Through The Years We All May Be Together

Tuesday marks my 25th Christmas. Twenty-five Christmas Eves. Twenty-Five Douglass Firs covered in tinsel and lights and various ornaments I've collected over the years (mostly of the Barbie variety) and 25 years of family traditions.

Because this blog may someday serve as a journal for my posterity, I decided to chronicle some of the traditions we Wallaces do each and every year as the advent calendar makes it way down to December 25th.

Something to note before I kick it off is that we have always spent the holidays in California. My Grandparents lived in Colorado the entire time I was growing up, so it's always been just the five of us out here in the golden state.

Leaving milk, cookies and carrots for Santa + Co: One of my favorite feelings from childhood is the intense anticipation of Kris Kringle making his way down our (nearly non-existent) chimney. My parents always made me go to bed fairly early, but I would lay in bed for hours listening for those silly reindeer and the clickety-clack of their little feeties. I'll never forget getting up in the middle of the night to use the little girls room and quickly turning away from the direction of the living room lest I catch Santa in the act--how horrifying!

In the morning, my brothers and I would wake up to our cookies and carrots gone with the wind and a note detailing the gratitude of the fat man and his pets.

Watching a Muppet's Christmas Carol: Okay so this one's like a little embarrassing to admit, but the Wallace clan love love LOVES the Muppets and their Christmas Carol. We laugh, we cry, we enjoy.

Every year.

Opening each and every present. One by one: There's truly nothing more excruciating as a six year old than having to wait while her big brothers open their socks and deodorant. That's real. Bless my sweet parents for trying to teach me patience and that the world does not revolve around me (did I get that memo?) and making us all wait our turns as we each opened a present, "ooed" and "ahhed," and then someone else took a turn.

It was actually great because it made Christmas morning last like hours. Especially in the later years right before my oldest brother went on his mission and I was an older child (we're almost nine years apart) because I really understood what was happening and that this wasn't going to last forever.

You only have a certain amount of time together as a nuclear family before the inevitable changes of life creep up and sweep you away into adulthood. I am so grateful for those long, drawn-out Christmas mornings. Which were followed by...

Breakfast: So, as an adult I realized that tons of people have some sort of casserole situation (is this a Utah thing?) but we always had breakfast sandwiches, complete with english muffins, a poached egg, cheese, canadian bacon and in later years, Tapatilo. Mother would sneak into the kitchen a few minutes before all of the gifts would open and start cooking.

I actually can't wait for them this year.

I've always loved the holidays. The lights, the decorations, the wreath on the door. Mumsy has always gone all out when it comes to decorating the house, trimming the tree and making it smell like Christmas morning all month.

Now that I am away from home, and have been for nearly seven years, I have come to see how important it is to have these traditions within a family for everyone to hold on to. We've all grown up and moved away, but we'll aways have these little things we do to remind us of how much we love this time of year.

xoxo

jury duty, jury duty, black mail, chain letter, eviction notice...

Bonus points if you can figure out which of my favorite Christmas movies this post is titled after.

Well, the holidays are in full swing, and you know what that means: parties. A PLENTY.

And we all know that of course, I love a soiree. Of any kind, really. I like parties that are decadently planned and require a man in a black tie, and I also love an impromptu get-together where the guys and girls just happen to be over and the pizza is being  passed around.

But I do especially love holiday parties. There's something so magical about grabbing a little black dress, putting on some Kate Spade Twirl perfume and slipping on some red pumps before you grab a man and dash out into the snow fog for an evening of mistletoe and reindeer games (if you're lucky.)

This year is/was no exception. Not unsurprisingly, the par-tays are not over (still have my office one!) and then holidays at the Wallace's are always sure to be...eventful. But before I whisk away to my hometown for some quality time with the niece and nephew, here's a round-up of the festivities so far.

Part One: The Nutcracker

I love the ballet. Like, LOVE the ballet. It's by far my favorite form of performance. There's nothing like the Nutcracker to get you in the Christmas spirit.

 The ladies of luxury strike again!

Also to note, I found out we were going last-minute. That's why I'm in like a sun dress. 

For an additional account of this evening, please see the wonderful and talented blog of one Ms. Charity Eyre.

Part Two: The Mistletoe Party

I mean, what more can I say? Kisses, eggnog and debauchery: check.

The ladies of 850 A

Part Three: The White Party

I love a white party as much as the next girl, though my collection of white soiree items is a bit limited, given that we are well beyond Labor Day. Oh well, caution to the wind. It's the holidays!

You can't really see our white outfits, but they are there

More to come, as the season wears on.

xoxo

it's okay to be sad.

on a daily basis, i experience a lot of emotions. some would even go so far as to say that i am dripping with enthusiasm.

which i am.

i wake up tired, but excited. i get impatient as i wait for the muni, but feel relief as it comes over the hill.   i look forward to a diet coke before 10 am, and watch the clock with anticipation if i am meeting a friend for lunch. lastly, i am grateful when the day is over and i can crawl into bed and enjoy a peaceful slumber.

but sometimes, something makes me real sad. unexpectedly, even. like in the blink of an eye something changes and turns everything around to a place of deep-sighing and eye-rolling. like all of a sudden what once was, isn't.

and it makes you real, real sad. and not just like, "oh someone drank the last diet coke my life is over," or "i let my iPhone soak in 20 oz of water for 10 hours," kind of sad. like, takes your breath away and makes you feel like your lungs are going to collapse, sad.

but i'm here to say, it's okay to be sad. it means you still have hope. it means you care, or cared, enough about something. it shows that your heart is open and your soul is alive.

it means the passion is still within you, and the drive to be happy and have the life you always imagined is within your reach. it says, "i haven't given up, i'm still fighting for this."

it shows you still believe. and as long as you still believe, you're going to be okay.

xoxo

The Princess Diaries: Why I Love Wills and Kate

I've not had ONE single second to write a formal post on this week's royal announcement. Which should tell you what an absolutely insane week it's been.

That said, thought I'd recycle a post from July 2011 on the Duke and Dutchess to make a quick tribute to my favorite parents-to-be.

It’s no secret that I am obsessed with this dynamic duo.

I’ve been talking about Wills and Kate ever since their engagement was formally announced last November, and more so in the past four months as their wedding has been planned, performed and now, passed.

So, why the fascination-like, what’s the deal?

Well, there are several factors at play here.

