Anticipation.

Yesterday morning, after going to bed too late and tossing and turning most of the night, I woke up naturally at 6:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. Normally I would be annoyed and exhausted and have to drag myself out of bed, but this time I felt like I was jumping out of my skin with anticipation. After forcing myself to try and concentrate on work for a few hours (seriously, we were all having a maaaaajor case of senioritis in my office), it was off to the airport to head home to California.

Although the box of treats I was carrying home on my lap was seriously testing my self-control, we both made it home in one piece. Over the last week or two, my friends have listened patiently as I waxed poetic about my awesome family and how much fun we have together over the holidays. Many of them have had the same reaction--some variation of, "How do I get in on that?" Consequently, my little brother David has quite a few suitors trying to get in on the Ostler action. He has informed me that he has no problem whatsoever with older women.

Birthmonth.

I've often thought that having a single day to commemorate my entry into the world was sadly inadequate. Luckily, I seem to be finding opportunities to more fully celebrate this wondrous event throughout the month of November.

Last year, watching the ING New York Marathon became one of my all-time favorite activities, and this year it just happened to fall ON my birthday. My friend Zach, who was my spectating companion last year, held a pre-marathon brunch at his apartment. We ate and made signs and tracked the pro runners on my iPhone (the winner averaged a 4:53 mile, no big deal) and then headed over to 5th Avenue to watch.

We loved watching the masses and yelling out random people's names (many runners put their names on their clothing). Our signs were a hit--mine especially, for obvious reasons--with many runners giving us thumbs up our shouting things back at us. One guy came over and gave me a hug before running on. I also got to see my friend Reagan running (who had given me my birthday haircut a couple days earlier!) as well as Suzette, one of my friends from work. It was so much fun, and made me even more excited to run it next year.

I rounded out the day with a trip to my beloved Shake Shack with a couple of the ladies, after which we laid around watching random movies on TBS and feeling cozy. I also had calls from various family members and got to listen to several children shout the Happy Birthday song at me over the phone, which is always a win.

Last weekend was our now-traditional roommate joint birthday party, which this year added another friend with a November birthday. With our combined ages, it's a wonder we didn't burn the apartment down, but we managed to have a good time without having to invite the fire department.

To counteract all this aging, my two best friends in the world and I will be embarking upon the Greatest Vacation Of All Time (TM) this Thursday in Orlando. After that, Becca comes back with me to New York for a week of Broadway, delicious food, holiday lights, and the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. My excitement levels are about on par with a 5-year-old on Christmas Eve, so it's good to know that even after 26 years I haven't become too much of an adult yet.

Louie.

We had never really been dog people. I mean, most of us liked dogs, but the closest we’d ever come to having pets was a few goldfish and some sea monkeys. Then, about a week before Christmas when I was 16, there was a knock at the door. My little brother went to answer it, and we heard him shout, "Guys, it’s a dog!" Everyone ran to see what he was talking about, and there on the porch was a little crate with a puppy inside, and a note saying that Santa couldn’t wait until Christmas for this present. We brought it in the house and opened the crate door, and out waddled a tiny ball of white fluff. We were beside ourselves with glee.


Louie quickly came to be adored, and probably a ridiculous amount. He had a loving and affectionate demeanor, and was always ready to cuddle up next to you for hours on end. He would also drag you out the door and down the street as soon as you put on his leash, and he was always game for a round of hide and seek in the house. He submitted meekly to all sorts of indignities, from babies pulling his hair and trying to ride him around the house, to Becca taking pictures of him with various flower clips in his hair. And even when you caught him eating used Kleenex or barfing up grass on the carpet, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long.


When we would first arrive home after being away for a long time, Louie would go bananas. His little face would be waiting in the window when the car pulled up, and then would disappear as he ran to meet you at the door, jumping up and down with excitement as if you were the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. He was great with people, and rarely barked unless he saw that the squirrels in the backyard were getting a little too big for their britches. Louie had a personality all his own, and we loved him for it.


Two days ago, Louie passed away unexpectedly. It seems to have been complications from a fast-moving form of cancer. We’ve all been pretty shocked and devastated, especially since Louie never really seemed to grow out of the puppy phase, and we assumed we had at least a couple more years with him. We will miss him terribly, but we are so lucky to have had the last 10 years with such a fantastic friend.


We were never really dog people. But we were Louie people.

Fall foliage.

You guys, I love Fall so much. It's always been my favorite season, but I think living in New York has given me an even greater appreciation for it. And while there are many great things about summer in the city, I am only too happy to say goodbye to sweating in the subway, the smell of hot garbage, and people blasting music on the sidewalk at 3am. Now is the time of gorgeous colors in the park, boots, salted caramel hot chocolate, and baking every treat I can find that is even vaguely pumpkin-related.


