2014

I Think Ferris Is Right

I’ve got that good old Ferris Bueller’s Day Off quote stuck in my head. Can you believe how young Matthew Broderick looks in this photo? Do you think he looks at this picture and thinks of his character’s iconic quote, and thinks “sheesh, I’m sick of hearing those words but a heck of a lot has happened since I became famous for saying them?” Maybe I will tweet him and ask.

I have been dwelling on this thought a bit over the past few days. I think maybe since August 1st when I woke up and said, “Holy Moly it’s August!” Or I looked at my count down app on my phone and realized I have just 33 days left until the wedding. We’ve been counting down and planning and hoping and changing and growing so much in the last two years that it feels rather surreal to be only a month out to the big day. I’m not going back to school, but I’ve got that feeling of back to school anxiety as I know the summer is winding down. We didn’t get the chance to go camping, or take much vacation, or go to the beach because we’ve been meeting caterers and doing tastings, and scrimping on budget, and making things out of tulle and poking and proding ourselves into dresses, and laughing through this funny process called planning a wedding instead.

I was writing in my journal about how messy our house is, and how frustrated I can get that I don’t feel like I have a ton of time to catch up on laundry and I want envelopes to go away, and receipts, and planning books, and to do lists to reach completion. It would be nice to see the surface of my kitchen table. Then, I felt like this little voice was saying, ‘the wedding is going to be done in only 33 days! Enjoy this mess, enjoy the tulle, enjoy the to-do lists’. Ferris is right – this is all moving kinda fast.

This week I don’t really feel I have one prolific beautiful moment. Instead, maybe I just slowed down a tiny bit to observe a few beautiful moments in other’s lives. On Friday night one of my best friends came to visit and we got to catch up on life and talk about dating and boys (are we old enough to call them men?) and we decided perhaps your twenties are the decade you figure out all that you thought you were going to do is a scam; it’s more fun to start doing all that you want to do. That’s a freeing thought isn’t it? We were downtown and I saw a mom with 4 kids all in matching pastel outfits eating ice cream on a bench, That’s a beautiful image. Summer is about ice-cream, and bright colors, and lining up with family to enjoy a nice evening out. Or maybe you don’t enjoy it so you just get your mom to buy you ice cream.

Saturday I got to take my new favorite bus downtown with my mom. We joked about the people riding it, talked about social anxiety, and I waited patiently for her while she got her hair done. I know we may not always live close enough where I can ride my bike to her house, walk to the bus, spend all day with her wasting time and drinking coffee and playing caddy games. Have I mentioned how awesome my mom is. She made me a wedding bib – isn’t this beautiful? I’ve been having so much anxiety about spilling Italian food on my white wedding dress that we’ve always joked about me wearing a bib for the big day. Well she made one. And it actually looks kinda elegant. It’s beautiful to me. I can’t wait to wear it.

Wedding Bib fit for a Queen

Today, as I went to get coffee at the coffee shop that is WAY too close to work an older woman was outside singing and playing her guitar. (I broke down – resisting lattes is SO hard). What courage it takes to be yourself and be vulnerable with a guitar and a beautiful voice and some lyrics that portray her view of the world. I’m not good at slowing down, and I spend a lot of time wishing I was somewhere else. I think this week, though, I was just reminded to look for the little things again because heck, this year is moving pretty fast. Only 33 days! And then the next big adventure will begin.

What little things can you notice if you slow down? Would you wear a wedding bib? Do you like 80’s movies?

It Doesn’t Ask for Our Attention

I’ll admit it. I’m crabby. I am feeling really frustrated about insurance, and cars and claims, and deductibles, and how life costs money. When I’m crabby, it’s hard to focus my attention on the beautiful in life. However, if there is anything this journey this year has taught me, the search for beauty is a choice, one we get to select over and over again. So here I go, choosing it.

This week we watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Did you see it? I think it got mixed reviews – maybe three out of five stars. I can see why it wasn’t blowing reviewers socks off as the story line was a little slow, and there was not a lot of plot development. However, I found the main message, or at least my interpretation of it, to be a beautiful thing.

