Kristie's Choice for March

Wow, what a bummer.  I had this week's blog all written before I left for a trip and set to self-publish and somehow it disappeared.  I will try to recreate as best I can.

Since we are watching our figures (wax or wane I'm not sure), I thought I would look for some healthy snacks.  Jamba Juice Popsicles  are calorie friendly and affordable at your local Walmart.

Park City Coffee Roasters Latte
I'm not sure about you, but I'm getting a little bored with Starbucks.  I prefer my designer drinks with plenty of frothy foam and with a happy design on top such as a snowflake or  heart.  It seems that Park City Coffee Roaster is the only joint in town capable of pulling this off.  They have recently added beer and wine to their  menu, as well as more seating.  It is a good place for a casual business meeting, or to rendezvous with a friend and catch up.  If I'm going to pay $5 for a cup of coffee, it better look like this...

The Everywhereist
When I first began my endeavor to start a blog, I did a bit of research.  Time Magazine rated the best blogs of 2011.  There were many "helpful" websites and more than a few devoted to the trials and tribulations of being a mom, but this was my favorite.  Geraldine left her job to follow her husband around the world while he travels for work.  She is a creative and witty writer; I particularly enjoy "WTF Wednesdays", "Food Porn Fridays", and "Dick Move of the Week".   This is a good indicator of just how bad a sales person I am, I'm actually recommending the competition.
http://www.everywhereist.com/



Rescue Repair for Split Ends
This stuff is awesome.  Of course I just paid $15 for it at the salon and just found it on amazon for $9, thus perpetuating my love/hate relationship with amazon.  http://www.amazon.com/Schwarzkopf-Bonacure-Repair-Sealed-Colors/dp/B000ULRDJU

Sonia Kashuk Perfectly Neutral Palette in color 10

Last time I got my hair color refreshed, I was able to peruse several beauty magazines for much needed advice.  Of course, I was drawn to Newsweek, WSJ, and Forbes, but I took one for the team and instead read InStyle, Vogue and Bazaar.  One article indicated that a bit of champagne shadow is flattering for all, but particularly those in the middle aged bracket.  I found the neutral palette below at Target.  It is perfect because it has a built in neutralizer that you apply to your lids to get rid of redness, veins, etc.  In yet another article I read that to achieve an alluring effect you should apply the "medium" shade in the center of your eyelid, the lighter shade toward the inside of your eyelid, and the darkest shade extending out to the corner of your lid.  Then apply mascara and THEN eyeliner.  This is different from how I have been doing things for the last 30 years, so I thought I would bring you all up to speed and make the world a little more alluring.

Self Tanner
With spring fast approaching, our bodies ever expanding, and skin cancer always looming, self tanner is a must before any post -hibernation bodily revelation.  The most professional (and most exposed) option is to have a tanning professional spray tanner on you at a tanning salon.  The next best solution is to rotate yourself like a rotisserie chicken in one of the stand up spray tan booths.  However, if neither of these are in your future, there are some at-home options that will work nicely.

Nivea Sun-kissed Radiant Skin Self Tanner offers a natural looking tan that you build over time, with no streaks.  Available at most drug and grocery stores.

If you need a darker tan fast, definitely go for the Fake Bake.  Available on Amazon and possibly Sephora. You will need to apply it with gloves, and it looks streaky at first, but the next day in the shower, the streaks come off to reveal a glowing tan.  I recommend application at least two days prior to your event.  You will need to enlist help to reach your nether regions.  This is one of my husband's favorite jobs.

Katherine McPhee Workout
Finally, with regard to spring break preparation, I offer an efficient workout from Katherine McPhee in Self Magazine.  If you skip the stretching, it can be done in an hour.  Often if I am feeling strong I increase the weights and reps.  It can be done at home or at the gym, you need access to a treadmill (or run outside) and preferably a stationary bike, but not necessary.  Three minutes of jumping rope seems like an eternity, so nine minutes is close to infinity.  The jump rope kicked my ass.  And my bladder.

