Two

When I was a newly 24, I was sitting on a plane one day, flying back to Pennsylvania from my childhood home of Washington.  I thought about what I was doing with my life.  I thought about the things that were holding me back.  And I thought about who I was becoming. 

Not that I was going down a dark, gloomy road or anything.  I was still motivated, I was still a good person. But, the glass was only half full and my potential was being locked up. 

So, I started thinking about what use to get me going.  Playing tennis, yeah that made me feel strong and powerful.  Hiking, that made me feel alive and spiritual.  Camping made me feel serene and beautiful. 

And, writing made me feel conscious and heard. 

Thus, Fish Out of Water was born. 

It was cliche at first.  It may still be cliche, but I don't care.  It was really just for me and I knew that everything had to work itself out. 

Last year, I celebrated the anniversary of the blog with the best thing I ever wrote. This post won't be like that, but again, I don't care because its still pretty special to me.  Two years.  In two years, I got a dog, became a nurse, watched K put himself through school, and got engaged.  In two years, I went from a depressed little girl who was very homesick, to a rejuvenated woman who is now able to find her home wherever she wants to look. 

I may only have played tennis a couple of times.  I only went on two hikes.  And the only time we camped was in the backyard, and that was a disaster because of dogs. 

But,  I cooked.

Gardened.

Danced.

Photographed.

Explored.

And I wrote about it. 

We're sitting in our newly renovated basement, which we have turned into a little newlywed apartment.  And I asked K, "what did we do in the last two years? you know, other than the obvious".

We survived a couple snowpocalypses.

Conquered Little Buffalo three times. 

Took  some mini roadtrips.

Waved good-bye to 24, and that girl who felt hopeless on that plane.   

Fell in love again.

Went to Seattle like, six or seven times.  I lost count.  

Relished in Tom Douglas cuisine. 

Transformed the backyard.

Snuck into Pittsburgh. 

Made due with what we had.

Reminisced. 

And looked ahead.

I'm really proud of the life that we're forming.  Its new and alive all of a sudden.  Maybe its the room change or the fact that we share dinnerware together.  Tonight, we lay in bed, on top of the covers, watching the National Park series.  And, I know that even though I'm not climbing those mountains or standing at the summit of those falls,  I know that I am there.  I know that I am here, that I am present in my life.  I know that I am doing what I can.  I know that I want to inspire others and to keep climbing.  

I see great things for this blog this year.  I see how life will be so different on next year's anniversary.  Or maybe not, maybe we will still be relishing in life's simple pleasures, dreaming those big dreams, recording it all. 

PS:  I had hoped that "Happy Birthday Blog" would be the most popular post on this site.  However, "Big Ass Seattle post" and "Mountain Porn" continues to top the list.  Oh well.  Perverts.    

Summer. List.

Oh, I'm thinkin this blog needs a little Summer List lovin. 

Maybe because it's almost the weekend and I worked out 5 times this week.  Or, maybe its because I finally updated my itunes account and can buy new music at the click of a button.  But, something has shifted, and I'm over my funky funk and now I'm going to start dreamin big again. I know it's already a month in, but I'm going to lock this Summer down and make it my own.

This little flower inspired me.  It's the only sun flower that made it through a very rainy Spring, a omg it went from 60 to 95 June, and a greedy groundhog who makes me wish I had a pistol.  Or, a dog who would do something about it.

Look at it.  It's all naked and exposed.  It didn't really stand a chance.  It doesn't even look like a sunflower, it's so little.  But, it persevered.  And, now it's standing tall in the backyard right behind already amazing tomatoes.  How appropriate. 


I want to plant more sunflowers this Summer.  Some big, some orange, some teeny-tiny, some that wouldn't mind the birds sharing with me.


I want to see a baby bird emerge from the new bird condo that I placed in the back.

It's a very good deal.  It comes with landscaping and outdoor lighting.  Although, the floor needs some work. So does the roof structure.  Geeze, I got my money's worth.



I want to have tan shoulders this Summer.


