Fitness Challenge #2- 50% Finished

Screen shot of my workout calendar. 50% complete!

As I mentioned in my final update in the 30 Day Shred and Yoga challenge, I started a new fitness challenge immediately after completing the first. This one is more intense. I didn't update last week but I wanted to do a quick post now to let you all know I am officially 50% through and I have not missed a single workout.

I don't have access to a printer so I had to forgo the stickers this time. Instead, I am using clip-art of gold stars to mark my progress. The calendar does not mention that I have to do yoga every night, but I still do. It also refers to workout numbers, as there is a separate workout reference sheet. (I told you it was more intense!)

I'll be honest, I'm not as enthused about this challenge as I should be. I don't have all the fitness equipment I wish I did nor do I have access to a treadmill, which would be very helpful. I'd really like to re-train for a half marathon but I really need a treadmill to get my pace back in check. After running on a treadmill for a while I could feel out my pace when running outside. I think I need to re-calibrate it, so to speak. I'm also kind of irritated with the whole fitness thing right now. Usually, working out is a nice escape from a worried mind, but it has not been working for me lately. I'm finding it harder and harder to force myself to keep up with this even when I'm not getting everything I want out of it. 

I think my lack of enthusiasm is disheartening, but at least my stubbornness keeps me on track. That's the beauty of the fitness challenge- I really hate failing. I don't say I am going to do something unless I plan to do it, so the challenge continues. 

Any suggestions for keeping motivation alive? Or stories of challenges of your own?

In case you want to read about the past Fitness Challenge

30 Day Fitness Challenge

Fitness Challenge: End of Week 1

Fitness Challenge: End of Week 2

Fitness Challenge: End of Week 3

Fitness Challenge: End of Week 4

The Problem with being "Exotic"

What is it with the whole idea of being "exotic" that people find so fascinating and attractive? No one wants to be found interesting or attractive just because of their ethnicity. Of course, that kind of stuff can play into it, but it shouldn't be the sole reason for anything.

I'm tan. Get over it. 

I am from a small suburb where most people wear SPF 50 if they plan to be in the sun for more than 30 minutes. Seeing as I tan easily, never burn and happen to have super dark eyes and hair, I tend to stand out. Of course, America is a melting pot, so people do not usually assume I am too different. However, a lot of people wonder about my ethnicity. I'll tell you right now- I'm 1/4 Japanese, 1/16th Native American and the rest is the typical American mess of European lineage. My strange Japanese and Native American mix really just means I have high cheek bones, slightly different eyes and dark hair. I could be a wide array of ethnicities. This is the problem.

Guys have a thing for "exotic" girls. During high school, I went mostly unnoticed. Not like weird girl with the stained hoodie unnoticed but, you know, just a girl. However, more than once, a guy found out I was part Asian and immediately found me more attractive. I get it, Asian girls are hot, I'm not here to argue about that, but I'm the first to (sadly) admit that I do not look Asian. I lost the awesome slanty eyes around age 10 or so. So please tell me, why does the mere fact, not physical evidence of my Asian decent result in a couple extra notches on the hot meter?

I now live in Argentina and thanks to my ethnicity mix, I blend in incredibly well. No one would suspect that I am anything from Argentine just by looking at me. In fact, because I learned my Spanish in this country, I can often speak without anyone knowing. It is usually not until further into a conversation that anyone will find out that I am actually American. I cannot tell you how annoying their change in demeanor is. Guys suddenly find me fascinating, ever so beautiful and, let's face it, a sweet trophy.

I'm proud of where I was born and where my parents were born. However, being foreign makes it difficult to see who is sincere and who isn't. It was much easier in the States but being here, I am a gringa and people love gringas. Not just guys and not just for dating. Everyone wants to practice their English and I am the perfect person to use. I'm glad to help, but I hate feeling like I am everyone's conversation partner.

Has anyone else ever felt like being "exotic" has resulted in extra, unwanted attention?

Knowing When to Say Goodbye

It was this time last year that I decided to move to Buenos Aires. Of course, it took me months to plan the move and actually leave, but I did it. I heard this song the other day and I felt like I could really relate to the lyrics:

I'm bored of this town, bored of this scene, bored of these people, yeah.
I'm an expert at pretending that everything is OK,
But I'm just a kid and it seems as if I've signed my life away.
I need to get out and see what the rest of the world is about.
This town ain't big enough for the one of me, I'm making a move.

