Living Life to the Fullest

I love to travel. Love it. In fact, there's almost nothing else in the world that I'd rather do.

Skip the designer clothes. I don't have a hunger for fancy, four star restaurants. I don't need to drive around in a thirty thousand dollar vehicle, thank you very much. And I can certainly live without Pottery Barn home accessories. (That's what Ikea and Pier 1 are for...)

Save it all, slap it into the bank, and stamp travel on it.

Exploring, searching, relaxing, seeing, learning, loving, living - that's what travel is all about. A thrilling adventure. A chance to break away from the daily grind and reconnect with who-you-really-are.

Travel allows you to escape yourself long enough so that you can find yourself.

Most people don't travel enough. They don't vacation enough. And they certainly don't take enough time to stop in their tracks and smell the roses.

I can't remember the exact statistics, but it's said that Americans take somewhere between two weeks to one month less vacation days than the rest of the world. That's fourteen to thirty days less than what we already take now. (Which, for the majority of us, isn't much to begin with.)

God, it's no wonder that stress and depression threaten the lives of over half our country's population.

Most folks will claim that they can't afford to take that much time off of work. And I can understand, to a degree. Believe me.

But when is it worth it? When does never taking a day off benefit YOU? What reward are you really going to get by going in to the office when you're sick? Or turning down a chance to spend time with family that you already don't get to see enough of in the first place? All because you feel you can't ask for time off from work? Because you feel you can't spend more than a day or two away from your job?

When you're on your death bed, are you going to get a prize? An extension? A bonus for spending so much time at work that you didn't get to enjoy your life? Will you get a gold star for working your fingers to the bone at a job that you really didn't like much to begin with?

Life is precious. Too precious to live for anyone but yourself. And definitely too short to live the same day twice.

Very recently, I heard of a couple who decided that life was too precious to live the same day over and over again. They sold their house, cars and pretty much all of their material possessions, bought a boat and spent several years sailing around the world - meeting people, creating new opportunities, seeking new adventures, appreciating each other and, basically, just living life to the fullest.

Now, while Chris and I aren't yet ready for that kind of leap, we are lucky enough to have been bitten by the Travel Bug. We do realize how important it is to take time off for ourselves. Time to quench our thirst for travel. Time to explore this beautiful world that we're so fortunate enough to inhabit. Time to live life to the fullest every day - not just for four days out of the year.

And because I woke up this morning missing San Juan Island so much it hurt, here's a shot from the ferry we took on the way over. Leaving at four o'clock in the morning definitely had its advantages.



______________________

"The feeling of being hurried is not usually the result of living a full life and having no time. It is on the contrary born of a vague fear that we are wasting our life. When we do not do the one thing we ought to do, we have no time for anything else- we are the busiest people in the world."
-- Eric Hoffer

My New Favorite Place

First it was Deception Pass. Then it was Fort Ebey. Boulder River Trail was next. Rialto Beach followed. Then it was Mt. Rainier. Shortly after, it was Cannon Beach. A few weeks later it was Kalaloch Beach. Etc. Etc. Etc.

For the past two years, every time we visit a new place out here, Chris usually hears something like this:

"Omigod! This is amazing! Beautiful! My favorite place ever!"

"Wow! Now this - THIS is my absolute favorite place. Evvvvver!"

"This is so it... My new favorite spot!"

"Seriously, I love it here. It's, like, totally my favorite place out here. Seriously."

Hmmmmm...

Well, guess what? I've now got a new favorite place.

The San Juan Islands.

Friday Harbor. Roche Harbor. South Beach. False Bay. The Crab House.

My new favorites. EVER. ;)

_______________________

“He who does not travel does not know the value of men.”

-- Moorish proverb

Ten Cents a Strike

When I was younger, I earned an allowance. Just like most kids.

My parents - like most parents - wanted to teach me the value of a dollar. They wanted to impress upon me the value of a hard day's work. And they wanted me to feel the exhilaration of earning my own keep.

But, most importantly, I think they just wanted me to be a good softball pitcher.

My friends from school earned their allowance by doing various chores around the house: taking out the trash, washing the dishes, cleaning their rooms, mowing the yard, raking leaves, doing the laundry...

