Friday, December 31, 2010


So this is the new year

And I have no resolutions
For self assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions

"New Year" by Death Cab for Cutie

  Well, isn't that little lyric just a ray of sunshine?  Every year since my post high school pseudo closeted emo stage, this song has played in my mind soundtrack every New Year's Eve.  I love the last two lines.  Think about it.  Almost every cliche resolution doesn't have to be complicated.  They are common struggles with easy solutions.  It's all about perspective.  My problems can be a negative black hole of all things that suck, or I can choose to view my problems as opportunities. that sounds like a Wild and Precious word if there ever was one.

  I have a hidden talent.  I can make things much more complicated than need be.  It's nobodies fault but my own.  Here is my light bulb moment:  I am the one who complicates things.  Therefor, I am the one who can UNcomplicate things!  What a relief of a realization!

  My motto for 1.01.11: 


  I have a jump start on 2011.  Responding to a giant urge to purge all things unnecessary and be as minimal as possible, I have decluttered my house from top to bottom.  I am shocked with the amount of "stuff" I am riding the house of.  "Stuff" that used to stress me, trip me, and even interrupt my sleep.  I'm going to have one helluva garage sale!  With the money earned from selling the things I used to think I had to have, I am going to buy a dining room table.  The table is a response to me growing up.  Yup.  I am 27 years old and have out grown my beloved college era 1950's diners table complete with orange chairs.

  Peaceful.  That is what I am feeling at the moment.  Peace from a clean house.  Peace from knowing that I am blessed beyond my wildest imagination.  Peace from the little baby that just crawled into my lap.  Peace from the future meals I will serve my family around a dining table.  Peace from the knowledge that I am free to K.I.S.S.  

  Happy and Joyful New Year

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Bloggy Book Club

{Scarlett here}

Good evening, lovely ladies. My friend Gator suggested we start a bloggy book club so we could all talk about what we're reading. I think it's a GREAT idea. It's also funny that she asked. I happen to be reading what is going to be the inspiration for my next few blog posts.  It's called:

Bright Lights, Big Ass: A Self-Indulgent, Surly Ex-Sorority Girl's Guide to Why it So Often Sucks in the City, or Who Are These Idiots and Why Do they All Live Next Door To Me? By Jen Lancaster.

Now I'm one of those people who gets really caught up in books. Sometimes I start giggling while I'm reading, such as: in a room full of people, in the backseat of a car during a road trip, in bed before I go to sleep, or at the cafe at Barnes and Noble. But I don't think I've ever almost spit coffee from laughing so hard like I did in my own living room this afternoon as I was reading this book. This woman is HYSTERICAL. Yes, it's a light read about nothing of real substance. But it's so funny and entertaining that I can't put it down. She makes fun of Carrie Bradshaw for trying to glamorize city life. She has this cynical, sarcastic spin on what it's really like to live in the city. I love it. It's also refreshing to know that I'm not the only one who thinks that city life can be a real pain sometimes.

What about YOU? What are you reading these days?

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Notes from the Frozen Tundra

{Scarlett here}

It looks like we have a little S family reunion going on in this blog! Awesome.

We started Wild and Precious because we wanted to show the worldviews of two best friends who lead very different lives. Our friends are a huge part of our lives and we love it when you come and write for us. Gator, you're welcome here anytime.

For those of you who came today for a glimpse of daily life in the nation's capital, glimpse this: my car has been in the body shop for the past week and a half due to an accidental run in with a parking garage wall. I have been relying on the charity and goodwill of my friends who've offered me rides to work, Target, and even the hair salon (thank you Little JS). I'd never let a minor car accident stand in the way of my highlights.


Today I couldn't partake of my friends' benevolence because I had an all-day conference to attend. Instead, I had to rely on public transportation. Normally I don't mind that (too much). There's a bus stop a block-ish from my apartment that takes me to a metro stop where I can catch a train to almost anywhere in the city. However, the temperature today is 23 degrees with a windchill of 8. At that point, I'm not quite sure how they distinguish between 8 degrees and, say, 5. It might as well have been 30 below for all I care. It was miserably, horribly, nose runningly, toe freezingly, teeth chatteringly cold.