My mom and cousin Jodi- 1/2 of the family I have in STL

The thing is, as much as I appreciate St. Louis as a city, the only reason I started seeing it as the place I wanted to end up was because of my ex and his family. I loved him and that family so much that I knew that no matter where I went in the country or the world, I'd want to come home to them. I'm not ashamed to say that and I definitely don't think there is anything wrong with that. St. Louis is a great place to live, especially if you have a family to stay for, but I don't anymore. Of course that's sad, but it is also liberating.  

Being away from St. Louis allows me to see my city for what it is. A place full of free activities, amazing parks, excellent food, open mic nights and the St. Louis Blues. I will always be proud to say I am from St. Louis, but I have no intention of living there ever again. 

Ryan (3) and I on my last day at St. Cecilia's

St. Louis simply wasn't enough for me anymore. I don't want it to sound like I hated St. Louis, the people or even my life there. In fact, it wasn't like that at all. I went to college in St. Louis and adored it. I will forever be a proud Webster graduate. I freed myself of terrible office life and landed a dream job as a bilingual preschool teacher and translator for an amazing school right out of college.  To this day I would still say it was the best job I have ever had. My time at St. Cecilia School is something I am so grateful for and I will never forget it. It was truly incredible to be able to wake up every day and always want to go to work. Those preschoolers needed me and I needed them back. I know I wouldn't have made it through all the miserable stuff I was dealing with this time last year without them. I felt so lucky to be a part of my students' lives. I also loved the community of the teachers. I adored being the youngest teacher and feeling both new and respected. Quitting that job was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. So, why did I do it?

As a teacher, you watch kids grow up. You tell them they can be anything. If they love Miley Cyrus (as so many of them did), you tell them that they can be as famous as her. If they love to draw, you tell them that they can be an artist. Children and Spanish are two of my greatest passions, so in some ways, I was living the dream. However, as you grow older, you realize that you may have more than one dream that needs to be realized. I had dreamt of moving abroad, speaking Spanish every day and taking on a whole new social and professional challenge. In the past, I had settled for trips abroad so I could stay based in St. Louis, but it was time to let go. 

I wanted to to earn a college degree.  I earned two.

I wanted to see another country. I saw 4. 

I wanted to get a job that used at least one of my degrees. I got to use them both. 

I wanted my job to feel like a honor. Nothing is a greater honor than to be a part of the life and development of such amazing children. 

Fishbowl Margaritas on Cherokee Street

No one could say I had failed. However, for me, success is continual. If I stayed, I'd never know if I could have done more. I had to show my kids that being drastic and dreaming big pays off. That is why I dedicated a half marathon run to them before I said my goodbyes. That is why I left a city, a job and memories that I loved so much. I had other dreams to conquer, and I still do. I miss St. Louis all the time. I miss my friends, college days, Cherokee street Mexican food and runs in Forest Park. I freaking miss the City Museum and it kills me to think my kids might forget who I am. But you have to know when to say goodbye, not matter how much it hurts. You have to know when you have accomplished all you set out to and when it is time for a new challenge. 

I need to get out and see what the rest of the world is about.
This town ain't big enough for the one of me, I'm making a move.

What bittersweet goodbyes have you been through?

Fitness Challenge Update: End of Week 4

I'm a little late on this update, but I thought I should let you all know the first month long challenge is complete and it was a complete success!

4 weeks straight. Nailed it.

Six days a week, 1 workout video and 1 yoga workout for 1 month straight. I did not miss a single one.
I am significantly stronger and super proud of Emily and myself.

I work out a lot and I am pretty good at keeping myself motivated, but I can honestly say that there were days I forced myself to get up and work out or take the time to do yoga before bed just so I wouldn't fail at this challenge. I knew that, in the short term, it only resulted in a sticker. I knew that I could tell Emily I skipped a workout and she wouldn't be mad at me, she would just tell me to do better tomorrow. However, I never wanted to do that. I didn't want to face Emily, my blog, or myself because I knew it would mean I chose to fail.

For that reason, Emily and I have started yet another Fitness Challenge. We didn't even take a day off, it started on Monday. This challenge is significantly more difficult. It is so complicated that I had to have several talks with my brother, Ben, who is a personal trainer. Together, he and I designed the next challenge. He provided me with 5 different circuit training work outs. I added in all 3 levels of the 30 Day Shred and running. I made a workout reference sheet and a corresponding calendar that lists 2 workouts a day. We never do the same workouts two days in a row. It is intense. Yoga is also still a  required portion, for recovery and relaxation.

I'm two days in and sore. However, I feel really, really good about this. Wish us luck for our next endeavor and keep up with the updates!

Fitness Challenge Update: End of Week 3

Week 3 of the Fitness Challenge has come to an end and I can declare it a success!


