chelseahenderson

the fine print

I have to admit I’m one of those people who never looks at her phone bill. I’ve long had my wireless packaged together with my wifi, landline and cable (the triple play in Verizon parlance) and that universal bill is auto-deducted from my bank account each month. I went paperless way back when but rarely check my itemized bill online because I can never remember my login information.

Then I read this article: 12 Things You Need to Stop Paying For. The top item on the list, books, is a non-starter. I line my walls, my floors, my office with them. I don’t consider money spent on books to be a waste. In fact, I hope someday other like-minded people buy my books in high volume. I don’t own any original art not created by my children, but I do have lots of books. They are works of art, and in some cases, serve as a makeshift side table.

However, the second item on the list caught my attention: Cable TV.

We have hundreds of channels even though the kids only flip between three stations, and I have even fewer I routinely watch. While I can fall into the couch cushions like any other slug, it’s more important to me to read. I have a couple friends who use Apple TV, and that seems like a more streamlined approach to rotting the brain. So I ordered an Apple TV device and promptly called Verizon this morning to discuss my account.

I was fully prepared for the hard sell. “Stay with us and we will x, y, z your plan.” But I was pleasantly surprised. Not only did the customer service rep help me downgrade to a double play (wifi and phone) package, she found me other savings. I was paying for unlimited games on the computer? My computer is off limits to games. A phone protection plan? That dates back to the 90s. It isn’t even offered anymore, but I was grandfathered in to pay it. Virus protection? Isn’t that why I have a Mac? All in all, the Verizon rep with a midwest accent helped me trim nearly one hundred dollars off my monthly bill. Then I went over to Verizon Wireless where they saved me an additional forty-five bucks by switching me to a smaller data plan (I wasn’t coming close to using the plan I had) and eliminating some nebulous line access charge I was being pinged $15/month for.

I can’t believe I waited this long to make these budget friendly moves, but I tend to default to sticking with what I know. My communications bill should not cost more than my health insurance, and with these changes, it no longer will. The lesson: read the fine print. Know what you’re paying for. Change is scary, but it’s empowering to make informed choices.

romancing the snow

St. Patrick's Day Storm of 2014 — St. Patrick’s Day Storm of 2014

I’ve had a thing for snow since I was a little kid. I was excited as an eleven-year old to move from California to Maine where I’d get to experience white Christmases, hot chocolate by the fire and days off from school. Except living in Maine, we rarely had “snow days.” Instead I made the trek through the field in front of my house to my friend Debbie’s house and then together we walked the remaining hundred feet or so to our high school. We rarely got rides (poor us) and at some point, I realized no one else was wearing snow pants BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT COOL when you’re a teenager so we often arrived with wet jeans and feet, but youth is immune to a certain level of discomfort.

Fast forward to adulthood, living in the MidAtlantic is frustrating for a snow lover. We’re caught in snowstorm purgatory; dramatic weather forecasts and wild variability often turn a six-to-nine inch snow prediction into an inch of slushiness. We’ve come to expect the letdown (and the accompanying mind boggling school delays) but it doesn’t make busted snow totals easier to accept.

The most recent storm to ravage the northeast is a prime example of how my heart got set up for disappointment. While my sister in New Hampshire was frolicking in two feet of snow, we got a dusting, nowhere near the two-to-four inches we expected.

I fully admit I’ve romanticized the idea of snow the same way I have vote-a-rama nights in the Senate when staff stay until the wee hours and members take stacked votes one after the other. That is to say, I don’t really want to go back to the Hill, I just miss the camaraderie. I don’t want to lose power, be evacuated from my home because of storm surge, or get stranded without eggs, bread and milk. I do want to have enough snow to legitimately shut down the city, but not lose electricity in the process, and have my friends with four wheel drive over for a roaring fire and delicious wine. I long for the bonding of snowmaggedon without the inconveniences my New England loved ones faced this week. I want the St. Patrick’s Day snow storm of last year, when we huddled over the fire pit, Guinness kept cold in a snow bank.

While the upper Atlantic regions dig out, I have my eyes glued to the snowflakes sprinkled over the Weather Channel’s Sunday forecast. If only this time, we are the ones who get ravaged.

the 30-day minimalism challenge

“Less is more” is all the rage as evidenced by recent obsessions with normcore fashion and getting back to basics. I applaud efforts to shop locally, get kids outdoors and conserve time, energy and resources. But there’s a difference between making a lifestyle change and adopting a trend for the fifteen minutes it’s hot.

