Dear 18, Love 28 | Published at 38

A letter written to myself at 18 on/around my 28th birthday, discovered mere weeks before my 38th birthday. All still so very relevant. 

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Dear Nat—

Quit thinking you must have short hair because you have a long face. You will not look like a horse with long hair, I promise. Also. Wear shorts. You live in Arizona and it’s hot. You do not have unsightly legs, you’re just being ridiculous and clichéd with your needless body image issues.

So. Now that the trivial matters are out of the way.

Your dad always said he pitied those who never got past talking about the glory days of high school—because life is supposed to get better after high school. And I can promise you that it does. You were in a hurry to get out, and that was the right choice. Ten years after you graduate, you’re in a life more fabulous than you ever fathomed possible or thought you deserved.

Nat. To make a very long story short—you’re a rock star. You always have been, you simply let insecurity and fear own too much of your heart and your interactions with others. Quit that soon, because you’ll lose years of your life driving people away until you figure out how to both treat and communicate with them in the spirit of sensitivity and respect. You’re not a nasty person, but let’s be honest—sometimes you’re not a real joy to be around either. Never substitute being clever for being kind. Keep plugging away at self-improvement, you’ll get there. Once you turn the corner and figure out how to love yourself, the number of incredible people in your life will improve exponentially. With years of practice, you’ll transform yourself into a truly sensitive, thoughtful, loyal friend. This will become one of your defining characteristics and people respect this about you.

You’ll learn resiliency as you encounter professional, social, romantic, and spiritual setbacks. You’ll learn to find the silver lining. Don’t focus so much on what’s wrong all the time; find the right and chase after it. In good news, there isn’t true regret, tragedy, or heartbreak looming on the horizon—just the continual heat felt from being in the refiner’s fire. Nat—it’s nothing you can’t handle, so don’t be so afraid. There’s no need to fear life; embrace it.

You’ll learn to love yourself by being completely alone. And alone doesn’t mean lonely dear girl—there’s a key difference. Alone means far from home, able to navigate life with a competence beyond your years. Instead of constantly checking your phone waiting for it to ring, you’ll gleefully check the increasing balance of your savings account and feel like you’ve really made it in the world. You’ll travel… a lot. Yes, because you want to, but also because you can. You learn to make things happen instead of waiting for them to happen to you.

The only true life regret you have at 28 is that you didn’t figure these things out earlier on. But it’s okay; you’d be a different person today if you’d figured it out sooner. And truth be told, you wouldn’t trade the today version of you for a different one. (You worked hard to smooth out all those rough edges!)

And that’s not just a silver lining, but a platinum one.

thirty

I started writing the night before my 30th and lost patience with the inability to express myself.  I don't want to let what I did put together get lost in the shuffle of files on my Desktop, so thanks Blogger (new redesign, what?!) for being the journal I basically quit write in on occasion.  The thoughts of my mind will never truly be finished, so here's the snapshot on the last day of 29.

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It’s not often I feel unable to express the thoughts and feelings and connecting threads of my heart and mind and gut. Tonight, the last night of my twenties, I feel inadequate at the task of compiling my feelings and taking a meaningful stab at portraying the goodness and wonder and un-believability of my life on the eve of my dive into the 30+ age bracket.

For as organized as I am, I’ve never been a long-term planner. I never had a life plan with milestones set by age which has probably allowed me to love the life I’ve been given and the route it took me to get here. The life I live is an accumulation of small scale goals, personal challenges, and blessings from above so rich in abundance that I still can’t quite believe this is my life.

Where my last year has been rife with change of the temporal variety, the last decade has been fraught with self-perpetuated personal change. While I’m fundamentally the same flesh and blood, I hardly recognize the girl I was ten years ago. I've worked really, really hard at refining who I am. I joke with my oldest friends, congratulating them on their high return on investment. Theirs was a long-term gamble whose dividends were hardly worth mentioning in those early years. 

My 20's taught me resiliency. Flexibility. Faith. I'm proud of who I've become while recognizing the difficult conversations, the hard inward looks and the patience it took to become a better version of me. The coolest (slash scariest) part is that the process is never really finished. What will I learn in the next ten years?