(SPOILER ALERT – I’M GOING TO TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS IN THE MOVIE)

I think our culture does a fabulous job of telling us each day that the ordinary is just not enough. We go to our jobs, are frustrated with our bosses, and are told to be quiet or squash our ambitions for fearful reasons. This is where I love the character of Walter. He’s quiet, he’s reserved, and to others, somewhat odd, but he has these great moments of daydreams that he keeps to himself. I can so relate. Maybe it’s an introvert thing. Walter spends time imagining how he would react to situations in wonderful ways even when the mundane, the frustrating, the obnoxious all creep in. He spends too much time beating himself up because he hasn’t done anything noteworthy by his own definition which heck, don’t we all do. Maybe you don’t; I do.

Then, however, through a series of events Walter gets some courage and goes on an adventure seeking a solution to his work woes – climbs a mountain, beats up a shark, sees a volcano erupt – all to return to the fact that the thing he was seeking was right in front of his own eyes. The best part is that Walter’s own hero actually views Walter’s contributions to life as extraordinary. I can’t fully explain it, not really, how beautiful it is to be reminded that your contributions are enough. That maybe self fulfillment can come to you in the mountains of the Himalayas, or by moving across the country, or taking huge risks. Or maybe, instead, self fulfillment can come in the reminder that the key to my being enough is saying, “Hey, you are ok. Your contributions matter”. Perhaps I have more answers in my own pocket than I could ever find in the great “out there”.

Walter’s hero says a line in the movie that I had to write down, “Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.” Isn’t that true. Things are beautiful just because they are, because I slow down to appreciate them, because they are in our backyards, on our toes, near my desk chair, in movies that I watch on a Sunday night. The ordinary can be extraordinary if we let it. See the movie. It’s great.

I found two other small nuggets of beauty this week. The first is fruit.

Peaches from the Western Slope

Each year my parents buy big boxes of fresh peaches from a lady who comes up from the Western Slope and sells the flats of fruit out of the back of her van. I count down to August because these juicy treats are to die for. I was at my parent’s house last night and stood over the sink eating the yummy fruit with juice dripping all over my face and hands. I intended to slice it up, but one bite in and all the sudden there is no time. So delicious. I can’t wait to bake them in puff pastry and eat them with vanilla ice cream, or put them in a smoothie, or commit to standing in front of the sink each morning eating a peach for breakfast. I will have to adjust my morning routine accordingly.

And this guy – check out this sweet older gentleman who refused to let a physical disability and age hold him back. I know nothing about him except that his epic dance moves have gone viral. I love the video, I love his attitude, I love his choice in this moment.

Thanks for letting me rant and rave and focus on a few good things. I feel better already. What is in your life that feels ordinary, but maybe, just maybe has a glimpse of extraordinary? Do you like summer fruit?

Here’s to You

Sometimes, I worry about development – about our houses and our gyms and our stupid super stores taking over the planet. Yes, this trend is concerning and I want to rip developer’s “FOR SALE” signs out of those open fields. But then, I take a road trip to the Mid-West. It is when I drive through parts of Nebraska, Iowa, Minnesota and Wisconsin with miles and miles of corn, and I think “Ok, we’ve still got plenty of open space.” I am so snobby that I fail to remember that lack of things to look at on I-90 means food on the table, corn in my belly, orange soda in my hand. I’ll admit it, I’ve got some Colorado elitism in me and I carry some opinions about our neighbors to the east. I am, after all, a Colorado Buffalo. Sorry Husker fans. Did you know there isn’t a Starbucks within 200 miles between cities in Nebraska? I looked.

This road trip helped me to identify a few growth areas within my personality – say some acceptance for slower ways of living, a respect for those who don’t sport my same coffee addiction, and a questioning look into my privilege of honestly craving carrots and hummus on the road rather than fast food. This trip, too, gave me an appreciation for roots, and for tradition, for open spaces, and for love that families create.

Dylan’s grandfather passed away last week. It wasn’t expected, and he was fairly healthy at 84 years old. It was less than 48 hours between finding out he fell, to finding out he had passed on. News like that is never easy to absorb. It is easy, however, to mobilize, and within a few days we packed up a car and ordered snacks, and loaded our Kindles to make the 15 hour drive to Wisconsin because nothing else in that situation would make sense. Seven adults in a Ford Excursion is a lot different than a road trip with the cousins when you are ten or eleven. We still had fun, still made the most of it.

It can be, at times, hard to find beauty in tragedy or peace in the midst of suffering. My experience participating in Dylan’s family as they began to grieve was very different than that of when my own grandfather passed away. We all handle emotions differently and my family is known to be, well, “over processors” when it comes to emotion, so I wasn’t sure how to act or what to expect.

