I did it! I had the wildest and most amazing marathon retirement party ever! But first, let me start with this…

I didn’t make my goal time. I aimed for a 4:40 finish. I trained for it, even left some cushioning in my training for a 4:45 minute finish. I ran in temperatures over 100 degrees. I ran in wind. I ran in rain. I trained in the Texas summer heat. I cross trained through Camp Gladiator and followed Coach Sara’s plan each week. I tapered like I was supposed to. I sought chiropractic relief. I altered my hydration and diet, too. In my training, I gained back the confidence to run a 10mm pace for a half marathon. I had the confidence to run a 10:30-11mm pace WITH HILLS. I lost weight and shook off a large chunk of depression.

I didn’t make my goal time. My finish was 5:10:51, a full 11 minutes slower than 7 years ago for my other time of running this.

BUT…

I did it! This race was EVERYTHING I needed from a final race. It was brutal! Why? The conditions were low 40s with 20-30 mph winds. The winds were so high that they didn’t even allow the handcycles to start in Staten Island, cutting off the Verrazano Bridge entirely for them. I opted to walk that bridge, braving the masses, but staying on the side out of harms way, or so I thought. I was pelted with discarded gloves, water bottles, makeshift windbreakers from garbage bags, a race bib (!), a fuel belt, and sweat shirts. I fought against the wind to get this image:

See those white caps. See those clouds? Brrr…(my lungs started wheezing moments after snapping this. Inside I cursed them and said, Not today!)

And we fought through that wind, running against it for about 20 of those miles, and then we were faced with uphill, no sun, tired legs. Before that, though…

I caught those unicorns I’d been chasing for a while!

I sat in that huddle of people to stay warm before the race. Robin Hood, you guys continue to touch my soul!

I stood in my corral waiting for that BOOM of the cannon and Frank Sinatra to belt out “New York, New York” while we ran past.

I nervously chatted with a local gal, a gal from Atlanta, and 3 women from Argyle, Texas! Wow!

I humbly wore the discarded Dunkin Donuts fleece hat that I had to cut a hole out of the top so my hair would fit.

At mile 13 I took a selfie in the sun!

At mile 15.5 I knew I was still plenty strong.

At mile 19.5 I took another selfie in the sun.

My face hurt from smiling so much! I ran strong! I ran my race. I ran with so many strangers cheering me along the way. I ran while my loved ones cheered me on both in person and through social media. I ran for all of them and for myself. The race was what I needed. It was a metaphor, a true test of determination, strength, endurance, and will. I didn’t really hit a wall. My lungs did feel like they wanted to collapse at one point. I lost feeling of my 3rd toe on my left foot around mile 8. At mile 9-10, I ran alongside my Teej! I saw her and nearly knocked her down because I was so happy to see her. I cried and cried, and squeezed so tightly. She ran in the crowd next to me, and when she hit her street, she hollered “Go!” and I went. At mile 11, I saw my Beloved!! He’d landed and made it to me. At mile 13 I messaged my beautiful friend on bedrest, who was cheering me on, texting me messages of support along the way! I hopped on social media at mile 15-16. I saw a few more familiar faces and beautiful souls at mile 17-19! At mile 20, Robin Hood’s block party erupted in cheers when they saw my shirt! I felt like such a celebrity! I had a pinched nerve in my right shoulder starting at mile 21. But I kept right on pushing. I ran to the Asian drummers beat. I high fived one of the rappers who was performing. I high fived as many kids as I could along the way. I held hands with a gal who was running to honor her mother at mile 23---she’d died on October 28th from cancer. I hugged a Swiss guy whose legs were giving out. I was going so fast, I missed My Michael at mile 24, but I saw my Beloved again at mile 24.5.  I put my phone away after that and focused on finishing. I happily ran under the foliage of My park, Central Park. We emerged out of park a bit after 25 and I saw the GM building…Maverick! I’ve walked MANY times to Columbus Circle, time to pick up the pace! (Screw you, lungs, stop sucking air, we have a race to finish!) I spotted people to try to reach and pass and I did. When I hit mile 26, I shouted BRING IT! and took off at an accelerated pace for that last quarter mile. I passed so many people and felt so light. When I crossed, I didn’t cry in my photos. I just beamed with the biggest smile. That was it.

I did it! 5 hours, 10 minutes, and 51 seconds of happy…happy that isn’t artificial, genuine happiness from achievement and support from more than 200 people! All 200+ of you that know me directly who reached out….

THANK YOU, MERCI, GRACIAS, DOMO ARI GATO, DANKE, GAMSAHBNIDA, GRAZIE!!!

The lady who handed me my medal, she was an older woman, and I just stared at her, and asked her for a hug. And she hugged me tightly like my abuela, and told me that she was so proud of me! Thank you strange lady! Thank you for being proud of me and giving me such a hug! And then I sobbed. Big, fat, joyful tears of happiness and sense of accomplishment.

The trek to my room was a journey all by itself. But I got to see my Beloved again before he headed out to the airport. I was able to laugh and recover with My Michael and Gen at a tea place. I was able to talk about the journey with my running friends and hosts after they returned themselves. The next day, I was tight, but I walked around my park for a while capturing engagement photos (yes, I had an engagement photo shoot and it was amazing!!). I had some amazing food, I had a blowout, and then I came home.

I’m tight, but not overly sore. Only my toe is really hurting, but I feel fine. It was a great retirement and the perfect way to say goodbye to my final endurance run. And now, I pass on the torch to everyone else who is able to do so! I will cheer them on!

Coach Sara…you helped me earn every single bit of this race! THANK YOU! Coach Mark, our time so far has been brief, but you helped me, too! Running friends, thank you for pushing me, even when you didn’t know you were. Mom, thank you for throwing me in the deep end and telling me to swim. Daddy, thank you for never slowing down when we raced! Thank you NYC for showing up, like you always do. I know I can make it anywhere!

Healthy body, Healthy Mind...30 Days Challenge to Get Back to Basics

 

I've long wanted to affect positive changes in life. if you know me personally, I would hope you already know this. I give optimism, lend a listening ear, and encourage when I feel someone may need encouragement. By doing this,  I hoped that I could positively impact others to be the very best version of themselves—per their own definitions of what that mean.

When I started the Bianca Birthday 5K last year, I was overwhelmed by the response and even further humbled by the participation this year. It's only been a few short months since that time, but why wait a year for another push? I don’t know about you, but September is always hectic! Between the start of school, tailgate parties, and cooler Autumn weather, it is easy to become complacent with an exercise routine. Yes, I said routine. Some of you have specific routines at your Crossfit boxes, others hit the pavement with a running plan, and others may do heavy lifting every day, sculpting their muscles perfectly to expose the strong sinew under the skin. You know what else is a routine? Coming home from a long day, sitting on the couch and zoning out, while munching away on food that you picked up in the drive-thru line. This also may mean getting up late, missing your alarm, and the inevitable irritable rush to ready the day, desperately counting the moments to your coffee drink to do it all over again. I know, this well. This is easy to get into and SO, SO, SO tough to break!

