Going Budget

There needs to be a new adjective for "cheap" because in an economy that is having amnesia on what the dollar should to be worth, pretty much everyone is downright cheap. My word for this is "budget". The adjective version not the noun. Here are the ways I go budget when I go out.

Groupon. The only way to explore a new activity, salon, or yoga studio you've been wanting to check out. Although, you do run the risk of being referred to as the "groupon girl" by the receptionist when you arrive for your facial. Ehh, I've been called worse.

Goldstar.com. An excellent source for discounted tix in your area. Just subscribe to the weekly emails and you'll be amazed by the great deals that magically appear in your inbox every Tuesday.

Restaurant.com. You pay $10 for a $25 gift certificate at local restaurants through this website (minimum purchase applies, read all fine print). It's a savings of $15 unless you're super budget like me and you subscribe to the emails for a weekly promo code. VOILA... 70-80% savings makes it only 2-3 bucks for a $25 gift certifcate! You're welcome.

Walmart. Eeek, nothing says bottom-feeder like this place but if you can get past the creepy clientele, it's all worthwhile once you're at the register and realize how much you saved. Not to mention all the free entertainment roaming the aisles.

Coupon clippings. This is California not the Midwest, so "extreme couponing" is out, BUT the art of coupon clipping is still very IN. Take my latest score in the sunday paper for $3 off Iams catfood. Apply that $3 to Iams at Walmart and you just made your momma proud!

On budget travel... travelocity is so 2001. yes I know there are a bazillion search engines to find good hotel rates, but the AAA website has never let me down. You don't even have to be a AAA member for most of the deals. Just by booking through the website (www.csaa.com) you can still get the AAA rate at most hotels. Sweet, right?

See? Just because you go budget everywhere doesn't mean you can't get out and try new places. Plus you'll have more money in your pocket to put into savings - conveniently named - for a well-earned vacation!

Got any other tips on how to go budget in this economy?

p.s. In case you're wondering about the blog name change, after 3 years of writing, I decided to update the name to more accurately reflect ME. Davina Defined. Simple and straight-forward. Thanks for reading!

Solemates

I have had this argument before and will probably lose again someday but it's worth repeating.

Women's shoes were designed by a man. It's only obvious because they have a way of making you feel great about yourself and yet can cause serious pain at the same time. Some shoes are like that first crush you had in grade school that you adored right up until they pulled down your pants in front of everyone, exposing your Tuesday underwear. And it was NOT Tuesday, it was in fact Wednesday. True story. But no this post is not about relationships, or my repressed memories, but rather, shoes!

As long as I've been short, which is my entire life, I've always been trying to be taller. Even when I was too little for heels I was wearing them anyway. When I was 7, I insisted on wearing my sister's heels out to her 16th birthday dinner. I stuffed socks in the front so my feet halfway fit and I could try to pull off my dress with 2-inch light pink pumps. It didn't take long to realize how ridiculous I looked when the servers in the restaurant were chuckling to themselves at my sad attempt to be fashionable and taller. Maybe that's why I need several pairs of shoes these days to make sure I always have the right heel and the right color for my outfit of choice. Or maybe I am just like every other woman who opts for the big heels. Because I can.



I will never forget a conversation I had with my mom once about her dancing days in her 20s. When I visited her I would show off my shoes and show her pics of my latest adventures and hot outfits. One time she shook her head and said 'Those were the days! I remember being able to wear shoes like that... enjoy it while you can cause one day you won't be able to. But at least you can look back and say DAMN I looked good!'  We laughed but I still think of that when I see a pair of heels I absolutely love. Something fun and 4-5 inches high. Maybe I don't have an outfit yet for them but when i do... DAMN I'll look good!

  

holy hotness

My latest predicament has been moving downtown and within walking distance to Old Sacramento, the Capitol, and umpteen million bars and restaurants. The key words being "walking-distance".  I really haven't lived anywhere that would require more than 5 blocks of walking to and from and anything further I would just drive. Downtown Sacramento however is wide and spread out. Yes there are clumps of good places but there is no main drag where everything you want is located together. It's about a mile walk from home to one cluster, a half mile to the next cluster, half mile to the next, and a mile home. While a mile is just a mile, it's also 5,280 feet, or in DivineENVE terms approximately 2,000 steps. There in lies the problem. No one, not even Carrie Bradshaw herself can walk 4,000 steps roundtrip in heels. Platform wedges, maybe, a short boot, flip flops, ballet flats even. But not a heel.  Case in point.

