I say “Day Zero” because today, Friday, is actually the first day of the South by Southwest Interactive (SXSWi) conference in Austin, Texas, but I arrived here yesterday in advance of the conference.  A few quick notes on where I’ve been, whose brains I’m picking, and what’s up and coming:

What I’ve learned

• Arriving in Austin a day early is totally worth it.  I had plenty of time to check in, get situated, find a few friends, get my bearings, and learn how to get around.  Watching the attendees descend upon the conference this morning and throughout the day and remembering that I’ve already taken care of just about everything so far, well – I’ve been able to just absorb and not stress so much.
• Not sure where you’re staying?  Ask around.  I tweeted, IMed, and asked my friends if they knew anyone who needed a roommate, and I landed myself in the middle of three brilliant, lovely, and OHMYGODHOT ladies.  I’m not kidding.  On all counts.  Elysa, Nisha, and Christina are all innovative and creative minds with fun and lively personalities, and getting to know these women is an absolute highlight of this week.

Geekery

• Kudos to Foursquare and Gowalla (which I just signed up for yesterday, props to an Austin-based company!) for beautiful new user-interface rollouts the day before SXSWi.  Way to be on top it!
• I have had too much fun already with the bu.mp app, starting with a giggle fest on the plane from DEN > AUS.  I found myself in the middle of @MichaelFraietta and @Caligater discussing all things bump apps, crickets, gators, spirituality, social media, and how GREEN Texas is compared to Colorado’s brown.
• Finally meeting Sydney Owen in person = AMAZING.  Meet her.  Buy her a drink.  Ask her to explain what a “tech boner” is.

Looking forward to

• The arrival of DShan, Jenn Beese, and Jenny Blake today/tonight.  20-Something Bloggers is so well-repped here, and I’m stoked to catch up with a couple of old friends as well as finally meet the beautiful and brilliant miss Jenny Blake.
• Sunday.  Happy hours.  Parties.  Networking til my nose falls off.  Braingasms.  Yes, Sunday please.

All in all, this feels like a homecoming of sorts.  As though my mind – though so far to go – just thrives on being surrounded by such forward-thinking minds discussing how technology and social media are shaping our world.

I’ve always wanted to be a food and travel writer, even just a little, even on the side, even if I had no professional culinary training and haven’t traveled abroad (YET). I picture everything from quirky European hostels to huts-in-the-ocean in the South Pacific, everything from olive oil in Italy and sushi in Japan. And I picture my byline.

Even if it’s on my own plot of Internet real estate. I launched (HA!) NomadicFoodie.com back in August of 2009, with just those intentions. Eat, drink, travel, write. I’d spent the summer traveling all across the country and back, and dining was at the front of those priorities. So, I started documenting that, even if only for the sake of looking back and remembering that the name of that little Italian restaurant in Chelsea with the phenomenal pesto was called Bar Baresco.

Fast forward to last week, when almost simultaneously – I decided to put more focus back into the food blog and then got to actually play like a food blogger and socialite! Law of Attraction, thankyouverymuch.

My whole week has been a foodgasm week. It started on Monday with 12 ridiculously awesome oysters and a seafood platter the size of my torso at Jax Boulder. On Wednesday, I continued my love affair with spaghetti squash and cooked dinner for Chelsea and I, including my very own homemade Honey Mustard Champagne salad dressing (recipe here!) for my new favorite salad (spinach, topped with avocado, dried cherries, and almonds).

On Thursday, thanks to a relationship between 20-Something Bloggers and Athenos Hummus, myself along with six of my other favorite Denver/Boulder bloggers* and our dates and plus-ones, were treated beyond royal at an event hosted at a LoDo wine bar. I’m not kidding – we were treated like press, like VIPs, like rockstars. The Athenos brand manager, Marshall Hyzdu joined us for a drink, personally thanked us for coming to their event, and sat and chatted with us for awhile answering questions about the Athenos HQ in Chicago, about the product, and about how awesome it must be to live off the Blue Line in Chicago.  I also desperately want to go play in the Athenos test kitchen now.

The event also included a trivia game (again, more on that coming) and the host was Erica Cobb from Alice 105.9’s morning show. First of all, she was GORGEOUS. I’m talking flawless. I noticed this when she came over to also introduce herself, thank us for coming, and get to know us a little.

So Athenos (and any other food brand or restaurant or product or anything), if you’re going to give me free wine, free food, a free t-shirt (!!!), and talk to me about chickpeas and olive oil all night, we’re totally in business.