Change begins when you are willing to break your routine. Here's some truth: Recently, I talked with my doctor about a prescription weight loss pill* recently I was obsessed with not losing weight in spite of marathon training. Upon telling her this, and hearing myself say it, I stopped speaking, internally acknowledged my fear, and changed course. I needed something to help me breathe easier so I could train harder. I needed something to combat my low energy levels. Blood work and an x-ray gave clues to what I needed. I now take Vitamin D pill for my energy and focus on eating dark leafy vegetables to increase my iron levels. I also take Symbicort and Albuterol for my lungs. Instead of tempting boredom with only running, I opted for a bonafide cross-training option. Camp Gladiator had a $6 unlimited boot camps special for September. Add that to my marathon training plan, and I have a built-in workout schedule for the next month. At least 1 hour a day is focused dedication for my body. (Endorphins will make the brain happy.)  I am determined to get back to basics, commit to 30 days of healthy living (clean eating and exercise) to get me back on track with my goals. Yes, MY goals to be the best version of myself as defined by me. Yours will be different and that's ok, wonderful and all together necessary for YOUR success!

But here's where I need your help. Join the Facebook Group I’ve created for September. You can opt in to pay the $25 to be sure you are committed. if you pay, you will receive an Exercise Shirt after the end of the month and your name will be entered to win the grand prize. What is the grand prize? If you win, you get to take the remainder of the money after the t-shirts to donate to YOUR favorite charity! If you aren’t financially able to participate, that’s ok, I still want you to join! Join the group, participate in the check-ins, be publicly accountable, and work hard to reach your goals!

Set realistic goals. If you can't even run for two minutes, I don't expect you to set your goal to run a half marathon in a month. But you WILL be able to at least walk one a year later, but that starts today. if you are able to do 200 pushups and crank out 6+ miles, then reach higher. Maybe aim for a faster 10K or do more than what your comfort level is. We all have goals and I want to cheer you on. I want you to cheer me on. Let’s do it together so we can train for life! #tfl

You have two days until we start. Think about your goals, and come join us!

 

__________________

*It should be noted that I’m not hating on anyone who uses diet pills. I haven’t exhausted every option before going down that path, meaning, I don’t feel like I gave a solid strength and conditioning plan, nor did I exercise portion control or counted calories. Prescription medication can be quite effective, especially when closely monitored by a doctor. Do whatever you have to do, but know that there is no magic pill that replaces a good diet and proper exercise.

Fitness Buddy: 5 Keys to Helping Your Partner Train for the NYC Triathlon

If you are like me, you may possibly yo-yo between fitness routines. Usually, when I have a scheduled race with an actual goal in mind, I commit to the race, then the training tapers off and I get back to being a lug until a few months pass by, my pansa gets a bit large, my clothes get a bit tight, and I rush off to find another race. Vicious cycle.
But I am quite competitive, especially against myself. I also like having support and someone who will cheer for me. It’s fun to feel strong, look your best, and you can’t beat those endorphins!
Early last month, my Beloved came to me and told me what he wanted for his 40th birthday. You can imagine my surprise, because he NEVER asks for anything, let alone that far in advance of his birthday (it is in May). He told me he wanted to do the NYC Triathlon. Not only that, but he wanted to commit to raise $3000 for the Semper Fi Fund.
wow.
So, in that moment, I beamed with pride and dedicated myself to help him train for the race. Here’s the breakdown:

1500m swim – .93 mile open water swim in the Hudson River
40k bike – 24.85 miles along Manhattan’s West Side highway
10k run – 6.2 miles of running through Central Park

With that in mind, here are 5 keys to help your partner train for any event, but in my case, the NYC Triathlon.

1. Meal Planning
2. Train with Your Partner
3. Keep them accountable
4. Encourage your partner
5. Education

1. Meal Planning…DIET, DIET, DIET
No hormones, no additives, no preservatives, organic (as much as possible), natural…to you, it may sound like EXPENSIVE, but to me, you can’t put a price on your health.
You may have heard that phrase that abs are made in the kitchen. It’s true. Diet contributes 100% to your fitness. Put crap into your body, and you will see the results. I did the vegetarian diet before with great success. However, I have since altered my stance and have become a flexitarian. Freshly caught wild fish (not farm raised), grass fed beef, free range/vegetarian fed poultry, and other local sources are what I aim for. Pay now for better food or pay later for your health-related costs. Plus, not everything HAS to be overpriced! Ethnic foods are more than affordable and quite flavorful!

The Method: Each week on Saturday, I spend about half an hour meal planning. I jot down each day’s meals on our weekly meal plan page. Alongside it is my grocery list, where I check off or list what we will need for each meal.  On Sundays, we go grocery shopping for the week. The weekly meal plan, then lives on the front of the fridge. Sunday nights, we may do some meal prep.
Getting the Goods: We shop at Market Street, Trader Joe’s, and HMart. Market Street for veggies, fish, beef, cheeses, and dried goods. Trader Joes’s for eggs, more veggies, almond/soy milk (Both of our daughters have an allergy to milk--yes, even hormone-free milk--, so we have gone to more soy and almond milk. The evidence of the dairy issue presents itself with certain cheeses, but not Greek yogurt.), gluten-free flour,  canned San Marzano tomatoes, and on occasion flowers (yes, just checking to see if you were still paying attention!)

In the late evenings when I want a snack (especially after a workout), we will make ourselves a juice. This is so much better than nachos, cereal, or even a Twinkie (yes, I’m giving you a side-eye Tracy Anderson because not only do I think the juice has some nutritional value, you have me wanting a Twinkie in the worst way). Also, you still have to be sure you get your fiber!

Daily Routine: Breakfast, morning snack, lunch, afternoon snack, dinner, juice

2. Train with Your Partner
Creativity lends itself better with twos, and I believe the same could be said when training. Otherwise, why else would all of the group fitness options be made available if people didn’t enjoy the camaraderie. But this isn’t just exercise, it is actual training. Every single day we grind. Every workout is thought out with the idea that we will be better than what we were yesterday and we will keep pushing forward to reach the goals.

“Different physical tasks require different physical adaptations; running 26.2 miles is obviously a different task than squatting 700 pounds, and the two efforts require completely different physical adaptations. If a program of physical activity is not designed to get you stronger or faster or better conditioned by producing a specific stress to which a specific desirable adaptation can occur, you don't get to call it training. It is just exercise.”—Mark Rippetoe

Daily Routine:  This requires that we run together, we lift weights together, we stretch/yoga/meditate together, we cycle together, and we swim together. We also recover together.