I earned my allowance by pitching strikes.

No, my parents weren't diehard sports fans. And they certainly weren't those intense, Type A control freaks who take children's sports way beyond the extreme. They weren't reliving their youth through me, or basking in the glow of my pre-teen successes.

But they were creative enough to incorporate an incentive into my softball practices. And money, needless to say, was a huge incentive.

It all started with ten cents a strike.

I can still picture my mother sitting cross-legged in our garage on an old lawn chair, her back ramrod straight, a notepad and pen clutched professionally in her hand, an encouraging smile on her face... And my dad, of course, anxiously pacing, pacing, pacing - and critiquing my every pitch with keen, watchful eyes.

My target was an old drywall tarp that my dad had hung in the garage. The strike zone was a carefully measured, perfectly centered splash of green paint. Whenever one of my pitches hit that particular spot, my mother would make a mark. Check, check. Twenty cents. Check, check, check. Another thirty cents.

After pitching close to one hundred and fifty pitches a day, it wasn't long before I was raking in the dough. Needless to say, I became a very accurate pitcher.

Eventually my mother had the bright idea of toting her little notebook along to my games and recording my strikeouts. Those were worth a whole dollar. I remember one tournament in particular where I pitched close to seven games in three days. On the way home, I not only clutched a trophy in my hand, but a cool seventy-five bucks as well.

Up until I was fourteen, that was how I earned my allowance. Pitch by pitch. Strike by strike.

It was a fun way to make money.

Today, as I flipped through my file of photographs and polished various prints, I was reminded of those glory days when I earned my allowance by doing something that I loved. I was fortunate enough to be able to develop a skill while keeping my pockets full. And now, sixteen years later, I've found another fun way to do the same thing.

My store on Etsy will be opening in June. With a little luck and a whole lot of positive thinking, it should prove to be another way to develop a skill while keeping my pockets full.

Hey, those dimes add up.
__________________________

In honor of my dad, who gave up a lot so I could play softball for two teams, travel every weekend for All-Star tournaments, and buy the most expensive pair of cleats. He lost his battle with cancer when I was fourteen. After he was gone, the game was never quite the same...

Then I Became a Softball Dad

"I used to have a regular life. (Actually, many of my friends say that sentence should say, "I used to have a life", period.) It doesn't really seem that long ago. Then I became a Softball Dad.

My lawn used to be like a carpet. It was green, mowed, trimmed, fertilized, and watered. Any weeds that dared to show their leaves were pulled out by their roots. Now I have two big bare spots forty feet apart. I like the bare spots. I like them because they are the only places that the weeds and crab grass aren't threatening to take over.

My car used to draw admiring looks and comments. It was clean and waxed and shined and Armor All'd. Now it only draws attention when it wins the "dirtiest car in the parking lot" prize.

My friends and I used to spend Monday mornings talking about five-iron shots, three-putts, and titanium shafts. Now I bore them to death with detailed play-by-play descriptions of five or six low-scoring ball games. Somehow, they just don't understand the drama of a 2-0 game.

I used to think anything over $40 was an exorbitant price for a ball bat. Now the contents of my daughter's equipment bag are worth more than everything else in the car together - including clothes, jewelry, watches, and laptop computer.

I used to have a great wife. Still do, Thank God. But that's a tribute to her patience and good humor. We used to sit and talk for hours. We still do - to keep each other awake when we're headed home from a tournament in the wee hours of Monday morning. We used to wonder what the kids would do when they grew up. Now she wants to know what I'm going to do IF I ever grow up.

My summer casual wardrobe used to be made up of color-coordinated polo shirts, cool cottons in bright colors, and the occasional "aloha" shirt. Now I have a closet full of T-shirts in gray and red. Those that don't have COMETS on the front have a cute saying on the back, like "If You Follow Me Long Enough, You'll End Up at a Ball Field." or "Friends Don't Let Friends Play Slowpitch."

I used to glue myself to the sofa and watch the NCAA basketball tournament and the Masters from opening Ceremony through network sign off. Now, I catch the highlights on Sportscenter.

I used to be one of the tops in my field. Thank goodness, I still am.
(You have to keep a good paycheck coming in if you want to support a Tournament Softball habit!)