The first day of my 30th year is welcome; I can’t wait to see what happens next.

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I will forever mourn the fact I didn't write a 29th birthday letter. I'll blame the packing my Boston life away for that one, but I regret not writing deeply.
Turning 28
Turning 27

Henry Rex

Days and days went by where every incoming text anyone received was asked the question, "Is it the baby?" December 22nd, the due date for our first sweet nephew came and went, as did the 23rd. And the 24th. And the 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th, and 29th. Finally, scheduled for induction, our sweet baby Henry Rex was born on the 30th, six hours after Kendall went on the drugs.



Of course Mallory and I gave him his first self portrait. We somehow managed to get to the hospital five times, but considering the good spirits of his parents Kendall & Josh, we were so happy to be there.

And now, in late breaking news, my sister Alaina + hubs Brad have discovered they too will add a boy to our mix in May. I guess the universe is righting itself. And really I'm so so happy to be here in Utah for this special time.

A (Belated) Birthday Letter

Happy Birthday Nat.

You turned 28 a few weeks ago, I know you know, you were there. Now you’re an even age in a prime year and for some reason we both like the sound of that. It feels monumental. So it stands to reason that 28 in 2011 will be a good one. Make it happen!

This year has been a long one, longer than others in recent memory. Weeks were weeks and months were months. You finished the year the way you started—one routine day after another. One foot in front of another. One crested wave at a time. You worked a lot this year and it wasn’t always clean or easy—in fact it was rather grueling and uneasy at times as you dealt with some fairly abnormal and uncomfortable situations. But now you’re a rockstar at what you do and you wouldn’t trade what you learned professionally (both project and personnel wise) this year. You’ve graduated to the majors. Congrats!

This was the year you might have become a platinum flyer if you stuck to one airline instead of two or three. Salt Lake, New York (x3), Portland, Colorado Springs, Detroit, New York, Montreal, Kansas City, New Hampshire, Amsterdam, Belgium, Spain, Portugal, Gibraltar, Salt Lake, Portland, Detroit, Panama, New York, Portland, Salt Lake. You finally figured out the art of packing (Method: pick a color palette and then create a cohesive line), and more importantly, the art of unpacking. (Method: do it the second you walk in the door. No excuses.) And to think – you planned twice as many trips as this in your head.

You also learned the nerdy joy of saving. This, plus the fact you sometimes buy your cheese at the counter has certified you as an adult.

All kidding aside, you are an adult, and you’ve learned to serve like one this year. Serving God has become part of your daily routine and it’s been the greatest blessing of the year. It’s easier to keep perspective on what’s important and what’s not when you’re anxiously engaged in a good and righteous cause. The minutia of life’s tiny injustices become moot when you remember that myopic vision keeps your line of sight narrow.

This is the lesson you should remember from year twenty-seven. Keep expanding your peripheral vision and look out for others and you’ll be alright.

You have been, are, and will no doubt continue to be abnormally blessed. Keep focusing on the “haves” instead of the “have nots.” Drink a little more water. Wear heels more often. Go and do and then don’t regret. Be a better visiting teacher. Don’t feel anxious thinking you should feel guilty for enjoying spending time alone. Use 4 words when you’d rather use 13. Laugh more. Move your car on street sweeping day and avoid the $50 tickets. Keep listening (loudly) to Country music—it still makes you believe in love.

Above all else, know that I love you. The realization has been the greatest gift of this Late-20’s stage. Please regift to 29.

Love,
Nat

Celebrate good times

28 is hardly an extraordinary age to be turning, right? I mean, it's just kind of a filler year on the everclosermarchto30. Nonetheless, how thrilled and outright surprised I was that the casual celebrating of 28 are some of my favorite yet.



Lunch with my girlfriends. Dinner and trivia with some boyfriends and the world's-best-roommate. A lot of smiles and laughter and yellow-and-black checked-shirt-wearing.

Last year, I wrote a capstone letter to myself on 27th eve. I may be two days late, but I think I'd like a follow-up. But first I'm still working on my Christmas card. Thanks for the addresses if you've sent them. Prepare to receive them next week.

