Take a Chance (or at the very least think about it)

by Tracey Flower

November was a weird month (and the first half of December too). An off month. A lost month. I didn’t write, not here and not enough, at least not for my own self. I did plenty of writing for the Vail Symposium’s winter brochure, which I absolutely loved doing, and to be honest I can’t go blaming my lack of posting on that. There’s really not much to blame it on, it was just a weird month and I just didn’t write.

But I’m back now and that’s what counts, right?

As I write this and look back at November, while safely tucked away into December, I shake my head at that month, and at myself in that month. I worried a lot in November. I worried about work and not having enough of it. I scraped the bottom of the barrel financially and ran on fumes. I worried about that. I fretted over my weight and over my complexion. I worried about finding a place to live as the December 1st expiration date on my summer residence approached. Once my roommate and I found a fabulous new place to live (that makes numbers 10 and 11 if you’re keeping track) I worried about how I was ever going to afford it.

Whew. That’s a lot of worry.

I don’t think I really realized how much of it I was carrying around, however, until I got a phone call the other day regarding a part time job prospect. See I’ve realized the only way I’m going to pull myself up from my financial rock bottom, the only way I’m going to afford my fabulous new place is by obtaining extra employment. But I’ve been worried extra employment won’t leave me enough time to balance all the things I love in my life.

Lately, worry has been showing up everywhere.

In that phone call I was presented with an opportunity for part time work that I can do in my own time, something I can balance with everything else I care about. I hung up the phone and felt unbelievably light. I felt dizzy with relief and it wasn’t until that moment that I realized just how much of a burden I had put on myself with all that worry.

As I was reveling in my relief, and shaking my head at myself for being so so silly, the guy came to clean the beer lines—I should mention here that I was at work, at my full time job bartending on Vail Mountain. Now, I should know this guy’s name by now, I’ve known him for years and he comes several times a season to clean and rinse the beer lines, but I’m terrible with names and that’s that.

We chatted about summer, about how it was and wasn’t, and how it’s always too short around here. He asked where I worked this summer, which prompted what has become a regular monologue on how discouraged I have become with the employment opportunities in the Valley, how I need something consistent for summers, or better yet, a year-round job. How I’ve thought about moving to Boulder in a year or two, but that I love living up here and if I did make that move, at least in the next couple years, it would likely be career-oriented. I babbled on and on, stopping when I realized I had gone from sharing to complaining.

The Beer Line Guy then told me that 10 years ago he had been in my shoes, bartending in Steamboat Springs, moaning about the exact same things. Feeling stuck. So he decided to take a chance and make a change. He started his beer line cleaning business (and whatever else it is his business does, I’m not totally clear on the details) and it turned out to be a smashing success. His advice to me, take a chance.  Make a move. You know what you want so do it.

Hmmmmmm. Beer Line Guy has a point.

Then I went to a yoga class in which the instructor told me the exact same thing, take a chance. You have the power inside you. Just take. A. Chance.

I’m not quite sure what to do with this advice yet, what chance to take or where to go with my dreams. But I’m thinking about it. I’m thinking about it a lot.

So that’s where I am after all that worry and at the end of 2011. Ready to bid adieu to the sweet year that was and welcome in a new one warmly. Ready to see what comes up and what chances are mine for the taking in 2012.

Had a Bad Day?

by Tracey Flower


I recently had a terrible horrible no good very bad day.

(That right there is a shout-out to the children’s book “Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day” by Judith Viorst, still LOVE IT).

It was a bad evening that sank into a bad night and catapulted me into a really bad day the next morning.

It went like this: Friday evening the boy I like rejected me (boo). I sulked on the couch all evening while it rained and stormed outside (for real, it was like a freaking Hemingway novel). I woke up Saturday morning and resolved to not focus on boys at all at the moment and instead focus on my fabulous new job as a receptionist and marketing assistant at a busy local salon. Then I got to work and by noon, following the most bizarre sequence of events I’ve ever witnessed in a workplace (another story for another time my friends), my fabulous new job came to a screeching slamming-on-the-breaks end. After only two weeks.

In the wake of the shocking end of my fabulous new job came the tidal wave of realization that my finances are a mess, that I am, in fact, broke and the thing I was counting on to revive my bank account was now nonexistent. Whew.

You know the "Friend’s" theme song (it’s by The Rembrandt’s)? The part that goes, Your job’s a joke/You’re broke/Your love life’s DOA? It was like that.

I felt blue.

But I don’t want to discuss the details of that lousy day as much as I want to talk about how I deal when things are crap.

First things first, I let myself feel really badly. I even go ahead and feel sorry for myself. I think there is something very healing in taking the time to notice and just sit with how I feel. The way I see it, even if I ignore my bad feelings, they’re still going to be there and it’s going to be uncomfortable either way, so I minus well acknowledge them and sit out the worst of it on my couch watching reruns of “Keeping up with the Kardashian’s” until that becomes more painful than whatever’s bugging me.

In the yoga classes I attend the instructors often encourage this method of sitting with it when we find ourselves holding a particularly challenging pose for longer than feels comfortable.

