As it is in life from time to time, this past week was one of extraordinary highs and crushing lows. I also can’t help but feel as though time is slipping through my fingers at such an alarming rate and all I want to do is stop the clock and melt for awhile. I’ve been trying more “mindful” strategies to achieve this. I have been doing a bit of mindful meditation and recently signed up for mindful yoga classes… and earlier this week, my cousin’s girlfriend sent me a link to mindful eating which I would like to do more often. I took a few bites from my protein vegan sandwich yesterday afternoon and decided to chew with purpose which gave my food a decidely different and far more intense flavor. There must be something to this.

In other news, my grandfather slipped away peacefully this past weekend at the age of 94. As sad as the loss was on the entire family, I am glad he is now reunited with the love of his life, my mami Naomi. We had a somber funeral service on Tuesday and were greeted by family members from LA, including some relatives I had never met before. It’s always an interesting affair when my family gets together, but for the most part, everyone was on their best behavior. Papi was the last of my living grandparents and it’s made me very reflective these past few days.

This past week also saw some pretty great highs, too. I met some wonderful women on Saturday at an aromatherapy party I attended with my dear friend Nicole and plans are in the works for an exciting giveaway in the spirit of Valentine’s Day. Stay tuned for more info!

I also jumped in the frigid waters in Long Beach, NY, this past weekend for the Make-a-Wish Foundation. Team Levi raised more than $1,000 for this amazing cause and it was a great way to spend the early hours of Superbowl Sunday. Many, many thanks to all who donated and to the friends who came to show their support and jump in the ocean with us. As crazy as it sounds, ask anyone who attended and I’ll bet you they’ll tell you the same thing: they would do it again in a heartbeat. I’m not going to lie, it was cold, but once the adrenaline starts pumping you really don’t notice that you can no longer feel your legs. I ran in a total of four times. I’m still getting the circulation back in my fingertips. Here are some pics of the event (also notice that in the third picture I accidentally stepped on Bryan’s foot. With my ginormous galoshes. Which he claims hurt more than the cold water itself. Sorry about that, hun).

David is one of the friends I turn to when I need someone to grab a drink with and dish about life, love, politics, and work stresses. He’s good peoples. Sophisticated, smart, suspendered, sarcastic. And single. So if you like his commentary here, contact me and maybe I can play matchmaker. *wink wink*

Before I met Bryan several months ago, David and I sat in a local dive and bitched about dating in this great, beautiful, and cold city as well as the stereotypes men had about women and vice versa. I asked him to write a post for me to shed light on the male perspective because he’s opinionated and clever and I have always respected his views. So he did. And like the terrible friend I am, I dropped the ball on this and let it sit in my inbox for an unreasonable amount of time. (Sorry about that, homey).

Please give a very warm welcome to my buddy David who blogs over at ΔΟΚΕΙ ΜΟΙ and follow him on Twitter @Herkolaos.

***

I have been asked to offer a male perspective on the rather broad topic of dating in New York City. To be clear, this is a male perspective not the male perspective.

In searching for a potential partner, there are essentially three ways to proceed. In addition to the old fashioned way of meeting somebody on one’s own in realife, there is also the intermediary (see: Yenta) or cyberspace. Let us dispense with the simplest of these first, i.e. through an intermediary. This, I believe, functions generally the same for both sexes. Some friend or coworker invariably has the bright idea that two people would be a great match and sets about getting them together. Said friend or coworker is either possessed of some deep insight into human nature and a nuanced understanding of both parties. Or said friend is a meddlesome twit.

So much for friends. But what of online? It is here that womanity has taken its first tentative steps along the path of Targeted Mate Acquisition (TMA). And good on you lot, because now you get to see just how difficult TMA can be. In some ways, it’s like hitting a baseball. If you succeed roughly three times out of ten, you are deemed successful. Therefore, men are accepting of a high failure rate. It is a burden we bear without complaint, for ever and anon do we console ourselves with not being subjected to a menstrual cycle. Women, however, need not fear such a perilous rate of rejection. Though there is surely a more poetic way of putting it, I shall borrow from a Twisted Sister lyric. “I know what you want. You want what we got.”

Still, the potential to experience rejection exists, whether through failing to meet another’s highly subjective optimal ophthalmic standards or by coming across as demonstrably insane. Consider the following: I recently received a message from a girl which was well crafted, intelligent and overall generally pleasant. Natch I perused her profile. She appeared to be quite bright, like-interested and rather charming. I would have liked very much to talk with her… until I saw the pictures, at which point I felt sore ashamed. As you might imagine, I was less than thrilled with myself for making a snap judgment on so shallow a ground.

