Category: Uncategorized

Phew. Move survived. There really is nothing fun about moving. This week-end was pure go, go, go setting up the new rental house and moving the final stuff from the soon-to-be-remodeled house. I love to set up the house as quickly as possible, making sure the kids are comfortable with their space set up exactly as they want it. And all the clutter, boxes, and stuff moved out as quickly as possible. Everything really, as quickly as possible.

Phew.

Not much fun at all.

Except.

When you throw an Empty House Party!

It started when I realized we would be moving in such close proximity to Halloween. How awesome would it be to create the most epic haunted house in our empty house before it was remodeled? When do you get the chance to destroy your house without a care in the world?

Except.

I had no energy to create a haunted house. I didn’t even want to clean a house, post move.

But then I reminded myself of one of my work mantra’s “don’t let the quest for perfection be the enemy of the good.” I’ve had to embrace this mantra many, many times at work while also trying to be a great mom over the years.

Turns out, it applies to party planning too.

I figured the easiest party on earth should be an Empty House Party. Invite neighbors and friends. Set the bar really low with no expectations.

So this was the online invite, sent just a few days in advance:

We’re moving on Friday with our remodel starting on Monday. So what better way to spend Saturday night than an Empty House party??!! We’ll have no furniture. No dishes. No food. But we’ll have a keg, champagne, Solo cups, good tunes, and great people. Feel free to bring your drink of choice if you wish. Come on by anytime.

And it was so much fun. Such a great reminder that really great friends really don’t need a whole lot. We had a great send-off for the soon-to-be-remodeled house, including seeing a few walls come down. Turns out it’s hard to resist kicking (me), punching (not me), or even head-butting (not me either) a wall down. This is post-party.

After a hectic move, a few drinks with friends was a great way to wrap a move. I highly recommend Empty House Party if you get a chance.

Yesterday we completed the big move to our rental house. Like probably every move ever, it was not super fun. But I was fortunate for a few reasons:

• It was a gorgeous day. Simply gorgeous. Sun was shining brightly, the sky was blue, the trees were vivid. It really beats moving in the rain, which I’ve done before.
• We only moved about half a mile away. It is super easy to load up our vehicles with all of the random stuff we didn’t have the movers move. I still have more loads to go today. But it beats moving across the country in a very small car, which I’ve done before.
• Our movers were super nice. Very accommodating. They were very helpful as I had them re-arrange and re-locate a few items to see the best way to optimize space in rooms. It beats movers who aren’t problem solvers, which I’ve had before.
• I am in good shape, capable of lifting, and full of energy. It beats moving homes while 8 months pregnant, which I’ve done before.
• My three kids are big enough to actually help – or at least not dramatically slow the process. Moving with toddlers is super hard, which I’ve done a few times before.

So, all in all, in the grand scale of moves, it was OK. My mom is in town to help and the house was largely set up before the kids got home from school. Now there’s a benefit of moving into a small house! The garage is full of stuff, but it’s organized and I’m grateful to have a large garage that holds our extra stuff, with enough room for a treadmill set up – kind of like an outdoor gym if you open the garage door!

And all of my favorite stuff has largely found a reasonable home. Getting dressed will be a bit of an adventure with clothes and shoes in two different closets on two different floors, but I think my system will work (want a dress or nice outfit? Downstairs closet! Want a cute top and jeans or pants? Go to Taylor’s room!). Sometimes you have to laugh at the silliness of it all.

But the best part of moving was hanging out in our living room last night. Freshly showered after a busy day of work. Stomachs full of pizza. A great glass of wine. And we are UNPLUGGED. Comcast can’t come until Tuesday, so other than hotspots and data, we are unplugged for the week-end. So, hotspots and data let you cheat, of course, but no TV, no Internet.

Our big kids joined us in the living room – and wait for it – we talked for hours. When do teenagers talk for hours? I will tell you. When they are bored and have nothing else to do. So, we talked and laughed. My daughter braided my hair into cornrows. My son played with Zoe, our dog, who is trying to figure out where the heck she is. We considered playing a board game, but the board game box is buried in the garage. So, we talked about school, good memories, music and more. Nothing substantial, but such a great way to end the day.

I’m relatively confident unplugged will be less appealing today, and you realize how dependent we all are on the Internet. I have a big work project underway and can’t entirely unplug. Homework is largely online for both of my big kids. Other life stuff, invitations, newsletters, etc. require the Internet. But for one night, we unplugged. And it was awesome.

Lately I’ve been thinking about stuff. Physical stuff. And how I have ever so much of it.

You see, I’ve been packing and packing and packing stuff. And it makes you realize how much stuff you have. And how little you really need.

I’m moving homes on Friday. Moving a family of five – and a dog – is so.much.work. And this is our second move in 9 months. And we’ll move again (hopefully) in another 10 months.

