Today is a great day.  I am going to take a lunch.  I cleaned my desk.  I cleaned and organized the print station.  I have time to work on long-term work tasks.  The skies are cool blue.  I have tomorrow off.  I googled how many days until my wedding (24).  I used the calculator to find out how old I am again (27).  A pleasant surprise, since I've been walking around as a 28 year old lately.  I still have 2 years and 3 months to knock off my "Before 30 Goals."  It's fall, so of course I'm thinking about goals.  I can't really remember any of my before 30 goals except to buy a house.  Which I guess John already took care of for me? Not really sure if it counts.  I don't feel the sense of accomplishment.  But maybe that's part of it.  It goes hand in hand with a lot I have been learning  - or rather - am trying to learn.  Like being less independent and overpowering.  Learning to respond with "Perhaps, but here's why I'd rather not" rather than with "No" and an intense expression.  Learning to be okay with not feeling that sense of accomplishment.  Being okay with sometimes just needing someone else to help. Being okay with others needing help too.

We're reading through a marriage book right now and I found myself in the chapter entitled "Loving the Stranger."  The author discusses the season in every new marriage when you lose the glasses and see all the flaws in your spouse.  The "honeymoon" phase is over and you find yourself wondering "Who is this person? This isn't who I married."  This will probably happen to John and I, and it will come as an absolute surprise, because right now we both really feel like we're pretty aware of each other's flaws.  At least the little ones that tend to drive you mad about each other. And a lot of the big ones too.  This didn't strike me much in the chapter, but what did was how the author talked about those changes.  He said, you change.  You are one person.  Then you become another person.  Marriage changes you.  Babies change you.  New careers change you.

It shouldn't be so shocking to me, but it was.  For the past two years, I've been telling John how I just don't feel like myself.  I even started a private blog where I began writing just for me, hoping to remember myself.  It could sound humorous, but it's actually kind of a frightening feeling.  Not feeling you for so long.  At times it made me worry that I shouldn't be in this relationship - like maybe I couldn't "be me" - though I knew it wasn't anything John was doing.  Never before have I had such an amazing friend who allowed me to be myself and encouraged and forgave and listened and loved.  It couldn't be him.  It had to be work.  Or all the other changes.  As I've likely said here before, we came to realize that in a matter of months, I'd moved out, changed jobs, entered my first committed relationship and grown a year older.  It was a lot of change at once.

I've been waiting ever since for me to remember me, somehow fall back into stride with myself, or crawl my way back to that ease and internal sense of self. And that is what struck me yesterday as I read.  I won't.  I've changed.  It's not about waiting or finding. I'm just the person I am now. I'm not as kind.  I complain more.  I'm really strong though, until I'm not.  In fact, I'm much more strong and consistent, I don't let things shake my emotions. I don't work out a lot.  I have a hard time waking up early, but when I do, I find I still love it.  I like porters and not really blue moon. I sometimes drink my coffee black and actually like it.  I order vanilla lattes. On hot summer days, I love to sip cold gin and often choose it over whiskey at a bar. If I have more than two drinks, I'll know it. I get angry if I spend a whole night with a group of friends and come home feeling as far if not further away from them. I don't keep my room clean.  I love gardening.  I can even put up with seeing a few spiders out in it without tossing in my gloves and going inside.  I have chickens.  I freaking love my chickens. I don't know if I want to be in marketing.  I hate saying something I don't believe is true. If I do say something, I hate saying it weak or unconvincingly. I cuss sometimes.  I rarely ever write.

This isn't who I was.  But I just realized, it is who I am. I get to choose to change, but who I am right now is really who I am.  And that will always be true.

Yesterday, I made a choice toward one single change.  And I'm going to make it again today.  And hopefully one day I won't complain much.  And I'll be kinder.  I'll be gentle again.  I'll respond openly.  I'll laugh more. I'll drop this new habit of cussing.  I'll put my clothes away and not toss them on the floor.

Marriage is going to change me.  Our tiny house will have to change me.  And a dozen other things along the way will change me.  I won't be the same person I am today.  I will be a new me.  And hopefully a better one.