I want to learn how to do those cool spin-push-off-moves in the pool, instead of going to the other end, stopping, turning around, and swimming back.

I want to wear an oversized sweatshirt in my parents backyard, sitting around a fire, drinking a microbrew, with nothing on my feet.

I want to eat gigantic clams with melted butter.

I want to find my Summer song.  Although, I think I've already found it. 

I want to grow more of these bad boys.

And watch my dog chase cherry tomatoes all Summer.  Tonight I gave her the first of the season.

Last Summer, she rolled around the grass, chomping happily on juicy cherry tomatoes.  This year, she stomped on it and walked away.

This Summer, I want to buy yellow shoes.  I don't know why, and I realize that's a ridiculous thing to say.  But, when I imagined my Summer List this year, I kept picturing yellow shoes on my feet.

I also want to paint my toes with those cool, girly glitter colors.  Just for a little while.  I can't wear open toe shoes at work, so it will be okay.

I want to take a mini-me vacation.  Even if it means I go to a hotel for a weekend and watch sappy movies and eat chocolate covered pretzels. 

I want to buy a country album and make it my Summer go-to tracks.

I want to lay on my back, lookin up at the stars, on Anderson field. 

I want to see someone in concert this year.  Anyone.

I want to take a half-day and drive to Little Buffalo with the dog.

I want to fall asleep in new sheets.

I want to practice dancing to our wedding song in back yard, pretending the twinkling lights are the lights of the city we'll have around us on that night.

I want to turn my desk into a craftastic wedding extravaganza.

I want to enjoy the next two and a half months.  And not freak the freak out. 

Crap, I already am freaking the freak out. 

I should keep going. 

I want to buy lots of stuff on etsy.  For the wedding, of course.

I want to take a really cool picture.  The kind that makes you go, "whoa, frame that ish."

I want to wear sunscreen, then garden all day, and rinse off with the hose and not even care.

I want to do something I didn't get to do on last Summer's List. 

I want to stop, breathe it all in, and smile. 

Haters Be Hatin'

Someday, I'll be living in a big old city. And all you'll ever be is mean.

I've been angry for a couple of weeks. Its over something really stupid that happened a couple of weeks ago, and I'll spare you the details, primarily because those reading this blog already know about them. Also because I don't want this blog to be anything like that. It's not a platform for hate or gossip.  I don't want my life to be like that, so therefore my blog shouldn't be either.  I take that back.  I haven't been angry for a couple of weeks, I've been mourning.

Mourning the loss of a friend.  Mourning the breakdown of communication.  Mourning the end of an era, or the close of a new chapter.  Its frustrating, its stupid, its pathetic really what it's turned into. 

And, I'm not saying this because I'm vengeful or evil or I'm dwelling. 

But, I'm sad. 

And this is what's going on right now.  I'm not going to sugarcoat it and say everything is rosy and full of fluffy little chickies or anything like that.  Life is very raw and tender right now.  I would use a wound analogy and use all kinds of medical terms and maybe she would understand.  Like, I'm this wound and I'm all sloughy right now, I know there's good, beefy granulation tissue underneath, but when I get to it, I'll will still be this open wound.  I need time to heal. 

I am sad.  Not angry, but sad.  Like I said, it feels like a break-up and I'm one piece of chocolate away from calling and crying and letting go of what I know is right.  I know that if I do, then I'll go back to someone I am not. 

I'm not prideful, I'm not biased, I'm not someone who lacks experience because I was given everything. 

I am wise beyond my years, I am someone who looks at all of the options, I am reasonable. 




And you know what?  I am the shit. 

No really, that may sound bad, but I mean it.  I'm pretty cool.  I know how to spike a tennis ball.  I know how to play the Claire de Lune.  I can make my own spaghetti sauce.  I can start a fire with tree sap.  I grow tomatoes from tomato seeds. 