I used to have sympathy for umpires. I used to think boys were tough. I used to think a double-header was a long day at the ballfield. Now we're just getting warmed up.

We used to spend our summer vacation relaxing on the beach or visiting family. Now we hit the road every weekend with 40 of our closest friends.

I used to think the ideal woman had brains and beauty. She still does, but now she better also be quick, courageous, and able to bunt a good rise ball.

I used to look for little restaurants that served seafood fresh off the boat. Now I'm a connoisseur of nachos and smoked sausages.

I used to be concerned that I would fall into the trap of living my life through my daughters. Now I know that I'm privileged to live my life WITH my daughters."
-- Author Unknown

Things We Remember

Chris and I never really knew ourselves until we moved to the Pacific Northwest.

It's a fact. Once out here, we discovered a whole new life. A life that we liked. A life that we now value. A life that we, even though we didn't know it, actually spent our entire lives wishing for.

The amount of change that each of us has gone through out here is extraordinary. Physically, emotionally, spiritually... We're not the same people we were back in the Midwest.

Out here, we have access to a vast playground fully equipped with nature's very own jungle gym - rugged mountain landscapes; sprawling, untamed beaches; unending acres of old-growth forests; snowcapped peaks; hot desert lakes; a lush river gorge; and a million and one hiking trails just waiting to be explored. And, to top that off, there's the eclectic, never-a-dull-moment city of Seattle to keep us constantly entertained. Safe to say, after two years out here, we still aren't tired of it. And we probably never will be.

There are, however, times when I find my mind wandering. Wandering back. Back fifteen hundred miles, to be exact.

I have to admit, there are days when I think about the Midwest.

We haven't been back to the Midwest in over two years. Do we miss it? Not so much. But we do remember it fondly.

So, in honor of our home away from home, here are some things about the Midwest that we remember. Very fondly.

1. Humid summer nights.

2. Lightning bugs.

3. Air so cold it takes your breath away. Literally.

4. Taco John's.

5. Thunderstorms, charcoal skies, and tornado warnings.

6. Morningside. Otherwise known as God's Country.

7. Milwaukee Weiner House.

8. The prickling chill of the air conditioner against sweaty skin.

9. Pete's 20th. (Okay, that's my fond memory. Chris opts out of this one.)

10. The buzzing of Cicadas.

11. Cornfields. (Seriously.)

Iowa and Minnesota will always be a part of who we are. Chris and I will always be Midwesterners at heart. And we're proud of that. Like I said, we remember our roots very fondly.

But the Pacific Northwest? That's part of who we are now. It's who we were. Who we've become. And who we're becoming.
___________________________

"This is my corn. You people are guests in my corn."
-- Ray Kinsella (from Field of Dreams)

A Series of Yeses

Chris and I often appreciate the circumstances that brought us together. Every now and then we'll stop in our tracks and sigh with relief that the Universe didn't forget about us. And more than once we've pondered the wonderment of Fate.

It was by sheer chance that we met.

Granted, it was no coincidence that my manager at 1st Financial Bank called me up and invited me down to Johnny's on the River for a fellow co-worker's going away party that night. And no, it wasn't a coincidence that another 1st Financial Bank employee invited Chris to the same party. It wasn't even really a coincidence that we managed to sit at the same table and, after a shot or two of tequila, fall into a comfortable conversation about everything from the town of Spencer to my dog, Molly.

The sheer chance of the matter falls to all the little twists and turns that each of us had to take to get to that night. The overwhelming amount of chance encounters and situations that led us to the same bar in the same town on the same night at exactly the same time.

What if I had said, "Nope. Sorry, Kris. I can't come down tonight..." And what if Chris had told Trent that no, he already had other plans for the evening? To be even more bold, what if I had said no to taking the position at 1st Financial Bank in the first place? And what if Chris, wanting to stick close to his hometown of Spencer, had said no to Tyson Foods when they offered him a job in Sioux City one year prior to our meeting?

I could go on and on. And on.

What it all boils down to is a series of yeses. One yes after another, each leading us steadily toward each other. Step by step. Yes by yes.