First and foremost, I have always been an anglophile. Not to be confused with an anglophone -though I am one of those too by virtue of my US birth-but a person who has a fetish for the Brits.

I went overseas for the first time in my life when I was 15, and it was a trip with mumsy to jolly old England.

The minute we landed at Heaththrow and met my Aunt (who by the way was a total trooper driving in her wrong-side-of-the-road Volvo), I knew it would change me forever.

Those two weeks were the start of something new. Since my Aunt and Uncle were amidst their tour with the Air Force, we had the fabulous opportunity to stay in a charming English cottage in the most darling London suburb.

We spent our days riding the train into London, jumping on the tube, visiting the British museum and of course, found ourselves at Harrod’s far more than was appropriate.

As dramatic as it sounds, those two weeks were a turning point for me. I knew I needed more than an entire life spent in the States. I felt like I was destined to be an ex-pat; maybe not forever, but for spurts of time.

Back to the Duke and Dutchess.

When mother and I were across the pond, Harry and William were everywhere. On postcards, in the media and on my boy-crazy teenage girl mind.

Turns out that year was Will’s first year at St. Andrews, and Harry was only two years ahead of me in school. Most people bade me farewell with a “try and woo a prince,” or “if you see Wills, get a picture.”

Even here in the States, we have always kept an eye on those real-life princes. They are the fairly tale of my generation.

More importantly, let’s talk about my admiration for Kate Middleton.

Not only did she have the patience to wait just shy of a decade for her charming prince, she did it with style, class and the perfect stilettos.

Humble and unassuming, Kate has been all smiles ever since the pair announced their engagement and she began her stride into the life of a full-fledged royal.

You can always count on her pearly whites to flash during any and all official palace engagements; plus, she and Wills manage to be practically giddy when they sneak in a sweet smirk (or smooch!) during their everyday not-so-private life.

At the risk of sounding like the side of Starbucks cup, the way I see it is this: Kate is in love with William despite, and not because of, his status as the future King of England.

By all counts, she appears to be hardworking, humble, devoted, tenacious, smart, sweet and willing to go the extra mile for her hubby-which I think is an excellent relationship quality whether or not your husband is royalty.

If you haven’t noticed, the press seems to be unnaturally obsessed with how Kate does all of their grocery shopping-and I think this is why. The fact that Great Britain still has a King and Queen is, in and of itself, a little old-world (read: ridiculous).

Not to mention the fact that they employ hundreds (probably thousands) of servants, ladies-in-waiting, housekeepers, nannies and various other waitstaff for the upkeep of their homes and families.

This wouldn’t be a big deal or seem out of the ordinary, until you hear the story of how Prince Charles never put the toothpaste on his own toothbrush.

Yeah, that’s real.

Wills and Kate are determined to be different, and I love it. Kate does all their cooking, Wills has a career in the Royal Air Force (remember, they postponed their honeymoon because he had to be back at work on Monday?) and famously, instead of wedding gifts, they asked for money to be donated to their charities.

Basically, I could go on and on. Speaking as a former British colonist, I can say I whole-heartedly approve (and obsess over) this match.

May their rein as Wills and Kate be long and fabulous... and may Kate continue to single-handedly bring back the nude pump.

Gobble, Gobble.

Oh hey, Thanksgiving. Didn’t see you there.

I’ve been waiting for you for so, so long. Where have you been all my life?

In the spirit of the season,  I thought I’d take a sec to put proverbial pen to paper and make some notes about the things I am grateful for. 

Of course, my amazing family. More specifically, my incredible parents. Not only did these two give me the gift of life (that’s a bit graphic) but they gave me everything I have and made me everything I am. 

They’ve always had incredible patience, which is probably the most vital quality one must have when dealing with me. They have been my biggest supporters in many, many ways and have been the only constant in my life. They are the first ones to dish out a healthy dose of tough love (thanks, Dad) but also the first ones to give comfort in tough times. 

I am forever grateful that I am celestially involved with them.

Mumsy and I in Aix-en-Provence

My ward family. Hmmmm, where to start? I am so privileged to know and love some of the most fabulous young people in the city. My ward family is really my San Francisco family: the people who love and support me in everyday ways. 

They, like my parents, are the first to dole out a little tough love when I get a knocked off course a bit, but are also the ones I go to when things go either fantastically wrong or ridiculously right. I share with them the everyday joys of seeing the sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge, eating mexican food and attending family home evening.

They make San Francisco home.

Incredible friends. I thought about folding friends into the ward family category, but I've had many, many friends over the years not of my faith that have taught me the most incredible lessons about life and love. There are so many people throughout high school and college that changed and shaped my perspective of the way the world works and taught me how to love unconditionally. 

Here's to celebrating our 8th birthday as besties

My education, both in the states and abroad. I know, I know. That France thing, again. 

Humor me?

Not many kids get the opportunity to study abroad twice. After spending eight weeks in southwest France, I made the decision to spend the year in Aix-en-Provence. My parents mom didn't bat an eye at the thought of going back, though my Dad did take some convincing. I believe his exact words were, "well, if you and your mother are united on this, there's not much I can do about it, eh?"

I am forever grateful for the experiences I had overseas. Living amongst another culture taught me an incredible amount about myself and definitely gave me the world view I have now. Plus, it forever made me addicted to traveling.

I am equally as grateful for the opportunity I had to attend Chico State and BYU-I and graduate, and for my parent’s sacrifices, support and excellent advice. My six years in college (save your judgement for later, please) were some of the best of my life thus far, and my sweet memories of those times will stay with me for a long time.

Arriving at SFO after a year away

My job. This one’s a bit of a no-brainer, but I am of course incredibly blessed to have a job in a city I am in love with, doing exactly what I studied in school. I have coworkers that make the deal even sweeter by making me laugh, talking me off a ledge and generally being available via Gchat for...whatever. 

The gospel. Last, but farthest from least, I am so grateful that my young, married parents met with the missionaries some 37 years ago and made the decision to join the church. My life, as well as the lives of generations to come, will be blessed by their decision and their unwavering love and loyalty for the gospel. I am so grateful for the knowledge that families are forever and that there is power that is greater than me.  

And with that, ‘tis time to mash the potatoes. 

xoxo

What It’s Like to Date A Girl Who’s In PR

I was recently ridiculously inspired by a blog post that was artfully and hilariously penned by a dear friend about how to date a Mormon entrepreneur. Reading his words of course got me thinking about what it's like to date/marry a girl who's in PR.

