Serendipitous sabbatical

Much has transpired between that last post and now. I feel the need to do a mondo update, and I will. I promise.

Here's what I'll gab about:
- Arnica internship in the bag
- College hoops recruiting ... and the people I met or reminisced with along the way
- BBWCC '10 ('nuff said)
- Austin in August
- Blondie getting married
- Warrior Dash and subsequent weekend extravaganza

Whoop! That's a lot o' stuff.

I'll ramble more when I can include photos.

The troops report Wednesday, and I couldn't be more excited to begin the journey that is Coach Kate Part II.

Cheers!

The fine art of multitasking

July is a busy month for basketball coaches. Much of the month is spent on the road and in gyms, evaluating players and trying to put together teams for the future. I've been to tournaments in Oregon City, Seattle, and next week I'm going to San Diego. 

In-between recruiting and office work, I've been putting in what hours I can at Arnica. I'll elaborate when I have more time, but it's been a rewarding experience. I've come in contact with some interesting people, read some life-changing work, and assisted with cookbook-related projects as much as possible. 

Here's a pic from a food photo shoot. The name of the cookbook is Luscious (all about Oregon fruit and its growers), and it's set to hit shelves in November. (My friend Katy--the editorial assistant who helped me get the internship--is in the blue shades.)

Recipe for success

Drum-roll please ...

Well, I did it. One year down and one to go!

I'd be lying if I said the past two months weren't a couple of the toughest I've been through. On top of the emotional turmoil, I took 13 credits this spring. I thought things in the office would slow down a bit after season, but it turns out we conducted workouts in the mornings and in the afternoons. That schedule coupled with my night classes meant long hours. I'm not saying that to complain. I'm just stating a fact.

Basketball-wise, we had an extraordinary spring. The girls improved beyond my expectations, and I finally felt like I made a difference and had a positive effect on the team through coaching. I'm anxious for fall term to roll around with school and basketball because I have a year of experience under my belt, and I am starting to feel like I know what I'm doing. ;)

It's hard to imagine what life will bring this year. I have mixed feelings. It's exciting and scary. I'm out of my comfort zone in an indescribable way. Living day-to-day is a focus of mine, but for someone who loves looking forward to milestones, not being able to see a certain someone waiting for me at the end of this journey is tough to swallow.

I didn't begin this post with any intention of writing the past three bleak paragraphs, but that's what came out. :-/ Let's just call that a random tangent and get back to the point of this post: I've been invited to intern at a local cookbook publishing company! Yesssss! (There's that standard exclamation point and usual tone of this blog that was missing!)

It's called Arnica Publishing & Creative Services. My responsibilities will be varied and open. I can contribute to any area of the press I'm interested in including--but not limited to--editorial, marketing, and sales. The best part is that this job will be combining my passions for writing and cooking. How great, huh?

I had chills when I read the company's collective vision and mission statement. Let me share a bit with you, and I'm sure you'll understand why: "The name, Arnica Publishing, is derived from the plant, Arnica Montana, a small, but powerful flower that promotes physical healing in the body and is often used for relief of pain--it is used as a healing balm. Our name is representative of our original collective vision: 'helping to heal the world through the power of the written word, one reader at a time.'"

I think it's safe to say I'm in the right place at the right time. Talk about serendipity.

The fine folks at Arnica sent me home with two of their cookbooks and three recipes to test for their upcoming release. It's a cookbook called Luscious and it'll be out in the fall. The boss said just cook and take notes. We'll adjust the recipe accordingly. I already bought all of the necessary ingredients, and I'll be reimbursed by the company. This has got to be the coolest job yet!

In addition to Arnica, I'm going to be working on my new blog/website. I won't release too many details, but I can say I'm going to actually tell people about it, unlike this blog that was originally just meant to be my virtual diary. (Nice tease, huh? I learned that in the news biz.)

So, here's a toast to summer, no school for almost four months, and the chance at outstanding professional experience and growth! Cheers!
 

Procrastination Nation

On this day next week, I'll be done with my first year of graduate school. Hoo-to-the-ray! I cannot wait.

I'm not out of the woods yet, though ... I've got my work cut out for me. Two papers, a project, and a portfollio are anxiously awaiting my free time and devotion.

So what am I doing? Sitting and blogging about how much work I have to do. Looking at food blogs. Making lists. Lists of things I need to do, places I need to visit, books I want to read, and how I'm going to save and spend my summer paychecks.

