Author: Lisa Gurry

Yesterday I had one of the scariest moments of my life. Not to be overly dramatic, but it was terrifying!

A few important notes for context. I love my dog Zoe. Love her. It is an unexpected love. But it is mutual and heartfelt. Zoe follows me everywhere. She is my biggest fan. She wants nothing more than to bask in my presence. She cries when I leave, particularly if I’m going on a run. And she is SO EXCITED to see me every time I return. I love her too. Her big brown eyes are so soulful and I love her devotion. I even wrote a loving blog about her. And a blog about how poorly trained she is. But still.

Next. Let’s talk about fears. Probably my second fear growing up (only behind an aggressive house fire – I was traumatized by the stagecoach fire on Little House on the Prairie. True story) was being attacked by a dog. I lived in a rural setting and as I got older, I frequently went for long runs on deserted country roads. Often I would be with my running team, but sometimes I would be solo. On these country roads, there were often angry dogs. You know, the stereotypical dangerous kind (pit bulls, Doberman’s and the like). In the country, these dogs weren’t indoor dogs or even contained within fences. They would sometimes chase you as you ran by. Every now and then you would see one on a chain who would go ballistic. I was always terrified one of those chains would break. I was always on guard, would often switch sides of the road to avoid certain homes, and if necessary, carry a hand full of rocks ready to use for pelting. Not a full proof plan, and thankfully never needed.

So here’s what happened yesterday. I had gone for a morning run, half asleep, but racking up mileage. After I got home, I grabbed Zoe (she is a terrible running partner) to take her out and we went for a short walk. As I was crossing the street to my house, I look up and see a sweet little boy. About 8 years old. He is running fast trying to hold onto a dog that is sprinting toward us. My first thought was concern for the boy – he was barely holding on and it looked like he could be drug at any moment. Then I realize the big black dog he is holding onto is barreling toward Zoe and I.

Before I could even react, the mean dog jumps on Zoe’s back and sinks her teeth into her back. Zoe is yelping and crying and wriggling trying to shake the mean dog.

I can’t even believe what has just happened. We live in the city. On a suburban street. There are not dog attacks here. I wasn’t on guard. Not prepared at all.

But I react and start yelling, “NO, NO, NO!!” and then, unsure what to do, I kick the mean dog in the side. All along, I’m terrified Zoe is being torn to shreds. I’m worried the dog could turn on the little boy – or me – next. And I have no idea what to do.

Thankfully, very quickly (it’s so hard to tell in these situations – for sure less than a minute), a tall, teenage boy that was walking by on the sidewalk somehow pulled the mean dog off Zoe. I love him. He is my hero. I have no idea who he is or where he went, but I love him. The owners (who live across the street and one house over) come running up and take their dog.

I am freaking out! I am trying to look at Zoe but she is pulling toward our house, desperate to escape. I run inside with her and look for how badly she is hurt. Somehow, she is not bleeding – the dog must have just latched on to her enough to hurt, but not shred her. She is terrified and I’m hugging her – and then I am SO furious.

I went back outside and went a bit nuts on the owners. The dog is clearly dangerous. Attacked Zoe completely unprovoked and bee-lined for her. On our street there are many small children. Who often walk dogs. And I often have my youngest child with me. Or my older two kids will walk Zoe. The situation could have been so much worse.

They promised me the mean dog would be sent away to grandma’s house in the country. I threatened to call animal control if I ever see the dog again. It has no place on a street like this in a city, surrounded by small children. The house has a revolving door of occupants in some kind of shared living arrangement and the owner was appalled. They were all shocked that the dog attacked.

This is our rental house, of course. And now I really can’t wait for the 2 months to fly by and we leave this street for our real home. We’re literally about 200 meters outside our real neighborhood and it’s a fine area. But I am shaken by that crazy, mean dog and the nutty neighbors.

I don’t have a real message for this blog other than gratitude that my sweet Zoe is OK. And, really, in this world, you always have to keep your eyes open, ready to defend those you love.

