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!