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?

On Goals, Forgiveness, and Turning 28

by Tracey Flower

“Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate. Without them what would shape our lives? Perhaps if we never veered off course we wouldn’t fall in love or have babies or be who we are. After all seasons change. So do cities. People come into you life and people go. But it’s comforting to know the ones you love are always in your heart and, if you’re very lucky, a plane ride away.” ~The ever-wise, albeit fictional, Carrie Bradshaw (“Sex and the City”)


Many folks take the start of a new calendar year as an opportunity for fresh starts and change. Personally I think it’s more appropriate to make resolutions on my birthday. It feels more natural to take stock of my life that time of year, to review lessons learned in the past year, and to make a few goals for the year ahead.

A year ago last week (my birthday was Tuesday) I turned 27 and decided I was going to make the year all about me (The Year of Flower I called it in my journal and aloud to a select group of friends). I don’t have any dependents, not even a dog or a goldfish, to rely on me; my life in general is already pretty much all about Tracey, but for most of my adult life (aka my life since college) I have been in some form of a relationship. I moved to Colorado for a boyfriend and shortly after we broke up I started another serious relationship and, as my 27th birthday approached, I started to get the feeling I wasn’t totally making decisions for my life based on what I wanted and needed.

My birthday last year came just days after the guy I was in love with left Vail to move home to Australia. Our relationship over the past few months had been complicated and tumultuous and because I was so invested in, so wrapped up in, him emotionally I found my day-to-day actions and decisions were heavily influenced by him. It seemed like the perfect time, then, when he left and my birthday arrived for me to take charge. 

I made myself a list of goals. First and foremost I was going to get my head straight about that relationship. The first goal I wrote in my journal then was to be “happily single.” We had left things very casual and, although he was on my mind when I wrote that, I was fed up with myself for letting another person inadvertently control my thoughts and decisions to the extent that he had. I also wrote that I wanted to learn to cook, to get fit, to get paid to write, and to travel somewhere new. The Year of Flower was going to be a good one.

The first half of the year, the first third really, went exactly how I had hoped it would (OK except for the cooking part, I’m still working on that one). I will even say it was the happiest, the most content, and the most confident I have been in a long time. The last four months of the year, however, were a complete disaster. Quite honestly they were the worst four months of my life (if you read Flower Blog on a regular basis you know this. If you don’t now’s probably a good time to catch up. Start here). As I approached my 28th birthday last week and mentally reviewed the last year, and checked back in with last year’s goals, I realized I was right smack dab back where I had been a year ago. And that pissed me off.

I got my heart broken. No shattered. No ripped out, stomped on, and shoved back into my chest all achy and torn apart. And for that I was pissed. My anger wasn’t directed at The Guy though; or rather my anger was no longer directed at him (don’t you worry three months ago I was oozing anger toward him). I was pissed off with myself. I was pissed that I let myself, in the year where I was supposed to be taking control, find myself in a position (with a guy who had broken my heart once before) where I could get as hurt as I did. I was pissed that even while I thought I was finding this great balance in my life, while I thought I was being unapologetically selfish and, dare I say it, finding myself, I let my love for this one stupid guy ruin everything. 

My dad told me a few months ago, when I was at my very worst, that even as I struggled to figure out how to forgive The Guy (not because he deserves or even needs my forgiveness but simply because it’s very tiresome to carry around that much anger toward someone for any length of time) that I was also going to have to forgive myself. At the time I had no idea what he meant (the situation wasn’t my fault, I had done nothing wrong). I think I get it now, though.

There’s a line in the book Eat, Pray, Love that goes like this; “To lose balance sometimes for love is part of living a balanced life.” The author tells herself this when she realizes she has fallen in love with a man after a year spent traveling solo, doing some serious soul-searching, and finding her balance. I agree with that, but I would take it a step further and say sometimes you have to become unbalanced for love even if it means risking your heart. Because apparently, OK admittedly, you'll learn some serious lessons about life and yourself. I don’t know if acknowledging that counts as forgiving myself, because to be honest I’m still a little pissed, but I think maybe it’s a start. And with that shaky start I begin a new year.