It's the antithesis of productivity. I can hear the clock ticking.

I mean, I just realized I hadn't written anything lately. The old post was screaming, "Replace me!" Never mind the fact it could be lingering on the top of the blog because nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Nothing truly story-of-my-life-worthy.

But, a week from now--yes, just seven days from today, I'll have accomplished a pretty sweet feat. One year down (minus one week), and one to go!

And, to celebrate summer (amid the dreary rain), look what I just bought:

I'm sure I'll have an adventure or two on this puppy. :)

Sub-chapter of the Portland life

This just in!

I'm no longer living at my parents' house. It's a brave new world, people. I'm spreading my wings and embarking on the life of a typical 25-year-old living in the big city.

I must admit, the most enticing aspect of this decision is the idea of exploring and expanding my knowledge of Portland. Although I grew up here, I left at age 18 for college, and I've never really lived here as an adult. Sure, I've been here for the past nine months, but I haven't done much other than school and coaching.

It's time to get going and see what kind of trouble I can find in the Rose City. ;)

Oh, and you can bet I'll be blogging about it. So continues The Story of My Life ...

I feel compelled to mention I am not a fan of the rain. Not one bit. I do not enjoy wearing a pea coat in late May either. I am ready for sunshine. The rain drizzle could be the demise of my residence in the Northwest. C'mon weather gods--give me some sunshine!

The Bucket List

Toward the end of my footloose days in college (or maybe even as far back as high school?) I started to piece together a bucket list. I wrote it in a journal that's now tucked in box in my parents' attic, awaiting yet another move a year from now--to wherever that may be.

A recent walk with my mom prompted me to wonder about my progress on the ol' bucket list.

We passed a house with a sailboat parked on the side. My mom said she'd always wanted to go sailing, and I said, "Me too; it's definitely on my bucket list." To this, my mom replied, "I never had a bucket list. I like to live in the here-and-now. I don't have a lot of wants or needs."

For me, a bucket list isn't about wants and needs--it's more about goals and aspirations.  I admire the fact that my mom has been able to achieve what she wants out of life. Maybe I keep a list because I'm young and ambitious, or maybe it's because I have to write stuff down or I forget it. Either way, I like my bucket list, and I think I'll keep adding to it and checking off items as I grow old.

Here are just a few of the items I can recall listing:
- Play basketball in college.

- Move to a city in which I've never been or where I know nobody.

- Run a marathon.

- Live in a ski town.
- Earn my master's degree.
- Write a book.

- Go on a sailing trip.

- Write for a magazine. 

- Climb a mountain.

- Marry and live a simple life based on family, friends, and faith.  (Is it OK to put marriage on your bucket list?)

- Be my own boss. 

This is quite the shabby blog entry. Note to self: Hunt down that journal and add to this pitiful semblance of a list.

Oh, and for your daily dose of inspirado (as my friend Leslee says), here's one of my favorite quotes that's been screaming at me lately:

Our lives are not determined by what happens to us, but how we react to what happens; not by what life brings to us, but by the attitude we bring to life. A positive attitude causes a chain reaction of positive thoughts, events, and outcomes. It is a catalyst ... a spark that creates extraordinary results.

Mom of many hats

My mom doesn't like wearing hats, but hypothetically speaking, the lady wears more headpieces than anyone I've ever met.

I know my siblings would agree--you just can't put into words what an over-the-top amazing mother we've been blessed with. From the second each of us was born, we've been showered with unconditional love.

We've been taught countless lessons, and I continue to learn from her on a daily basis. Let me mention just a few of my mom's words that echo in my head:
- Details and manners matter.
- Treating others as you wish to be treated is more than a mantra.
- If you want to achieve something, you have to put in the time and effort. It's not easy.
- A stiff upper lip and faith in God's plan will get you through the toughest times.
- At the end of the day, all you have is your family.
- I live a charmed life.

With her fight and fearlessness, she conquered cancer and showed all of us if you don't have your health, you really don't have much.

She kicks my toosh at the gym. I'm not exaggerating. She can lift more weight and spin her legs faster than I can. She always says she wishes she was an athlete. Well, I'd say she's worthy of that title.

She walks more than anyone--period. Whether it's to get her day started, to get to work, or to pick up something at the grocery store, she certainly puts in more miles on her shoes than her car. She's even been pulled over by the police for walking (I need to dedicate a post to these two--yes, two--incidents).