Tears were shed, and stories were told, and laughter was more common than silence or weeping. I was exposed to a Catholic funeral, a viewing, a rosary – cultural experiences I had never had before. We ate a lot of cheese curds, our sandwiches had butter on them, comfort food was shared.

This is Grandpa as a kid – an original Cheesehead I suppose

What I found to be most beautiful in this experience, however, was pausing to reflect upon all the lives this man created and influenced and impacted. Gerald had six children, and a few married or committed to someone, and a few of those six had their own children. As the grand kids grow new additions get added on – me included. He has three great-grandchildren. Gerald served in the Army and the Navy so many men from the VA, or VFW or Knights of Columbus came and shared their respects. What a powerful thing it is to honor someone who has served our country.

I feel so blessed to be a part of their story – that I could hold some tissues, and hold Dylan’s hand, and give support to a family that has long ago accepted me as one of their own. It is never easy to lose someone you love, and even harder to think about what they will miss in your own lives. A part of me is really sad that the wedding did not come sooner – had we not postponed, both of our grandfathers would have been able to attend.

While I did not know this man very well, I have been blessed to be exposed to the beauty of what he created. A family of expansive love that gives freely, and ask questions, and has fun. So here is to you, Gerald Sullivan. Thank you for what you have given this world, and by extension, what has been given to me. Please know that you are loved.

Catching the Bus

White bread. Vanilla valley. Pick your diversity slur, and maybe, just maybe, my hometown has been called one of those names. Or rather, it’s a lack of diversity slur. We have a bad reputation for being homogenous; the same without variety and flavor. As a sociology student, this accusation bothers me. I’ll admit it, when I travel, I get uncomfortable because I am fairly used to being in a white majority town. At home, the whiteness of faces and culture, and middle class expectations are an extreme norm for me. I know this subject matter is an extremely sensitive topic. I hope I can approach it with an open and accepting lens. If I offend, I apologize. I’m open to discussion.

Diversity is important and I try, so very hard, to look for it, to seek it out, to ask polite questions, that maybe, at times aren’t incredibly ‘pc’. Because, well, you can not help where you come from. But here’s the thing that I’ve been thinking about a lot this week. As you know, our cars got pretty dinged up in the hail storm (dinged up – is that grammatically correct?). That means Dylan’s car is in the shop, and he is using mine for the commute. Luckily, oh so luckily, the town we live in just got a new transit system put in that goes from the South end of town to the North and its free for the summer. So each morning Dylan has been dropping me at the bus, and I’ve had to run a few times to catch it. It’s a great way to go to work. I don’t have to focus, and I’ve always been a fan of public transportation. Because when you are on a bus, you have to accept diversity in lifestyle choices, in clothing, in language, in experience. When that little box with wheels that you spend so much time in needs repair, you have to branch out, raise your head, and make eye contact with all kinds of people you didn’t even realize lived in your town.

Well I guess you don’t have to accept diversity that is represented. I choose to look for it, to have conversations, and to make eye contact. It’s fun, and a little bit scary. I don’t know much about these people, where they live, where they work, or what their families are like. It’s easy to judge based on clothing, based on bags, or Apple accessories what kind of life they may live or where they may fit in the world. It has been beautiful to see how much diversity exists in my little town, just on the bus. Quite often, we flock to people who are like us – we want to be able to talk about shared experiences and it’s difficult to cross into circles that are out of the ordinary. I’ve got my work friends, my gym friends, my church friends. None of those people that I know have bus friends. ( I know, I know, if I was in a city, perhaps this post would go without saying, but hey, I don’t. I live here) Maybe I’ll have a bus friend. The reality of the matter is Dylan’s car will be fixed in a couple of weeks, and I will likely go back to my personalized box with wheels. Its more convenient, more reliable, more timely (let’s be honest, public transit in this town isn’t great). However, we are moving in the right direction. It is helping me see how I contribute to the mix as well.

Part of my job is to train volunteers who want to give their time to our agency. Working with at-risk populations we spend a lot of time talking about the “Hidden Rules of Class”, by Ruby Payne and Philip DeVol and how our expectations shape and change our behavior. I expect to be able to drive a car to work – one that I own myself. A large amount of the population does not have that luxury. What is important to me, in this aspect of the training, is that it is not about us “people who have it together” helping those people who are “transitioning, or needy, or looking for hand outs”.