I hate the cold and I hate snow. When it's so cold that your face hurts when you step outside, that's unnatural. I've been battling the mother of all headcolds and was not looking forward to exposing myself to the elements in my weakened condition. At any rate, I rose to the occasion by doing what any good Washingtonian would do -- I layered my powersuit with cold weather gear: a bright yellow scarf, red leather gloves, a new bucket hat with a jaunty bow on the side, and dangly earrings, for morale (mine). I slathered on a double layer of lip balm, tightened the belt of my knee-length overcoat (Gap, last season), steeled my resolve, and stepped out the front door of my apartment building.

I was immediately met with an icy gust of wind. The block and a half walk to the bus stop was not for the faint of heart. At one point in the middle of the crosswalk, I had to hold my hat on my head with my gloved hand to keep it from flying off. By the time I made it to the bus stop, the wind had driven into my ears like icy nails. They felt more like ice cubes affixed to my head (accessorized with stylish jewelry, of course.) When the bus finally came, I shuffled my frozen legs up the bus steps and attempted to wrestle my bus pass from the bottom of my purse with my gloved hands. That is impossible to do. I had to pry one glove off with my teeth and then jiggle my purse till I could get the pass unraveled from a pile of kleenex.

There was just enough time on the bus ride for me to regain feeling in my face before I had to get off and shove onto a metro with a thousand of my closest (sniffling and sneezing) friends.

I braved the cold once more to hop on another bus at the metro stop to take me to the conference. At that point, I think I lost feeling in my cheeks. After the conference, I did the whole thing again in reverse. My nose feels a little like plywood with splinters but at least I lived to tell the tale. Now I'm back in my apartment, cozy and warm with plenty of tea in the pantry, a radio station that plays nothing but Christmas music and a good book to read.

Maybe that sounds like a boring, low-key night in the city, but tomorrow evening I have a networking happy hour at a swanky bar that serves Vermont cheddar apple pizza. (HelLO, delicious.) All I'll have to do is get on the *#)$% bus to get there.

Rumor has it that our friend Scout is also under the weather. Hugs to you, friend, and here's hoping for your speedy recovery!

Friday, December 10, 2010

Guest Blogger: Gator Tales

I have this friend Gator who's hysterically funny. She's a free-spirited chiropractor. She's also today's guest blogger. Sit back and get comfy because you're really going to enjoy this. Here goes:

My dearest JS was raised in the frosty suburbs of Lansing, Michigan. (JS is my fian-hub, or hub-iance. Which rhymes nicely with Beyonce.) I’m pretty sure that it stays really cold there all year round from his accounts of childhood. Like, I don’t think they even have summer. When I think of Michigan, I can only think of car production and miserable cold because when asked about Michigan, JS just shivers a little, wrinkles his nose and says, “Eh. It’s cold. Lots of snow. If you don’t cover it up, it’ll freeze off.” Stuff like that.
Until now.

So I’m at the office the other day, finishing up with my last patient visit when I hear my phone vibrate in my pocket. I sneak a quick peak and I see a text from JS that reads, “Remind me to tell you about the story of the tentacles and testicles.” I couldn’t help but giggle and then I decided NOT to share that tasty little morsel with my patient. Although it was really tempting.

Fast forward: 2 days later. JS takes me out on a romantic dinner date to the Brick Oven where we split a dried cranberry, gorgonzola and greens salad (with candied pecans) and killed a large oven fired pizza all by ourselves. There may have also been a double coffee and tiramisu incident… But really, that’s beside the point.

Back to the point. So JS finally decided to explain about the tentacles and testicles. He said that when he was in the fourth grade his teacher, Kitty Hoke, had read a book to his fourth grade class about an octopus that attacks a ship, and then they were tested over the material. (Ms. Kitty was also a member of the infamous duo known as ‘Kitty and Steve with pigs on the bottom of their pool’) When trying to answer a question JS became confused because the answer he was looking for was not on his paper. He bravely approached Ms. Kitty’s desk and asked, “Ms. Kitty… Does an octopus have testicles?” To which she calmly replied with a stone cold straight face, “TENTACLES.” And then he walked himself back to his tiny desk and died of embarrassment, and I spat tea out of my nose. In the middle of a restaurant.

And then, he was off like a race horse jumping out of a starting gate.