By way of example, I recently came across the 30-day minimalism challenge. “Looks interesting,” I said to myself. “I think I’ll try it.”

I didn’t tackle the tasks in order, because “define your goals for this year” was number 12 on the list, but it made sense to put it first. The next day, I meditated for fifteen minutes (longer than my usual five to ten). And the day after that, I decluttered my digital life. But then one day I was supposed to “unfollow and unfriend” which I already did under digital decluttering. Number 28 said to let go of a goal, but I had just defined them.

Go one day without makeup. Read a book instead of watching TV. Clean out your junk drawer, closet, beauty supplies. Learn to enjoy solitude. I relish downsizing, reading and solitude. I found myself less and less inspired by the tasks. After six days, I slacked off, not because the challenge was hard, but for the opposite reason. Frankly, changing my behavior for one day didn’t feel particularly meaningful.

In my opinion, it’s more impactful to pick one item and own it for a sustained period of time. Last year I vowed to not drink bottled water unless it was my only thirst quenching option. I not only succeeded in curbing an expensive habit, but I saved an itty bitty corner of the ocean at the same time.

I don’t mean to dis the 30-day minimalism challenge. Addressing one’s inherently bad practices for one day is better than not at all. Some might even use it as a launchpad for long-term change. But this particular challenge feels like fast food minimalism; it’s one thing to embrace tenets of less is more because it’s en vogue and another all together to do so purposefully and with clear intention.

just go shopping

If you live in the DC metro area and you like unique, cozy sweaters, fun boots and amazing clothes in general, you should find your way to the Del Ray neighborhood of Alexandria for Kiskadee’s renovation sale. They are literally closing their doors for three days to get a facelift for spring, and according to store manager Sarah, the fewer goods they have on hand before the renovations, the better. Winter items will be up to 80% off, and trust me, I dropped by yesterday, there is still good merchandise to be had. Department stores may be hocking bathing suits, but it’s not too late in the season to pick up your new favorite sweater. After all, there is still a lot of winter left on the calendar.

Starting Saturday, January 17th and running until the 24th when the tarps and painter’s tape will come out, pop by to shop the sale of the year.

Just don’t take the items I’m eying.

shop locally, make friends

I do my best to shop locally. Bookstores. Farmers Markets. Boutiques. Sure, I order some items online. Amazon does frequently save me time and money. But I like browsing. And I like people. (Mostly).

If I didn’t shop locally, I wouldn’t have met Sarah from Kiskadee or Christen from The Shoe Hive. These two wonderful women initially came into my life via outfit/shoe crises, then not long after became true friends. We share stories, laughter, and taste in footwear. And while I’m thinking of it, we are long overdue for dinner.

Last week, Sarah busted me leaving Mind the Mat (where I do my yoga teacher training) without coming in to say hi to her while she worked. I went into her store in my sweaty hot yoga gear. She sold me a pair of boots (on sale) and asked if she could profile me as one of her favorite people to dress.

I was honored.

who’s that girl: chelsea henderson

By the way, you don’t have to live in the DC Metro area to benefit from Alexandria Stylebook. This daily offering does highlight the wares of its consortium of members but also provides good style, life, and home advice.

Wherever you live and love, shop locally and make friends. It’s much more satisfying than getting a cardboard box from Amazon. And not only will some amazing people potentially come into your life, but you’ll support small business too.

old goals made new

The kids and I barely made it to midnight last night, leaving the warm house of dear friends before the ball dropped so we could get into our own pajamas and watch from the comfort of home.

“Okay, let’s go to bed now,” Jack said after the clock struck digital midnight.

“Where is the ball anyway?” Colin asked, eyes scanning images from Times Square.

I was all too happy to comply with the bedtime wish and as I tucked each boy in, I told them the same thing: I wish for us a new year filled with adventure, love and growth.

“Okay, me too,” Jack said, eyes drooping with the late hour.

“Yeah, I hope Jack hits his growth spurt,” Colin agreed as he rolled over. “I can’t wait for his voice to change.”

Adventure. Love. Growth.