I made the following comment on Facebook yesterday, and I stand firmly behind it.
I know the greatest people in the world. Thanks for making an insignificant birthday year significant!

Ebony and Ivory

Once upon a time, we all went to BYU. Now the first of us turned 30 and we celebrated at an all-out all-white (hold the irony) party in NYC.

Happy Birthday Jam. I think 30 is going to be a banner year for you.

Also? The growth spurt that left me nearly six feet tall has ended everywhere except my arms. They're now dragging on the floor when I walk. But the silver lining? I am one excellent dancer.

And I always raise the roof.

Tacky at 27

Despite my protestations, Brenda really wanted to throw me a birthday party this year. I've had some pretty stinking memorable birthdays (the red dress at 25, and the disco skate-a-thon as my SLC send-off), but I'm pretty sure this was my favorite party yet. There's something to be said for someone else doing all the work!

I love December, you all are very well aware. So B turned my birthday into a tacky holiday-themed event. Having thrown my ugly sweater gem away when I left SLC, I was on the hunt for a new one. Instead, I stumbled upon this tacky gold sequined disco top. How could I turn it down? I was like a cat distracted by shiny things all night. But seriously, the food was incredible (hot cocoa, fudge, cookies, rice krispy(!) wreaths, candy, soda, cheeseball, shrimp(!!!)), the mood festive, and the company fantastic.

If you want to see me awkward, put me in a situation in front of people where I'm not quite sure what's going to happen. (I'm too much of a planner to love too much of a surprise!) The awkwardness is exponentialized when a "very special number" is announced, and you're pretty sure the loosest dude cannon in the tri-state area is going to give you a "very special dance." Don't worry, he just took his pants off as a special Christmas treat.

So all in all, a wonderful evening. Relatively low key (but maybe that's because I just had to show up?) but a perfect end to another year, another birthday, and another Boston holiday season.

Heading home tomorrow! Woot.

Like a Kelly Clarkson song

Do you want to know what I've been doing the last week? Well, the answer is basically trying to breathe. I've had the Head Cold of Horror^TM that's threatened my very desire to stay alive and kicking. Now let me compare this cold to a Kelly Clarkson "I don't need you fool, I'm on my own now" anthem. The songs hit hard and fast from the opening measure, right? And the bridge endures two key changes and some slamming guitar solos and then pounds out to the closing notes? Yah, that's what's happening with my face. And the bridge happened to hit on my birthday. Holler!

As a lil birthday treat to myself, instead of working (sick) from home, I just didn't work at all. A legitimate sick day. I've only taken one day in the last 20 months, and that was for cosmetic surgery. That's right, only one day, and I've been pretty sick this year; I'm just reluctant to spend my PTO time not in a foreign country. I'm nothing if not resiliant.

So I was home in bed, profusely weeping from both my left eye and nose for the majority of the day I was awake. In the brief interludes between naps, I was gifted with the kindest emails, facebook posts, texts, and singing phone calls. If there's ever a day to be home, it's a day when all you hear is nice things about yourself. In between the Dayquil, Nyquil, and *menthol nasal spray.

Not wanting the day to be a complete waste, hauled myself out of bed and into the shower to go out to eat with my girls still in Boston. What a lovely evening we had--marred only by the fact our waiter could not keep a comment to himself. Not a photo exists of me with a whole face, but that's fine, that left side has given me nothing but trouble this last week. I'd cut it off if I had the 3D chance. Gives a whole new meaning to the line, "Since you been gone, I can breathe for the first time," eh?
* Menthol nasal spray represents both the absolute best and worst of times. On the "best" side of the coin, 3 sprays in each nostril and you go from plugged up to breathingly clear in 30 seconds and lasts for 10 hours. (True story.) On the flip "worst" side, any kind of nasal spray (if used properly) is like jumping into a pool without your nose plugged--and the menthol makes it cold and tingly. I read the directions on the bottle last night and it said not to use longer than 3 days, or the spray could be exasperbating the problem. I'm pretty torn here. Frankly nasal spray, my December and life would suck without you, but perhaps it's time for me to breakaway.

