Saturday, July 23, 2011

Maple Stirrup

I was given my first pair of roller skates when I was 4 or 5. They were white faux leather with pink straps, pink wheels, and a small photo of Barbie on the side. My parents bought them for me for my birthday, I believe - I adored them.

I remember wearing them around the house, scuffing up the linoleum in the kitchen as my unsure feet found their way into a gliding rhythm. When I could finally stand on my own in my skates, my Nana took me to the skating rink each Saturday morning. Before we left in the mornings, she would make me creamed egg sandwiches with extra pepper, stating that eggs would make me strong. We would listen to Neil Diamond on our way to the rink.

Sweet caroling, bah bah bahhhh.
Good times never seemed so good, so good so good so good.

The rink was always cold and Nana always brought us sweatshirts - Kansas City Chiefs for Nana, Kansas City Chiefs for me. She would sit cross legged on the floor and gently put my small feet into my Barbie skates and then lace up her skates, pulling her pants over the tops of the boots. Skating on the carpet was always easier than skating in the rink so she always held my hand for the first few laps around the rink, letting me decide when to let go.

We skated from 9-11am, forever in a child's eyes. We skated because Nana loved to skate. I skated because I wanted to be with my Nana.

I don't remember when we stopped going skating together exactly. I'm sure it was a result of a multitude of factors: my parents got divorced, Nana lost her leg above the knee, I started growing up. I just remember one day realizing that skating wasn't a part of my life anymore and being sad.

By the time I had this realization I was 11 and no one really roller skated anymore - it was all about in-line skating, roller blading, and I had moved to a city where skate night happened on Friday nights. Friday nights full of teenagers and testosterone. I hated renting skates just to hang out with my friends and begged for a pair of roller blades. I never got pink Barbie roller blades. Instead, my mom bought me a pair of black and blue blades that I would take to Great Skate every Friday night to line my wrists with glow bracelets and hope for a shot at couple skating with the cutest boy there. I skated because everyone else was. I skated to be closer to cute boys, and when I turned 12 I had a skating birthday party. But fate had the greatest irony planned for my 12th birthday: I dislocated my knee playing volleyball in P.E. just two days before my already booked party. I would have to sit out on the bleachers as I watched everyone at my birthday party skate around the rink. I watched as my best friend at the time, got to couple skate with the boy of my young dreams.

I stopped skating after that.

Up until two weeks ago, it had been nearly 12 years since the last time I skated. I hadn't even stepped foot into a rink. Not because it brought back bad memories, but it was more like I didn't care, didn't have a passion or a reason to do it again. I had graduated college, gotten married, and worked full time, but didn't have a hobby of any kind. After a few friendly conversations with a co-worker and a good friend from high school, I decided I would try skating again. I gathered up a friend to skate with me and brought along my husband and a few other friends to act as a support system, and I skated for the first time in 12 years - at a local all women's roller derby rookie practice.

I sweat for what seemed like hours as we did endurance laps around the rink, practiced safe falling and stopping, but no matter how many times I hit my knees or banged my elbow, I kept going back for more. The adrenaline high after practice was unlike anything I had ever felt. I couldn't sleep though it was midnight, all I could think about was skating. I had my first taste of roller derby and I had an insatiable appetite for more. I went to open skate. I met more people. I studied tutorials of juking and blocking and bouts of competitor teams. I learned about outdoor skates and rules and regulations. I couldn't get enough.

My family and close friends say I'm too frail for roller derby - Bird Bones as Joseph calls me. I say they're wrong. For the first time in my life, I want to skate for me. I am skating to remind me of my Nana, to remind me of my youth, but most of all I'm skating to discover who I am. I don't want to get all philosophical or cliche about it, but I feel more comfortable in a derby skin than I have anywhere else in a long time. I feel like I fit in and that I can be good at something other than academics. I get to be a banker by day and a fierce derby girl by night.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

For being a writer, I'm pretty terrible about keeping up a blog. I scribble notes into the margins of my planner and onto receipts found in the depths of my purse – but cannot seem to translate these spur of the moment thoughts, feelings, hopes, desires, etc into blogging. I swear, I do write – quite a bit actually, but most of the time no one gets to read it. I keep my little notes of frivolous diction tucked away, usually throwing them away, haphazardly, with old grocery lists and gum wrappers. A bit of a waste I suppose.


Cliffnoted version of my life for the past two months:



After 5 years and $60,000 + in student loan debt, I finally graduated from a major university. I entered into the ranks of those who hold a college degree but are employed in a field totally different than their specialty area. I opted to switch into a full-time position at the bank I work at as a consumer banking representative – a.k.a.: totally not using my English and publishing degree in the manner in which I obtained it. I guess the first strike against my future was choosing such an ambiguous degree area like English. "What are you going to do with that? Be a teacher?" – I've been asked many times. I always respond with "No." with a tinge of uncertainty in my voice.  I mean, I love teachers, I really do. Half of my in-laws (teaser for the next section!!) are teachers and they're fabulous at what they do, but I don't think that I could have that kind of job every day.


So, no, I will not be employed as a teacher in my immediate future. I will remain employed at the bank which has paid my bills and provided so many friendships for the past three years, until something fabulous and life-changing opens up for me. My options are open and my passion is bountiful.



Remember that time Joseph and I got married in June 2011? I do – it was awesome. We were married on a hot Sunday, Father's Day actually (it was much cheaper that way). I wore a pretty dress and hot pink shoes and carried a bouquet that my mother made, wrapped in lace with trinkets from my grandmother and great grandmother adorning the lace covered stems. I had the most important people in my life all under one roof, celebrating with us. My best friend stood right behind me, holding my bouquet and straightening my train. Later, she sang along to the tinkering guitar melodies of a wonderful musician and even better friend, as we served communion to our friends and family. The most wonderful fuzzy man I have ever met stood in front of me, reading me his vows from a post-it note – quoting "Star Wars" of all things.