That brings us to Friday night. You may or may not have read my little braingasm of a conversation I had with @mateorestaurant on Twitter that got me in their doors for the first time, or the mini I’m-not-a-professional-but-by-GOD-do-I-love-food review I wrote of that experience, but the owner’s wife did. And Megan brings in a group of folks for happy hour every Friday night and invited me to join them this week.

She insisted I try the gratin, which is my new favorite dish in the history of dishes. It’s Brussels sprouts, drenched in a cheese bath, topped with bread crumbs, and baked. I sincerely believe that it’s the bread crumbs that separates the amazing baked cheesy dish from the mediocre.

Throughout the night, I met the most amazing people (like @cindykcruz), got to know @christopherdan (the brainpower behind BarTweet.com and @boulderbars) even better, and was whisked around between three different restaurants**, introduced to everyone as “the food blogger” and “the bar reviewer.”

Thank you very much, Universe. You just granted another one of my wishes in the most amazing way possible. And yes, Boulder, Denver and really anywhere – I’m absolutely interested in checking out your bar, restaurant, cafe, shop, or whatever. Just say when. Buying me a drink doesn’t hurt either. #justsayin

Want the deets?

• Athenos event recap on Twenty | Twenty, the 20sb Blog.
• Here’s my short review of Radda

*Denver/Boulder bloggers in attendance at the Athenos Two Truths and a Lie Trivia Night: @LGriffindor @Mr5280 @ChelsTalksSmack @ashalahblogs @gracekboyle @jrmoreau (Ok, so James isn’t a Colorado blogger… yet… ) @

**We started at Mateo Restaurant. Megan then introduced me to Radda Trattoria, Mateo’s Italian sister restaurant just north of downtown Boulder, and then since I hadn’t been there yet, Chris introduced me to The Bitter Bar, where I met the most knowledgeable mixologist I’ve ever talked to.

Blogger’s Disclaimer: No one paid me to rave about any of these places, I just really, really enjoy food and wine. Yes, a couple of my drinks were paid for, but not in exchange for any reviews. But let’s be honest – getting me drunk helps. Thanks again to Megan, Cindy, Chris, Hillary, boy and girl Cameron, and Mark for making this a super fun night.

{via}

Need a new muse? Switch up your routine.

Yesterday, when I decided it was time to leave the house and head into the office, I just started walking. I knew I was off-schedule for the bus anyway, but I just figured I’d walk a ways and then pick up the bus somewhere along the way.

I never did, and that’s because I just kept walking. I took turns down streets I had never noticed before, saw apartment buildings and shops I didn’t even know existed, and felt a heightened sense of awareness, just taking in surroundings I’d never seen before.

Observation is one thing; I remember when I first moved to Boulder, I decided to walk downtown from my place and I made a million mental lists of shops, bars, restaurants, cafes, salons, and bookstores to pop into sometime.

Introspection is another thing. There’s something about being solo, even for a two and a half mile walk, that incites my inner monologue. And there’s something about being solo and being active that makes it work overtime. During a run, a walk, a flight, a shower – anywhere I’m alert and disconnected, really – I’m constantly feeding the hamster on my own mental wheel.

Poor little guy.

But the most fun part isn’t the observation that comes with being aware of your surroundings, and it’s not the introspection that happens when you allow yourself to simply be present with your thoughts. For me, it was the fact that changing my routine, walking a new route, and challenging my sense of familiar and comfortable, sparked some really brilliant ideas in my head. Insight for a column I’m working on. Wild thoughts around a project I’ve been considering. The right words to say to that person who needs to hear them.

New ideas, lightbulb moments. Next time I need a creative jumpstart or to just get out of the current cycles of thought I can find myself caught up in, I’m finding a new walking route.

Where do you do your best creative thinking? When do your best ideas hit you?

I am a physical being…

…craving movement, nutrition, stretches, deep breaths, hydration, yoga, vitamins, activity.  Knowing when something is out of balance, and the cravings I get tell me what I need to do to bring myself back into my balance.

…requiring regular sleep, frequent meals, and the chance to move my body, to stretch my legs and arms and breathe in new air.

I am a spiritual being…

…believing in a force higher than myself, in the divinity above and in each of us. I believe in interconnectedness, and that my thoughts actions impact not only the course of my life, but the lives of those whose paths I cross, and beyond into what I cannot see .

…catching glimpses of the whole, of a bigger picture.  The truth that we are all spiritual beings on some level, regardless of how differently we choose to express that in our own lives.

I am a sexual being…

…needing kisses and soft touches and strong embraces and delicate moments. Intertwining your legs with mine, feeling kisses on my shoulders, and hearing whispers in my ears.

…finding security and connection in the feel of my body wrapped up in another.

