2010 was my favorite year so far...

So were 1984, 1985, 1986, 1987, 1988, 1989, 1990, 1991, 1992, 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009. (Wow--it took longer to type all of those than I expected.) I have a feeling 2011 will shape up to be my favorite, too.

Here is a list of things that changed in 2010:

-I now have a bicep vein (I am sorry if you are sick of hearing about this, but it was a big moment for me). I wasn't happy about this at first, but it is funny how things begin to grow on you (no pun intended). Now, if it starts to disappear, I tell Tom that I need to "feel more jacked." Then usually when I start to "feel more jacked," I tell Tom that I "feel too jacked." It's an endless cycle, really...


-I got ABD (All But Dissertation) status for my PhD in psychology. The end is in sight. Soon I will put that PhD to good use as a professional dancer. It sounds like I'm joking, but I'm actually very serious. I am very excited about what 2011 will bring in terms of dancology.

-I became an aunt, and I will be a double aunt in 2011!!! I am also happy to report that being around a baby didn't set off any desires to have a baby of my own. While I was thrilled to hold my little niece, I was also thrilled to hand her right back to her mom.

My niece Hannah

My nephew-to-be (in Lindsey's belly) and his sonogram

-My hair grew a lot longer. This is only noteworthy because of its symbolism. Let me explain... I have been obsessing about my hair growing for years. I would count every millimeter and get a little nauseous every time I got a haircut. In 2010, my hair spent 90% of its time either in a bun or attempting to somehow be cute after having been in a bun all morning. One day I realized that my hair was all of the sudden so long! As soon as I stopped obsessing over it, it happened! Take that as you will... I know... you are probably blown away by my wisdom right now... 

-My right shoulder now seems to be half an inch lower than my left shoulder thanks to carrying around my "Ellen Bag" all day. I will be looking into an "Ellen Backpack" for 2011. If there is anything more embarrassing than an "Ellen Bag," it's an "Ellen Backpack." What can I say? I am sacrificing for my art...

-Thanks to the creaking overgrown tree above our driveway prompting Patrick to move the contents of the garage to the little room in our basement that we don't like to talk about (see below), I can now park my car in the garage! This has literally changed my life. 

-Instead of one pair of jeans, Patrick now has two. Thank you, Santa. This is very big news. No need to tell you how many pairs I have... let's just say more than two...

Here is a list of the things that didn't changed in 2010:

 
-The "to-do list" associated with finishing the move-in process to our house. Including (but not limited to): the use of Patrick's old futon as our living room couch, the pile of sticks and branches in our backyard that will be turned into mulch any day now, the landscaping that will also be done any day now to make use of the aforementioned mulch, cleaning out the junk room in our basement that we conveniently skip when giving tours of our house because "we don't like to talk about it."

-My cell phone. It is still going strong, especially now that I added a layer of duct tape to the back.

-The deliciousness of our wedding cake! It is tradition to freeze the top tier of your wedding cake and eat it on your 1-year anniversary for good luck. My aunt was very sweet to freeze it for us in industrial strength tupperware so not an morsel of air could taint it. Naturally, Patrick and I forgot about it. Luckily, my aunt gave it to us for Christmas so we could salvage any good luck that was left in it. I was prepared to take a bite and promptly run to the bathroom to spit it out, but it was delicious! 

Reliving the moment.

Getting our wedding cake!

-I am still a vegetarian. Don't feel sorry for me, though. I get to eat so much cheese and peanut butter! 

-My love of cute mini things. I am excited to be getting my first mini nephew (courtesy of my sister Lindsey) so that I could buy him his first pair of cute mini jeans!  

Lindsey, don't be mad at me for posting this picture. Yes, we look like crap, but the jeans were just too cute not to post...

Me and my buddy...

Me and my buddy

Chances are that if you see me out and about, I am accompanied by my "Ellen Bag" and my buddy Erin. She is my buddy because she is more than just my friend. She is a friend with benefits, but not in the way you are thinking. I have calculated that I am approximately a 30% stronger and better dancer because of her.

We both have the same goal to become better dancers, and we do this together. Psychologists call the increase in performance because of the presence of another person social facilitation. Erin is my social facilitator. We carpool together, we do our personal training sessions together, we help each other with our mental workouts, we go see shows together, we review choreography together, we complain to each other, we encourage each other, and the list goes on and on....
 

If I want to sleep in and skip a morning training session, I don't because I know Erin will be there improving, and I will feel behind. If trainer Tom hands Erin a heavier weight than me, I kindly ask him for the heavier one and pretend that I am not about to fall over with it. If I am feeling frustrated, I vent to Erin while she nods her head until I start to realize how ridiculous I sound.

It would be very difficult, if not impossible, to do what I do without my buddy. I hope that you have a buddy, too. The best things in life are usually really freaking hard to achieve, and the road to them is usually filled with blood, sweat, tears, disappointment, frustration, anxiety... I can't imagine having to persevere through all of that to get to the good stuff without my social facilitator and wine and my husband Patrick, of course. Patrick is also a friend with benefits, but in the way you were thinking...     

Just a quick thought...

Few things in this world make me angrier than when I am vacuuming and the plug falls out of the outlet. It's a good thing that I rarely vacuum. That's it for today... 

...Oh, wait!!! Patrick and I are Godparents*!!! Here is our first pic with Hannah Banana after finding out. We love her. She is the ultimate "cute mini thing."

