Britt Skrabanek

Step Away From Your Screen and Rest Your Eyes

The phrase “screen time” has become a popular addition to our vocabulary over the past year or so. I mentioned it in my New Year’s post about positive intentions, and how I have made many changes to avoid living too much of my life behind a screen.

Quite a few of you had the same goal. I was chatting with a good friend of mine recently, who is a decade younger than me, and she too mentioned she wanted to step away from the screen this year.

It’s tough. And it’s especially tough when you’re a writer.

While it’s wonderful to mix it up and put pen to paper, feel that organic yumminess of scribbling away without staring at a monitor, we can’t escape the fact that computers make our writing efficient as hell.

In today’s world, it’s next to impossible to escape screens entirely. Most of us—yours truly included—have jobs where we peck away at a keyboard for 8-10 hours a day, eyes dutifully trained on a bright screen.

Now we have smartphones. I won’t knock them, because they have given us the opportunity to have technology at our beck and call. But naturally there are downsides to that…even more screen time.

And, if you watch TV or play video games when you’re relaxing. Guess what? More screen time.

Writers who are working on novels and/or blogging and/or keeping up with social media, are even more susceptible to screen life. The majority of us have full-time jobs, and our nights and weekends are spent behind a screen, because this is the tool we are using to move forward with our dreams.

The reality of screen time floors me often. I’ll never forget telling my parents over and over again—as a child, as a teen, and even my early years in college—I don’t want a “computer job.” They were both successful in the aerospace industry, but I only saw what they did as one of those computer jobs I wanted to avoid.

My parents both love to tease me about that, because look at me now—I have a computer job. Actually, I have a few.

This morning I performed my usual Saturday dance…what to do, what to do. I’m usually still wound up from the workweek, feeling behind on anything related to my personal writing that I have abandoned throughout the hectic week—my second draft and my blog, keeping up with my fellow writers’ blogs and social media updates.

Make the choice to step away from your screen. When you do, here are two of my favorite eye resting tips. You can do one without ever leaving your desk.

GET YOUR ASS OUTSIDE

Living in Portland, I know that I am lucky to have beautiful nature nearby to entice me away from my screen. The weather, despite the incessant gloom and rain, is pretty easy to deal with year-round.

Hiking is my weapon of choice for combating too much screen time. But even if you don’t have trails, you can go for a run or walk in your neighborhood or park. Though I live in the city, I find even a run in the urban chaos is enough to clear my head and rest my eyes, versus spending hours working on my computer.

If you can, find some nature to stare at for a while. Greenery and water are especially soothing for your eyes. I often notice my whole body breathe a sigh of relief the moment my eyes meet nature.

PALM YOUR EYES

Yeah, so you might have been wondering about the weird ass picture of me with my hands over my eyes up there. I’m doing something legit, promise. It’s an amazing Yoga move, called eye palming.

Didn’t know there was Yoga for your eyes? Dude, I didn’t either.

The first time I tried eye palming was in a Yin class, and I was so stunned by the immediate results. I showed this to my coworkers at our morning huddle and asked them all to join me. They already know I’m batshit crazy, so they played along.

What’s great about eye palming is you can do it anywhere, anytime. When you’re at work or you’re jamming on your novel and you can’t get away, simply rub your hands together and place your palms over your eyes for a bit.

If you still feel like your eyes need more resting time—or you just feel really damn good and you have another minute—repeat.

I’d love to know…what tips do you guys have for limiting screen time?

How to Survive Vegas When You’re Not in Your 20’s

The moment you get off the plane, you just know it. You’re in another world…Las Vegas.

You battle vertigo as the lights of slot machines and giant screens promising riches, excitement, and sex greet you around every corner of the airport terminal. You walk faster and faster, charged by the insanity, unable to resist that pull.

It’s time to f*cking party.

We were returning to the scene of the crime for the Consumer Electronics Show (CES)—we hadn’t been to Vegas since we got hitched there WAY back in 2005. One of our taxi drivers congratulated us with a high-five for everlasting love, against the odds.

So, yeah. Back then we were pups. This time we weren’t. But when you have to attend a conference in Disneyland for adults, you need to leave your healthy treehugger Yogi ass back in Portland and prepare yourself for lung and liver debauchery.

Before I get into the debauchery, I’ll tell you that our late afternoon flight got canceled and we had to hang out at PDX for four hours. Thankfully, Portland has been voted the best airport in America the past few years.

They made a big deal about the new carpet, but we didn’t give two shits about that. What we did give two shits about? Organic food options, clean water fountains with water bottle filling stations, and good beer.