Of course, this is how Fate works for everyone. We're no different. But we are thoughtful enough to sit back and marvel at the universal forces that brought us together. To understand the simple fact that one tiny "no" could have thrown us off track and out of each other's orbits altogether.

Although I didn't know it, I desired Chris. I desired a man like Chris. A wonderfully strong, intelligent, creative, open-minded, thoughtful, adventurous man like Chris. And, even though I think this makes him slightly insane, he desired someone like me.

I think each of us had a lot more to do with crossing paths than we thought.

Fate is a wonderful thing. An amazing sort of Grace. It gives you what you desire, so long as what you desire is felt with every fiber of your Being.

Chris and I are lucky. We're blessed. We appreciate Fate.

And we're thankful for the series of yeses in our lives.




_______________________________

"We create our fate every day we live."
-- Henry Miller

I Am...

I AM … thankful.
I WANT… to take a spontaneous trip. Tomorrow.
I HAVE … a secret fetish for musicians in eyeliner.
I KEEP … getting happier and happier. Every day.
I WISH I COULD … spend tomorrow reading on a tropical beach.
I HATE … people who hate.
I FEAR … having a fear of something.
I HEAR … Dehlia "talking" to Chris.
I DON’T THINK … I'll ever want to live anywhere other than the Pacific Northwest.
I REGRET … having Subway for dinner. Chris' Teriayki Etc smelled much better.
I LOVE … red shoes, leather boots, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and foot massages. (Am I sensing a foot fetish here??)
I AM NOT … going to live with regret.
I DANCE … little jigs daily.
I SING … not very well. But I'm okay with it.
I NEVER … want to lose my sense of humor.
I RARELY … feel the need to return to my childhood home.
I CRY WHEN I WATCH … ASPCA commercials. And the movie Cool Runnings.
I AM NOT ALWAYS … serious.
I HATE THAT … everything that tastes good is bad for you and everything that is good for you tastes bad.
I’M CONFUSED ABOUT … the public's obsession with Reality TV.
I NEED … my husband.
I SHOULD … go to the gym. (So I can later enjoy a Reeses's Peanut Butter Cup.)


One reason we don't mind getting stuck in traffic out here... (A view of Mt. Rainier through the window of our Jeep.)



_____________________________

"Of all the fire mountains which like beacons, once blazed along the Pacific Coast, Mount Rainier is the noblest."
-- John Muir

I Love Saturdays

I just e-mailed Chris.

Hey. Wanna go to the Aquarium this weekend? Or the Zoo?? :)

His reply:

Okay. :) Sounds like fun.

Fun. I love having fun. Especially with my husband.

It seems there are far too many people not having fun lately. I see our clients push their way into our clinic, stern-faced and serious, their cell phones attached to their ears, hastily arranging and rearranging their busy work schedules. Making plans for business dinners, business outings, business meetings, business trips...

It seems that some people are up to some kind of business all the time.

All. The. Time.

After we moved out to Washington, Chris and I made the decision that life is too important to waste. Too precious to live in business-mode all the time. We agreed to make time for each other, our passions, and the simpler things in life. We vowed to make time for fun.

And that's why Saturdays are so important to us. With the work week so hectic and time-consuming, we really only have the weekend to break free from our restraints and live life to the fullest. No holds-barred. Free and uninhibited. No business allowed.

Every Saturday is a birthday. An anniversary. A holiday. A reason to hold on tightly to each other's hand and just appreciate being together. Being in love. And being alive.

Saturdays, for us, are what keep life sweet.

So, this weekend, I'm going to roll out of bed, kiss my husband on the cheek, and enjoy another beautiful Saturday with him. Rain or shine. It doesn't matter. As long as we have fun.

No business allowed.

________________________________

"Take it easy baby, take it as it comes - specialize in having fun!"
-- Jim Morrision, The Doors

Whidbey Island

The first road trip we took after moving out here was to Whidbey Island. The first sight of Deception Pass took our breath away. And today, two years later, it still does...

Chris at Greenbank Farm... (And graciously still allowing me to practice my photography / Photo Shop skills...) ;)

Beautiful view from the ferry...

The best rhubarb pie EVER.

