oh. les fleurs.

It's kind of (really) shameski that after eight years of French, I feel insanely proud of myself when I recognize basic french.

Les fleurs?

Whoo! Flowers!

On the contrary, I feel equally as disappointed in myself when I don't recognize it. So I think it kind of evens out...

In my head I'd really like to take some French classes or Rosetta Stone it, because it sounds very lovely to be able to speak it again. But then I remember that I'm insanely bad at languages and have no desire to actually do it again. And then I go back to just being proud of myself for being able to say: Oh la la j'ai un rendez-vous.

I kind of like being able to say I took French, mainly because everyone else takes Spanish these days (and maybe also ten percent because it makes me feel exotic. Like Brazilian. Or French? I guess). But it gets tricky when I tell someone who speaks French that I took it, because then they say something all advanced and I smile and say oui. Fingers crossed there...

It's kind of like the way I used to feel when I told people I did yoga, before I actually did yoga regularly. Sometimes, it just feels nice to believe something about yourself. And sometimes, maybe, if you believe it enough, you'll make it happen.

Lately, though, I'm more on board with just owning what I really own. I.E. I took French, but don't speak it well. And I make good chicken but otherwise don't really know how to make any other meat.

I think that's the nice thing about living on your own in a new city. Things start to fall away and you realize what you really want, and how you really feel. You surround yourself with the things and people that help you grow, and pursue what matters. And before you know it, you're doing exactly what you want to be doing, and don't even have to pretend that you're bilingual.

And that's just beautiful. In fact, it's belle.

image via and via

if you can't stand the heat...

Everyone keeps whining about this heat, but I'm kind of really digging it. Record breaking? Love it. Heat index above 100? Perfect.

I'm going to spend the weekend soaking it up, that way come winter I can warm myself up with the surplus.

Besides, hotter weather just means more excuses to do things like eat ice cream, drink super cold sangria, spend insanely long hours by the pool and wear sundresses constantly, all the while saying things like: whoah nelly, it's hot.

images: one and two

840 hours to go

It’s been exactly one week since I found out I can’t run for six weeks. The first week was OK because I didn’t actually believe it was true. I somehow convinced myself that the doctor was probably wrong in his prescription. I was sure that when I got to physical therapy she’d tell me that loco doctor didn’t know what he was talking about, and that I could, in fact, run, did not need therapy, and if I would just put a little ice on my foot, I’d be good to go.

However, I was wrong.

And now it has been exactly 24 hours since I found out I can’t run for (get this) at least six weeks, nor can I elliptical, walk or do anything that involves stepping on/impact to my foot.

When I found out, I tried to remain positive about the fact that I will be stuck on the bike all summer (which is, btw, my favorite season because I love nothing more than running and walking outside) so I bee-lined to a spinning class at LA Fitness. 

However, I got there only 30 minutes prior to the class and was told all the bikes we taken. I wanted to tell the sir manning the bike list that he needed to put my name on the list, as I was on the verge of a major meltdown and really needed to get my endorphins flowing. But instead, I stood there shocked and thought about the fact that the 30 minute drive to get there, plus the 30 minute pre-class time, plus the hour class would have made for an incredible two hour run, but instead amounted to an hour of heartbreak. So then I went and bopped around the weights pretending I knew what the different machines did…

So, it's day two and I actually made it to spinning. It wasn’t a run, but it was a good workout. I’m going to try to remain positive and try new workouts that don’t involve impact during the next (please be less than) five weeks, and might even get my old swimming lungs back. And, if the physical therapy solves my foot woes, it will definitely be worth the sabbatical. It’s been a long time (like 9^th grade) since I’ve run without pain, and if running makes me happy even with the pain, I can’t imagine how blissful it will be without it.

So, I’ll spend the next 840 hours spinning and swimming my heart out, with high hopes that I’ll be Prefontaining before we know it.

I’ll be sure to report back if I find any amazing, undiscovered workouts that you need to try.

image via we heart it

sweet love

The post-vacation dust has settled and I'm officially missing the beach! We had such a great time in OBX celebrating Chris and Sam's wedding and, while she's felt like part of our family for a long time, I'm so excited we made it official. They offer so much good&love to one another, and I've never seen Chris so happy.

And it was absolutely wonderful to have our family together again. I always walk away from time with them wondering how the heck we survive miles apart, because really nothing makes me happier than being together. From bocce and runs on the beach to dancing (and dancing and dancing) to four square to oversized family dinners, I just adore them all so much.

PS: Court has lots of amazing pics too.