There have been several posts about what it’s like to date a PR babe, including some from a few of my personal favorite blogs, like PR Daily and NYC PR Girls. 

We ladies of publicity are a specific breed and all share some of the same basic qualities. It takes a specific kind of person to manage agency life. It gets hectic, can be incredibly stressful and because of the nature of working in client service, can cause us to be late to dinner occasionally. 

So, in reading all of these, I'm all: what would I want my future BF to know? 

Slash, not just a significant other, but how could I explain these to friends so we could understand one another better?

 See below. 

We bullet out everything.

And I mean everything. (Wait, am I doing it right now?)

Even a whimsical love note left on a pillow would look something like this: 

Hi Babe, 

Hope you have a great day! I love you for the following reasons: 

-  you're incredible

- we love all the same things 

- I dig your bod

       - especially your nose, hair, eyes, lips, arms

            - oh wait, that’s like, everything

- your laugh kills me

- you're literally fantastic 

I’ll circle back with you later to discuss with some further detail.

Best,

Your PR Girlfriend. 

We have the most annoying optimism.  

What's that? Four reporters hung up on us and three made us cry with multiple expletives? No problem! We'll send over that press release and screen shots just in case they change their mind. You never know! 

Couple that with our sheer tenacity and and general go-gettedness and you have a girlfriend who rarely fails to see the silver lining.

Sometimes even I say to myself, “oh hey girl, if you look on the bright side one more time, imma shank you.” 

Service is our natural love language. 

We got into PR because we like doing things for and on behalf of others. We do our best to anticipate needs before they come up, and take care of them as soon as we possibly can. 

That said, we are used to taking direction from others. So, tell us how to help you. And for the love of all that is good, please be explicit. 

We will be your loudest cheerleader. Period. 

We become devoted fans of the brands we represent and find out as much as we can about the industry in which we work in order to be effective brand managers. Samsies goes for you. We'll do our best to support you in every way we can by doing our homework on how we can help. 

Since our job is to get publicity for our clients, we also may or may not take any chance we have to spread the word about how attractive/talented/thoughtful you are. 

Hopefully you're up for being publicly praised. 

Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to be in constant communication with us. 

Yes, we LOVE Gchat, but we also love you. 

Give us a chance to miss you. Let us wonder how your day is going.  Constant access to someone can take away that heart-pounding anticipation. 

Don't worry if you don't get back to us right away. We can wait. 

Truth or truth, we’re wound a little tight. 

PR is a lot about constantly staying ahead of things, so we do tend to get a little over zealous when it comes to planning. Being ahead of the curve is something we live and breathe, so cut us a liiiitttllleee slack if we're already talking about next Christmas before we deck the halls this year. 

We do our best to lock it down. 

There are plenty of other need to knows about dating a PR girl (don't be surprised if our alarm goes off and we roll over to check our Google Alerts, you'll get used to it) but those are biggies, I'd say. 

To note, some of these could just be a function of me and my personality. I mean, there's a reason we pick the careers we do. It's likely I would be this way even if I wasn't a media maven,  but working in PR helps me exist in my natural habitat. 

Until next time.

xoxo

No Doubt About It

I cry a lot.

I've always been a crier. Ever since I was a little gal I've been telling people, "I know, I know! I have hyper-sensitive tear ducts," which is, by the way, totally not a real thing.

I remember when I flew to Seattle in August and the mere sight of the International Terminal at SFO made my lip quiver with emotion as the memories of flights to Paris and London came flooding back. I was literally on the air train from BART fighting tears as I was about to head out to what would be one of the best vacations of my life.

RIDICULOUS. 

Well, samsies happened last weekend as I was sitting in Terminal 1 (which is NO Terminal 2, let me tell ya!) reading Sheri Dew's book, No Doubt About It. I grabbed it on a whim as I headed out the door early Saturday morning to catch my flight to Orange County, and as I sat there reading the first few chapters, I found myself once again smearing my mascara as my emotions got the best of me.

Have you read that book? If not, you should. 

It's mainly directed at the women of the church, but all members could benefit from Sheri's incredible humor, unfailing optimism and devotion to the gospel. Her ability to relate every day life and the choices we make to gospel principles is unmatched by any other Latter Day Saint author (in my opinion). 

Though I am only halfway through, her words have already had an impact on my life. The back of the book jacket reads:

"Life is filled with moments of joy, but life is also hard. It is an unmistakable privilege to be here in mortality, but the burden we carry is weighty, relentless and laden with importance. So I pose two questions: What have we come here to do? And how will we do it?"

Those two questions are referenced throughout the book as Sheri takes readers trough many pages of examples and anecdotes that help define the answers. She pens powerful words about growing a testimony, preparing to receive personal revelation, overcoming disappointment and heartache and living your best life. I hadn't even planned to bring it along, but after two chapters, I couldn't put it down.

One part that was particularly impactful, and the syllables that when put together made me originally well up at Gate 30, was a quote from President Hinckley, which said, "You are good. But it is not enough just to be good. You must be good for something. You must contribute good to the world. The world must be a better place for your presence. And that good that is in you must be spread to others."

I sat there, in that weird plastic airport chair, thinking of the good that had been spread to me, by others. 

In particular, I of course thought about my visiting teaching companion, for whom I was making the journey down to Newport, as she was getting married in a matter of hours. I thought of all the wonderful weeknights we shared over the course of the year we've been companions, driving around the city, visiting our girls, chatting about our lives and enjoying one another. 

I also thought of my wonderful visiting teachers, without whom I'm not sure I would have kept coming to church. I'll never forget the day they ambushed me in Relief Society and demanded we be friends. I am forever grateful to those girls.

Even now, as I write this post, I am a bit emotional. But, as with all personality quirks, we must embrace what has been gifted to us, as we all have something that someone else needs.

I mean yes, I cry a lot. But is that really so bad? Mostly, I'm so grateful that I love things and people enough to cry about them.

Dramatic, much?

xoxo

Life Moves Pretty Fast...

...if you don't stop to look around once in a while, you might miss it. --Ferris Bueller's Day Off

I mean, how true is that? Lately, life has been moving really, really fast. Thanksgiving is within arms reach, but I still feel like July was just a few weeks ago.

Because so much has been happening, I am going to make like a reporter and do a round-up of all the festivities that have so wonderfully filled my weekends over the past few weeks.