Today is Father’s Day and like every Father’s Day, I am so thankful for my dad. As the years go by and I see more of my friends lose their father’s, my gratitude only grows.

My dad has taught me so much over the years and I’ve been writing this blog in my head for a few days. And then yesterday, Facebook did me a solid and highlighted a memory from five years ago – a list of lessons from my dad that I had published on Father’s Day.

It was interesting to read the list and to see how many of those same lessons had been floating in my head while I pondered my blog. That, my friends, is longevity. And lessons well taught.

Just for fun, here was my list of lessons from five years ago:
1) Family comes first
2) Always act with integrity and honesty
3) Have a kind and generous heart
4) What do you do is not who you are
5) Only you can define who you are
6) Work hard at everything you commit to
7) Bear hugs solve most things
8) Strive to be respectful and calm, but always defend those you love
9) Loyalty matters – in everything
10) Make memories for your family, even if the camera blocks your view
11) Fill your gas tank before the low fuel light comes on
12) Choose a husband that will be a great dad

The list holds. Powerful lessons and beautiful memories behind each one.

For this blog, my list was similar. But I’ll expand a bit (the beauty of a blog vs Facebook) and choose some of my favorite ones. I still love “what you do is not who you are”, but that one was recently covered.

So here’s the 2018 version of….

Lessons From My Dad
1) Be Grateful
This one came early in life. One of my earliest memories, in fact. We were fortunate kids growing up, but came from a long line of hard workers on both sides. It was distinctly important to never be spoiled. My grandparents were frugal, even though they achieved success in their lifetime. My parents worked very hard to create a nice life for us. At the time, I didn’t really realize how far my family had come in a few generations, from farmers scraping by during the Depression to the nice life I grew up in.

So, that morning – I must have been 5 or 6 – was a memorable morning. Even at that age, I cared about fashion. I had distinct ideas about what I wanted to wear. Always. On this day, someone (I’m guessing my mom) had dressed me in a mint green Garanimals ensemble (do you remember Garanimals? Essentially matching separates. The fact that I remember shows how much I overthought my attire at the age). I hated mint green. I believe I threw a royal fit. Enough of a fit that my dad, who rarely got angry, gave me a good lecture on the importance of gratitude. And being grateful for what we had. Embrace the gifts you have in life. Be Grateful. There was no tolerance for bratty behavior. The lesson stuck. And I’ve embraced a lifetime of gratitude (mostly😊) ever since.

2) Work Hard and Create the Life You Want
My family has an amazing legacy of hard work. My dad’s parents were farmers and spent their lifetime building the family farm. Even after they had a successful farm, my grandma got up at 4:30am every day, canned jam and vegetables for the family cellar, and worked at the local shoe factory – because she could. She also had perfectly coifed hair, a persistent self-manicure, and loved pretty jewelry. My grandpa worked daily on the farm – often hard physical labor – well into his upper 80’s – because he could. Even after a tree fell on his face and shattered his jaw. He was a man of the land and worked hard.

My dad did not fall far from the tree. He graduated college early and was a high school teacher before becoming the counselor at the local high school. He also developed several farms, was a hands-on cattle farmer (often doing his own veterinary work), and was a real estate broker on the side. He worked hard for our family and to give us every opportunity. To this day, he works on his farms and stresses us all out because of the physical labor he still does single-handedly. But he does it anyway – because he can.

I never remember being lectured about the importance of hard work. It was just understood. I was taught by example. You worked hard. You were in charge of creating the life you want. Nothing comes easy in life, so you better be prepared to work for it. And we did. All three of us girls. We ended up with graduate degrees, all were accomplished athletes, and now we focus on building a future for our own children.

3) Expect the Best
This is another vivid memory. I was in high school and a boy friend was hanging out at our house with some other friends. Note the intentional spelling of “boy friend” vs “boyfriend.” In the somewhat common way of teenagers, this particular boy friend was not being particularly kind to me. A people pleaser at heart, I was bending over backward to appease and earn back goodwill. When he left the house, I was in tears.

