Last Thursday I managed to drag my butt out of bed to meet my friend and fellow Weebly, Jess, for a sunrise yoga class. I set the alarm, quickly changed from pj's to stretchy pants (the best kind of wardrobe transition, amirite?) and hopped on the bus with the sun still sleeping. As the bus doors began to close, a disheveled woman in her mid to late forties rapped on the window.

To put it lightly--She was a bit of a spectacle to watch.  For imagination sake, I'll try to be descriptive, despite the visually uncomfortable nature of my brief time with her. She sat up front, right behind the driver who kindly let her ride without paying fare (as she had immediately slurred/yelped that she had no money and people "keep stealing my wallet!"). She proclaimed that she needed to get to the Greyhound station, though never included a reason why. The driver gently explained where his route would take her and she seemed satisfied that was close enough. She did not sit still for a moment, squirming while spraying her whole body, flip-flop clad feet included, with cheap perfume. She squirmed while brushing her half bleached blonde hair, cleaning the bristles beforehand but placing the clump of lost hairs pulled out of the brush into one of her 2 small bags. She sat shaky handed-ly reapplying deep, dark, crooked, unflattering eye makeup and lipstick. She sat and twitched, tongue wagging awkwardly outside her mouth a number of times.

I tell you all of this because when, in a candle lit, cozy yoga studio, our instructor encouraged us to set our intention for class, immediately this potentially homeless addict (but certainly un-well, either way) woman came to my mind. I didn't know her name or any real truth about her, but for some reason I deeply wished to send any positive energy my practice created directly to her. So I called her Blondie, which was a term of endearment used to refer to my wonderful little (and naturally blonde haired) sister many moons ago. I thought, this woman had a grandfather somewhere, maybe once upon a time. She has or had a mom. She may even have a wonderful little sister, just like me. She feels sadness, just like me. She experiences joy and laughter, fear and pain, just like me. Someone, at sometime, had loved her (and hopefully, still does).

And this, for whatever reason, simultaneously broke my heart for the apparent, jarring differences between how our lives are playing out and also opened it up to how we are still, somehow, equals.

So I flowed for Blondie. I held plank more strongly, for Blondie. I tightened my core and focused my mind to balance in bird of paradise (as best I could!) for Blondie. I dedicated my practice to her because if we cannot learn to at least send love and light to one another--to friends, to family, to struggling strangers on buses--then we are not holding up a big part of the human bargain.  The part that says we get to be here, together, no matter how vast our differences may seem.

Let's try not to forget the together, you know?

Namaste,

Trish

This weekend my dear friend Jenny celebrated her shop, Heritage Row's, 3rd birthday! In honor of this exciting and well deserved accomplishment, TGL has paired with my favorite boutique for a fun little giveaway.

To win these goodies, simply give Heritage Row a "Like" on Facebook and wish them a Happy Birthday in the comments section below!

Big thanks to my friend and coworker, Natalie, for her great modeling skills! The bag looked perfect with her bold, blue blouse :)

Thunderous rain attempted to ruin a trip up to Tahoe this past weekend for a 30th birthday celebration, keeping our crew of 16 (and 3 dogs!) snuggled indoors, enjoying the cloudy views through the windows for two nights.

What the weather did not realize, however, is that we were actually quite pleased to be "trapped" inside a jungle themed house with one another...

A little rain can't stop the fun, right fellas?!

There ain't nothing sad about hanging in a house with faces like this...

And this....

San Francisco has truly whacky weather. At least, that's how it feels in my solid-4-seasons-a-year east coast bred brain. Around this time each year, the sun decides to grace us a little more strongly with its presence, bringing along an air of "Indian Summer" for a very few short weeks. Basically, while folks back home are celebrating the return of light jackets, hooded sweatshirts, leggings and boots, I have worn a dress or a skirt 10/14 days for the first time in months here (although always still carrying a light sweater--that is SF living lesson #1). To be honest, I miss east coast summers and falls. But to be even more honest, I do not miss the winters. So this is the trade off I've signed up for: No extreme summer or fall, but at super livable, snow-less (ugh, snow, yuck!) winter.

That being said, I decided to use my turn hosting book club (we read Lean In, by Sheryl Sandburg) to whip up some very "fall" themed treats: Apple Cinnamon Butternut Squash Soup, Pumpkin Pecan Muffins and the definite fan favorite--Pumpkin Pizza.

Because the pizza turned out so awesome, I wanted to share the recipe with you here:

You'll need...

Canola oil, for frying sage leaves
10 fresh sage leaves

1 cup pumpkin puree
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Salt and black pepper, to taste
2 cups shredded Gouda or Gruyere cheese (note: I chose apple wood smoked versions of both! You can never have too much cheese, amirite?)

Mix together pumpkin puree, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Spread pumpkin mixture evenly over pizza dough. Top with cheeses. (note: I usually pop my pizza crust in for about 8 minutes beforehand, to get it a bit pre-cooked before schmearing with toppings. I also am a HUGE fan of my pizza stone from The Pampered Chef.)