Kirsten's Black + White Bon Voyage Mocktail Party: So, this rockin' Saturday night was a bittersweet end to one of the best summers I've ever had. It's rare that you meet someone who is so completely different from you, but gets you in a way that you can hardly put into words. For me, Kirsten is one of those people. I love her because we have some of the most candid conversations of my life that are occasionally filled with such raw emotion that I wonder if one of us is going to spontaneously combust (clearly we never have). She is somehow able to so eloquently put thoughts and feelings into words, and I always walk away from spending time with her feeling lighter and a little more in-tune with my psyche.

Unfortunately, she moved back to the Pacific Northwest the weekend of Halloween to make a new life for herself in Portland. I know it's going to be great because she is incredible, and Portland is RIGHT up her alley.

Plus, she's only a Gchat away.

But before she left, we threw here a faux cocktail party to send her off in style.

The Adventure Time Crew

Halloween: Wow, All Hallows Eve is a BIG deal these days, no? Last year I must have been an absolute hermit because I attended three times the parties in 2012 that I did in 2011; this was awesome for several reasons, but first and foremost because I LOVE a party and any chance to shop for a new accessory. Second and...second most, because I got to spend three nights with some of my absolute favorite people! My costumes were as follows:

-- A member of the US Olympic Gymnastics Team

-- Zelda Fitzgerald ( my fave! )

-- A Yoga Teacher/Marina Girl (you choose, they wear the same thing)

The Gymnasts 

High Tea at Love Joy's in Noe Valley: One of my dear friends and visiting teaching companion is getting married this weekend in Orange County (expect a post on that) and so a few of our besties took her to high tea to celebrate her impending nuptials. Topics of conversation included: how crazy wedding planning is, our love lives, people we know, and wedding night lingerie. 

Check, check and check. 

Love Joy's Tea Room, where said festivities took place, is also just blocks away from the wonderful Noe Valley house I loved and miss ever so much. Also to note is that this blog is named after the street I lived on there. 

Tea!

Guy Fawkes Day Celebration: As we all know, I am a TOTAL anglophile (and by default, the self-appointed understudy to the Dutchess of Cambridge), so I love to honor a good British holiday. Apparently, so do the girls in my ward, because last Friday night, we celebrated the 5th of November with a huge bonfire at Ocean Beach. Festivities included mass consumption of British digestifs, setting off sparklers and burning a Fawkes replica (that is what that was, right?).

We heart England

All in all, an incredible couple of weeks. 

xoxo

New Calling: Dinner Groups Co-Chair

So, I have a new calling*.

Two Sundays ago, I was on my way up to the Bishop's office to look for someone, and before I could make it all the way up the stairs, I was promptly pulled aside by one of the counselors in the bishopric**.

"Caitlin! I'm so glad I ran into you. Can we talk downstairs?"

...........................................

When a member of the bishopric asks you to talk downstairs, you may as well count on getting sustained as something new during sacrament meeting.

"Sure, sounds great!" I cheerily replied knowing full-well what was in store.

So we clamored down the stairs to the bottom floor of the church building--the YSA meets in a three  story building, it's so crazy--and sat down to chat.

Less than five minutes later, I had accepted the calling of dinner groups co-chair***. So exciting! I was actually thrilled when the idea was pitched to me because I LOVE dinner groups.

Love. Dinner.Groups.

When I was living in Davis two summers ago, I had just started going back to church and didn't know many people. Luckily, the Relief Society president in the ward was uh-maiz-ing and immediately came up to me with a proposition: did I want to come to sign up for dinner groups?! Uhhhhhh sure? And so I went, out of sheer curiosity, and it ended up being the way I made all my friends in that ward.

If I've ever written you an email, you know I like to list things out for both easy reading and efficiency. Here's why I heart dinner groups, bulleted out.

They're a church activity, but not really. Sure, they are organized by two members of the RS and Elder's Quorum; but after that, they are basically turned over to the members to decide what they want to have and who is bringing what, where. It helps those who love to plan do their thang, and those who love to just come and support, do what they do best. It's organized chaos at its best.

You get to know new people. If you're like me and sometimes get paralyzed by the fear of being in an awkward social situation, have no fear--dinner groups to the rescue. Since the groups are chosen for you, there's absolutely no risk you'll be left out or chosen last or left sans a partner in crime. Everyone is at the mercy of the co-chairs, and so you become forced to get outside your comfort zone and :GASP!: speak to new people, who may even sit on a different side of the chapel than you...what the WHAT?!

There's a great chance you'll get put in a group with your crush. This is obviously the best reason for dinner groups. Single's wards can be tough for a lot of reasons, but one of the hardest things I've found is this: say a really cute member of the opposite sex gives a talk, lesson, walks by, etc and you're like WHO IS THAT ABSOLUTE FOX?! You then sit in sacrament meeting wondering how to semi-organically become friends with that hottie with the eyes and end up just going home and eating a giant burrito.

I mean, what?

Anyway, dinner groups provide you with some good odds that the cutie with the hair is going to be bringing a salad to your soiree, and the forced mingling can begin.

They reinforce the bonds of your church f(r)amily: I'll never forget the day I stopped putting my mom as my emergency contact on all those forms you fill out for like, everything. I put my best friend at the time (well, he's still my best friend), and thought to myself: wow, how weird. He'll be the one to call my parents and let them know that I am _______*insert catastrophic emergency situation here.*

My point is, as singletons, we need our besties. We need the men and women that we text when things go right and when things go wrong. We need the people with whom we share our greatest triumphs and our most tragic failures. You can never have too many people that love you, and understand you in the unique way that other members of the church can. And how do you make those friends?

By having dinner together on Sundays.

Long story short (too late, always), I believe in dinner groups.

xoxo

Author's Note: I am also a ward missionary. I know, right?

*So, the Mormon church is VERY organized. Freakishly so. Most of the members are asked to volunteer their time and talent in various positions that serve the needs of the ward and stake. These volunteer positions are called callings.

**Have I told you what the bishopric is? It's the group of men that preside over the ward.

***In case you're like, what the HAIL is a dinner group: It's where members of the ward are divided up into groups of like 8-10 and they all get together and have dinner every like, 5 weeks. So, basically exactly what it sounds like.

The Perks Of Being (The Opposite Of) A Wallflower

I love love. Well, mostly.

 I love love in the sense that I love many people and tend to throw the word around similar to the way I agree with "totes" and signify that I can finish something with "on it."

