It’s okay to have the sads that college basketball is over. It’s okay to have the sads whenever, as a matter of fact.

Parks and Rec (or any form of binge-watch-television) is the best cure for the sads.

The end of one thing only means the beginning of another. Hello, baseball season.

Getting your taxes done > every other adult thing ever.

Texts and fun emails from your siblings makes you feel delightfully young.

The first 70-degree day in New England is an excuse for all of the following: driving with the windows down, buying fresh flowers and sundresses, going out for ice cream, drinks on the patio.

Plan for fun. Have things to look forward to, always.

You don’t always have to impress your parents. You do have to be yourself and trust they’ll love you no matter what.

Twitter makes basketball amazing (or is it the other way around?)

The best part of vacation, outside of actual vacation, is shopping for the vacation.

If you feel lonely, remind yourself how lucky you are.

9:15am. The sun is still rising but not yet blazing. Put on your most adorable sundress and sandals (or for dudes, whatever yells “comfortable” and “fun”). Get some coffee and maybe a pastry.

Step 2: Church.

The songs echo with joy and power, through doors and windows probably shut to keep the A/C in. The people exude the same passion. you’re not super religious (like me), there is something that just, moves you when you listen.

Step 3: BRUNCH.

THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PART. Preferably at Antoine’s, where you can mosey in a little hungover and not feel judged by the fanciness. Instead, you’re comforted by it…that these lovely folks with Southern/Cajun accents in crisp white shirts understand your pain and want to alleviate it with brunchiness. Or more booze, in the form of mimosas/bloody marys, or flaming coffee.

Step 4: Take a street car to nowhere in particular.

Sitting squeezed among tourists, while crawling through the Garden District past Tulane and dozens of houses that leave your mouth agape, is as surreal as public transit gets. You can have a destination, or not…just enjoy rolling through the city and marvel at the people, the homes, the warmth of it all.

Step 5: Coffee.

After sitting in a sun-drenched street car for an hour, there’s some much-needed caffeination to be had. Rue de la Course is an old bank, turned into a gorgeous coffee place with strong brew guaranteed to re-charge your brain. Also, they serve iced coffee in tall glasses, not plastic cups. I am obsessed with places that do this…I’ve only seen it one other time, in a tiny place in Newport, RI. Step your game up, coffee houses that claim to be environmentally friendly.

Step 6: A long, leisurely dinner with carbs and seafood.

A word of warning: you will not feel good about yourself after doing this. You will feel full, exhausted, and may spiral into feelings of low self esteem. Just know that I love you, support you and promise to share my own tales of New Orleans food choices if we ever meet in person. It will all be offset by incessant cravings for vegetables once you leave the city (this is the actual thing that I experienced). The oysters at Drago’s and po boys at Mother’s are excellent options.

Step 7: Beignets and coffee Monday morning.

I am sharing this story as part of the Scintilla Project. Click here to share yours.

I crept the white SUV emblazoned with NewsChannel 12 logo up to the main gate. I could tell before I even got to the front of the line, things weren’t “all set” or “taken care of.” If I remember correctly, the news of the day was a Marine had died on base, cause unknown, and for whatever reason, one of the officials was unhappy with our station’s coverage of the situation. As I approached the officer at the gate, I rolled my window down and tried my damnedest to not look terrified (I do not do this well).

I said hello, explained why I was there, and showed him my ID. With a cold gaze at me and my out-of-state driver’s license, he told me he couldn’t let me on base until I was officially cleared. He directed me to the visitor’s center, where I parked, hands shaking as I turned the wheel. Okay, I thought to myself. I am here, I just need to get to there. I put my driver’s license into the loose, empty pocket of my rain jacket.

A brief background: I had been working at the station a few months, but still felt like I had to prove myself. I volunteered to help out our sports department with shooting football games, because I loved sports and thought it’d be a great way to get to know the area. So professionally, I’m at the point where I’m trying really freaking hard to not screw anything up, while still trying to kick ass.

Once I got inside the visitors center, I called the principal and explained the situation. She was very kind and reassuring, and told me she’d send someone to escort me to the high school football field.

15 minutes pass.

30 minutes pass.

45 minutes pass.

At this point, the game has already started, and I am freaking out. What if someone scored an amazing touchdown????? What if someone made an amazing one-handed, spinning catch without a helmet on??? Finally, after an hour, the principal herself picked me up and drove me to the field.

I grabbed the bulky camera that would burden my right shoulder for the rest of the evening, and trudged along the moist sideline to get to the 50-yard-line. I hoist the camera up, white balance and focus, and hit record.