The only thing worse than moving so frequently is moving into much smaller homes each time. It’s true you expand to the space you have. And moving into smaller spaces takes extra thought. Planning. And prioritization of stuff.

It started several years ago when I began looking for a new home. Seattle is a tough market – the city is growing fast and it’s a seller’s market. Crazy prices. Homes sell quickly so you have to be very decisive – and perhaps overpay. And we didn’t really want to move, so motivation waned.

We lived in our last house for 12 years. It was an extensive remodel. We bought it for its location and view. And then we spent 1.5 years making it perfect. I chose every light fixture, piece of tile, faucet, molding detail, and paint color. It was an extensive process, but we loved the outcome. It was a great home for our family – full of friends, play dates, and memories.

But, a few years ago I realized it had become the wrong house for our family. It had too many stairs for our daughter, who has limited mobility. Stairs to the bedrooms. Stairs to the playroom. Stairs to the backyard. So, I started looking at houses in our favorite neighborhoods.

I looked at so many houses. Most weren’t close to perfect. Either location, floor plan, or work required. Initially we didn’t want another remodel. So.much.work. And our lives are much busier now than before.

But increasingly over time, it became clear that was the likely path. The perfect house didn’t seem to exist. So, finally, after a few offers for homes we didn’t get, we bought our current house. We bought it for its neighborhood, its community, great lot, and potential. This was last October.

Then we sold our favorite house in less than four days. I had been de-cluttering and preparing for years, but it was still so.much.work to prepare a house for sale and then move out. I kind of wish I had counted the trips to Goodwill because it would have been truly remarkable. We had a long closing – on purpose – because we wanted to stay in our bigger house as long as possible while we had our remodel plans created by our favorite architect.

We moved into our new house in early February. We got settled pretty quickly – I had organized stuff so a lot of our stuff went into a big storage area in our basement, or a rented storage unit. No need to unpack everything when it would just need to be re-packed. And, we had about 1000 fewer square feet to fit into.

All things considered, it went pretty smooth. We got settled quickly. Our kids love our new neighborhood. They have tons of friends close by and our neighbors are wonderful. Carpools are easy. The summer was awesome, with the pool and other fun just a golf cart ride away. I can dart down a hill to my favorite running trail.

Meanwhile, we submitted our plans to the city of Seattle in early March. And time stood still. We initially hoped we’d get started on our remodel in May. Then the city said they would respond to our plans – in August. So we mentally prepared to enjoy the summer in our home and embraced a <sort of> patient approach.

Then August became September. And we were told we would hear back in October. Barring disaster – or more delays – a permit was likely by November. Ugh. Eight months for a permit?? For real?

Meanwhile, we had a contractor all lined up. He was ready to go. Because we are adding an entire floor and removing the roof, we were hoping to get ahead of the rain. Not happening.

Eventually we had to roll the dice and assume the city would – eventually – come through. So we got the necessary community approvals (a formality, but good to be a good neighbor). I started packing stuff that we hadn’t used since we unpacked it in February. Sigh. Luckily a great rental house (owned by friends) fell in our lap. It’s about half a mile away, so super convenient for our carpools and our kids to be close to the neighborhood they have fallen in love with. It has been recently remodeled and is nice and clean and updated.

But it is small. We’re going down another 1000 square feet. One of our kids will need to make the <small> rec room in the basement their bedroom. We will be cozy. And we don’t need stuff to trip over for the next 10 (likely 12) months.

So, I’ve been packing and packing and packing. Moving day is Friday. Hurray! I’m so ready to get this remodel underway. And we gambled correctly – our permit came through on Saturday. It’s as if we planned it perfectly!

So I’ve been making piles of stuff. Stuff for storage. Stuff to go to the small rental. Stuff to be stored in the large garage of the new rental. Important memories and photo albums to protect at all costs. Fragile stuff I love to pack and stack with care. More stuff to Goodwill.

You really realize how much stuff you have. And how much stuff you don’t need. What are the essentials for the kitchen? What are my favorite clothes and shoes and bags? The closets are small, so this is real work. What kid stuff do we absolutely need, and what can go to storage?

It has been a productive few weeks. And my favorite reinforcement (my mom) got here late last week to help. So this week-end, between basketball tournament games, Tolo dress shopping, Halloween costume buying, homework, hang out time and a run – we packed, and organized, and moved a mountain of boxes into storage.

I feel pretty prepared for the move this week and look forward to getting the keys to our rental house tonight. The thing about stuff is that you realize you actually don’t need much of it. When I think about unpacking, I’m not daunted at all. When you strip it down to the necessities, you can travel pretty light.

Because really, all you need is your favorite people. And your very favorite things. The rest is just stuff.