My dad was having none of that. I remember he was so angry at the boy. He gave me another well-deserved, and brilliant, lecture. It went something like this… “Anyone that makes you sad, or doesn’t bring out the best in you, is not worth your time. They are not worthy. This boy….is not worthy. Save your time, your attention, the best of you… for people who are worthy. You deserve in the best in life. Surround yourself with people who see that. Who encourage you. And that are worth your time.”

This is one of the most important life lessons for us all. I’ve returned to it many times over the years. Because yes, in life, there are people who are simply not worthy. It’s become a mantra for me at times in certain situations, said in my head, “you are not worthy” to remind myself of my self-worth. For all of our children, they should expect the best. I am grateful for this lesson. It’s a good one.

4) Be Quietly Kind and Generous
One of the reasons I love going to my hometown is to see people who I grew up with. Inevitably, often, when I’m out and about, I hear stories about my parents. My mom taught kindergarten for over 20 years and her students still remember her. I hear about her kindness and how she made each child feel special – including many who didn’t feel special at home. My dad has a generosity that extends across his various jobs and in his daily life. I frequently hear stories of his generosity – of which he’s never shared with me. Gifts of time, resources, knowledge, wisdom, and financial assistance. I never knew it at the time because I was fortunate in high school and didn’t need much counseling. But I later learned how he had helped kids – some in my own universe – through teenage pregnancies, violent situations at home, depression, eating disorders, and other really tough situations. He helped countless kids earn college scholarships and others who weren’t college bound plot a path to a successful life in other ways. I am in awe of his quiet generosity.

My favorite story is more pedestrian, but a bit of a classic. My wedding was on July 3rd – intentionally chosen so our Seattle friends could attend and we could throw an epic week-end of fun for our friends – a fun mix of hometown buddies, college friends, and Seattle friends. It was not easy to get to my hometown – literally 4 hours from the nearest major airport. To this day, I’m surprised I didn’t factor that into the planning more. But I wanted to get married in my hometown. The day after my wedding (which was pretty epic by all accounts), we rented pontoon boats and a large group took over a local lake in northern Arkansas. It was an incredibly fun day and my dad orchestrated it all. About half way through the day, one of the groomsman speaks up and says, “Oops, my flight is leaving later this afternoon. Do you think I can make it?” As I recall, his flight was in about 5 hours. We were a solid four hours from the airport in the middle of a large lake. My dad, being my dad, volunteers to drop everything and “run him” to the airport – a nearly 9 hour round trip. No problem. That’s my dad in a nutshell. Even though the friend would have been hard-pressed to actually make the flight, my dad was willing to give it a shot. Luckily, the flight was missed and more fun was had.

5) Tell a Great Story
My dad can tell a great story. It may not be a fast story, told in his southern drawl and rich with details. But they are typically full of humor, memorable and enjoyable for us. Another wedding story illustrates this. A different groomsman had a bathroom emergency and another friend was trying to distract my dad from going down a hallway while said emergency was being cleaned up. The friend quickly asked my dad a few questions about the hallway of family photos – and was rewarded with stories rich with details, proud moments, and the love of a storytelling dad shining through. He shared so many stories, he forgot he was heading down the hallway for a reason and was distracted from the disaster at hand. Mission accomplished. Just a proud dad telling stories.

I like to think my love of storytelling and writing comes from this side of my family. My grandpa was the same way. Some of my favorite childhood memories are sitting on my grandparent’s porch with the breeze blowing, listening to my dad and grandpa tell stories. Often these stories had underlying meaning if you listened closely enough. I love my dad’s stories and am grateful every time he gets rolling. It’s history, it’s memories, it’s pure love.

6) Family is Everything
This one sounds cliché, but is so meaningful to me. When I think about my dad, my first memories are not how hard he worked. They center around how much he has always loved me. To this day, if I have an accomplishment – big or small – he is the first person I want to call. I can’t count the number of times I have heard “I’m so proud of you.” What a gift that is, to know you are deeply, deeply loved and to believe at the depths of your soul that your hero is proud of you.

