body in motion

Since getting injured, I've come to realize that I am meant to move. This shouldn't surprise me, seeing as I can't take naps and struggle to sit through a movie, and yet I am still kind of shocked every night as I lie in bed, unable to fall asleep, bouncing my leg, with way too much residual energy running through my body. (I now understand why my parents encouraged me and my four similarly high-energy siblings to engage in physical activity. They just wanted to sleep at night.)

I now see the world in two very distinct groups: more mobile and more sedentary. And, for the first time ever, I understand people who prefer to be more sedentary. I used to beg my friends to work out with me, completely unable to understand how they could abstain from exercise. Now, I realize that's just how they were designed.

Since I've drastically cut my movement lately, you can understand my total shock when, after revoking my yoga privileges today, the physical therapist also told me that I needed to do less, and spend more time off my feet.

Wha?

My mind was blown. I can't possibly do any less than I'm already doing without going completely insane. I already feel like I'm missing out on a chunk of life right now without runs, walks and workout classes, and if I do any less than I'm already doing, I might as well throw in the towel on ever falling asleep at night.

However, I hopefully have only four weeks to go, and I'm not going to let the hard work I've put into not working hard go to waste.

While spinning admittedly burns more calories than running, it just doesn't tire me out enough. I think it has to do with the whole sitting thing.

I recently busted out my old Speedo, though, and after a 40 minute swim I was completely and happily exhausted. I laughed when I looked at the clock and realized my entire swim would have once been called warmup, but that's neither here nor there.

I'm just enjoying being in the water again. Regardless of what pool you're in, there's something so familiar about being under water. For so many years it was my own world, where I'd spend hours each day. From the moment I dove in, it felt so good to be back and I quickly remembered that while the runner's high might get more hype, the swimmer's is pretty amazing, too.

PS: 672 hours to go.
images via and via

the business of closeting

Both sadly and gladly, I haven't been getting my shop on lately. Gladly because I need to be saving money. And sadly because, well, isn't that obvious?

For a while now I've been saying I need to take inventory of my closet and start making a note when I am frustrated with my selection. So the nights when I'm like Ah! I just want a cute skirt to wear with this. Or ah! I just wish I had an easy dress to throw on, I should be writing it down. That way, when it comes time to shop or make my birthday list (41 days), I'll be prepared.

But, I haven't gotten around to this. Which is why right now I couldn't tell you even one thing I want to buy, but I know this fall when I'm dealing with the fact that an easy sundress is no longer acceptable, I'll be turning the closet upside-down.

However, Matchbook has me covered this month with its new closet checklist. There are a few I could do without (khaki trousers) and a few I'd like to add (about five more dresses), but overall I think they offer pretty solid closet representation.
I also think this could serve as an excellent trip pack list.

image via matchbook via notes from my closet 

oh. les fleurs.

It's kind of (really) shameski that after eight years of French, I feel insanely proud of myself when I recognize basic french.

Les fleurs?

Whoo! Flowers!

On the contrary, I feel equally as disappointed in myself when I don't recognize it. So I think it kind of evens out...

In my head I'd really like to take some French classes or Rosetta Stone it, because it sounds very lovely to be able to speak it again. But then I remember that I'm insanely bad at languages and have no desire to actually do it again. And then I go back to just being proud of myself for being able to say: Oh la la j'ai un rendez-vous.

I kind of like being able to say I took French, mainly because everyone else takes Spanish these days (and maybe also ten percent because it makes me feel exotic. Like Brazilian. Or French? I guess). But it gets tricky when I tell someone who speaks French that I took it, because then they say something all advanced and I smile and say oui. Fingers crossed there...

It's kind of like the way I used to feel when I told people I did yoga, before I actually did yoga regularly. Sometimes, it just feels nice to believe something about yourself. And sometimes, maybe, if you believe it enough, you'll make it happen.

Lately, though, I'm more on board with just owning what I really own. I.E. I took French, but don't speak it well. And I make good chicken but otherwise don't really know how to make any other meat.

I think that's the nice thing about living on your own in a new city. Things start to fall away and you realize what you really want, and how you really feel. You surround yourself with the things and people that help you grow, and pursue what matters. And before you know it, you're doing exactly what you want to be doing, and don't even have to pretend that you're bilingual.

And that's just beautiful. In fact, it's belle.
image via and via

if you can't stand the heat...

Everyone keeps whining about this heat, but I'm kind of really digging it. Record breaking? Love it. Heat index above 100? Perfect.

I'm going to spend the weekend soaking it up, that way come winter I can warm myself up with the surplus.

Besides, hotter weather just means more excuses to do things like eat ice cream, drink super cold sangria, spend insanely long hours by the pool and wear sundresses constantly, all the while saying things like: whoah nelly, it's hot.
images: one and two