“Did I ever tell you about the big boot, little foot story?” “Ummm… No.” So he told me that this one time, his brother and the neighbor kid had worked all day on making a rabbit loop, catching device. Like the kind that grabs you up by the leg. “You mean like a human snare?” I asked. “Well, yeah. But more like a brother snare.” So JS bravely volunteered to step into the loop as his big brother jumped from the tree, activating the pulley. “So I fly up into the air and I’m hanging by one leg swinging a little, and my other leg is all hanging down (insert finger and hand motions). And then my boot slips off because I’m all like FOUR and I’m wearing these big boots and I crash onto my head. Well it hurts a little, but I shake it off. You know, I don’t cry or anything. Well, right about the same time as I’m brushing myself off a neighbor lady sees the entire scene unfold. She races across the street screaming and dropping the F bomb and goes to knock on our front door. She was all like, “Do you have ANY idea what your kids have been UP TO!?” And my Dad was all like, “Yeah.” In his white undershirt eating his pop tarts. “Just watched the whole thing.”

“And then, this other time, I was out sledding with a friend and the street lights came on. Well, we were supposed to be home before the street lights came on. So I am FREAKING FLYING to get home and I’m zipped up in my snow suit. Those snow suits were really hard to get in and out of so if you had to go to the bathroom you would hold it for EVER. Like FOREVER and EVER (insert big crazy eyes). So I’m flying home and I had to go to the bathroom like REALLY bad. Like, I probably hadn’t peed all day and as I’m rounding the last corner my brother jumps out from behind a big bush and scared the piss right out of me.”

“One time, my brother thought it’d be awesome to tie our golden Labrador Retriever’s leash to my belt loop. Then he ran off and started calling the dog. He dragged me for a few blocks before my belt loop finally gave way.”
Me: “Oh my God. Where you like running, or mostly bouncing on your face!?”
“Well, I made a few good (swish, swish) fast strides before I started the face bouncing,” he motioned with his fingers like a little man running while simultaneously making the swish sounds.
Me: “Were you having fun?”
“NO. That was mostly terrifying. Not a lot of fun.”

“You know me and my brother were also in Karate, right? Well, the first day we show up to the Dojo and there’re a few high school girls, some other high school dudes and just a bunch of kids of all ages. My brother’s all playing it cool because he’s like 6 years older than me and I’m all decked out in my little karate gear. And then I see my friend John Hawkins standing in line. John and I were as giddy as a bunch of little school girls. Just basically losing our s-h-*-t all over the place. So John and I see each other and we run across the grass screaming. Like totally geeking -out and naturally we jump into each other’s arms. Like in the movies. So this became our little karate ritual. Sometimes we would collide so hard we’d fall to the ground still in each other’s arms. And then I’d go stand by my brother and Dad and my brother couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t related to me. I’m also pretty sure John had a perm. All the Hawkins had perms.”

“This other time, my brother and I were wrestling over the remote and I was wearing my head gear. Yeah, that didn’t go over too well. He pushed my head into the carpet so hard that my head gear was totally jammed and flipped over my upper lip. And then he had to put his foot on my chest to pry my headgear off of my face.”

“We were living in a condo once, for about 4 months on a private lake. My brother and I were swimming when these two couples took off all of their clothes and got in. We were really close but they didn’t see us because it was dark. So we swam real quiet, got out and went home. Then my brother dressed all in black, took a big flashlight and pretended to be lake security.”

“Also, when I was little, I remember collecting these little balls from the yard and thinking they were berries. I walked around all day with a handful of these freaking cool ass berries and I really wanted to know what they were. My brother promised to tell me what breed of awesome I had discovered if I did his chores for the day. So I finish up his chores and he tells me my new discovery was plain old Rabbit poop. POOP! I was kind of devastated.”

And the stories went on, and on….

Now I know that Michigan is NOT just a frosty tundra with lots of excess snow. Now I realize Michigan is a land with multiple seasons. Seasons for gadgetry experimentation with the help of one’s little brother. Seasons for geeking-out in front of large crowds, skinny dipping, berry picking and more. But mostly I think of Michigan as the land of ill-behaved, unmonitored and sort of awesome hooligans.
I also think these tales would make a fabulous new version of ‘A Christmas Story’.
And I’m also supposed to ask Brother why you don’t try to climb a tree with gloves on…

Friday, December 3, 2010

An Appeal

GATOR COME WRITE FOR US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


I mean, pretty please, Gator my dear, would you consider being a guest blogger?

I think I speak for all of us here at Wild and Precious, Inc., when I say I love you.

You can write about whatever you want. You can do it whenever you want.

Just don't say no.