Recently, I got to sit down with Angela Lussier and Thom Fox (of BrunoFox Group) for their weekly show, The Engine. While we talked about ways for hustlin' entrepreneurs to make realistic, healthier choices, you can also find out how I got the title Poo Whisperer. Give a listen here.
Hiya, I'm Kara. For those of you who don't know me yet, welcome to my blog. Consider yourself invited to read and digest some of the posts on this page. See something you like? Please leave a comment. See something you don't like? Please leave a comment. I totally value your unique perspective.
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Normally posts like this just go to my super-fab List. However, the response has been SO enormous in the last 24 hours, so I wanted to share it here. (Click Pssst...Are you on The List yet? if you want in on the conversation.)
From the email:
Last night, I was standing in my kitchen contemplating what to eat. I ate a big lunch, so I just wanted a snack.
Apple? Nah, I had one earlier.
Salad? Nope, I had that with breakfast.
A square of dark chocolate? Maybe later...
[Opening the freezer] Toast?
For a moment, my Itty Bitty Shitty Committee was all over that idea. Here's a snippet of what went through my head: It has gluten! Alright, a shit-ton of refined, white flour makes me feel somewhat sluggish, but I don't have any reason to believe that I'm celiac. You can do better than that, Kara! Really? I think there are a bazillion foods that might shorten my life faster than a single slice of organic, whole wheat sourdough bread. You're living on the edge. Ummm, it's toast. It's not heroin or a pack of Gauloises.
So, I lived on the edge: I ate the toast. I digested it just fine, but I couldn't digest what happened. While I watched The Voice, I mulled it over. And here it comes:
“Even bad Pilates is good for you,” said my teacher, Brooke Siler. As an apprentice striving to be better hour by countless hour and a perfectionist NO WHERE near recovery at the time, that statement always made me bristle. It was fine for newbies to bumble through their workouts, but why would an apprentice teacher want to do anything less than perfect? [Shrug.]
Ironically, it was during my last apprentice exam that I began to...I'm just going to say it...palpably dislike my own Pilates workouts, especially on the reformer. There is a rhythm to Pilates and an element of strong elegance. As someone who did gymnastics from age 3, played soccer and is an avid runner, I never have been able to “perform” Pilates like my teachers or peers from the dance world. I’ve studied movies made by Joe himself and with contemporary master teachers.
Now, I've done the soul-searching work to understand what skills and talents that I bring as a teacher. Yet every time I put my head back on that headrest to start my workout, I was Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz listening to a mixtape of every criticism from every teacher or everycoach that I’ve ever worked with. The volume dial was at 11.
My clients gobble up my end-of-business session times, so I miss out on some of the in-person events. Why would I let that stop me from meeting some new folks? Check out this short video. It's a short, asynchronous hello to the Noho Chamber members that I haven't met yet...or people like you.
1: to express gratitude to
2: to hold responsible
Many of the clients that I work with happen to be entrepreneurs or aspiring entrepreneurs. I heard so many of them struggling to start writing their first bits of website copy. I also really value promoting the whipsmart, talented ladies I know who do cool stuff. So, I got my favorite Word Nerd, Megan Atkinson, to sit down and chat with me and my friend, Angie. Give it a watch. I'd love to hear if this helped you in the comments below.
Yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day again. Much like the dreaded wedding bouquet toss, it’s that day that separates us into the haves and the have-nots. It’s a commercial day marked by inferior-quality chocolate. (Gasp!) However, this day is a reminder, a really useful one. Because, get this, you have everything that you need right now to make this day whatever you dream up.
C’mon, hear me out.
As many of you know, I got married last year. Femme Ephemera (me) married dixiecupdrinkin (Craig). We met on match.com; those were our screen names. It’s the chronic overworking city-dweller way.
Here’s the interesting bit: Neither of us thought that we’d ever get married.
I was Craig’s 50th (and what he declared, last) first date. I’ve probably been on as many first dates myself plus a couple of epic (yet informative) fails in the Relationship Department. At points, I have had Saturday night double dates with Auntie Mame and Ben & Jerry. I was your garden variety unlovable.
Then, something changed…
Well, the holiday season has come to a close for another year.
Did you have a bad case of Overitis this year, too? You know...'twas the season to overeat, over-drink, over-spend, over-schedule, over-stimulate, over-caffeinate, overlook, overachieve, etc.
Confession time: I am an Over-scheduler. Guilty as charged. I thought I had it under control, but somehow something happens every year with the first waft of Thanksgiving dinner. Life becomes that classic 1970s game for the fledgling Type A person, Perfection. I scramble to plug as many family members and friends into my calendar before the figurative timer pops on New Year's Day. Just like playing that game as a kid, the whole thing usually ends with my heart beating way too fast, my stomach churning and my body feeling tense and exhausted. (Sorry, darling adrenals.)