I was a runner growing up and my dad was always there to cheer me on. Typically holding a camcorder the size of a small microwave on his shoulder. He missed so much action trying to film me. But he knew the memories were a gift. And when I go home, I have a literal library of VHS tapes to choose from. Someday I will convert them to digital, not so much because I want to relive each race, but because the tapes are illustrative of a father’s love.

I had a lot of great days growing up. And a few tough ones. And as life has progressed, even more. My dad has been a rock of strength. A source of inspiration. The most treasured hug. A shoulder to cry on. And a gift to me always.

I love you dad.

It’s a wonderful thing when you pick your head up, look around, and feel in your soul that yes, life is good.

I’ve had a very happy few weeks. For no particular reason really. Just experiences that reinforce gratitude for the people in my life. Who I love. Who love me. And who I can count on to bring a smile to my face and contentment in my heart.

The experiences have a few similarities – time with people I love, moments that break up the routine of regular life, and often involving time with nature. There really is nothing like a beautiful sunset or view to bring contentment.

My first moment was a date night with my husband. We went to the Salish Lodge last minute and enjoyed a short hike (a few times) to the Snoqualmie Falls waterfall. Is there anything more majestic than a waterfall? I think not. It was a beautiful afternoon in the middle of the week (playing hooky from work is so exciting!!). The sun was out. The walk through the woods was beautiful. When we reached the bottom of the hike and looked up at the waterfall, I laid down on a large rock, put my face up to the sun, and reminded myself how very lucky I am. Content.

Last week-end I drove my son to Portland for a basketball tournament. I love 1:1 time with my kids. As they are getting older, it feels increasingly special. Not a lot of nature in this trip – the 180 mile trip took 6.5 hours (ugh!). It largely rained the entire week-end. I even ran indoors on the hotel treadmill (typically avoided at all costs). But we had a great week-end. I love seeing him do something he loves with great buddies who happen to have super fun parents. Luckily we enjoy each other and can have mini-parties in the hotel lobby at night while the boys run havoc in the hotel. Or, in this case, hole up in a room to play Fortnite. I’m really hoping I got cool mom points for life as our room became the Fortnite room. My son brought our Xbox (which is also kind of cool because it is a special edition “I Made This” console I received for being on the Xbox team when it launched) and 10 stinky boys set up shop in our room. Including on my bed. Ew. But I love him. And seeing him happy makes my heart sing. Content. 

The day after we got back from Portland we were back on the road for a few nights for a special mom/son end-of-school year celebration. Same dynamics – great friends, beautiful location in eastern Washington, and joy at seeing my son in his element. It’s rare I get so much 1:1 time with my son. Amazing. And yes, Content.

My take-away? In life, sometimes it doesn’t take much to remind you that content is an easy end-state. All it takes is being grateful for what you have.

Often the end of school year feels hectic, crazed, and stressful. This year – I can honestly say, not so much. I now have 2 of 3 my kids out of school (including my now sophomore!) and I’m relaxed. Content. And ready for much more summer fun. Bring it summer…I’m ready for you!

Today started with a peaceful walk in the woods. Well, it’s an arboretum – in the middle of Seattle – but it feels like the woods. Particularly if the woods have a nicely manicured trail.

But anyway. There are lots of trees and flowers and overgrown greenery. It is peaceful and quiet. I love it.

During today’s walk, I was already feeling calm and content. It’s been a good week-end. Peaceful without a lot to do, yet filled with some of my favorite things – time with the ones I love the most, some yummy dinners, girl talk, a few runs, and a few things that make me feel accomplished. Sunday this week was leisurely – with absolutely nothing that had to be done. These are rare in our family, so I love to soak it up when I have the chance.

There were a few things on my mind….