When I see people who seem to have their priorities in order, it shakes me out of this weird frantic haze.  I don't come across them all too often.  Not that I'm trying to judge anyone's priorities, I'm referring to whether the people themselves seem to feel they have them in control - getting to spend time where they want to - making time for what's important - finding the moment and enjoying it.  Maybe no one actually feels confidently about this - but I see some and think they've certainly got it down better than we do so far. And it inspires me.  

Especially in this moment, when I look at the calendar and see that Beau and I are over halfway through our engagement.  I see a to-do list that's growing faster than we can possibly mark things off of it, and work is far too hectic this summer and my interest too small. And our chickens are trying to kill each other (literally). And they're digging all the dirt out of all of my gardens and picking the plants to death.  And the grass keeps getting long way too fast. And our neighbor (from down the street!) likes to rant about our hedge being too wide. 

And we're halfway through our engagement, and we've barely even had a moment to enjoy it! Two nights ago we had completed out engagement photos and were sitting down at the restaurant where we had our first date.  Our server asked if we were the two who'd been getting photos taken outside, and then offered us a little prosecco to celebrate.  After a moments discussion, we took her up on it.  It was the first time we had sat and sipped champagne to celebrate our engagement.  We just enjoyed the rest of the night - letting ourselves relish it.  And I want to keep doing that.  I want to find how to do that for every day we have left --- even while we knock off the items on our list.  

And some people seem to manage this. They bring their children to concerts in the park and pack delicious picnics for their family and friends.  And they spend the evening, right in the middle of their busy week, sitting on a blanket for 4 hours enjoying the moment. These people inspire me. 

I will never again.

I know they tell you not to use those words, but I think it's safe in this instance to say.  I will never again:

• Plan a wedding
• Be in the first year of owning a(n older) home 
• Work a crazy stressful/demanding more than full-time job
• Work a second, weekend job (because, hey, it'll be fun! shut up, Kati.)
• Play on a weekly rec soccer team.
• Buy four, unconventional pets I've never owned before.
• Have said, older home with three units (that's three kitchens, three bathrooms, two water heaters, two roofs, etc.)

On top of the rest of life things, like family members in the ER and moving a sister and flying to John's hometown for a memorial service and family reunion all in a week...


I will never again do all of these things - at the same time. 

Never again.



[But if I had to do it again, I'd pick John to be my partner again.]

Hey there friends!  It's been a couple weeks hasn't it?  I don't have much time to chat today.  I suddenly have two weeks of work to accomplish in the next two days.  Not sure how I'm going to swing that.  But, I'm going to try.  It's 7:45 and I've been here at my desk for nearly an hour.  Already watered the flowers, woke up my girls and changed out their water and food.  First meeting starts in 60 minutes.

Truth be told, I keep pushing an anxious nausea away. What I have to accomplish is maybe not possible.  And certainly will not be healthy if I do pull it off.  

However, as soon as I push that anxious thought away, I find another waiting patiently right behind it.   John.  I came home yesterday to find he was already there.  The front door and back doors open - his shoes on the patio - my man was in the back yard feeding our girls 'a treat.'  My heart melted.  I ran out a few minutes later for a girls night, said goodbye to him as he began the dishes.  And I came home hours later to find him well into moving everything out of our "workshop" and into our office - reorganizing, cleaning, taking care of so many things on our long list of to-do's for the week - creating a guest room. We spent the next several hours of the night cleaning, moving, folding. I'm so glad I get to work beside and with this man for the rest of my life. I'm glad that when I face impossible tasks - successful or not - I get to find him at the end of the day. 

About damn time there's a study that gives some potential perks to those of us holding onto our little baby beans longer than the rest.... can I hear an amen?

Wait.  This might not be saying as happy of things as I first imagined.  [Stupid misleading marketing.]

You waited to have children?  You are hearby awarded no points and you don't get a second car in this game of life.  Return to your desk.

Boo.



But really, I'm at my desk.... obviously, for too long based off of the liberality and candor of this post.