Thankfully, neither team was very good. A few touchdowns were scored, just enough to make a highlight, and I was relieved I had not been taken into custody. I let the camera fall off my shoulder into my left hand, and the principal, who had stayed at the game so she could take me back to the visitor’s center, returned me to the SUV. I thanked her countless times and violently tossed the camera in the trunk. I couldn’t wait to get off base and be a normal civilian again.

I flew back up 17 to the station. I arrived with plenty of time to cut the highlight, and both sports guys were impressed I made it back so quickly…I didn’t tell them the issues I had getting there in the first place.

Once the newscast and highlight show ended, I reached into my coat pocket to grab my license and put it back in my wallet.

My hand comes up empty.

I feel the color draining from my face as I scurry around the newsroom, scanning the floor for a little rectangle of white. I alert the rest of the staff still there at 11:45pm on a Friday, to start looking around the parking lot, in the hallway, in the edit rooms.

Nothing.

I decide to just head home, and call the principal in the morning. Wait, tomorrow is Saturday. Shit. I would be license-less until at least Monday. I slugged my way home at five miles an hour below the speed limit, completely stopping at every stop sign, looking each way three times. I drove minimally the rest of the weekend, and when I did, I followed the same protocol.

Once Monday afternoon came – I was hopeful a student would have come across the license and turned it in – I called the base, and rambled through what had happened. They put me through to the school, and sure enough, the exact scenario I wanted had come to be. My license was at the principal’s office, and I told them I’d be back that afternoon to pick it up.

I took to Highway 17 once again – with much more caution this time – and arrived at the main gate. I told the officer I just needed to go to the visitor center, and he waved me through. My license was awaiting me there, in all of its palm-tree-mongrammed, glossy and plastic glory. I smiled at my goofy smile.

I am sharing this story as part of the Scintilla Project. Click here to share yours.

An interesting thing happens when I get very busy at work; for a four- or five-day stretch, I go to work, come home, and immediately go to bed. Repeat. Go to work, go to bed, go to work, go to bed. This leaves very little time for fun Internet-y things like Facebook and Pinterest. Twitter stays, because I can legitimately say I get a lot of my sports info from it, plus cute animal videos.

What I had been doing was just going on Facebook once or twice during the day, then consuming the rest of everyone’s updates, photos and links in bulk before I went to bed.

Not anymore!

I have recently committed to getting not only more sleep, but more quality sleep.  There’s an iPhone app that my true nerd self thinks is the bee’s knees…it’s called Sleep Cycle. It tracks the stages and quality of your sleep through the accelerometer in the phone, and wakes you up when you are in your lightest phase of sleep so you don’t feel like death when you wake up. Genius, right? You get a graph of when you were lightly sleeping, sleeping, and deep sleeping when you wake up. It rates the quality of your sleep on a percentage up to 100, so I feel super proud when I reach a high number (my career high, after one week, is 85%). There’s a choice of lovely alarms to wake up to as well. What does it say about me that I take an immense amount of pride in getting a good night’s sleep? Judge away, folks. Judge away. I WILL FACE YOUR JUDGEMENT EXTREMELY WELL-RESTED.

Back to the getting better sleep thing…it’s been shown that you should not look at any screens for an hour before you plan to go to bed for better quality sleep. My first reaction was, But…but…what the hell will I do for an hour? Read? Fold my laundry that’s been rumpled for days? Clean? Something else that is 9,867 times more productive than looking up recipes for my Vitamix?

So now, as much as I love seeing friends become homeowners and newly engaged and in wonderful places, I don’t do it constantly. Baby steps! Plus, I saw a status update from a friend of mine the other day that really resonated with me:

Three words you’ll never hear me say:

“I’m so jealous.”

When I see someone in love, I’m happy for the joy that their relationship creates.

When one of my friends is crushing it in business, making five or six figures a month, I’m happy for their success.

And when I see a friend of mine on Facebook skydiving, holding a tiger, partying in Ibiza, or snowboarding with some of my closest friends, I think: “Good for them. I’m so glad they could have that experience.”

Jealousy is poison. And making comparisons is a big waste of time.

Just do you.

PREACH. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I do get the jealousies now and then. I feel like it’s a natural reaction that subsides with maturity and your own success. It doesn’t serve as motivation. When you start feeling genuine happiness for people, and TELLING THEM you’re happy for them, it makes a genuine impact.

A few years back, I took a week off from Facebook, and found myself remarkably productive, friendly, and creative. The productive thing is totally understandable…when you can’t waste time, you don’t. The friendly thing was unexpected, and I think it came from wanting to connect in person, since I couldn’t do it from behind a computer screen. I think the creative came from – WOO WOO ALERT – looking inside myself for inspiration instead of other people. I journaled a bit. I read. I looked at my old photos. I did stuff on my own.