I have always kind of been like that. My whole life I've been an extrovert and get my energy from other people--it's just the way I'm built. The more I have come to accept, embrace and celebrate that part of my personality, the better I've learned how to nourish myself and identify the things I need to feel happy and healthy.

However, as an extrovert with the love languages quality time and service, I sometimes get myself into a situation where I expend a lot of energy and emotion into the people I love, and end up feeling like the emotional stimulation may or may not finish me off. Lately (like, the last 4 years) I've liked to keep a smooth balance of time with besties and some hours to myself to recharge my proverbial batteries.

Contrary to popular belief, I actually LOVE me some alone time. Usually my alone time is paired with or comes after some significant socializing and/or exceptionally difficult day.

For example: The other day I went to work and was like, blah: It was raining, it took a long time to get downtown, I didn't feel like I got a lot done in the morning and I was just feeling off balance. Being that I love Gchat, I  im'ed someone I love and adore and asked if they wanted to go to lunch. Luckily, they did, and I watched the clock until noon when I could bounce out of the office and down the Embarcadero to munch on a mid-day meal.

 After a lunch filled with amazing food and even better conversation, I marched back into the office feeling noticeable lighter and in a much better mood. As I was grabbing my usual after lunch peppermint tea, I couldn't help but think, "quality time is SO my love language!"

However, as the afternoon wore on, I found myself sinking once again into my funk-type mood. There was a social event planned for the evening that I really wanted to attend, but I couldn't help thinking that maybe I should just stay home, wrap myself in my duvet, and watch some Gilmore Girls. My lunch rendezvous provided me with nourishment my extrovert self needed, but the few hours of solo time was sounding so tempting I could think of nothing else.

So I came home, changed into my yoga pants (standard) and settled in with a few episodes of my favorite mother-daughter combo.

Best.Idea.Ever.

As much as I love my friends and as much as relationships are truly what give me my self worth, I usually need some time to decompress. To re-center myself. To be alone with my thoughts.

Being able to be alone is one of the most important qualities I think we can strive to develop, if we don't already love it. I think it's great to be able to be at peace with your own brain. It can help you think things out, take a few deep breaths, and put you in tune with any kind of inspiration you might need to receive.

Again, I love love.

But part of loving love, is loving to be alone.

xoxo

Nike Women's Marathon 2012: Next Year We Are Wearing Matching Outfits. This Is Ridiculous.

Who run the world?

Girls.

And last Sunday, twenty-five thousand of us took to the streets of the city I love and am incredibly blessed to call home, San Francisco, and ran the Nike Women's Half Marathon.

I know, can you believe it? In 2012 I ran two half marathons.

If, on New Year's Eve in 2011 you'd have been like, hey girl, next year you're going to run 13.1 miles in a row on purpose TWICE, I'd have been like, HAIL no. But alas, I would have been wrong.

Typical.

Race bag and recovery drinks--a must have!

The NWM was an incredible experience for a couple of reasons. First and foremost, I got to run it with my bestie and training companion Jessica, which was super legit because we've been running all summer together and it was great to see our hard work pay off.

Running alongside Jess was also helpful because homegirl was basically dragging me along the whole way a la Andrew during the Sea Wheeze, and without her I probably would have given up somewhere in the Presidio and gotten eaten by coyotes. So, there's that.

The race is also incredibly impressive because of the sheer number of participants. Twenty-five thousand people run the course, and there is a lottery to be able to participate. Likely because of the coveted prize at the end: a Tiffany's necklace designed just for the event and given to finishers only.

Rad.

As with all half marathons, it started pretty early, so Jess and I met at her house at 6 a.m. and her darling twin sister chauffeured us downtown to the starting line, Union Square. We started off slow and steady, powering through the financial district that we had clocked so many miles through over the last few months, and made our way to the Embarcadero that would lead us to the Marina.

Ready to race!

I try and always be grateful for my blessings. I have been incredibly lucky to have so many things work out for me, but as we powered down the Embarcadero and through North Beach to head to the Marina, I was basically breathless (okay, I was running, work with me here) with the sheer beauty of the city and love I have for San Francisco. The stillness of the water along the coast so early in the morning  does something for your soul that nothing else can.

After the Embarcadero, we trotted down Marina Blvd., which is one of my absolute favorite places in the city, sailed by the yachts, and began to make our ascent into the Presidio.

Aye yi yi. We basically ran STRAIGHT uphill for like a HALF MILE until we got to the top; after we peaked, we glided down Washington Blvd., and out of the Presidio, heading into Outer Richmond and then finally, Ocean Beach.

Really though. We do! Mile 6

As we got to the top in the Presidio though, I looked around us and noticed how many people were dressed the same. Girls everywhere were in matching pink shirts, purple shirts, yellow pants, tutus...you name it. So I turned to Jessica and was like, "We are basically rejects right now because we didn't coordinate. Next year, we are wearing matching outfits. This is ridiculous."

The end of the race could not have come fast enough. As we ran the final two miles through Golden Gate Park I was practically incoherent (okay, that's a little dramatic, but I was definitely struggling) but Jess just kept us going. As we rounded the bend and saw the finish line, we picked up speed and sailed across...with our eyes on those little blue boxes.

All in all, it was an awesome experience. We got to see the all of the best parts of the city in the most intimate way you can: on foot. I couldn't end this post without a HUGE shout out and thank you to the girls I run with every week: Stephanie, Paola, and of course, Jessica. Love you gals!

The Infinite Power of Hope...And Other Pre-Conference Gems

One of my FAVORITE couples of all time: Seth and Summer

I've been thinking a lot about hope lately. A few months ago, I was running with one my best friends and she said something that really resonated with me. 

We were talking about dating (always) and she's all, "I know we're suppose to be full of hope, but sometimes I don't know how much longer I can be hopeful. I feel like things are getting worse, not better." 

At the time I wasn't sure what to think of that. I am, in general, a very optimistic person and very regularly believe that things will work out for your greater good if you believe they will. 

I have always been someone who is genuinely thrilled for my friends when they get engaged, married and start families. I love to see other people happy, especially if I love them.  I believe that everyone deserves to get what they want.

But every once in a while, I find myself having a week (or six) so full of literal despair that I wonder where all my hope is hiding. 

So, since I am on what I am hoping praying is the almost-end of a full-fledged funk, and with General Conference* this weekend, I decided to search old conference talks for insight into how to be more hopeful. 