The exuberance of youth. Early on our walk, a little boy comes sprinting to us. Full on sprint. Huge grin on his face. The kind of run that makes you nervous as a mom that the kid is running so fast that he will bite it hard. He stopped right before us, looked up, and said, “TODAY’S MY BIRTHDAY!!! I AM FIVE!!!” He was so excited he was doing a little jig – full of exuberance and life. It was awesome. Such a big day! Five is a huge birthday.

And then I pondered…..how amazing would it be to go sprinting down a hill, full speed, with a huge grin on my face, shouting “TODAY I AM ALIVE! I AM 43!!!”

Unlikely. But why? Shouldn’t every day be a day to celebrate with the same exuberance as the little boy? He gave me a spring in my step and a smile on my face. It was a great reminder to celebrate each day.

The other thing on my mind was the gutsiness of youth. Not entirely sure that is a word, but you know….gutsy. Brave. Unquestioning. This lesson was courtesy of my son.

Like his mama, he is a writer. Except a blog would be way old school. He writes music – rap songs, to be specific. He and a buddy from his basketball team (who attends another school) started writing songs together, performing them, putting them on Soundcloud, and have developed a bit of a local following amongst their age group. I thought this was really quite cool – and gutsy – because some people are not kind online.

And then – they were invited to perform at a birthday party of one of his buddie’s classmates. For real. An actual real live performance. I was nervous for him, but didn’t say so.

But this kid, he couldn’t wait. He practiced with his buddy. They jumped on a real live stage. Rapped their hearts out to about 50 kids as lights and a DJ spun behind them. The crowd went crazy, kids had their phones out taking photos, and he even signed autographs. Crazy.

I only got to see the crowd’s reaction because a few videos were shared. It would be super uncool to have your mom at the performance. But I will treasure these videos. They make my heart so full. Of pride. Of joy. And of curiosity.

What if I approached my days with this same confidence? Never shying away from the opportunity to jump on stage – even if I am still learning? Even if someone else may be better? Why not me? That is the lesson from my son this week-end. If you get the chance to jump on stage, you jump. And you make a lifetime memory – no matter what. 

Hello old friend….just like that, a few weeks went by. I had the fun I promised myself and was so busy having fun I didn’t make time to write. And I have been consumed, consumed, consumed with the final stages of my house remodel.

I had nearly resigned myself that this blog might just go on hiatus until I finished the remodel. But tonight I missed writing and returned to one of my favorite recent books, Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic, for inspiration.

I opened the book to an interesting part – highlighted in pink pen, of course, because I am a nerd. I love to highlight what I read so I can revisit and easily see my favorite parts.

Big Magic is all about embracing your creative self. No rules, no expectations, just creating. Because.

Her book spoke to me because it encourages you to throw off expectations and just create. With purpose or without. With substance or frivolity. Whatever makes you happy.

The part I flipped to was about having an affair with your art. Likely provocative by design, the uber point is that people persist with efforts in life because they are in love. For creators? They need to treat their art like an affair. From Elizabeth, “When people are having an affair, they don’t mind losing sleep, or missing meals. They will make whatever sacrifices they have to make, and they will blast through any obstacles, in order to be alone with the object of their devotion and obsession – because it matters to them.” 

She encourages, “Let yourself fall in love with your creativity like that and see what happens. Stop treating your creativity like it’s a tired, old unhappy marriage (a grind, a drag) and start regarding it with the fresh eyes of a passionate lover. Even if you have only fifteen minutes a day in a stairwell alone with your creativity, take it. Sneak off and have an affair with our most creative self…..don’t think of your art as burdensome; think of it as sexy.”

I never thought about this blog as sexy! But WOW – now through an all new lens. I say this in jest – this will not be a sexy blog. But I love the push to embrace this blog with renewed passion and also per her encouragement, to write about what I know. And keep investing in your art – for whatever purpose makes you happy.

In many ways, designing a home from top to bottom has become my creative outlet. It will end soon. Along the way, I’m going to try to remember to visit this little lover of a blog with passion, reminded of the joy it has brought me.

