goodbye, 2011.

at the beginning of this year i wrote here that this would be "my year."

looking back, i'm not quite sure what i meant by that, or even what my expectations were. i think because twentyseven is my favorite number i hoped this year would offer something completely spectacular... that everything would be good all the time. wrong.

turns out twothousand eleven offered the highest highs and lowest lows and that made for an interesting year. i experienced new joys and sorrows which expanded my view and capacity to understand myself and those around me. i am grateful for this year, as difficult as it's been to move forward, though.

looking back... this year i took a trip to pasadena, asher joined our family, i took some trips to sugar bowl, i celebrated lauren's birthday in yountville, i got a promotion, wine night started, my best friend got engaged, john from martin's died, i traveled to santa barbara for becky's bachelorette, i finished my session with braces, becky got married, my romantic relational shit hit the fan, i joined a running club, i read a lot of poetry, i found a new therapist, i started working at a restaurant, i went to tahoe for wimberly's bachelorette, i made some pies, i ran another marathon, i walked beside a friend who was misdiagnosed, i went to the engstrom's in santa cruz, i went on a cruise with my family in alaska, my dad got sick, my mft hours got approved, i went back to santa barbara, kyle and i had a birthday party, kiah and anna got mason and some of us threw a little party, i had an incredible birthday week, leanne and dave got hitched, i went to boston and chicago, and my family came to town for christmas. it was a really good year.

what i'm most proud of, though, is the work i've been doing on my own, for myself: connecting the dots of my story and understanding the impacts of my decisions. i'm learning how to take care of myself better and ask for what i need, which i may have learned the hard way, but i'm glad it's a process that's part of my life right now. i'm hopeful that i'll continue to find my voice, listen to myself and increase my courage along the way.

goodbye twothousand eleven, it was another bittersweet year.

the lives they lived.

with ira glass guest editing for the new york times magazine, his crew put together stories about ordinary people... it's nice to read these.

the most intriguing for me: grete waltz, nate dogg, and jack lalanne,



thanks for passing it on, mom!

here's to.

letting an anteater eat yogurt from your palm.
being the kind of grown up who knows herself.
clementines with aunty em.
phone conversations in the middle of the party.
picking out the perfect bedding.

it's quiet here right now.

from last week- photo strip with my dear nephews, the source of laura and zack's wedding cake, the view on our walk toward mit, an appetizer with maggie and nick:


tonight i've had maggie's current favorite song, we found love by rihanna, on repeat. for no particular reason.

last week when i arrived home to sfo i saw a "welcome to san francisco" sign from the mayor, edward lee. in that moment i felt the familiarity of having a home, somewhere to belong, a place where i'm known. i don't know how to recreate that exact feeling but i know where to find it...

if you can't find me, i'll be at the airport.

when did it become the middle of december?

oh, at the same time that i vacationed to boston and chicago. and at the same time that my roommate got engaged. and when i became triple booked for holiday parties. and i had to get seventeen gift exchange gifts. welcome to the holidays.

two sundays in for advent, my favorite season of all. love.

i did not get an A in geography.

so st. louis is not in michigan. i know that and i knew that but it's not what came out of my mouth tonight. hilarious and embarrassing, all at once. my audience was shocked.

i tell you the above incident because i'm actually fine. the last post i wrote worried quite a few of you which resulted in my text limit being reached and me receiving two calls from my mother during the week (instead of the usual one). so here's what i have to report: i'm okay. last thursday was just one of those days that i don't want to re-live. and as humbling as it was to receive one lonely comment from my friend lesley, who these days knows all-to-well about days you don't want to re-live, it was a good reminder that i am a little bit sensitive and going through some well-needed change, and with that might come some drama. the end.

on a completely different note: i learned tonight that my dreams will come true in the next two years as i'm planning to attend a kennedy wedding. HOLD THE PHONE.

there are days that i never want to re-live.

today was one: tired eyes and crying eyes and did-i-really-just-come-home-to-that eyes and surprised eyes and confused eyes and sad eyes... really, really sad eyes.

i will write more when i have words. for now, i think i'll rest. my eyes.

three goals, ninetynine days and counting.

at the end of february twothousand eleven, di and i were walking from the theaters at yerba buena downtown. we had just passed mel's diner and i blurted out, "i'm making some goals, di... something tells me things are gonna be rough around these parts and i've gotta keep myself going. i've got three." she oooed and awwwed like she always does (good friend) and thought my goals were totally accomplishable. i've been hesitant to share them with you because it means i'm accountable to a lot more people than just di.

but today brings the days left from three digits to two... ninetynine days until they're due.

i gave myself threehundred and sixtyfive days to accomplish the following:

one- run another marathon. (completed on july 31! yahoo.)

two- pass my first (of two) mft exams. (gerry grossman, eat your heart out.)

three- sing a song in public. (song and venue chosen, exact date tbd. still practicing.)

there ya go. in writing, on the Internet, pressure's on. ready, go.

it's time to put my money where my mouth is.

and let my yes be yes and my no be no and really, i mean, really following through because more than anything, i need to stop torturing my friends. i'm making my clean getaway and because of it, maria taylor's song is stuck in my head:

I made my place by the door.
I didn't know what I was waiting for.
Felt just like home.
Except no grass, no yard, no pictures.

I could see across to the park.
And there were friends, they were laughing hard.
They looked just like my home.
With no face, no name, no voice I'd know.

I finally made it.
I made a clean getaway.
I finally made it.
I made a clean getaway.

I met someone at the bar.
He had a great smile and a great heart.
He felt just like love.
Except no fear of losing, and it wasn't tough.

I finally made it.
I made a clean getaway.
I finally made it.
I made a clean getaway.
And I miss you,
I miss you every single day.

twothousand twelve is going to be completely different... i mean, i hope to still find nerds in my keyboard at work, but it should just be less Crazy. that's what we're going for Party People: a little bit less Crazy. who's with me?!

it's the hap, happiest day of the year.

ELECTION DAY! hope you got your vote on.

wise wise words.

