musings – Page 4 – Lauren Warnecke

Leaving my heart in San Francisco…

Want the truth?

It is dangerously easy to fall in love with this city…

I had the teensiest of legs up coming to San Francisco for the Dance/USA conference in that I was born in the area and had family I could stay with. Because we’d often come back to visit, I’ve seen the major sites already: The Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, Fisherman’s Wharf, Pier 39, Ghiradelli Square, Lombard Street, and the list goes on.

So, knowing I had limited time outside of a conference room during my three days here I didn’t want to revisit things I’ve already seen.

I chose, instead, to just walk.

Even though I’ve been here a countless number of times, this is the first time I’ve visited as an adult. I was surprisingly disoriented, being used to a really strict grid system, but SF is quite small by comparison to Chicago and after I got my bearings I really started to enjoy my walking tours and trips on the BART.

Without any goals or preconceived destinations, I feel like I got to walk among San Franciscans as if I was one of them, and, I gotta tell you, I could get used to that. In both neighborhoods I visited (Union Square and The Mission) I found happy accidents such as live music performances, farmers markets, and fantastic murals to gaze at. Not to mention the fantastic weather and interesting mix of Victorian and Spanish Colonial architecture.

In most cities I feel like I have to squeeze it all in. I have to see as much as possible in a limited amount of time, and take the city by storm. Rarely do you get the opportunity to sink in and go at a normal pace, and maybe it’s for that reason that you start to miss home or feel like “it’s a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there”.

San Francisco was dangerously different. I never felt like a tourist (even when I was wearing a big conference name tag). I fit right in. I didn’t feel like walking the bridge or hitting the nightlife; I felt like shopping for deli meat and bananas. It felt like home.

Does San Francisco have this effect on everyone, or is it just me?

San Francisco

A quick plug showing some lovin’ for Bloglovin

Much like Mailchimp is the sarcastic, hipster version of Constant Contact, I recently came across Bloglovin as an alternative reader that’s equally witty and totally user-friendly. I won’t faun over it like I did Workflowy, but if you’re looking to coral all your favorite blogs in one place, this might be the reader for you!

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Cheers!

Grounding and granola

I admit it. I have a easy time making goals, and a hard time keeping them. Some say I’m over-committed, others say I’m wishy-washy. Over ambitious. Unrealistic. Even simply a jerk for making promises that I can’t possibly keep.

In a last-minute lenten experiment in February I swore off the vending machine for 60 days, and hopefully for good. While it might seem trivial, this was no small feat for me. Perhaps more so because of my reputation for making and breaking goals, as time wore on my chemical dependence on sugar and chemical additives faded and my resolve grew stronger.

And I did it.

It’s in those dark moments of your life that you go toward the toxic things that give you shallow comfort. It could be drugs or alcohol; cigarettes or food. For me, the vending machine was that thing. So I find it particularly awesome that during a particularly chaotic time for me I haven’t strayed off the path. Even after Easter came and went.

How did you do it, Lauren!?!

Simple: granola.

I can’t completely deny my personality – I’m a person that requires a pacifier from time to time. I replaced M & M’s with granola and yogurt, nature, and namaste. Not only did this satisfy my need for a crutch, it gave me energy and health and fortitude. And now, not a day goes by that I don’t get a little granola in my life.

Loosing my religion: Lent

I’m Catholic, technically,

but fully admit that I’m not at all Catholic.

However, in a moment of religious fervor, I decided that Lent is a pretty good idea. I mean, giving up something excessive for the sake of understanding that you don’t need it is an exercise in self-control and a reminder that we live in a world of obscene abundance.

My friend Erin is currently sweating it out in Benin, Africa as a Peace Corps volunteer, bathing out of ceramic pots. So, it’s pretty much the least I could do to put the kabbash on the vending machine.

The vending machine and I have had a tumultuous relationship, at best. We’ve had our ups and downs, but mostly downs. Nothing from the vending machine tastes good. Nothing from the vending machine makes me feel good.

