End of an era.

Until New Year's Eve, I hadn't really thought much about the fact that midnight would mark the end of a decade. Between that and the fact that my three-year Manhattanniversary was this weekend, I've been feeling a little sentimental and have had time to wax nostalgic about the last 10 years. I think that for me, they can be summed up as The Decade I Grew Up. Although I still don't really consider myself an adult, 2001-2010 contained some of the most significant moments of my life thus far. I went to prom. I graduated high school. I got a passport. I left the country for the first time. I went to college. I had my first boyfriend. I lived in a foreign country. I got my degree. I moved away from home. I landed my first grown-up job. I also made some lifelong friendships, learned what it means to make major decisions, and discovered how to rely on myself.

In the car on the way to the airport to come back after Christmas, my mom and I were talking, and she asked, "What do you think the next decade will bring?" When I imagine myself 10 years ago, it's hard to remember what I thought the next decade would be like. I picture the skinny girl with the braces and the new driver's license and the basically zero life experience and I think, you have no idea. No idea how great and hard and exciting and challenging and hilarious and amazing and scary and FUN things were about to get.

Even if I had the chance to go back in time and tell Past Me about everything, I wouldn't want to (not the least of reasons being that I'd have to prove that I was really from the future, and in the movies they always use their knowledge of the outcomes of sports games as evidence, and I would totally suck at that). For better and worse, I'm glad I didn't understand back then what I was getting myself into. And that's why I won't even try to predict what's next. Because I'm fairly certain that I really just have no idea.

Merry and bright.

Oh, hey. So Christmas was pretty great. It was lovely to escape the city for a little while and spend 10 days with my favorite people. It helped that while NYC was beset with frigid winds and crazy blizzards that shut down three airports, I was enjoying 60 degree sunshine without a care in the world. My parents' house was inhabited by 14 people, with several more coming and going depending on the activities. It's nice to be in a house full of people who share your priorities, namely: eating a lot, silliness, wearing sweats, hugging, and playing video games.

Some highlights:


Christmas Eve feast.


Nerds.


Getting some work done.


An amazing Thai dinner, prepared by my brother's future mother-in-law (p.s. I am awesome at wrapping won tons now, if you require services of that nature).


San Francisco.


A birthday.


In-N-Out. (Twice.)


Hugs.

A zillion more pictures here.
While the break was probably the perfect length and it was nice to get back to real life, it has been extremely hard this week to force myself to do stuff like concentrate on work and wear real pants. I don't like to think of myself as a hero--I'm just doing what I can. And I'm already looking forward to seeing my peeps again this summer.

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?