I am an emotional being…

…allowing myself to feel my way through things, even when it’s painful, even when it’s hard.  Embracing tears as proof that I am a real, breathing person, capable of love and in that same capacity, capable of breaking.  In need of nurturing, in need of healing.  Rejoicing when I inspire others, and hurting when I let them down.  Feeling deeply, loving quickly.

…acknowledging out loud sometimes that it is okay to feel this way or that way, to cry on the floor of the shower, drowning tears with soapy water, or to jump on my bed, giggling when my lack of grace lands me on the floor.  That to go through it, I have to go through it and resist numbing myself to the emotions that are harder to feel, embracing the challenging with the simple, the pain with the ecstasy.

I am a human being

…cycling through wholeness and healing, love and learning, and embracing that my current thoughts and feelings are a direct result of the thoughts, feelings, and actions in my life leading up to that point.  And I embrace that, and if it’s not where I want to be, I start changing the course.

I offer it up, and I go forth.

Photo credit: Rachel Gallagher photography

That’s a totally misleading title because, plain and simple?  I don’t have one.  I don’t play poker because my face hides nothing.  If I’m happy, you’ll see it in the creases of my smile.  When I’m not, you’ll see it in my furrowed little brows.

I was asked a couple of months ago what my favorite thing about myself was, as well as what I’d most want to change.  After a little bit of thought, I decided that my answer would be that it’s really hard for me to fake something – a feeling, a reaction, an opinion.  I just don’t do that well.  When I lie, I’m absolutely guilty of everything everyone tells you that happens when someone lies.  No eye contact, blinking a lot, etc.

I’m an open book, and that’s why I don’t play poker.  (That, and the fact that I’d rather spend any amount of disposable income I have on cheese, wine, a plane ticket, or a new dress from Buffalo Exchange).

On the same token, sometimes to protect myself, I wish I had some sort of means of masking my emotions instead of putting them all out there for the world to see.  I guess though, in the spirit of learning about and becoming this woman that I am – honest-to-blog openness comes with that territory.

What about you?  What’s your FAVORITE thing about yourself and why?

[In the spirit of truths and lies, here's some full disclosure for you: This post is connected to the Athenos Two Truths and a Lie Party in Denver, where they're giving away lots of cool stuff, including a free trip to South Beach! I'm going, so if you're local, you love hummus, wine and trivia fun, come join us!  Just RSVP here.]

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends.  If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion… love actually is all around.
~ Love Actually

I leaned up against the pillar, behind the information stand, in front of baggage claim six.  I scanned the faces of the crowd.  I knew I was early, that it was too soon.  I started making note of the people around me.  Expressions drenched in anticipation, eyes scanning the crowds for their arrivals.  I watched couples enter the baggage claim area – arms around each other.  I saw him kiss her on the forehead.  Whatever brought them here, they made it, and they made it together.

I watched a woman wait in front of me, and as a man walked through the automatic doors and as his eyes met hers.  I watched him kiss her softly first, then hug her tightly.  I wondered where he’d been and how long they’d been apart.  I smiled.

I watched kids run around, and I watched families embrace.  Airports are full of emotions. When I last departed one, I watched goodbyes and hugs.  I watched travelers haul luggage around, moving bags out of the way for one final embrace.

Airports are emotional enough already.

I leaned up against the pillar, behind the the information stand, somewhat in front of gate six.  I could see from here.  I could see the doors open, I could watch the people as they exited the main terminal, descended upon baggage claim, and identified the carousel at which they’d find their precious belongings.

And I waited.  I scanned the crowd, noting reunions, making up stories.

And then he was there.  Just as soon as he wasn’t, he was, and with all of the other passengers, he descended upon baggage claim from the main terminal and scanned the monitors for his baggage claim.

Seven. I already knew this.  I’d already checked.

He didn’t see me as he turned towards the main area, but I had seen him.  I stepped out in front of the pillar, and our eyes met.  Eyes filled with sadness, eyes filled with hope.  Beautiful hazel eyes reflecting the light from my own blue ones.  And then he held me.  In the middle of baggage claim, somewhere in front of carousel six.  And onlookers everywhere made up their own stories, just as I’d made up mine about them.

Airports are emotional enough already.

But suddenly – at least in the capacity of my own little corner of it – this one was filled with hope, with love, with forgiveness, and with understanding.  And then we moved forward.

When he said he loved me and asked for the chance to prove it, I demanded, “Then show up when it matters.”

Seven hours later he was in Minnesota, in my arms, and back in my life.  Talk about putting your money where your mouth is.

*Also? That quote from Love Actually is one of the thousands of reasons why that’s one of the best movies ever made.  Ever.