We so Portland.

AIRPLANE DELAY TIP: No matter how annoyed you are, drink two beers and play on the people mover.

Because all of the hotels were sold out by the time Mr. H booked a room for the conference, we ended up at the Golden Nugget. Downtown Vegas, away from the shiny Strip, is more our speed anyway.

Anyone from Southern California will likely alarm you by telling you they grew up in Vegas. I did. It was a regular vacation for me and my dad. It’s an easy drive, and back then it used to be cheap.

Give me some old Vegas any day. I miss the seediness of it all—that’s the history and the culture, like it or not.

What I wouldn’t give for the sound of filthy coins spitting out of the machines. I came to expect that sound, and loved it in some strange way. That’s long gone now, having been replaced by TITO (ticket-in, ticket-out). Only a few of these noisy, dirty slots still exist in the old casinos…good luck finding them.

Bedraggled and exhausted, we were floored when we were offered an upgrade. With such a late check-in, we half-expected no room, not this.

LATE CHECK-IN TIP: No matter how tired you are, be nice to the front desk person and you may be rewarded. (I know, I used to be one.)

It was like being in one of those wild Vegas movies, but in the 1970s. That’s what the high-roller two-level suite in the Spa Tower looked like anyway.

The suite was banged up, well-abused by misfits doing God knows what over the years, spruced up with gaudy accents and art. I won’t even post the picture of the “chandelier” on the bottom floor, because the mini lampshades and beige tapestries will upset all of you. Shitty chic would be considered a compliment.

There were mirrors everywhere, above the bed (blush) and in the bathroom, so you could watch yourself use the bidet. Yep, we had one.

Our old asses had two choices after we unpacked and sprayed down the room with our antibacterial Thieves spray.

Eat a late dinner and pass out.
Eat a late dinner and go out.

We were in Vegas. You know exactly which one we chose.

We don’t go out anymore. Been there, done that…many, many times.

However, a friend who was being wooed by some old clients invited us to free bottle service at a popular nightclub, Light. We tried and failed to get into a club many moons ago when we were there for our wedding.

To get into a Vegas club, you need to:

know someone that works there
have a table with bottle service
be a regular stripper/dealer/prostitute/escort/high-roller

We had a table, so why the hell not? We knew we would get in and drinks were free. We also knew we were far from the age of 21, and the only way we were going to make it was with sushi and green tea.

PRE-GAMING TIP: No matter how “Vegas, woohoo!” you are, eat a power dinner and save the booze for later.

I was the only woman at Light without a micro mini dress and thick black eyeliner. About a half hour in, I knew I had to drink faster if I was going to be able to take anymore. The neon lasers were making me schizo and I had surpassed my annual quota of butt cheek sightings—mind you, it’s only the first week of the year.

A few cocktails later, I danced a bit and began enjoying the people-watching. And just like the old days, we closed the place down at 4am.

NIGHTTIME ANTI-HANGOVER TIP: No matter how wasted you are, chug water all night and eat a gigantic greasy breakfast at hotel (ours was Claim Jumper) before bed.

The next morning/afternoon we woke up mostly intact. Mr. H pushed the button next to the bed and the drapes creaked and moaned as they drew open to reveal the best thing about our upgraded room…the kick-ass view. Snow-capped mountains to the right, pool just below.

MORNING ANTI-HANGOVER TIP: No matter how pathetic you feel, chug more water, eat that organic apple you were smart enough to bring from home, double fist coconut water and a dirty chai, then take a well-deserved hot shower.

The main reason I accompanied Mr. H on the biz trip was to see this girl…

…my childhood best friend, Laura. Now a Vegas native, I hadn’t seen her in 18 years. Girlish excitement was an understatement.

Because I had a business dinner to attend that evening, the usual non-stop Vegas day-drinking was out of the question. Hanging out by the awesome Golden Nugget pool and watching people go down the shark tank chute—also not an option. In January, the desert gets mighty cold.

We all ate delicious pepperoni pizza at Pizza Rock, then Mr. H traipsed off to the conference. Before he left, he said: “Now don’t you two Irish girls get into too much trouble.”

We nodded obediently. But, we still had a few beers downtown that afternoon. Walking down Fremont Street, thrillseekers flew overhead on the zipline, while a poor man’s Spongebob waved next to a half-naked gypsy woman wearing an open robe with nipple pasties.

With a pleasant buzz, we headed over to my kind of attraction, one that can be enjoyed year-round…the Neon Museum.

Vegas isn’t exactly known for preserving history, but this non-profit is doing just that. Lovingly called the Neon Boneyard, visitors can only view the signs under the supervision of their tour guide.

