Happy New Year

Today, I am overwhelmed by peaceful love. Indeed, it could have a bit to do with the fact that I went to bed at 11:20pm last night, minus any alcohol pulsing through my veins, and woke up completely clear headed and well rested at 8am on New Year's Day.

(Don't judge; I don't plan on making it a lifelong habit. My husband Andre and I are saving for something HUGELY EXCITING. Another truly magical blessing that defines our lives, for which we're both outstandingly grateful. (And no, it's not a pony.)

So, here, in the quiet of my cozy home, as the rest of the world sleeps off their hangover, (like my drunk dialing, 12:30am girlfriend to end all girlfriends, deep in the heart of Texas) or their ulcers, I've been engaged in my annual tradition of prepping my hot pink, patent leather, Kate Spade planner for another year of service.

Out with the old. In with the new.

Someday (maybe) I'll stop dreading what I initially view as a completely clerical task of transferring appointments from their sad paperstock cards to a more proper calendar form, and embrace it as a beautiful exercise that it always becomes. 

Because, once again, as I flip through the pages of 2013, I'm able to see not only the highlight reel of the year (EARLY morning college tour with my mentee, D'Angelo, Rebirth, Jose James and Ms. Emily King all killing it live, the wine and truffle tasting in some dude's basement, a vacation to paradise), but also the major defining moments of my life.

And 2013, you had many....

Some crowning moments that completely changed me as a person: I learned how to dance salsa, the beautiful start of not only symbolically dancing through life, but also courageously and systematically killing off the first of many long standing falsehoods about myself that really had nothing to do with me.

Boo-yah.

I celebrated with my favorite non-paying client, yeah, that'd be Andre, trust, I've got more than one, whose year of photography sales included, among others, a piece featured on the Boston WGBH PBS Fine Arts Auction. (Mystery buyer. You got good taste.) 

And last, but certainly not least, our diet overhaul, of completely cutting out the processed, helped us shed, drum roll please, SEVENTY POUNDS, which today is currently split right down the middle at 34.5 lbs each. (How did that work? Dunno. Guess we're equal partners like that.) 

So what's on tap for 2014? Hopefully more beauty, light, love and growth. (And a published book would work out a-ok too.) And while we'll have to wait another year, to see the whole picture properly flush out, I leave you with the (perhaps wine-soaked) wise words of my best friend Shelly, slurred, I mean, spoken, to a year only a half hour old: "The end of 2013 went out with a bang; I hope we just continue to trend." 

Amen.

xo

Kindness of Strangers

You may have seen me in Narragansett Pier last Saturday afternoon. 

I was the chick shuffling along the seawall in flip-flops and an aqua cover-up, balancing my beach bag in one hand, while clutching this lovely white floral centerpiece, along with its glass vase, against my right hip, trying not to spill too much water.

The theme of the day? Kindness of strangers.

It was our first visit to the beach this year. Sigh. I know. We live in the Ocean State. But I've realized that giving yourself complete permission to mark off a single day on your calendar, to sit in the sand and watch the waves lap at the shore is something that most people beyond the age of 22 rarely do. 

It's more adult, read: productive, to run around on these beautiful days and do errands. Or laundry. Or clean the house. 

Completely wrong. We will fix this.

Narragansett is an outstandingly special spot for Andre and I. Way back in the spring of 1992, when I was a student at URI, and in the midst of my daily walk on Ocean Road, someone shouted from the window of a passing automobile, "Hey, sexy!", then stopped 100 feet ahead. (He'll deny it.)

A girl with street smarts would have turned around when they didn't recognize the car. But I wasn't finished with my work-out, so I continued on my path, naturally, while peering out of the corner of my eye at a safe distance. Thankfully, it was only Andre, my co-worker from the Showcase Cinemas, who also lived in the neighborhood.

The start of our special place.