Also, seriously, how unrealistic is that game of life? Can we talk about that? Because really, those of us who stick around at work and have no babies are WAAAY more likely to have a second car and faaaar less likely to have need of it....

The Beautiful Game

Tonight is (my) first blueberries game of the season. I've been thinking a lot about soccer. Me and the world have, you know with that whole "World Cup" thing happening right now.  So I've been thinking on this sport that my dad put me in shortly after I could walk. Thinking of all the years I played and what they were worth.  Thinking of the season I had to pull out early and how I assumed that would have to be the end for me.  You take off 6 months and you come back out of shape, out of practice, out of confidence.  That's not the recipe for moving up in the premier world.  But somehow I came back with something else, I wasn't over-thinking it.  And due to a number of other details out of my control - what should have been my scariest, worst tryout - was my best.  I knew no one.  I hadn't been competing.  I was trying out for the same league that I'd pulled out of early last year. What were the odds? Low. I moved up.  I became a part of what would be my favorite team.

But what is the point of all those years?  What's the point that I didn't quit playing soccer in 10th grade? Well, I'm engaged to a guy I met on a co-rec soccer team.  And who knows, maybe I'd still have joined it if I quit back in 10th grade.  Then again, maybe not.  It's just delightful to me to look back and see that this thing that became a part of my life so early on - introduced me to the guy with whom I'll be spending the rest of my days.

I can't just leave it at that though - because I don't think the guy is the end goal of it all.  I don't believe who you spend your days with is more important than who you become - before them - with them - maybe even after them. This sport also crafted deep parts of who I am, taught discipline to my stubbornness and teamwork to my strength.  Taught me that sometimes it pays to sprint the field and be the only one down there by the goal.... but more often, it pays to wait for a good teammate to join you. Your glory might be less, but your score will most likely be higher.  There's nothing better than a good teammate that you don't have to see to know they're running the opposite sideline and setting up for you - nothing better than creating something beautiful with someone you trust.  That's what soccer taught me.  And perhaps it's fair to say, that's what soccer brought me.

I'm glad I didn't quit the berries that first season. That's another thing soccer taught me, part of that disciple and stubbornness. Don't quit.


I'd never have met that guy making dollar bill rings with Chris.

"It all adds up to what can be a remarkable life, if we’ll but learn that it’s less about what we’re doing, and more about the attitude with which we’re doing it. Lives of faith, I’m discovering, can be rich even in poverty. Vibrant even in the midst of health challenges. Lush even in the desert. I know. I watched this kind of normal, in this slightly “out of the way” town, for decades.

I just preached this past Sunday on the importance of making the most of “the time we’ve been given” and I’m sitting here realizing that I lived in a family that, for all flaws, sought precisely that. I’m just now reading Ecclesiastes and am reminded that it’s only in jumping into the deep end of both joy and sorrow, responsibility and goofing off, life and death, that we find the treasure called abundant life. That’s why Rilke said:

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Keep going, no matter what. No sensation is too far out. Let nothing separate you from me….the land which they call ‘life’ is near. You will recognize it by it’s serious demands. Give me your hand!”

- Pastor Richard Dahlstrom 

I've been writing here for 9 years, recording events and thoughts and memories. Collecting.

This is the only place where I'm the dozen girls all at once - the dozen me's I've been over the past decade, changing and then changing again. Waking up to meet someone new.

I started this blog soon after my first real heart break, a couple years after I got my braces off, during my first year not living at home, the year I graduated high school, months before I started college.  Before marketing at UIE, Starbucks, Linville, Weaver and LMN.  Before any of my classmates and childhood friends married or had kids or had second kids or bought houses.  Before I could buy whiskey. Before I stopped getting french manicures. Before I fell in love with Keats. Before I bought the Toddler. Before I gave Todd a hampster for Christmas because I thought it would be funny. Before I smuggled a book in my dress under my graduation gown. Before I ever went to Vegas.  Before I went to Vegas again. Before I stayed with Kim in Nashville for over a month. Before I applied for the Cambridge Gates Trust.  Before I received the news that I was not awarded the scholarship. Before I was a backup dancer for a tween christian hip hop artist? Before I got a concussion on a sail boat. Before Sparks wrote lame books. Before The Office. Before the Blueberries.  Before Beau. Before moving out on my own. Before I pierced my nose. Before my childhood dog died. Before a dozen other goodbyes.