This week has brought yet another cultural moment that has made me pause and think. And think and think. It started with the sad saga of Harvey Weinstein, the Hollywood producer who was exposed as a serial sexual harasser/abuser via a New York Times article. As more and more famous celebrities shared their stories of harassment at the hands of Weinstein, including Gwyneth Paltrow and Angelina Jolie, the world was shocked that even seemingly talented and powerful actresses were left at the mercy of a producer that made – and destroyed – careers of many Oscar winners. Weinstein himself has won over 80 Oscars and his perceived power and influence in Hollywood was apparently legendary – so legendary that Tinsel Town kept his secret for over three decades.

As I read more and more about the story, all I could think at first was “ewwww.” I met Weinstein a few times at various work functions – and I thought “ewwww” then too. He is the type of man who looks you up and down – slowly – and then looks you in the eye with a seeming invitation. The irony is he is far from conventionally handsome and I thought he reeked of sleaziness. I was right. The thought of him offering massages, meeting talented artists for meetings in his bathrobe, and far, far worse makes my skin crawl.

Then it got more interesting. The actress Alyssa Milano started a hashtag movement #metoo – encouraging women to share their stories of sexual harassment and abuse to raise awareness of how prevalent it is. The impact was incredible – so many women, so many stories – literally hundreds of thousands. Including famous people. Including everyday people. Including people I love.

I had shared my own #metoo stories a few months ago when the Taylor Swift groping incident was in the news. My experiences – more than I have written about – are mild compared to most. But each one leaves a mark. And it breaks my heart to hear from so many women and knowing their lives have been forever changed from their own stories.

I also found it encouraging – and heartwarming – how many amazing men on my social feeds acknowledged they had no idea. They were shocked and saddened at the prevalence. And they wanted to help it stop.

I think it is great this conversation is at the forefront. In certain industries, certainly, and potentially in any workplace, running trail, school cafeteria, dance club and more, the prevalence is real. It is so good to reinforce this behavior is unacceptable. And should not be tolerated in any way.

For me, it brought back more memories. Of seeing a man masturbate on a running trail. Of avoiding rape (twice) on other running trails due to luck and good fortune (on my chosen routes in two different cities, women were attacked at the exact time of day I would typically be on the trail. I will be forever grateful it wasn’t me). Of being groped on dance floors. Of being asked to dance with a male executive early in my career because he “liked pretty girls.”

But mostly I am grateful. I don’t have near the memories of many women. And I feel incredibly fortunate that I have typically had great friends – male and female – who have helped protect me and supported me. Stepped in and told an unwanted guy to back off. Promoted me at work on the basis of my skills.

One thing I don’t like is the almost anti-male tone of some of the rhetoric I see. While certainly we can all probably do better, creating “us” vs “them”, or “female” vs “male” won’t improve things. Understanding, awareness and communication can. And celebrating the men and women who want the world to be a safe and respectful place.

Another thing I don’t think has been addressed – and I am playing with serious fire here, I realize – is the role of women in this. As we’re seeing from this movement, we women also have to be brave enough to speak up. We need to support each other. And we need to be allies, not competitors, in the workplace.

An interesting dynamic I have faced – along with many strong women I know – is that fellow women can actually be your toughest adversaries at work. In my experience, I’ve had female colleagues start rumors about me, suggest promotions were perhaps due to more than my expertise, said my influence was driven by being “liked” by executives – who yes, statistically – are male. I find this so incredibly offensive and so against what I believe. We need a serious girl code that is respected and doesn’t seek to tear others down on their way up.

This extends to management too. Earlier in my career, I was coached extensively by more senior female leaders to not be too pretty. Cut my hair. Dress uber professional, even in a casual workplace. Perhaps I should wear glasses. That my appearance could work against me because people wouldn’t take me seriously.

So for several years early in my career, I had a not-so-cute mom bob. I wore khaki pants and button up shirts to avoid sending off any potential signals. I was a serious professional.

Then, after marriage and a few kids, I decided, all done with that. It helped to have several years of professional success under my belt. Earned – by my capabilities, not my khaki pants. The workplace – it turns out – could handle my long blond hair. A normal wardrobe. A smile here and a joke there. Being human and embracing strengths is really good career advice.

The irony is that the advice from these seasoned females made me feel far more objectified than anything a man has ever said to me in the workplace. This was many years ago but I don’t doubt young women are still receiving similar advice.

My take from the #metoo movement is relatively simple. There are a lot of women who have had tragic, unfortunate events happen to them. Yet, so many are strong and thriving. Hopefully their voices will bring awareness and a sense of responsibility to appropriate behavior.

I also hope we don’t lose sight of the goodness in the world. For young women following the movement, I hope they can also learn that there are many, many good men in the world. That the workplace, or the running trail, or wherever, can be safe – and fun – and amazing.

The thrill of adventure is a gift that is good for the soul. It keeps you young. Vibrant. And a reminder that life is ever so good.

I spent the last 4 days in Scottsdale, Arizona. After a tough few weeks, it was so good to get away – even though I just got away a few weeks ago to Fayetteville. I’ve never taken two trips in such close proximity in the fall, so this was unusual. But the Scottsdale trip had been booked for months – alongside around 30 of our neighbors – and the Fayetteville trip was a late-call serendipitous surprise.