After a particularly rough “Fat Ash Wednesday”, I’ve joined up on this lenten hootenanny and sworn off those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad chips, and chocolates, and fruit snacks for the next 39 days.

But really, I hope this is the Lent that never ends.

Cool as a cucumber

Who am I kidding?

Life has gotten a little overwhelming these days, and so has my cucumber patch. Back in July I planted two cute little cucumber plants, that have proceeded to take over the rock in front of them (meant to divert them from growing into the grass, the fence, the neighbor’s side of the fence, and a big lady statue that came with the house. As a result, we’ve been eating cucumbers every day since late July and making lots, and lots, and lots of pickles. Basically, friends and family can expect pickles as Solstichristmakwanzukah gifts and we will still have enough to get us through the winter.

I’d love to say that I’m thriving in the excitement of the 58 hours of work, home renovations (we plastered and painted BOTH bedrooms last weekend), and part-time freelance dance gigs. Generally speaking, I crave a busy schedule and function better when I have plenty of things to occupy my head space.

But I think last week I realized what my limits are. When you can’t find the time to go to the dentist, brush your hair, or feed your cats, maybe it’s become a bit too much.

If I’m to be my best self, all the time, I’m going to have to figure out what the balance is between busy and TOO busy.

I guess you have to experience the extremes before you can find that sweet spot where you have enough things on your plate to feel important, but also enough time and energy to putts around at home and pick cucumbers.

Two doors in two days

I received such generous support on my Facebook post yesterday regarding one idiot driver who perceived the bike lane on Halstead St. as a free ticket to exit his vehicle without looking in the side mirror. I mean, it’s not like bikes ride in the bike lane anyway.

Let me recreate the scenario:

I’m riding through Greektown during the lunch hour (against better judgement).

Car driver X opens his door at the precise moment I’m passing his car.

I swerve.

He continues to get out of his car.

I yell. “Jesus!”

He mutters “…sorry…”

“…sorry…”

I’d like to emphasize that the ellipses and all lowercase letters are meant to indicate the relaxed, nonchalant tone with with the driver responded. Awesome. However, I lived to ride again – and today I was decked head to toe in electric green. This afternoon, as I was riding home on Diversey a lady opened her door on me.

Let me recreate the scenario:

I’m riding West on Diversey wearing an electric green jersey, neon blue and green flowered helmet, matching sunglasses, and bright red shoes, with my super bright “Mr Blinky” light turned on.

Car driver Y opens her door at the precise moment I’m passing her car.

I swerve.

She continues to get out of her car.

I yell. “Jesus!!!! Lady!!!”

She mutters, “I saw you….”

Okay. Look:

*steps on soap box*

Bike lanes occasionally have bikes riding down them. Look in your mirror. Roads without bike lanes also occasionally have bikes riding down them. If you look in your mirror and see a bike coming, don’t get out of the car. Count to two, and let the bleeping bike pass.

I’m not a bike messenger. I’m not even a hipster. I’m just a girl who doesn’t have her own car, doesn’t want to pay for the bus, and likes to get a little exercise from time to time.

My very life is in your hands, drivers.

Share the road.

*steps down from soap box*

Jesus.

Zen and the Art of Reno

I knew that renovating a home wasn’t going to be easy, and at times that it wasn’t even going to be fun. What I wasn’t prepared for was the emotional highs and lows of living there while it was going on. I suppose I’ve adjusted fine to living in a chaotic environment (from a lady who thrives on routine), but to exist in one in which I don’t see progress is frustrating. Plus, all the things I usually do to relieve stress, like knit, or workout, or cook, aren’t possible because the things I need to do those things are either still in boxes or covered with a tarp, or dust, or both. Awesome.

But here’s the uplifting point in this mild rant: this week our new place is still dusty and still chaotic and still under construction, but we are starting to see progress. In renos and in life, progress is important. You can deal with a lot as long as you feel like today was a day that you got closer to your goal.