I moved across the country in my second Hyundai Elantra, to a completely different culture and achieved my dreams.  I survived hitting a semi-truck with my first Elantra.  I liked Robin Thicke before he was cool, back when he had dreadlocks. I know exactly what to ask little old ladies to make them stop crying and smile.  I once did a perfect Michael Jackson kick to Billy Jean.  I dream of fly fishing with my best friend in Montana.  I am going to do great things, dammit. 

I don't attack.  I don't lie.  I don't point fingers and laugh at people's appearances.  I don't do things in spite of others. 

And, if this is too soap-boxy, stop me.  But, I'm sad, and I don't want to be anymore.  I don't deserve to be.  I don't deserve these things because I am a good person.  I am a good friend. 

Someone said recently that things don't seem to be good enough for us.  You know what I say?



They aren't. 



I'd like to give a big F U to this year.  It hasn't been good enough. Sure, there have been great things, but there has also been a lot of crap.  And, that's not good enough for me.

Do you expect the best for yourself?  You should.  From yourself, from your boo, from your friends, and especially from your family.  If you don't, why not?


Let's take a better look, beyond a story book.  And learn our souls are all we own, before we turn to stone. Let's go to sleep with clearer heads, and hearts too big to fit our beds. Maybe we won't feel so alone. Before we turn to stone.  And if you wait for someone elses hands, you will surely fall down.  If you wait for someone elses hands, you'll fall.  I know that I am nothing new.  There's so much more than me and you.  But Sister, how we must atone, before we turn to stone. 




I started this blog because I was horribly homesick and horribly depressed.  I was at a point where I didn't want to be anywhere anymore.  Somewhere, deep inside of me, I knew that was wrong.  I knew that there was more to give, more to get from this world, more than I deserved.  This blog became a therapist that I didn't have to fork out money for.  It was the same thing everyday, the same bullshit life, the same problems and the same hardships.  I knew it wasn't sustainable; I knew that it would kill me. 

Somewhere, from within, there was this little light that said, "You deserve better."     



I feel like that light has exploded into this raging wildfire. I'm an advocate for myself now, so that I can avoid being that girl sobbing on the kitchen floor, but also so that I can be this beautiful, healthy, radiant woman who has been hiding. 

Things should never be good enough.  Never.  If they are, then you're slacking baby.  Always reach higher, always jump farther, always push yourself to become better. 


Mediocre is a very crowded room.  Its full of people who are too prideful, too selfish to move up in the world.  They like you plain, they like you stupid, they like you negative.  It may be their fault for awhile, but after repeating the same things over and over, its your own.


All that I know is that I'm breathing now. 



I'm not going to lie, I will be sad for awhile.  You can see it on my face, in my body.  I've loved and I've lost and I don't know how to deal.  So I write.  I laugh on the phone with friends who are in the city that I call home.  I learn to picture a new wedding. I take the negativity and the vile words that were said and use them as motivation.  There will be more tears, but they'll fall less. 

I am the shit.  I'm from Seattle.  I am more experienced than that.  I know what to do next time.  I am a good person and I'm the one who comes out on top because I get me and you don't. 



There is an ancient Native American story about an old Cherokee who told his grandson about the battle that goes on within us. "My son," he told him, "Inside every one of us dwells two wolves, one evil, one good. The evil one is angry and jealous, full of regret and arrogance, greed and sorrow, guilt and self-pity. The other is good. He is kind and loving, full of hope and peace, joy and compassion."







The young boy thought about it for a moment. "Which wolf wins?" he asked his grandfather.






The old Cherokee smiled and simply replied, "...the one you feed."

Ocean City

This time last week. That's what I keep thinking about. 

Well, maybe not exactly this time last week because it would have looked like this.

We were stuck in traffic for an hour, but that didn't matter so much to us because we were getting away.  Getting away from Central Pennsylvania, from work, from problems that are so freakin stupid I could (and have) scream. 

We needed this vacation like a roast pig needs an apple.

And, since I did not take any pictures on the 3rd or 4th day of this trip, I'll group things in places, food, and experiences.