Of course, one of the most pertinent talks I discovered was given by President Uchtdorf, who I am convinced I was besties with in a past life. He just like, gets me. 

In October 2008, he gave a talk entitled, "The Infinite Power of Hope." He begins his remarks with a story of his young mother fleeing Czechoslovakia to Germany during WWII with her four children, including President Uchtdorf, who was a toddler at the time, to escape as refugees and live with her parents. 

He narrates a night during which he and his siblings were separated from her by accident, and details her frantic searching, and how her faith that she would be reunited with her children overcame her fear that they would be lost forever.

Now that he has long been an adult, and experienced times of great despair, President Uchtdorf expressed his wish that he could have sat next to her during the time she was searching for he and his siblings, and ask her what kept her going on her search. 

What made her think that maybe, just maybe, the next train she came across during her time of uncertainty might be the one with her family on board. Why didn't she just give up, drop her head into her hands, and think, they can never be found.

Now, of course I was reading this talk on the N-train after work, and as I finished reading that story, I was basically sobbing. I couldn't stop thinking about how I myself am in what I see as one of the most important searches of my life. 

I don't like to blog much about my future husband. I have never classified myself as of those girls that is just waiting for some guy to come and complete me. I finished college, lived in Europe, ran a half marathon (with another in a few weeks) and have an awesome job in an amazing city--this girl stops for no one. 

But there are definitely days when I feel the weight of my single-dom pulling me under like a dangerous rip-tide that is relentlessly surrounding every inch of my body. I've been addicted to the new Owl City CD (thanks, Andrew!) and there's a song with a line that reads, "there were days, when each hour, was a war I fought to survive," and during the last few weeks, there have been moments  where I feel I am fighting a larger battle than I can possibly handle.

But as I kept reading President Uchtdorf's talk (and pulled out my Kleenex, so awkward!), I found comfort in his inspired words. He said, "Hope is one leg of a three-legged stool, together with faith and charity. These three stabilize our lives regardless of the rough or uneven surfaces we might encounter at the time." 

How brilliant, I thought, as my streetcar jolted along, that hope is not hope alone. 

He goes on to say, "Hope is critical to both faith and charity. When disobedience, disappointment and procrastination erode faith, hope is there to uphold our faith. When frustration and impatience challenge charity, hope braces our resolve and urges us to care for our fellow men without expectation of a reward. The brighter our hope, the greater our faith. The stronger our hope, the purer our charity." 

I sat and looked out the window as the shops and houses in Cole Valley whirred by, and thought, if Dieter's (we're on a first name basis, let's be real) mom could be hopeful that she would find her kids in the pitch black night in some European wilderness, I can have hope.

I can be full of hope. And I should be full of hope. 

Because even though there have been many awkward moments of hesitation in my dating life, as well as several unreturned phone calls and conversations after which I literally laid in bed at night and thought, "what just happened," it is better to keep hoping that through all the bad first kisses, ridiculous second dates and totally misread signals that I'll find what I am searching for. 

I can't just drop my head into my hands and say, "I give up;" though somedays, I feel like throwing in the towel is my only option. I have to keep moving forward. 

President Uchtdorf closed with this, he said:

"And to all who suffer-to all who feel discouraged, worried or lonely-I say with love and deep concern for you, never give in."

I mean, how can you say no to that?

xoxo

*For those of you who are unaware of what General Conference is, it's a bi-annual conference that the church holds where its leaders address all of the members from the conference center in Salt Lake City.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

I never really enjoyed babysitting.

Growing up as the youngest child made me spoiled in that I was never really responsible for any younger siblings. There is a relatively large gap between myself and my older brother (nearly 7 years), so for the most part, it was just me and my parents alone together after both of my brothers moved out. I was also one of the youngest neighborhood kids, so there just wasn't a lot of opportunities for me to practice my future mothering skills.

All of that said, I haven't been around a lot of kids. Sure, at church there was always a baby to be passed around, but usually I was too busy socializing, fulfilling my calling or, let's be real, chasing after boys to have any time for peek-a-boo and patty cake. Plus, if you know anything about my father, you know he is always the one to hold the babies and never let them go. Thank goodness he finally has some grandkids, no thanks to me.

Speaking of grandkids, that's actually the subject of my post. This weekend, I went home to visit my parents in my hometown, and help them babysit my adorable niece and nephew for the weekend. It was my brother and sister-in-law's first anniversary, and they headed to Reno for a few days of R & R, leaving the kiddies to myself, my mom and my dad.

Happy Anniversary to Nate and Sarah! (Rylee and I at their wedding)

So, on Friday night I hit the road and headed up north. Although the drive can be nearly 4 hours with traffic, I actually love the opportunity it gives me to just, think. Or not think. I feel like I am constantly checking things-- my email, text messages, Facebook, Twitter, but being in the car you don't have to/can't, so it makes for a few hours of pure, interrupted time to gather my thoughts and work a few things out.

Saturday morning dawned bright and...HOT. Apparently the Sacramento Valley doesn't know it's fall, so it was nearly 80 degrees at 8 a.m. when I crawled out of bed to the sound of a teeny, tiny five year old voice chirping at my door, "Auntie Cait, are you here?!"

David!

I opened the door of our guest bedroom to a beautiful, blonde-haired blue-eyed cutie with a huge smile just waiting to be picked up and carried into the kitchen.

"Hey little peanut!" I exclaimed, a bit groggily, as I swooped up my darling niece, Rylee, and we sauntered into the kitchen where Grandmama (as my mother insists she be called) was making some french toast for us. Perfect way to start the day.

A few minutes later, the men of the house appeared, Papa and my nephew David, who just turned one.

Now, David is the absolute most charming little creature I've ever come in contact with. He has this darling little smile and charges around the house on the chubbiest little legs I've ever seen, getting into EVERYTHING. He pulls open cupboards, eats dirt and grabs literally anything he can reach, so he has to be under constant supervision. He's cute, but a lot of work. I don't know how my sister-in-law does it!

The rest of the day consisted of lunch with my Grandfather (so, Rylee's Great Grandfather) at Olive Garden, and then a little girls outing with just me and Rylee. We got ice cream, did some shopping and just generally has some quality auntie time. I had to use nearly all of my will power to resist buying her a cupcake Halloween costume (apparently she already has a costume, boo), and we of course hit up See's Candy, one of my favorite places to visit when I got home.