I composed the following response, here submitted for your (dis)approval, which I (obviously) did not send:

“Hello there, person who is interesting-to-an-uncommon-degree. I respect your courage in not only putting yourself out there but also for laughing in the face of defined gender roles by your female self reaching out and contacting my male self. After careful consideration, we have decided that you score highly in all categories which ‘really matter,’ and have earned a rating of ‘credit to your sex and to humanity already.’ Nonetheless, we regret to inform you that you are hereby: REJECTED. Good luck and thanks for playing. Best wishes: The Mgmt.”

As for coming across as a lunatic, needless to say a whole post could be written on that subject alone. In any event, while womanity may be sloughing off the vestiges of come-hithertude online, it is uncommon rare that this should occur at the local tavern. It is in this arena that the divide between us is most evident.

Men have confected any number of mechanisms by which to deal with this, both fair and foul. These include on the one hand flattery, drink-buying, peacockish displays of chivalry, ingratiation by way of kindness towards the targets friends and light humor. On the other, mendacity, arrogance, peacockish displays of affluence, and any manner of speech or action which may be classed as “Douchebaggery.”

Alas, Douchebaggery knows few bounds. It seeks you always, finds you often, and is not satisfied until the night is won or it is forced to withdraw in defeat. No amount of over-his-shoulder-looking or watch-checking or obvious glances of annoyance to one’s friends will divert it from its aim. And that is not all, for there is collateral damage as well. With every passing minute that Jimmy Popped-Collar is winnowing off your life, there may be some well-mannered gentleman of refined taste who is deterred from sweeping you off your feet.

It has been my observation that through body language, girls will make known whether or not they wish to be approached on a given evening. To be sure, signs may be misapprehended. I grant that it may be ideal, from the feminine perspective, to be approached by an attractive and charming gentleman. Yet as you await him, Douchebaggery circles as a vulture.

Thus, if women are willing to be approached, wherefore are they unwilling to do the approaching? This seems to me to be one of the great differences between our sexes. Many ladies, of course, will argue that it is just as difficult for them to meet a fine fellow as it is for a fine fellow to meet with a fair lady. This may be so. While our approaches do seem starkly different, yet are our objectives strikingly similar. In closing, then, I humbly suggest that if womanity should take some small step toward initiating the Targeted Mate Acquisition, though they should oft times meet with failure and rejection, still they would meet with it less often then do we. And if nothing else there might some circumvention of Douchebaggery to the general welfare of all.

I’ve never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. There I said it. Regardless of whether or not I was in a relationship, I always hated the idea of applying so much pressure to one day alone. This, in effect, can only lead to one thing in the end: sheer disappointment. Either the guy doesn’t deliver in the romantic department or conveniently “forgets” about the holiday altogether or you find yourselves crammed in a restaurant with dozens of other bored couples only to be chased away by waiters just looking to turn tables.

One thing I always tried to keep in mind as a single lady is that it’s a day like any other. Sure, there will be the Facebook messages of love from couples who seemingly need an audience to profess their love. And you may pass a few girls in the office with bouquets of roses and teddy bears, but you know what? We create our own happy. I remember back in high school when I would send flowers to my friends in class; the single girls who also didn’t have a significant other on that day. This eventually progressed to going out and celebrating with the girls over a few captain and cokes many years later. But in the end, Valentine’s Day is always what we make of it.

I was contacted recently by a company interested in targeting the fabulous demographic of singles out there this Valentine’s Day. Started by two young men from France, Ode à la Rose is a different kind of flower delivery service. Their beautiful and authentic Parisian style fresh rose bouquets are not only affordable, but they also use only the highest quality roses ensuring long-lasting freshness. Flowers are hand-delivered the same day they are ordered in a signature gift box that is whimsical, romantic, and fun, and with a slogan that reads “Aren’t you the lucky one?” As if that’s not precious enough, a photo of the bouquet is taken before it leaves the workshop and emailed to the sender with the exact time of delivery. Isn’t that just the cutest thing? I envision a Santa’s workshop with adorable French men running around, but hey, that’s just my fantasy.

Ode à La Rose is offering a special 10% discount on all their products to My Pixie Blog readers this Valentine’s Day. To obtain the promo code, you’ll need to “like” them on Facebook.