"it's not that you don't know what you want, emily. it's that you don't know what you deserve."

so i'm working on that... thinking about what i deserve and how i got to the place where i believe in half-assed relationships and constantly lowering my expectations. no good, no no good.

on a lighter note: i think if you get subpoenaed it should be license to purchase a new outfit. right? hello, law and order debut!

back in the saddle.

sometimes my roommates refer to a return-to-cycling-after-some-time-away as getting back in the saddle. when they do this, i feel a bit left out. there isn't a saddle with running... it's just me and some shoes. the phrase doesn't apply.

whatever. on saturday i felt like i was getting back in the saddle... the first long run since july thirtyfirst and i remembered all the good things about the way the process makes me feel: it's as if i'm achieving something, making it and moving forward. i feel empowered when i run. i get a little bit crazy and believe that i can do anything.

and as i think about this more, i've decided that i'm not going to get off the saddle (is it okay that i keep going with this?). my jobs are starting to settle, my feet are healthy again and my heart and mind aren't as crazy as they used to be.

there's no reason for a break, no reason at all. giddyup!

my favorite modern art in all of san francisco.

located in the presidio, i stumbled upon these pieces about six months ago while on a run. after the race last sunday i made my way back to these ginormous letters, only to feel as if they were written for me. it's a peculiar place- quiet and camouflaged, stunning and impactful.



there are three total- they read:
adapt to change
resolve conflict with song
nest from the inside out

read more about the artist and installation here.

i got there this morning and unexpectedly cried.

ever since my marathon, i've decided that if i'm able, i'd like to support- by running alongside for some of the miles- as many of my friends who are running in races. shelby ran the nike women's half marathon this morning and as i rolled out of bed and showed up on the course, that silly little clementine showed up in my throat and tears started to fall from my eyes. i'm trying to work out in this post what was going on for me: maybe it's because it's been ten weeks since i ran the san francisco marathon and i was overwhelmed by the over twentytwo thousand runners coming toward me- the ones who had put in extensive hours training for the day that had finally arrived? maybe because i knew the training these people put in? maybe because this race was benefiting team in training and i saw so many "honorees" running by (runners who have or have had cancer)? maybe because i thought of how meaningful it was for me when nineteen of you showed up on the course? or maybe, just maybe, it's because the last seven months of pain and joy replayed in my mind and the process of training and running a marathon as a redemptive process was more present than ever before?

i started to fight the tears as i waited for shelby and then i just let go. my eyes filled up and i stood there completely overwhelmed by the runners and my own experience.

marathon running is a spiritual experience that moves me beyond my control. i can't wait to go back.

leanne and dave made a few vows.

and we got dressed up and played in the photo booth. it was a great night, as evidenced by some of us having bruised ribs from dancing so long.

underrated people: ashley.

more and more i've walked into moments of my life where i stop to think, "damn. i am surrounded by some pretty astounding people." sometimes it goes as far as the infamous friend crush being born. and sometimes i just pause to think about that person for a good twelve seconds, catching myself distracted by their depth or their beauty or their skills. and then i get a little bit jealous for you because you don't [get to] know them. so i spent some time thinking about how you could share in my joy- the simplicity of who they are- some of the most underrated people in my world. i've decided to introduce them to you, one by one, to sharpen my attempts of describing someone in words, as well as showcase them in all their radness.

she's somewhere before thirty and constantly working on being the best version of herself. she is, hands down, the hardest working person in the room; she rarely stops, only to sip a glass of the latest bragg's beverage. i've never met a more even-keeled woman; she is consistent and kind and gentle and patient. her resilience inspires me to get better at whatever i'm working on. she is ashley.

life is better with.

mister seahorse, the children's book by eric carle.
deciccio broccoli.
dancing so much you believe you pulled a stomach muscle.
delfina dinners at the counter.
leanne all dressed up in a long ivory dress.
roasted pear and celery soup.
modern family one-liners.
a really good french toast recipe.
four mile loops without my garmin.
seveneleven gift cards.
reassuring aunts.
sometimes purple, sometimes grey nail polish.
guayaki yerba mate.
unexpected bottles of wine after working until tenthirty.
nephews who chase wind tunnels.
free flights.
you.

proud cousin.

let this be the one.

some of my favorite people in the world are venturing/have ventured into the land of fost/adopting children. having worked in this field for the past two and a half years and seeing my friends make these choices- to consciously enter into the system, not to rescue, but to love- makes me a little bit more confident in this world, the one where i hear about five year olds being shot in their neighborhood and famines in africa. i'm overwhelmed as i think about the jordans and quinlans- if anyone has the strength to travel on this journey, it's them.

this weekend we celebrated the arrival of m.j.; the food and decor went off without a hitch. i'd say it was a success as we heard some male attendees say, "if this is what baby showers are like, i'm not going to miss another one!" wishes and hopes were created for m.j.: "i hope you grow taller than your dad." "i wish you have passion to write like your mom." "i hope the jordans are your forever family." i drove away from the little city north of los angeles with a full heart; confident in the jordans as parents, their community of friends and family, and that m.j. will be unconditionally loved.

lucky for me, anna q. and i had some rich discussions about many things, but particularly the process of fost/adopting... we talked about the idea of fostering becoming cool, trendy, etc. and when i write these words i can hear her voice- with much conviction- "if ever there's a trend to be a part of, let this be the one." i get a little bit teary when i think about this... in my life, today- on october fifth, there isn't anything i agree with more. regardless of whether the jordans and quinlans are doing this because it's cool (they're not), i surely hope that fost/adopting is the next trend like eating organic, wearing leggings, drinking pbr, etc. because, really, how different could this world look if that were the case?

this is my year, it really is.

it's been one hell of a year, or at least three hundred and sixtyfour days.

i went to greece and turkey. i dated someone who was absolutely perfect for me on paper but that's where things ended. i ran a marathon in eightyone degree heat/sixtynine percent humidity. i got a promotion at work. i dated someone who broke my heart; we both didn't tell the whole truth but i ended it because i didn't demand love or respect. one of my dear friends got misdiagnosed with a terminal illness. i ran another marathon and pr'd by an hour. my dad got sick- the kind of sick where you spend time reflecting on the time you might have left together. i said no to keeping connections with people who increased my anxiety. i went to alaska and fell in love with my niece and nephews all over again. i started working a lot. my mft hours got approved. i thought a lot about forgiveness and how it looks. i started therapy again.