Should I even attempt to write about her cooking, baking, and entertaining dominance? It's impossible to explain how crazy this lady is in the kitchen.

Growing up, we knew Tuesday was French toast day and Thursday was pancake day--it was rare eating cold cereal and toast. There was nothing average about our mealtimes. If someone had a sporting event, dinner would be left in the oven for that kid. For us, fast food was sitting at the counter in the kitchen and watching our mom whip up a hearty meal in 15 minutes.

At school, friends would fight over our homemade lunches. We could get big money for those things!
 
Nowadays, she bakes for the teachers at her school, my dad's coworkers, neighbors, the mailman, UPS guy, and of course the front desk attendant at the gym.

I'm not doing her justice. My mom is unexplainable. She's outrageously humble. She's impossible to thank. She hates receiving gifts because she doesn't like knowing you spent money on her. She's stoic and relentlessly reliable.

I can't forget to mention how she's a mom to more than the four of us. The moment you introduce yourself as a friend of ours, you're just one of the family.

I hope and pray I can be just one ounce of the mother to my children that she's been to my siblings and me. We are the luckiest.

Happy Mother's Day!

(I can't find a better photo right this second...)

Unwritten

I kid you not. The following happened to me today, the fourth day in May ...

Maybe I should rewind and let you in on my final prayer before I fell asleep last night. I asked God for strength, and I prayed for people who I know that need strength. I tried to pray for others instead of myself. I said I was going to wake up and feel a new sense of strength. Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy, but that's just exactly what happened. I felt wonderful. 

I was tired of being unproductive and sulking in the results of recent events, and I worked through my day with a genuine smile on my face, checking off the things that had been building on my to-do list for the past two weeks. 

Whether at my desk or in my car, I had music on, and I chuckled as I heard Keith Urban's Stupid Boy. On my way home from work, I found myself lost in the lyrics of Amy Grant's new song Better Than a Hallelujah. 

Without thinking about the weather or how far I would go, I threw on my running clothes, jammed my headphones into my ears, and set off on a run the moment I got home. By the time I reached a fork in the road, it started to rain. Would it sprinkle or would it pour? Should I go short or run long? I chose to take the route that would end back home after five miles. Of course it began to pour. I smiled to myself because the running seemed to get easier the more I pushed. 

Just as I rounded up one of the last hills before the homestretch, Natasha Bedingfield's Unwritten came on my iPod. I couldn't believe the words I was hearing as the rain was literally dripping off my nose and soaking through my shirt. It was an omen. It was a nod from God. Whatever it was, it was perfect. Absolutely perfect.   Read the following and correct me if I'm wrong. Oh what a glorious day! 

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, oh, oh

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, yeah, yeah

'Life begins at the end of your comfort zone'

I read this quote by Neale Donald Walsch on a Quotable Card, and of all the things I've read in recent days and weeks, it really spoke to me.

It's pretty difficult to put this into words, but I am going to try.

I feel like God and I have this little game going on. I don't know if I'd call it a game, but it seems like whenever I feel on top of the world, something happens to remind me that ... well ... life happens. Let me rewind and share some examples of this so-called game.

In college, I started and scored in every basketball game of my career for three seasons. I had a wonderful relationship with my coach. I played free of injury and seemed to skate through the seasons, racking up accomplishments and awards, and although I worked extremely hard for these things, they flocked to me nonetheless.

Then, my senior season rolled around. This should have been my best year ever, but my back started bothering me, and the precarious injury got progressively worse, to the point I could not get out of bed without a load of pain. I wasn't able to perform on the court as I had in previous years, and my relationship with my coach began deteriorating. I even got yanked from the starting lineup shortly before the end of the season. Almost every aspect of the game I loved caused me to cringe.

I didn't understand why any of those things happened to me at the time. It took at least a year after graduation for me to look at a basketball and actually want to pick it up. After much contemplation, however, I realized that had I not suffered through such a personally devastating season, there's no way I could truly empathize with others who either don't get to play due to injury or performance issues or who have difficult relationships with their coaches. As I am hoping to have many children, how would I relate to them if they end up riding the bench or endure an injury?