 

Carrie TV

Carrie real life

Anyway, the flatter alternatives got old really quick when I realized after so many years in heels my feet don't like flats. I don't like feeling the entire surface of my foot on hard pavement. My arch doesn't like having to brace itself, or my toes cling to flip flops I feel like I'm going to walk right out of. The boot does okay but doesn't look quite right in shorts and a tank. This is Sacramento, not the South. Lastly, I don't like flats because it's like announcing to the world I've been lying about not being 5'7" but a sad little 5'4" this whole time! Oh the horror!!!

Well last weekend I broke down and bought some reasonable flats. Something that I could pull off with jeans and a tank top, shorts, or even workout pants so I can look like I'm either on the way to/from the gym when really i just want to be lazy comfortable. I opted for these.

Black pumas

At first they felt about as foreign as moonboots... the Neil Armstrong version not the 80s version. My arch didn't know what to do, but instantly I enjoyed the springy feeling of walking! I lasted the whole day and a bike ride later but my feet didn't let me forget about their contempt of the flat shoe. The middle of my foot ached by the end of the day when I gladly redeemed a foot massage by my boyfriend who took pity on my poor paws.

When it comes to women's shoes, it's all about what you feel best in. I for one feel most confident in a cute heel. They give me the appearance of longer looking legs, a better butt, and reinforce that womanly sway that apparently I've had since I was in diapers. While I may be more practical in my shoe choice these days, I know I will be that woman wearing heels until the day I no longer can. And by no longer I mean by the time my feet start looking like a ped egg commercial because I will not be wearing socks with my sandals. Or those clog looking things. Or anything with velcro. And don't even get me started on crocs.

I have discovered one thing to make my highest heels more bearable though and that is the sticky gel pads and grip stickers (available at DSW) because men's invention of these types of shoes don't always come with the most logical feature - traction. I'm sure there's a joke in here about men's aversion to things that stick, cling, or otherwise chafe. Hmm. I think I'll leave that one alone. 

Resurfaced

Well now that sounds like I got a face lift.  No lift, same face, just a few more wrinkles and a lot more freckles than the last time you saw me.

I recognize that I haven't written a blog post in some time, but most people who are followers here know that I've been dealt a DOOSEY of a 2011 so far. In fact, my whirlwind starting Dec 22, 2010 when I was rear-ended by a teenager and suffered a herniated disc in my neck. Subsequently stopped working out to risk further injury. My biological mom passed away on January 10. Causes were undetermined, but we believe she passed from complications from pneumonia and 25 years of very bad treatment of her body. She was 57. I retreated into a depression after discovering that the world does NOT stop while you're grieving. I still went to work (most of the time), saw my therapist (okay once), and generally felt overwhelmed (all of the time).

My job transferred me to a land far far away. Unrelated to any missed workdays on my part, they actually closed our office and split us three ways. I got the 30-mile commute, but nifty perks like my own office and a fresh new start.

I moved in together with my boyfriend. I haven't written much about him here, but since he doesn't read this thing anyway, it can be our dirty little secret. He is my missing puzzle piece. We click, laugh all the time, fight like two retarded people who are terrified of losing each other. It's funny in a non-humorous sort of way. What's the word for that? Oh yeah, relationship. But, our saving grace is that we really do enjoy each other. We aren't that lame couple who finishes each others sentences or make the world vomit from the baby talk. I actually try not to be one of those annoying "we" talkers... "we" don't watch american idol. I watch american idol and he tolerates it. comprende?

As I resurface from my post-mother's day 2011 funk, 12 pounds heavier, though mostly adjusted by now to all of my new circumstances. I accept that life does not always go the way you want it, but there is still a lot to be grateful for, such as still having the time to do what you want while you still can. I am developing some new goals, and I know it would probably be a good idea to get back into the gym while I still have some 2009-2010 muscle left. But I am not in a huge hurry to change myself for the future because today, I have a strong, healthy body, and a more positive attitude. What else could I possibly need? Well, an adorable new pair of shoes couldn't hurt!

Dreams

I dreamt of you.

The family had come together and we were celebrating your life.  You were there in the flesh, though your soul had already moved on.  You sat in silence, listening to our stories, you were not afraid. You were strong, poised as usual, as each of us said goodbye to you in our own way, made peace with the past, and hugged you. I remember your hands.

You listened contently to my father’s speech. He quoted scripture about Jesus and water symbolizing re-birth. He trailed off, and I thought of my own loss again. My heart ached. My cousin rested her head on my shoulder as we listened to the stories of celebration. I knew she was hurting as she breathed a deep sigh, releasing the weight of the past.  My brother-in-law led us in prayer, as the room wrapped its arms around my Auntie, I knew it was time to say goodbye. I looked out the window to the reflection of the sunset on the water, the warm breeze comforting my worries, Hawaii’s shore calling her home. 