i don't know if it's this year in particular or if it's every year as i get older, but wow, this last birthday cycle has been full of extreme feelings.

thankfully, though, i learned some stuff.

the most helpful decision i made in the last four seasons was to ask for help... to admit that i can't do it all, to admit that i am wrong, to admit that i wasn't honest, to admit that my heart is a little bit black. and in my practically pleading for help- what i perceived to be weakness in asking for it was actually brave and courageous and completely humiliating in the most beautiful way. you see, asking for help does not come easy for me... in fact, i don't often do it. somewhere along the way i became a yesperson who believed they could do it all while holding it all together. this year has been about taking risks and looking beyond my own selfishness and asking for what i needed-- knowing full well that the person on the receiving end of my question had their own freedom to not give me what i was asking for.

and though it's been rough around here, it's been the most beautiful and transformative process i've ever lived through. daily i'm saying yes to making peace with not getting what i want(ed), not denying my grief and taking responsibility all over again for my actions. my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude. this life i live is pretty amazing; i am honored- this is my year.

happy birthday, self.

i didn't think i would cry.

last night i gathered thirteen people in the same room to fill their bellies with some of my favorite foods and taste wines that are beyond my sophistication. they believed they were there to celebrate my upcoming birthday, but they were actually there because i wanted to celebrate them- some of them my best friends, some of them people i see often and share life with in the same community- they all have something in common: they live in san francisco and have shown up in extraordinary ways in the last threehundred and sixtythree days.

i have moments i want to hold onto, moments i want to remember, and one occurred last night: the part where i started to cry as i became overwhelmed with gratitude- right there in the middle of the restaurant full of forty other people. i didn't expect the clementine-in-my-throat/pause-to-collect-myself physical reaction, but as i reflected on this past year, i couldn't help it... the highest highs and lowest lows life-to-date (is that a phrase? i figure you can replace year with life?) flashed in my mind and the people sitting around the table were all in one place. it was absolutely perfect.

recent things that have made me smile.

josh reported that levi has nine teeth all day (common phrase to describe the total amount of a particular dish needing to be prepared by a chef).

the dpd is expanding! the show will go from short to long coming in at around sixty minutes, an increase from the current eighteen minute average. excellent.

facetiming with m.j. who surprised us all with his arrival.

the k&e joint birthday celebration/house party was off the hook.

the september sixth radio lab shorts about tic tac toe was awesome. and hearing malcolm gladwell talk about the overdog made me laugh out loud on the recent games episode.

spontaneous music sessions in preparation for goal two of three (more to come on this topic).

family.

love.

when i grow up and turn sixtyfive.

mim: a woman with short grey hair who drinks assam golden tip tea every thursday morning at eight sixteen, right after she's just cleaned three bathrooms. she tries to coax me, the youngest, into helping... i play it off like it's more important to have me sweep. "i love sweeping, mim. i do it with style."

she's sixtyfive in a few weeks and i'm jealous of the woman she's become; her convictions are strong and her presence is gentle. she draws a self portrait every night before bed and she swears she's been doing yoga since before there were yoga mats. she's an avid birder and loves to car camp. she is rational and passionate and lives out her beliefs. she cares about us, deeply.

i'd be really proud if i could be like mim at sixtyfive.

i've got much to tell you.

breakups and heart aches and friends in love. flings and popcorn and nineteen seventysix hanzell pinot noir. seventy hour work weeks and ninth grade girls. blackberry chocolate cake with mascarpone frosting and spiked slurpees and fresh flowers and grocery shopping on sunday morning. a martin's artist work displayed and sunny september san francisco days. naming twins and late night and early morning texts.

i'm moving into a really fresh place and i can't wait to tell you about it. i didn't lie when i said this was my year... the highest highs and the lowest lows, hands down.

part two: officially done.

on the last day of my masters program my favorite adjunct professor said, "congratulations, you've officially finished one third of the process to becoming a licensed marriage and family therapist." in my head i thought, "one third? try one half!" i thought the equation was one half masters program + one half everything else.

turns out he was right: one third masters program + one third supervised hours (three thousand) + one third taking and passing the boards = one marriage and family therapist.

after waiting one hundred and sixtynine days for my hours to be approved, i received my "congratulations you can now take your boards" letter in the mail today. it's official. it's time to replace marathon training with studying. or i could just take them blind and cross my fingers that i've learned something since my program ended?

i'll let you know when i pass. in the mean time, i'll be at matching half studying (in all my spare time).

i love southern california adventures.

i spent the weekend in santa barbara and newport beach and it reminded me of how much things and people have changed. well, not so much things as much as people- especially me. the weekend included sunshine and baby room decorating and go-fish and bridesmaid dresses and the best server who wanted to keep my water glass full and long car rides and lots of books and all you can eat sushi and tears and homemade pizza with lots of wine and laughing... a lot of laughing.

for you, the one who is cold.

we will hold you
a little bit closer tonight.

we will close our eyes
and think of your heart break.

we will make attempts
to balance our anger with grace.

we will shed a tear with you,
pleading for peace.

we will tell you we're proud,
you're present and in it.

we will hold your hands
and warm you up.

we will love you.

unknown.

who is responsible for this hands-shaped-heart billboard? i've seen it in three different locations in san francisco. there is no sponsor or words.

the first run in twentyfive days.

it's today. there's nothing i've been looking forward to more. my subluxed cuboid [bone] was "put back in place" by my physical therapist and i've [finally] been cleared to run. note to the world: don't let your cuboid get subluxed; the process of putting it back is absolutely dreadful.

to the doctor who told me nothing was wrong: this run is for you.

jcrew catalogs and phone dates, completely unrelated.

let's start with part of an email a few of us received which included a rant about phone dates and made me spit out my water:

"Because the phrase "phone date" isn't cute.... or clever. Because the time you spend talking about your "phone date" and planning and scheduling your "phone date" via gchat, or someones facebook wall, you could have just picked up the damn phone and either REACHED that person or left a voicemail... (insert rant about sometimes technology makes everything hard and humans are dumb) But instead everyone's running around talking about maybe talking at some point which is really a disguise for, 'I don't really have time for this friendship, but I'm compulsive and feel guilty and at least if I talk about talking to you I won't feel so bad about not being to keep up a relationship with my 800 friends on facebook.' the end."


let's end with a shallow announcement from me: i love jcrew catalog day. every time it arrives, i rush to my phone, only to call leanne.

me: have you been home yet? it came today.
leanne: i love that catalog. i wish i lived in one. they look like they're having so much fun.

hats off to you, jcrew, for giving leanne and me so much joy. and for selling the shoes i've been looking for for the last three years. you can have my money. all of it.

growing older.

it's been ten days since i ran a marathon.

there's something magical that happens when i know what to expect: the pounding on the pavement mile after mile, the hills i've run before, the trees of the presidio, the big orange bridge against the dark grey sky... all of it. it's the intensity of what my body can do when i push myself, when i get motivated, when i say a little prayer and remind myself that i will run and not grow weary.

i don't know why i started running these marathons (whoa! plural!). that's not true, i know exactly why: i prepared for both marathons when i wanted to put myself into Forward Motion; to move out of a rut and into something beautiful. to force myself to work against my odds.

i started training for the san francisco back at the end of february and didn't advertise it (unlike me)... it was the foreshadowing of my reality that i would soon be hurting; an active effort to take care of myself. when i ran twentyfour a month before the race, i decided it was time to officially sign up, as well as ask some important people what i needed: their support throughout the course.

to the nineteen of you who showed up- abbey, mark, lauren, nathan, julie, adam, mom, frank, diane, kim, bonnie, kate, bill, kimberly, leanne, laurel, kristy, alex, jess and kyle, i absolutely could not have run the race if i didn't have your face to look forward to. the cheering and signs and team em shirts and running along side me; it's the only way i was able to finish. i took a risk and asked for what i needed and you showed up. thank you.

people tell me they're super impressed and they could "never do it." i generally don't think any of that's true. i think they just don't want to do it. the race itself is not [as] hard [as one would think], it's the five months of dedication and focus that's difficult. and honestly, i think anything is possible if you're not doing it alone.

i'm pleased with the length of time it took me to finish the race, the way my body has mostly recovered (minus the xray and possible stress fracture) and the satisfaction i have with completing another, knowing it wasn't a fluke thing in december and that i can actually do it again and again if i want to. overall, this race was a hugely positive experience.

...pressing in, pressing on. preparing for toronto as a guide!

to know me is to know i get song lyrics wrong. all the time.

and when that happens, i'll confidently make up the lyrics. [and sometimes i get caught.]

i had the recent realization that it's not "everybody plays the flute" and it's actually "everybody plays the fool" by aaron neville. all these years...

and i think this is similar to my life: sometimes if i'm getting it wrong, i'll confidently pretend like i'm getting it right. [until i get caught.] i'm all about faking it til i make it, for now, at least.

i'm going to go play the flute.

some of them look like they belong in a dr. seuss book.

the dahlias are in full bloom at golden gate park.

go, have a peak.

the last run before the run.

it was today and it was short. despite having a head cold and needing to talk myself into not stopping to walk, i did it: i made it to the end of marathon training. in some ways, this day's run is more monumental than the run... in some ways not. but making it to the end of anything always feels nice, i think. i am glad to be at the end, to be able to look back regardless of how sunday goes, and remember that one day i'll be able to get back here. one day.

i will run and not grow weary.

a little inspiration for you.

my cousin lost his vision in november... and he's decided to run a race. go figure.

read about his radness here.

a little bit, a little bit.

abbey's been telling me lately i'm going to lose it... break... crash and burn. she doesn't use those words; instead she gives me a look that screams you're doing too much. i roll my eyes and take a bite of our weekly shared bean and cheese burrito where the waitress asks us if we're having our usual. i'm fine.

truth be told, i've really been fine up to this point... the tasks, the hours, the action steps, the errands, the goals, all of it: i've been fine.

but i'm a little bit fragile, i realized yesterday. i'm just not okay with aging parents and sick parents and hospitals. and my mind races a little bit and my stomach aches and i get a little bit loopy. so i decided that everything you're going to get out of me will be good enough. take it or leave it.

good enough dinners.
good enough marathon-ing.
good enough pie.
good enough letter writing.
good enough professional-bus-girling.
good enough supervising.
good enough listening.
good enough field trips.
good enough hair.
good enough sleep.
good enough love.

not letting go.

i do this because you're in need.
i do this because i have the skills, the resources.
i do this because i want to.
i do this because you let me in.
i do this because it's fascinating, you and all your stuff.
i do this because you said it's helping.
i do this because there's a good God.
i do this because i believe in forgiveness and redemption.

and i will keep doing this: showing up. making sure you eat. listening and asking questions. crying a little bit when i leave. hoping.

this is what i was made for.

this dust is shaking.

there are few things in life i enjoy more than spoken word poetry...



thanks, katie.

today we laughed together.

oh, it's been so long; my heart was a bit warm when we were done. of course, it was only the type of laughter we get to do because professionalisms and appropriateness is vital ninetysix percent of the time.

the excitement of this month is brewing: much hard work will culminate into a continued awe of my Design.

pressing in, pressing on.

good friends, good family, good sunburn.

everyone should have an adult themed piñata on their birthday.
it's even better when shaped as a baby seal.




























everyone should also play with sparklers on the fourth of july.
it's even better when on the seventh hole.

places to go in the second half of twothousand eleven.

alaska.
santa barbara.
new york city.
huntington beach.
oceanside.
chicago.
santa cruz.
portland.

why not, right?

disappearing act.

june twelfth to the twentyseventh have been awful; something is wrong with you and our communication went from sixty to zero within the moment you received that call. in this time i've found it hard to digest all of my food and when running long distances and wanting to quit, i'd remind myself that you probably can't run right now and for that reason alone, i couldn't quit. you love running.