_______________________

“This life is yours. Take the power to choose what you want to do and do it well. Take the power to love what you want in life and love it honestly. Take the power to walk in the forest and be a part of nature. Take the power to control your own life. No one else can do it for you. Take the power to make your life happy.”

-- Susan Polis Schutz

Life, and What's Important

There is nothing more important in life than feeling good.

Throughout the last few weeks, I've fallen off the wagon. Lost my train of thought. And become desensitized to what's really important in life.

It's easy to do. People do it every day, in fact. Fall into a sort of dreamlike state and move through life with all the rigidity of a robot. And some people, unfortunately, never wake up.

Over the last year and a half, I've done sort of a "spiritual cleansing" where I've tossed out old behaviors, beliefs, and patterns of thought that weren't working for me. And, in doing that, I've discovered what's really important in life.

Well, duh, you say. The important things in life are family, friends, health...

And I agree. To an extent.

What I've learned - and some of you may not agree, and that's fine - is that I am the most important thing in my life. Just like you should be the most important thing in your life. And Joe The Plumber should be the most important thing in Joe The Plumber's life.

I'm talking about loving yourself. And, without getting all sentimental and wishy-washy, I'm going to propose that loving oneself is really the most important thing an individual can do. The most important and essential kind of love there is.

Please note - I'm not talking about vanity. And I'm certainly not promoting narcissistic behavior or arrogant infatuations.

For all you people-pleasers out there, stop. Seriously. It's not easy to do - I know from experience. I used to be one of the biggest people-pleasers out there. It was almost like I had the attitude of a Labrador Retriever. What can I do for you? How can I help you? What do you need? What can I get you? Huh, huh, huh? Oh, don't get up - I'll get it! I'm on it! Oh, no, don't worry - I'm fine! No, I'm not really that tired, not really that sick. It's only a one hundred and two degree temperature, but I can handle it. Now really, what can I do for you? How can I make your day - your life - better? What dreams can I give up to help you accomplish yours?

Wow. It was exhausting. But it was the way I was brought up to be. I didn't know any different.

It was only when I began to feel so depressed, so tired, and so completely wiped out that I finally allowed myself to stop for a minute and think, What the hell am I doing?

Luckily, I have a terrific husband who - along with some other influential guides - helped me to see the light. Helped me to realize that by not properly taking care of myself, I wasn't really taking care of anyone else. To understand that by catering to various employers, co-workers, clients, so-called friends, and just random people I'd interact with on a daily basis, I didn't have time for myself. Didn't give myself the care and attention that I so desperately needed. And, as a result of that misguidance, wasn't really giving anyone - myself included - a full hundred percent.

I mean, how can you really give it your all when you're depressed, tired, worn out? How can you really do and be your best when you are running on empty? And how can you truly live when you are so busy helping other people achieve their dreams that you don't have the time to reach for yours?

It's impossible.

Therefore, you must love yourself. Put yourself first above all else. Honestly. Because, when you take the time to make yourself happy, you'll make others happy. When you're in good spirits, only then can you positively influence those around you in a way that will truly make the world a better place.

Again, it may sound a bit wish-washy, but it's a fact.

Think about it. How happy are you when your significant other/child/roommate/boss /co-workers are depressed, agitated, angry, or sick? How much fun is it to be around someone who is so busy helping others that he or she is only a shell of a person? A worn out, bitter servant to society? Is that twisted, exhausted person really making the world a better place? Really putting honest-to-goodness smiles on people's faces?

No.

Now, if there comes a time when you want to do something for someone else, go for it. Wanting to please someone out of the goodness of your own heart is something different entirely. I'm not trying to promote indifference. I'm simply suggesting that you limit yourself. Take care of yourself. And know where to draw the line.

If you're a chronic people-pleaser, it may take awhile to let go. To stop being a stepping stool or doormat. But once you do, it's smooth sailing. It's literally exhilarating. Believe me.

Once I stopped catering to others, I learned so much about myself. Discovered so many wonderful qualities and strengths that I never even knew I had. Over the last several years, I've uncovered endless talents, awakened slumbering passions, and uprooted previously buried desires that have led me, step by step, to unending experiences of bliss, love, wonder, and fulfillment.

(Oh, so wishy-washy...)