- Five minutes on the treadmill at six miles per hour
- Total body stretches
- 20 jumping jacks
- 10 push-ups
- Upper body circuit: 10 one-arm rows, 10 lateral side rises, 10 front rises and 10 bicep curls going into overhead press with five-pound weights
- Five push-ups
- Five burpees
- 30 seconds of alternating jump lunges
- Running up and down a flight of stairs twice
- Five minutes on a stationary bike at resistance 10 or 15
- 20 jumping jacks
- 10 push-ups
- Abs circuit: 45 crunches (15 regular, 15 pulling knees toward head, 15 with legs straight and hands under butt if needed), 15 full sit-ups, put hands under your butt and do leg flutters for 30 seconds and then scissors for 30 seconds, plank for 30 seconds
- Three-minute run on treadmill at seven miles per hour
- Repeat the abs circuit
- 20 jumping jacks
- 10 push-ups
- Assisted pull-ups (three sets of 10 reps) (do dips on a chair if you can't do pull ups)
- Jump rope for three minutes
- Repeat upper body circuit
- Jump rope for three minutes
- Plank for 30 seconds
- Repeat stair run
- Pull-ups (three sets of six reps)
- Three minutes on a stationary bike at resistance 10
- 10 push-ups
- Jump rope for three minutes

J. Hilburn Men's Clothier

Finally, I would be remiss if I did not include my new semi- employer, J. Hilburn, on my list of favorite things this month.  As of Friday March 30th, I will officially be an Independent Style Consultant (translation: I try to sell high end men's clothing at affordable prices for them and they have no obligation to me).  I made a New Year's Resolution to make some $$$ in 2012 and this is my first attempt at revenue generation.   At no time during my college and grad school toils did I picture myself measuring men and selling them custom dress shirts; but life changes, markets collapse, real estate flails - you have to adapt accordingly.  Not all has gone to waste, I used my hard earned marketing skills to create my own business cards, advertising post cards and thank you notes.  I made two spreadsheets to help me track my contact with potential clients as well as my expenses.  I placed hand lotion and wintergreen mints in my bag so as not to offend any male clientele with my parched appendages and sour breath.  So if you or your significant other are in need of men's clothing made from the finest Italian fabric and crafted by the best Asian tailors, or just need some nice looking clothes for an evening out, contact me at kristie.henderson@jhilburnpartner.com.   Your man may not look exactly like the fellow below when I'm done with him, but I will try my best.

My Dream Day

I was reading Self Magazine and noticed they use the “Typical vs. Dream Day” format to interview celebrities sometimes.  I thought I would try it with my own life.

6:32 am Rise and Shine

My Typical Day:  After a solid 7 hours of sleep (minus the two hours of insomnia I suffered from 3-5 a.m. where I fretted about things outside of my control ), I wake to NPR droning on about the most recent primary election mishap. I move with the dexterity of a 75 year old arthritic woman to the bathroom where I discard my night clothes that are drenched in pre-menopausal sweat. I brush my teeth and make my way to my son’s room to wake him for the day.  He is less than responsive.

My Dream Day:  I wake up and incredibly, I am 28 years old again.  I live in Manhattan and Josh Radnor is my boyfriend.  He brings me French roast coffee in bed with heaps of cream and sugar and makes me scrambled eggs.  I can’t believe how cute he is.

6:45 a.m. Keep Going

My Typical Day: I return to my son’s room.  He is still in a deep slumber.  With great patience and envy I ask him nicely to exit his place of rest.  I proceed downstairs, where the dog is EXTREMELY happy to see me.  I let her out.  I let her in. She is happy to see me all over again.  I put on the kettle for tea and make lunches.

My Dream Day: I would look at my 28 year old self in the mirror and appreciate all of the collagen in my skin, full eyelashes, and soft – yet to be damaged hair. 

6:55 a.m. Get out the door

My Typical Day: I yell upstairs like a banshee “GET UP NOW or we will be late!”  I pack his backpack, and make his breakfast to-go. I meet him by the back door and watch in disbelief as it takes him a full 2 minutes to put his shoes on.  We drive to school in silence while he eats his homemade egg mcmuffin.

My Dream Day: Josh and I decide to attend a kickboxing class at Equinox.  We look and feel so great when we are done that we head back to our apartment for some hot morning sex in the shower.   