but to my joy, your disappearing act ended today. and i'm quickly reminded that my doer-in-times-of-crisis personality isn't what you need, or even what i need. in fact, i should probably invest in new ways to cope... something about sitting in the pain and feeling what i'm really feeling. or making peace with the unknown. and letting your story be your story, not mine.

ready when you are. no more disappearing, please.

sevenhundred and thirty days.

today was my two year anniversary at work. holy crap i've been to hell and back... personally, professionally and everything in between. i'm happy to say, however, that i wouldn't trade these last two years for anything. there's something about giving your all and loving the work that makes it worth it.

here's to the four of us who've made it together: cheers.

i bet you're having panic attacks.

i would be, if i knew what you knew.
we miss you. come back to the pentagon where decisions are made.

i believe my heart is a puzzle.
each piece is in the shape of someone near and dear.
the dearer you are, the bigger the piece.

here's how this puzzle is different, though:
when a piece gets lost
all the pieces still fit together
to create an entire puzzle.
they just need to rearrange their edges,
a little bit with time.
some pieces grow and some shrink.
but it always seems to take shape.

and this is my reality:
i am surprised by how small
some of you puzzle pieces actually are,
compared to what i believed you to be.

pressing in, pressing on.
[by turning grief into a money maker...
which eventually just becomes a money maker]

i'm wearing turquoise for you.

for you who are in mourning.
for you who are sick.
for you who continues to hold the weight of the world.

and for you, the one who resides in boston:
hold onto your one ounce of courage.
it will get you through this day,
and tomorrow, especially.

and for you, little one who went to sleep tonight.
bless your mother as she will lose hope in this world
and grandmother as she will not understand.
i am sorry it ended this way.

i am here and i'll have a cup of tea with you.
i have no words but i am here.
i will keep providing an unconditional care,
the kind that only knows yes.

pressing in, pressing on.

thoughts on growing up.

over the years i thought i'd figured out what it meant to be a "grown up"; something about paying my own bills and having a salaried position. and then i was unpleasantly welcomed into last week where i realized i actually had no idea what it meant to be an adult, a real life grown up.

i'm realizing that being a grown up is determined by experiences like babies and sickness and depression and heart ache and death. life is taking me to a place where i have to respond to these things and i keep experiencing resistance; a soft voice inside whines, "but i don't want to grow up. it's tiring to show up for these things."

i don't remember growing pains as a teenager and i never thought i'd experience them in my twenties. but damn, this hurts like hell. i'll continue to quiet that small voice and keep pressing in, pressing on.

the pie making waitress.

you, with the broken heart.
i see you: the bags under your eyes
representing all of your learning.
when i look at you
i hear feist's voice:
"the saddest part of a broken heart
isn't the ending so much as the start."
and isn't that the truth?

you, with the broken heart.
your resilience and grace continue to amaze me.
fighting for something you believe in
even though the fear outweighs the sadness
and your introspection becomes a great task.

you, with the broken heart.
the uncertainty and tension of your next steps
will actually be what moves you along.
don't spend time in the "what if"
or even blaming yourself.
instead, own your courage.

you, with the broken heart:
you are not alone.

[love you, love your show]

.hello.goodbye.

hello lemon bars.
goodbye smokey oven smell.
hello green pea soup.
goodbye favorite work friend.
hello assertive communication.
goodbye david's attitude.
hello long runs.
goodbye blisters.
hello rain.

when did it become june?

when did i start learning about grape varietals, vintage variation and appellations?
when did i become the point person for angry parents?
when did your saturday nights open up for me?
when did waking up at five become normal?
when did i become obsessed with the dinner party download?
when did anxiety start to trump logic?
when did i draw my line in the sand?

it became june five days ago.

wisdom for the week.

decreasing toxicity includes asking really hard questions and just saying no to drama. and, most likely, running for long periods of time.

things i've loved (and want to remember) about the last seven days:
my uncle approving my choices and listening to my food recommendations.
hearing the truckee bar tender ask me if i like to get things done.
the text that said, "i'm a fly trap for freaks"
erin's potato bread infused with ramps.
connecting the many dots of permanency at work.
hearing wimberly say, "i've been dreaming about my bachelorette fashion show for years!"
my first bite of duck. (quack)
receiving a small piece of mail with a big question from my best friend.
taking two steps forward and no steps back.

"i bought my girl a jacket!"

i'm reminded of the love i have for my kitchen and dining room when i host friends to eat. i put together a fennel and arugula salad, pappardelle with spiced butter dish, and a chocolate cake with blackberries and mascarpone cream. a few glasses of wine later and my belly is satisfied as i reflect on the preciousness of j, m, and l; their compassion and drive encourage me to do better, be better, and see better. especially as we reflected on our war wounds and would-you-give-it-back-slash-leave-a-note-slash-return-it stories. or would you just buy your girl a jacket? either way, at the end of the day, i am satisfied.

reinventing mondays.

the goal: start the week off right, even though it's the most tiring day of them all.

the tasks: dress up a little bit more than normal (this can involve wearing a dress or curling one's hair. perhaps, even a tie?) and bring in baked goods for co-workers. also, write one hand written thank you note.

the recipe: for a successful week. boom.

looking forward to our friendship.

you, with those big brown eyes.
the way the crows feet surround them,
i look at you and feel the sadness;
the weight of how much you hold:
your family, your love, your desire to change this world.

you cause me to come home
and swallow three chocolate chip cookies.
the ones you would have eaten
if you weren't afraid of what's up my stairs.
the ones you would have eaten
if we didn't already spend so much time together.
the ones you would have eaten
if you weren't debilitated by the idea of poison.

your presence urges me to read more;
to listen to the words and understand the history.
to invest in word play and expand my skills.
your intuition is astounding and overwhelming, too.

and when i'm around you i feel safe.
safe to tell you the dark secret
about bin laden's death without judgment.
safe to tell you the bright secret
about my relationship with the inanimate objects in my house:
cupcakes and clothes, they don't actually talk back.

ultimately, though, it's your wisdom.
i am absolutely and positively attracted to your experiences
and the way you interpret them.
and i'm reminded of them,
every time i see the crows feet around your eyes.