It’s Mother’s Day 2018 and here’s a shout out to all the Mama’s that make the world go round.

Here’s to the Mama’s that ever decided to have a baby. There is nothing normal or easy about carrying a large bowling ball – and then delivering it – from your human body. This whole motherhood thing started out this side of crazy and it just keeps delivering.

Here’s to the Mama’s that have their hearts bursting with love. When their sweet young children make your heart ache with their open arms and innocent eyes.

Here’s to the Mama’s that have sullen teenagers. Who forget how to hug. Or answer questions beyond a syllable or two. You Mama’s rock.

Here’s to the Mama’s that see the best in their kids. And light up at their gifts and encourage, encourage them to pursue their dreams.

To those who see the worst in their kids too  – and keep pushing, pushing their kids to be their best self, learn from their mistakes, and make the world a better place.

Here’s to the Mama’s that see the best and the worst, and love it all regardless.

Here’s to the Mama’s that celebrate the wins and soak up the tears from the losses.

Who are the softest shoulders to hug, the best listeners when the chips are really down, and the best option when you need to be your most vulnerable self.

Here’s to the Mama’s with kids who have needs that are special – and who see their unique gifts to the world. With the utmost of love and patience. You, Mama’s, are my heroes.

Here’s to the Mama’s that sacrifice most of their free hours to drive, drive, drive. To school. To friends. To activities, activities, activities. Drive, drive, drive. No awards here, but wow, there really should be.

Here’s to the Mama’s and their devoted spots on the bleachers, at the baseball and soccer fields, basketball and volleyball courts, at the track and more. Rain, wind, or shine – you Mama’s cheer your precious athletes on, regardless of talent or skill.

Here’s to the Mama’s that encourage other gifts – singing, acting, creating, computing – whatever it may be, most of the time there is a strong Mama behind it.

Here’s to the Mama’s that are so tired! Because you never get enough sleep. You are the soother of nightmares, the cuddler extraordinaire, the custodian of nighttime barfs,  smoother of hair, turner of pillows, and house story teller/singer.

Here’s to the list makers, the worriers, the memory makers, the curfew keepers, and the rule setters. Mama’s keep lists like no other – both physical and mental, and their brains are always full, full, full of To-Do’s.

Here’s to the meal makers, the snack providers, and the endless lunches. Oh the endless lunches! Whether healthy cuisine or endless pasta or PB&J’s, this one also deserves an award.

Here’s to the Mama’s who support each other. Without judgement. With support, with laughs, and endless appreciation.

Here’s to the Mama’s who have seen every dream come true. And even more to the Mama’s who have had their hearts broken.

On this Mother’s Day, here’s to all who mother or have mothered. It’s the world’s most rewarding – yet hardest. job.

And I am so very grateful for my three children, who made me a mom. And for the village around me who helps my world go round.

And also, especially, for my own mom. Who taught me everything I could ever hope to know about being a mom. Balancing instruction with education. Cultivating a work ethic with a spirit of endless fun. The importance of being kind. Generous. And a good person to all. Gratitude for your gifts. And perseverance through your trials. Thank you, mom. I love you.

And for the other mama’s this Mother’s Day – I hope you had an amazing day.

The self-declared Happiest 5K on Earth delivered this morning. SO MUCH FUN!!

If I could do a Color Run every morning, I totally would.

Today’s was extra special because it’s Mother’s Day. And my oldest daughter agreed to run with me. Even though it meant getting out of bed at 6:50am – on a Sunday. We had never run a fun run together and as a lifelong runner, today is now one of my favorite running moments ever.

My whole family was going to do it together – my one request for Mother’s Day. But my son’s basketball tournament landed a game this morning, so it was just my oldest daughter and I. And did we ever make the most of it.