I got back on Facebook after the week with a new outlook on it. Maybe I should do it again? Have you ever taken an extended Facebook break?

This post was inspired by a prompt from Doniree Walker. Want to be inspired, too? Click here to for more details. Note: I’m an affiliate of Doniree’s, because I think she’s fantastic. I wouldn’t vouch for something that I didn’t think would help you, too 

A breakdown of some memorable moments of the trip (some numbers approximate):

Two…days I saw fog. The local forecasters called the week “spring-like.” Coming from the dead of Connecticut winter, the weather could not have been better.

No fog, no problem.

Six…times I stopped during my initial walk of the city through Pacific Heights. To just stare. Sometimes pictures aren’t necessary.

15-20…beers I tasted at a beer tasting. Which was followed by chicken tacos slathered in guacamole. And a little more beer. Pretty much my most college night ever…since college.

23ish…fries consumed on one night of burgers. There were truffle fries ON MY ACTUAL BURGER (also on this actual burger: avocado, gruyere, carmelized onions, dijon mustard…basically decadence on a bun), then regular fries, sweet potato fries and zucchini fries on the side. I had a chocolate milkshake too. Still full.

26ish…sea lions, whose chorus of howls scared Penny the puppy (henceforth known as Miss Penny) to the point where she refused to take another step in their direction.

The locals at Pier 39. They’re pretty loud.

36ish…sea lions, whose chorus of howls scared Penny the puppy (henceforth known as Miss Penny) to the point where she refused to take another step in their direction.

55ish…steps I took out onto the Golden Gate Bridge. This astounds me, as it didn’t occur to me that, you know, YOU COULD ACTUALLY WALK ON THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE, until I actually did.

60ish…pieces of art we “appreciated” at the simply gorgeous de Young Museum at Golden Gate Park, which looks a living, breathing recreation of Jurassic Park. By appreciated, I mean giggled at, made inappropriate jokes about/funny noises at, enjoyed the art featuring dogs.

Going under the Golden Gate.

118…pieces/sections of avocado eaten. Sorry I’m not sorry.

120…Pictures in my iPhoto album.

Lost count…of the number of times we drank during a Ray-Lewis-centric Super Bowl drinking game, successfully administered by yours truly.

Endless…Miss Penny kisses, laughter, carb comas, burning thighs (man, those hills…#TheStruggleIsReal), jaw-dropping scenery, nostalgic moments. An enormous thank you to my beautiful friends Kiley and Adam for showing me their beautiful city. I will be back some time in the summer for a Giants game, wine tasting and a visit to a store called Meggie.

J. Rene Coffee Roasters – Tucked away from West Hartford Center on Park Road, this is the best place for when I want a break from Starbucks, or a really pretty cappuccino with a grilled banana-and-nutella-on-a-croissant sandwich.

Customers have a choice of how they want their coffee brewed…french press, siphon pot or cremex. The decor is lovely…big wooden tables, unique light fixtures and plenty of seating. And you can see the equipment they brew the coffee with.

Treva – In the middle of bustling Farmington Avenue, next to a CVS, is this enticing Italian spot that features my absolute favorite happy hour in town. My friend and I make dinner out of it about once a month, and it never disappoints. They have a selection of $3 and $5 appetizers, including out-of-this-world mussels, bruschetta with hangar steak, Tuscan fries (drizzled with truffle out and dusted with Parmesan…in a word, WHOA), and caprese salad. They have discounted wines and beer, and a full dessert menu. The affogato is sublime. A word of warning: this place is almost always busy, so come early for happy hour or make a reservation for dinner.

Harry’s Pizza – Who could guess the best pizza in town would be next a Big Y in a strip mall? When I moved over the summer, I bribed two of my friends to help me with boxes and shuttling them over to my new place, and rewarded them with pizza from here. I was curious…could a pizza place really be the best-reviewed restaurant on Yelp, in town full of fine dining? The answer is a resounding yes. The kitchen does close in the middle of the afternoon, so only slices of certain pizza are available for lunch. It’ll still be delicious, I promise. They just opened up a second location in the Center, but this one strikes me as more charming.

Max Burger - Hands down, my favorite restaurant in the state. I always tell myself I’m going to get something other than a burger, but I never do. Every burger on the menu is different and decadent. I have yet to try their boozy milkshakes, which I am putting on my list of VERY IMPORTANT THINGS I MUST DO SOON. Here is evidence of the decadence: the Beadle Burger, inspired by former ESPNer Michelle Beadle.

