The 55 degree weather in January made me re-realize how absolutely fantastic this is.

I ride a bike to work every day.

Well, most days.

I have nothing to prove in thunderstorms

or umbrella-shattering winds.

It's a 20-ish minute commute from my apartment to my classroom.

I get to ride the elevator.

I park my bike near the window.

At least once a day, a student makes a comment or asks a question,

mostly out of fascination that a grown-up actually chose this.

But it's a very accurate observation.  

I'm the grown-up who chooses this.

I get so excited when the sun comes out.

I have often shouted, like an eight year-old,

"Let's ride biiiikes!"

Because it's how I still feel.

As a kid, riding a bike was the first taste of freedom.

It was the first time I went anywhere

by myself

where my mom couldn't see me from the kitchen window.

I'm not sure about most things in this department, but I know this:

I want my kids to have that.

It gets cold here, you know.

Sometimes I wear two pairs of gloves on top of each other.

Sometimes, in addition to my regular winter gear,

I wrap an extra scarf around my head and over my ears,

babushka-style,

and put my helmet on top.

I think my floor limit is 29 degrees on a clear day.

I'm happy with that.

I ride at night, too,

with a blinking red light.

I carry the light in my bag

and clip it to whatever I'm wearing.

Sometimes I will walk into Trader Joe's or something

and realize ten minutes later that my butt is blinking bright red.

I can live with that.

Bicycle commuting has been one of the greatest discoveries in my New York life.

Truly.

I didn't think the city could get much better

until I started seeing it from a bicycle seat.

Now I think I'll have a bicycle no matter where I live.

If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere ...

I love thinking about the simplicity of a bike.

And how I power this thing to move with only my energy.

Friends.  Seriously.

It really, really, really

does feel like flying.

This picture reminds me that it's going to be okay.

And that I owe my mom a phone call.

And that I'm overdue for a haircut.

Onward.

2012

The arrival of 2012 came unexpectedly to me.

I know this makes no sense.

Because January 1 is not supposed to be a surprise.

Because the days just go in order.  And I know what a calendar is.

But here I am, caught off guard.

I look forward to life's little benchmarks,

moments to pause and write your own report card.

Evaluate yourself in the different categories of being

that matter to you.

I usually do this on my birthday. 

Personal milestone time.

I had to think really hard about resolutions.

Hopes and visions and goals for 2012.

I want to believe that my future self will be better than the present.

If this holds true, then my present self is an improvement on the past.

And forward is the only way to march.

Amtrak

That grand perspective, however, escapes me sometimes.

All those non-birthday days.

And I need reminders.

Like what day it is.

So that's what I wrote for this new year.  Reminders.

Here's my list, unintentionally ordered by importance:

*

Feel.

It's okay that your feelings exist, 

and that they should guide you.  

They seem to be right about a lot of things, 

and knowing this gives you strength.

New Orleans

**

You can be very, very hard on yourself.

The universe is in a bad way when you get stuck like that.

Hang this on your wall:

I actually purchased this.

***

Teach harder.

The children love to learn and want more,

even if they don't show it.

My classroom

****

Talk on the phone.

There are a lot of people that you love and miss.

Plus, it seems weird that phones aren't used so much for talking anymore.

Sweet fan, West Village

*****

Saying no is okay.

Turning down people and plans for personal time might be necessary,

and is something you can allow yourself, guilt-free.

Everyone understands.

October snow storm

******

You want to learn more about taking pictures.

Do this by taking more pictures

and worrying less about being the girl who keeps taking pictures.

Olvera Street, Los Angeles

*******

Leave the house ten minutes before you think you're supposed to.

Perhaps one's sense of how long it takes to get places

in New York is never fully realized.

Garment District rooftop

********

Plan with finites.

Place goals and projects on timelines to help you reach an end.

The current books-started to books-finished ratio, 

for example, is very high.

New Orleans shop window

*********

Draw the doodles you imagine.

They're worth noting, there's always a napkin somewhere, 

and it feels like such a loss when you can't remember them the next day.

Living room, Little 42

You're looking good, 2012.

Let's get started.

Griffith Park on Christmas Eve

We drafted a mini bucket list for our trip to L.A., to get out of Pasadena (but why?!) 

and do some touristy things we hadn't done in years.

