[about] one year ago.

i landed in boston.
i traded the space needle for the citgo sign.
the rain for the snow.
the overcast skies... for hopefully brighter ones.

i remember it like it was yesterday. i remember the smell of the rental car, the feeling of being turned around but not completely lost as i was trying to find my hotel along the charles river... i remember the warm chocolate chip cookie (compliments of every double tree hotel) that i ate after finally getting to my room on January 22nd minutes before it would be midnight, and i remember the i had a sesame bagel with cream cheese at finagle-a-bagel the next morning while i browsed the internet, waiting to get into my temporary housing. i remember it like it was yesterday, and its now been a year (and a week) since.

about one year ago, i joined a brand with an level of integrity that is so real you can feel it, and a brand that i could really leave my mark on. i joined an organization at a time where i could be a part of something really really big and because i was given the rare opportunity where someone who i'd only  heard stories about, needed and wanted me to join them. i took a job with a brand because location wise, it was on the right side of the map (both literally and figuratively), and because i know myself and what's important to me... and that includes time zones and flight durations to the one's i want to be able to get to the fastest.

about a year ago, i became an east coast girl again.

this weekend last year was easy to remember for me, and for a lot of reasons, maybe a few i'll skip over. i'd just finished up my first week of work at New Balance. i was five days into navigating myself around a gigantic company compared to where i'd come from. i was readjusting to running in the freezing temps, and learning new highways and exploring new neighborhoods. i played cranium and taboo over laughter and copious amounts of wine at my friend kay's house that saturday night with a big group of people. the sunday morning began with an easy 10-miler through brookline, where i told kay i thought i was finally out of the woods with all of the nagging left leg injuries, (i was wrong). i would go to my first beacon hill bar for the Superbowl and sit at a cozy corner table, (the same table i've sat at the only three times i've been there), and i would drive back in my over-sized vehicle (but really medium sized in Dave Wood's opinion), to my temporary housing, lying in bed having mini-inner-panics at all the noises in this 3-bedroom, 2-level condo that is way too big for one girl..... but knowing i'm here, in boston, and its absolutely right.

i'm not too good with directions, with tip calculations or balancing checkbooks. sometimes my tears win out over things i'd wish i'd said, and i go back up the elevator in my building almost twice a week because i think i've left my straightener on. but... one thing... one thing i'm proud to say i'm pretty good with are my instincts. i trust them. they rarely fail me. i've had people tell me this; that my instincts are quite dialed in. so i put weight into them and i listen to my gut. my gut knew it was right to move to boston from seattle, despite the difficulties, despite the challenges of being a single girl moving to a city and carving out a foundation, shaping a life, and finding my people, (for the second time). amongst the nerves, and the angst one year ago, were my instincts... knowing it was right to be landing on that runway in beantown.

going into year two in this amazing city, i'm so glad for the things i've learned, the experiences i've had, and the people i've met. to those who've entered my life and left an impression on me, you've only helped further prove this is where i'm supposed to be.

dear boston.
i think you're great. thanks for taking me in.
now let's just figure out the other stuff, okay?
with love,
cw

*pictured is Gas Works Park at the bottom of my street in Seattle.  i sat here with my thoughts and my ipod playing Green Gloves by the National... and i decided to go east.

a girl.

this will be quick. my boss just told me about this; his friend is largely involved in the execution of this website.
please watch it, and learn about "the girl effect".

watch it. as in right now... for two minutes. i am so serious.
www.thegirleffect.org

that's all.
cw

"I think Jake was breast fed until he was 5"

There's a lot going on in my life.
Exciting things. (work related).
Tough things (life related).
Funny things (the ordinary).
Ridiculous situations (the ordinary).

anyway, my catchy title to this overdue blog, which mama lisa would no doubt find distasteful, is an excerpt from realitysteve.com... a website i have been hooked on since getting hooked on the Bachelor. realitysteve is somehow so tapped into the how-can-these-not-be-choreographed-dynamics that take place on this season's show, featuring Jake the Pilot. the website is a bit of a spoiler, so i've learned to read it after i view the episodes, always back to back, via hulu on my macbook, in my bed with my contacts already out. it's amazing the little things we look forward to when the big things don't seem to be there. anyway, realitysteve.com is hysterical, it's honest, and if you don't mind a little offensive humor in his musings, i'd highly recommend it.