This week was pretty good, challenge wise. Emily and I switched to Level 2 midway through week 2. Somehow, I always thought Level 2 was the worst. Maybe not for the actual difficulty level but the combination of really annoying moves. I hate having horse-faced Jillian tell me to get into plank pose for the 5,222nd time in 20 minutes then point to her professional helper and say "If she can do it, you can do it!". Jillian, you are a moron. If I pointed to a doctor and said the same thing, would you magically be able to perform surgery? No, because you need training for that.

Emily and I tired of Level 2 quickly. We had originally planned to switch to level 3 today, but we started it yesterday. It is much more intense but I actually enjoy it much more. It seems to go by incredibly fast. I end every work out completely drenched in sweat, but feeling good.

Today was my biggest challenge of the week. I went to a party last night and went to bed around 4am. I didn't want to do anything, much less work out. However, I convinced myself to just suck it up, work out and then have a lazy day of nothing. Oh yes, I worked out, showered and put on comfy clothes, took out my contacts and  proceeded to have a do-nothing day.

So, I ran into an issue this week. I'm not even sure if it can be called an issue since that sounds negative. I realized that several of my shirts are now way too tight around my biceps. I put on one of my shirts and felt like Chris Farley trapped in a tiny jacket. I mentioned last week that Emily and I were both gaining a lot of muscle, but this seemed a little ridiculous. My shoulders and arms have rendered many shirts useless to me now. On one hand, I feel like a beast. On the other hand, I fucking liked those shirts, damn it.


Even though I earned my reward, I decided not to buy one this week. I want to save money and I also like knowing that this blog update was motivation enough to make me get off my ass today. I didn't want to let anyone, including myself, down.

3 weeks down, 1 more to go. Get after it!

Past Fitness Challenge Posts:
Fitness Challenge Update: End of Week 2
Fitness Challenge Update: End of Week 1
30 Day Shred and Yoga Challenge

Baking Myths (or What My Mama Taught Me)

My mother is a baker. I will never get sick of saying that. Some people may love saying their mother is an accomplished lawyer, doctor, accountant, etc. I, however, am so incredibly proud to have a baker as a mother.

Pretty much everyone's mother bakes, but can yours make a bouquet of flowers out of icing? Does she have maraschino cherries on hand at all times? Did you grow up not knowing that Chips Ahoy cookies even existed until you were forced to eat that at a friend's house? I doubt it. My mother went to baking school and she taught me everything I know about baking. Which is why I would like call bullshit on a couple of baking myths.

If you eat cookie dough or cake batter you will get salmonella poisoning from the raw eggs

That is ridiculous. That is something some woman who tripled her chin eating cookie dough made up so other women would live in fear of partaking in one of the most joyous parts of baking - licking the spoon clean. I'm not saying you should make a habit of eating raw eggs or choose cookie dough as a meal (though I have), but there is absolutely no reason you cannot eat raw cookie dough and cake batter. I have been anxiously awaiting the beaters from my mother's KitchenAid mixer since I was a small (abeilt incredibly pudgy) child. I eat at least a half dozen cookies in raw dough every time I make a batch. If you can handle the calories, you can handle the eggs.

You must be 100% exact with all baking measurements or your baked good will explode and/or taste like dirt

Okay, I'll be honest, baking is much more exact than cooking. You don't see a whole lot of "dash of this" or "add salt to taste" in baking recipes. However, people act as if without measuring cups, bakeries would shut down, birthday parties would be cancelled due to lack of cake and everyone would just have to eat Oreos for the rest of their sad, treat-less lives. Let me tell you a secret- I bake without measuring cups all the time. And you know what? My mom approves. Do you know how many times I have misplaced the cursed 3/4 cup measuring cup? Or the whole damn ring of cups, which is meant to be convenient but really just results in the loss of all the tools instead of just one? I have eyed many a measurement and I have never had anything explode or disappoint the hungry audience. Of course, my mom taught me how to do that and I definitely kept her on speed dial for these occasions, but the point is- it can be done. 

You cannot bake without the proper tools

While you are going to need some basics, you definitely do not need top of the line stuff. I was spoiled with my mom's fancy baking tools, the ever-present 10 pound bag of flour, the freezer full of butter and above all, her KitchenAid Mixer (insert photo of me hugging that beautiful piece of machinery here). However, I grew up, moved out and had to work with what I had. In college, I whipped up a batch of chocolate chip cookies with some dollar store measuring cups, 1 wooden spoon, a cereal bowl and a Halloween punch bowl. They were delicious.