It is always tough to leave three kids and all of their activities behind. I am so grateful for amazing grandparents who make this possible. The gift of renewal is such….a gift.

But boy, is leaving town so hard. Any mom knows what I’m talking about. We have moved beyond the years of tears and “don’t leave me!!” but are in the thick of schedule madness.

For this trip, I typed out three pages of instructions, arranged numerous carpools with different families, and left detailed instructions for birthday parties, other celebrations, and sporting events. I left clean clothes all ready for each of them – for various sporting events, fancy functions and more. Groceries needed to be arranged and because cousins were staying at our house too, three different beds prepared the night before departure. Combined with texting my big kids through-out the day regarding various details, leaving town is no small feat.

But so worth it. I had a great time with treasured friends. Made deeper bonds with newer friends. Sat in the sun for hours and hours. Ate my weight in chips, salsa, and guacamole. Danced and danced – again! This time at a place called the Whiskey Row.

There were many highlights, but one stands out in its uniqueness. Saturday morning – after staying up way too late Friday night (morning?) – I went for a hike on Camelback Mountain. I wasn’t daunted by the idea of a hike. I’m in relatively good shape and a hike can be….kinda like walking, right? I love to hike in new places and see different landscapes.

But let me tell you – Camelback Mountain is legit! It is not long – a little over a mile up and down, but it is straight up. And super rocky. In many places you are literally climbing up rocks on all fours or crab crawling down rocks to avoid plunging off a mountain. One trip or skid on the gravelly, rocky path could end really badly. There are a few places so steep they have installed railings to hang on to. They airlifted two people out the day we climbed – largely due to dehydration.

It was such a blast. It pushed me out of my comfort zone. It was challenging physically – both because of the climbing aspect – and the sleep deprivation, a lack of breakfast, and some dehydration from the day before. It required focus to not lose your footing, to plot out the best path and to not become distracted.

And it was beautiful. There is something about new terrain that is so inspiring. That the landscape can be so different a few hours from home is always surprising. The sky was blue. The reds of the mountain were vivid and the occasional wildflower popped. I tried to soak it all in while focusing on staying on my feet.

At the top, you have to pause for a minute and really look around. Enjoying the feeling of accomplishment. The camaraderie of those you climbed with and the other climbers. And the gorgeous view.

Then, back down the mountain to enjoy a massive breakfast burrito and a day at the pool.

If I ever get a choice, I will choose adventure. The opportunity to try something new. To push yourself. To create a memory. It’s a beautiful thing.

I really, really, really wanted to write this blog since Friday. But I had to wait and see how it would end before I knew what to write.

It started on Thursday morning. I had a series of routine medical tests my primary doctor had prescribed. I was pretty proud of myself – proactive health management and all. I went through the motions and mentally checked off the boxes – blood work, check, mammogram, check, other tests, check. All done! Yay for me for being on top of my health! And I went to work, dove into a special project, and thought nothing of it.

Friday started like most Friday’s. I took my daughter to an appointment. Went to work. Wrote a blog – for work this time. Went to a meeting. And then realized I had a voicemail. Picked up the unrecognized number nonchalantly and then my blood ran cold. “This is someone from the breast imagining clinic. You need to call us back immediately.”

WHAT? I listened to it again. WHAT? No.way. I have three kids that need to be raised still. They need their mom. I have a husband who loves me. I have a family and sisters who I love ever so deeply. I have friends who make me laugh and smile. Who will go on girl’s trips with me, join me at book club, and ride on mechanical Razorbacks with me. I have projects I’m passionate about and big ideas to conquer. I have trips to take and places to see. Miles to run and books to read. A house to remodel.

So.much.life.to.live. No way.

So I quickly called the clinic and was told “We see something we don’t like. You need to come in immediately for an ultrasound.”

Ummm….WHAT? I asked to speak to someone who could give me more information and was transferred to someone else. I asked for more information, shared that I was concerned and nervous, and was hoping they could share more.

Someone told me:
“Anytime we see abnormalities on a mammogram we need to do an ultrasound to get a closer look. It could be nothing. It could be something. You need to come in.”

“Of course. How about right now?”

“Will Tuesday work for you?”

“TUESDAY? Like, five days from now??”

Tuesday it was.

Now I can be a bit of a hypochondriac on a good day. And since my youngest daughter was diagnosed with a rare health condition, I’ve lost a bit of faith in the odds. I know what it is like to get a heartbreaking diagnosis when the odds are totally in your favor. Until they are not.

So I tried to advise myself that it was probably nothing. No need to worry. Worry wastes time and all that. But, I was FREAKING OUT. It was a long, long several days. I tried to stay busy. Talked to my family. Shed a few tears with my mom and sisters. Tried to seek renewal. Distracted myself at book club. Tried to tell myself that somehow it is always ok.