The Bachelor. so, like any man, Jake has a skill, and a fantastic one at that; as he is a fearless, talented pilot. Jake is ripped, baby-faced, and looks good in T's and jeans (my fav), but appears to be a dreaded simpleton. sorry, no offense, but he's simple. and maybe that's okay. maybe he needs a simple girl? the fact that vienna has made it this far is shocking, and i feel bad for the seemingly normal Ali, (who yes, i think i would be friends with), as it's making her visibly repulsed. but Ali, maybe he's not your guy.... do the contestants ever think like that? i mean just because you are one of the 25 chosen women, is he your person? i dunno, i just think its super hard to find it all there, and maybe i'm assuming, but for the most part this bachelor, or bachelorette in the other season, is considered by default "the one". whatever.  i suppose i should give huge kudos to ABC, as i'm one of the millions of viewers who has been successfully reeled in.

so this blog sort of sucks. the 'sort of' probably isn't necessary. i have been uber busy with work, very exciting work things that aren't directly related to my department but i was lucky enough to be a big part of, and am so pumped for how yet again, we've made a big statement to everyone to seriously make sure their rear view mirrors are positioned correctly. we're coming, and there's no doubt. (yes. i am competitive. its why i am here).

to end the blog with a typical claire story, while in NYC this weekend in my adorably little boutique hotel with neon green lighting adoring the doorways but a bathroom that a 6'3" dave wood would NEVER fit into.... i had a funny little elevator sitch. first of all, en route to the elevator as i was squeezing in a quick run before another big dinner, there is a woman in the hallway standing outside of her door post a gigantic fight in which the cops were called, (true story). she looks at me and says, "heeeeey honey, dontchajustwishyaweresingle?" and i meekishly (which is not a word but you catch my drift and i NEVER am, meek that is), shyly smiled and said, "yeah, i guess". then, as if someone above is SCRIPTING this, i re-enter said hotel post-lovely-central-park run to encounter two deliciously in love (or lust) Euros making out in the elevator. problem is, there were only one set of buttons, and the Euros were seriously leaning up against them whilst playing a game of tonsil hockey as if Bobby Orr was one tongue and Wayne Gretsky was the other. here comes 'meek claire part 2', as i shyly said, "um, excuse me." nope, no dice. game proceeds." EXCUSE ME, 10 please? TEN" again.... full contact sport here friends. i LITERALLY have to shove them over as they look up only to see the floor and move their feet so they can keep making out, i push floor 10, arrive just in time before being at 11, and stop in the hallway..... and laugh.

because these things happen to me. these non-exaggerated stories.
at the most ill fitting, yet perfectly fitting times. strike that, reverse it. but you know what i mean.
the point is, i wouldn't want to be making out against the elevator buttons with Jake, The Bachelor, and so umm, i wanted him to know that in case he stumbles upon my blog whilst postponing another rose cermony.

xo,
cw

oh shoot.

so while i heart the store Anthropologie, and spend waaaaay too much money there, i often peruse the site for general pattern inspiration to bring back to the design team. (and yes, eh hem, this can all relate to performance running shoes).

anyway. i just fell in love a little bit.
with this big yellow bag.
i've sort of been waiting for a blueish one, and i'm really picky on how soft the leather is, not to mention the pocket to zipper ratio. i found one a few months ago, but it wasn't pliable enough and i didn't love it enough.

i love this one. i won't buy it. it's a little too much mulah. BUT, the name of the bag is "zing and tart," which i think is just a little bit fantastic. it's like the bag is sort of a superhero... zing and tart around this annoying meeting, zing and tart around that know-it-all, zing and tart in the packed grocery store where someone's cart is dangerously close to your vertebra in line. ok. that's all for now. i'm at work you know.

for the record this post took 3.5 minutes. while i ate some pineapple.
xo,
cw

Up at 4:30

it's 6AM in New Orleans. i am at the airport, getting ready to depart for San Diego for a meeting with our global footwear partners from Japan and the UK offices. i was super, super cranky about having to get up at 4:30AM. i even headed out the hotel door to bourbon street last night and promptly walked back in.... i have a big day today starting about an hour after i land and i owe it to the team to not be more tired than i already will be.

i was going to blog about New Orleans; about the music, the jumbalaya, the soaked-in-butter-and-i-loved-it-cajun, or the run with my brother-like-buddy matt from brooks. i'm not going to though. the most destructive earthquake to ever hit the world since 1770 has struck haiti, and as i got in my cab at 4:30AM this morning, ready to close my eyes.... my cab driver just needed to tell someone. he said, "i had a horrible, horrible day yesterday miss."

his entire family is in haiti, in Port Au Prince. he has not heard from a single one. i don't need to elaborate.
he told me where they lived, who is over there. he dialed his phone over and over.
as i gave him the fare for the cab i told him thoughts and prayers are with him. i had on idea what else to say.
i checked in and walked through security with a lump in my throat. that man's reality is utterly tragic right now. mine... is not.