8 am. Deal with the Unexpected

My Typical Day: I return from taking my son to school and plan to repeat the whole process again with my daughter; however she has a headache and a stomach ache.  She throws up while I hold her hair back.  I remember that I never got my tea.

My Dream Day:  I put my cellulite free body into a trendy NYC outfit.  Josh and I kiss passionately before we depart for our jobs – He to the movie he is directing and me as editor of Travel and Leisure Magazine – for which my primary responsibilities are traveling leisurely and writing about it.

10 am Mid-Morning wake up call

My Typical Day:  After the second round of vomiting, I take a break from my daughter to look for the dog.  My goal is to use the endless canine enthusiasm to improve my daughter’s spirits.  Upon petting the dog, I realize there is something sticky and hard in her hair.  A quick olfactory test substantiates that it is some form of animal shit.   Her cuddle quotient has just dropped into the negatives.  And I will have to find time to bathe her in between my daughter’s barf intervals.

My Dream Day:  I research my next leisurely travel assignment to the Seychelles Islands.   Buy a teeny bikini online for my trip.  

12 pm Time for Lunch

My Typical Day:  Even though I have been a witness to five hours of dry heaving, I still can muster up an appetite.  In fact I’m starving but don’t have the energy to create anything healthy, so I root around in the pantry for a quick carb fix.  Graham crackers, thin mints and I force down an apple to trick myself into thinking I ate nutritiously.  

My Dream Day:   Josh and I meet for lunch in the meatpacking district.  We are whisked away to the finest outdoor table in the New York spring sunshine and we toast our good fortune with a fine Italian Prosecco.  He agrees to accompany me to the Seychelles if I will make a cameo in his film. 

3 pm  Taking Care of Business

Typical Day:  My daughter has finally calmed down and gone to sleep. I contemplate running on the treadmill, but decide against it for a reason I can no longer remember.  I pay bills, fold laundry, check email, make a grocery list, and dick around on Facebook.

My Dream Day:  After wowing my boss with an incredible pitch to research castles in Prague for my next adventure at Travel and Leisure, Josh calls to see if we can meet for a quick afternoon coffee.  He is so witty, adorable, and young we wind up in bed again!  This time at the Plaza Hotel in a suite.  Suddenly Josh throws up on me and it smells like poop!  There are dishes and laundry all over our bed!  What is happening?  OMG! I think my real world has just collided with my pretend world and the results are disastrous.

6 pm Fine Dining

Typical Day:  After picking my son up from skiing, I make 3 different dinners for various family members.  No one is satisfied.  I clean up and do the dishes.  I strongly encourage my son to finish his homework, while giving my daughter ginger ale and saltines.  

My Dream Day: Josh and I have dinner reservations at the newest Italian place, Marea.  We share the seared sea scallops and lobster ravioli.   We finish with a decadent Tiramisu and authentic espresso.  I’m not worried about being up all night with all of this rich food because a) I’m 28 and these things don’t effect me yet and b) I don’t care if I’m up all night as long as I’m with Josh.

8 pm Evening Entertainment

Typical Day:  Get the kids to shower and into their beds.  Check my daughter’s temperature. Wash everything she has come in contact with over the last 12 hours.  Hope that I somehow got the same bug and will lose 2 pounds over the weekend.  

Dream Day:  Josh gets us tickets to Book of Mormon on Broadway.  We laugh hysterically.  Afterwards, over a nightcap at the Mandarin, we joke about how we could never live in Utah.

10:30 pm Bedtime!

Typical Day:  After spending an hour in the bathroom trying to make myself look 28, I get into bed and listen to my husband laugh at a Beverly Hills Housewives rerun.  I insert my ear plugs and roll over.  He spoons me and I fall asleep fantasizing about Josh Radnor. 