Upon our arrival home, we were immediately put to work in the garden, harvesting some veggies for our evening salad. Mother and Father are way off into growing their own food (such hippies, I love it!), so Rylee and I headed our to the garden to pick tomatoes and carrots.

 Rylee and I in the garden

After an amazing dinner, we watch one of my all-time favorite movies, Rio, and headed to bed. Rylee set up her little toddler bed in my room and we had a grown-up girls sleepover, where we chatted long into the night (okay, like 9:30, Auntie Cait was way tired).

On Sunday, Mother gave a talk in church. Since my Dad is in the bishopric, this meant I had to sit with the kiddies by myself in the pew during sacrament. Luckily, Sir David was a bit sleepy, and if I rubbed his little head enough, he would lightly doze off--such a man. Rylee an absolute sweetheart (as always) and we survived the service with minimal disasters.

Hanging out with the kiddies always teaches me a few things. Listed in order of importance.

1. I do, in fact, really want children. They are hilarious and I can honestly see the joy they bring into your life. Their sweet, innocent and unconditional love is inspiring and definitely something I am looking forward to.

2. If I get the privilege of being a stay at home mom, I will likely still need a nanny. Or at the very least a housekeeper. Or a really, really helpful mother-in-law.

3. Germs are a fact of life. You know I hate bacteria, but with kids, it's a reality. I am going to be one of those moms chasing her kids around with a clorox wipe and hand sanitizer constantly. Great.

4. I am really grateful for all of the opportunities I've has thus far to live such a rich life full of experiences that have helped me grow. Finishing college, studying abroad and working in the city are all things I think will make me a better mom. I can cope with stress fairly flawlessly, and have a broad world view that I believe I'll be able to pass on to my little ones and hopefully help them have the ability empathize with others and get along with those who are different from them.

5. Having kids means always putting someone else first, which is why I am so glad I'll likely be a bit of an older mom. This kind of goes hand in hand with why I am glad I didn't get married super young, because I am not sure I would have had the ability to always put someone else's needs before mine 100% of the time in my early 20's. But, now that I am officially in my mid-20's I feel like I am more and more becoming mature enough to truly have the ability to think about someone else first, always.

Needless to say, I have since overcome my aversion to babysitting, thanks to my amazing, adorable niece and nephew.

All in all, it was a wonderful weekend, and I am so blessed to have such a wonderful family. I am so grateful for my brother and sister-in-law, I love them so much!

xoxo

Ask Me Where I've Been

I once saw a quote that I'll never forget. It said, "Stories are for those late nights when you can't remember how you got from where you were to are." I haven't really thought about it lately, but last weekend two of my best college friends came to visit me in the city and we went to a Giant's game. We ended up getting into a conversation that made me reflect on how I got from where I was to where I am.

We were reminiscing about a few of the many late nights we spent traipsing around downtown Chico, bar hopping from The Bear to Panamas to Joes, chatting, dancing and enjoying life as young 20- somethings. Some of my fondest memories from college are the summers in northern California, where the temperature doesn't drop below 80 degrees and the whole world seems to stop for a few hours so you can enjoy the time you have a college kid--living young and wild and free (yes, I did just quote Snoop Dogg. Don't act surprised.)

We won!

One of the evenings we couldn't help but laugh about was my 24th birthday. It was the night before I graduated with my bachelors and Sarah (Best), Meghan and Sarah (Mann) took me out to Spice Creek for a little celebration before we headed out on the town. It was one of my favorite nights, mostly because it ended with Sarah (Best) barefoot in 7-11 claiming that her shoes were stuck on her hands (which, they kind of were) and us almost being lured into a mysterious cab with promises of smoking weed with some guys Sarah (Mann) swore were in one of her freshman English classes (they weren't).

The infamous birthday evening. Happy 24th to me!

As our laughter subsided, both Meghan and Sarah noted how much things had changed since those days. Not only because they are both now in serious relationships, but also because when I moved to San Francisco, I made the decision to start over in a lot of ways. I did an incredible amount of soul searching during my years living in the 530--I learned more about myself than I believe I could have had I stayed at a church school.

Sarah (Mann) Nikki and I before a night out in Aix

I needed those years to let a few things play themselves out. I needed those years to test my boundaries. I needed those years to become friends with people who were incredibly different than me. I needed those years to make sure I had no regrets later.

I had a Bishop in a ward when I was living in Davis who said something during Sunday school I will never forget. He said it off-handedly, but it stuck with me. He said this: some people have to touch the stove to know it's hot. I never thought of myself as that kind of a person, but as I reflect back on my wonderful time in Chico, I touched the stove many, many times.

Sarah (Best) and I the summer before I left for La France

So, what did I learn from all of this? That I am happiest when I am living in accordance with what I know is right. A wise friend once told me, "well, you know you're happiest when you're keeping the commandments, so, go with that." That, too, was something said off-handedly, but it has come to my mind often since he said it.

I also think (for people who need it) a little time off the beaten track gives you the wisdom and insight to make better choices, later. It can give you compassion and empathy you might not ordinarily have had for those who, to others, may seem lost.

I think it can be easy for those who haven't spend any time wandering to think, "well, if I can do it, why can't they?" but it's just not that simple. We are all so different, which is the beauty of life here on earth. We have the ability to be there for one another through times of hardship--whether self-inflicted or not, and lend a listening ear, a helping hand or a well-shaped shoulder.

I am grateful for the time I spend finding my way. It made me appreciate the light that the gospel brings into my life and helped me gain the knowledge I so desperately needed to carry on.

I couldn't end this post without a giving a shout-out to my wonderful, wonderful ward here in SF. For those of you wondering, a ward is Mormon lingo for congregation (based on a geographic boundary) that members are assigned to be in. The ward I attend is made of up young single adults ages 18-31 and I love them all so, so dearly. We have the most wonderful teachers, incredibly faithful leaders and ridiculously good looking (not to mention patient and kind) elder's quorum ever.

xoxo

Adventure Time and Other Friday Night Festivities

Being an adult is hard.

If you know me well, you know the adjustment from spunky college co-ed to stellar young professional has been...bumpy. I've spent a fairly significant amount of time over the last 13 months seriously questioning my decision to apply for graduation, but as I rounded my 25th birthday in May, things started to change.

I started to get a routine down. I started to know what to do at least 80% of the time. I started chatting with people at church after sacrament meeting.

And so the shift began.