3. Keep Them Accountable
Two facts: I am not a great swimmer. I am an even worse cyclist.  When he has to bike or swim, that’s when I mostly focus on myself for things that will not cause bodily harm to me. When he is biking, I am out running. When he is swimming, I’m doing plyometrics or a cardio activity. In both instances, I’m doing something during the time he is doing something. The buddy is putting in the time, so must you! On those days where neither of us feels like doing anything, it is up to me to remind him why he started this journey. If I’m ever in doubt of myself, I just need to lean to my online friends and they do a great job of motivating me and keeping me accountable. I can’t escape it, thus he can’t escape it. It’s a good problem to have. Also, when in doubt, revisit this video:

4. Encourage Your Partner
Be a cheerleader. Cheer yourself for sticking by their side, but also scream your lungs out when you can. Be there for the slumps. Be there for the gains. Either way, give encouragement. If you can be there on race day, make signs, wear the cheesy shirt, and get others to yell with you.


5. Education
Research training plans. Establish a baseline, then grow from there. Learn all you can about preventing injury, things to prepare for the event, and training in conditions that will be present on race day. Also, learn the route. If you are going to be on location to cheer them on, come up with points along the way and communicate those places with your partner. It is so much easier for them to spot you, than it is for you to spot them!

The Genesis of the Birthday Month & an Apology

“The TRUTH is that the higher you rise in status & popularity, the more you are called to SERVE others (not the other way around).”—Robyn Bomar of The Birthday Project

I wouldn’t call myself one of the cool or popular kids, when I was growing up. I was different. I was imaginative, creative, introverted, and had a very unique sense of style. Betsey Johnson’s clothing personified all that was similar to my childhood. As a teen, Helena Bonham Carter’s style was more of what I would have wanted to wear. But as we grow, we literally try on different clothes to showcase who we are. I am very blessed to be many things. I’m an athlete. I’m a thespian. I’m a writer. I’m a dreamer. I’m a music lover. I’m a photographer. I’m a seamstress. I’m a coach. I’m a counselor. I’m a corporate worker. I’m a hippie on the weekends. I’m a cheerleader. I’m a listener. I’m a healer. I’m a mother. I’m a wife. I’m a sister. I’m a daughter. I’m a friend. I've had several people ask me about the birthday month. This question asked might have been in jest from some, others were curious, some were thrilled, and another found it quite indulgent and selfish. I felt the need to clarify what it means to me, this month-long celebration.

There were many, many times I was horribly lonely and sad. Emotional scars from my childhood really manifest themselves during these moments and cast a shadow of doubt and worthiness as a person. I just wanted a friend nearby. On my 24th birthday, that was my wish, for a friend nearby to do things with (my two best and closest friends were hours away, still in school). Wish granted. Over the course of the next several years, she and I had a great many adventures, making new friends along the way, building our own colorful urban family. This isn’t to say that I lost sight of my old friends. No, not hardly! It is always magic when each of those worlds collides, friends from the past, from the present, and new friends from our futures are brought together in those rare moments. I like to flit about like a butterfly, socializing with each of them, often excusing myself to seemingly go to the bathroom, when in reality, I’m stepping back, looking at everyone smiling, taking it all in, and giving thanks for being so blessed with loved ones. Being afforded friendship, true friendship, and love.

With the advent of social media, I made virtual friends, many of whom I have met in real life, many of them mothers themselves, who relate to the everyday life of what it means to be all of the aforementioned labels and more…more like, health/body related issues like laughing so hard you pee, and extra skin, and lack of privacy, and the other hilarious details that make you appreciate your own mother. So you can see that I have joined and am a part of all of these tiny tribes all over the place.

A couple of years ago, I came across Robyn Bomar’s The Birthday Project. How beautiful, how wonderful of an idea and concept! At the same time, one of my virtual mom friends posted about celebrating her birthday month. During that time I would celebrate the week of, trying to squeeze in lunch/dinner/coffee dates with friends to celebrate myself. The idea of the celebration had escaped me. I was too stressed about the activities surrounding the very reason and joy I wanted to celebrate…being alive! I got to thinking and decided that I too, would be celebrating for a month. And for that entire month, for each item I gifted myself or was gifted, I needed to give that much back to the world. I like opening gifts! I like receiving gifts. Receiving a gift can be difficult. I mean, I am not that gracious at receiving a compliment and when you give me a physical gift, I get a bit overwhelmed. I wasn’t always that way. Some where along the way, though, I had changed. I’ve since gotten better at it. I smile and accept it. My heart races at the surprise inside! I’m thrilled at the thought that someone had gone out of their way to consider ME and they were giving me a special token.

I’ve never stated before about giving out to the world during this month, nor have I ever mentioned my gift receiving anxiety. I don’t feel the need to brag about being a decent human. It’s like that commercial where one simple act can have a ripple effect into the world. Sure, I’ll buy a coffee for a stranger. But more than that, I like to hide dollars at the Dollar store, leave a $5 in the toy section at Wal-mart, give food to someone hungry, deliver a flower to a neighbor, or just give a good, long, exaggerated hug to someone in need. It is in the act of giving that I receive so very much. Gift receiving: I had such anxiety about giving gifts to friends. Would it fit? Would they like it? Did I spend too much? Did I not spend enough? That it got to where it wasn’t about the person, but the item. And then the gifts I did receive, I didn’t know what to do with them. Literally, when I’m given scented soap or lotions, I don’t know what to do because I’m incredibly allergic to those things. I don’t feel like I can regift something like that because, after all, it was a gift to me. I can’t throw it away because, again, it was a gift. See, how I overcomplicated things? Instead, I allowed myself to spend money for me and give myself gifts. Some would say, “Hello Bianca, that’s kinda selfish!” Let me explain: I would buy myself a cup of coffee. Celebrate the coffee. Appreciate the coffee. Not take for granted that there was always coffee available to me, but rather shift my perspective for the ability to buy myself the coffee and freely enjoy the simple pleasure it brings. I buy myself a cupcake. I eat the cupcake without guilt of empty calories. I try to not think about how much I’ll have to run for that cupcake. Getting in the habit of accepting the gifts I give to myself, I can accept the gifts I receive from others.  Which I am then afforded the pleasure of paying it forward…

Last year’s birthday month involved more introspection and focus on my relationship with self and my husband. Accepting who I was, appreciating who I was, and also, fully appreciating my husband and enjoying our marriage. He, Captain America, being one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received! It was also for making magic. NYC (Tiffany, Yankees, Central Park, Serendipity), Costa Rica (surfing, poi, thunderstorms, jungle, spa), Los Angeles/Anaheim (family, Disney), San Diego (Coronado beach, San Diego zoo, family dinners, private concert), Paso Robles (wine and dinner), San Francisco (dinner with friends, machine museum, SF Bridge), Napa Valley (wine tasting, chocolate bacon, and so much laughter), and Tennessee (beautiful sunrises, lots of sneezing, and driving through Amish country)…what an adventure! I had a month long sabbatical from my job and thanks to our family members and friends, we were afforded that much needed time he and I desperately needed. Thanks to family who understood what we were trying to accomplish and stepped up to help us with our girls. Thanks to friends and family for opening up their homes to us (even when they weren’t there!!) and for all of the rides. Thanks to friends who scheduled with us well in advance of our departures so those (literal hours) in between jumps to the different locations, we got together for dinner, for breakfast, for lunch…all of which was coordinated in advance. My feelings weren’t hurt by people who didn’t reach out to schedule. We all have busy lives. Unfortunately, it didn’t occur to me that by not reaching out to others, I may have inadvertently hurt their feelings.