This Valentine’s Day, why not treat yourself–or a special friend of yours–to a beautiful bouquet that will conjure up images of cobblestone streets, sidewalk bistros, baguettes, and glasses of red wine. Imagine. The streets of Paris delivered right on your doorstep in New York.

I guess I am a hopeless romantic after all.

If you know me in real life, you may know that I tend to get obsessive thoughts that won’t leave me alone until I do something–anything!–and everything I can to put them to rest. It all started in grade school when I learned sign language. Instinctively, I would sign the letters to every last word that hung in the air. If a conversation ended on the word “elephant,” my tiny fingers would rhythmically move by my side, forming the “e,” the “l,” and so on. It was maddening.

Years later, I dragged my poor best friend from one festival, ren faire, and street vendor to another in search of the perfect tiger’s eye ring. Eventually we found it–at an Oktoberfest in Bear Mountain, New York. If I had to take an educated guess, I think we must have looked in more than 30 locations for close to 8 years. It’s amazing she’s still friends with me.

During the great Bed Bug Scare of 2010, I convinced myself (and those around me) that I had bed bugs in my apartment and at work. I couldn’t stop scratching and even convinced myself that I would be the girl to bring bed bugs on Phish tour that summer. I frantically called my landlord, realtor, and HR department to spray the area around my cubicle at work and to inspect every crevice in my apartment. Eventually I stopped itching, though I never did see a single bed bug.

Some obsessive thoughts have stuck over the years. I still let the water run for seven seconds before filling up a glass, I only step out of one side of the shower, and I have to put my socks and shoes on in the following order: sock/shoe, sock/shoe.

In college, it seemed all my friends were running out to get tattoos and I decided that I, too, wanted to find the perfect one to adorn my right wrist. In hindsight, I’m glad I waited the 10+ years or I may have ended up with Tinkerbelle (I always did have an obsession with fairies). Recently I’ve revisited the idea some more and wanted to choose something that represented my German heritage. I scoured the net for folk art (scherenschnitte in particular, which are too big for so small an area) and quotes by Hesse, Goethe, Rilke, and Einstein, that resonated with me (sadly, German words are entirely too long and a phrase would take up more real estate than I would like on my small wrist).

And then I joined Pinterest over the weekend (okay, so now I know what you all have been raving about for months. Talk about addicting!) and my tattoo search pulled up an image of a woman so beautiful and with a tattoo so meaningful to me that I couldn’t stop staring at it.

“To Thine Own Self Be True.”

It’s a quote by Shakespeare my father always said to me when the chips were down and I began to doubt myself. It’s also a phrase I had engraved on a new iPod just last week. And a phrase I kept considering when designing my perfect tattoo.

I just didn’t want it on my wrist.

I have plans for the wrist. For now, I want to get this tattoo in the same location as Christina Perri (photographed above), but all on one line, and in a feminine, cursive font. Something more like this:

My bestie will get a tat with me (we’ve discussed it for ages) and we’ll go to Bryan’s regular tattoo parlour (I’d say he’s something of a regular with a half sleeve, full leg, and assorted other beautiful tats. I always say it’s Christmas every time I discover a new one and learn its meaning).

So, what do you think? How painful do you think this part on the inner arm will be for tattooing? Bear in mind, I am a giant wuss and cringe at the sight of blood and needles.

Are you on Pinterest? If yes, find me and we can stalk, errr, pin each other. Or whatever it is we’re supposed to do on there. Find my icon to the top right of this page under the “Connect With Me” tab.

The need for approval is something many of us seek out at an early age. In the beginning, we try to find it from parents by acing exams and doing well in sports or extracurricular activities. Over the years, we turn to our friends for guidance when choosing boyfriends and colleges, and in adulthood, we make decisions together with our spouses on buying houses, figuring out finances, and the schools where we should send our children.

Obviously I haven’t made it that far yet. But this weekend I introduced Bryan to my best friend and I realized how much I wanted her approval. She has always been a voice of reason for me and knows me better than anyone else in the world. I really wanted her to like this one. I’ve been with guys over the years that she had reservations about and she would often see things I was too blind to notice. We tend to see the world through rose-colored lenses when we are in the throes of a new romance.

I visited my parents this weekend to meet the new dog in their lives, and Bryan stopped by Saturday night to pick me up for dinner at Veggie Heaven. After dinner, we intended to visit my best friend’s house to attend her small housewarming. She’d heard stories about Bryan for months and was excited to finally meet him.