March Madness

I’m not talking about basketball, or even ski racing - both sports culminating in massive amounts of training, races/games, high tension and in some cases questionable gambling throughout the month of March.  For me, March madness symbolizes a different sort of neurosis:  the culmination of 5 months of beauty dormancy.   My body has been completely hidden from view, happily tucked into jeans and sweaters at best, and in many cases layers of long underwear and ski clothes.  All of which seem to easily accommodate my ever-expanding saddle bags and pot belly.   March represents the final phase of comfort food dinners featuring the likes of macaroni and cheese, beef stew and pizza.  My skin and hair are intensely dry from the combination of harsh cold weather and indoor heating.  And perhaps worst of all is the ghastly hue of my skin.  Pale. Waxy. Ashen.  The whitish tint highlights every cellulite bump, unshaven hair, freckle, scar, and unsightly vein on my body.  In March, like no other month, I feel blah all over.  You have heard the old proverb that if March comes in like a lamb it goes out like a lion and visa versa.  In my life, March always comes in like a hippopotamus and (with any luck) will go out like a svelte cheetah, puma or cougar as the case may be.  

Next month, I am thankful to be taking a warm vacation with friends.  I am not looking forward to displaying my post-hibernation figure in a swimsuit for all to see.  I’ve been doing a little recon to see how the Sports Illustrated models get ready for their photo shoot.  (Not that I am at all comparing my Michelin-man self or my family vacation to a swimsuit shoot in exotic Ibiza, because they are NOTHING alike).  While we are all aware that these women are born gorgeous, I’m sure they indulge every once in a while and need to adopt a routine to perfect themselves for the celebrated swimsuit debut.

Here is what I discovered.  3 weeks before the event, the model starts working out twice a day (She didn’t specify  - but I’m assuming around 2 hours, one hour of cardio and one hour of strength training).  She eliminates dairy, meat, sugar and gluten from her diet.  12 days before, she stops eating solid food and only drinks shakes or vegetables and fruits that are juiced.  12 hours before, she eats and drinks absolutely nothing.  Keep in mind that she is probably in her early twenties and has an incredible metabolism.  

Let’s see if I can employ my every day math skills to figure out a similar program for myself.  I am twice her age and my metabolism is at least half as slow.  I am also half her height.  I think this indicates that I need to do twice as much for twice as long.  Ergo, 6 weeks before our vacation I should have started doing 4 hours of workouts per day.  24 days before departure,  I should abstain from solid food and 24 hours before, proceed into starvation and dehydration mode.   This sounds like cruel and unusual punishment that one would suffer at the hands of a demented prison warden.   

Given that I only have 3 weeks until our trip, (and am not into self-inflicted anguish), I have devised another plan:  Two weeks before:  Find large cover-up to fully cover up fat ass.  One week before: Purchase large hat and sun glasses to ensure anonymity. Schedule colonoscopy 24 hours before departure for a full cleansing covered by insurance (5 lbs)! Immediately after colonoscopy drugs wear off, head to tanning salon for a fake spray-on tan (virtual 5 lbs).  Get on the plane:  drink two margaritas to forget about how I look, give my husband the SI Swimsuit issue to ogle, and hope that none of the swimsuit models have chosen to vacation on the same island where I will be.

the world according to remy

Even though my ancestors reign from Portugal and water is my middle name, i can’t swim.  My family seems rather irritated by this peculiar lack of functionality on my part, but hey - Portugal is a long way from Butte Montana, where I was born.  Besides, i can pass for a doodle on a good hair day.  

i have a big brother who wrestles and plays tug of war with me.  Even though we weren’t part of the same litter, we are kindred spirits.  i often sleep with him in his comfortable bed and he even puts a soft pillow under my head.  We create some formidable smells together during the night.

i also have a little sister who is constantly hugging and kissing me.  i try to be patient, but she takes cuddling to the X-factor level.  Recently, she has also invited me into her place of slumber and i reluctantly agree to follow her.  i plant my rear end firmly near her face so she can’t grab my neck for a hug.  She attempts to clothe me, like some sort of commercial build- a-bear, which i loathe.  They should have bought her a small terrier that she could manipulate more easily.  

My dad is not often around, but when he is, he allows me to join him in his special room where he gazes at a screen most of the time.  i round myself into a ball on the leather chair that shares my color and enjoy peace and quiet.