Last Saturday, Andre and I were looking for a spot to sit on Narragansett Town Beach (the BEST in the state), when someone Andre used to work with spied us. We've run into Vinny before near the beach, but truthfully I don't even think he knows my name. There was a couple minutes of small talk before Vinny said:

"I'm glad you guys are still together."

Aw. Beyond sweet. His words, along with the truly perfect weather, was more than enough to make this beach day memorable. But there was more to come.

On the way back to the car, we walked beneath The Towers, where our wedding reception was held back in 1999. Pure magic. The door was open, so we went inside to look at the pictures of the historic casino that were hanging in the lobby.

Maybe a minute after our arrival, I could hear someone struggling at the front door with something heavy. I turned to Andre and said, "Maybe someone could use your help."

The someone was Towers coordinator, Kate, a passionate steward of the historic building. She remembered us from over 14 years ago, and our passions--photography and writing. When I commended her on her memory, I occurred to me that maybe it wasn't so much her recall, but our stories, and who we are as people, that made us stand out.

She took us on a tour of the upstairs banquet hall, set up for an evening wedding, including a stop on the truly breathtaking outside deck, with its panoramic views of the shore. Here, Kate pointed out an osprey in the water and told us how when the seagulls followed fish at night, they look like white butterflies fluttering over the water. 

When we were leaving, Kate presented me these flowers, leftover from a reception the night before. I was beyond touched by her beautiful gesture. And I was once again struck by the fact that some of the most powerful positivity in my life has not come from traditional sources, but from surprising places when I least expected it.

It was also a further reminder that if you listen to the universe, it will always give you what you need. 

And what you deserve.

Stuff Money Can't Buy

Earlier this week, prior to the heartbreaking devastation in Oklahoma, the big story was that Powerball drawing: $590.5 million cold hard cash. One winner.

Trust. It wasn't me. Not only have I not been to Florida lately, but more importantly, drum roll please, I didn't play.

Until last Saturday night, I too always indulged in a ticket, when the jackpot rose to what can only be described as an obscene level. Two dollars and a dream and all that. 

Mine always started out firmly rooted in travel: first class tickets to visit my girlfriend in Australia. Europe. Hell, even San Antonio! (Only because that's where my bestie decided to set down roots.) Front row tickets to Essence Music Festival in New Orleans every year. Bali! Here we come. Iceland--for Andre. Puerto Rico. Again. And again.

Next, I'd spring to bring my favorite musical acts to my city. Duh! I'd convince, okay, bribe, blasts from the past like Remy Shand and George Michael to come out of hiding. I'd publish my book. Start the writing based non-profit I've been talking about for the past five years. Help some young 'uns pay for college. Buy an apartment in New York City. A genuine Tribeca loft. With a lovely roof deck. Or a brownstone in Harlem. Or both.

Yet, every single time I started spending all of my imaginary money, the same buzzkill gradually creeps in. And I'd abruptly realize how much of my outstandingly beautiful life, that I kind of dig, even in its non-millionaire stage, I'd have to give up.

Clearly, we'd have to say adios to our charming 1890's historic cottage that sits right on the street. Bye-bye to Andre's, literally, growing landscaping project, including this year's addition, three Rose of Sharon bushes, that he sat, deep into a hole, or three, to plant. We'd never feel the satisfaction of working hard towards a goal. And through a mixture of determination and fate, see them come true.

Already, in many aspects, my life has grossly surpassed my wildest expectations. I never dreamed I'd actually own a convertible. New. Hardtop, baby. Or the working antique pinball machine that sits in my kitchen. Or meet Maxwell, get interviewed by Al Roker on my 40th birthday on the Today Show or swim with dolphins. 

But it all somehow went down. Even on a relatively limited budget. 

All without winning a dime.

Indeed, you don't have to win the lottery to have a rich life. And outside of one enormous, ten year old tube tv that is cutting off a portion of the wide screen picture that the rest of the world is viewing, I really do have everything that I need. 

And more.