Similarly, I suffered some broken hearts in college. Where do I begin with this one? I don't want to dive into details, but it's safe to say, whenever I had feelings for a guy, I'd tell him. I couldn't hold it in. On more than one occasion, I thought I was heading down the road to Relationship-ville (population boy + Kate) only to receive the, "You're amazing, but I don't like you like that" speech. Oh, you'd think I was a pro at hearing this one. It never got easier, but I was more willing to have guys-as-friends than to try to have boyfriends.

Then, I met my one true college boyfriend. We were total opposites, but he made me laugh, and we had a good time together. I want to say this lasted a total of five or six months (and in college, that's a looong time!). I knew when I met him I didn't want to have a boyfriend when I graduated college, but regardless, I was not expecting it the night he came over to tell me--and I quote--"I feel like this is either going to get super serious or it's going to end." I don't even know if I allowed that last part to escape his mouth before I said, "What are you talking about?!" Man oh man. I didn't see that one coming. I was devastated. I remember my three roommates banding together and cutting up photos of my "ex" and me. It was super therapeutic.  
  
It took some time, but I got over it. It wasn't easy as I had to see him with other girls at the bars, and I had to run into him on campus. Now, I'm able to text with him and laugh about certain memories and silly college times. I recently asked him, "How long would you say it took before we could be friends and not have hurt feelings." His response: "I don't know. A couple weeks?" Well folks, this just shows how different women and men are. A couple weeks to him was the equivalent of several months if not a full year for me.

There are other such stories and examples of this "game with God," but the most recent, and perhaps most trying is my breakup with my boyfriend. If you read my blog, I'm sure you feel like that came out of nowhere. Well, that's exactly how I felt on a typical Sunday evening when I got the phone call ending our two-year relationship. It was one-sided, and I didn't really get a straight explanation. There were no feelings of regret or remorse out of this guy on the other line. I had no idea who I was talking to. This was not the man I was planning to marry. That guy and I never really fought. We had an effortless relationship. I was 100 percent in love, and I had more trust and faith in him than anyone. We just saw each other a few weeks earlier, and everything seemed just as it always did. I had not a worry in the world or questionable moment about our future together. Then, in an instant, it was gone. This was the moment I realized any heartbreak before was minimal. This was gut-wrenching heartache.

It's important to live life with no regrets, and that's something deep down I'm sure of. I wish time would fast-forward to the point where I can say I don't regret meeting him, but right now that's pretty difficult. I want time to pass so I can look back and smile about the wonderful memories we made together. I want to be able to laugh and be friends and say thank you for our time together. It's crazy, though--I never thought I'd be looking back and smiling. I thought I would be looking forward and grinning from ear-to-ear together.

So, it's hard right now to have that faith because I never saw this coming. There's a laundry list of things I'm sad, mad, and even angry about, but No. 1 on the list is the fact that I loved sharing my life with him. I'm confident and happy being alone, but having someone to share things with is unexplainable. I can't put that into writing.

Maybe I was too comfortable with the future we painted, and maybe now, just as the quote says, life is truly about to begin.

Promise yourself

Disclaimer: Right now, I am being tested, and I will elaborate on this in a later post. Until then, oh you handful of blog readers, check out the following quotes which are pretty poignant as well as some of my favorites.

Promise yourself to be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind. Look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true. Think only of the best, work only for the best, and expect only the best. Forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future. Give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others. Live in the faith that the whole world is on your side so long as you are true to the best that is in you!
-Christian D. Larson 

I beg you ... to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Do not search for the answers, which could not be given you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
-Rilke 

1. The path is not straight.
2. Mistakes need not be fatal.
3. People are more important than achievements or possessions.
4. Be gentle with your parents.
5. Never stop doing what you care most about.
6. Learn to use a semicolon.
7. You will find love.
-Marion Winik

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.
-Mother Teresa

The Oxford comma

No, this post has no relevance to the story of my life, but it's something I just had to share as a former news editor and now as a book publishing student. I have to get this off my chest. I dipped into this topic when I was writing about my love of graduate school in an earlier post, but by gosh, I think it deserves its own post.

My style is changing, and I don't mean my wardrobe. My writing style. I don't even think I mean that. It's not like I'm going from my semi-snarky style to something super serious. What I do mean is my editorial style is changing.

In the news biz, I was a practitioner of Associated Press style. My journalism profs force-fed me the rules of AP style ... to the point I could recite various rules in my sleep! Now, as I work toward my master's in writing and book publishing, I am learning a whole new world of style rules. My new bible is The Chicago Manual of Style. Tres chic.