And then, there is my adopted mom.  Our relationship is complicated.  When they first brought me home, i assumed that i was the queen bee or alpha female as they say in the canine domaine.  This bossy woman thought differently.  We battled it out for a couple of months, but her large brain and tight hold on the leash allowed her to triumph in the hierarchy war.  i’m pretty sure she is bi-polar - either she is kissing and hugging me like the little one, or she is yelling at me and banishing me to the outdoors.  The latter takes place every time she grabs ahold of that ridiculously loud robot that she wields around the kitchen.  She also has a strange preoccupation with my paws.  Whenever i return from a jaunt outside, she scrubs them madly with a towel before i am allowed to continue my path through the house.  i find this OCD ritual annoying, but don’t have much choice in the matter.  i do forgive some of her less desirable traits as she is the one who takes me out to explore the world.  She also feeds me that remarkably bland dog chow twice daily.  She has the biggest bed of all, but i am rarely allowed access to this space. 

There are a few special friends that i enjoy adventuring with:  Hoku and Koa claim to be Hawaiian, but they look like black labs to me.  At first Hoku was weary of my presence and gave me several warnings, but as i pose no threat, we have an agreement:  he protects me from other dogs and i don’t bother him.  Koa is like my great uncle, kindly and pleasant, but i run circles around him.  

Schumacher is a stocky fellow like me, but he is less than a foot tall and has supremely long ears and a deep voice.  We dated for a while, but he couldn’t keep up with me on our walks and our courtship ended rather abruptly.

Then there is a Spade.  He is thin, with short prickly black hair and he is faster than a cheetah.  i think his father was a boxer, which accounts for his quick feet.  He always has a ball in his mouth, which i find strangely attractive.  Being a curly haired female brunette, i am no stranger to the butt sniff mambo.  In fact i am quite popular on the trails.  Because of our close relationship, Spade attempts to mount me, which i simply don’t understand.  i do the same thing back to him.  Somewhere in my psyche i sense that i am not equipped for this act, but i do it anyway.  Neither of us derive any pleasure from this activity. 

i know 10 words (which places me in the “average intelligence” category), but through context and situation i actually have a much greater sense of meaning than my family thinks I do.  You will notice that most of the words i know are capitalized and followed by an exclamation point.  No one speaks to me quietly, they assume i am deaf and shout these words as if i were a 98 year old dog, when in reality, i’m only 21.

  

COME! - they either seek out my company because they love me, or they are mad and want to punish me.  If their inflection insinuates the latter, i often pretend i don’t comprehend this word.  

GO! Mostly the bi-polar one yells this to me on the trail when i’m not trotting fast enough.  

SIT!  This is a pleasant word to hear.   After i perform this task, i receive some sort of treat.  i’m still not sure why i need to have my arse on the ground in order to get a cookie, but i comply nonetheless. 

STAY! My arse remains on the ground.

WATCH OUT!  This means that if i proceed any further i am going to experience that egregious shocking sensation around my neck, or that an automobile is approaching.  Either way, i stop in my tracks.  

OK!  This signifies that it is safe to cross the road, or pass through a specified area without high voltage therapy.

NO! i hear this often.  Every day.   Multiple times per day.  

OFF! When i meet someone new, i want to get a better look at their faces so i get up on my haunches.  Apparently, this is considered rude in the human world and i am continually rebuffed for my actions.  When i try to sniff their butt, it is even worse.  i don’t know how i am supposed to get to know these people better.

REMY - this is my adopted name.

LEAVE IT!  i enjoy a little coyote excrement as a delicacy now and then, but boy does my mom go postal about this one. i can’t even repeat some of the words she uses.  Very unladylike.

Here are a few other things i know:   

• When my keen sense of hearing identifies a “chop chop” sound emanating from the kitchen, more often than not I will be the beneficiary of a delightful apple core, so I drool and wait, sometimes I even cry loudly.  
•  Small people who enter the house ALWAYS drop food so i follow them around mercilessly.  My brother also falls into this category, even though he is quite tall. 
• Occasionally an older couple takes me to their home in the suburbs for a visit, and i take advantage of them - they feed me everything and let me sit on the couch!  They obviously don’t know the wrath of bipolar betty!  They better WATCH OUT!!!