At the beginning of the training I ask the volunteers to answer T/F to these questions:

I was raised in poverty
I was raised in the middle class
I was raised in wealth
I have experienced homelessness
I am employed
I have a good relationship with my family
I know a friend or loved one who struggles with an addiction
I know a friend or loved one who has spent time in jail
I am religious
I have people in my life who are proud of me
I have felt lost and unsure at some point in my life
I believe in myself

Typically we have about 20 people at a training. There are always at least 8 or 9 people who answer yes to every single question. So despite our gender, or our class, or where we live, or what kind of Apple accessories we cary, there should be things we can connect on.

So thanks, public transportation, for letting me think about the beauty in what makes us different, and the beauty in what makes us the same.

How would you answer those true/ false questions. Do you take the bus?

Find Your Passion

Look at my tomato plant! This little guy is growing. I can’t believe it. And to think my mom just started it from a seed. She’s a little jealous since I am growing them on a deck, they were spared from the last hail storm. Her little veggies got shredded a little before salad season. I seriously can’t believe that this process is working! My lettuce, eh…. Carrots – they are taking a long time – delayed gratification and they grow down. I can’t see their progress. But I sure do put hope in these little tomato plants. Oh the metaphors, the lessons that vegetables can teach us. I could do a whole extended metaphor thing here, but I don’t think that’s the direction I want to move tonight.

Instead, I’d rather focus on Chickens. Felted Chickens.

Look how cool this little guy is. He has tons of friends, and the artists that make these guys were so wonderful! This is truly not something you see every day. Take a moment to learn more about the artists The CitygirlFarm. You know what’s funny? I’m not sure why these caught my attention because frankly, I hate birds. But these were so innovative, and pretty, and I, for some reason or another, am drawn to fiber arts. Funny, too, because who thinks of resting their feet on chickens?

This weekend we got to go to the Cherry Creek Arts Festival in Denver – a favorite of mine each summer. I love walking around the ritzy neighborhood, thinking about how some day, just maybe, I will be able to purchase some original art for the walls of my home. I usually just collect business cards, and hand outs that the artists share their contact info on. Free art! Even if it is in miniature.

I love looking at how artists spend their time and creative efforts. How refreshing it is to think about how people choose to break out of the every day monotony of paying bills, worrying about what’s next, and instead channel efforts into different mediums and landscapes, and lines and textures. How freeing it can be; to express yourself on canvas. Or wire. Or sculpture, Or paint. I did a lot of art in high school – somewhere along the line I got afraid I wasn’t good enough. I was traumatically affected when my high school teacher told me my work didn’t have a theme, that the connection wasn’t strong enough through my threads of pieces. As a perfectionist, this hit me hard. I’m better now, but still think I should dabble more into art. There is beauty in choosing to create regardless of what the critic thinks.

My new line when I don’t quite understand someone else’s hobbies, or maybe am just a little jealous that I haven’t honed my own true talent yet, is “find your passion.” Well Thecitygirlfarm certainly found their passion – and they got to share it with me – and I love it! And this weekend, at the art festival, it seemed just like all those people were doing just that. I love the beautiful conversations art invokes, the way artists open their eyes and shift their perspectives and are brave enough to put their view into form, and offer it up to be sold into people’s homes. That is such a beautiful combination – vulnerability, perspective, artistic truth, culture. How wonderful.

Below are some of my favorites from the festival. Check them out. What questions do they make you ask? What’s your passion?

Katharine McGuiness – “The Sky is Falling”

Ginny Herzog – “Detroit”

Jerry Brem – loved the book paintings – someday, in my library maybe

Chris Dahlquist – the business card title is “object maker” – what a wonderful title!

Liz Quan – the coolest porcelain lights ever! And she works in Colorado!

Jessica Magee – loved the abstractions and the colors – you just want to stare at the pieces

Debo Groover – funky polymer clay and mixed media works – love love love

Delicious Ambiguity

You know those quote cards – the colorful ones, or maybe just black and white with neat font – that are so great to send to friends? The one’s they expanded into mugs, and t-shirts, and wall art, and journals because their beautiful aesthetics and wisdom combine into merchandise that we just have to have? Well maybe you don’t HAVE to have them, but I’m drawn to those 4 dollar 4 X 4 cards. And when I was in high school I collected them – in fact, I they are still duck taped to the back of my old bedroom door at my parents house.