A Birthday Letter

Happy Birthday self, you’re another year older.

Twenty-seven.

You’re a year older, but are you wiser too? Did you make the most of 26? Are you a better person coming out on the other side?

It’s okay to admit that 26 was a bit of a rocky year; no beach is composed completely of sand. There were times of intense heartbreak and crippling letdown, but you lived to tell about it, didn’t you? And not only is your heart still beating, but it’s stronger and more aware.

This was the year the training wheels came off and no one was holding on to the back of your seat to keep it upright. Alone and far from home, this was the year you fully created a new home. More people moved out of your life than in, but what of it? You’ve managed to irrevocably knot your heart strings to those who’ve earned a place there. They’re better people for it. You’re better for it.

All those things you love about yourself? People love those about you too. And the rough spots? Well, people may see those too, but you’re your own harshest critic Nat. You know that, now remember it in year twenty-seven.

Surely there are moments in the last year you wish you could take back, but because you can’t go back and change it, there’s no use feeling regret or disappointment. Move on and use historical data to project future outcomes. A year just past. Don’t let it be in vain.

Riding on your own has also allowed you to experience breathtaking views. Moments so grand your breath was taken completely away and in its place settled a general feeling of rightness. Not only celestial experiences surrounded by loved ones, but also irreplaceable moments steeped in the silence of independence. This is the year you learned to fully love and appreciate you. That gift is impossible to purchase or give, but is earned through struggle and perseverance. If the rocky roads were payments credited toward this ultimate treasure, they’re roads worth taking again, aren’t they?

This is the lesson you should remember from year twenty-six.

On the last night of your twenty-sixth year, you open a card from your grandparents. “We applaud your success and think you are brave,” it says. Your heart warms not only because you feel the collective support of those who’ve had a hand in forming the mold, but also because for the first time ever, you believe it too.

And that’s something you feel good about. A worthwhile year. May this next year be as good as the last.

Love,
Natalie

He never got a son...

...which is probably a good thing since chances are he wouldn't have gone along for this special Wood/Wms family photo sing-along. We love you Dad! Happy Birthday!!

No one loves December as much as I do

And now, a break from your regularly scheduled cruise recaps....

If I don't blog about the first week in December this very second, I'll never do it at all. I love December. Every. single. thing. about. it. It also helps that I have a holiday birthday -- I love that too. What else to love this December? The parents, Kendall, and Mallory came to visit. Hel-LO fun.

We did what we do best on vacation -- shop and eat. And then I took them to do what I love best to do. The girls thugged it up Celtics-style. My Dad was true to his homeland and rooted for the Blazers. Don't worry, they still lost.

Just like that, the family was gone, and it's the 8th day of December. And all rejoiced with pumpkin pie, cheeseball, and the glory of seeing a sequined, argyle sweatshirt. (Lemme know if you want to borrow.) The white elephant gift exchange was a success; and a rousing rendition of "All I Want for Christmas" performed. Many, many thanks to all the emails, calls, texts, e-cards, f-book shout-outs, twitters, and in-person visits.

Now come over for some pie and cheeseball, there's more left than Linda or I could possibly consume.

PS -- get used to seeing these photo spreads. Picasa upgraded their collage spread, and photos just got oh so much easier to display. Try one, you'll get hooked.

Turning the Quarter

Warning: This is going to be a long blog. Like a quarter of a century-long blog.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all those who called, emailed, facebooked, commented, sang, texted, visited, or used any other means of wishing me a happy birthday. Birthdays just get better every year! It's becoming rather traditional on the morning of December 9th to ponder how on earth next year's birthday could be any better. I continue to be blown away.

As mentioned last week, fourteen of us girl friends were set to attend the Urban Nutcracker in the Back Bay. The show mixed ballet, flamanco, tap, jazz, swing, stomp, etc. to the Nutcracker storyline and music--we had a fun time kicking off the holiday season.

Let's get right to the goods, shall we? Photos.