I’ve been to many different museums in my life—from Dachau to the Louvre, from the Guggenheim to Pearl Harbor—but this museum was strict. You are not allowed out of the tour guide’s sight for a second. If you have to go to the restroom, you have to ask. And if you think you’re going to be drinking a monster cocktail in a bright plastic carafe with a crazy straw, think again.

The Neon Museum is probably the only dry place in the city. It makes sense that they have to use precautions to protect the signs from sloshed individuals who might be tempted to mount them for the sake of an epic social media pic before slicing their leg open on a rusty edge.

There are day tours and night tours, and I’ve heard they are both amazing. Not all the signs light up, but the ambience at night is hard to beat. Plus, the darkness conquered by blinding neon gives off that true Vegas vibe.

NEON MUSEUM TIP: No matter how gung-ho nerdy you are, drink a couple (but not too many) before you arrive, and bundle up if you’re doing the night tour.

Vegas reminded me of how I used to be—nonstop, overindulgent, careless and carefree. That really hit home for me when Mr. H told me he heard “I Just Can’t Get Enough” blasting in The Venetian’s casino. That could have been my theme song when I was younger.

Things are very different. Now I can get enough.

I practice the appreciation of life and simplicity. I want to drink tea in my jammies while dreaming about the next time I’ll be on my Yoga mat or hiking on one of Oregon’s beautiful trails. I like clean water, air, and food. If I have all of those things, I’m set.

Besides the travel tips sprinkled throughout this crazy Vegas tale, I thought I would help you guys out if you’re coming home from Las Vegas and wondering how you will ever piece your life together.

Our Vegas recovery routine included:

– water (lots of it)
– healthy snack
– nap (I love you more than anything, Bed)
– more water
– garlic infused honey
– ginger kombucha
– pineapple
– dry brushing (gotta scrub it off)
– epsom salt bath
– launder ALL smoky clothing
– Postmates dinner delivery (Lardo, aka comfort food)
– good, strong beer
– movie with cats on couch
– chamomile tea
– sweet, sweet bed
– 11 hours of sleep

We’re as good as new again.

As an old fart, how do you survive Vegas?

Bringing Positive Intentions Together for the New Year

It’s so interesting returning to a life on the West Coast to become one of the last people in the world to celebrate New Year’s Eve. On social media I can jump on and watch everyone else celebrating at midnight, while I’m still getting ready, cracking open my first beer, and waiting for my turn.

Every year Mr. H and I have a tradition of doing a play-by-play of the year together, going through each memorable month to explore all that happened. It’s always fascinating to see what we can remember, what stands out in our minds—an unforgettable sunset on the Oregon coast, the ups and downs of our jobs, that time we learned something about ourselves that changed us forever.

I’ve never been a huge New Year’s Eve fan, often dismissing going out to avoid amateur night. This year was an exception, as we were able to share it with a group of wonderful friends, who were all in the same boat as us—without plans, but wanting to get out of the house to do something chill and grown-up.

A couple of our friends own Muse Wine Bar, a magnificent spot around the corner from where we live. After many hours of yummy conversation and wine, we stumbled and laughed all the way home, proud of ourselves for braving the night.

It was worth it to bring in the new year with a great group of people. It helped us erase those earlier NYE attempts, the disappointing ones with questionable company and cheap champagne at midnight.

You can listen to the countdown and glasses clinking like crazy by pressing play…

As the year comes to an end, I never doubt its significance. Looking back at the year with Mr. H is one part of that, and looking forward with a positive intention is another.

Most of you know that I am not into resolutions, but I create a sankalpa instead. While resolutions can carry a negative vibe (lose weight, don’t drink, etc.), a sankalpa is more about purpose.

The past two years I have shared my sankalpa on the blog. In a way it’s a public profession, and it has helped me remember to stick with it throughout the year. Unlike resolutions that can be quickly forgotten, a sankalpa tends to stay with you because it’s deeper—it’s intentional.

2014 was “To Love More” and 2015 was “To Simply Enjoy.”

Quite literally I faced my sankalpa in the reflection of a window this summer. It was painted on a wall inside an empty art gallery by my office. There is a lovely irony to it, with the man walking with his smartphone in the background while I snap a selfie.

So, my intention in 2016 is to “Live Consciously.” This may be one of my most challenging sankalpas to date, but I believe it is a crucial one for me, and well…most of us.

Living consciously is difficult in our society. Multi-tasking and distractions are the norm, just being is not.