In a room full of eight lesbians (a tough audience for some of my previous boyfriends), Bryan was a hit. Maybe it was the way he held my hand under the table, or the fact that he helped me navigate around the icy patches in the driveway, or the subtle glances he exchanged with me from across the room, but I relaxed into his presence and realized that, even though I did still want her approval, I had already found my happy place.

As one of my friends was leaving, she gave me a gentle squeeze and whispered in my ear “I like him. And he’s CUTE!”

My friend later text messaged me to tell me her girlfriend picked up on some of the nuances and they both thought he was awesome. The word “happy” appeared three times. She was happy we had stopped by and happy to see me happy.

I was elated.

After the shindig, Bryan dropped me off at my parent’s house and stayed for a while. As we shared a toast with my family, he picked up Pepe, the sweet little schnauzer, and placed him in his lap. Without even trying, he had made another friend.

That was the moment when I realized that I am madly and hopelessly in love with a 32-year-old banjo-playing vegan.

And also this little guy:

As part of my mission to pick up resolutions that resonate with me in 2012, I added another just a few hours ago on my morning commute: to be present in each moment. It came to me when I noticed a woman texting while crossing a busy intersection with her baby in a stroller. I think it’s entirely unfair for me to judge the actions of this woman when I myself am often fiddling with a phone, new Kindle, or iPod, but it does say something about the culture we live in… we’re just so damn preoccupied with STUFF all the time.

I want to hit the pause button a bit more often this year. To just feel and be.

I’m trying to change my ways and have for the past few weeks reconnected outside of the beeping world of electronics. I want real face time because a girl needs her friends for dinner, to talk about life’s stresses, and to get a mani with every now and then. I have had the good fortune of doing all of these things in the past few weeks, not because life is lookin’ bad, but because I don’t want this season to pass me by. To know me is to understand that this is my season of hibernation, but I love my friends (and boyfriend) far too much to spend all that time under the covers (well, some time under the covers with Bryan is never a bad thing…).

Last week I had Ethiopian in Hell’s Kitchen with an old coworker I hadn’t seen in ages. It was fun to shoot the shit with her and catch up on the past nine years since we’d last seen each other (also, where in the hell does the time go?). She is a divorced mother of three and is taking tentative steps to get back out into the dating world. As we rolled our bread and dug into the delicious and colorful vegetarian food in front of us, she asked a question that transcends all ages, cultures, and backgrounds. “What in the hell is going ON out there??” She described online dating as a battle zone of sorts and told me about some of the weirdos she had encountered lately. We swapped horror stories and laughed over the absurdity of it all. She let me know that contrary to popular belief, older men still don’t always have it figured out.

I also went to Rosa Mexicano in Union Square with two of my besties as it had been some time since the three of us were able to plan a date night. For the first time in the history of our friendship, we all have significant others at the same time (one of them will soon get married), and it was fun to find out about their beaus and giggle into our sangria like old times. Also shout-out to the lovely Jill of Glamamom who apparently drove by me that evening as I was stepping into the restaurant!

Last night, I treated myself to a mani with a dear friend of mine who is also diving back into the online dating world after a bit of a break. I’m happy for her. I think she has a much healthier outlook since she participated in this dating detox. And now that I have a boyfriend, I can live vicariously through her stories.

How are you all coming along with your New Year’s resolutions? I’ll be honest: I’ve cheated a bit with the no smoking thing. I’ve had a few since, but I don’t feel the urge to smoke as I once did and I think I’m making strides in a very positive direction. I’m also learning the importance of shedding this thin skin and developing a thicker backbone. That’s still a work in progress, but we’re getting there.

You may also remember that my family lost it’s beloved beagle Linus in October. While there can never be another quite like him, I’m happy to meet a new shelter dog my parents are adopting this weekend. He’s a schnauzer/affenpinscher mix and quite possibly the most unattractive dog I’ve ever seen but I think he’ll make a beautiful addition to my crazy family. I’m happy they’re finally ready to welcome another dog into their home and lives again and I’m glad I’ll have a scruffy little guy to play with whenever I visit.

I received a comment late Friday night that has been on my mind ever since and I felt the need to get this off my chest. This is directed to the reader who left what I presume to be a fake name and email address on my last post; a post I struggled to create and a post I was, in the end, proud to publish. I had to compose myself before composing what I thought was a very heartfelt response to “Alex” but it soon bounced back. And so, I figured I’d just answer this person here.