So far this week, I’ve published just about everywhere I write for except for here.  Expect updates here tomorrow or Thursday, but for now, check out all this social media and delicious goodness from elsewhere I write:

• FRWD – In the Works – Twitter’s New Ad Model
• Boulder.me – How Mateo Restaurant Got My Attention, then Won My Business, My Taste Buds and My Heart
• NomadicFoodie.com – Mateo Restaurant, the food and wine review

Stay tuned for more on:

• My trip home
• My presentation at St. Kate’s
• Big Lovey Stuff
• ItStartsWith.Us chatter

Ok!  Been a little emo around these parts this week, what with the whole adrenaline-management thing and then some serious self-reflection.  Let’s lighten things up a bit for our Friday shall we?

Just for funsies… today, I’m HOME.  I’m spending the weekend in Minnesota, catching up with my family, swinging by my old place, snuggling with my Roxy, hanging out in my dad’s wine shop with Kate and others, and drinking wine in pajamas from my parents’ couch until someone picks me up and carries me downstairs to sleep in my old bed.

It’s going to be grand, and I am absolutely craving the home-type recharge that’s in store this week.

Meanwhile, I’ve noticed a few interesting things in my Lijit* stats over the last few weeks, particularly within “Last Searches that Returned No Results.”  Basically, this just tells me what YOU’ve been searching for that I’M not writing about.  Current terms in there?

• deodorant
• flickr images
• how to cook rice in high altitudes colorado
• petunia patch

So here’s my two cents worth on all of those things, just because YOU asked for it!

Deodorant.  Right now, I use Dove.  I don’t remember which particular “kind” of Dove, but it’s white with a blue cap and smells pretty.  I don’t always remember deodorant though,  particularly in the winter when I’m cold instead of hot.  Don’t worry.  I always smell like a lily flower anyway.

flickr images. I think I know who searched this, but I’m not going to say. I will tell you that if you want to see my photographed life, my flickr stream is here.  Sometimes I use it to edit pictures that end up on ye ol’ blog here, but for the most part – there are some sweet pictures of some fun moments in my life.

How to cook rice in high altitudes colorado. Buy the easy stuff.  I’m using Uncle Ben’s Instant Brown Rice.  And I add more water than I think I need.  Otherwise?  I avoid it.  I blogged about it (kind of) here, though I can’t say that’s going to be much help.

Petunia patch.  I do know how this one got here.  I remember petunias being all over the south when I was a little ‘Ree, so… here – enjoy this Spring-like goodness of a beautiful petunia patch** (Image found here).

*Disclaimer:  I work at Lijit.  They pay me to do awesome things, but talk about them isn’t one of those.  I did just out of the warm fuzzy affection feelings I have for my search stats.  Really.

**TWSS

Note: Sydney, Katie and I all tag-teamed this loosely-defined “topic” after having found inspiration in a recent post of Alex’s.  This is my take.  Oh, and I found the image below here.

*

Do you ever notice how certain phases of your life have certain themes?  For me, it’s always a word or two – something associated with a particular time.  In January, when I moved out here, the words that seemed to echo from every corner were these: growth and kindness.

I was stretching my personal limits, growing into my own skin into a new community in a whole new state.  I was cultivating and developing relationships, all of which were little baby seedlings of beautiful foliage that just needed time and love in which to grow and flourish.  Old and new relationships were changing and growing, and I reminded myself that kindness would keep all of them in tact.

In February, that word was joy.  Opportunity after opportunity presented itself, new friend after new friend – and all of which seeming to fit exactly the right space in my heart.  Everything was new and shiny and extraordinarily exciting.  BRIGHT.  JOY.  Or maybe that was just from hanging around Grace, because it’s impossible to be in her presence without radiating from the inside out.

And then March is creeping up on us.  And it’s tough to put a word to how I’m feeling now.  I’ve been having dreams lately with the same theme, which for one thing – is completely weird for me.  I never have recurring themes in my dreams – never.  So to dream something similar twice in a few weeks… I paid attention.  I dug around a little, and the symbols present screamed rebirth, new chances, and blank slate.  How perfect as the precursor to Spring, right?  New life.

And then I read this. 

Alex posted a beautiful story about her grandmother, and included a poem from a book called The Invitation.  A few pieces of that resonated so strongly with me, that I cried when I read it before I fell asleep on Tuesday night.  I believe that what we do, what we think – is what we continue to attract in our lives.  And for awhile, I’ve been doing and thinking things that put it out there that I accept the way things are, even when in my heart – I know I really didn’t.

And then I read this.

And then I read, and re-read, and re-read, and read this over and over and over:

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.

And I knew what I had done, and I cried.