It was a beautiful morning with the sun shining brightly and the sky so very bright blue. The starting line was full of energy with a great DJ/host and the crowd singing everything from Sweet Caroline to Best Day of my Life. We were dancing and being silly and singing loudly and taking selfies. Once the run started, it was more of a trot. It is such a fun run that they don’t even time it. I love it. The whole goal is to simply enjoy. 

We ran through clouds of color mist and bubbles. We watched our white t-shirts become tie dyed with green then yellow then blue and more. Each rainbow of color squirted at us and we were ridiculously messy by the end of the 5K.

And then the real fun began! They have a DANCE PARTY at the finish line. This is my kind of run. After several songs, they have a massive color dousing where packets of color are thrown in the air. We were completely coated in color.. And it was the best thing ever. My shirt was a million colors. My hair was mostly red with touches of blue. My legs and arms were coated in color powder. It was simply amazing.

I’ll never forget singing “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana with my daughter. Jumping around and dancing like maniacs. While color rained down. An epic moment. An epic memory.

It was such a reminder to seek out epic moments. I’m going to start looking for the next one.

This past week was a lovely reminder that sometimes you just need to stop for a moment and breathe.

Preferably surrounded by girlfriends.

After a few crazy weeks, I was ready for some relaxation. It is so important to set aside responsibilities on occasion and just be. Juggling a career and a family is tricky stuff. If not careful, you realize you’ve been hard charging everywhere, and not simply being enough. If you don’t take a moment to be, you end up not bringing your best self anywhere. 

So late last week I went in search of my best self. I think I found her on Whidbey Island.

It was our annual Book Club get-away. Two nights away with an amazing group of women who have been my friends for almost two decades. Usually we stay at a lovely home with the most beautiful beach views on Whidbey Island. Last year we did it up in Vegas. It was one for the books.

This year, we returned to Whidbey. It was the perfect pace for me this year. I was ready for a few great meals, girl talk, a drink or two, and nothing on the agenda but pure girl time.

It was bliss. We met at a dive bar near the ferry boat and laughed and talked over pub food and pitchers of specialty beer. After hours of conversation we finally boarded the ferry boat and arrived at Whidbey around 10:30pm. Then, it was more laughs and silliness and 80s music. My night capped with a sleepover in the bunk room with two dear friends. We talked like teenagers until 2:30am. Amazing.

After sleeping in, I woke up for a run around my favorite Whidbey loop – the last mile or so on the beach. We had a late leisurely breakfast, followed by sitting in the sun and sharing more stories. Eventually, we got ready for the day and went into the little town of Langley for shopping and lunch. You know you’ve had an amazingly lazy day when lunch ends at 5pm. Of course, lunch extended from appetizers to salads to a few rounds of my very favorite Island White wine from a local Whidbey winery. The sun was shining, the laughs were plentiful.

Our next agenda item was our annual summer wine test – designed to locate the best summer wines. Typically heavy on rose’, everyone brought a bottle for a blind taste test. We arranged a circle of chairs in the sun, enjoyed our taste test and talked and giggled straight through the evening.

Two nights. Two sunny days. Seven girlfriends made it this year. I left refreshed, renewed, and full of giggles. My best self found.

Thank you, yet again, book club.

I had a few different blogs in my head today. I really meant to write something uplifting…instead I’m going to hopefully write something thoughtful.

All my possible blog topics went out the window when I went downstairs to hang out with my oldest daughter. As often happens, she was FaceTiming with a friend and we started chatting. He was very polite and after asking about my day asked a brilliant question, “Did you have any fun today?”

Such a great question.

I paused. And paused some more. And then thought super hard. And I had no answer.

It kind of stopped me in my tracks. Of course I should have had some fun today!

But, I really didn’t.

I had an accomplished day. Wrapping up a big work project that I’ve been working on for months. Usually I really like what I do. This was not one of those projects. I was super ready to wrap this project with a big bow and send it on its merry way. So, yay! Project complete. High fives all around! But this one was not really fun.

I went in early to kick my project out the door so I didn’t get a work out or anything energizing and fun to start the day. Hmm. I did listen to some amazing music on my commute in, but that really shouldn’t make the cut.