Thanks to my Dad who sent me a pic of my old bedroom door. Some things don’t change.

I talk about my love of quotes a lot here, and this week I’ve been thinking about Gilda Radner and the card that I put on my door when I was fifteen when I really had no hands on experience with living in ambiguity. Because when you are in high school, or when I was in high school, things were pretty clear for me – success was spelled out, roles of interaction defined.

And I’m learning, this year, that those rules of predictability and behavior and pattern go right out the window the second you admit two things: 1) that my choices can not be made because of other people and 2) that other people are going to make choices without me in mind, and I’m likely going to have to adapt. Sometimes that makes me feel sad, but sometimes that makes me feel strong. This week, that is making me feel strong. Changes are happening, and have been happening, at work, but instead of feeling scared or insecure, I am being reminded by friends and loved ones and myself that I am strong, that I get to learn, that I get to choose how I want to adapt.

Too, this week was one of the biggest hail storms I have ever lived through. Ok lived through is a strong sentence, but I did hide in the bathroom and immediately called my mom. You may move out, but she’s still the first I’m gonna call. You can’t exactly tell from the picture below, but we had piles and piles of ping pong ball sized hail in our apartment complex. You know what else comes with apartment complex – or rather what isn’t included? Garages. That’s right, both of our cars got lots of ping pong sized indents on every panel of our vehicles. It adds texture, says the optimistic me. The realist me says it adds a hefty expense this month – even with insurance – and it’s sorta a ding to the budget.

Our neighborhood got shredded, trees everywhere, gardens ruined, roof after roof needing replacement. And boy, was that one unpredictable. But you know what was beautiful this week? As Dylan and I went for an evening walk a few days ago I came across a wonderful cherry tree in someone’s backyard. The branches were overflowing onto the side walk – little bursts of red fruit holding so much promise saying, “I’m hanging on, I’m not quite ready yet to fall.” The way the sun was setting made them glow a little bit, and I love cherries. I may have to go knock on these people’s doors to ask if we can have some fruit that is extending over into public space. Cherries. How simple, how delightful – especially in the piles of leaves and shredded canopies, and carnage of something unpredictable.

So I return to Gilda’s thoughts, and say you know what – I am not going to be able to predict things and protect myself by knowing what to expect – not all the time. If I can’t look for some little bursts of color, some wisdom in accepting I’m not going to know, my journey will be a bit more peaceful. Take time to enjoy the sweetness of cherries, have immense respect for the power of nature, and gratitude for insurance. Dancing with the unpredictable is honestly getting a little bit more fun. Just a little bit.

What feels unpredictable to you? What surprised you in the midst of situations that seem to leave some destruction behind? Do you grow fruit in your backyard?

Think About It

It’s 8:15 pm and I’m doing the dishes, and we hear a knock. A little bit unusual because well, we don’t really know anyone in our neighborhood. I open the door and our neighbor comes in, a super nice lady, and she lets us know that water is pouring through her lights in the kitchen. Are we running water? Something is leaking.

We check the washing machine, but no, wait, that doesn’t make sense. Our washing machine is over her living room. It must be the sink. Open up those double doors, and yup, sure enough, a u-pipe (Dylan taught me what it is called) has popped out of its proper place and water is drip, drip, dripping not into the correct pipe, but onto our cabinet floor, and yup into the kitchen below us.

Now this my friends, is not a beautiful problem. In fact it was pretty gross. This problem made me immensely thankful for indoor plumbing – something I do not spend much time thinking about. This little predicament, too, made me immensely thankful for living with a man. Dylan jumped right up, got out the tools, the bucket, cut the pipe and got it fixed – even before our landlord called us back. I quickly became the flash light holder, and we worked through the problem. Team work makes the dream work – as one of my previous co-workers used to say.

Isn’t it incredible how quickly, in a moment of stress, we fell into traditional gender roles here. Dylan’s fixing, I’m helping. I was doing dishes – he knew which tool to use. And this is by no fault of our own. I would say we both strive to have a balance of power in our relationship, an approach of equality, a respect for one another’s strengths. But the simple fact of the matter is – HE KNEW HOW TO FIX THE SINK AND I DIDN’T. AND THAT”S OK!

As the time passed and our evening wound down, I started reading a really interesting book called, “The Meaning of Wife”, written by Anne Kingston, all about the historical implications of being wife, living that title, embracing that role. It’s an intriguing thing to think about, wife, and even though I’m only on chapter two, this author has got my wheels spinning.