The Beadle Burger. I can’t remember what was on it. It blew my mind.

In addition to the burgers, the fries are top notch, and you have a choose of regular, sweet potato or eggplant fries. The pickles are house-made and are the first thing to leave my plate. Gotta get those veggies to balance out the beef, ya know?

Half Door – The best brunch in town is at an Irish gastropub in a slightly shady part of town, on the Hartford/West Hartford line. It’s part of the allure, really. They feature a specialty cocktail each Sunday, along with inventive options like Scottish eggs benedict, and a green eggs and ham sandwich.

Why yes, I DO like green eggs and ham.

I want to make an effort this year to buy more from local boutiques and shops. I like the idea of supporting the businesses and people where I live. What are your favorite local finds?

PS I am off to San Francisco for the week to visit my best friend, and CAN NOT WAIT to visit some of the great local restaurants (recommendations welcome!). And of course, visit with my friend, her husband and their new puppy. I’ll definitely be writing about it when I get back, and posting pictures on Twitter along the way.

This post was inspired by a prompt from Doniree Walker. Want to be inspired, too? Click here to for more details. Note: I’m an affiliate of Doniree’s, because I think she’s fantastic. I wouldn’t vouch for something that I didn’t think would help you, too 

Quit telling yourself you’re old. Dear People Everywhere Especially People In My Age Group: YOU ARE NOT OLD. Telling yourself that you are is not funny or endearing. Banish that word from your vocabulary when it comes to your age. It is about celebration of another year, not lamenting how many have gone by. I don’t care if you’re 80…you’re only as old as you feel.

Try something new. Wanna feel young? Do something you’ve never done before, eat something you haven’t eaten, go somewhere you’ve never been. I love clean slates. On my trip, I tagged along with my sister to capoeira, aka Brazilian martial arts sexy dance fighting, which she’s been doing for six years. I ended up loving it. It made me feel strong, athletic (which DEAR GOD I AM NOT), and empowered. I plan on researching places to do in Connecticut once February rolls around.

Go somewhere with someone you love. Self-explanatory. There is nothing like feeling loved and going on an adventure.

Eat something special. Something exotic, something you may not eat for the rest of the year. Think special, unique, memorable. I had rattlesnake dip (seriously), buffalo tenderloin and sarsaparilla for my birthday dinner. The next day, at Linger, I nearly passed out over the Devils on Horseback, bacon-wrapped dates with goat cheese. As close to perfect as anything I’ve ever eaten.

Don’t drink too much. Who wants to feel like crap the day after? Not me. Take it easy. One thing you can’t drink too much of…sparkling water. My sister and I went through multiple boxes. Hydrate or die, she likes to say.

Treat yo’self. Whether it’s a massage, a dip in the hot tub, or just a glass of champagne, find a way to pamper yourself without apology. Shout-out to my dashing brother and his lovely girlfriend for treating my sister and I to spa treatments at the Oxford Club.

Do something ridiculous. It doesn’t have to be totally insane, just something you didn’t think you’d ever do, or seems too incredible to actually exist. It has to be ridiculous, only to you. Well, we went dogsledding in sub-10-degree temperatures in Breckenridge. One of the coolest, literally and figuratively, experiences of my life.

Reflect on what you want the next 365 days to look like. What do you want to say about your year on your next birthday? What do you want to accomplish? What do you want to do more of? It’s never too late to start dreaming.

Other assorted recommendations: engage in dog snuggling, use a hot tub frequently, watch this video (NSFW at all, FYI), smile and laugh without limits.

As I was packing for the trip, I went back-and-forth between bringing my laptop. I ended up leaving it at home, opting for my Kindle Fire instead. Between that and my iPhone, I’ve been set. It wasn’t until this trip that I truly discovered how powerful and mini-computer-like the Fire is. How have these handy devices and apps made my trip even more awesome?

Via Facebook, I got off the plane to dozens of notifications from people wishing me a happy birthday. I also found out my best friend got a new puppy.

Via Foursquare, I’ve checked in to just about everywhere we’ve gone. It’s kind of like an abbreviated travel journal.

Via Twitter and the radio, I listened intently to ALL OF THE FOOTBALL. It felt really exciting not to see any of the games until after they were over…

…Via WatchESPN and SportsCenter. I fell asleep each night with my head on one pillow and my phone on the other, letting the highlights ease me into dreaming.

Via Yelp, I found us a spot for breakfast on the way to dog sledding. Yes, you heard that right, DOG SLEDDING. Bacon, egg and cheddar wraps FTW. Also…huskies FTW.