We drank PBR and cheap wine, ate homemade pulled pork and baked beans, sang along to indie renditions of Miley Cyrus' "See You Again" and Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline". Our entire wedding party and friends intermingled in a dramatic fashion while singing along to Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." Joseph danced with his mother – her Bugger Bear had grown up. I danced with my father – it was better than any 'Daddy Daughter Dance Night" that we could've gone to in elementary school. We remembered those we had lost and celebrated with those we still had. We left as husband and wife.

People ask me what married life is like and I don't quite know how to answer that. It's as if nothing has changed but at the same time, everything has changed. Joseph and I found out two years ago what it was like to live with the person you love, so the post-wedding cohabiting wasn't a fear for us.  My initials didn't even change, ANW to ANW. I did, however, lose 5 letters from the entirety of my name – less work for me!  But even with all these simple non-changes, everything felt differently. Suddenly, if we fought, it felt like there was more to fight for, more to save. The stakes were higher. We were legally and spiritually bound to one another. It was such a big moment when I realized that I was no longer a single lady in the eyes of the law. I had a husband now.


What does a feminist do when she gets married?

If she's anything like me she would cook whatever she wanted, try new hair colors and styles, work 40 hours a week, try new beers and wines, love her herself regardless of any honeymoon weight gained, love her husband something fierce, and – join the local roller derby team.


More on that later.





Saturday, January 22, 2011

Saturday Mornings

It its impossible for me to sleep in, and I hate it. Today is one of the first Saturday's that I have had off in a while where I haven't had ANYTHING to do with it. So my initial plan was to:

1) Enjoy some beer on a Friday night, knowing that I didn't have to wake up early on Saturday.

2) Watch movies with my manfriend and stay up SUPER late.

3) Wear awesome PJs and break out my down comforter, nuzzle into our bed and be happy.

4) Sleep until like noon.

5) Have a can of soda with my toast for breakfast.

6) Go on about my day.

But no. That just can't happen for me. It was snowing so much last night that I remained at home, beerless, and drank juice with some homemade chili-cheese fries. So at least the fries portion was relatively okay. As for movies with Joseph, I snuggled up on the couch in my awesome PJs as we started our traditional one episode of British TVs "Top Gear" and ogled over the fast and overpriced cars - I fell asleep. It was 10:30pm, mind you. I am such a grown up that I can't make it past 10:30pm anymore.

Once I woke up enough to make it up the stairs to bed, I forgot to liberate my down comforter from the confines of my closet, and just got into bed and fell back asleep. But here's the kicker: I woke up at a ridiculous 7:30am. It's like I'm trained to wake up then so I can be at the bank by 8:25am. So I laid there, looking through pictures in my phone, catching up with some much needed personal reading, until 8:45am when Joseph woke up.

I mean, I guess I didn't kill everything on my list, I can still enjoy a can of diet cream soda while I eat my toast with sunflower butter and jelly, and go about my day. I even tried to watch Saturday morning cartoons since I was up so early. But it all seems kind of pointless now.

Oh the joys of growing old!

Wednesday, January 19, 2011


I don't know whether to blame it on all of the Food Network I watch or on my participation in the Weight Watchers program, but I think I am becoming a foodie. Perhaps even a food snob. I am quickly becoming turned off by purchasing processed food and have this strange and intense desire to create most of what I eat. I don't even have much of a desire to go out to eat anymore. I am anxious and excited everyday to create something new for myself and my manfriend.

I can't go to B&N without wanting to buy every cookbook I see. I can't get online without wanting to scout out the latest and greatest food blogs I can find.








Cooking with beer.

Cooking with cheese.

So I guess my questions are: Is this what happens when you grow up? Do we suddenly become supremely conscious beings who are aware of everything we put in our mouths? Are we wired to switch into grown-up mode and begin to make good nutritional choices? What do I do on a limited budget with an appetite for the finer things in life?

I'll start one recipe at a time.

First one up: Traditional New Mexico Red Chile Cheese Stacked Enchiladas - courtesy of my Uncle Peter and Bobby Flay.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Things in my world are about to be shaken up.

In four months, I will be the first person in my nuclear family to graduate college. For the last 17 years I have been identified by my academic abilities, but that is about to change. I have always been the smart, responsible, and driven girl. My biggest goal in life since I was a 6 year old girl in pink sweatpants was to graduate from college. It has always been my belief that education is sexy, knowledge is attractive, and smart girls rule the world.

And I am 119 days away from emboding those beliefs. It's time for me to set my sights on a new path of action. I need to learn who I am as a 23 year old woman outside of the classroom and the textbooks. I want to know who I am other than the smart girl. I want to be defined by more than just my academic achievements and the moments that surround them. I want to be more.

I am going to force myself to learn more about being me than I ever have before. I'm going to do new things and go new places. I'm going to discover and reinvent. It's time.

I am going to cook a new recipe every week, and tell you about it.
I am going to learn more about God and shape my beliefs.
I am going to build up my self-esteem and learn to love myself.
I am going to volunteer with women and children and show them unconditional love.
I am going to love my future husband more passionately and wonderfully than ever before.
I am going to pay off debts and save up for our future.
I am going to learn how to be me, the me that's not a student, but an intellegent, cosmopolitain woman.

And this is where I am going to do it.

"One day I will walk the walk and know exactly what I am doing here, but until then, may there be enough wine for us all." - Ryan Adams

"To all my little Hulkamaniacs, say your prayers, take your vitamins and you will never go wrong." - Hulk Hogan

Enjoy the journey.