When I got home I had to hustle to the house project to meet with a patio/landscape designer. Kind of fun?

Then it was running kids around to various activities, grabbing dinner…and then… the FaceTime conversation that made me pause.

I need to have some fun right now!! A day should not end without fun, right? 

So tonight my fun is going to be writing this little blog, enjoying a large glass of wine, and curling up with a book I love. It’s a true story and a motivator, my favorite kind. Not kick up your heels fun, but enjoyable.

Tomorrow night I will kick up my heels. It’s book club overnight!! We’re escaping for two nights and I plan to have lots of fun. Then on Sunday, I’m going to do the Color Run with my daughter. That, too, will be lots of fun. Then next week, I’m meeting my very favorite girls (my mom and two sisters) for an epic trip that I had a lot of fun planning. I cannot wait. That will be amazingly fun!

So the good news is that there is lots of fun on the horizon!

But today was a good reminder that every day should have some fun. On a day like today, I’m going to remember this conversation, and make sure I have a great answer to the fun question next time.

Today’s post is as frivolous as last night’s was heavy. It’s a good balance, right?

Today I did one of my very favorite things – a mani/pedi. I love pretty nails. They make me feel more polished and put together. You can choose whatever colors you want. And the whole experience is just luxuriating.

When I walk in the door of my local spa (and I use the term spa loosely here – it’s in a strip mall and not fancy, but I like the ladies who run it), I am in immediate relaxation zone. There is no checking my phone (unless urgent message from my kids). There is no responding to emails piling up in my inbox (even though it can be tempting to multi-task). There is no talking. There is simply just sitting, getting pampered. While I watch HGTV on infinite loop. They massage your feet, legs, arms, shoulders and hands. It’s really pretty much heaven.

While I was getting my nails down today, I nearly fell asleep. Multiple times. Head nodding in the big comfy chair. The poor woman that was holding my hand to paint my fingernails had to prop it up multiple times. That, my friends, is total relaxation.

Of course, like many ordinary things, the mani/pedi experience is extraordinary to me. Symbolic of the importance of prioritizing myself.

Years ago when my kids were smaller, I would get to the end of the week-end and be completely wiped out. I worked hard at work, played hard at being a mom, and was 100% present for both. Then you throw in the house/life stuff like laundry, groceries, etc. and I would be exhausted rather than refreshed. I took great pride in my ability to juggle being a great mom with a career until I finally realized I was dropping a very important ball – myself.

I would pause and try to remember what I had done to relax and recharge over the week-end. As I finished the week’s laundry at 10pm after the kids went to bed. For weeks I literally couldn’t think of anything. Except a run here or there, which was for me, but also just important for health.

So one Sunday I decided to try something new. I decided to paint my nails after I put the kids to bed. So silly that it had to even be a decision. But it became symbolic. You can’t work on the family calendar with wet fingernails. Or fold laundry. Or do a million chores. Or send email. Instead, you have to sit still. It’s forced relaxation. So I started painting my nails every Sunday night. I enjoyed having pretty hands and I loved the discipline of my forced relaxation.

This sounds incredibly lame as I type this, but I swear it worked! It was the first time I looked up after becoming a mom and reminded myself that I, too, matter. I deserve to be happy, I deserve to be refreshed, and I deserve to do things – even frivolous things – if they bring me joy.

Since then, I’ve found more ways to prioritize myself along the way. A few years ago I switched from self mani’s to my little neighborhood spa. With the advent shellac (a special polish), I really only need to go once every three weeks. Which is super efficient. But I miss my Sunday night discipline a bit. Not enough to skip the spa, but the lesson remains.

The lesson here is not the importance of pretty nails. It’s about prioritizing yourself. Making time to do something that makes you happy. Because we are all so worth it. 

So here’s to doing whatever you want – at least a little bit each day. I don’t view this as a weakness or luxury. I view it as fortitude, strength and that’s right, the toughness, to know that you matter too.