Bake for 10-15 minutes or until pizza crust is golden and cheese is melted.

Lightly fry sage leaves in a small pan. (note: those suckers crisp up FAST, so don't walk away from them!)

Remove the pizza from the oven and place crispy sage leaves on top.

Enjoy a bit of fall in your tummy, no mater what season your city reflects :)

In Gratitude,

Trish

Last week as my NYC co-worker, Katie, and I were exiting Weebly HQ here in San Francisco I happened to look down in time to see a piece of rather encouraging litter on the sidewalk ...

"Be awesome."

Well OK, I can try!, I thought.

As the mild tree hugger that I am, I then stooped to pick up the litter for disposal in the nearest trash bin and couldn't resist unfolding the note before pitching it.

To my absolute squealing delight (you can ask Katie--definitely squealed) I found the note addressed to....

Trish!!

The note itself makes no sense as it pertains to a design firm on my block, but holy heck! What are the chances?!

Seriously, how many Tricias/Trishes do you know? It's not an odd or unique name, per say, but it's definitely not all that common in my humble experience.

So, in conclusion, it's basically like the Universe physically stopped me in my tracks to simply say Hi Trish--Be awesome.

(no? I'm reaching?)

Whatever. I loved this.

(And thank you, Katie, for also being delighted for me).

In Gratitude,

Trish

Is it socially acceptable to watch this, yet?

It was our second to last day in Bondi, Australia and B and I were exploring a few shops in our hostess' lovely sea side neighborhood; Me on the hunt for a last minute souvenir, B patiently carrying our beach gear in tow. Upon entering a small gifts boutique, I found a darling set of painted ceramic drawers within a blue wooden frame. I picked it up to examine closer, delighted at the find, and immediately gasped as I tilted the piece just a little...too...far...watching in horror as the middle drawer slid out of its frame, shattering to bits on the wood floor below.

I had been struggling against rising anxious thoughts all day (that did not seem to stem from any particular cause because, duh, I was on vacation after all), and this moment sent me utterly swirling. As I stooped to clean up the mess, fighting back tears while profusely apologizing to the shop owner, B gently took my shaking hand (sensing my irrational panic setting in big time) and said "Trish. It's OK. We can fix this...".  I purchased the now slightly imperfect piece out of clumsy guilt and we left for the beach. Where, for the next few hours, I sat next to my man under the Aussie sun, trying to slow down my thoughts and my heart rate.

I briefly touched on my anxiety a few months ago and to be honest, I don't want to cloud this post with a plethora of musings and introspections on that subject. I've got them, that's for sure! And I plan on revisiting the topic someday when it feels right. But for now, I mostly want to use this little story to share some really exciting news with you all.

Are you ready? Here it comes...

Last weekend B thoughtfully surprised me with a replacement piece for my souvenir--a tiny, handmade, ceramic drawer made by an artist he sought out to recreate it.

Swoon.

And because this is simply the type of man he is...because we have come to care for one another in ways that are so authentic, open, nuturing and genuinely "us"...because we are willing and able to hold space for each other in all our individually quirky and weird ways, we have decided to say goodbye to our days of long distance love and officially move in together. Or more specifically, B has bravely decided to pack up his life in Philadelphia to start a new chapter with me, here, in San Francisco!

{HUGE smile on my face just typing that}

With a change like this happening in just a few weeks, I am hyper aware my anxiety could make a mean attempt to get the best of me. I know that I have a tendency to remember less than sunny periods of my life and fearfully apply them to present day scenes; that I sometimes swim in a sea of regrets, when I should barely even be wading in them. I know the worry filled what if? game all too well, having played it so often over the years that my personal deck of self-doubt questions has begun to have a worn, vintage look. When it is no longer legible, I will likely, subconsciously, replace it with a fresh stack.

But here's the bit of truth that is helping me stay so clearheaded and elated about this big news...the truth that I'll carry with me from now until the day we unpack the last box:

Yes, it would be foolish to think there won't ever be trying times, or that a new set of challenges won't crop up once we shack up (sharing my studio apartment for the time being is basically going from long distance, to no distance!). But it would be equally, if not more, foolish to let the inevitable possibilities of hiccups stop me from being excited about this; from being so, so appreciative of him and our partnership. Something I did not expect (a slightly random reunion with an old high school crush) turned into something incredibly wonderful. So I can choose to either let fear and anxiety dictate my life, my choices and my happiness, or I can choose to just enjoy this process; to just enjoy each other as it all unfolds.

And enjoy is precisely what I plan to do.

The mildly amusing part about the replacement drawer that I would be remiss not to mention is that the measurements are actually slightly off (it's OK, babe!). Basically, it's not a perfect fit. And yet for me, it is pretty damn perfect. It is beautiful in both its hand painted, unique charm as well as what it stands for. The gesture of love and support it carries in its existence is one that I hope to continue exchanging regularly, especially as we begin our next grand adventure together.

Trusting, appreciating and enjoying.

I am one lucky girl, don't you think?

In Fearless Gratitude,

Trish