What we do (bloggers in general) takes some serious chutzpah. We open our hearts and pour our souls into our blogs. While having this online diary is a completely personal decision, there are certainly days I wonder if I should hit “publish.” How much is too much? How do I share without overstepping boundaries? If I omit details, will readers still come along for the journey? These are all questions I ask myself whenever I sit down to write my posts. I have tried my hardest to accurately depict the events in my life without giving away too much, but I am human and realize some things may not come across as well as I’d like them to because I am trying to protect my identity, my sanity, and the people around me.

Since October 2009, my readers have watched me go through a breakup, settle comfortably into the single life, go on more nightmarish dates than should ever be allowed in a lifetime, pick myself up, struggle with anxiety, dust myself off, and eventually, find love again. My track record would indicate that I am not one to fall for every guy to come along my way. It’s taken me two solid years to trust again, which I think was just the right amount of time to allow someone into my life. Bryan and l are still getting to know each other and we have agreed, since the beginning, to take things slowly. I’m not thinking about the future… I am just loving the present. I am experiencing things I haven’t felt in almost 10 years, and you know what?

I’m not apologizing for any of it. I am deserving of this.

If you know me in real life, Alex, you may know that I happen to be an incredibly happy person, as I think I’ve demonstrated over the course of my blogging career (which means with and mostly WITHOUT a boyfriend). I consider myself to be extremely fortunate in that I am constantly surrounded by love and light. I have a loving family, amazing friends, this wonderful blog community, awesome coworkers, and lately, I’ve added a ridiculously supportive boyfriend to the mix. They ALL contribute to my happiness. I am not ashamed of this.

So I ask you: Why would I want to be happy in SPITE of him? Am I happy in SPITE of my family? My friends? All in my inner circle? NO. I think it’s okay to admit that the people we surround ourselves with play a major role in our overall well-being.

And yes. The anxiety. She is a bitch and I still see her from time to time. My friends/family have heard an earful about her, and now I have found someone else to discuss some of my fears with. It’s nice to have someone so understanding in my corner.

I don’t like to censor comments, though I have received some in the past that hurt something fierce. Yours stung a bit, but I think it’s because there’s a chance we may know each other and you were too cowardly to say these things to me in person. If you are a concerned “friend” you would do the right thing and talk to me. Not leave me judgmental comments without a way to connect with you. And if you’re just passing through? You don’t know me and have zero right to criticize the way I live my life.

And so your comment stays. I have enough chutzpah in me to not allow comments like yours to rain on my parade.

It was only a year ago that I was experiencing life with a brand new set of eyes. I had regained confidence, a wonderful supportive network of friends and family, and a dizzying social calendar. I was loving life. A year ago, I did something completely unexpected and joined a team of Polar Bears to jump into the frigid waters of the Atlantic on Superbowl Sunday for the Make-a-Wish Foundation. To date, it was one of the most exhilarating experiences I have ever had.

I have seen quite a few highs and lows since that unseasonably warm day in February. About six months ago, I became quite ill and depressed. Anxiety took over and I have struggled to regain some of my footing since then. Each day posed a new challenge. I experienced panic attacks daily on my morning commute, avoided activities I had always loved, and made excuses when friends invited me to hang out. One evening while I visited my family, I experienced a panic attack of epic proportions on their porch (unbeknownst to them) and had to pop yet another anti-anxiety pill.

That was the lowest of the low. I thought that if I couldn’t enjoy being in the company of the ones who knew and understood me the best, there might not be hope for a recovery. I desperately wanted to return to the life I had always known. But here I was, overmedicated and drowning in alcohol, to silence some of the thoughts in my head. It was a very dark and extremely painful period in my life.

But sometimes Life has tricks up her sleeve. In the middle of all this uncertainty and depression, in stepped Bryan. His calm presence reassured me, his words touched me, and his poetry soothed me. I became hopeful again. I began to imagine a life where I was able to go out and frolic, dance, laugh, socialize, write, and live again. I wanted it for myself. For him. For us. He slowly taught me to love and trust again.

I can’t say that anxiety isn’t something that I live with daily, but I have found ways to accept and make peace with it. Meditation and exercise have helped, but I’m also treating my body better and learning to love myself again. Having a cheerleader in my corner has been tremendously influential in helping me on this path to recovery.

It all comes full circle. Bryan has just joined our team (Team Levi, named after my friend’s baby boy) and I’m excited to have him by my side this year as I take the icy plunge. He didn’t even have to think twice when I asked if he’d be interested. “Just let me know when it is, Mooi.”