I struggle with it as much as anyone. Hell, I’m a Content Manager at a marketing agency and a blogger/author when I’m not at work. If anyone’s digitally bound and gagged, it’s this girl.

I am very aware of the perilous nature of living life behind a screen. This is why I have stepped back quite a bit with my author platform this past year.

I took the entire summer off from blogging, because I needed the time to write my first draft and enjoy the sunshine.
I stopped worrying about keeping up with too many blogs and only focusing on a small group of writers I cherish.
I don’t spend as much time on my social media channels anymore, so I can shut down the digital madness in the evenings and relax.
I chose not to get down on myself for not working on my novel a weekend here or there, as it isn’t necessary to try to win a race against myself.

Have I sacrificed the “growth” of my blog, social media channels, and book sales by making this decision? Depends on how you look at it. From a numbers standpoint, yes my growth has slowed. But numbers have never been important to me, relationships have. This past year I continued to deepen relationships with others and myself, and that’s all the growth I really need.

I’m devouring a fantastic book right now, which I highly recommend to anyone, whether you are into Yoga or not. It’s called A Life Worth Breathing by Max Strom.

In the opening of the first chapter, he hit it right on the nail:

We live in a unique time in history, both promising and ominous. As technologies continue to develop at an unbelievably increasing speed, it seems mankind is not maturing nearly fast enough to adapt. And so we find ourselves in a global crisis. Billions of people now covet the industrial world’s wealth and are replicating its system of modern consumerism as rapidly as possible. But what they are ignoring, perilously so, is the fact that as materially well off as the West is, we are also chronically living what Henry David Thoreau coined “a life of quiet desperation.”

Though Strom starts with a jarring intro, interestingly what follows is his point that there has been an upsurge in people embarking on self-examination over the past decade—exploring Yoga, meditation, and reflection. He says that Yoga may be one of the great rays of hope for our future…and, I totally agree with him.

I got a jumpstart on my 2016 intention by reconnecting with Yoga and meditation, incorporating educational and spiritual books into my predominately fiction repertoire, falling in love with all of it again.

But it’s a new kind of love, with a deeper understanding focused on being present, returning to the student mindset. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve practiced a pose or rolled out my mat over the past 10 years, I’m pretending that each time is the first time.

If Yoga isn’t your thing, living consciously can translate into so many other parts of your life. I can relate this to writing very easily.

Yes, it’s important for me to continue pursuing my creative dreams. However as any author knows, writing a book means shutting yourself off from the real world, and unfortunately, that means disconnecting from people around you.

So, I try to time my writing when Mr. H is busy with something else, because I don’t want to sacrifice the little time we have together. That also means, saying to hell with it some weekends to get out of the house and live. For me, that’s all part of living consciously…absorbing everything fully, with intention.

On New Year’s Eve, I woke up and decided I wanted to throw out a request on social to gather up sankalpas to include in this blog post. Why? To start 2016 on a positive note as a community.

A rather small community responded, and perhaps others did not want their intentions listed on a blog, because it was too personal of an ask.

So, thank you to the five ladies who responded to me on Facebook and Twitter for being open to sharing their sankalpas. I love that two of the five had the same name…

Bring more play opportunities to kidlets! – Karen

Prioritize work, play, creativity, love, and laughter equally. – Letizia

Express creativity! – Courtnay

Learn to love myself. – Laura

Not only will I open myself to more opportunities, I intend to CREATE them! – Karin

Thank you all for continuing to share delicious slices of life with me. I wish you all an insanely beautiful 2016!

P.S. If you’d like to leave your sankalpa in the comment section, you are absolutely welcome to go for it.

Forest Wonderland

It’s all too easy to hunker down this time of year—simply curl up under a cheap blanket, with a good book and some furry friends.

Working out becomes a lot harder in the colder months. You have to shrug off the incessant darkness, squeeze your Christmas cookie ass into your workout clothes, and muster up some excitement to get moving.

This is a good time to make the effort. Because if anything is going to uplift you during the winter, it’s exercise.

Diversifying your routine and keeping an open mind are important. The same thing that worked for you in the summer won’t work for you now, because your body changes with the seasons.

I’ve switched to morning Yoga during the week to maintain my practice, because getting off work to greet a pitch black world was sucking the life out of me. No, I don’t bounce out of bed ready to seize the day. But after a few minutes on my mat, I’m happy to be there.

Also important is not to disconnect from nature. Rather than writing off Mother Nature, this is a lovely time to embrace her ill-tempered ways. I’m not saying you should do Yoga outside in the snow, but a long walk or hike are great ways to get away from stuffy, dry buildings and enjoy some fresh (okay…frigid) air.