Finally this morning rolled around. I was grateful for a first thing appointment. I arrived early. With bells on. Let’s do it.

Gratefully, gratefully, gratefully it was a false alarm. I am totally, totally fine. IT WAS THE BEST DAY EVER!!!!

The silver lining of a health scare is that once you arrive on the other side, you are SO GRATEFUL. Everyday stresses seem completely meaningless. You hold the people you love closer. You realize that actually, truly every day is precious. These aren’t just words. They are truth.

So I skipped through the day today. I smiled brightly. Right now I am so giddy I want to go run a marathon. Or dance all night. And make the most of every moment.

But I want to share this experience because here is what I wish I would have known.

When I got the call I didn’t search – anything – on the Internet. Another side effect of receiving devastating health news – I know the Internet is a scary place. I decided searching for more information wouldn’t be helpful. Trying to distract myself was my chosen tactic.

I gave up late Monday night and did some searching. Here’s what I found:

• Breast cancer is a very common, and devastating cancer – in 2015, 231,840 new cases of invasive breast cancer and 40,290 deaths were expected in the U.S.
• While the diagnostic tests are good and improving, false positives are actually very common. The more mammograms a woman has, the more likely it is she will have a false positive result. The chance of having a false positive result after one mammogram ranges from 7-12%, depending on your age. After 10 yearly mammograms, the chance of having a false positive is about 50-60 percent.
• The chance of a false positive result is higher among younger women and women with dense breasts. (Most women younger than 50 have dense breasts so there’s overlap among these groups.)
• I’m not alone in being freaked out. Research has shown the freak-out is very common and women that have received false positive results are less likely to return for follow-up mammograms (85% percent of women who got a clean bill of health on a mammogram came back as scheduled the next time, compared to 80% of women who got a false positive).

As the Komen organization shares – false positive results are common and most women called back do not have breast cancer.

Don’t even get me started on why you aren’t told this information before your mammogram. Or certainly when called back. Maybe they don’t think people will take it seriously. Maybe they just have lousy bedside manner. But they should tell you this! So I share this with you today. In the hopes it will help someone.

And to still encourage my beloved lady friends to be proactive in their health management. One of the crazy things about breast cancer is there isn’t a standard recommendation on how often to get a mammogram or when to start. The recommendation ranges from age 40-50, depending on your family history and other factors. For this particular mammogram, my doctor told me some women would wait until age 50, some would go every year after age 40, and some would go every few years. Because I don’t have a family history, it was really up to me. For real? Why is this up to me? Shouldn’t there be standard guidance?

In the case of many women I know and love, we are so busy. We take care of our families. We know when our kid’s annual physicals are, who needs a flu shot, when the next orthodontic appointment is, when various specialty appointments need to be and so much more. It’s so easy to put ourselves on the back burner – or no burner. But we must prioritize our health. We are so worth it.

I deeply respect each woman’s right to choose what works best for them. For me, like probably everyone, I have watched people I love die from cancer. I’ve seen very good friends survive cancer. And I really, really want to avoid it at all costs.

So I am diligent with preventive health care. I am aggressive with screenings. And I am so, so, so grateful because I know even with all of this – any of us can receive that dreaded phone call and receive different results.

Life can change in an instant. So we really must make every instant count.

 

Last week was not awesome. In fact, a few days were just really not good days. There was a book I used to read my kids when they were smaller “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.” Last week felt terrible, horrible, no good, very bad at times. And this blog is supposed to be uplifting. So I took a hall pass on writing.

But today I return. This week-end was all about renewal and perspective and clarity. Saturday morning I woke up resolved to find beauty through-out the day. Even when the soccer game was overcast. Even when I drove my son to a friend’s house in a far-away Seattle neighborhood, which required a 80 minute round-trip in traffic. Even when I got soaking wet on my run.

I looked for beautiful trees. I noticed the blue sky and cool clouds. I searched for beauty. I actually loved the heavy rain that met me a few miles from home – grateful I grabbed a baseball hat on my way out the door. I had long talks with people I love. My mood lifted.

Then I was able to join a lovely group of ladies while our daughters got ready for their Homecoming dance – an informal affair, so it was all girls giggling and excited for the night ahead. Girl talk always lifts my spirits and it worked yet again.

Today I kept going. Seeking happiness and gratitude and clarity. I started the day bright and early with my favorite early bird, my youngest daughter who typically gets me out of bed around 6am. You really make the most of the day that way. After a few cups of coffee anyway.

I went to an Orange Theory class. I totally love Orange Theory. I’m a new convert. But the music is pumping! Loud! You lift weights, row on a rowing machine, and run sprints on a treadmill. It is awesome. An hour flies by and I work muscles that never get worked otherwise. You feel sore – in the best way – and the perfect amount of fatigue.

I went for a long walk in the woods. An Arboretum, actually. But it feels like the woods. It was peaceful and beautiful. Uplifting and renewing.