it's going to be a good year:
i'll continue to listen
as you continue to share.

on this eleven hundredth post.

all i have to say is: don't break another wine glass. remember to take big deep breaths. and smiling is good, too.

grateful in these days.

for the link sent to me by michele: it's changing my life every day.
for quinoa salad with the redhead who has a frozen face.
for unpacking and color coding her closet, reminding her she's not in walnut creek anymore.
for unexpectedly attending dave chappelle.
for humboldt fog's cypress grove goat cheese.
for losing my voice on a roller coaster.
for the ears of the bearded southern california boy who is becoming a man.
for my constant laughter rather than tears.
for every single text from my favorite thirteen year old.
for all fourteen days that my manicure lasts.
for the wise words and support from my favorite ocd friend. especially regarding death and bin laden.
for my unfortunate timing which forces constant focus on forgiveness.
for my legs. and my running shoes.
for my will and desire to not give up. on me.

have you ever tried to enter the long black branches?

by mary oliver:

listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?
while the soul, after all, is only a window,
and the opening of the window no more difficult
than the wakening from a little sleep

i climb, i backtrack.
i float.
i ramble my way home.

entire poem here.

my window has no offices.

i wrote that in an email today. awesome.

currently:

i'm about to learn a lot about wine and run my ass off, again.

i'm focusing on the small moments and the victories.

[these next three months will be life changing.]

this is my year, this is my most courageous year.

i'm not hiding, avoiding or evading.

i'm telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

i'm asking for what i need and what i want.

and most importantly, i am loving well.

there's no more time to waste.

things no one likes to hear you whine about in a nonchalant way.

your weight and your money. let's be real, people: it only makes the listener feel awkward. what are we really supposed to respond in those moments? "it will get better!" or "this too shall pass." WHAT? no.

so cut. it. out. just like stephanie tanner would say. (side note: i googled stephanie tanner to include a photo. umm, the full house brat got herself a boob job and a meth addiction. yikes! a lot has changed since the days of t.g.i.f.)

four years in a row: easter in yosemite.

and this year stuck out for a number of reasons, but at the top of them is my ten and a half mile run with mary ramsey on the valley floor. it made everything worth it and reminded me of my courage, strength and God's goodness.

she turned my favorite number.

yesterday was cait's birthday. we sat and ate delicious pizza and a strawberry rhubarb jam with almond butter cake. it was marvelous.

there's something about this petite woman who owns big brown eyes; her kindness and intelligence make me a better person. she reminds me about wisdom and graciousness and amazes me when she dedicates her birthday to being a win-win year.

why not? why not live life more fearlessly, we ask each other often. why not.

two odd moments made my day yesterday.

one. the dellusional man at martin's who said, "i can't eat this oatmeal because there's aids scabs and blood in there." sometimes you just have to cock your head and smile. it was a bad image but a tender moment as i continued to finish my bowl. it was a jarring reminder that mental health is some serious business.

two. the nurse walking by my house, "um... excuse me? ma'am! did you just parallel park in that spot?" (it was between a scooter and a car with six inches on each side. in the least humble way, i responded, "yes! it's my spiritual gift. have a good day!"

i get to this blog.

and my mind is blank. my fingers don't know which key to hit next and i remember that the exhaustion of this weekend will soon catch up with me.

one day at a time: writing and listening and studying and loving and living in the most fearless way i know how.

can't waste.

what i want to worry about, i can't: there's not enough time in the day to waste. instead i am listening to "fix you" on repeat as i sleep tonight because it reminds me of the simplicity of life and the importance of perspective. being present and saying something is more important than saying nothing. i am here.

coldplay's fix you:

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down on your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down on your face
And I...

Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down on your face
And I...

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

for the record.

i am not in a state of depression as my last post may have alluded. yes, it's a dark poem but wendell makes my nights better and that particular poem brought a small amount of peace to my heart with all the happenings of my favorite seventeen year old family member. and regarding that situation: there's no way to help, no way to ease any anxiety- my own or others'. instead i am choosing to let go as it's not in the realm of my control. and i will listen first and then say something second.

this weekend included lunch and dressing with a woman who puts four lemons in her iced tea, a six mile run, one extravaganza including flamenco dancers, fancy dresses, pistachios, hazelnuts and the most straight-shooting-girl-talk i've had in a while, a karaoke celebration which ended with delicious milkshakes, one sit down dinner party for thirtyone, lunch with my favorite eighth graders, one third of build your own damn house / errands with the most honest risk taker i know, and a small conversation which reminded me of her wisdom and why she is the best question asker ever.

it's these moments, this collection of things i say yes to, that make a lot of unimportant stuff fall to the side. in the end, my heart is warmed when thinking about the time we turned down the country music and you looked me in the eyes and said, "em. let's live life more fearlessly."

thank you for the love.

to know the dark.

by wendell berry:

to go in the dark with a light is to know the light.

to know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,

and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

this poem hits close to home right now, in the most literal sense.

[ache]

it's time.

for a little vacation from life... just a short one where someone else drives the bmw and i get to be a passenger and not think about my cousin or my job or my friends episode. i will bring j's indian book and ski down the mountain, practicing deep breathing and remembering to laugh and exercise all appropriate silliness.

and back to work on friday i'll go.

for lent.

i'm giving up kidding myself.

consumed.

