five years old, and most of my favorite memories involve her and Becca and our ridiculous shenanigans. The bedroom I shared with Becca faced Krissy's across our respective side yards, and we spent countless nights shouting to each other through our windows, discussing plans and sharing secrets that surely the rest of the neighborhood found fascinating.


The three of us spent summers playing kick the can with our siblings and neighbor kids in the street. We dedicated sleepover time to developing stories about the ghost that haunted Krissy's house (trust me). We choreographed dance routines and made embarassing home videos that will come back to haunt us when we're famous. We went to midnight releases of Harry Potter books and movies. We talked endlessly about how weird it would be when we were grownups, and the trio of connected houses we would (WILL) live in someday.


Today she turns 23. And while I'm not sure our younger selves could ever have fathomed being even this old, I'm looking forward to 50 more years of shenanigans to come. Happy Birthday, Keesy!

Gemma.

I can't let the day go by completely without acknowledging the birthday of the littlest lady in the fam. Today marks one year that she's been giggling, squawking, and slobber-kissing her way into our hearts. Here's to many more years of having us wrapped around your tiny finger, Gemma.

Glee.

Is it weird that I'm really excited for this show?



A shorter promo can be found here.

A comedy about a high school glee club featuring lots of Broadway stars? Yes, I will watch it. The only bad part is that they're airing the pilot next week as a preview, and the actual season doesn't start until the Fall.

Luckily, I've got something to hold me over in the meantime.

D-listed.

As I pay for my Starbucks chocolate creme frappuccino, I notice the young male cashier looking at me intently.

"I'm gonna say something to you," he says, smiling.

"Okay....?"

"You know who you look like, right?"

"No, who?" I reply, racking my brain for redheaded celebrities. Does he think I look like Amy Adams? Julianne Moore would be awesome. The only comparison I've ever gotten is "that girl from Orange County." This is so exciting!

"Kathy Griffin," he says triumphantly.

I stare at him. Probably sensing my lack of enthusiasm, he quickly adds, "That's a compliment! She's... really funny!"

Sigh.

My favorite mom.

This weekend I took a quick trip down to Washington, D.C. to visit my friend Tim. He and his roommates were relating a story about a recent attempt at baking cookies, and how even though they followed the recipe exactly, the end result was subpar. Tim asked me how girls do it. "How do you just know how to make cookies and have them turn out perfectly?" Without even thinking, I replied, "Because we learn from our moms."

Thanks, mom, for instilling in me a love of cooking and the skills to do it well. Thank you for inspiring me with your constant efforts to learn and try new things. Thank you for being a total badass on a bike. Thank you for encouraging my talents and my education. Thank you for being an example of a strong woman and a wonderful mother. And above all, thank you for being super hot(t), which gives me hope for my future.

Happy Mother's Day.

Sarah.

Whenever I try to explain the hair color composition of my family to people, I have to emphasize that my oldest sister is a REDhead. "But you're a redhead, too," people say. I know, but her hair is RED red. Which pretty much encompasses everything that Sarah's about. She doesn't really do things halfway. She's loud and outgoing and has an opinion about everything. She shows great enthusiasm for what's going on in your life, whether it's getting excited about your upcoming study abroad or coming up with colorful verbal abuse for a boy who's just dumped you. Sarah's the kind of person you want in your corner, because she'll always be there cheering you on (and maybe throwing some of the punches when you're not up for it). I often find myself missing the three months I spent living with her and her family--we had a grand time going to the gym together, watching trashy television, discussing boys (that was mostly me), and of course eating delicious food. I wish I could be there today to celebrate her birthday, but I hope her day is fabulous. Knowing Sarah, it really couldn't be otherwise. Happy Birthday!

Well-played.

Well, apart from virus outbreaks and 9/11 flashbacks, New York City is a pretty great place to be these days.

This weekend I got to spend some time with the lovely Jill, who was in town for a few days. Jill was my roommate during one of the most fun years I had at BYU, so it was excellent to see her and reminisce and play in the city. Luckily, NYC was experiencing my absolute favorite weather--sunny and warm without being too hot or humid, balmy evenings with a warm breeze--so it worked out wonderfully. Jill and her friend Scott hit up most of the tourist stuff on their own, but I (of course) opted to introduce them to some of my favorite edible delights in the city, including Crepes on Columbus, 16 Handles, and Grimaldi's.


Typical line outside Grimaldi's--it's like trying to get into a club. A club that serves delicious pizza.

After Jill left on Sunday afternoon, I met up with some friends in Central Park for a little picnic and elementary-school-throwback sporting events.

A little kickball.

New obsession: Trader Joe's Kettle Corn. And I don't even LIKE kettle corn.

Wrapping up with a round of four square.

I suppose there are worse ways to spend a weekend. Then on Monday night I went on a 9-mile run, so I'm immensely pleased with myself. The Brooklyn Half Marathon (for which I am now officially registered!) is a little over 4 weeks away, so here's hoping this lovely weather continues to cooperate with my training schedule.

And, let's be honest, my playing schedule.