Via Evernote, I’ve been keeping up with my gratitude journal. I simply write something I’m thankful for each night. It really puts me in a good state of mind before I go to bed.

Via WordPress, I’ve been tip-tapping out this very post.

Other than those…

Pandora keeps me sane at work.

Instagram keeps me smiling.

Google Maps, in conjunction with my GPS Midge, keep me going in the right direction.

Mint keeps me on budget, and tells me if I can buy those Frye boots I’ve been swooning over for months.

TeuxDeux and Paperless keep my to-do and grocery lists fun to finish.

Also, I registered for another ridiculous weekend at Bloggers in Sin City in May…on my Fire. My inner nerd geeked out over booking something so amazing on such a small device. So excited to see people I met last year and meet new friends.

What are your apps you can’t live without?

The thing is, with most of my nearby friends being coworkers, and the wacky scheduling of working in live TV, it’s damn near impossible to get a group of people together. When it does happen, it’s usually epic. There is dancing and vodka involved.

Traditions I would like to start?

Brunch.

Trivia.

Friday nights at the Hooker Brewery.

A monthly outing to cross something off the Connecticut Bucket List.

When I lived in smallish-town North Carolina for 18 months, traditions were much easier to come by. I think the traditions, along with my roommate’s adorable dog Sam, are the only things that kept me sane during that time. Most of my coworkers and I were navigating being full-blown adults for the first time, so we stuck together.

Game night. We had an almost-weekly game night that was just as awesome as it’s about to sound. There was usually no booze, only Kool-Aid (it better have been fruit punch and not strawberry, or I was not a happy camper). Despite the lack of alcohol, things tended to get super inappropriate really quickly, and hence, I’d wake up Sunday mornings with a sore stomach from laughing so hard.

Beach trips. Every venture to Emerald Isle or Atlantic Beach involved at least three things (or a combination, ideally)…1) getting coffee on the way down or getting pizza on the way home 2) beer. Lots and lots of beer. 3) Sunburns. 4) Someone having to pee on the way home and the steadfast refusal of whoever’s driving to stop.

Greenville. Question: what do you get when you have a group of recent college grads working their tails off, making overnight trips to a ridiculous college town? Answer: cheesy tots, uncomfortably-close dancing with guys still in college, some live music and tremendous breakfasts the next morning.

One of my words for 2013 is connection…I want to strengthen and embrace the relationships I have, and make new ones. So, Connecticut friends reading this…which one of the above sounds good to you? I’ll do my best to get it started

This post was inspired by a prompt from Doniree Walker. Want to be inspired, too? Click here to for more details. Note: I’m an affiliate of Doniree’s, because I think she’s fantastic. I wouldn’t vouch for something that I didn’t think would help you, too 

One thing I know for sure when it comes to clothes: I love simple, with pop. Black top, animal print shoes. White oxford shirt, colorful bangle or other jewelry. Cobalt blue dress pants, neutral top. One of the favorite things in my bedroom, the centerpiece from my best friend’s wedding, exemplifies this pretty well.

Simple, with pop.

Elements of style I love: shoes that make the perfect noise, dangly earrings, V-necks, wearing dresses with leggings, cashmere, scarves, blazers, navy and orange (together and separate), leather jackets.

The current favorite piece of clothing I own: the purple tunic with sparkly neck line you see on my About page.

Current fashion quests: little black dress, black mid-calf boots, oxford shirts that do not look like they belong to a man, long sleeve t-shirts.

In addition to these quests, I have some questions…

Why is everything see-through? I am convinced there has been a formal agreement, between clothing designers and Spanx, forcing every woman to buy Spanx because she can’t wear a blouse without one. WHY MUST I CONSTANTLY WEAR LAYERS. I find this endlessly frustrating and uncomfortable.

Who created the no-white-after-Labor-Day rule? I want to kick them in the teeth. I love wearing white in the winter. I find myself fawning over white, long, knee-length button coats.

I can’t wear obnoxious heels for an extended period of time…does that make me less of a woman? Y’all, I can’t deal with unhappy feet. My mental toughness is just not there. I need to be able to dance and drop and dissolve into delirium WITH COMFORT, OKAY??? Please don’t judge me…I’m fun to hang with, I promise. And I won’t be walking like a penguin at 3am. Unless I choose to.

What’s your style? Do you have a phrase that defines it, or are you a little all over the place, like me? What are your favorite pieces?

This post was inspired by a prompt from Doniree Walker. Want to be inspired, too? Click here to for more details. Note: I’m an affiliate of Doniree’s, because I think she’s fantastic. I wouldn’t vouch for something that I didn’t think would help you, too