Adventure. I’d like to take the boys some place that requires a passport. The Kerry Dark Sky Reserve? Safari? Greece? If going abroad doesn’t work out, there are adventures to be had domestically too. New York City awaits us in March. California and Maine always call. A big cousin reunion in Utah is long overdue. On the culinary side, maybe 2015 is the year I can get the kids to eat snails and frog legs. In the spirit of trying a new activity, I’d like to take them to the flying trapeze school for an afternoon.

Love. Love is tricky. How do I improve upon what I already have? I spent the last year feeling more present with my kids and doing the things that I love, both professionally and personally. I am fulfilled. But 2015 might be the year Jack has his first crush/girlfriend/heartbreak, and I’m going to have to figure out a way to help him through these angsty teen times without being interfering. Hopefully we make it through the year with him still wanting to hang out with me.

Growth. I have a long list. Defeat my fear of headstand. Add yoga teacher to my list of skills. Find jobs teaching yoga. Continue to write and get paid (more often) to do it. Go on a retreat, ideally writing and yoga themed. Listen more and talk less, but speak my truth when something is bothering me. I know I shouldn’t put learn a new language on the list because I’m setting myself up for failure but I’ve been feeling the draw to dust off my French books or pick up Spanish.

Some of these 2015 goals are repurposed from last year and some are intended to keep me on the path I’ve been traveling these last fifteen months. Less a set of resolutions and more a commitment to continue to take advantage of everything I hold in my hands and heart.

Happy New Year!

star light, star bright

My default entertainment in the car is to listen to NPR, a habit I only dial away from if I’m tired and need a livelier beat, have heard the segment already, or during Christmas season when I can’t get enough of my favorite yule time carols. It isn’t my sole news source, but it’s safer than checking my twitter feed while driving, except, of course, when the tear-inducing StoryCorps airs. Now that can be hazardous.

Last week, I was en route to yoga when a piece came on about the Kerry Dark Sky Reserve in Ireland. I turned up the volume. What is a dark sky reserve? I learned it’s a place, public or private land of 173,000 acres or larger, possessing “an exceptional or distinguished quality of starry nights and a nocturnal environment.” There are three such designated places in the world, and the Kerry Dark Sky Reserve is the only one in the Northern Hemisphere.

I wanted to close my eyes and picture a place where stars are vivid, but that would have born a set of complications I decided best not to risk behind the wheel. As I listened to Ari Shapiro interview the local Irish woman who spearheaded the recent dark sky designation in Kerry, I felt the enthusiasm in her voice the same as I feel the passion of a radio broadcaster calling a baseball game. Sight unseen, I put a visit to the Kerry Dark Sky Reserve at the top of my dream travel list. I want to see the Milky Way, more shooting stars than I can count, a full moon unfettered by urban light pollution.

Once my car was safely in park, I googled images of the reserve. It’s even better than I imagined. While I know pictures don’t do it justice, I ogle them daily. I can’t explain why this reserve, why these stars, call to me. Nor do I know when the opportunity will arise to visit them, but I have to before their brilliance is diminished. After all, we’re melting the glaciers, clogging the oceans with plastic bottles, and confusing our own pineal glands with too much light, so it isn’t a stretch to presume some day we’ll ruin the last vestiges of dark sky too. I’m determined to get there before that happens.

on 45

There’s nothing like Facebook to remind you it’s your birthday.

Who am I kidding? I never forget this day, nor do I let anyone else forget either. I blame my eagerness on being born in December and a lifetime of receiving Christmas cards (back when people used to do that sort of thing) that read “P.S. Happy Birthday.”

At a certain age, people dread turning older, but really, what’s the alternative? Gray hair I can handle, I mean, fix until it’s no longer graceful to do so. Fine lines add character (right?) and while my metabolism has slowed a little (okay, a lot) my energy levels haven’t. So I can’t look at food without gaining weight? I’m older, but stronger and hopefully wiser.

I started today off with a vinyasa flow class taught by one of my favorite teachers. It’s a warm day for December in the Mid Atlantic, and the sky is blue and clear. My friend Jane said I should ask for what I want today because who can say no on such a beautiful day. With that thought in mind, I’m going to make a few agent queries. The boys will be home from school soon, and we’ll eat celebratory ice cream sundaes before dinner because why not? I’ll cap off tonight with another yoga class from my other favorite teacher. After class, a nightcap with dear friends.