Here is a very, very public apology to my sister: I’m sorry, Samantha. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings and didn’t consider you more than I should have. I misinterpreted and accepted when I should have followed through and double-checked. I’m sorry that this apology never fully embraced you (in my seemingly apathetic attempts to you up to this point) in the way that I meant for it to. We can’t have a do-over. I regret that I missed that shared time. I regret that I hurt you. I can only say I’m sorry and I will do better.

whoo…(wipes tears)…that was heavy…looks around, oh right.

This year, I took on a greater undertaking. The thought came to me a couple of weeks prior to my birthday. I had to courage to embrace my health diagnosis and not allow it to define my life. I wanted to live by example and invite others to join in my quest for a healthy lifestyle. I invited friends and family to participate in a fun and casual 5K. They would walk, run, bike, crawl…whatever they wanted to do, but they had to commit to get moving on that day. I hoped for 20, I expected 10, I was blown away when I ordered 40 medals! F.O.R.T.Y. Forty medals to be given to participants who let me know they were going to participate. There were still others, strangers even, who participated because they were inspired. I was and am humbled. Someone applauded me by saying that I was being the change I wanted to see in the world. That compliment totally leveled me. It was that type of good that I have always wanted to inspire in people. In middle school, we were asked to write down our goals. I didn’t think immediate goals, per se, like my peers did. They talked about graduating from universities and their career goals. I wrote down that I wanted to make a difference in someone’s life for the better. When I wake each morning, I feel my heart beating, and I’m excited at the very thought that I’m given the chance to do just that. Ever since fully embracing my gift for listening to people’s life story, I have discovered that through that listening, and giving a hug, providing affirmation and validity to the individual, I AM making a difference. And this little 5K…I made a big difference in people’s lives for better health! My tiny pebble thrown into the large pond has created some incredible ripples in the world. Thank you. Each one of you, THANK YOU!



The rest of my birthday weekend had celebrations with friends, some of whom I expected to see and others I hadn’t seen in a long while. And my birthday proper…it was spent exactly as I wanted to, almost. I wanted to spend it with family alongside my father. In my open invitation to friends (yes, I send out an itinerary with scheduled activities, don’t you? If you know me, this isn’t a surprise.), I had mentioned the game. I was very excited that no one responded about going and it would only be family. This year my birthday fell on Father’s day. We planned to go to the Ballpark in Arlington, where we’ve spent the past 19 summers, cheering on our Texas Rangers. We sat in the heat, in the full sun, cheering, heckling, wearing the freebie hats (which were quite awesome), giggling when I saw my name on the scoreboard.


So now you know. If you are reading this, thank you! And I ask that you do one small act of kindness to put that goodness into the world. Could you do that for me? Pretty please? Thanks! High five!

Photo Recap of The Margarita Ball

 

Review: Rent the Runway & Dallas Margarita Society

Hello friends!
I hope all is well out in the virtual world. As for me, I’ve been battling some kind of wacky sickness all week. I get fever, feels like I’m swallowing broken glass, hacking, but the side effects are that I’m incredibly happy and overjoyed. Honestly, I think I did myself a solid by “hiding” folks on Social Media back in July. This has helped to improve my mood and mostly kept me out of the loop during this election. For the rest of you, thank you for your honesty, tenderness, wit, joy, and humor during that time.

Back to the topic at hand…Rent the Runway & The Dallas Margarita Society

I am really big into philanthropy. If you know me, you know this. I also like when players in the philanthropic world unite socially. One of the biggest charitable events of the year here in Dallas is the black-tie, by-invitation-only, Dallas Margarita Ball* put on by The Dallas Margarita Society. I work and am friends with a member of DMS, so I was invited. Naturally, after securing a sitter for our girls, I fretted quite a bit last year over what to wear and after being there, I had more perspective. Granted, wearing an old bridesmaid dress would have sufficed, actually. Nothing is too opulent or over the top. So, what did I wear? I wore a long black gown from White House Black Market and Don wore a black suit. This is what we looked like:


There were so many gorgeous frocks and gowns. I was more impressed with everyone’s creativity. Dallas really does know how to step it up and step out! As a result, this year, I wanted to try to stay away from black and go with some real color. Well, I didn’t want to commit to a color for long term. I’ve bought plenty of bridesmaid dresses, a few of which I only wore on the wedding day. As a last resort for this year, I was going to pull one of those out and make it work, until I found Rent the Runway. I signed up, logged in, was welcomed with a coupon code, and after browsing their site and marking several items as favorites, I had a stronger idea of what I was going to wear. The next week, I culled it down to a handful of gowns and shared my choices with friends. They each gave me their feedback and I chose a vibrantly colored number. I was unsure if the length would suffice my height, but the best part about RTR is that they allow you a 2nd gown of the same style but a different size. I knew I was keeping my size, but instead, I chose the longer version. Speaking of size, I tend to waver on size and I was scared to death that the gown would not fit!!

I had to wait for a month before the event. During that time, I made sure to exercise and eat right so that I could maintain some semblance of the figure I would need to wear the gown. The day came for delivery. The night before, I had fever and chills and woke up with a ridiculous sore throat. (like I mentioned before) But then I remembered it was delivery day and the giant pile of work I had waiting for me, so I sucked it up and went in to the office. That afternoon, I was welcomed with this delivery!!

Inside were the two gowns on a hanger, each with their own plastic wrap similar to clothes returned from the dry cleaner. Additionally, they were wrapped in a long, vinyl travel bag. Hanging on one of the gowns were instructions for returning my items. Items, because I also rented the bracelet. It was a surprise, because I had the option to add on an accessory for a lower price. Finally, there was a large UPS pre-paid bubble wrapped envelope for me to use to return my rentals. They only requested that each item be placed inside of their plastic wrapping which had the barcoded label.

I tried on the gown and initially, it wouldn't zip up!!!! Plus, I was grateful for the longer choice because the shorter one would have been much too short. When I got home, I told Don of my issue to zip up. This time, I took off my bra (you really can't wear one with this dress) and it zipped right up. I was still able to move and dance with ease, so this was EXCITING!!

Tomorrow night, I will wear a $1500 Carlos Miele “Cerulean Duchess” gown, paired with a $210 Lee Angel “Wrapped in Elegance” bracelet, for way less than 10% of the cost of the gown. I’m not going to have to worry about cleaning the gown, what to wear---fretting about the day before or the day of, and I won’t have another special event frock taking up space in my already limited closet space. I am INCREDIBLY excited!