A man who will jump into the Atlantic for a worthy cause?

I feel like I won the lottery.

The cause is really what it’s all about. There aren’t many things in this world that would cause me to act irrationally, but the sight of helicopters carrying children whose wish was to see the Polar Bears dive in their honor puts it all in perspective. I hope I am always sound in body and in mind and that I can continue this tradition for many, many years to come.

Absolutely NO pressure whatsoever, but should you feel so inclined to donate to this cause (or if you’re in the area and would like to join our team!), click here for more information.

It’s now been just over a week since I quit smoking so this week’s sponsor couldn’t have come at a better time. I needed something to fill the void and keep my mind preoccupied when all I wanted was to reach for another ciggy. Also I’m determined to work on a full mind/body transformation for 2012. It’s my unofficial resolution.

I have had a blast getting acquainted with a handful of the more than 2,000 video clips at GaiamTV.com. Considered the Netflix for the health- and wellness-minded consumer, this collection of videos brings a virtual yoga studio right into your living room. I have been an avid Bikram yoga girl for many moons, but due to overcrowding at my studio this time of year, I try to avoid it like the plague. With Gaiam TV I was able to search from a wide assortment of yoga, Pilates, and cardio classes with some of the top professionals in the industry, including Rodney Yee, Seane Corn, Jillian Michaels, Mari Winsor, and Kathryn Budig.

Gaiam TV = 1. Hot, sweaty, overcrowded Bikram class = 0.

The site is also extremely user-friendly and fun to navigate. I kept stumbling upon one video after another that I wanted to try, and the nice thing is that I was able to add them to a playlist to view later. Programming is fully customizable for anyone interested in weight loss, total body sculpture, and increased energy, and users can further narrow down their options based on level, style, instructor, and workout time. Reviews are available for many of the videos, which helped me select PM DeStressor in the Yoga Now series with Rodney Yee after a hectic day in the office. This 12-minute light yoga practice hit the spot and was easy enough to fit in before pouring myself a tall glass of wine and preparing my dinner.

With Gaiam TV, users receive instant access 24/7, and they have the option of streaming to their computers, iPads, and smartphones.

This streaming video subscription also offers hard-to-find independent films, family-friendly movies, interesting documentaries (I’ve already bookmarked a few which I intend to watch later), and numerous meditation videos from Deepak Chopra and the Dalai Lama. Can you tell I’m slightly excited about this service?

Gaiam TV is now offering a Free 10-day Trial! Gaiam TV’s $9.95 per month subscription fee allows subscribers to stream unlimited content. The subscription to Gaiam TV is no strings attached; there is no commitment and members can cancel at anytime.

I received a complimentary trial to GaiamTV.com in exchange for this review. All opinions expressed herein are entirely my own. This post was sponsored by Gaiam.

I remember my first time very vividly… The day we told white lies, cut classes, and stole Marlboro reds and a bottle of wine from my parents. We mixed dreadful cocktails to conceal the alcohol from authorities (it was early in the day, after all) and headed to the nearby park to waste that beautiful spring day away.

We were two best friends in high school with our share of crushes and good grades. And that afternoon, we were young, drunk, and irresponsible. Exactly as we should be.

Except that was the first and only cigarette my friend ever smoked. It was the first of many to come for me.

That afternoon I stumbled home and vomited all over the bathroom like the classy broad that I am. Thankfully, no one in the house caught on about the smoking. It was their guilt I felt guilty about. I knew my parents would blame themselves for leaving cigarettes around but it was my fault for picking up another habit to aid my addictive personality. It wasn’t until a year or two later when I was home from college that my mom caught me red-handed. I sat on the porch and nearly lit the wicker furniture on fire after she came home early from running errands.

Since then I have tried numerous ways to quit smoking, always with the same results. Cold turkey never seemed to work, since I convinced myself time and again I can have just the one… which, in my case, always ended half a pack later on a Saturday night.

Bryan and I discussed our dirty habit and desire to quit just before the New Year but when he said he would have his last cigarette on Sunday, I didn’t have much time to come up with an excuse.

He wanted to do this for himself but I realized that I needed to do this for myself, too. Besides, what kind of vegetarian yogi smokes Parliament Lights anyway?

And so it is that I’ve been smoke-free for five days. Slightly irritable, yes, but I imagine I’ll feel this way for at least a few days. Any advice from reformed smokers and thoughtful encouragement from the rest would be greatly appreciated.

Wishing you all a wonderful weekend~any special plans?

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