Places

This is Inn on the Ocean.  K still calls it "Annabell's" because he's been coming here since 1994, when Annabell ran it.  Now, Vicki and Charlie own the place, and together with their Boston accents, they do a pretty good job.  We have breakfast on the veranda every morning, and we make sure to tell each other "I'll have my breakfast on the Verrrraaaannndda" in a fancy English accent each day. 

We stayed in the Tapestry room this time.  It's on the top left room in the back.  It faces the hotel next door, but we don't care because it had a King size bed.  Each night it was like, "See ya later!" as we claimed our side of the bed without a 75lb black lab snoring in the middle.

Man, I really love it there.  We have an Ocean City schedule.  We choose to do things when other people aren't doing them.  We eat breakfast, then eat a big meal at 3:00 when the dinner crowd has not come back from the beach, then swim in the dusk when everyone's eating.  It's pretty genius, I'll admit it.

On Friday night, we hung out on the porch and wafted in the vacation air.  My jaw was still tense from the week and the week before that.  It loosened the next morning though, when we went to Assateague. 


Which, if you ever hear me refer to Antigua, I'm actually talking about the wild horse park because I can't for the life of me remember Assateague. 

Yeah, I said wild horses.

The National Park is filled with them. Walking around in their my little ponyness, chomping on grass, wading through swamps, running along the coast. We mostly watched them walk by cars, but it was still amazing. 

There are signs all over that warn you to stay 10 feet away from the horses. They bite.

And yes, I said National Park.

You know what that means?

We bought the first thing for our honeymoon.

I am the proud owner of the National Park Annual Pass. My dad bought me one before I moved to PA.  I'm going to buy one every year now.  Its me being me. 

Antigua was beautiful too.

Food

I'll talk about two meals here.  They're blog worthy.  Saturday was a crab feast near Assateague. 

Fried chicken, beer, peel and eat shrimp, corn on the cob, and Maryland crab.  Now, I've come to find out that you shouldn't waste your time with Maryland crab.  They're wimpy crabbies compared to those we've grown up with in Washington. 


Except......


Except these bad boys, which we had on Sunday:

Maryland soft shelled crabs.  They're worth every bite. Literally, because you eat them whole.  They don't have a hard shell on them, and they're usually fried a bit.  And. They're. Amazing.

Bucket list: check.


At night, we drank wine on the porch, watched drunk people serenade other drunk people, and had a snack on boardwalk.  It's classic boardwalk food: corndogs, Italian ice, pizza, and cannolis.  I'm not going to lie to you, my blogosphere fans.  I had a cannoli every night. Its been a stressful two weeks. 

Experiences

As I've said before, to the point where it may become the title of my blog, I miss the water most since I moved.  So, going to the ocean was a real treat for me.

K doesn't like to swim in the ocean. He says its too big and you can't see what's under you.  That's exactly why I like to swim in the ocean.  I like to feel small in the big blue.  I like to bob up and down as the waves pass, I like to jump high so the big ones don't carry me away, I like to wonder what's under me and what's about to come. Its exhilarating.  It's what I needed.  I like to feel insignificant, in a good way, in the ocean, knowing that I am just one person with just one set of beliefs. 

Even if the first wave that hit me knocked me down and pushed my bathing suit down too far. It was dusk, no one was there. 

I only swam one day.  A much needed nap took place of the second swim. Still, I was eager to run across the still-warm sand, and dip my toes in the salty water.  So, we watched the sun set into night, toes pruny and sandy from the foamy waves, and talked about how our lives are changing while looking out on the horizon.

The rest of the vacation consisted of porch wine-sipping, strolling the boardwalk hand-in-hand, and a rousing game of Life in which I fantasized about having 5 kids and an island with my husband, John Krasinski.

We checked out on the 4th of July, but only left Ocean City after our hosts presented a patriotic performance.

They blasted music like "Proud to be an American" and "This Land is Your Land" while we waved flags and boardwalk passersby gave us the thumbs up or just a confused look. 

And, if you notice the smudge of sunscreen on my camera lens (well, the lens that covers the camera lens, thank you Dad), then you will be able to see that it was a very good vacation.

We will surely be back.