You’re probably feeling something in your legs right now, but that’s OK. That’s just discomfort, it’s just a little pain, just breathe and stay with it. 

The point is it’s only one moment. It’s temporary. And there is always something to be gained by staying; it could be it stronger muscles, looser hips or relieving back pain.

I think the same is true when it comes to emotional pain. There is always something to be gained by staying with it even though it hurts.

And what’s the alternative to feeling that pain? Numbness? Paralysis? Death? Feeling pain is part of being healthy and alive, and I for one am thrilled to be alive, and thrilled to experience everything that goes along with that, even if it hurts sometimes.

I also seek out friends and family members and talk about what happened and how it’s making me feel. Talking about what’s bothering me helps me. Period. And I am forever grateful to all the listening ears in my life. I would be lost without you.

And during it all I eat a bunch of junk (like a bag of the most offensive flavored Doritos you can imagine and lots of chocolate ice cream), listen to some sad songs and hide under a blanket (and watch “Teen Mom” reruns when I’ve exhausted all my Kardashian options) until I feel prepared to face the world again.

Eventually I shake off the blanket, go outside and move on.

That doesn’t always mean I feel totally better; whatever has made me feel sad, angry or disappointed will usually stick with me for a little bit, but after all that feeling sorry for myself I find a little perspective and realize the best way to banish those leftover emotions is to charge forward and check out new job listings, pick up extra shifts at the golf course, make a new budget plan, and, just maybe, meet Someone New.

As I move on I write. I go to yoga. I drink wine and spend time with my girlfriends.

I find my way back to Happy.


Life is crazy, wonderful, heartbreaking, challenging and beautiful. Throughout the journey we take chances and sometimes find the result isn’t what we hoped it would be. Hearts get broken. Pride gets wounded. Self esteem falls. My terrible horrible no good very bad day wasn’t the worst one I’ve ever had, and there will be better and worse days to come and that’s OK with me.

How do you cope when life leaves you feeling a bit blue?

Practice Makes Perfect

by Tracey Flower

I have to admit something.

I don’t post on Flower Blog as much as I’d like to, or even as much as I know I should.

But I’m trying to do better.

(Ahhhh balance. Photo Credit)

My goal when I started Flower Blog was to post bi-weekly; two posts a month. Some months have sprouted more, some less and I’ve rarely, if at all, hit a stride with the bi-weekly thing. After two years I’m still very green in the world of blogging. I’ve still got a lot to learn and have a lot of growing to do. And I’m well aware that in order to achieve great success in the blogosphere I should most certainly post more frequently and more consistently.

Sometimes I procrastinate. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I’m just too lazy. And, sometimes, just when I think I’m getting close to hitting that stride, life happens and I miss a step. Like, for example, this past winter when I got an internship with the Vail Symposium. Yep, I’ve spent the past six months as a 28-year-old unpaid intern, a venture that has left me working six-day weeks—and sacrificing some of my evenings too—to write press releases, website copy, articles, and volunteering at programs. It’s been a crazy busy blur but paid off with my first by-lines in the Vail Daily (six of them in fact) and the satisfying knowledge that I’m working toward becoming more than just a bartender. I know Flower Blog fits in there somewhere, somehow, between working for money and working for passion, I’m just still trying to find my balance with all of it.

I’m going to keep working on finding my stride in this, my third year of blogging, with this posting thing. After all, third time’s the charm, right? And if I’ve learned anything from my Yoga practice it’s that the operative word is just that; practice. I’m not perfect but I’ll keep trying and keep doing the prep for each pose along the way and, eventually, I’ll conquer blogging (and maybe even a headstand).

In the meantime I need your help on a couple things.

I love and appreciate your comments so much and because of that I’d like to ask a couple favors. First if you’re a fellow writer or blogger and you have any advice that might help me find my blogging stride give me a holler and share the wealth of your experience. 


Second what should I write about next? I’d like to write some posts on topics you want to read about. Is there an old post on a subject you’d like to read more about? Is there an idea you’d like to hear me wrap my writing brain around? I’d like to know. So throw out some suggestions.

In Defense of my Inner Girly Girl

by Tracey Flower

A male friend of mine recently saw my stack of fashion and beauty magazines on my coffee table. He gave me a disapproving look and a short lecture about reading such useless fluff. I laughed him off and told him to let it go, it’s my thing. I have to admit, though, his comments kind of bugged me. I’ve been reading fashion and beauty magazines since I was a preteen. I used to buy Seventeen and clearance makeup from MacDonald’s Drug Store and spend Saturday afternoons studying the magazine for tips on how to apply the makeup. And it makes my day every month when I find a new issue of Glamour in my post office box. I’ve never really thought twice about these little guilty pleasures but after my friend’s comments I can’t help but wonder; is this something I’m supposed to be ashamed about?

I’ve always been a girly girl. My dad likes to tell a story about me on my first day of Kindergarten. I stood in front of my dresser with all the drawers open, threw my hands up in the air and declared, “I have nothing to wear.” Not much has changed since then.

I like to shop and get all dolled up. I like to get cozy with a cup of tea and read about boots and handbags (and the real life stories in those magazines too, it’s not all fluff, you know). And I like to give myself facials and pedicures. It just plain feels good and, more than that, it’s part of who I am and I’m not going to apologize for just being myself.

