my bag.



It’s just a black bag, but it’s amazing.  I kid you not, every time I travel it’s complemented.  It usually happens in the security line when I’m pulling out my laptop, which is stored in a not so obvious spot.  See above.  What I love about the bag is that it truly can function for work and school, and it also looks like I bought it at Nordstrom.  Not that I care where people think I bought my bag – the point is that it’s cute.  And functional.  And oh so sturdy.  I love it.  And did I mention it was a gift?  From a stranger on an airplane who was returning from a trip to wholesale them to Fry’s.  Ahhh, the karma of actually taking the time and curtesy to say hello to your flying neighbor.

Loki has developed a habit lately of chewing zippers.  I have no idea why, but I do know he’s getting nowhere near this bag.

If you’re curious, and you’re not fortunate enough to bump into my friend on a plane, you can find the bag here.


I’m baaaaack.

While I’m sure my workout clothes have enjoyed the rest as much as I have, it’s time.  It’s time to get back into my running shoes, back into the fresh air, and apparently…back into the gym?  That’s right.  I (re)joined Olympic Athletic Club tonight.  Don’t get me wrong – I love boot camp.  But it’s become virtually impossible to complete a session without wasting $50 on a week I’m out of town.

So here I am, home from the gym, legitimately excited I went to the gym.  Between the crazy menu of classes and the full file folder of apps on my phone, I’m thinking it’s a whole new ballgame.  Plus, I went month to month, so I won’t waste money if I sign up for boot camp or decide to train for something.  I can always freeze the membership.

So obviously I need a new gym wardrobe.  All I have is outside running gear, and I learned tonight that just doesn’t cut it.  I was uncomfortable after two minutes on the treadmill.  And so, I am sending the honey to the Nike Employee Store with my pass.  50% off of EVERYTHING.  HOLLA!!





Goal #1: Zumba… I know, I know – it’s so 2008.  But I walked by tonight and they were having so much fun.  I think I could really get my groove on.

Pinterest pink sparkle head


Again, I love pinterest. In fact,  my phone is being slowly dominated by the ‘save to camera roll’ feature. No longer does my phone hold mostly faces of my people- but rather, picts I’d like to use here or print one day (will probably never happen) or review for inspiration. Oh, and it taps me in, for even a second, to my more creative and visually observant brain. My inner curator.

Collecting pretty and seeing how my mood is reflected back each day by what I am drawn to is an interesting calibrator for how things are going. Some days are pink, others design heavy, many pickled with outdoor shots.

Here’s my mood this am:

My home!

Pink and grey.

Sparkle head.

My nose ring, my self


Uh huh. Hospital policy does not allow for facial piercings. Something about health code. Blah blah blah.

As a person who isn’t attached to much stuff wise, and does work on a daily basis around the central philosophical question ‘who am i?’ the anticipatory grief/mourning of my nose ring has come as quite the surprise. First there was disbelief, then frustration/anger/, then fill blown denial, and now, well, all those feeling wrapped up together with some magical thinking that says “no! I will outsmart them. This is not happening.” To that point, I took my relatively new rose gold ring out today and replaced it with a flat disk, as if subtle equals removed. Trust me, it feels gone, and I think this is a reasonable compromise. The extremely cute piercer at NY Adorned assured me it was pretty, as I crowed on about the loss of my identity. How am I supposed to date with no ring. It seems almost as luddacris as presenting with straight hair. I have a pierced nose. Period.

I was only half joking. This baby step to removal, which I can’t at all afford, is hilariously ridiculous, but seemingly, a needed step. It makes me so curious about the many levels of Bridget at play right now. While it seems trite, there are major spiritual and philosophical issues playing themselves out in this small piece of metal. It has become, in the 14 years we’ve been together, a major part of how I present myself to the world. Yes, I like how it looks, and in California, I never thought much about it because so many of my dearest friends have rings/studs de nostril. But in New York, it makes me stand out just that little bit. This is of MAJOR value in the city that never sleeps. You know, even when I have my preppiest duds on, that I am not working at Morgan Stanley with a nose ring. I am realizing that I like what the world might assume about me because of my jewelry. And, that they might see me and think “she’s a little different” or “she has a funky style” or “she’s not from here.”

I am entering a traditional institution, with a booming patriarchal power structure that puts my kind (woman/social workers) close to the bottom of the pecking order. This does not make me want to blend in. It makes me want to stand out. This might have something to do with my slight resistance-to-authority-issue. And/but, I chose work where the use of myself is at the center of my skill set. And, I would like to express myself accordingly, thank you very much. My nose ring has nothing to do with my level of professionalism. It also, has not kept one patient or family from engaging with me in 18 months. But, that’s another tangent.

All this said, an interesting experiment lies ahead uncovering the feelings produced by life sans ring. How will this really affect me? Is it all in my head? What other accessories does my identity hang from? And most importantly, do they notice the very subtle flat disk. Or, rather, do I have the ovaries to actually wear it to my first day.