"...on that morning, the sun rose and bloomed like blood in a glass syringe." (76) from the toughest indian in the world by sherman alexie.

sometimes i feel like it's that morning. when i'm consumed and my mind tumbles about with anxiety. i often stop myself and intentionally ask, "how did i get to this place?" and i trace back how each thought led to the next. how each step got me here and how each finger tip, knowingly, went there.

what would life be like without my questions? with an authentic nonchalant-attitude? what would it be like if i really didn't care?

even the above questions get me nowhere.

in the mean time, i will calm my head and my heart by listening to the head and the heart's song lost in my mind. how appropriate, cait.

there's something about.

gelish nail polish. even with invisalign, it looks fresh for days.

other peoples' medical appointments that cause my heart to palpitate, my head to get light and my face to heat up. difficult, but i was glad to be there.

the whole foods (aka whole paycheck) three blocks from our house.

ellie goulding's covers. all of them: sweet disposition, the wolves, sleepyhead, only girl.

pillow talk.

pinot noir with pastaless lasagna and homemade whoopie pies that taste oh-so-good.

the anticipation of the weekend with chris and hope.

today is march first.

and i woke up this morning, took a deep breath, and was grateful for a tiny little soul living in southern california. my precious nephew, asher, will forever be a katz.

this life is fragile and demanding and some people have what it takes to love and launch a life into this scary place that we call the world. my gratitude is overflowing in this moment... the one where i finished applying mascara with the need to reapply because i began to cry thinking about carter and courtney's beautiful journey of faithfulness and perseverance in the process of growing their family.

love.

appreciating the simple moments.

like when i travel to santa barbara to celebrate becky's singleness coming to a close. not a dry in the house; she's a beautiful example of one who loves well. or getting less than thirty minutes with the jordans; speed updates and an uneven trade for boots the dog. and hugging someone in the midst of her grief, celebrating a life gone for six months; reminding her that she's not alone. exchanging stories with laura over cheap sushi and peel-less oranges. figuring out if the salty dog chocolate treat is for dogs or humans. and listening to lana eloquently love me, reminding me of who i am and who i get to become.

this week is absolutely out of control; i'm grateful for these moments in the midst of being paralyzed by my overwhelm.

i wonder where your prego jar is.

every thursday morning john would walk in with his prego jar- he'd drop it off to get washed and it'd get passed to me; i'd fill it up and pass it back to him. he'd hold the lid and no matter what the consistency or temperature or age of the oatmeal, john never complained.

my dear friend peter was a bit off during our morning shift yesterday. he said something like, "we come here week after week and serve and laugh and tease each other and drink tea after cleaning the bathrooms. we do it so often that it's become routine. we've become numb to the reality that it's really cold outside today. and it's raining. and there's a lot of Crazy around here. and deep, deep brokenness. and things aren't right because john is gone."

i found out john died of cancer right before the new year. john had snow colored hair and tan leathery skin from his many cigarettes. and he had a soothing voice, so quiet. always pleasant, even in the last days that i saw him, limping from one end of the room to the other.

it's hard to shake this sense of sadness.

when in doubt.

love well.

i've been holding this concept close to my heart more recently. fighting hard and not quitting, demanding respect and care from all, giving a little bit more to each of my relationships.

i think loving well includes, but is not limited to:
talking, even if it means saying, "i'm not in the mood to share."
staying up to hear the details because they're excited to share.
writing that email, the one that says you can do it, i believe in you.
remembering to ask about the details.
helping those who don't ask for help.
everything from romans twelve, nine through twentyone.
listening to the compliment and owning it.
trusting the words, the process and your gut.
showing up three years in a row: consistency.
learning what you need.

patty says:
"if you break down
i'll drive out and find you
if you forget my love
i'll try to remind you
and stay by you when it don't come easy"

this morning i woke up with "eye of the tiger" in my head.

that was a fun/ny experience.

busy with rain and supervising and writing and surfwatching and running and not gushing and taking really deep breaths.

chuck quoted this four days ago.

from mumford and sons:

Love it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be
There is a design, an alignment, a cry
Of my heart to see,
The beauty of love as it was made to be

and i liked it.


[photo from wine night. reminded me of love.]

today it was seventyfive degrees. in february.

sometimes you have these life moments where everything feels right on the inside but off to those on the outside; it usually means you get an "are you alright?" text.

yes, i am okay. even though i'm in the middle of asking hard questions to the ones who know me and support me and want what's good for me, everything feels right. my best friend in the entire world, the one who has never judged and always loved, fell in love with someone and now she has a ring on her finger. and then faith hill came on the radio and every high school memory of loving country music with that best friend came fading back and the tears welled up as i wrapped asher's present and my nails were freshly painted (you-don't-know-jaques-suede!) and a martin's potluck was had and an accidental conversation with starchild occurred.

i'm alright. not sure what i did that made you ask, but yes, everything is okay.

i was going to end here. but i have more to write, more to remember.

the voice inside my head said, "emily. everything is more than okay." and i responded: "that's true; i have a lot of joy." abbey reminds me to "just let it happen and be in the moment." i scream to kyle and he laughs at me, every time. and kimberly and i witnessed some of the best singing and video-ing dan and diane have to offer. i'm loving my job transition and i have a new nephew and i have money to pay for the dry cleaning i need to get done. i have a bit of knee pain but i know how to manage and strengthen. i'm almost done wearing braces and the little people in my life call me aunty em. i'm actively investing into friendships that are life giving. i'm more than loving my family, i'm liking them. i'm exercising my better self, and that sometimes means i get the above text, and that's okay, too.

the sun was shining in san francisco and this kid is alright.

things said to me recently.

"i've got a cat that can sneeze louder than you."
"emily, you look like you've lost fifty pounds." [wasn't sure how to respond to that one.]
"are you sure they're giving you the promotion?"
"is it really your nephew if he's not related to you?" [courtney, deep breath. i know, i know.]

couldn't help but tilt my head and smile. grace, grace for all.