cw

and i won't disappear, in this city.

so i'm in the depths of my very first New England Winter. while i know cold from growing up in Northern Virginia... this is a very different cold that the bones and skin of CW have ever experienced. i have realized living in Boston when it comes to walking to my car, walking from loser lot to the office, (the lot for those who arrive to work a few mins shy of 8:30 when the early-bird lot is full), or even walking down my street to get a latte... fashion literally flies out the window. i can almost see her flying away, miss fashion herself, waving goodbye with sunglasses on, a bottle of sunscreen in one hand, and a huge smile... clearly off to somewhere warmer.

while i've justified plenty of new purchases due to my new climate, i've decided i am permanently freezing, (unless seeing stars in a bikram yoga class), and i'm the girl that ends up with a gigantic scarf halfway in my mouth while also managing to accost my ponytail in an extremely unattractive way. i then spend the first 3 minutes of my drive picking red or purple threads off of my tongue. i do recognize the fact that i believe everybody is freezing, but having admittedly gone soft living in seattle the past few years, i think i'm transitioning a little slower into this cold weather.

which takes me to.... running. so yes, i need to get out there, move the legs. while i've become somewhat of a bikram addict, i'm still running. after braving the cold a few days last week totally layered up, i nearly ate the sidewalk running up my street. i was a few inches from tasting concrete, and i am not exaggerating. my strangely limber spine and a TV-like save had my heart pounding and thus began an internal monologue lecturing myself on not being an idiot. if you know me you know i'm having some shoulder socket problems. it even sounds ridiculous to type. but i'll be blunt here. i was all-state in field hockey in high school, i used to dive with my arms outstretched, yet i've taken two spills in the last few years and have managed to dislocate both shoulders, most recently in early December. this has me totally afraid to fall on the ice, and hence, why i've had to acquaint myself with mr. treadmill.

i hate the treadmill. i've only been on one a handful of times in my life. why do i hate it? for one i get visions of a slight misstep in my footing and flying off the back, dislocating both shoulders and losing two front teeth and making a huge scene. my mind immediately goes to the dental chair with lights in my face and the taste of sterile rubber gloves, hearing mumbling between the dentist and the hygentist on how they'll fix this tragedy of all of my broken teeth. would my mom fly up? who would i call in boston when this happened? do i even know anyone's phone numbers in boston by heart? how would i even make sure my cell phone gets out of the locker and with me to the ER following this horrible treadmill fall? ohmygosh, don't lose your footing on the t-mill claire. (some might say i have a paranoid imagination).

while, (knock on wood), being very careful on the treadmill. i've managed to get in some decent runs on the it. i like to find one near the window, so i can check my reflection and make sure i have enough room behind me on the tread. people probably think i'm looking at myself. i mean i am, but not in a vein sort of way, i'm just exceptionally cool at looking calm on the exterior whilst having internal anxiety. anyhow. i have learned 50% of the TVs are broken that are attached to these treadmills, and sometimes i'd rather find one with a broken TV instead of one accompanied with the lurking stench of axe body spray mixed with miller lite that was sweated out.

this past Friday, after a horrendously long day of work, i was able to get in an hour run and watch Bear Grillz on Man vs. Wild eat a live trout. As the trouts guts busted out of the spine of the fish, i was the girl gasping with a disgusted look on my face. i had the volume up pretty high, so chances are, my gasps were of an inapporpriate volume. my bad. the following day i had to hop on a treadmill with a broken TV, and thus began the movie of cw.

that's right. the movie. it is so cheesy, but sometimes when i blast music and walk around, or run, i feel like i'm in a movie.. i listened to my ipod for 45 minutes, and played a total of 5 songs. this is where my annoying habbit of being able to listen to songs over and over again comes in handy. i am not sure if i should be embarassed that i was BLASTING  "in this city" by Iglu and Hartly, but it completely and utterly pumped me up. i looked at my ponytail in the reflection of the broken TV screen, glanced over at the chick next to me, and felt a little hard core that my pace was exceptionally faster than hers. ( i know, i know, but we all need to get our kicks somewhere). anyway. i won't lie. i wasn't doing some intense, up tempo run, but this song made me feel like a total bad ass.

take a listen to it... is it just me? :)


safe footing to all out there...
*cw

right up my alley.

so it's a new year and a new decade.
we cannot deny the fact that there are terrible things that happen in the world; there is tragedy, sadness, and misfortune. there are however, incredible and countless blessings to be so in awe of, including the astounding fact that the will of the human spirit always presses on.

i heart this video. these sorts of things are right up my alley. please watch. (the little israeli boy at 2:27 pretty much makes my heart bust out of my chest).