I think I just knew that paths were parting in my soul and all around me and the only way I'd be able to get back or make sense of it was to start collecting tiny pieces in long run-on sentences. I'd begun to learn the painful lesson that many, many people will be happy to tell you who you are and who you've been - and many of them will not be true - though they don't mean to tell you lies. And more dangerous still, those who knew you may forget you.  And if they can so quickly forget what is true, perhaps a person can as easily forget themself too.






Many things have changed.  And some things have not.

First post in 2005.

A couple hours before getting engaged in 2014

Life is Good

Life is good, and I am grateful.

I seem to be hearing the same sentiment all around me lately.  Life is not perfect.  It isn't exactly "comfortable" most of the time.  And it could never get mistaken as "easy" - but, life is good.  And I think if we can learn to feel comfortable in ourselves amidst all of its surprises, irritants and discomforts, we'll be able to see and enjoy all of its pleasures, joys and gifts.

One of our favorite things lately is making our first cup of morning coffee and sitting out on the lawn with our "girls" - letting them wander around exploring and pecking.  I also have this constant hankering to sit on the front porch in the evenings.  We don't really even have a front porch.  We have front steps, and a concrete landing just big enough for us to fit two old ikea dining chairs beside the door. And I love it.  We leave the front door wide open despite the flies and bees it kindly invites into the main house, we crank up my dad's old record player we had repaired and we sip on something strong.

Work is crazy.  My body seems to have some old grudge against me. The house has a few dozen projects that need attention (not to mention flies).  We're planning a wedding on the fast track. And we're working on growing together. It's stressful and demanding. But it's also fun, when I take the time to remember.

Life is good. And inside these moments, I find comfort.

10 Life Lessons From a Navy Seal - Lesson #9

"The ninth week of training is referred to as “Hell Week.” It is six days of no sleep, constant physical and mental harassment and—one special day at the Mud Flats—the Mud Flats are an area between San Diego and Tijuana where the water runs off and creates the Tijuana slue’s—a swampy patch of terrain where the mud will engulf you.

It is on Wednesday of Hell Week that you paddle down to the mud flats and spend the next 15 hours trying to survive the freezing cold mud, the howling wind and the incessant pressure to quit from the instructors.

As the sun began to set that Wednesday evening, my training class, having committed some “egregious infraction of the rules” was ordered into the mud.

The mud consumed each man till there was nothing visible but our heads. The instructors told us we could leave the mud if only five men would quit—just five men and we could get out of the oppressive cold.

Looking around the mud flat it was apparent that some students were about to give up. It was still over eight hours till the sun came up—eight more hours of bone chilling cold. The chattering teeth and shivering moans of the trainees were so loud it was hard to hear anything and then, one voice began to echo through the night—one voice raised in song.

The song was terribly out of tune, but sung with great enthusiasm.

One voice became two and two became three and before long everyone in the class was singing.

We knew that if one man could rise above the misery then others could as well. The instructors threatened us with more time in the mud if we kept up the singing—but the singing persisted.

And somehow—the mud seemed a little warmer, the wind a little tamer and the dawn not so far away. 

If I have learned anything in my time traveling the world, it is the power of hope. The power of one person—Washington, Lincoln, King, Mandela and even a young girl from Pakistan—Malala—one person can change the world by giving people hope.

 #9. So, if you want to change the world, start singing when you’re up to your neck in mud."  


Source: 10 Life Lessons From a Navy SEAL

Oh yes, this will be arriving at our door tomorrow.  Happy, happy heart. Seriously, what more do we need?