We walked down the long white pathway leading down to the water.  Women lay purple flowers at our feet, their sunkissed arms outstretched, their beautiful smiles welcoming us.  My eldest cousin rode a bike down the pathway, my Auntie reclining in a chair hitched to the bike. Her hair blew in the wind. She sat behind the strength of her daughter, whose strong legs powered the bike towards the water, leading her mom. My heart cried, overwhelmed. I clutched my mom Yaja, weakened by the loss of another family member.  I cried for her though her cheeks stayed dry.  She looked to the water, and peace overcame us, as my Auntie went willingly to her final resting place.

 I awoke that Saturday in a wash of emotion, it’s not often I’m given a gift of a dream involving death that fills me with so much peace.  I thought back and wondered if when we die, if our soul (or our consciousness rather) goes before our bodies, do we still get to dream? Do we get to choose a place where we go, with our families and loved ones, where we can hear their final words and feel their embraces all the way up till we finally let go?   What little I knew about my Auntie, I was sure she loved the beach, the sun, Hawaii, her kids.  I accepted this dream as possibility, and even reassurance, that my Auntie went in peace that day as she had in my dream.    

I think of my mom Virginia, and wonder if by going in her sleep if she also died in her dreams.  What did she dream of? Did she dream of me and my brothers as she let go to her final resting place. Was it also in water?  Did she dip her feet in the ocean, feel the sand in her toes one last time?  Did she hear her father calling her home?  As we spread her ashes that sunny day at the San Francisco Bay, I figured if there were any time I could be sure she was there with us, it would be right then, if only for a moment.  I hold onto that moment, every day.  It’s not goodbye, anymore than a farewell celebration means you’ll never see them again.  It's more a parting, as she moves from one form to another, from this life to an eternal life.  I will see her again, someday. In the meantime I look forward to seeing her in my dreams.

On New Years Resolutions

Think whatever you want about new years resolutions, they help people take a stand to make a change in their lives, to re-route their course, to take advantage of the end of another year to start things off on a better foot.
We as humans have that innate desire to improve our lives. To go farther, to make more, to have more, and in that abundance enjoy life and all that we have to show for our hard work.  

My new years resolution is to continue my self-improvement that I started late 2009 in my constant effort to be the best version of myself so that what I have to show for my life's effort is not defined in one accomplishment or moment, but a long story full of love, joy, passion, laughter, and strength. We should live so that the story we leave behind is long and happy and memorable to those who have known us. And whether we choose to focus ourselves to live that way every day or re-focus ourselves on January 1st is our choice. What will you choose?

Sent from my iPhone

Pre-holiday post

Just like most professionals, I live my life in workweeks.

52 weeks in a year... 26 paychecks

3 weeks of vacation a year and subsequent dent in said paychecks.

One week till thanksgiving.

5 weeks till christmas.

Wait... one week till thanksgiving? why do I feel blindsided by it this year? Truthfully, I have felt an unusual amount of anxiety this year about the holidays, which may be why I can't seem to gear up like i usually do. I was expecting as usual to be excited about my black friday shopping, but then realized i don't have anything I want/need, or really have anyone to buy for except my nieces & nephews. even the prospect of getting a small christmas tree w/ my boyfriend has left me with little wind in my sails.

Last year thanksgiving was a difficult week for me, after which I was able to take an extended trip out to be with my friends and family to rejuvenate. January we had an unexpected death and then more rejuvenation. I  realize the older i get, the more I depend on my family to keep me grounded. Family afterall, is the one constant in our lives. They may not be perfect people but they always know what to say to make it better or when to not say anything and just listen. They ride the rollercoasters of our lives with us and pay the ticket with their love and sacrifice. Family are the ones who are like the rare breed of friend who always chooses you even when you turn your back on them.

I have really enjoyed introducing my family to my boyfriend...and believe me, he's met nearly the ENTIRE family...even the crazy ones (we all have those one or two crazies)...but we love them because they are still a part of us, a thread in the fabric that binds us together.

But more than this, my family is a projection of myself. We love music, we dance, we laugh, we yell, and cry. we did all this at my cousin Victoria's quinceañera. We make fun of each other (playfully, of course), we celebrate our victories, we rally around our favorite teams. We love wholeheartedly.