This shift in style gives me a bit of anxiety about my blog. Go ahead, say it: How geeky can you be!? I know. I know, but before I would never allow a comma before the "and" in a sequence. Now, I can't get enough of that little comma. It's called "the Oxford comma." For goodness sake, the comma has a name!

I can't be a master if I don't practice the rules, right? Therefore, I'm going to do the ol' swap-a-roo and work on my Chicago style. Yes, my blog is a total mess of different writing styles. I doubt I'll ever go back and change everything. Maybe someday if I ever have that oh so elusive thing called spare time. 

Just a recap for those paying attention ... 

Old style: Waffles, eggs and bacon.
New style: Waffles, eggs, and bacon.

Congratulations! You just read a blog post about my obsessive compulsive grammar disorder. I hope you can say you learned something. Now, who's craving brunch?!

Third time's a charm

When I moved to Austin, I picked up running as a way to stay in shape and meet people. (Perhaps I should first mention when I arrived in Texas, I picked up a few extra pounds due to the introduction of Tex-Mex and barbecue into my diet. Then I realized I needed a hobby!) Running supplemented my newfound friend, "moderation," and helped me set and achieve goals. I never took to running when I was younger, but now I can't image my life without it!

My first marathon was the Austin Marathon with my sister Stefanie (February 2008). We trained via satellite, and it was an awesome experience. We took our time to finish, and I even moved furniture for my new apartment that night. We felt great. We wore shirts in our mom's honor. It was rad. 

Then I ran the Portland Marathon by myself (October 2008). I was not a fan of this marathon. It was rainy, cold, and I went out too fast in the beginning. I hated life after this race. (I did, however, get to keep the space blanket. I always wanted one of those! I felt so official!) 

And then, this past weekend, I ran the Whidbey Island, Washington Marathon (April 2010). 

Whew! This was my third (and perhaps final?) marathon. With my best time yet, I reached my goal of finishing in four hours (my time was 4:00:38!). I was eighth in my age division and the 17th female overall. 

I'd like to thank my best friend and "personal assistant," Emily, as she traveled with me to the island and kept me motivated throughout the run. If not for her and the miracle worker that is GU (gross, I can't believe I actually ate GU), I probably wouldn't have done as well as I did. 

The post-race celebration meal included eggs benedict, champagne, and later, a red velvet cupcake I stowed away in the freezer for a special occasion.

Sylvester's struggle and the irony of car maintenance

I've done my very best to take care of my car, affectionately called "Sylvester Stallone" (preceded by Goldie Hawn and Ron Burgundy). I take it to the shop for scheduled maintenance, never miss an oil change, have my tires rotated, and I try to keep it clean as best I can in rainy Portland.

Why oh why then, does it decide to have a problem virtually no other cars have? Please don't ask me to tell you exactly what it is, but it's something to do with the fuse block. All I know is it's going to cost $600, and because Saturns are no longer on the assembly line, it's going to take 2-4 weeks to "make" the part to fix it! Eek! Oh, and the irony of the situation is that I had my car at the shop to get brand new tires when this problem was "discovered." I've never had a single issue with ol' Sylvie before!

I think the most frustrating part about car issues is the fact that I know nothing about them. I feel incompetent when a maintenance man is speaking to me about my car, and he could be giving me the runaround for all I know. My experiences at auto body shops tend to sound something like this ...

Shop Guy: "Your rotator cuff is leaking exhaust."
Me: "OK. How much will it cost, and how long will it take?"
Shop Guy: "Your firstborn, and how does after the weekend sound?"
Me: "Can I write a check for old time's sake? How do you feel about a layaway plan? Does that grease ever come off your hands?"

Ugggh. I wish I knew more about this stuff! Can I go back to high school and take shop class? Do they even offer that these days?

Sylvester's identical twin, hot off the lot:

Remind me to tell you about my auto shop back in Austin. I found it based on the distance from the location of my breakdown on the freeway one day. After I found out my AAA membership had expired, and I signed up on-the-spot (sitting on the hood of my car on a freeway access road), the tow truck driver just delivered me to this shop. It looked kind of suspect, but the guys turned out to be amazing, and a true gift from God. They took such good care of me, wrote me thank yous, and they called me when I was due for maintenance. They knew I was a poor journalist and sent me gift certificates in the mail. I was on their "frequent customers" plan, too. They even checked out Sylvester for free before I purchased him from the used car (excuse me, pre-owned) lot. That customer service is hard to find these days, and although I am happy to have a car that doens't break down on the freeway anymore (or so I thought?), I miss those guys at Leonard's on South Lamar!