As for my Beloved…he is stepping it up a notch and we purchased a Calvin Klein tux, with accessories and shoes for 50% off total price (thank you Men's Wearhouse!). Now that I know about RTR, I’m looking for any excuse to rent a nice frock. I already have a couple in mind for upcoming holiday events! Check them out!

*The Dallas Margarita Society, Inc., (d.b.a. Dallas Children’s Charities) was formed in 1977 when a small group of business acquaintances decided to host a holiday party for associates and friends.
The Society is a 501(c)(3) non-profit charitable organization whose goals are twofold.  The first is to provide at-risk Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex children with gifts at Christmas time and the second is to help those community organizations that work with at-risk children throughout the year.
The Dallas Margarita Ball has grown over the years and is now believed to be the largest annual invitation only charity black tie gala in the world, providing gifts for more than 6,800 at-risk children each year.
 

I was not compensated to write this post. I just wanted to share a good idea with all of you. If you click my referral link, you will receive $20 off a $100 rental!

Longfellow, Scalzi, and Making a Difference

Little known fact about me, I’m a huge advocate for philanthropy. I like giving as much money as I can to worthy organizations. I enjoy volunteering my time and giving it as a gift. For nearly three years, I’ve been the Chair of a decently sized charitable foundation. It sounds fancy, and it might be a bit high-brow, but that’s not why I tossed my name in the hat when the opportunity presented itself. I hungrily applied for the position because I wanted to be as connected to many charitable organizations as I possibly could. I wanted a front row seat to the change-makers, no, I wanted to run alongside them on that inside track and effect so much change that I could not only feel, but see that needle shifting.

And changes were happening! They ARE happening. While standardized test scores are falling, in other places, they are rising---where they shouldn’t be. Against all odds…against socioeconomic impact, against menacing demographics, against those that told them they couldn’t people are rising to the challenge and proving that they can. Amazing!

Last week, my beloved and I attended an event as a representative of said foundation. The location was in the gorgeous home of the board member of another organization. The place was really, really, really nice. (understatement of the year) I’ve been to several of these events and to this day, I’m still blown away by luxury and I hope that feeling never disappears. Despite what I’ve seen or done or what I will see or do, I hope that fanciness in my face will continue to wow me. Why? Not because of the wealth, but because of how each piece put together in these rooms was hand selected and hand placed by someone to make a statement reflecting its owner. It’s art and beauty. It’s like a mini museum visit. Anyway, here we are out on their terrace.

Behind us, you can see children gathering. They are 4th grade students from a local private school. They were setting up for their performance. They recited, with gusto, Henry Wadsworth Longellow’s “The Village Blacksmith” in its entirety and perfectly. Nine and ten year olds, in perfect rows, in perfect unison, reciting the poem as if someone were performing it. They captivated me. I’d first read this poem in high school and revisited it again in college. I liked it then, but now that I’m a parent, I relate to it so much more. I found myself filled with impossibly hopeful tears for these children. Why? Because they live in a zip code that has the worst high school in the state (and one of the worst in the nation). 3 out of 4 children that matriculate from this school go on to graduate high school, more often than not, from a preparatory or private high school in the area on scholarship. That other 1 will probably have gone on to the local high school, will not graduate. and more than likely end up in jail or living in poverty.

Break the cycle.

I’ve spoken of my mother instilling philanthropy in my heart at an early age. Likewise, I believe it is necessary for me to lay a giving foundation for my own daughter’s hearts. The other day, I heard a story of a running coach who inspired and trained homeless women to run a 5K. She took it a step further and had these homeless women raise money for children in Africa. Homeless. Women. Raising. Money. Marinate on that for a second, now ask yourself, “What else can I do to make a difference?”

Which brings me to my next point about being poor. I’ve thought about how growing up in poverty shaped my mother. How that in turn shaped me. I reflected on how she tends to hoard things, random things like pens, and how she holds on to so many trivial things for sentimental reasons. My siblings and I joke about it, despite how all of the extra stuff makes us uncomfortable. But all of that stuff is my mother and I love her for it. I still giggle at her comment to me, “Mija, when I pass on, you better not just throw stuff out without looking through it. I’ve hidden money here and there and you will never know when you will find it.” She’s right. Upon one of our cleaning crusades, we emptied out 6 boxes of items and collected just under $200 in bills and coins.

I look around my own house and see how my husband and I have inherited our mother’s hoarding habits and we feel suffocated by our things. About a month ago, my cousin house sat for us and during that time she gave me one of the greatest gifts. She organized and cleaned while we were away. More importantly, she organized and cleaned our master bedroom. I cried. Most of you reading this are probably horrified by the thought. I’m not. I prayed for a miracle. I’d even had a conversation with my best friend about it, on how she and I would keep one another accountable and try to empty 1 box of stuff from our house each week or concentrate on one tiny wall in one room of the house each week. My cousin bought me time and her efforts (over the course of those 5 days) brought me freedom. I could breathe again in my room. I had been embarrassed by our bedroom. What she did was no small feat. She started something BIG and each week, I do my best to maintain what she has done and take it another step in that proper direction. Again, imprints from generations long past, still ever-present in my life today.

I thought about how my mother’s and my father’s education and pursuit for a better life shaped mine. How it was never a question of if I was going to attend university, but which one. Of course, there were restrictions there, too. I dared not consider the Ivy League recruiting letters, nor any of the private schools letters of interest. We wouldn’t have been able to afford it and I knew that. I remember the look of worry on my father’s face when I told him I declared English as my major. He was an Engineer and the moment he stepped foot into the Corporate World, he groomed me for that environment. With my emphasis in Technical Communication, I found a niche that opened those doors of opportunity. For as long as I can remember, every single voice of any significance in my life told me I could be whomever I chose, do whatever I wanted, and I didn’t have to rely on anyone but myself. I am lucky and blessed. I was also adamantly told to give back. What I was given should be returned, including my gifts of time and talent. Wasting either would be a tragedy of epic proportions and completely disrespectful to all those who had gone before me.

So when John Scalzi’s write-up of “Being Poor” (also shown at the end of this post) hit my inbox, I found myself nodding and sobbing. I found myself understanding and wondering. This weighed heavily on my heart (and a tiny source of some of the melancholy I’d been feeling recently, my over-the-top ridiculous pity party for absolutely no reason whatsoever). If people only knew how much happiness they received in giving, I think the world would be much like appears in my eyes, well 96% of the time. We can make a difference! In our own child’s eyes, and in other’s eyes. I’m happily married to an educator who, yes, has a part-time job. Occasionally, we work as photographers to raise a tiny bit of extra money to support a craft we love…or pay for ballet lessons. We make ends meet the best we know how and the bits that we have leftover by the way of money, we do our best to give to others. And if I don’t have any treasure to give, I certainly have talent and time tucked away somewhere and endeavor to instill that same value in the hearts of my girls. We are trying to embrace the whole, spending less money on things and investing more in the experiences.