2 half gallons of 2% Smith Brothers milk

1 lb of Stumptown - Hollar Mountain

Flagship Cheese 6-8 oz block

Bread Garden Whole Grains with Honey - 28oz  

I am currently scheming as how to never have to grocery shop.  Once a quarter at best.

If all goes well, we'll have fresh produce and dairy delivered to the front door.  We'll have fresh eggs in a few months just outside the kitchen door, thanks to Moe, Maxene, Munk and Mabel. And I'm hoping we'll buy half a cow and freeze it.  With that, all we need to buy is dried goods and we could stock up on those quarterly at Costco.  Oh yeah, we have a Costco card.  Our "other, married half" put us on their membership.  We're basically adults.

Goodbye 5am and 9pm shopping trips. Hello fresh, local food and laziness.

I imagine in this wonderful dream world, I sometimes get up on a Saturday and stroll through the local farmers market for some delicious vegetables, raised with love by the community garden down the street.  But no more lines, no more florescent lights and 90's hit music at ungodly hours.

So far... my plan is not going as well as I intended.  Smith Brothers delivers to "almost all of the Western Washington" - almost, means not Ballard, Fremont, Wallingford, Laurel Heights, Northgate, or Maple Leaf.  And "Blake the Milkman" who is their independent supplier to these snuffed neighborhoods, only delivers to orphanages and families that apparently consume copious amounts of milk each week.  :/

I will not be defeated. Commence emailing request for "special exceptions" to Milkman Blake. Follow with second personalized phone call.  If needed, make additional promises. I will have my milk delivery.

I grew up with a "teacher" mother as evidenced by the snake skin in a jar kept around the house for years.  A little something along with many other little somethings that I willingly forgot over the past two decades.  Until this morning.  Leaving jobs in our 20's can feel like shedding that layer of skin.  They say snakes shed to allow room for more growth, and to remove parasites.  Both seem oddly consistent with my past experience. (Yes, I guess I just called myself a snake.)

My mom would refer to the snake by name.  In fact, she would refer to his skin in the jar by name. He had shed many memories in our garden over the years. At least, this is how I remember it.  You have to keep in mind I was five when we moved away and left that good friend behind.  I didn't see the jar again either. So perhaps I remember it all wrong.

But this morning, he came to mind. We grow like mad in our 20s, leaving skins in offices, apartments and sometimes relationships. The air around us getting too tight, squeezing us until the time we can crawl out of it.  And it's bitter sweet, leaving a shell of ourselves in each place.  Saying goodbye to a part of who we are, who we've been and accepting the cold air on our new unknown skin.  It is vulnerable just as it is exciting.

I'm feeling squeezed and there will definitely be some fresh skin soon, but right now I'm trying to figure out what to shed.  And how to shed it.  Leaving an environment, closing a door becomes the obvious and easy solution for change and growth for our generation.  We don't like it? We leave it.  But what about when we could change it?  And is everything worth changing? Or are we wasting our youth and energy?

Someone taught me back in college about the truth of trajectory.  It's not about where you are, it's about where you're headed.  Once you grasp that, you realize that every small decision you make in your youth can drastically change where you wake up in your 40s.  Little decisions can be big.  And big decisions can determine a lot more than your salary.

But the whole trajectory truth would be a lot easier if you knew exactly where you wanted to wake up at the end.  You could just work backwards from there.  Some do.  I don't.

Thank God for counsel and wisdom but now, I need increased vision. And vision has to be your own, no one can give you your vision. I have to decide to step one way or the other. And while Mr. Frost would have you believe it's the one path least traveled that bears the reward, he missed the fact that no one else has the two unique paths to choose from that you do. They are both untraveled as of yet.  You choose. It's not least or most, it's left or right.

This has been, without a doubt a strange, strange week.

I felt a bit like a single mom this morning. To four baby chicks. Change their clothes (water), pack their lunch (pick the poop out of their food dish and replenish for the day), make sure the temperature in their coop is right. Bring the trash bins all up to the front of the drive (all four of them, Good Lord!). Water the plants sitting on my front porch (okay, I didn't because I ran out of time, but I should have and meant to). Get myself dressed and make myself a cup of coffee to go. Catch the bus. Catch up on email on my commute. Start work day.