As you may know, I studied Sociology and Gender Studies in college, so these topics are right up my alley, and are dear to my heart. I’m excited to delve deeper into the book. I was raised by a strong woman, one who taught me to question my role as one who identifies with this particular gender, challenge patriarchy in respectful ways, not accept the status quo. We frequently chatted about feminism at the dinner table, about reversal of traditional gender roles, and how I can appreciate what women have done for me making great strides in terms of equality. There are not many years that women have been spun in a positive light, and that makes me sad. Really sad. And I’ve struggled a little, if I’m honest, to accept that I’m getting married before a graduate degree. That I’m acquiring the letters MRS. before MBA, or MFA, or MSW. Because I was the one who laughed at those girls who wanted just a MRS degree. But here I am, ten weeks away from the big white dress, and the name change, and the new adventure as life partner. Call it whatever you want, I’m going to be a Mrs in a world that doesn’t favor wives, doesn’t promote equality, and sends so many messages about the right way to perform “wife”. They say men gain while women quite often lose in marriage – lose what? I’m a little afraid to ask.

So where are you going with all of this Katie – you might be thinking? How is a nasty sink and your love of asking questions beautiful? Well, I think, this week, I am finding the beauty in thinking critically. I am an individual who participates in a much larger societal structure – I can’t embrace social problems with a desire to change broad societal trends without crippling anxiety and anger. How do we stand up as women, aim our target at change, and want simple acceptance at the exact same time. Isn’t it all so complicated? Pick an angle – Christian wife, working wife, educated wife, stay at home wife – and there will be a critic from every single lens. And so, as I embark on this new journey, as a woman, I get to think critically and ask how do I want to do it? Be a wife. What do I want to value? What do I want to bring to this new position – because my individual participation in an insitution that demonstrates immense privilege can change things. I get to walk into this new journey and read and learn and ask questions. Oh I love asking questions. But sometimes, this world get’s overwhelming with all of the self-help recommendations, the shoulds, the how-tos. There is so much beauty in saying “Well looky at this – isn’t it funny how quickly we fall into situations because of gender – and how many forces are going against us – and how many critics we may have by choosing to do these things. But when I take the time to sift through all of those voices, I’m left with the ability to think critically – ask questions, and go from there.

What is your experience in being wife? In having a wife? Or maybe, in fixing sinks?

Blown Away

I’m almost afraid to say it. Things seem to be going smoothly, people getting along, and I’m basking in the support of others. Support that I thought maybe had ended due to doors closing, differences in lifestyle choices, friends moving away. Funny how when you ask the universe for something sometimes you have to wait, and sometimes answers come flooding in faster than you can say thank you. I feel like it’s flooding, and I’m floating, today, on the good.

As you can imagine, planning a wedding is well, expensive. Even when you try to get family involved and do things yourselves. And, as a self admitted control freak about funds, this has been well, uncomfortable. Dylan, my mom, my loved ones continue to tell me to relax, to trust in God’s provision, and to allow myself to use my resources wisely. I’m trying. But in my freak out moments I scream (metaphorically of course) I can figure it out! And so I put out a call to some of my friends offering up babysitting services. And I got a response and this week had the most beautiful experience with two little girls – ages three and one.

It was Friday afternoon and I was pooped and regretting the metaphorical scream and call to action and wishing I had just said no so I could go home and drink a beer and relax because I knew the weekend would be full. I put on my big girl panties and drove across town to a family I hadn’t previously met, and settled in to babysit for the night. We went through the routine – some games, some books, some mac and cheese and I was having fun. But as I cleaned up dinner and took those little girls outside to play I was blown away by the simple pleasure of bubbles (no pun intended). Do you know how fascinating those little soap suds are to little kids? When is the last time you let yourself watch those magical orbs grow and expand and float like they have no cares in the world. We took the wands filled with soap and spun in circles, playing on the grass, pursing our lips and getting covered in spit. Up unto that point, that bubble blowing experience was the highlight of my week. I hope they invite me back. I think I want to add bubble festival to my bucket list – that’s got to be happening somewhere in this country right? If not, maybe I’ll start one.

