These temporary tattoos are all over the interwebs. All the fun, without the commitment! I thought the friendship bracelets were particularly interesting and fun. The time my friends/sisters and I spent knotting those ol’ string bracelets!… Obviously I am still loving the adult friendship bracelet idea.
Have to admit, also love the idea of friendship bracelets as real tattoos… If done well, could be awesome. Maybe in red ink.
Oh, and these were from the KIDS’ section of the site. Cute party favor idea!
My great friend, Kat, sent me a quote a few days ago. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.
“We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.”
More girl gossip. Don’t worry, baby, when you become a big girl you can get a (washable marker) tattoo, too.
Tattoo by Irene Blazquez, our loving and talented dear friend.
My hair was so long. As in, high-school long. And really, one can only use the “new” baby as an excuse for so long… oy.
I caught a glimpse of my endlessly long locks in a new/different light last week and almost gasped. I was washing my hands in a small, brightly lit café bathroom and looked up… and for a second, I swear I didn’t recognize my own reflection in the mirror. No offense to hippies, but I truly resembled one and I was not pleased about it.
It is bad enough that postpartum hair often sheds by the fistful. But to see it in this (literal) new light made me realize that I was no longer still “growing it out.” It was beyond that. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to cut. NOW. If I’d had a pair of scissors handy, I may have even gone to town myself.
Luckily I did not and yesterday, I went to a professional. 6 cathartic inches later, I breathed a gigantic sigh of relief. And hugged the hairstylist.
I think in a weird way, I was holding onto my hair. Perhaps subconsciously. Every time a woman has a child, her life changes so dramatically that it can be overwhelmingly difficult to process what just happened— all that has shifted, and who she has become. I suppose my long hair felt familiar in a world of non-stop change.
But wow. I’d forgotten how satisfying a good haircut/chop feels. This is a very good change.
If someone told me I had to choose one clothing label and be made to wear it exclusively for the rest of my life (all expenses paid, of course), it would be A.P.C.. Twist my arm! The French just get it right with this brand. Every detail, from the graphics to the buttons, is considered and stunningly subtle.
They are doing some very cool things with color right now, as can be seen on their website. For instance, the current seasonal collections are displayed piece by piece on the site in a gridded, color gradation. The effect is so beautiful, it makes you want one of each, like being in a candy store!
I don’t think I have ever been more proud of anyone than I was of this sweet girl yesterday. Vi had to undergo a medical test to ensure that she has outgrown an issue with her kidneys that we discovered when she was an infant… We arrived at the hospital prepared with a (pink-haired) doll, (pinkalicious) stickers, a pink lollipop + a chocolate bar.
Having no idea how to properly approach what we knew would be an overwhelming and scary situation for our not-quite 3-year old, we decided to be completely honest with her about the whole thing. N and I told her why she needed to have the test. We told her that it might feel uncomfortable but that it would not be for very long. We encouraged her to be brave but reassured her that it was ok to be frightened too. We were there with her, as was “Lola Rocker Doll.”
I won’t lie— the test sucked. She was very afraid and knew exactly what was going on… and wanted no part of it. It was tremendously hard to watch our child feel so afraid and uncomfortable, when your overwhelming instinct as a parent is to shield her from any form of harm whatsoever.
My most proud moment came when she screamed angrily at the doctor performing the test. I don’t even remember what it was regarding, but it was loud and commanding and everyone in the room snapped to attention. He was, of course, just doing his job. But in the spirit of this post, I saw my very young daughter protecting herself and setting limits.
I was in awe of her yesterday. Pink-cheeked and crunching her lollipop. Plodding down the hospital hallway after the test in her rain-boots (despite the sun shine outside)… she was so fragile and yet so strong. We encouraged her to be brave and that is a lot to ask of such a young kid. But she understood it and she was. So brave.
And we did get what we came for— which was to learn that she has outgrown the condition. We are so lucky and so proud of our little girl.
Recently I was reminded of the fact that the more you study a subject in depth, the more you realize how very little you actually know about it.
People practice yoga for very different, very personal reasons. I practice to better understand myself and therefore my life. It has been a true practice for 11 years now. Particularly now that children have entered the equation, my time on the mat is sacred time alone. I want to work hard, and by the end of each practice, I want to feel that I have learned something, whether large or small. And I aim to feel a sense of stillness— both in my mind and in my body.
Sometimes I can achieve this stillness after a led, group class, but often times I don’t. I work to find that sense of quiet but sometimes it is difficult when (cool) music, lighting and fancy pose sequences are distracting me. As part of my ongoing studies, I attended my first Mysore class two weeks ago. I was very impacted by the experience— it felt like the purest form of yoga I have ever practiced. I felt like a total novice despite having practiced yoga for so long. And it was awesome.
If you are familiar with Ashtanga, you likely know Mysore, as both a place and a style of yoga. In the Mysore tradition, the practice is quiet. The room may be filled with yoga practitioners, each student following the same fixed sequence of poses (from the Ashtanga tradition, as taught by Sri K. Pattabhi Jois). However, everyone person practices in silence, performing the asanas in accordance with his or her own breath. The teacher is simply there to adjust and offer personal guidance where it is needed.
It is intense. You must remain focused because every single breath is considered. Some of the poses are extremely difficult. It can take up to two hours and is intended for practice every day. Over time, both the mind and the body become quiet and strong.
In design school, I learned that just when you think a project is complete, remove three more parts… The Mysore style reminds me of this. Sometimes you just need to strip away all the “stuff” in order to get to the heart.
Above photo shows Sri K. Pattabhi Jois leading practice in Mysore, India in 2004.
The Golden Mean is a place where I discuss beauty + balance amidst the chaos of life. Herein lies my virtual journal.
I live in Los Angeles, CA with my
family— an extremely smart, loving husband as well as my two amazingly special little girls.
For design interest or inquiries,
my portfolio can be found at
View my PINTEREST boards.