*(not technically until the Baptism, but close enough)

While I'm on the subject, look how tiny and cute her mini fingers are!!!

Those fingernails will be getting lots of manicures with Aunt Ellen.

My cute mini flu

Yesterday I got a flu shot. Today I woke up with a cute mini flu.

I had a sudden stilt of bravery, so I thought I should take advantage of it by getting a flu shot. I need to get my flu shots on a whim, otherwise they won't happen. In the past I have attempted to plan them in advance, consequently initiating the launch sequence of my nervousness. My thought process usually goes something like this:

"I think I can do this!" followed by, "Am I really doing this?" followed by, "I think I could still get out of this...." When I give myself less time to go through these steps, it is usually too late to get out of it. Yesterday, by the time I got to "I think I can still get out of this," I was sitting in the doctor's office with the nurse, who was wiping down the point of entry. Don't get me wrong, I still considered getting up and leaving, but I calculated that the embarrassment would be slightly worse than the needle prick.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath (only in, then I held my breath the rest of the time), gripped onto the sides of the chair for dear life, and waited for my impending doom.............(pause for the big moment)..............Oh! That wasn't bad at all!

This is what happens EVERY time. You would think that I would just remember that it is not that bad and skip the agony, but then I would not be the Ellen that I am.

Plus, the best part is that I woke up this morning with a cute mini version of the flu that my immune system gets to work on! Now I can breathe a sigh of relief... until next year...

My "Ellen Bag"

If you happen to run into me on the street, you are likely to see me carrying my "Ellen Bag" filled with enough clothing and materials to last for a week vacation. It is called my "Ellen Bag" because it is a bag, and it has my name monogrammed on the side in pink letters. Yes, I know that I am not in the 3rd grade, but if it didn't have my name on it, it would just be my "bag." That is much less exciting.

Anyways, my "Ellen Bag" is heaviest on Wednesdays because it has to get me through 4 wardrobe changes (not including P.J.'s)...

Outfit #1: I begin the day in my workout clothes for my personal training session. This usually consists of whatever I can find the fastest in the morning. When I wake up, I like to ease into the day with about 30 minutes of bagel/coffee/internet time and 30 minutes of getting ready time. This usually turns into about 57 minutes of bagel/coffee/internet time and about 3 minutes of getting ready time, so I have to make the best of those 3 minutes. This means that I am typically still pretty disheveled by the time I get to Tom. Luckily, my "Ellen Bag" comes to the rescue for my next wardrobe change.

Outfit #2: After my training session with Tom, I heave myself over to the elevator up the stairs to the 3rd floor for class. Next, I put on my attire for ballet and jazz class. Luckily, these articles don't take up very much valuable space in my "Ellen Bag." I could basically fold my dance outfits into a ball with about a 2-inch diameter. Oh, I almost forgot! This is the part of my day where my hair gel has its big moment.

Outfit #3: As soon as class is over, I tote my "Ellen Bag" with me into the bathroom and emerge as "Psychologist Ellen!". Now in my "real person clothes," I race to the elevator stairs, trot (yes, literally trot... it is difficult to run with my "Ellen bag") out of the building and down Olive Blvd to the parking garage. I jump in my car and make my way to Saint Louis University.

Outfit #4: Once I am finished with my "ologist" duties for the day, I hop back in my car and make my way to the studio where I teach. Once there, my "Ellen Bag" and I make our way to the back through a very narrow hallway lined with observing parents, taking care not to knock them with my bag (this is often unsuccessful). When I finally get to the bathroom, I change into my 4th and final outfit of the day, my teacher clothes. This is similar to Outfit #2, but less polished and more covered up.

After a long day with many wardrobe changes and multiple deodorant applications, I finally make it home at 10 pm. I empty the contents of my "Ellen Bag" onto the living room floor into the laundry hamper and grab a glass of wine. The End.

Random uninteresting facts about me...

I usually have at least 3 ponytail holders in my hair at a time. I basically like to give myself a face lift for class.

The "couch" in our family room is the futon that Patrick has had since Freshman year of college. We've traded the purple velvet cover for a more neutral taupe. I know... that's pretty embarrassing...

My forehead about 1 inch higher than it is naturally

 

Louise enjoying the neutral futon



I usually only fill up the gas tank about 3/4 of the way because I get bored.

My biggest fear is dropping my keys down the crack of the opening of an elevator. I grip my keys very tightly whenever I enter or exit.

I like that my birthday numbers (3/9/84) are all multiples of 3 when you add the 8 and 4 of 84 to get 12.

I eavesdrop and join in on other people's conversations all the time. I forget that eavesdropping is rude. I am not trying to be rude, I just like to talk to people. You have to start somewhere, so I tend to start in the middle of other people's conversations.

I don't even consider buying something unless it is at least 50% off. Anything less than that equals "I could still find it cheaper at T.J. Maxx." The thrill is in the hunt. Even if I were super rich, I would still be a bargain shopper.

I still have an old flip cell phone. Now it is missing its back. I think people feel sorry for me when they see it. No need. I pretty much just like to dial and text.

Me on my flip phone, not realizing how lame I look...

I used to hate high-fives, and now I love them. Patrick has always loved them, so I used to pretend that I liked them. When he would reach his hand up for one, I would not leave him hanging, but my heart wasn't in it. One day I said, "I choose not to high-five anymore." He was disappointed, but we moved past it. One day I started liking them. This is a fairly recent development. I have no explanation for the sudden change.