And then I read on, and the piece ends with this thought:

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

And I remembered a time in my life when I couldn’t, when the empty moments were uncomfortable, where company was frequently sought because solitude meant either boredom or restlessness.  And I remembered a year where I learned who I was from the inside out, where I learned to love who I was from the inside out, and where “being alone with yourself” meant “myself” was no longer a stranger, but a close companion, full of insight and capable of infinite love.

And I cried, because I knew that March’s theme was truth, but not simply just telling the truth, but being truth.  Being your bottom-line, full-frontal, balls-out, stripped-down truest version of yourself.  Of myself. Of recognizing that that changes and grows as the days go on, but that somewhere under the surface, there is a heart and a soul that knows who she is.  And for the first time in her adult life, is unwilling to compromise that.

*(Satya)

I am the eye of my own storm.

My face is still, my expression calm.  Maybe I look like I’m thinking.  I’m not.  My eyes are closed. I take deep breaths. Onlookers and passersby might think I’m in a daze of some sort, perhaps something meditative.

Yeah, right. Maybe if my mantra was strobe lights and clanging noises.

I am the eye of my own storm, used to weathering these alone. I prefer it that way, actually. There’s no real way to explain it, no real way to tell someone else that No, I am in fact, NOT fine.  And no, I can’t at all tell you what’s wrong. All I know is that things are spinny and noisy. Why is there so much noise? Yes, alone is much easier. At least I understand it, even if I can’t explain any single thing about it.

I remember the first one. I was a sophomore in college, it had to have been halfway through the first semester or so. It was definitely cold out. But then, many months in Milwaukee are, particularly during the school year. I remember my dorm room, armoire doors closed behind me as I pressed my back into them, and then slid down until I sat on the floor. I clutched at my heart as my lungs grasped for air. What the hell IS this? It seemed to have come out of no where.

Of course, in retrospect, I can almost always tell when they “start,” not the heartbeats and spinning, but the shift in mood, in the perceived environment that was the spark. I’ll go ahead and attribute that “ability” to the brief time I spent talking to a professional, a counselor, a therapist about it. I’ve mentioned where my whole “live in color” mantra started. How my perspective on life is one of sunshine, and rainbows, and tulips, and kittens. But I’ve never really mentioned how my energy circulates.

Medical sources, when consulted, will support the fact that those predisposed to any kind of anxiety “issues” (I hate the word “issues,” don’t you?) seem to feel an uptick of such anxiety in the cold, dry winter. The spiritual being in me (who believes in things like Ayurveda and knows I’m a pretty consistent Pitta) blames a Vata imbalance, breathes through it, and moves on.

The best way to explain what my normal is now is this almost tantric-like cycle of energy. If our emotions tend to go up and down, then my low is probably your normal. I’m more than even-keeled; I’m bubbly. I’m optimistic (who am I kidding? I’m completely idealistic), bright-eyed, giant-smiled, and 100% GENUINE about all of that. I freaking love everything about my life, the woman I am becoming, and the beautiful relationships I have. My normal, my statusquo, my everydayaveragemood is a lot of people’s “high.”

But my high? Is off the charts. And for the most part, I RUN with that high. I productively channel that manic adrenaline into intense, inspired, superhuman get-shit-done mode. And work is accomplished, ideas are born, creativity explodes. Sure, I end up completely winded afterwards, but then I chill, self-medicate with wine, extra sleep, extra kisses (thank you, Boyfriend), and splurge on meal ingredients for something to completely tear up my kitchen because experimental cooking for me is more relaxing than a bubble bath.

For the most part.

It’s been years since that cycling and recycling of intense energy has actually poured over the surface. I guess I’ve gotten so used to recognizing and channeling it, that I’d forgotten the relief that comes with just letting myself go through it.

I went through it all right. Last week, and in the company of the one I wanted least to drag with me, yet who was the most able to catch me when I was done falling.

I am the eye of my own storm.  Tense muscles, sure, but that’s still on the inside. You don’t see that. You don’t see the flickers and the noise, you don’t see the spinning. I am perfectly still. What you see and touch is cool, maybe a little clammy. What you don’t see… is wild, swirling, dizzying, spinning, falling.

For seconds.  Just mere SECONDS, even though it feels like ages. And then it’s over. Quiet. Clean start, blank slate. Rebirth.

Deep breath.  Start fresh. Send a quick thank you out into the universe for a psychologist who shared enough insight for me to understand and breathe through what “they” call panic attacks.  Me?  I’m just going to call it a breach in adrenaline-management.

And thank the stars and heavens that this isn’t something I deal with on a regular basis anymore.

(image that I’m now crazy obsessed and in love with: via)