The stages of simplification

The first step is admitting you have a problem.

This is true for many-a-thing, but for me this is in reference to stuff--specifically clothing, papers, newspaper clippings, notes, old bills, handbags, Cougar Athletic-issued gear, books, magazines, old race T-shirts, shoes, and winter accessories.

I need to ... I must ... get rid of this stuff! I thought I did a great job of purging myself of unneeded and completely unnecessary items when I moved from Austin back to Portland, but somehow, over the course of seven months I have managed to accumulate a ton more STUFF. I can't stand it any longer.

As much as it pains me to part with some of my clothes, I am going to do it. I have to. For my sanity. I want to look into my closet and actually see my shirts, slacks and sweaters. I love clothes so very much, but I can't handle the chaos that is my room. Perhaps if I wasn't living at home again I wouldn't notice the mass amount of stuff I have, but since I am, and since I will be moving again in a year, I need to consolidate.

The thought of simplifying my life sounds so sweet. Living a clutter-free life is more than appealing. It's something I want to strive for the rest of my life and pass along to my children. I simply do not need all that I have, and others can benefit from my hand-me-downs and donations.

I have one garbage bag full of clothes, and that is just Round 1. I plan to--as gut-wrenching as it might be for the clothes horse that I am--get rid of even more and as soon as my excessive-stuff-removal is complete, I plan to abide by the following set of guidelines:

1) Purchase items I cannot live without only. If I really, really think I cannot live without a new top or pair of jeans, I must make sure it fits (applying the "if I lose five pounds this will fit" rule can never apply under this new set of guidelines), and I must carry it around the store for a serious duration of time OR place the item on hold and "think about it" for a while before purchasing.

2) Just because it's on sale does not mean I need to buy it.
3) For every one thing I bring in to my closet, I must find a new home for another item (or two!).

4) Read and recycle mail or file it away immediately. For every bill that could be received electronically, I must go paperless.

5) Every time I buy a magazine or a new cooking magazine comes in the mail, I must give myself a two-week window of opportunity for reading. Rip out recipes I want to try and file them in a cooking binder. Recycle old magazines or donate to the library.

This is just a start, but it's something I hope to stick to. I can't stand the clutter any longer. I should post a photo of my overstuffed closet but it's just too embarrassing. No one needs that many shirts, shoes, pants, jackets, skirts, or dresses (even though I am a firm believer one can never have too many dresses)!

Please help me in this endeavor. I need all the encouragement I can get.

Rocky Mountain High

Skiing in Vail, Colorado. Rocky was so pumped because he didn't have to babysit me snowboarding. I chose to ski this time, and I'm not sure I'll ever go back! Although he hit the double black diamonds, and I barely made it to the blues, I am anxious to get back on the slopes. Next time I visit Colorado in the winter, however, I'm not going to forget to bring ski clothes. Thankfully I was able to slap together an outfit for the weekend.

Vail Village after a long day on the slopes

My wonderful, funny, pretty, stylish, thoughful, cheese-loving, wine-drinking friend, Jenny!
The Dallas/Austin/Fort Collins/Denver, group: Mike, Geoff, Matt, Rock, Wes, Will, Brandon, Erica, Chelsea, Jenny, and Lea.
The newly engaged Erica, me, (Will in the background), Jenny, Lea, and Chelsea.
Check out this beach party at Arapaho Basin. People stake out their slots early in the ski season and back in their trucks for a winter tailgate party. Kegs, grills, burgers, and fun for all!

Do the best you can ...

... and leave the rest to God.

I think I first heard these words of advice when I was in high school.

Also in high school, I had a teacher who used to hand out motivational and inspirational phrases including, "Inch by inch, it becomes a cinch!"

Never before this year have I so excessively repeated those lines in my head. I've prayed more than ever, too.

(Disclaimer No. 1: This is a looooong post. I don't blame you if you don't want to read it.)

I'm living such a fast-paced life right now, and I'm pulled in so many directions. I've made it through two terms of grad school and an entire basketball season, not to mention more than half a year of living away from my boyfriend and in my parents' house again. Now, it's time to reflect on the good, the bad, and the ugly. (Don't be scared--there's nothing too ugly!)