Next time you find yourself feeling low, it’s ok to embrace the muck happening in your life. And it is ok that you are feeling those things. But I do challenge you to take some time out of your imperfect day and perform a random act of kindness for a stranger in need. You’ll be hard-pressed to not feel your internal needle shifting ever so slightly. You might have even shifted that stranger’s needle a bit too.

________________

Being Poor

September 3, 2005 By John Scalzi

Being poor is knowing exactly how much everything costs.

Being poor is getting angry at your kids for asking for all the crap they see on TV.

Being poor is having to keep buying $800 cars because they’re what you can afford, and then having the cars break down on you, because there’s not an $800 car in America that’s worth a damn.

Being poor is hoping the toothache goes away.

Being poor is knowing your kid goes to friends’ houses but never has friends over to yours.

Being poor is going to the restroom before you get in the school lunch line so your friends will be ahead of you and won’t hear you say “I get free lunch” when you get to the cashier.

Being poor is living next to the freeway.

Being poor is coming back to the car with your children in the back seat, clutching that box of Raisin Bran you just bought and trying to think of a way to make the kids understand that the box has to last.

Being poor is wondering if your well-off sibling is lying when he says he doesn’t mind when you ask for help.

Being poor is off-brand toys.

Being poor is a heater in only one room of the house.

Being poor is knowing you can’t leave $5 on the coffee table when your friends are around.

Being poor is hoping your kids don’t have a growth spurt.

Being poor is stealing meat from the store, frying it up before your mom gets home and then telling her she doesn’t have make dinner tonight because you’re not hungry anyway.

Being poor is Goodwill underwear.

Being poor is not enough space for everyone who lives with you.

Being poor is feeling the glued soles tear off your supermarket shoes when you run around the playground.

Being poor is your kid’s school being the one with the 15-year-old textbooks and no air conditioning.

Being poor is thinking $8 an hour is a really good deal.

Being poor is relying on people who don’t give a damn about you.

Being poor is an overnight shift under florescent lights.

Being poor is finding the letter your mom wrote to your dad, begging him for the child support.

Being poor is a bathtub you have to empty into the toilet.

Being poor is stopping the car to take a lamp from a stranger’s trash.

Being poor is making lunch for your kid when a cockroach skitters over the bread, and you looking over to see if your kid saw.

Being poor is believing a GED actually makes a goddamned difference.

Being poor is people angry at you just for walking around in the mall.

Being poor is not taking the job because you can’t find someone you trust to watch your kids.

Being poor is the police busting into the apartment right next to yours.

Being poor is not talking to that girl because she’ll probably just laugh at your clothes.

Being poor is hoping you’ll be invited for dinner.

Being poor is a sidewalk with lots of brown glass on it.

Being poor is people thinking they know something about you by the way you talk.

Being poor is needing that 35-cent raise.

Being poor is your kid’s teacher assuming you don’t have any books in your home.

Being poor is six dollars short on the utility bill and no way to close the gap.

Being poor is crying when you drop the mac and cheese on the floor.

Being poor is knowing you work as hard as anyone, anywhere.

Being poor is people surprised to discover you’re not actually stupid.

Being poor is people surprised to discover you’re not actually lazy.

Being poor is a six-hour wait in an emergency room with a sick child asleep on your lap.

Being poor is never buying anything someone else hasn’t bought first.

Being poor is picking the 10 cent ramen instead of the 12 cent ramen because that’s two extra packages for every dollar.

Being poor is having to live with choices you didn’t know you made when you were 14 years old.

Being poor is getting tired of people wanting you to be grateful.

Being poor is knowing you’re being judged.

Being poor is a box of crayons and a $1 coloring book from a community center Santa.

Being poor is checking the coin return slot of every soda machine you go by.

Being poor is deciding that it’s all right to base a relationship on shelter.

Being poor is knowing you really shouldn’t spend that buck on a Lotto ticket.

Being poor is hoping the register lady will spot you the dime.

Being poor is feeling helpless when your child makes the same mistakes you did, and won’t listen to you beg them against doing so.

Being poor is a cough that doesn’t go away.

Being poor is making sure you don’t spill on the couch, just in case you have to give it back before the lease is up.

Being poor is a $200 paycheck advance from a company that takes $250 when the paycheck comes in.

Being poor is four years of night classes for an Associates of Art degree.

Being poor is a lumpy futon bed.

Being poor is knowing where the shelter is.

Being poor is people who have never been poor wondering why you choose to be so.

Being poor is knowing how hard it is to stop being poor.

Being poor is seeing how few options you have.

Being poor is running in place.

Being poor is people wondering why you didn’t leave.

Tesla Museum

If you’ve been a regular reader of mine, by now you should know that I’m a fan of Nikola Tesla. Heck, what started as a nickname for a growing baby turned into her actual name. Recently, The Oatmeal spearheaded a campaign to purchase the land and to hopefully build a Tesla Museum to honor this great man.

Because I dragged my feet too long, I didn’t get to take full advantage of the perks that were initially made available. Life gets in the way and can get easily distracting. meh. Either way, I was able to contribute in our daughter’s honor so she can become a part of history, hopefully. Our little way of honoring her namesake.



They’ve reached their initial goal, but all funds over the goal will be used to actually renovating the site and building a museum! I would love to be able to take her to visit Wardenclyffe someday to see a museum she helped to create. If you have an extra $3, I encourage you to join the effort. Nikola Tesla sure was a fan of the number 3 and so are we. (For one year, my jersey number in college was 3. Our wedding start time was 3:33. Our own little Tesla was born on the 3rd of her month, even!)

the Birthday month 2012

This year, I've been blessed beyond my wildest daydreams. I keep pinching myself wondering when I will wake up because seriously so many outstanding things are coming in to play. I'm not trying to rub any of this in anyone's face. It's also been a helluva year, too. Extreme highs and lows, that's for sure.

Anyway, I sat down to compile my list of birthday wishes, when I determined that there wasn't a long list of things that I really wanted. Truthfully, I want experiences with friends. Real and fresh experiences. Dinners out, roller skating (yes, I'm being serious), dance lessons, concerts, road trips, camping adventures, all of those things and more. You know, real hearty memory-making adventures! We aren't guaranteed our time, so I want to spend it making memories with the ones I love. Also, it would be really amazing if you were feeling charitable in your heart and wanted to donate to Breast Cancer Research, Homeless Teens, or Early Childhood Development that would be pretty awesome!!