Meanwhile, think of the laundry I need to finish when I get home, dishwasher I need to run, and other various errands to be accomplished before sleep. Including changing said water, food, and coop wood chips multiple times before sleep. And maybe cuddling my fluffy little babies and posting numerous photos of them to Instagram for Morgan. ;)

Did I mention I looked at puppies on Craigslist yesterday?

November is here!  And I feel like we just barely made it.  Here's to the long awaited 30 days of saying no to all the extras - to things we love and time with those we care for and almost always give first spot to - at the expense of so much.  Here's to a month of us re-centering, finding where we are and where we should be today, of resting, of re-figuring how to live. Of putting first things first and not ignoring dreams and long term goals.  Of being still.

The first time I heard this song, it got me.  I've played it over and over since.... I think it's my November mantra.

Let's be still.

November is No-Plans-Ember.

For the month of November, we aren't making any new plans.  It's already been hard, as we've had to say no to some truly great offers.  But I think this will be good - a chance to focus on priorities that tend to get last place and fall into the calendar cracks.  For November, it will be different.

If you invite us, we will probably talk about it for a while, going back and forth, both taking turns at the devil's advocate... but hopefully in the end, we'll reply with "sincere regrets" and an attempt to reschedule after the holidays. 

I don't take nearly enough time to sit and meditate.  After cleaning up my room last night I sat on my bed and pulled out an old scrap book full of cards that have been given to me and special words spoken over me.  It was only 20 minutes or so, but it was encouraging.  I like being reminded that I'm the same person I was 9 years ago; sometimes I feel so disconnected from that girl.  I live in a completely different world - I spend my days mostly with a new set of people, in new surroundings, analyzing new information, being perceived in new ways and processing through new thoughts.  I don't feel I'm in too much danger of losing my true self... not really any way, but I do feel the tiredness of it all, of moment by moment being so many other things in the eyes of other people. It's nice to sit on my bed, and be just me, just by myself with no room for misconceptions.

Aren't these such funny times?  All at once they are "make us or break us" days, every one of 'em.  And they're unexpected walks in the rain days.  Dance lesson days.  Sailing lesson days. Great new job days.  They're the best and the hardest.  The most exhausting and trying, and also the most fun.

After I let my dad in on it all, all that's on my mind, all that's burning up my heart (and my esophagus again), he says kindly, "It doesn't get easier."  But it's got to!

There's got to come a year where it's not a new job, a house to take care of, a dream that comes with weekly commitments and constant challenges, a  relatively new relationship, bills to pay and forms to fill out, and a friend to bring a meal to every week. A summer where there aren't five or six weddings! Where there's not some place to be every weekend or someone visiting from out of town.

There's got to be a time where you spend weekend after weekend with nothing to do.... right?  That time does exist.  It has to exist. Some day.

Today, I'm okay with how things are - because they'll make us.

And they'll make some great stories.

After all, these are some of the most exciting times... these are the things we've been waiting for expectantly.

Good Morning.  

Happy "Get sh*t done week!!"

So much on the horizon, so much on the table, so much on the line. 

So much on the list!!  

Amazing, the work and responsibility of dreams - we don't imagine them for years and live them for a moment.  No, we work toward them and through them for years.  There are years of anticipation, hope and longing, there's a moment of excitement as the page turns and life transitions into the thing anticipated.... and then there are the steady, long days of living out that dream.  The weeks of assignments, of acquiring the new skills now necessary, of keeping calm and staying grateful and excited.  Of reminding yourself, this is what I've hoped for... and now I get the joy of the work.  

It's true of school.  Of a home.  Of a friendship.  Of a romance. Of a career. Of any passion or calling.  

You'll have to remind yourself several weeks or months in:  this is the joy of the work of a dream. 

Otherwise, it's then your dream will be stolen. Or rather, just forgotten.  After you've turned the page not before.  After you've felt the excitement.  After you've set in to the days of living it. 

Be consistent - especially when it gets hard and the rush has passed.