I plan to be up early tomorrow to embrace another day, another chance to do the things that bring me joy and surround myself with those I love.

Who needs presents?

a year in good reads

You can’t be a good writer without being a voracious reader, and I take the book stack on my bedside table seriously. I find there’s practically no better way to overcome writer’s block than to pick up a book and lose yourself in its pages. Love the book or hate it, there is inspiration to be found in other people’s words. In fact, I so disliked one recently read book (which I will not mention because I do not want to author-bash) that I just had to get back to the computer and write because if that book got published, surely mine stands a chance.

Anyway, 2014 was undeniably a good year for reading enthusiasts. My absolute favorite book of the year was ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE by Anthony Doerr. This book is an achingly beautiful interwoven tale of a blind French girl and young Nazi boy during World War II. I can’t even begin to do it justice with a plot description so just take my word for it and put it on your Christmas list now. And I mean, now now.

A close second was STATION ELEVEN by Emily St. John Mandel. I picked a good time (shortly after the Ebola panic subsided) to read this novel about the end of most of humanity due to a highly contagious flu. Contrary to what you might think, there is nothing about this book that is hysteria-inducing. In fact, the death of ninety-nine percent of humans is very matter of fact; it’s how the remaining one percent connect to each other as they move on with life, love, religion and the arts that sucks you in and leaves you turning page after page, well past a reasonable bedtime hour.

EUPHORIA by Lily King and A LIFE IN MEN by Gina Frangello (both profiled in my summer reading list) rank in my top five, and rounding out the top is REMEMBER ME LIKE THIS by debut novelist Bret Anthony Johnson. This heart wrenching account of the upheaval a family endures after their kidnapped son is found and returned to them left me sleepless and teary. Okay, maybe that doesn’t make you want to run out and grab a copy, but you should.

As the last days of December tick down, I’m sad there are still so many books on my TBR list that I won’t get to before 2015 and its slate of offerings. EVERYTHING I NEVER TOLD YOU by Celeste Ng, THE CHILDREN ACT by Ian McEwan, and THE PAYING GUESTS by Sarah Waters would all be great finds under my Christmas tree and would quickly jump to the top of the pile of books currently awaiting my eyes.

whoops, I wrote a second novel

So this funny thing happened as I was pitching my first novel to literary agents… One day over the summer, exhausted yet unfulfilled after sending out a round of queries, all of which take time to research and must be personalized to suit the requirements of the agent being pursued, I thought to myself, “I need to write something more creative than a letter.”

Two days later, the idea for a second novel was born.

Over the course of a couple of weeks, I fired off a quick 25,000 words. But then I stalled. I was away for much of August, and while I wrote a little while I was gone, I was not as prolific as I hoped to be.

In September, I began working with the Virtual Writer Workshop, a small online community of writers who embraced me into their fold. Every two weeks, my group shared up to 7,000 words which the other members of the group critiqued. I don’t know about you, but I find my writing improves when I’m critiquing others. It’s easier to see your own weaknesses through the lens of another writer’s good prose. Under the pressure of deadlines and encouragement from my group members, I wrote above and beyond the workshop goals. Through this process, I figured out how I wanted to end the novel, and then I wrote the heart of the story with that ending in mind.

Two weeks ago, I sent the completed first draft of novel #2 out to a small group of beta readers, kind volunteers who will provide feedback on everything from misplaced commas to structural flaws with the plot. One of those beta readers is a writer I met through the workshop. She got “hooked” (her words) on my story, and I can’t wait to hear what she thinks after reading it beginning to end.

In the meantime, waiting for feedback is hard (I’m impatient) so I’ve taken a break from the story to work on other projects. I plan to pick it back up with fresh eyes and new perspective once the critiques are in. My ultimate goal is to have an agent-ready manuscript by the end of January. Ambitious, but doable.

“Has she given up on novel #1?” I can feeling you asking. Never. But I’ve heard from more than one author that often the first book you write isn’t the first published. In my humble opinion, the super secret plot structure of novel #2 is more unique than the love triangle at the core of novel #1. So I’ll shift my focus to the second book, and if an agent nibbles, guess what? I have a second manuscript (novel #1) waiting in the wings. The second book also lends itself to a sequel. Hey, writing novel #3 may well be to pitching novel #2 what writing novel #2 was to pitching novel #1.

What am I waiting for? Maybe I’ll just start writing now.