If I were to have a tangible list of material items, what would they be? Well, here's a list of things I have had my eye on for the past month:

1. Jack Spade travel duffle - I don't need yet another bag, but it's purple and functional and totally me!! Jack Spade Medium Eaton Duffle on sale for $269 at jackspade.com
2. Canon 85mm 1.2 lens this bad boy is a beast and I love it. I wouldn't use it as often as other lenses, but when I would use it, I would make pretty, pretty, pretty portraits!
3. Spotify Premium membership. $9.99 a month for kickass tunes no matter where I am.
4. DSW gift card because a girl can never have too many shoes, right?
5. Beach Cruiser - it doesn't have to be this one. I do like the idea of a fun color with a basket, of course! I would totally ride around my town in this thing wearing my pleated skirts and tanks. ($150-$300)
6. Sky Trails Maxi Dress from Anthropologie $168
7. Samsung Galaxy Tab 16gb - I've been debating on a tablet, no tablet for sometime and have come to the conclusion that I would actually use it more often than not. For that reason, it has made the list. $399 

As soon as I hit publish on this thing, I know I will inadvertently remember something and be like, dangit, why didn't I put that on there. Yeah, thank goodness for Pinterest. :) 

Cheers to the birthday month!!

GiveBack - It's Your Foundation

GiveBack.org is a new web-based philanthropic arm that is founded by Stephen Paletta, the winner of Oprah's Big Give. Basically, it is a one stop shop for you to be able to donate your money, follow charities, and at the end of the year you get one statement for tax purposes. Any charity registered with the IRS is listed to the site. 100% of all donations will go towards the charities.

I opened an account with GiveBack and I was given $5 to start. I still had two charities to give to this year, so I took the opportunity to use GiveBack to donate. There are 3 ways to add funds. You can add money directly. You can shop for your foundation, while visiting sponsors they have partnered with and a percentage of your purchase goes towards your foundation. Finally, you can be gifted funds through their sponsors who are interested in helping to give back. I added funds to the account and gave the full amount in my foundation, including the $5 that I was given to start. It was so fast, so easy, and so very simple.

When I decided to participate in this campaign, I was initially perplexed to have to sign up for another thing. But, if you have a Facebook account, then you can use those credentials to login. The site seems a bit slow when searching for a charity, but I think it that may have had more to do with the type of browser I was using.

In any case, here's my final thoughts. GiveBack is a great idea and a one stop spot to donate money. My biggest issues with it are the speed of the site and also, the limits on the detail of the foundation. You give the money to the organization, but let's say you have a specific program reference, well, there is no place to put that information. This is limiting for those charitable 5Ks, marathons, and 3-Days that I support. So there you go. If you donate money frequently to multiple charities that don't have a specific program reference, then this is for you! Especially if you frequently do online shopping not affiliated with Amazon. It is like having your very own philanthropic foundation.

Click here to learn more about GiveBack.org.

**I participated in the GiveBack blog posting through the One2OneNetwork. For completing this post, I am eligible to receive full registration for the BlissDom '11 conference plus 3 nights at Opryland Hotel and $500 towards travel costs or a $350 Visa Gift Card. The opinions of this post are my own and the opportunity to win a prize did not influence me in any way.**

2010 Komen Race for the Cure

Just as we have done in the past 3 years, we have pulled ourselves out of bed on an early Saturday morning to run and walk for a purpose. This year, I took the reigns of Team Captain for our company team and I happily welcomed some new faces. One of whom had never run a 5K before, so this was very exciting indeed. This is our team, minus one face who was ill that morning, so she had to bow out. Nevertheless, her husband rocked it out and could have run it twice before I finished. ha ha, but this year was just about finishing and honoring our loved ones.

 

All of us were inspired to run for someone, and the Friday before the race, I sent a note reaching out to my fellow co-workers to see if they wanted us to include a special name to the list. Here is the list that we all wore on the day. Survivors give me hope. People battling cancer right now could use a card like this one. I know I totally would have sent one to Margie!

Anyhow, here's a gratuitous picture of my sugarbean. Isn't she a doll? All cozy in the jogger with her juice, her iTouch (ready to watch The Princess & the Frog & Alice)

And the race? It was a resounding success, all-in-all. I say all-in-all because as always, the start is a hot mess. I pay extra to be timed, who knows why? Maybe just to see how I improve from year to year, not sure. And every year, I fail to get to the front to avoid the giant collision at the start. This year, maneuverability became even more taxing because Mari weighs more, I had more in the buggy, and I'm nearly 4 months pregnant. Not excuses, just obstacles I had to overcome. Which, when you throw in all of the aggressive people, amateur runners who aren't aware on the course, and people who just don't care, you are bound to almost run into a really cute elderly lady who was probably cussing you in her head. That image of fright and anger still lingers with me. Even though the near collision wasn't my fault because a guy had rammed his shoulder into mine as he and his wife/running partner whizzed by me, I still felt guilty. I questioned my sanity as to why I was even in the race to begin with. I just kept telling myself, make it to that first mile. Get to the mile and you'll be ok. Everything will be ok.

I turned the corner, and saw the first mile marker and I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Here is where my ego took a slight hit because the time said 14 minutes. Yes, I'm about 15 lbs heavier than normal, I was pushing nearly 40lbs, and I'm growing a human, but the inner athlete in me still wants to be in that sub 9 minute range. Dream big! I rubbed my belly, sent a prayer to our child for good health. Said a prayer for my good health. And prayed for Mari and her amazing energy and health. I'm still setting a good example and the goal is to finish the race healthy and uninjured. Mari pleaded with me to "go faster Mommy." I glanced at my heartrate monitor, and looked ahead. I thought, yeah, I can jog this part. It's all downhill. Not many people, and no harm. We had a nice mile-long jog at about a 10 minute mile pace. She was happy, I was happy. We told many people good job. I talked with a man pushing his 3 year old. He told me he had a 20+ child. I kidded that he had so much fun the first time around that he had to do it all over again. :D He smiled and looked down at his daughter and I could see the pride in his eyes. I knew he was running for her future. I passed a crafty 60+ woman who had fashioned a granny bonnet out of the scarves we had received. I passed a couple of survivors, and a couple of survivors passed me.

Then we reached the bottom of the last big hill, I glanced at my monitor and realized that I had to go back to walking. I was having a bit too much fun, apparently, and my heart rate had gotten out of control. I pushed the stroller up to the top and was invigorated by the sun kissing our sweaty bodies. The music grew louder, my legs began to tighten, and inside deep down, my body was aching to run. It took all of my will to keep that desire at bay. Mari continued to cheer on the walkers and runners. I happily cheered too, letting them know they were nearly done. Right before we were to round the last corner, this gal came up next to me and encouraged me to run. She told me that I was her inspiration and that we needed to finish it together. I smiled and let her know I appreciated her sentiments. I promised I would catch up. Just 30 more seconds. I can keep walking for 30 seconds to get the beats down. But my excitement pulsing through my body was not allowing it. I finally gave in and with less than 250 meters remaining, I kicked it in gear. Not quite a full on sprint, but close. And then I saw my beloved. He encouraged me to go faster. I warned him about my heart rate and then looked up. Less than a hundred, I can totally manage. Then a path of people had parted and I kicked in as high of gear as I possibly could. I not only caught up to my friend, but I passed her and I could hear her chuckling. After we crossed the finish line, she gave me a high five.