NEO for Customers Part Three: Give Respect Get Respect

by Tracey Flower

Thank you for joining me back this week for my last post in my New Employee Orientation for Customers series. Last week I discussed three basic rules to abide by when visiting, say, your local coffee shop. This week I’d like to offer three basic suggestions for more even more peace and harmony when frequenting said coffee shop.

Listen. Think. And then respond. Allow me to describe a scenario that happens on a daily basis in Starbucks. Customer A orders, pays for, and steps aside to wait for his grande nonfat latte. Customer B orders, pays for, and steps aside to wait for her iced venti unsweetened green tea. After making Customer A’s drink, the barista places the beverage on the counter and says “grande nonfat latte” but Customer A is in the restroom so he doesn’t pick up the drink right away. The barista moves on to make the next drink in line, assuming Customer A will retrieve his drink when he exits the bathroom. However Customer B, who is standing next to the counter, picks up the latte, takes a sip, makes a face, and says to the barista “this isn’t what I ordered.” By this time Customer A has returned from the restroom and is looking for his coffee. The barista says, “no ma’am it isn’t, it’s what he ordered.” This sort of scene happens ALL THE TIME. ‘Nuff said.

(Oh and I’m sorry but yes I do think that half-caf triple venti two pump sugar free vanilla nonfat with whip caramel macchiato does make you less of a man).

Please stop complaining about the price. Please. I’ve spent some time filling in as a cashier at various dining venues on Vail Mountain. It’s a tedious job to begin with but nothing drains the moral of a cashier faster than customers complaining about the price of their meal. I’ve been yelled at, cursed at, and laughed at for telling folks the grand total of their lunch. It’s expensive to eat on Vail Mountain. Period. A cheeseburger will cost you eight to ten dollars and that doesn’t even include fries. And, yes, the Starbucks in Vail Village is pricier than the one in your hometown (it will even run you a dollar or so more than another Starbucks just ten miles down the road from here). I acknowledge and agree with you that Vail’s frickin’ expensive. Believe me it’s no cheaper to live here than it is to visit, I feel your pain people. But I live here because I love it here. It doesn’t get much better aesthetically and the lifestyle can’t be beat so I’m OK with paying a little extra for things. Don’t you agree? If you can’t see my point of view on that, at least consider this: the cashier is most likely just a cashier and therefore didn’t set the price of that five-dollar Gatorade. In fact she probably has absolutely no control over the price and doesn’t see any of the profit made off it. And she certainly has no authority to change it. So please consider that before you rip into her about it. And by the way if she, by chance, does have the authority to offer you a discount, you stand a way better chance of receiving that discount if you resist the urge to complain.

Which brings me to my final point.

Give respect get respect. Have you seen the movie Waiting? There’s a scene where the wait staff and the kitchen staff join forces to seek revenge on an unpleasant customer by doing ungodly things to her meal. The moral of the story is don’t screw with the people who have control over your food. While I’ve never taken things to that extreme (nor have I ever witnessed anything on that level) it’s a good idea to keep this story in the back of your mind. I realize sometimes we mess up and something isn’t how you expected it to be. My message isn’t that you don’t say something it’s that you speak up in a manner that is considerate and respectful. Chances are you’ll get the same attitude in return.

NEO for Customers Part Two: The Basics

by Tracey Flower

Hello and welcome back to New Employee Orientation for Customers. In my last post I discussed the notion that some of the folks I have come in contact with over my years of serving coffee have forgotten (or perhaps never learned) how to behave in public places. So I decided after a New Employee Orientation class I recently attended for my current job that perhaps the general public could benefit from hearing the some of the same tips and reminders I was given in that course. Let’s get started.

Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot. While bartending at a restaurant on top of the mountain last winter a woman asked me if we served lattes. Before I had a chance to respond, she said something along the lines of “lattes are, you know, the ones with all the milk.” Her tone of voice suggested she thought she was talking to a toddler. Now of course this woman had no idea that I’ve worked in coffee shops since college and have made (and drank) about a bazillion lattes in that time. I didn’t expect her to know that. But the presumption in her tone that I was either an infant or an idiot offended me.