First, I must proclaim how much I am enjoying graduate school. Sure, it's demanding, and sometimes I feel I'm in way over my head, but I am learning entirely more than I thought I would. I know more about business, management, and marketing--well, maybe I shouldn't say "I know more," because the truth of the matter is, I don't think I knew anything about these things before beginning my program.

I am learning that everything I studied, memorized, and applied stylistically as a journalist and editor for the news is completely wrong. No, no, I shouldn't say that either. That's a lie. But, I will tell you I am embracing the Chicago Manual of Style (which is used for books, not news). I have gone two terms without taking an editing class, and it's killing me. It just hasn't fit in my schedule. I try not to act so jealous or overly interested in my classmates who are already taking Advanced Editing, but I totally am! I can't wait to have discussions about comma placement and capitalization. For example, did you know in the Chicago style you do, in fact, place a comma before "and" in a sequential statement?! Crazy, I know. It goes against everything I was taught in journalism school. But hey, it's OK! I've purchased the massive style guide, and I have my highlighter ready for this next term. Look out: Nerd alert on the horizon.

I'll have you know, I made it through an Online Marketing class in which I was required to blog twice weekly. Aren't you proud? Unfortunately the topic matter was marketing and not celebrity sightings or cake baking, but I learned a ton in that class, too. I learned I shouldn't be such a slacker if I want people to actually check my blog more than once every six months. I listened to motivating and inspiring guest speakers who embrace the whole online thing. I'm hoping to carry that motivation (and lack of required blog postings) into an increased outpouring of blog posts on this blog.

***I must add a second little disclaimer at this point: I never intended for people to actually read my blog. I started it so that I would have a little scrapbook of funny and memorable things that happen in my life. But, as more and more blogs-gone-movies pop up, maybe, just maybe, people might want to read what's going on with me. I don't really think so, but some of my friends do (specifically, my friend Katie). Katie, you're my inspiration for my new dedication to this blog. You introduced me to the Pioneer Woman, my soul sister mom-blogger. If people want to read about one woman's transformation from city girl to ranching housewife, well then, it can be done, right? Please remind me to blog, OK?

Wow. Talk about a tangent. Here I was typing about my lessons learned as a graduate student, assistant coach and living-at-home-again daughter, and now I've just written my Academy Award acceptance speech.

Back to the topic at hand.

I believe I was wrapping up my love of graduate school. In summary: Although it's difficult, I enjoy it. This is the exact sentiment I have for coaching. Except I'm going to bump up the difficulty factor to the tenth degree. I think--scratch that--I KNOW coaching is one of the most challenging tasks I've undertaken. Oh and everyone seems to have their own opinions when I say this. People seem to think just because I was a player, I should be a good coach. Just because I enjoy working with people, that I should be able to teach. Just because I went through a rough couple of hoops seasons, I should be able to inspire and relate to the girls on the team. If only it was that easy, folks.

I find myself pretty lost when we're diagramming plays or discussing offenses and defenses. The other coaches are wonderful mentors, but I've been told (and completely agree) it takes several years to actually understand just what's going on (that is, unless you're totally gifted in all things basketball).

Toward the end of the season, I realized that when I got on the court and played with the girls, I was able to see the game from a different perspective (the one I was accustomed to) and was able to teach in ways I wasn't able to from the sidelines. I'm hoping to continue to play and coach from this standpoint as I think it's the most effective.

My team definitely proved to be an inspiration for me. Picked as the pre-season conference champions, they (we?) ended up having a somewhat disappointing second half of the season. We headed into the conference tournament with nothing to lose, needing to win three games in three days to advance to the NCAA tournament (one of our main goals at the beginning of the season). I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a pessimistic attitude at this point, but the girls surprised everyone--including themselves--by winning the tournament and going to the NCAA tournament first round. What an experience! The most important lesson and memory I'll take from this season is that the old adage is true: Will above skill. If you want it bad enough, and if you believe, all things are possible.

I'm not going to dive into the details of the stress and strain of the administrative duties of my job as a coach. Let's just say I felt as though I was wearing one too many hats. Yet, at the conclusion of the season, everything got done, and I know my experiences will help ease the process next season.