I then went off in search of a banana, an apple, some yogurt, and definitely some water. I was so grateful that I packed an extra shirt and flip flops to change into because I was done wearing the compression top.It was a great run and I'm so glad I was able to finish, and not just finish, but finish strong. Very, very blessed to have my health to run for a purpose. I'm looking forward to next year!

Philanthropy: Komen 5K

Once again, I'm soliciting monetary donations for my Komen 5K and if you can't make a donation at this time, then I will ask that you send out positive thoughts and prayers on the morning of the race to all those participating. Thanks and here's a little story from last year's race:

2009 Komen

We rounded that final corner and were faced with the mother of all hills. The sunbeams peaked over the top of the horizon, breaking through the crowd of pink and white, like a large stained glass mosaic. In the distance, we could hear the drumming bass-beat. Bellowing boom-boom-boom, encouraging us to press on.

"Hey Pops, you hear that?" I asked my 11 year old nephew. He hadn't slept much the night before and because of a last minute scheduling change with his father, he found himself up at 6:00 preparing to participate in his first 5K as a part of Team Maverick. His tired eyes looked in the direction of the music, slightly squinting while he concentrated on listening while we walked. Then he heard it.

"Yes, ma'am. I hear it."

"Do you know what that is?"

"Um…no, not really. It sounds like music, maybe."

"You're right, it is. It's the music at the finish line. Remember, that big stage from the start of the race, well, there it is and we're almost done. We just need to conquer this hill, round the corner and we're done. Do you think you have enough juice in you to run the rest?"

His eyes widened, his body perked, up and he got that all too familiar look on his face. "You bet I can. Hills are for conquering!" And he took off. I beamed with pride because he echoed my battle cry for each hill we had encountered.

I pushed the stroller chasing him, while my daughter gleefully screamed with delight. "Faster Mommy, faster!" she bellowed. We passed survivors. We passed fathers, husbands, sons, sisters, and daughters who were walking in memory of a lost loved one.

Side-by-side we finished that race, his mother pridefully hugging him as tears went down her face. "Would you like to do it again, Pops?"

"Sure, especially so we can help people find a cure for cancer. Except next time, can we wear a sign on our backs for cousin Margie instead of the one we had on our sleeves? I mean, I know she's still alive, but maybe that will give other people hope."

Choking back tears, I nodded. "Yes, Pops, we certainly will."

HDMR: Angels in America, Planet 51, Titan Review

Today, I'm blogging for Breast Cancer Research. My friend Jackie has challenged herself to raise $5000 this year in the Susan G. Komen 3 Day walk! I think this is a wonderful idea, so today's HDMR is brought to you by the letter "B" for breasts! They are life saving devices, you know! She has asked her blogging friends to donate their post today in honor of her effort and is requesting that each reader go out and donate $10 to the cause. Can you donate $10 to the cause? I know I can. I know I'm going to. Not just to her walk, but all of my friends walks. Whoa...that's gonna be a lot of money going towards the SGK 3Day, but it'll be a great thing! Today, you can be a part of something much greater than yourself, so go on and join in with the others. For fun, today's ratings will be made in bra sizes. P.S. Don't forget to do your monthly self-check!

Angels in America
Al Pacino, Emma Thomson, Meryl Streep, Mary-Louise Parker, Michael Gambon, James Cromwell, and my new favorite, Jeffrey Wright all star in this political epic about the the AIDS crisis in the 80s. (taken from the IMDB page found here.) This is a 6 part television series that is very serious, but doesn't take itself too seriously with the outlandish "visions" and dream sequences. This is very gay, duh. Hello, it's about AIDS in the 80s. It is very, very moving, riveting, captivating and will have you questioning a lot about how you view/judge others in all realms of life. There were parts of it that were very, very difficult to watch. And there were parts of it that I fell completely in love with the characters. I wish I knew the Belize character in real life. He had such a tender way and on a turn could cut you sharp with a mere glance or voice inflection. Seriously, who knew Emma Thomson could do a thick American accent as Nurse Emily. I LOVED this series. I'm adding it to my list of must-haves. Rating: DD Cup...the cup over runneth

Planet 51
We rented this little movie because Mari was so brave at her doctor visit, she deserved a reward. Instead of letting her watch one of her other movies for the bazillionth time, we opted to rent Planet 51. There were parts of the movie that were fun. I really enjoyed how the aliens were in a '50s era. They dressed that way, their transportation was familiar, and even the drive-in's were popular, along with the kitschy horror films of the day. The robot dog was endearing, as was the dog. Overall, this movie was ok. It didn't captivate Don or myself, but it did hold Mari's attention. We weren't surprised when she didn't ask us to watch it again. I did like their message of acceptance and getting to know things before assuming they are a certain way based on the way they look. Rating: Training Bra...gettin' there

Titan Peeler
Those of you who are infomercial junkies like I am will know what this little gadget is. For $14.99 you get all this, but wait there's more!! Actually, I bought this guy at the grocery store. They had an end cap with the infomercial on loop playing and a nice display of the peelers happily smiling their sharp, slick smile, taunting me to purchase it. I remember being excited about it when I saw and even Don had remarked about wanting to try it out. They had it on sale for $11.98, so I picked one up. That night, I got home, took it out of the package carefully, washed it and grabbed a potato to peel. I did it just like the infomercial, but used the same force I would use with any potato peeler. IDIOT!!! Folks, this is a razor. This is an old-school-no-safety-device-in-sight-exposed-blade-I'm-gonna-shank-you kind of razor. I had nicely peeled that potato, along with a lovely sliver of skin from my thumb. Yes, it slices human skin equally perfect as a potato skin. I didn't immediately bleed. I stood there, in awe and amazement at the sheer perfection of skin I held in my hand, then I realized, "I'm holding a sliver of flesh in my hand!" Then the blood began to gush and it wouldn't stop. I'd exposed a very delicate part of my epidermis that even water made it burn. Wow! No really, wow, it hurt! It really, really freakin' hurt. I was finally able to clot properly after soaking through 3 band-aids. I was seriously contemplating on wrapping my thumb in a sanitary pad.

After the fiasco was cleaned, Don picked up the Titan and I shrieked from across the kitchen and thrust  the instructions in his face, while showcasing my bloody thumb that was about to completely envelop yet another band-aid. (sidenote: oddly enough, the band-aid that worked best was the Finding Nemo band-aid, not the regular flesh toned or clear band-aids) He nodded at me and I held on tightly to the counter top as if him using the Titan would cause the earth to open us and swallow us. I kept muttering over and over that we'd have to take it back and we just couldn't have such a thing in the house with the toddler around. Well, if he didn't pick up the thing and whip out two peeled potatoes in no time flat. I felt like a total moron. For now, the Titan stays, but it is going to be stored up high, out of mine and the Sugarbean's reach. Rating: B Cup...a handful is just enough

Thanks again folks! And please check out Jackie's site!