While I was in the Nutcracker, I missed phone calls. SO many phone calls. In fact, I don't think my phone has ever received so many calls in one day. Scratch that, I don't have to wonder, I'm sure of the fact. Within minutes of each other my Oregon family (Mom/Dad) and my Utah family (Aunt Cheri/Uncle Randy/Rachel/Kendall) called and sang Happy Birthday, immediately followed by our family birthday song. The format of the call was exactly the same and I was shocked by the proximity of the calls. Alaina, Erica, Mallory and my oldest brother/cousin Corey called to wish me a happy day. An email from my oldest sister/cousin Mary and my seven "siblings" all checked in. A missed call from G&G in Salt Lake and a card from my Gma Wms at home completed the family well-wishing. I definitely felt the family love on Saturday.

Due to scheduling conflicts, I spent the majority of the afternoon and evening alone, getting ready for our Holiday Party/25th Bash. I'd just picked up my birthday dinner from Joe's (if I had to eat alone I was at least going to do it in style!) and had just sat down to put my feet up and take a breather when a number I didn't have in my phone rang. I'm not going to lie, I was feeling a little lonely at the moment.

I picked up the phone and low and behold... a choir of angels started singing--surprise surprise, it was a call from most of my out-of-state besties, conferencing in from around the country. Joe, Jamar, Nate, Krista, Nici, Jason, Dave, and Laura popped in and out of the 20-minute call. I really just sat there shocked and in quasi-denial that it was actually happening. To get everyone on one call at the same time was a logistical and engineering feat!--and as I told them, one of my favorite moments of the day.

I had the energy to finish the prep work for the party, got myself gussied up, and enjoyed the festivities of the evening.

Last year I wore traditional 70's pantsuit for my birthday. This year, I may have overdressed myself just a little, but Julie told me I'd never regret wearing the dress on my 25th. She's right! I didn't... and I was hap-hap-happy to wear my Christmas pin on it.

My roommate Toni made this gorgeous three-layer carrot cake. I got all the candles on the first blow--hope my wish comes true! They made me give a speech afterward; I kind of wish I had the speech on video; I'm pretty sure at least six people shed tears.

And somehow, I was photo-ed without elbows yet again.

Once upon a birthday time (two years ago), two little angels sang me a song. I had mentioned this to Julie quite some time ago who must have stored it away for future use. How can a girl not feel loved with this in her life?

Long story long and photo-filled, I had an amazing day. Can you tell how much I love having a holiday birthday? Are you as happy as I am that I didn't wear heels for the nine-hours I was on my feet? Are you angry at my bangs for being un-photogenic? Are you sick of seeing my Christmas pin yet? Don't I have beautiful friends? Again, I appreciate all the well wishes--I felt exceptionally loved.

Here's to the next 25! As my birthday speech so eloquently said, "I hope most of you will be around the next year, some of you I'll be trying to squeeze out."

Stayin' ALive, Stayin' Alive

The 24th Birthday Disco Skate Extravaganza was a skatin' success! I couldn't believe how many people came--but more then that, I couldn't believe the skaters that were there. It was like living in a movie! Really, it was wild to watch the pro-skaters there. Shootin' the duck and all.

So, without further adieu, pictures from the skate-a-thon:
Nate, Joe, Dave and I.
Dancing crazy in the middle of the rink. The gal who took our skates told us we looked super cute. (My pants were about a foot too short.) This is only about a fifth the size of the group we had.

And, I can't for the LIFE of me get YouTube to post a video on my blog lately. HEre's the link to a little clip of us dancing in the middle: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LV18fj7GC34

Check out these sweet bangs.

Heber and Krista took the cake for best costumes. Hebe was hard core--shaved his sideburns and facial hair into true 70's fashion.

Quite a few friends came up from Provo (and St. George) for the big event. We've been friends with these boys since our Freshman year. We celebrated our 19th birthdays together... and now we're turning 24. Time goes so fast!I don't have much snarky comment for this event because it was just such a great time--it couldn't have gone any better. We had so much fun we may actually try to go again before I move East. Want to come?

You Know You're Loved...

When you get called to the front desk at work and these are waiting for you...

I've never had flowers delivered to me before at home, let alone at work! These are from Mel, one of my besties at Columbia.

THank you, thank you, thank you!