Why, then, do I feel the need to defend my guiltless enjoyment of my guilty pleasures?

Perhaps it was the conversation my fluff-hating friend and I were having before he saw my magazine stash. I had been going on and on about all the things I want to do with my life, mainly travel, write and change the world. I gave this grand speech about how I want to make something good of my recent heartache and use this as an opportunity to grow and really better myself. And more than that I want to help other people because there are so many people who have it even worse than me (I told him this as if I had stumbled on some grand original light-shedding idea). I think he believed me until he saw my magazines.

I really do want all those things for my life. And I really do want to put some good out into the world. Stories of violence and poverty absolutely break my heart and I feel compelled to do something somehow someday to help ease the pain of others.

BUT I think it’s equally important to take care of myself, of my pain and my happiness.

I was in a yoga class a few months and the instructor shared a quote that is very relevant to my argument here but unfortunately I have forgotten the exact wording (and the quoted’s name but I’m pretty sure it was either Ghandi or the Dalai Lama). The message, however, was along the lines of this; you should go out into the world and take care of others but you first must take care of yourself because you’ll never be able to help others if you don’t first help yourself.

Embracing my inner girly girl is part of taking care of myself. I must also exercise, go to work, sleep, meditate, and write (and, yes, maintain a balance of those things and more). The magazines I read might be full of fluff and it might seem frivolous to paint my toenails or shallow that I get so very excited about finding the perfect boots on sale but it’s part of who I am and taking the time to nurture that part of me supports my mental health (and helps me hang on to at least a little bit of sanity), which in turn ensures that I can better focus on putting some good out into the world.


What about you? What guilty pleasures do you feel guiltless about? What silly things keep you sane, ensuring that you can better focus on putting some good out there?

From Ending to Beginning

by Tracey Flower

There’s something in the air around here at the moment (and, no, I’m not talking about all the recent engagements of certain Vail couples I know, I think that must be something in the water). There’s something in the air that just arrived in the last week or so. Can you smell it? Can you feel it? Somewhere in the last couple weeks the seasons clicked and we moved from summer into fall. We had summer, it was really hot, sunny and wonderful and I’m quite sure there are some oh so sweet Indian Summer days in store for us in the months to come but there’s something in the breeze now that is whispering the end of summer.

Fall in Vail: I'm looking forward to days like this one

It’s been rainy and notably cooler in Vail recently and, while afternoon storms are a trademark of late-July early-August weather around here, the way the clouds have been lingering in and around the peaks and valleys before and after the rain just looks like fall and seems to promise snow. A friend of mine said he even saw a dusting on the Gore last week. The nights and early mornings are cold and even though I still felt hot sitting in the sun outside my apartment today, the breeze rattling the soon-to-be yellow leaves on the aspens around me was marked with a chill that wasn’t there a week ago.

I have to admit that I love this time of year, I love that slight chill and those cool rainy days, but man I love summer even more and this weather’s got me really thinking about just how fleeting summer is here and just how sad I am to see it go this year.

A few weeks ago I spent my days off floating down the Colorado River and hiking up Vail Mountain. By my Sunday night I was covered in mosquito bites, a little sunburned and exhausted. Now I know there are all sorts of warnings out there about both mosquitoes (West Nile!) and sunburns (Melanoma!) and I generally try to heed the advice of medical professionals but, as I relaxed with a glass of iced tea in my third floor (meaning very hot) apartment, I realized I felt so warm, summery and happy in that moment almost because of those dangerous ailments. Ok maybe all the sunshine, heat and river water contributed to my summery feeling, but my bites and burns reminded me of being a kid in summer.

Summer is such a carefree time when we’re children, when there’s no school or job to worry about and the months of June, July and August are practically endless; when we fall into bed at the end of the day, bites, burns and all, exhausted after a sun-soaked day of running through sprinklers and chasing ice cream trucks. As an adult I think summer is one of the only times (next to Christmas) when I feel like I can truly channel some of that pure childhood bliss.

I love summer. I crave summer. And this year especially I needed summer. I needed some childlike simplicity, even a tiny bit, in my life. The last month of sleepy hot summer days has confirmed I made the right decision by not staying in Melbourne. I might still have some more healing to do but summer in Vail has been so helpful and healing for me so far that the last couple days have scared me a little. I keep thinking I need more time with summer this year.

I went to a yoga class this morning (for the second time ever, the last time being years ago, this time with the intent of making it a routine) and the instructor talked about cycles. She mentioned how we often don’t notice beginnings; they’re often hidden in the wake of an ending and we don’t know we’ve started another cycle until we’re already in it. This thought has stuck with me all day and I can’t help but think about how it relates to the seasons at the moment. It’s technically still summer and will be for another month and a half but I have a feeling that hidden in there somewhere is the beginning of fall and, as I desperately cling to summer and as I continue to muddle my way through a definite ending, I’m also going to try to find some footing and assurance in the idea that it's very possible I’m also working my way through a beginning.


Do you think there's a beginning hidden in your life right now?