"i prayed over every pair of your underwear!"

while hiking this weekend i was let in on a little bit of a secret-- my mother, the super spiritual woman that she is, loves to fold laundry. loves loves loves it. i think it's the repetitive nature? anyway, she revealed that when she'd fold our family's laundry, she'd pray over every pair of our underwear. [WHAT? get out. every pair.]

i don't know what she was praying for and i don't know if the prayers were answered, but this information melted my heart just a little bit. not sure if it's the endearing prayers of my mother or thinking of my now nephews/niece and my brothers' marriages. regardless, it made me happy and i want to remember it.

i've been having these moments of joy recently.

they've included:
-re-watching some of the videos didi and i made during the marathon weekend.
-drinking wine, by myself, in part celebrating what's to come and in part finishing the day's work.
-burning my forearm while baking bread; scar number four. hurt so bad but a good reminder of how bread tastes so delicious.
-goldfish kisses and deep breaths.
-facetiming with c&c and asher, teary eyed and laughing because being part of a family defines itself, regardless of whose womb we exit.
-dinner parties with spinach and zucchini soup, swedish green peppercorn chicken, roasted asparagus and twice baked sweet potatoes.
-law and order svu on instant netflix in an empty house.
-my secret labor of love that is no where near to being finished. (a special package coming to one of you!)

i left my heart in yountville.

you know, the place where french laundry lives and the place where i got to spend the weekend with one of my best friends to celebrate sixty years of life well lived.

in the middle of dinner i turned to julie and had this wild realization, one that is so obvious but caused so much tension in my heart- something so difficult mixed with so much joy- without the accident, the one that took place on august ninth, nineteen seventysix, you wouldn't be here? i asked. i looked around at the eighteen women who were there in celebration and could only hope that my life would be as faithful as lauren's.

drinking the kool-aid.

i'm currently in two eight month intensive trainings; one focusing on trauma for kids aged zero to five and one focused on family therapy... i get to do therapy behind a one-way mirror for some of these trainings and last night was my green light! i almost puked.

it's hard to explain, the feeling of sitting in the therapist's chair, while everyone else is watching you. specifically, they were crying and so was the family i was working with. i, on the other hand, felt nothing... numb. so focused on my every word, every reaction. helping them to heal.

and i had this moment... this realization and pause of clarity as i witnessed healing and helped to facilitate redemption... as much as i was anxious and unsure of my own capabilities, i got to be part of holding a family's pain and joy; their process, not so much their content.

we see abuse and we run. we see addiction and we run. we see mental health diagnosis and we run. cps! cps! it's unsafe here. but, (and this is where i drink PP's kool-aid) what about family? what about the bond that no one can break, regardless of whose roof is over their heads? how do we facilitate change within families, rather than increase the separation? these questions beg my attention.

i came home super late and i poured myself a glass of wine and sat on the small couch by the windows, the one in the shadows. twentysix minutes passed before i had a human interaction. later i was called down the hall and learned a little bit more about emotional safety, the kind where you don't need words, only the space to just be.

grateful.

night mantra.

ever since i finished
facetiming with my
precious nephew, three
day old asher, "night
mantra" by renee and
jeremy has been stuck
in my head. the lyrics
are so simple and perfect:

I will be your home
I will be your guide
I will be your friend
Always on your side
Sleep now in your room
Quiet of the night
Surrounded by the moon
'Till you see the light

the journey by mary oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

"i love looking at everyone and seeing them all smile."

the highlights of the first sugar shack adventure of twothousand eleven:

filming maggie get down the mountain.

deep and honest heartfelt tears on the steps with julie.

sauna-ing with the ladies.

the dp with blinking jelly rings. the best rave in sugar bowl?

the sink in the sauna bathroom.

meg acting out mien kampf.

sharing about forgiveness.

a morning walk with cait.

eye brow surgery from laura.

sheep's milk ricotta and lamb crepes.

snowball fight down judah with the roommates.

olive oil cake with grapefruit frosting.

snowgaritas.

surprise mlk quotes from dan.

cooking with liz and maggie.

an escape from the city with more memories made. so grateful.

one of my passions: permanency work.

yes, i'm a therapist. yes, i work in the social welfare field. and yes, i generally can't talk that much about my job. but! when the thing related to my work that i'm the most passionate about it makes it on the radio, i get pretty excited.

kids who are removed from their homes often lose touch with their families. i've been in countless meetings to talk about kids' behavior and how "we" will "help" with "this" by using that "intervention." but the reality is this: connections to family and people who know you have the strongest outcomes i've ever witnessed. it also makes the most sense. it's the part of my job that keeps me up at night, wakes me up in the morning and reminds me about my vocation.

here is an interview with two of my co-workers and a child who was reunited with his family recently.



ps. i was also interviewed for this story but didn't make the cut as the work i was doing didn't have the happiest ending. bummer.

musically challenged?

then check this out. you just might hear something new. and something good, something real good.

the love and hard work of pressplayfor.me is courtesy of rdm.

i learned how to do a rubix cube.

algorithm after algorithm, i couldn't do it by myself without my favorite junior's hand holding. nevertheless, there's something so valuable about leaving the city behind and having a one to one ratio. i love getting to ski with high schoolers and middle schoolers; it's nice to not have burning-thigh-syndrome because of the stop-and-go of making sure everyone made it safely down the mountain.

i walked into the weekend heavy but left with gratitude. i love who these kids are becoming- they remind me of how silly i was and how far i've come.

messy.

even though this is my year, i must remember that i am not immune from really crappy days. yes, even six days into the new year.

it was nothing anyone said or did; there wasn't anything specific. it was just a reminder of one of my core beliefs and some of the reasons i make certain decisions. and the thought of this idea, the one that dictates so many of my relational decisions, makes me want to crawl into a black hole.

so i did! i went into my black hole and while i was there, i walked to my car and found a nice flat tire. and later i bumped my head pretty hard on the corner of my nightstand. and after that i made a delicious tortilla chicken soup, chocolate chip cookies, and a regrettable decision, which reminded me that i'm a mess. and that i'm a self-deprecator and that i have a whole host of issues that i have to face. because you can't just ignore things or push them to the side when this is your year: you have to face the truth about who you are and who you want to become and who you're not and who you'll never be.

good thing this life isn't a dichotomy of black or white, but rather a rainbow with more shades of hazel colored eyes than i can count.

lazy daze, crazy nights.

we spent new year's weekend at camp osborn [there's nothing like departing and arriving to lax in a moho]. there's no other way i would've wanted to start two thousand and eleven; incredible people being together was enough-- no need to do anything in particular. it was the perfect vacation; the kind where you don't care where your phone is because the people you're with are the ones who you'd want to call.

thank you for inviting me; i'm glad i said yes.

hello, 2011.

again, no resolutions.

just a realization that

this year is going to be different,

because this is my year.

i'm ready to give again,

everything i've got.
personally or professionally...
i'm in it to win it.

no excuses.