Finally, I enjoyed a little pampering at my favorite nail salon. They largely speak another language. It’s not fancy. But they have great massage chairs. I get pretty toes and fingernails. I can watch HGTV while I feel like a princess. I could sit there all day. It’s just the most lovely hour.

As I write this, I created my own little beautiful setting. My favorite glassy baby candles. Good tunes. A nice glass of wine. Ahhh….life can be so good.

Of course, life doesn’t stop for renewal. There was a mountain of laundry to fold. Some organizing and packing to do of crystal glasses that won’t see the light of day for nearly a year once we move. Kids to play with or hang out with. Weekly family calendars to organize. Homework to check. Muffins to make. Dessert to prepare for book club tomorrow night (yay!).

But I’m focused. And ready for the week. Bring it on. I’m ready for you.

Renewal is so important. Particularly when there are clouds over our heads for whatever reason. Sometimes we have to fight to make time for renewal. Or find the energy. But it is so worth it. Whatever brings you renewal, I hope you enjoyed it this week-end.

 

Wow. What a sobering few days. I really didn’t want to write about the worst mass shooting in modern US history, the terrible tragedy in Las Vegas. But then I didn’t feel right writing about anything else. It seemed acknowledgement was so important. And this tragedy really touched me.

I woke up to the news on Monday morning with a range of emotions. I’ve been trying to process them the last few days. How on earth could 58 innocent people die, with more than 500 injured, at a concert?

Here are the emotions I have felt:

1. Sadness. First and foremost, such sadness. That so much life could be senselessly lost. Imagining families losing children, parents, siblings and grandparents. Imagining the ripple effect of so much loss – the thousands of lives it will deeply touch. Imagining the horror of the thousands at the concert. The sheer terror of not knowing where to go or how to escape. This is the first mass tragedy that was so well recorded and shared – the fear, terror, and tragedy of it all was so tangible. Like the worst reality TV show you could imagine. The last time I saw such a thing was the footage from 9/11. I’ve tried a few things to help manage the sadness – trying not to watch or read too much. Learning more about those lost is so heartbreaking.

2. Gratitude. Such a strange word to use in reference to a tragedy. But with so many of these tragedies, don’t most of us think, “That could so have been me.”? It hits so close to home. I was just in Vegas in May and July. I’ve been to outdoor concerts on top of the Cosmopolitan. I was standing on top of the World Trade Center one month before its collapse. I’ve cheered at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. I’ve meandered down the Ramblas in Barcelona – and planned a trip for my parents to be on the Ramblas two weeks after the Barcelona attack. Just off the top of my head, so many times I could have been in the path of terror, just like those poor souls. What serious bad luck for them and what gratitude I feel that it wasn’t me or those I love.

3. Anger. This has become the big one over the last day. I am so mad. So mad that we have this type of terror in our world. So mad that anyone thinks any human being needs to own a machine gun. Or 52 rifles. Or bump stocks (legal, by the way and available for cheap online) that turn an ordinary gun into an automatic weapon. A semi-automatic weapon can fire 45-60 rounds per minute. With a handy little bump stock, the weapon can fire between 400-800 rounds per minute. Completely insane that this is legal. So mad that you could check 10 suitcases full of artillery into a hotel and no one even notice.

And so mad that our government could actually vote – recently – to make it easier for the mentally ill to get guns. Or to create such loopholes – at gun shows and via secondary markets – that the well-intended background checks that are in place are incredibly easy to avoid. That our fine country has the worst gun violence – by order of magnitude – of anywhere in the developed world. In fact, the US has 5% of the world’s population and over 30% of the world’s mass shooters. Why aren’t we absolutely rioting the government to DO something? So upset that I have Facebook friends that make comments comparing those wanting gun control to the same people who are racist against cops (WHAT??). That I have tickets to take my kids to Macklemore in December and I have to wonder if I will be risking their life. The madness.has.to.stop.

4. Resolve. At what point do we get so very tired of the madness that we actually DO something? Today was the day for me. I signed a petition (178K signatures and counting) to petition the US Congress to stop gutting federal gun laws. To do something to save the 33,000 Americans who will be killed this year by gun violence and bring some sanity to this conversation, including:

• Vote no on HR 3668, the SHARE Act that would gut long-standing regulations on silencers and loosen restrictions on armor piercing bullets.
• Block HR 38, the Concealed Carry Reciprocity Act that would force states to honor the concealed carry weapons permits of every other state, regardless of how lax the other state’s law.
• Ban weapons of war: assault weapons and large capacity magazines, which have no place in the hands of private citizens.

I honestly don’t know how this is even a vote. We’re not talking about banning guns. We’re talking about common sense protection for our country. Will it solve everything? No. But the fact that these items are even being debated – in the midst of this tragedy – is insane to me.

