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three years

October 20th. It's marked in my calendar as D-day, a sad reminder. How has it been three years? They say time heals all wounds, but I don't buy it. Anyone who has experienced loss will agree. Even now, as I write this, I miss Dugee, and the hole in my heart is just as big. Sure, the more minutes I put between myself and that day, the more familiar I get with life without him, but still.

 I have a lot of memories from that day. I remember caring too much about the clothes I would wear to the hospital - so trivial in retrospect. I remember how he lit up when I walked into the hospital room, "Hi, Coli." So bittersweet. Those were the last words he would speak to me. I remember being excited to have him home that afternoon, but being so disappointed because the morphine rendered him unconscious. There was no pain. There was no nothing. He just slept (and snored) - all afternoon, all evening, and into the night. I remember getting ready for bed and noticing that his apnea was getting worse. At least he's still breathing. 

But then he wasn't. 

Most days, life goes on as usual. But occasionally, a random wave of emotion will bear down on me and flood my eyes with tears. Because I miss him. It's funny though...I see him everyday. In me. Even as his step-daughter, there are things about me that are undeniably him. I'll drive across town to use a $1.00 coupon; I stockpile toiletries (some of which I take from the hotels I visit) under the sink and under my bed just in case I might need a shower cap and shoe polish someday; I love retrievers more than I care for most humans; and I'd rather be golfing at 3:30 on a Wednesday afternoon than stuck behind a desk. I can still hear his voice when I leave the bathroom light on or take too long of a shower, and I can't wait until Thanksgiving so I can drink too much wine and eat 'til I'm miserable. I just wish I were eating turkey and drinking wine with Dugee.

 But I can't.

 October 20th. A reminder of our fragility. And a reminder to love hard, every second of every day.
Click here to donate to The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

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3

An Air Raid and A Drive-by

Two weekends ago, I went to my very first Washington State football game. You know, the one where the Cougars were up by 14 points against Colorado with 8 minutes to go? And Mike Leach's air raid offense spiraled into a huge nosedive when it went for it on 4th down and threw an interception...instead of chipping an easy one through the uprights? No? Well, I saw it. I also saw an albino - and a girl wearing a tank top emblazoned with "PURPLE IS BY FAR THE UGLIEST COLOR". Excuse me?? No! I threw a tiny fit inside and started seriously doubting whether I could ever be a loyal Coug fan if it meant giving up aubergine, eggplant, and indigo. I got over it the next second and watched as Colorado broke the crimson heart of Martin Stadium.
Washington State University Homecoming Football Game 2012Shane Rice Washington State baseball

And last weekend, my forever friend Brittany and her son Blake came to visit for the first time (meet them here). Brittany and I have been daydreaming about this little reunion since she moved back to the U.S. Finally, she made it. Dreams really do come true.

 Their stay was short, so I squeezed a few of my Spokane favorites into a single day. First stop: Green Bluff for pumpkin donuts at Harvest House. I know eating dessert first spoils your dinner, but this was a special occasion! And when dinner is Tomato Street, I'm not so sure it's even possible to spoil. Then we threw a little slumber party - cozy blankets, white wine, white cheddar popcorn, girl talk, and giggles. What a great way to catch up. Sunday morning meant it was already time for Brittany and Blake to head back, but not without grabbing breakfast and coffee at Rockwood Bakery. Where else?..the quiche is to die for. A quick bite, a long hug, a few shameless self-takes, and just like that, they were off again. Let's just say, we're already scheming up the next reunion.
Harvest House pumpkin donuts Spokane

Rockwood Bakery South Hill Spokane
Rockwood Bakery best bakery in Spokane

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5

Eating Frogs for Breakfast

Being a grown-up is overrated. I find myself saying this a lot lately, and I shouldn't... even though it's entirely true. Or am I the only one who thinks this? I mean, if responsibility and bills are your thing, feel free to have mine. Anyway, since there's no getting around being a grown-up, I figured I should change my attitude. So I did.

I started eating frogs for breakfast. And toads on Tuesdays. Okay, I actually eat eggs whites from a carton (and sometimes maple bars), and I like turtles more than I like toads. I digress. But here's what I mean...I stumbled across an article the other day, written by someone I can assume is way smarter than me, about what successful people do during the first hour of their work day. Since the first hour of my day looks a little something like this, I knew a quick read couldn't hurt.

tree frog on pink dahliaTwo things stood out to me. First, the part about eating frogs, inspired by a Mark Twain quote: "Eat a live frog first thing in the morning and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day." Translation: clear the worst thing from your plate first thing, and the rest of your day will be a piece of cake. I do love cake. Being the save-the-best-for-last kind of girl that I am, I've embraced this eating frogs idea whole-heartedly. I pick the things I want to do least and do them first. I've also decided to tackle all the most terrible tasks (or toads, for metaphor's sake) on Tuesdays. I would do them on Monday, but I think transitioning from weekend to the work week is the biggest frog of all.

Now, conquering the worst thing first thing isn't exactly easy. Sometimes finding the energy to even get started (or out of bed) is a task in itself, and if you've got an ounce of procrastination in you, there's a good chance you won't get anything done at all. Talk about your all-time backfires. Which brings me to the second thing that grabbed my attention: Gain Awareness, Be Grateful. The article suggests setting up "mindful first hour rituals" to get motivated, which can be a personalized mix of exercise, meditation, prayer, and self-reflection.

So instead of spending twenty minutes in the shower every other morning, wishing I could crawl back under my duvet from heaven, I've been spending that time thinking about everything I'm grateful for - in life, in love, and in my job. I could count blessings till the water ran cold. I'm beginning to cherish this time. It helps me put things in perspective and helps me prepare to dominate my to-do list. If I'm still struggling to get the ball rolling, I spend a few minutes indulging in a few simple pleasures that inspire me, like cupcakes and cashmere, compelling travel articles (Why You Should Travel Young), or Dan Patrick's Wall of Morale. No wonder Dan Patrick is so successful.

And when all else fails, just add coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

So just how much does the first hour of every day matter? As it turns out, a lot. My new routine has made a huge difference. I feel productive, disciplined, smart, and happy. That last one's kind of a big one.

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