Lately I’ve been making it a point to go hiking—even when it’s cold and wet, when leaving the house is the last thing I want to do. We had 17 straight days of rain in Portland earlier this month.

It was brutal and I was starting to crack, questioning my existence and growing emotional over insignificant things. You know, the Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) works.

After the rain calmed down, I took a little field trip up to Forest Park. I often feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland when I wander around the trails here, like I don’t belong in such a magical place.

I hadn’t been up to my usual stomping grounds in a while, because work and rain got in the way. The never-ending rain had transformed the trails since my last time up there. I got pretty camera happy, like a damn tourist. The beauty of that—I was able to mix two of my favorite things together. Exercise and creativity.

Moss invaded every branch, turning the forest into a world carpeted with AstroTurf…

Speaking of Alice in Wonderland, this tree kind of reminded me of Caterpillar…

The Queen of Hearts…yeah, she’d live here at the Stone House…

Too bad the moody trees destroyed the East Wing a bit…

In fact, it’s one mood swing after another with Mother Nature. Trees crashing everywhere…

Becoming wet canvases for leafy masterpieces…

What was once Balch Creek is now a rambunctious river…

… a damn cold river you don’t want to slip into.

So yeah, it’s a bit precarious on the disintegrating trails right now, with waterfalls sprouting up where they’re not supposed to be and chunks of the path eagerly becoming one with the “creek.”

But it feels so good out there. I feel renewed instead of sluggish, in tune with nature instead of fighting against it.

If you need some motivation to get moving, don’t wait for New Year’s resolutions or ideal weather. Bundle up and go see what nature’s been up to.

Broke-Ass Holiday Shopper? Read Nola Fran Evie for Free.

We survived the biggest holiday shopping weekend of the year, but let’s face it—we’re a bunch of broke asses now.

And since I’ve been feeling the holiday spirit so much this year, I decided to make one of my books free on Amazon all week long.

Free, Britt? For real?

Yep. It’s my little holiday gift to you.

Nola Fran Evie is a retro summertime romp that will whisk you away to 1950s Chicago. So you can tell winter to kiss off for a bit while you cozy up with three of my favorite fictitious gals.

Here’s the enticing description…

They were unladylike rebels, three young women abandoning rolling pins for baseball bats to join the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. They changed history and that changed them. After the league folds in 1954 Nola, Fran, and Evie meet by chance on a popcorn-scented summer day where it all began…Wrigley Field, Chicago. They team up once again to fight for a pivotal cause these dames can only win by uniting as one.

Inside these ball players lies a fierce beauty, an unconventional destiny beyond the kitchen. Foregoing the American dream of sparkling cars and pastel suburbia, together they face up to the reality of nuclear drills and civil rights. Their story is uncovered nearly forty years later when Jacks Demonte discovers a trail of clues tucked away in a vintage handbag. The extraordinary lives of these women intersect with Demonte’s as she falls deeper into a heroic past.

Here’s an awesome review by Roy McCarthy…

I guessed Britt Skrabenek’s third book was going to be good. What I wasn’t expecting was to be taken on quite such a roller coaster. It starts a little jerkily with four main characters and three time frames but it soon gathers pace and takes the reader on a great ride.

We follow three young women playing professional baseball together in the 1940s, full of hope and joie de vivre. Nothing can stop them and they form a bond which, though soon broken, is to be re-formed later. The try-out day is portrayed with dash and humour as the `girlies’ are discarded and only those with toughness and talent, including the three protagonists Lippy, Toots and Farm Girl, make the grade.

But inevitably the good times end and the women go their separate ways into the real world. Life changes them. Love is won and lost. It is 1950s America which has just seen the landmark Brown v Board of Education court ruling desegregating black and white students. Here Britt’s research comes into its own with its intimate portrayal of Chicago life of the time. She specialises in fashions and her characters, male and female jump right off the page. Through her characters the author deals with relationships and the hopes and fears that go with them. Inter-racial relationships are examined in the light of attitudes of the day.

There are some beautifully worked passages. I loved the drive-in movie scene with Nola and her son. I was glad, at the end of Chapter 26 I wasn’t reading in public – I was in floods and had to take a break.

Whether intentional or not I saw the modern day character Jacks as an extension of the author herself in an omniscient role, together with mental cat. And it is through Jacks that it all came together at the end with an awesomeness that had me gasping.

Meticulously researched, humorous, poignant, entertaining. Britt’s best work yet.

And, you can “buy” it for absolutely nothing on Amazon starting today through Christmas (12/21-12/25).

Happy holidays, sweet things!

Get it now on Amazon

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