Saturday was my bridal shower. I woke up early – I was nervous – about what I can’t exactly pin down, but you know, I don’t love being the center of attention. I was overwhelmed, however, by how many people showed up to share their love and support and advice during this time of preparation for marriage. Does anyone else ever have anxiety that if you invite people they might not show up? Like if you plan a birthday party with all of your favorite things and worry, just maybe, no one else will want to partake in what you love? I was a little nervous about that. Again, however, I was blown away by how many women from different stages of my life showed up to say, “we love you, we are thankful we get to walk with you through this time, and we love that you are so in love” WHEWWEEE – isn’t that what we all want? To be loved and accepted and showered with good wishes. It was a great day – to those who participated – thank you, thank you.

What came of this too, was freedom to extend myself to old connections and say even though we are in different places, with different schedules and priorities I still care about you. I said it to my friends, they said it to me, and even if we were together for just a few hours, I felt immensely loved. And surrounded by pink, and by cupcakes, and by accessories that will help build my new life.

And someone bought us the gnome! (Don’t know what I’m talk about? Click Here) We started a hashtag #hueygnome so you can follow his adventures.

What blows you away in good ways? What are you asking for from the universe? What do you wish you hadn’t asked for?

And for those looking for a laugh I strongly recommend this little clip – the song has been stuck in my head ALL WEEK:

Stop Trying to Improve

Type in the words “trying to improve” into a Google search engine. You know how Google has that cool auto populate? Well guess what comes up when you pause and let Google do it’s magic.

Trying to improve your memory

Trying to improve upon

Trying to improve your work

Trying to improve your mood

Trying to improve your life…..

If you actually let the rainbow wheel stop spinning and press enter, the first three links you can click offer “60 small ways to improve your life”, “10 things to do every day to improve your life” and “27 steps to a better you”.

WHOA. That’s a lot of counting. And a lot of conscious things that someone else identified as ways that tell me I can do better.

Today, I am in a space where I am sick of trying to improve. We can work on our selves, our careers, our relationships, our co-workers, our outlook, our private time, our socializing, our food, our health, our brains, our habits, our teeth, our ANYTHING. Here’s what bothers me – how do we know when we’ve successfully improved – how do we quantify it, measure it, say YES, I’m finally improved. Because there is always going to be something else I need to improve upon! What got me spinning off onto this rant?

We joined a gym this weekend. It’s kinda expensive…. but it really helps my mental health and relieves my back pain from sitting in an office chair all day. Trust me, I’ve done the calculations, and figure if I go 3 times a week its more than worth it. So, this morning, I packed my work out clothes and at 5 pm changed to my running shorts and shoes and was excited to go to the gym. And as I was leaving my co-worker asked how I was going to work out. “I’m off the gym – we finally joined – and I’m excited.” “What are you going to do?” he asked. “Just run, probably the elliptical” I replied. He smirked… “why go the gym when you can just run outside. It’s so nice outside,” he said. I muttered a response, and got in my car, feeling, well, a little bit bothered.

I’m trying to improve myself, my health, use my financial resources in a better way to grow my savings account and take care of myself during this somewhat overwhelming time of wedding planning and life and dammit someone was questioning why I wasn’t just running outside! I got to the gym, hopped on the lousy elliptical, and kicked my frustrations and thoughts out with each step. If I spend all of my moments trying to improve, I lose myself. If I set goals with others approval in mind, I lose. If I am always thinking about how to boost my savings account, or manage my time better, or obsess about eating healthier, I lose. No one else does – just me. And so, this week. I’m giving myself the freedom to be – to not improve – to be in this time of life and be ok. I ate a big cookie at lunch, I had a diet coke (GUILTY OF CARCINOGENS), I joked about wanting to be at the gym for “bridal arms”, and I ran, on the elliptical, rather than outside.

And you know what was beautiful? The sizes and shapes and ages of people at the gym. Each there with different motivations and reasons for their participation in that sorta snobby world. We are all trying to just be – be us – maybe with some goals in mind – but I liked the physical diversity of people there tonight. I don’t talk to people at the gym… that would be intimidating; I’m new at this.

And the sky was beautiful – isn’t summer light just really enjoyable. One of the best things of our apartment is we have a west facing view – right over Horstetooth Rock – and the sun sets really nicely into our kitchen window each evening. Our landlord got us blinds – hallelujah! – and now I can enjoy those really strong beams of light. With the trees now having leaves, and the drainage ditch – err – “stream” running behind the apartment, the sunlight plays in the trees really nicely.