The woman running the orientation class spent a good portion of it discussing how we should talk to guests, she even gave us a list of everyday lingo we should avoid using (words and phrases such as “hello” and “how’s it going”). Apparently we are to assume our guests are well-educated and we must talk up to their level. Similarly I would like to ask our guests to assume that I too have half a brain and would appreciate it if you spoke to me accordingly.

Your mother (or maid or husband or wife or personal servant) doesn’t work here so please clean up after yourself. It was stressed in orientation that as employees of Vail Resorts and the Arrabelle we’re expected to dress and present ourselves a certain way; neat and tidy uniform, no visible piercings or tattoos, no unnatural hair color, and we must always appear clean and smell freshly scrubbed. It seems like a no-brainer that one should not come to work un-showered but I suppose there is some idiot out there who made a habit of it and out of fear of encountering more such idiots, they decided to take action.

The same goes for cleaning up after yourself in public places; it should be a no-brainer. Yes it is part of my job to keep my workspace clean, to buss tables and sweep the floor but it’s just rude and sloppy to create a mess and make no effort to clean it up. If you drop a napkin or a straw wrapper on the floor (right next to a trash bin) please pick it up. If your kid spills an entire hot chocolate on the floor please apologize and let me know and I’ll clean it up (see, there’s that symbiotic relationship respect thing). And for the love of God people I don’t know what is happening in public restrooms across America but after a summer spent cleaning up you-don’t-even-want-to-know off the toilets in Starbucks I am baffled. The only two conclusions I can draw here are that either your bathroom at home is disgusting or there is someone waiting outside to clean it after every time you use it. Whatever the case, please have a little respect, if not for me who has to clean up after you, then at least for the person who enters the stall next.

No cell phones while ordering. In orientation it was made clear that the use of cell phones by employees is strictly forbidden in guest areas. I get this. It’s common manners and easy enough to abide by (just because you can talk to anyone anywhere doesn’t mean you should). So I ask you, dear customer, to please please pretty please extend the same courtesy when you’re ordering your coffee.

While this list is certainly not exhaustive I consider these three points to be at the very top of the list and I think if we all took the time to consider them in restaurants, coffee shops, or even the supermarket we would all be on our way to more pleasant customer service experiences. Check back next week for my third and final post in this series.


Do you have a funny/horrible/heartwarming customer service (as either the one serving or the one being waited on) story to share? Is there anything you would add to this list?

New Employee Orientation for Customers Part One

by Tracey Flower

There was a very impatient woman in Starbucks the other day. It was a slow Sunday and there was only one customer ahead of her, I was busy listening to the requests of customer number one when Impatient Woman interrupted to suggest I make her drink first. I told her that here at Starbucks we try to operate on a first-come first-served basis and since there was no denying that customer one was, indeed, first, I was going to make her drink first. She retaliated with something along the lines of, “ok but I’ve got a cranky two-year-old outside.”

This is coffee not brain surgery, no need for impatience. (Photo credit).

That wasn’t the first time Impatient Woman had been in Starbucks in the last few weeks. The first time she marched up to the cashier stand to order, oblivious to the line of people waiting who were there before her. She used her two-year-old as an excuse that time too. Personally I’ve never seen the kid and I’m not totally convinced he exists, if he does I’m not sure why she’s parking him outside alone (which is what I assume she’d done given her frantic state). Either way I, quite frankly, don’t care. If Starbucks was an emergency room and her two-year-old was bleeding or dying her behavior would be appropriate. But it’s not. Starbucks is a coffee shop and there’s just no need for that kind of urgency there, especially when it involves a phantom child. This woman is just one example of what us Starbucks employees deal with on a daily basis. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and I’ve come to the conclusion that perhaps some people just haven’t been taught how to behave in public places.

