Dreaming of returning to paradise…

living in Costa RicaI had a dream last night, in more vivid colors than I could ever imagine in my brown desert town. Yes, there are the glitzy lights of the Las Vegas Strip, but this was different: in my pre-dawn adventure, I was looking skyward at five layers of magnificent, magic-kissed tropics of the brightest greens and the bluest blues. The weirdest part of the whole thing was that I ended up there, I don’t know how, and met some sort of tour guide to this wonderful place through my mother. And to my surprise: Wow! I had had this woman’s name and phone number on my vanity mirror for a year but had never got around to calling. I didn’t feel relief in my dream, oh my, I almost missed finding paradise. Instead, it was more like, look at that: two paths, same ending.

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Post-adventure high

Abby Tegnelia

Tired but happy

I’ve mentioned several times how energized I feel after travel of any kind, an almost post-adventure high. That touch of magic I feel by doing something new or experiencing a place far from home gets me hyped up to tackle whatever is in front of me — even if what I have next is just another day at the office. Hyper, smiley, talkative: all of those cheesy words apply. I just think that getting out of your comfort is the coolest thing. No matter how tired I am, it is a different tired, a more satisfied one than I get from beaten down by too many days at work, as much as I love what I do as a magazine editor.

Not everyone is like me.

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My Life of Extremes: Humor and Workaholism

Abby Tegnelia workaholism

Random funny pic unrelated to my blog rant on workaholism. (My friend isn’t crazy, just Canadian.)

Workaholism is a funny thing, and all of my female friends handle it the same way: by completely shutting down on the weekends. I’m not saying it’s the healthiest thing, but sometimes it is funny. And today, for better or worse, I thought I’d share. All of my friends with jobs like mine, that entail a full workload plus evenings of events and business dinners, power through the workweek running on empty. Then when it’s time to make plans with our free time on the weekends, it’s like pulling teeth to get us off the couch. But that doesn’t stop us from texting! (In fact, it may be the only time we’ve had all week to “catch up.”) How we manage to text all day long about absolutely nothing really is a gift, one I fear is shared only with bored teenagers. But why keep these talents to ourselves?

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My on-again, off-again love affair with NYC

New York CityI lived in New York City for five years — as long as I’ve lived anywhere my entire life. And yet, I’ve barely visited recently. The reasons are two-fold: my practical aversion is that after years in Austin, Vegas, LA and Costa Rica, I don’t have any winter clothes, which limits when I can visit the place I called home. The second reason? My most recent trip there a year ago had been a disaster. My best friends spoil me, visiting Vegas often (and indulging me fun trips to places like Hoover Dam), when not getting married in Maui or throwing a bachelorette party in South Beach. So, I avoided visiting Manhattan. Until a recent trip to New York changed everything…

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Life Lessons from Elvis the Horse

life lessons from Wyatt Webb at Miraval

Life lessons from cleaning a hoof?

When I called Miraval a “summer camp for adults” I wasn’t kidding. It offers life lessons workshops via everything from zip-lining to primal drumming, plus more traditional activities like hiking and yoga. While I did make it to yoga, I also wanted to try some things way out of my comfort zone. I eased into that with a class called “It’s Not About the Horse,” by the world-renowned Wyatt Webb. Last fall, I overcame my fear of horses enough to ride a very tame one at the Grand Canyon Ranch. So I figured I could handle whatever they threw at me. Every single person I talked to about Miraval told me I had to take this class. So off I went.

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What’s In a Name?

The good life: Hammock and lush greenery. Bad side: nature means critters.

Maybe by now it’s sort of obvious how I got the ridiculous nickname “Jungle Princess,” but for my last post about my recent trip to Costa Rica, I thought I’d explain — and show how far I’ve come. As with everything these days (haha) it all started online. My friend Mike had signed me up on Twitter the day before I left my Las Vegas friends for the jungles of Costa Rica. I finally got into it a few months in, but all of the travel folks were confused… Where was my blog? they asked. (My what?!) Since my tweets were all about scorpions, spiders, monkeys, rain and not wearing high heels… Diana of DTravelsRound finally publicly tweeted something along the lines of, “Come on, jungle princess, you’re starting a blog tomorrow.”

So I did.

 

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