As I try to wrap up this blog post, I'll just briefly mention that living at home isn't as bad as I anticipated. I am enjoying my time with my parents (for the most part). Sure, I miss coming home to an empty apartment, having space, privacy, and my own kitchen to cook in, but I do love and appreciate the home-cooked meals, conversations, and laundry service that come with my temporary residence with Ma and Pa. (See? Not too ugly indeed!)

Lastly, I miss my Austin friends and (of course!) my boyfriend. I think these relationships, however, are being strengthened with distance. The time has just flooooown by, and if it continues at this pace, we'll be back together before we know it! Rocky is enjoying his job, and it's keeping him plenty busy. He loves his new location, and as much as it saddens me to know he won't be going back to Austin, I'll be ready for a new adventure come June next year.

Right now, I'm on Spring Break in Colorado visiting said cowboy. I haven't had a true day off since October, so let me tell you, it feels good. We're about to embark on a trip to the mountain for my second attempt at snowboarding. The first left me sore and frustrated. Stay tuned for the next report.

The VIP treatment

Yes, I know my blog is full of unfinished posts and thoughts, and my new blogs aren't much better, but it's time for me to get it together!

The other day, I wrote down a couple experiences I never mentioned in The Story of My Life.

Let me rewind to August, 2009. Rocky and I went with a group of friends to a Randy Rogers Band concert at Nutty Brown Cafe. Hands down, this is one of my favorite bands and also one of my favorite places to see a show in Austin.

We went to the concert with a mixed group of friends after a long, hot day of boating on Lake Austin. Sunburned and burned out, we rallied to see RRB. We traveled in different cars and ended up losing some of the friends in our group as it was PACKED outside the amphitheater. I'd never seen it like that before. (Later, we would learn it was the most people ever at Nutty Brown for a show.)

We were standing in what seemed like a 50-yard-long line of people waiting to enter. Although I bought our tickets online, we had to pick them up at will call. This mass of people was the will call line. Ugggh. All we wanted to do was get in, grab a beer, and check out the band.

We could see inside, and the lines at the bar were equally out of control. I was beginning to wish we would have either arrived earlier or headed back home once we saw the overflowing parking lot (more on this later). As we stood there in the back of the line, trying to spot our friends at various points in the other lines, I noticed a couple (probably in their late 30s or early 40s) kind of wandering around. I smiled at them, and they walked right up to me.

"Excuse me, we were wondering if you two would like to sit with us in the VIP section of the show. You see, we bought a table and our two friends were unable to make it."

Hmm. Let me think. Fifty-yard-long line ... jam-packed, standing room only crowd ... pushy people OR the alternative: joining these strangers at their private table in the VIP section, complete with table, chairs AND a personal waiter!?!

Before I said yes, I stopped and thought about how I'd feel if I were one of our other friends. We did come with a big group of people. It's not like we came with just one other person and would be leaving her/him in the dust. I imagined how I'd feel if two of our friends were hand-selected to sit in the VIP section. Well, I'd be jealous as all get-out, but I would be thrilled for them. How cool, right? So, we said yes and we joined our new friends and waiter for the show.

After we made our way through the crowd of sweaty cowboy boot-wearing Texas country music fans, we chit-chatted with our sponsors. I mentioned how it was a struggle just making it out of the parking lot and to the line we were standing in. You see, the lots at these outdoor concert venues are big, empty fields. There was no one directing traffic that night, and naturally it became a free-for-all. People were parking any- and everywhere they could.

I spotted a fantastic place for Rocky to park his big truck. I got out and said, "Yes! Park here!" Little did I know the reason no one had taken my perfect parking spot was because it was a pile of sinking dirt. Rocky pulled in and his two-wheel drive truck sank right on down. After 15 minutes of back-and-forth, he was finally able to get it out of the mud. Many, many people walked by and gave me the, "Oh. Yeah. He shouldn't have parked there" looks.

I was panicking. But, in true Rocky fashion, he was cool as a cucumber and didn't express any worry. I'm pretty sure he was ready for a beer, however, and I told him I'd drive home since I was the one who got us in that mess to begin with. Annnnnyway, our new friends said they had seen us struggling with the truck. They didn't know that was us when they randomly chose us to sit with them. The lady said they chose us because we were at the very back of the looooong line, and she liked my dress-boots combo (of course I liked this response!).

We had a great time living the VIP lifestyle that stifling hot August night. It's an Austin memory I'll never forget.

Happily sitting down ...
While everyone else was packed into the amphitheater!