I can't quite pinpoint when it happened, but I think it was somewhere in between regularly doing my visiting teaching (love you Paola) and joining my now besties in the ward for weekly run club at Nike Town that I finally started to feel like San Francisco was home, and it was the place I needed to be.

Getting my job here happened so fast last summer that I barely had time to consider if this was the plan for me--I just kind of did it (which is SO what I do).

Act first, think later. It's something I'm working on.

Needless to say, my weekends have been absolute insanity ever since I decided to start talking to people. I have totally embraced the social me that once was, and have been forming friendships with those in the ward that will likely last a lifetime.

That said, last night was one of my favorite nights of the summer. Not only was it spent with some of the best people I know, but it was just the relaxing Friday night I so desperately needed after weeks and weeks of madness in all aspects of my life.

I have this bestie in the ward, Kirsten, who I have increasingly been spending my time with. She is the free-spirited vagabond I aspire to be, as well as a constant voice of reason when it comes to advice on dating and relationships. She is also the one who introduced me to the show for which this post is titled: Adventure Time.

But lemme back up for a hot second. Kirsten hasn't always been the Adventure Time guru that stands before us today. She too, had to be inducted into the AT fan club, via two fabulous boys in the ward who have loved the show for a while. After she fell in love, she passed the delight onto me and now we  are official fans.

The basic premise of the show is a boy and his magical dog that have adventures. As with most cartoons, there's a lot more than meets the eye, and as a adult you can sometimes see the plot lines parallel real-life issues, like feelings of jealousy, overcoming fear, loyalty to friends and disdain for physical contact.

Finn and Jake (boy and dog) also live in a candy kingdom, which makes for some interesting characters and friends, such as Princess Bubblegum, Cinnamon Bun and Dr. Ice Cream. I have a few favorites and a few not-so-favorites.

Kirsten's amazing Finn cupcakes!

So, back to last night. We decided that after a long, long week we needed to just sit around, eat food and watch cartoons. I'm going to be real, that's an ideal Friday night for me when I am in the mood for rejuvenation. So,  after work, Kirsten and I hopped into the car and headed over to the boys' house for the evening to begin.

After grabbing some amazing Mexican food (always a favorite of mine), we settled in for a few hours of the land of Ooo, cracking up at Finn and Jake as they conquered the universe, one Hug-a-Wolf at a time.

As I dropped Kirsten off at home and headed back to my abode, I reflected on how much things have changed in the last five months. I thought about how comfortable I am with the city, how natural living here feels and what an excellent opportunity the last year has been to grow in ways I didn't even think needed work.

As I pulled into my garage, climbed the stairs and collapsed into bed, I couldn't help but be excited for Saturday to come, as it was sure to be filled with...adventure.

xoxo

Summers in SF: A Love Story

...and by love I basically mean hate.

There I was, standing on the corner of foggy and freezing waiting for my horse-drawn carriage  muni to swoop me up and cart me off to work the other Wednesday morning, (which I had so ridiculously deemed "no jacket Wednesday." Sometimes I seriously question my judgement) and I had goosebumps literally all over my arms and legs.

I was wearing my fabulous turquoise Ralph Lauren boyfriend shirt dress that I always get compliments on, and unfortunately had missed the most recent street car, which at 7:45 am meant I was in for a good 15 min wait.

For most of my life, a September morning meant shorts, a t-shirt with maybe a light sweater, and flip flops. Since I spent my growing up years in a climate that got above 105 on the daily during the summer, I have always been a bit hesitant to don a jacket and scarf during the sacred months of May-September.

San Francisco is quite another story, however. I love, love, love living here, but some days I think if my legs are freezing for a single second longer I will literally scream.

There is, however, a light at the end of the tunnel: September.

Well, so I am told.

The city by the bay is well known by the natives for having an "indian summer," meaning that a heat wave hits during the fall months.

Having this sacred knowledge, some gals pals in the ward and I were having dinner one Sunday night and decided to have a fall kick off party.

But wait.

Summer in SF hadn't happened yet! How could we bob for apples and carve pumpkins when we had barely been to the beach!? Blasphemy.

So, what did we decide to do? Throw an SF summer party, duh.

And we did exactly that! We chose the theme of The Hamptons (of course suggested by me. You know a girl has dreams of being invited to P-Diddy's white party in Southampton someday. It's going to happen. You just wait.)

People were invited to wear their equestrian best--with polos, nautical stripes and anything argyle.

It was a huge success.

xoxo

OMG: Glee Is Totally Back

So, you know how I have a love/hate relationship with Glee, right?

Over the last three seasons, Glee has been a topsy, turvy hot mess of emotion for me.

I love Finnchel, I hate Finnchel.

I think the New Directions deserve to win at any cost. I publicly claim their performance at regionals  was LAME and they deserve to lose.

Basically, I spent the last three seasons walking away from each Glee episode either emotionally elated or desperately deflated. Most of my conflict with the show had to do with the fact that my all-time favorite male lead--sweet, strong Finn-- lost basically all of his sincerity and let's be real, masculinity, by the time the end of season rolled around and I was sorely disappointed.

Thought I was sad, I still decided to give it one last chance and watched the premier of season 4.

Best.Idea.Ever.

Glee is back, big time. With re-occurring guest star Kate Hudson (who I absolutely LOVE as a fellow smiley blonde) playing Rachel's evil dance teacher at NYADA and Marley Rose, played by newcomer Melissa Benoist, who's mom is the lunch lady the entire school is clowning, the conflict, drama and triumph is running rampant again this season.

This week's episode dawned with one Ms. Rachel Berry practicing her high kick at ballet class in New York City and the now seniors holding auditions for Glee club--which is now wildly popular thanks to their win at nationals at the end of last year.

Back in Ohio, I have a few questions, starting with: Where's Mike Chang? Did he go to college? Tina is for def not as cool sans her incredible dancer BF. Bummer. I miss him already.

Also: is Mr. Shue less Shue-yer than usual? Maybe that gingham shirt he was wearing the ENTIRE episode has gone to his head. Or his pants are too tight. Oh wait, that's always been the case. Whatevs.

Also, this just in, who's the hottie Rachel meets in the bathroom in her dorms, can we please see more of him? Can they just date? Okay, great.

Long story short, I am going to branch out on my usual dramatic limb and say this: Glee gives me a perspective on life I sometimes so sorely lack. It helps me get out of my own head and think about the things that really matter--love, acceptance, embracing diversity and show tunes.

xoxo