We also have to do something about the money. In the last election, Republicans+ received $5.9M from gun lobbyists compared to $100K to Democrats. It’s interesting to see where the money went – including $170K to Paul Ryan, the top recipient, who says the poor souls in Vegas are in his “thoughts and prayers.”

But this level of money influencing policy making is not new. And it’s totally legal. And frankly, when I look at the top 100 recipients, the amounts of money are far less than I expected. People are being bought for $20K? Really? Until we have greater control over the influence of lobbyists, the answer seems relatively simple to me. We need to fund the non-NRA. Even the playing field. I would donate today if I knew the right, legitimate organization to donate to. Any suggestions?

I know there are some in my world who will not like #4. I grew up in the Ozarks, where guns are so common we had mandatory hunter safety in 7th grade. By then I already hated guns. Because my first funeral was in 5th grade. It was for the brother of one of my best friends. A 7th grade boy with red hair and freckles and a love for Star Wars – who was shot by a family member in a tragic hunting accident. From that moment forward, I hated guns. And still do. But I have family that hunts. Lifelong friends who hunt. Nothing I have said so far is anti-hunting. If anyone reading this disagrees with this perspective, it is OK. Part of supporting constitutional rights is supporting free speech. We’re all entitled.

5. Goodness. The world is good. It really is. It is heartwarming to see how, yet again, normal people become heroes. First responders, police and firemen, nurses and doctors all rallied. Far beyond the expected call of duty that night. Average citizens filled their pick-up trucks with victims. Strangers stayed in harm’s way to hold the hands of the wounded to try to comfort. People gave their lives saving others. It is so noble, so courageous, and so amazing it makes my heart sing. Even amidst the tragedy. As the wise Mr. Rogers says, “look for the helpers”. There are so many people who are caring in this world.

And then lets bring some sanity to gun control. And protect the people we love from massacre mass shootings.

+ For those who assume I am a bleeding liberal – there is some real ugly name calling on the Internet – I’ve voted for both parties in my lifetime. For me, my ultimate motivation is to live in a country that is safe for the people I love.

 

After my Anticipation blog, I thought I should report back on reunion week-end from Fayetteville. Thankfully, I was not disappointed.

It was such a short trip – we arrived around 6pm on Friday night and flew out at 6am this morning. Life called and this was a tricky week-end to squeeze in a week-end away, which is why we pulled the trigger at the final hour. I am so glad I went.

It was fascinating to return to a place that I loved dearly, but hadn’t been to in over 20 years. While I only lived in Fayetteville for 3.5 years, they were some of my favorite years ever. The chance to see a place I loved, with some of my best friends who now live all over the US, was a pull I couldn’t resist.

Everything had changed of course. My favorite breakfast place was a parking lot. My favorite dance club was a roller skating rink. My favorite running trails were unreachable, blocked by a massive bed and breakfast. My sorority house had been bull-dozed and totally rebuilt into a beautiful new mansion. My junior year apartment, which was brand new when I moved in, looked like public housing. Almost all of my favorite restaurants were gone.

But. It was still Fayetteville. The campus looked largely the same – with historically old buildings and gorgeous big trees. The athletic facilities were massively improved and really nice – you can see the influx of money from the Walton’s (i.e. Wal-Mart), Tyson’s (i.e. chicken), and other families in named buildings, fields, and more. Dickson St., which was pretty cool, is now super cool – with lots of fun bars and restaurants.

Here are a few of my favorite moments and lessons from reunion week-end:

Spontaneous fun is the best thing ever
Sometimes the best fun is completely unpredictable and unexpected. Unanticipated. Last night we took an Uber (which definitely did not exist 20 years ago, but wow, I wish it had) from dinner to a reunion house party. My dear friend and roommate smartly took the front seat and the rest of us piled in the back. She picked up a microphone and we quickly realized “Caroake”, our Uber driver, had out-fitted his car as a mobile karaoke dance party. I could DJ from a tablet in the backseat and hooked her up with the all-time classic “Gold Digger.” As she started to belt it out, as I knew she would, all of a sudden strobe lights started flashing. Caroake had a strobe light on his console and the whole car was like a dance club. Probably not the safest mode of transportation, but so.much.fun. I could drive with Caroake all night in his Toyota Corolla.

I hope you dance…..
There is a sappy country song that goes something like “And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance…” I do like the message of participating in life. And I really like to dance. I did a lot of dancing this week-end and loved every minute. Rap, country, pop. All fantastic. But my true “choosing to dance” moment involved a mechanical Razorback (the U of A mascot). It was a large pig – similar to a mechanical bull – but a pig. Located at a bar called the Yee Hawg. Simply incredible branding! How could you NOT ride a mechanical Razorback at the Yee Hawg? I could have sat it out, yes, but now I have a great story. I rode the Razorback at the Yee Hawg. A ridiculous memory. And another hilarious Fayetteville shared experience with my girlfriend.