I thought I might need some kind of energy boost, or even a session with my therapist to get me out of my pre-holiday funk. But the truth is, I really just need time with those I love, who know me the best. Some family time, some laughter, and some good food will cure all. As for the turkey coma... that's another story.

My doctor, the sadist.

Around the time I was 24 I was diagnosed with hypertension. That's high blood pressure for those of you under 65. Since that moment I've been taking medication to lower said blood pressure to the regular 120 over 80 that you all walk around with.

At the time, though, I was fairly healthy so it seemed abnormal for me have high blood pressure so they put me through all the rigorous tests, threw scary terms like graves' disease at me, put me through kidney ultrasounds and retinal scans, all to come back with the cause being nothing more than genes. At the time I wasn't really physically active having settled into my desk job. I mean it was a lot more fun to hang out w/ friends after work and eat and drink beer than workout (imagine that).  So the doctor noticed I might've had a tiny pooch, at roughly 135 pounds, and suggested that I lose about 10 pounds.  He said "even 2 pounds is an added burden to your heart".  Well seeing as how he had the medical degree, and I didn't, I said that I'd see what I could do and promptly enrolled myself in a running program to help lose a few extra pounds. Several months later of what turned into a marathon training program I was able to whittle my way down to a whopping 130 pounds and decided I didn't care so much for running afterall and quit after crossing that finish line, of course.  And so began my never ending battle with those blasted 10 pounds.

After the marathon, it took me about a year to find the 5 pounds I had lost.  Then my next training program began, to obtain my Professional Engineer's license.  What was supposed to be a six month endeavor took the better part of 2 years and in that time I didn't make time to workout and proceeded to put on another 10 pounds.  Who has time to workout after a 9 hour workday, then either review class or studying, then actually taking the exam, and then sitting (and gaining more weight) for another 3 months in mental recovery while waiting for the results, only to start the process over again. Well once I did pass the exam, of course it was all about celebrating... and celebrate I did with more food / drink into yet another 5 pounds!  I know you're thinking 'ehhh... it happens to us all,' and I have to say I was one happy camper, until the day that I wasn't.

I remember that day too... sitting at work through the "biometrics" exam where the medical assistants come to the office and test our blood glucose and cholesterol levels, weigh us and print out our results including our Body Mass Index and tell you whether you're healthy or should see your doctor to improve.  In my case, my BMI came back "borderline overweight".  Ouch.  Nothing like cold hard numbers as if the ones on the scale or on the tag of my size 10 slacks weren't enough.  Now I had a physical flesh and blood person telling me that I was borderline overweight. How depressing!

Well you can believe the first thing I did (after setting down the bagel, naturally) was jump on a diet and exercise routine. So as to not shock my system I gradually eased myself into 2x a week at the gym, then 3, and then a strict low carb diet for 2 weeks, then a moderate low carb/high protein diet and a personal trainer.  Surprisingly it took only about 5 months to reverse 3 years of this battle.  20 pounds and 3 pant sizes later, I have been able to easily maintain by only somewhat watching what I eat while I keep my activity level up. Without the personal trainer I've found a new love for power yoga and zumba which I alternate throughout the week with weight training and a fun sport like soccer or softball.

So earlier today I stroll into my doctor's office in my slim little size 4 self, the thinnest I've been in many years and the healthiest too I might add.  First thing my doctor says without trying to sound creepy is "well you look really...uhh nice" (thanks!) and so we start on the subject of the blood pressure medication. Four years later and I tell him I'm seriously tired of taking prescription meds. I'm over it! Going to the pharmacy every month and battling the old lady to the front of the line because she may need her psoriasis cream but I have places to be seen in this new body and standing in line at the pharmacy isn't one of them!  At this point in my life I'm looking at a long road ahead (Lord willing) and I would love to be medication-free along the way until I'm just plain old, then medicare HAD BETTER BE THERE for my ailments.

He put back on his doctorly tone and said well, let's see what your blood pressure looks like now and I'd really like to see (and he pointed) "a little more off the midsection".  Ummm excuse me?!  No.  I laughed first, and second I told him NO.  Sorry buddy, but that just can't be done.  I'm not going to kill myself 6 days a week at the gym and go on a strict diet to get to 125 pounds! And sorry to tell you, I just don't want to be any skinnier than I am now.  That's just unhealthy.  My heart, and my doctor, are just going to have to deal with it. I mean really... this coming from the 6 foot tall super slim asian MALE doctor.  Yes. I wasn't aware doctors were prescribing eating disorders these days.

So here we are, at a healthy-ish blood pressure and a newly charged goal of keeping the weight off right at 130 pounds where I happily (and healthily) belong.