So, take time to cater to yourself. Treat yourself. Love yourself. Don't fall into the rigidity of your daily routine. Don't allow your days, weeks, years to be monotonous. Don't find yourself at the end of your life wishing you'd done it differently.

Like I said, I have my husband to help me. I realize how lucky I am. When I fall off the wagon, he helps me back up. Keeps me on track. Let's me be me. And he's able to do that because he cares enough about himself to make sure he's happy. And when he's happy, I'm happy. It's like a vicious circle. But not really all that vicious. (Hmmmm... Does that make any sense?)

I used to complain to Chris that I felt like I was viewing life two-dimensionally. Like I was looking at everything through an old, time-worn film projector. Since re-claiming my life, I'm finally starting to see things in full-on 3-D. Life is bigger and better than I could have ever imagined. All because I realized that there is nothing more important in life than that I feel good.

Hold the side order of guilt, please.






Taking pictures makes me feel good. ;)
_________________________

"People will love you, people will hate you, and none of it will have anything to do with you."
-- Abraham / Hicks

Rx: Get a Pet

Dog. Cat. Rabbit. Ferret. Hamster. Rat.

Whatever.

My advice to you - regardless of your preference - is to get a pet. Whether you're simply feeling a bit blue or suffering from major depression, a pet can and will help you.

Yesterday I saw the truth of this first hand.

Life can be tough. Regardless of how upbeat and cheerful we are, no matter what kind of positive outlook we have on life, it is inevitable that something will eventually try to bring us down. Some random catastrophe during the day/week/year will, without notice, consume whatever good-feeling thoughts we're having and temporarily drain us of our happiness. Of our appreciation. And of our joy.

It's an indisputable fact that, no matter how few and far between they are, there are days when the glass is going to be half empty.

The woman who came into the clinic yesterday was having one of those days. Her glass, at least from her point of view, was nowhere near full. It was obvious from the moment she walked in the door.

A loud sigh. Shoulders tensed. Her face twisted into a scowl. Heels clicking angrily on the ceramic-tiled floor...

I smiled and offered a hello. She ignored it.

Her lips drawn into a thin line, she stomped past the counter, grabbed a bag of prescription cat food, stalked back to the counter, and slammed the eighteen pound bag down in front of me.

So, a challenge, I thought. I brightened my smile. Tried a bit of chit-chat as I updated her account.

It didn't work. The only responses I seemed able to draw from her were sharp, one word answers.

Okay, I thought. Time to throw in the towel. Sometimes people in bad moods just want to be left alone. I get it. No problem.

And then, low and behold, I witnessed a miracle.

While I had my attention turned to the credit card machine, I heard, "Oh, hello there, sweetie..."

A voice as sweet as syrup. Could it be? I glanced up and, yep, it had come from the woman whose glass was half empty.

A bit confused, as I was pretty sure she wasn't talking to me, I twisted around in my chair, searching for the source of her affection. And there it was.

Moochie. Our office cat.

Slinking around the corner of the desk, she gracefully hopped up onto the counter and seductively made her way toward our disgruntled client.

My jaw dropped. Seriously. I mean, it was an amazing thing to watch. The woman's entire countenance changed. Her eyes softened. Her face relaxed. Her lips pulled into a smile. Her posture opened up. And I could almost see the weight lift from her shoulders.

Like I said - it was a miracle.

As she chatted with Moochie, I simply sat and stared. And tried to pry my jaw up off the floor.

Of course, being an animal lover, I know that having a pet is beneficial to a person's health. I love my girls immensely. But seeing an example such as this - seeing proof such as this - was close to mind blowing.

The woman looked over at me and smiled. Talked a little bit about her cat. Smiled some more. Laughed.

Throughout the rest of our interaction, her hand did not stray from the purring feline.

Her mood had done a complete one-eighty. In a matter of seconds. All because of a cat.

Crazy.

It's said that "animals encourage social interaction between people." Obviously. And among other things.

I went home to our two girls last night and hugged them. Gave them a treat. And thanked them for lowering my blood pressure.

And Chris thanked Molly for his one gray hair.

Eh, not everything's perfect. ;)



________________________________

"I love that quiet time when nobody's up and the animals are all happy to see me."
-- Olivia Newton