Of Blessings And Birthdays

My mom deserves more on her birthday than a card, light pink roses, and a teary-eyed hug from her teary-eyed eldest daughter who just can’t seem to hold her proverbial poo together today, at least not as well as she was holding her proverbial poo together yesterday, and the day before that.

But in all honesty, me being able to hold anything together during the tempestuous past few days has much more to do with the myriad support I have received from a surprising compilation of simply superb people that I am so blessed to call my family and friends, than it does with me being able to hold anything together myself.

This mind-boggling and heart-warming support has come in many various forms the past few days–from hugs, to phone calls, to written notes, to emails, to instant messages, to a little game of thumb wrestling with my grandpa–and has come from not only those in my life I would typically “expect” to be supportive through the not so pleasant walks of life, but from people who have seemingly come out of nowhere to call at precisely perfect moments to say precisely perfect things. Precisely perfect things about how “they have just been thinking about me,” or “missing me,” or “wondering how I am doing.” Precisely perfect things that make me first start to cry, and then start to smile, and then start to feel so overwhelmingly thankful that I usually start crying again, but this time tears of a different, more joyful variety, and before I know it I’m smiling again.

These are people I work with, people I school with, people I haven’t seen in months and months, and even, in some cases, people to which I have not really and meaningfully spoken in years and years. These are people who both know me well and people who at one time in my life knew me well. But above all, these are people who have made these past few days far more bearable for me than they would have been sans all of them, or any one of them. People who have allowed me to fully realize the inherent reality in one of many of Mother Teresa’s characteristically profound statements: “I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love.”

And for that love–manifested in so many unique ways these past few days–and to all of you comprising my simply superb and unexpected support system, thank you. I am so sincerely grateful to each and every one of you.

And to my mother: happy birthday! I know that most of the time I very much like to entertain myself by pointing out the genetic “malfunctions” you seemingly delighted in passing down to me, and me only (i.e. The prestigious sun-burning ability, the not-so-Sure armpits — yes, it’s now been scientifically proven that one in four women sweat more than the other three, we can’t help it, it’s genetic–the Turning Of The Face Bright Red Like A Radish, and thereby just begging all of your elementary school classmates to endlessly call you “Radish Ladish,” because look! her face is bright red! and look! radish rhymes with Ladish!), you have also bestowed upon me so much for which I am thankful, both physically and emotionally, not the least of these attributes being these baby blue eyeballs, out of which tears are able to fall and I, even with a runny nose and runny, blubbering eyes, am able to find complete acceptance.

So, mom, the consensus: you most ertainly do deserve much more than I can give you this year. You at least deserve a 2005 mustang that you can drive really really fast and never have to worry about tickets, even though I know that even if you had a 2005 mustang you could drive really really fast, you wouldn’t drive it too awfully fast, because you just don’t speed, and besides, YOU HAVE NEVER IN YOUR LIFE HAD A SPEEDING TICKET OR EVEN BEEN PULLED OVER FOR SPEEDING. Ok, so would it have been so tough to pass that luck genetically on to your eldest?

Weekend Update, Leprechaun Edition

I haven’t run a 5k since 2005, when my sister and I signed up to “trot” a Race for the Cure in Portland and then on race day, about twenty minutes before we were set to briskly walk with the rest of the meanders, she asked if we could run. We have different memories of this day, but I remember knowing we would run even though we had said we were going to walk. I also remember that while she → Read more...

Things I’m Contemplating As I Enter This, My Superhero(ine) Phase

This post inspired by my friend and Patron Saint of Divorce Redemption.

We’ve all heard about the five (or seven) stages of grief, the designated personal places you must traipse within and for yourself to be able to stand tall on the other side of whatever loss you are suffering. Stages you need to fight your way through surviving, and really processing, to be able to find yourself again.

In my head I liken the five stages of divorce to a wily → Read more...

Do A Big Sister A Favor?

Today is babycarrot sister’s 26th! Day of Cake. Being that my sister happens to be (awesome, yes! and) one of my favorite people on the planet, I think instead of being here, you should go here, and read all about what made her day great. (Seeing as how we’re all very visual learners around these parts, I will tell you that there are most definitely pictures. Of cake, even!)

You could even wish her a happy! birthday. You know, if you → Read more...

My Heart Is A Nautical-Themed Pashmina Afghan

We interrupt copious amounts of Asia recapping this broadcast for a maritime digression of sorts.

You see, I’ve been a lover of the ocean, and of all things aquatic and nautical-inspired, ever since I can remember.

My love for sea-faring-everything might very well have been fostered during the myriad spring breaks spent exploring quaint coastal communities in and around Port Ludlow, Washington. Some of my fondest childhood memories spring forth from days spent poking my curious face into every trinket shop in → Read more...