I catch myself staring at it as I cook dinner at 7 pm – because I’m busy – and I don’t have time to go to the gym AND get dinner on the table by 6. Psh, Dylan isn’t even home by six, and I certainly don’t sport pearls so once again, I’m letting go of that image I’m trying to improve. And I forgive myself for the iPhone quality photos of light. Again – I could take a class, learn about shutter speed, learn how to better capture this beauty, and improve the communication of just how much I enjoy this scene is in my house every day. But whoop – I’m not going to. Instead of focusing on what I could do better, I’m trying to change my perspective to what I’m already doing well. I think I’m juggling a lot right now – tasks, emotions, anticipations, hopes and dreams – and managing pretty well. And hey, I like the elliptical. What are you proud of yourself for doing right now? What “improvement” can you let go of?

The Four Agreements

I was given a gift this week, once again, in an unusual format. Sitting in staff meeting on a Monday morning is usually not people’s favorite place to be. I would say for me, its manageable, but you know, sometimes, it’s just something you want to check off your list. This week, we had a guest speaker, which is pretty common for us as we collaborate with many business partners, agencies, schools, supporters. I was hunkered down, listening, but admittedly, thinking about a few other things that have been on my mind.

But this gentleman, he caught my attention, and as he spoke about his experience working with at-risk youth in prisons, in rehab, in places where kids are deemed unworthy, casts off, trash, I put away my notebook, and fully tuned in to what he had to say. This guy exudes authenticity, real personable skills, and began his presentation with the genuine desire to help others. He said he approaches his helping work with the premise that he does this work for a reason; ” ‘It’s not because I am better than you, but I am older and have a lifetime of experience.’ I was speaking from my gut, not trying to be tough or be anything but my own true self.” Ahhhh, how refreshing. Isn’t this all what we are trying to do – well maybe not all of us – but come on, when the mess of daily life boils down to our true selves, we just want to help and share our experiences, and our wisdom. I would argue very few people approach their work with I’m better than you so listen up. None of us respond to that kind of false, unearned trust or authority. I don’t know this presenter guy, but I think I love his approach already. I want to know more, learn more, and pass on what he has to say.

He passed out a hand out called The 4 Agreements – see above – and I have literally put them next to my bed. Each statement, each affirmation, is something that can help me get through the day – help us all get through the day. I think the one that I have been working on all year – at work, with wedding planning, with my family, with my friends and my therapist – is the ” When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t need to be the victim of needless suffering.” Thank you universe, for bringing that message round again. I love it – it makes me giddy and unbelievably calm, because while each of those statements are hard to live by every day, they carry such buoyant truth. Context, in this situation, isn’t important to me because these transcend those thoughts and apply to so many situations in my life. Be me, be Katie, don’t absorb other’s drama, seek my own truth, and take care of myself. Easy on paper, hard in practice, but that’s why I’ve put them above my side of the bed.

This week too I found simple pleasure in going to look at flowers for the wedding. Whole sale flower markets are really interesting and the textures and colors and potential of fun little tokens of promise for the wedding were fun to look at. And it’s freezing. They keep those coolers COLD – my teeth were chattering and I wanted to make quick decisions, and my recommendations were voiced by the stacks and stacks of vases while my arms thawed. Dylan’s mom and his aunts came with us and what a blessing it is that his aunt is going to do the flowers for us. I got so lucky that so many members of my family are lending a hand and making our day special with their own contributions.

And I tried a new brussels sprouts recipe and devoured them at a restaurant when I got to go on an impromptu lunch with my mom on Friday afternoon. Isn’t it interesting how those little cabbages are making such a resurgence? I love the metaphor that these little veggies present. Something that has been written off for years, by children and adults since probably the 1960s have made the trendiest come back and now we pay $5 for a small bowl as an appetizer – brussels sprouts glazed in orange sauce (I highly recommend them at Restaurant 415 in Fort Collins) – or I try roasting them at home with cranberries and feta. Click here for the recipe. Don’t sell yourself short, you never know what you will find yourself loving years down the road that perhaps you hated for quite some time.

So which of The 4 Agreements stand out to you? How can you apply them to your life? Would you eat brussels sprouts with me if we sat down and had a chat about how we try to live authentically?

For more information about our guest speaker, Steve and his business Teach Authentic visit his website

52 Beautiful Things

An imperfect attempt to find some beauty the world has to offer. One week at a time.