I recently attended New Employee Orientation for the Arrabelle resort. (There are two Starbucks in Vail; both require you to be an employee of the Arrabelle, which is owned by Rock Resorts, which is owned by Vail Resorts). The seminar included a tour of the extravagant Arrabelle hotel and residences, a catered lunch, and a laundry list of dos and, mostly, don’ts for Arrabelle employees. I left feeling like I had left a little of my soul under the table in that conference room and wondering why such presentations aren’t given to those who don’t work in the service industry but enjoy visiting such establishments. You know, a sort of New Employee Orientation for guests.

In orientation we were asked to share stories about ourselves as guests and give specific examples of both good and bad customer service we’ve experienced. I would like to ask the guests out there to do the same, except consider how the customer treated the employee in those situations. Respect, patience, and common courtesy go both ways and, just as everyone has experienced poor customer service, I think everyone has also witnessed the reverse. The relationship between barista and coffee-drinker, front desk agent and guest, lift operator and skier is a symbiotic one, we need one another and we couldn’t exist without one another in these situations. And just as sometimes I need to remind myself of that fact and shape up my attitude when I’m at work, I think folks on the other side of the counter should do the same from time to time.

It’s my personal belief, and one widely shared among those in service and hospitality jobs, that everyone should have to work a customer service job at least once. Since I really don’t see that happening, I’d like to take it upon myself to offer a few suggestions for making folks’ experience as a customer a more pleasant experience for all of us. I’m going to make this a three-part series so stay tuned as I intend to share my little nuggets of wisdom with you in my next two posts. In the meantime, read about two eccentric yet well-behaved customers I waited on in the past in One-way Ticket to Denver and Romanian Mami.

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? 

All About Family

by Tracey Flower

In my last post I talked about how my friends and I are all growing up and I mentioned some of the events of the last couple years that helped lead me to that conclusion. After I wrote that I got to thinking about those events and more, and I realized I don’t want to mention tough times without also talking about the people who have helped me through them. I’m talking about family here, both the people who I am tied to because of birth and blood and the people I am tied to because of friendships that have weathered time and, well, growing up.

I love being alone but I hate being lonely. This has been true for most of my life but I’ve only realized it in probably the last five years. I’m still trying to figure out how to maintain a balance between being alone and being lonely. I’ve always been content to entertain myself, whether spending time alone was something I elected to do or something that found me. The older I get the more I seek it out. The older I get I also realize more and more that for all the time I spend alone I need to give myself an almost equal amount of time with other people. I’ve also realized I gain more from my time alone when it’s balanced by time with others, it’s more purposeful and I appreciate it more. I think, perhaps, had I known that secret during my teen years I might have spent at least a little less time being so very depressed in high school.

Thing is I didn’t have the family structure in high school that I have now to be the un-lonely weight on the scale. Yes I had my mom, dad, and siblings and one or two good friends but even those relationships weren’t as strong then as they are now. Truth is it’s very difficult to have the kind of relationships we have as adults in high school, the kind of relationships that form when we decide to care less about appearance or background and more about who a person is and how we both benefit from what one has to offer the other and the world; the kind of relationships that keep you from sinking or floating away during the darkest of dark moments.

I have that now. I wrote a few months ago, after I left Vail for Australia and before everything fell apart, about how I realized that Vail is home for me. With that came the realization that my friends in Vail are family to me. We celebrate holidays together, take vacations together, live together, and work together. We’re all different kinds of people from different places and, like the people who share my DNA, we’re sometimes very different, we sometimes annoy one another, and we don’t always get along but somehow there’s an inexplicable love that binds us. In retrospect that realization couldn’t have come at a better time, I’ve never needed home or family more than I have in the last few months.

In the wake of my heartbreak came messages, phone calls, and support from all the people in my life I consider family, even from friends here and there I didn’t even know cared so much (second or third cousins when talking in terms of family). Everyone from my little brother to my college roommate to my international clan of girlfriends in Vail was there for me. And they still are. And knowing that, being able to lean on all that un-loneliness, has kept me anchored enough to avoid floating away. I had a thought the other day that somehow the knowledge that there are so many people who love me takes my focus off, and almost makes up for, the one person who doesn’t.


What about you? Who is your family? How and when have they kept you anchored?