Griffith Park was high on the list, for me.

I remember going there a lot as a kid.

True story:

One time, our parents signed us up to do pony rides that were set up 

around a track-like circuit in the park.  

The dollars your parents gave scored you and your pony

two or three laps around the circuit.

It was a pleasant trot.

Leyla, however, was paired with the dud pony.  

Her pony went absurdly slowly.  

So slowly, in fact, that everyone stopped paying attention,

and she must've gone around and around at least eight times that day.

At the time, Leyla and the pony were a match made in happy slowpoke heaven.

We still laugh about the appropriateness of their personalities coupling.

Leyla and the daydreaming pony, just moving along.

We've all grown up a little, though.

Hahaha.  Okay, maybe not.

I was extra hopeful to find the carousel.

It's my favorite part.  It isn't always open.

Every year, my Girl Scout troop would take a trip to Griffith Park for the

Girl Scout Cookie Kickoff.

What kicks off a cookie, you might ask?

A whole bunch of young girls who are excited about learning things.

And are excited about each other.

And cookies.

But largely just excited about carousels.

Every detail was as beautiful as I remember.

And since it was Christmas Eve when we visited, 

we got to hear its holiday tunes!

And I missed Lisa and Diane and Mrs. B.,

and thought about those Troop 124 days.

True story #2:

I learned how to tie a braid at a Cookie Kickoff one year.

Oh, the details of memory.

  

There were large pieces of plywood lined up in the grass,

and each one had a horse's behind painted onto it, very colorfully.

The tail was a mysterious hair material, sort of mop-like, that came off the plywood.

And you, the young Girl Scout, could style it.

How hilarious to think about now.

The life skills of styling a horse's behind.

But Lisa taught me how to braid that day.

A life lesson I still use.

nostalgia (n.):  my students' favorite vocabulary word of the semester.

I can see why they smile when we review it.

After throwing a frisbee in the sun for a while,

we made our way up toward the observatory.

The top of this climb reveals one of the most beautiful views of the city.

 

 It was unexpectedly crowded on Christmas Eve,

so we didn't go inside.

We tend to roll with it as it comes.

 

lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove

But this city.

Notice how beautiful complicated things look from a distance.

 

In the case of this crazy city, too,

as in the case of the crazy city I have presently chosen,

I like it even better up close.

And I'm kind of bummed out because I honestly don't know if we, as a family, can ever top this.

Christmas in Southern California is a funny feeling

in the best possible way.

I've forgotten how to feel the holiday spirit when it's almost 80 degrees out,

and the desserts are being served under a fully blooming lemon tree.

This year, we celebrated all together.

We are many.

A head count at my aunt's house one night revealed 55 people,

which we casually referred to as, "just us."

The food never fails to disappoint, of course.

And this year's desserts were very impressive.

A little too impressive, if you were to ask my pants.

We even tried something new for 2011.

New for our family.

We held a white elephant gift exchange.

Each person brought one gift, and we took turns choosing them and stealing them from one another.

In other words, we sat in a circle and played a game by its rules.

I'm not sure you understand the magnitude of this.

It was harder to organize than any classroom of children I've ever encountered.  Truly.

You guys.  It was SO FUN.

Everyone brought really cool gifts!

And it took forever, because there are so many of us,

but we laughed so hard. 

And then we laughed even harder.

And it felt so good to see how happy we all were to have only one Christmas present.

---

So.  Okay.

I realize that I'm somewhat obsessed with my own family.

I might write about them a lot.

But the thing is, I think about them a lot, too.

How much I genuinely like them.

And weirdly have in common with them

even when we come from different generations and different continents.

And how it never feels like an obligation to spend time with them

because they're the people I'd choose, anyway.

And lately, we're multiplying.

There are new ones.

And we're so dang crazy about them, too.

It is not at all overwhelming to be around so many people.

I feel so lucky.  

It's at least a little unusual, isn't it?

To belong so effortlessly to such a numerous and bizarre bunch?

It seems like the kind of thing to get excited about.

And be proud of.

And never take for granted.

And shout from the rooftops once in a while.

Mom only asked that we take one family photo, "just us."

#sorrynotsorry