I’m too old for…..
Here’s what I did get tired of hearing: “We’re too old for…”. For real. With the passing of time, this is a reasonable statement. But I am too old for very little. Here are a few things I am too old for.

I’m too old to be bored.

I’m too old to miss experiences.

I’m too old for worrying about what people might think.

I’m too old to not enjoy every conversation.

I’m too old to not seize every moment and have as much fun as possible.

As each year goes by, I so don’t want to shut down and stop experiencing things. If anything, shouldn’t we get more bold? Shouldn’t we get more adventurous? It’s true the years are flying by, so rather than sitting down, shouldn’t we jump up?

Shared history is so special….
Lifelong friends are so wonderful. People that have known you forever. And love you just the same. It is very special to share stories, compare memories – good and bad – and know that while years have passed, you will always share a unique bond.

Saturday morning was a 5K fun run, which required getting up at 7am (ugh. Definitely reminded us of lots of late nights and early morning practices). It was part of a big cross-country festival and while I could have used a few more hours of sleep, it was great to go back in time to the culture of cross country. A beautiful fall day with bright blue skies, crisp air, and leaves starting to fall. The race was over a grass course with a few rolling hills.

Most of us are just recreational runners now – and some don’t run at all. No judgement. I had planned to just jog with my friend but was inspired by the excitement of a race and my love for cross country. I went a bit harder than planned – nothing earth-shattering by any means, but a testament to my love for running, running with great friends, and being part of a community of runners.

My old coach is still the head coach at U of A. A group of us girls talked with him a bit after our 5K and before the collegiate races. We represented close to 20 years of running history, all together – some meeting for the first time – and some with lifelong friendships. The shared history of our time at Fayetteville was a special bond.

I don’t know when I’ll go back. But I know it will be with my dear friends. And a love for a very special place.

 

Tonight I am full of anticipation. Isn’t that an incredible word? Anticipation.
Anticipation is when you look forward to something. When it is something awesome, your stomach flutters a bit with excited energy, you get a skip in your step, and a bright smile on your face. At least that’s how I define it.

Then I started to wonder if I even knew the actual definition, so I checked. Merriam Webster defines it as the “act of looking forward with pleasurable expectation.”

That’s about right.

Today has been a great day of anticipation. I started the day anticipating how much I wanted to make my oldest daughter’s birthday special (the end of birthday season!). More pancakes and candles! Giving her presents I hope she loves!

I anticipated seeing a special friend today and enjoyed a great cup of coffee and conversation.

And, tonight, I anticipate taking a trip tomorrow. A trip back in time to Fayetteville, Arkansas. My alma mater. The University of Arkansas.

What’s the occasion? A track team reunion!

I loved college. Simply loved it. Would go back and do it again in a heartbeat. Who knew how luxurious that schedule was in the moment? Living with your best girlfriends. Dancing ‘til dawn. Watching TV shows with piles of friends. Oh, and learning a bit too.

For me, it was such a time of transition. I grew up in a small town in Missouri – around 10,000 people. Fayetteville had around 70,000 people and felt MASSIVE. There was a MALL!! And our choice of restaurants. And multiple movie theaters. I loved the campus. I loved the people.

And I made the best friends. I was very sheltered in high school. Very focused on running and incredibly straight-laced. That changed relatively quickly. My best friends were my teammates and many of them were much older than me. I was small and young, and fit the little sister mold perfectly. They did their very best to show me the ropes, get me into clubs with the most ridiculous fake IDs, and show me a lovely time. This picture pretty much sums it up (and yes, those are some seriously high-waisted jeans).

It was a unique experience. Since we were all runners, we traveled frequently (when I wasn’t injured anyway). So on top of living in the big city of Fayetteville, I traveled with my best friends to races all over – California, Arizona, Florida, Pennsylvania, Texas and more. We spent many nights together in hotel rooms, saved our per diem money for meals and blew it at the mall on trendy clothes, and of course, raced our hearts out.

Here is a pic of some of my old track team. In addition to high-waisted jeans, I had an affinity for scrunchies.

More important were the everyday things. Hanging out at various apartments or on campus. Singing poorly to our favorite songs. Planning the next big night out. Making mix tapes to be our soundtracks. Going to coffee shops to do homework. And mostly talking – talking, talking, talking – about nothing and everything.

Tomorrow will be the first time I’ve been back to Fayetteville since I left over 20 years ago. I finished school a semester early in the winter and didn’t even attend the actual graduation ceremony in the spring because I was living in Oregon.

I cannot wait to see my old stomping grounds. I cannot wait to see some of the best friends I’ve ever had. I cannot wait to run in my alumni t-shirt at the cross-country festival on Saturday. I cannot wait to hit the town for a few nights and go back to this magical time.

The thing about anticipation is that it can set you up for disappointment. I know Fayetteville has changed a bunch. I’m sure my friends and I have too. It definitely won’t be the same.

But I am anticipating a great week-end – I cannot wait!