I also conquered Cookie Day 2010 in my tiny Argentine kitchen. I made 300 cookies in a kitchen no bigger than a closet (seriously, see my Apartment Tour video). I mixed those babies by hand. Here's a list of the tools I used:

• 1 shallow but wide salad bowl
• 2 deep but narrow plastic bowls, both of which cracked during the mixing process
• 2 soup spoons
• 1 teaspoon
• 1 plastic pitcher with vague measurement markings
• 2 flimsy baking sheets

This was the result:

300+ Cookies. 1 Day. Limited supplies.

So, in conclusion, I call bullshit on the aforementioned baking myths. My mama taught me well. However, there is one thing she was never able to teach me and that is how to properly decorate with icing. 

Sorry Mom, some things aren't hereditary and cannot be taught.

Anyone else love to bake? Or perhaps just love to eat the tasty treats other people make?

No Ladro en Español

For those of you who do not know, I have a dog named Padfoot. Yes, like the Harry Potter character. He's a very special dog, the kind that involves a lot of explanation. He has always been special but moving to Buenos Aires has only made him more so.

After being shaved he tried to run from my camera.

Let's take a look at Padfoot's issues before we moved.
Padfoot was abused, left in a garbage bag in the woods along with his brother and mother. He was rescued and I received him as a gift when he was almost 9 months old. I later found out that if dogs do not socialize with other dogs and humans before 8 months, they will be slightly off, forever. Curses.
So, my little Padfoot has some oddities, such as his long list of fears:

• Cameras. Flash or no flash, he will run away and hide. He knows the sound of a digital camera turning on, he recognizes all camera like objects. That is why, in the 3 1/2 years I have had him, I have taken so few photos. The only ways around this fear are to use a cell phone, webcam, zoom in from far away, or ambush him and hope to snap one photo before he sprints away.
• Basketballs, Kickballs and Ping Pong balls. Please note that tennis balls, footballs and soccer balls are not on this list, he seems fine with those. My best guess is that the fear has something to do with the sound the balls make when they bounce. If he hears them, even in the distance, he will go absolutely apeshit and try to get close enough to destroy them.
• His reflection. He simply cannot grasp the fact that it is himself. He seems to become filled with confusion driven anger at the sight of his reflection. He is infinitely perplexed by his inability to smell or touch this other dog.
• The Drummer Boy. No, not a person with drums, but the song. He truly hates the song. It is amazing that I can turn it on, watch him bark like crazy, then turn it off and see him calm down immediately.
• Unfamiliar exit strategies. Seeing as he was abandoned, his whole abandonment complex is not all that surprising. However, it is not all exits that bother him. In all the places he has stayed and lived, he has understood that if I exit through the front door, I will return. However, glass doors tend to freak him out. If I exit through anything bur the front door, he assumes he is being left, forever and ever, with no hope. He also will not accept being tied up outside a store or even our own house, for that too equals infinite abandonment in his mind.
• Rain. This is a common fear among dogs. What I find interesting is his need to be in tiny spaces during rain storms. I also like to be in small spaces when I am upset, it was something I realized when I was a kid. Padfoot mimics this and follows me from room to room, hiding in closets and under beds.
• Falling Snow. Note the "falling". He's totally fine with it on the ground. In fact, he loves snow on the ground. However, if it begins to fall, he will bark at it and jump in the air, attempting to snatch it all from the air. 

Padfoot loves sledding with Abby and I.

Padfoot moves to Buenos Aires

All those fears remain now that we are in Buenos Aires. However, I believe his ride beneath the plane shook him up a bit but more than anything- it's the language barrier.

Yep, I said it, it's the language barrier. In the United States, Padfoot ignored other dogs. He did not want to play with them and if they attacked him, he would lay down in defeat. However, ever since our arrival to Buenos Aires he has become incredibly aggressive towards local dogs. He nearly chokes himself at the site of them, lunging toward dogs 3 times his size, growling and barking viciously.

Padfoot walking alongside Francis, his US buddy.

 I thought it was the plane ride, until I took Padfoot on a walk with Francis, my friend Sara's dog, who is also from the United States. Padfoot was 100% normal. He basically ignored Francis and was totally calm. 

On two other occasions, Padfoot has encountered dogs on the streets and taken a liking to them. When I began talking to the owners, I realized immediately that they, too, were from the United States. 

So now, I imagine Padfoot frantically barking at other dogs and the translation being something like "WHERE AM I?! WHAT ARE YOU SAYING? WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!". I imagine him, walking the streets of Buenos Aires, in a state of pure panic. My poor, lost puppy. I hope that after 7 months he has at least learned how to tell the other dogs "No ladro en Español!" (I don't bark in Spanish).

Do you think dogs have a language?