Recently, a few friends and I decided to take a weekend trip to Boston. I'd never been, and I really loved it. But can we be honest? Boston is not a real city. I mean, it's beautiful and I would totally live there, but come on. It reminded me a lot of the touristy parts of DC--lots of brick buildings and wide streets. At one point, we decided to walk through Boston Common for a bit. After like 10 minutes of walking, we came out the other side, and kind of looked around, puzzled. "That's it?" Heh. I guess I've been desensitized a bit by New York?


Harvard was also very nice. I totally should have gone there. Here you see the first stop we made after dropping our stuff off at the hotel--an ice cream place across from Harvard yard. (That sentence kind of makes it sounds like our hotel was the ice cream place, which is something I can only dream about.) Pumpkin and chocolate chip ice creams in a cone? Yes, I'll have that.


We did all the obligatory tourist stuff--Italian food, the Freedom Trail, clam chowder. Aside from our bus driver almost making us miss the season finale of Mad Men, it was a delightful trip.


The next Saturday involved a day trip with some other friends to Sleepy Hollow, about 30 minutes north of Manhattan (which I refrain from calling "upstate" thanks to Noelle). We frolicked in the cemetery (who doesn't?) and visited the Headless Horseman bridge (pictured above). I would really be interested to know the amount of revenue that town sees in October compared to the rest of the year.

I'm actually excited to pull out the coats from under my bed, and to have a use for all my scarves other than preventing frostbite at my office. And while I know that come January, the tears will freeze to my cheeks as I cry over the arctic temperatures--for now, I'm in heaven.

Adults.

One month until...



and



with



I could not be more excited. And yes, I will be 26 years old by that time--why do you ask?

Confession.

Last night I did something I thought I never would in my entire life.

I'm not proud of it. I managed to get through 5 years living in Utah without it happening.

I attended a country music concert.

We were offered tickets to the Lady Antebellum show through work, and knowing that my friend loves them intensely, I got them. Because I am a really good person.

I might have danced a little. And possibly sung along to that one song that I know (and that, okay, I have on my iPod). And only once mocked the lead guy's many entreaties that we "get this party started".

It was actually kind of fun. Please don't judge me.

Warrior.

Have you ever wondered how you would have fared as a Viking? Ever since Sarah showed me this link six months ago, I knew this was something I needed to be a part of. Luckily, I have a few friends who are game for ridiculous (by which I clearly mean awesome) ideas, so we all got to experience it together.


The Northeast region race was held at a ski resort in the Catskills last weekend, so 12 of us (8 racers, 4 cheerleaders/photographers) drove up on Saturday morning for a 3.25 mile race. On a mountain. With obstacles.


Yes, I realize I'm making the "I love you" sign, not bull horns as I had intended. It was corrected later.
The place was insane--packed with upwards of 8000 racers plus spectators. It was awesome, though, and there was an immediate sense of camaraderie because let's face it, this is kind of a strange and crazy thing to do. Tons of people wore costumes, some more elaborate than others. People kept shouting "TUTUUUUUU!" at us and we became instant friends.


Our groupies.

The initial ascent.
Our wave started at 1:30, and I was giddy with adrenaline. We were joking about how I should push to the front, and then our group started chanting, "LAURA'S GONNA WIN! LAURA'S GONNA WIN!" Spoiler alert: I did not win. Anyway, off went the gun (and by gun, I mean giant FLAME-THROWERS) and off we ran. For like 2 minutes, until it became very clear that the crazy uphill climb was not ending anytime soon and we decided to walk for a bit. At one point as we were all gasping for breath, a girl near me told her friend, "At least we can say that we're true warriors. None of our friends can say that!" The other girl simply replied, "Our friends are JERKS!"


For the next 3 miles, we ran (sometimes trudged) through forests and across ski slopes, hopped over walls, crawled through tunnels, ran through tires, waded waist-high ponds, climbed cargo nets, careened down a giant Slip N' Slide, leaped over fire, and dragged ourselves through mud (under barbed wire) to the finish line. It was awesome.


After we finished and got our medals, we hung out by the mud pit to wait for the others and watch the racers come through. Some guys were absolutely fearless--diving or flipping straight into the mud, some even clearing the first line of barbed wire. They got huge cheers from the spectators, while people who stepped gingerly into the pit were met with resounding boos.

Who wants a hug?

Afterward we headed for the showers, which were basically power hoses set up on a grassy area. The water was ice cold and I totally shrieked like a crazy person while I tried to wash off as much mud as possible. After that, it was back to the car to change. I ditched my shoes in the donation pile but cleverly forgot to bring an extra pair, so I spent the rest of the day barefoot.


We were all starving after the race, so we stopped at a random diner for sustenance. I ordered a huge 1/2 pound cheeseburger with fries and completely cleaned my plate, and still felt awesome afterward. Because I am a true warrior.

It was an absolute blast, and I can't wait to do it again next year.