mamaw's derby pie.

when walking around the bart station with a homemade pie, it's hard for people not to smile. they stare, too, but they mostly smile. it seems that a young woman carrying a derby pie on a late thursday afternoon invites strangers to sit nearer and ask questions: where are you going? fresh pie, my favorite... who are the lucky recipients? the kids across from me who are eating chips ahoy original chocolate chip cookies are jealous- they haven't had an unprocessed sweet treat in years. in fact, they report they've never had a slice of homemade pie.

and it made me think about how the art of using my hands in the kitchen has been suspended in practice as of late. what a shame. there is so much joy, so much conversation, that comes from the beauty of baking... sweet or savory, it doesn't matter. creaming butter and sugar and adding bourbon and walnuts and chocolate chips to create someone else's mamaw's derby pie... it is so worth it, even if it doesn't turn out just "right." because it meant i received one-more-than-normal smile.

sometimes i crave this stranger's smile as it quickly reminds me of human existence.

hey ma.

a haiku for my mother, on her fiftyfifth birthday:

your wisdom and strength
reveal themselves in your eyes,
love is in your touch.

the quest for love.

i went on a hunt this week to determine what love means. when things aren’t linear or black and white for me, or if i don’t understand something or it gives me anxiety, i externally process and ask lots of people what they think about a topic. this week it was love.

i thought the questions i asked were simple: what did it look like when you fell in love? what does it mean for you to love? how did you know you first loved your person?

some responses i received:
it was a feeling in the beginning but now it just is.
love is getting up in the middle of the night when you're warm in your bed to get your partner a cup of cold water.
i knew i loved her because when we weren’t together, i wanted to be with her.
why don’t you try reading c. s. lewis’ the four loves?
a co-worker said, “i heard first corinthians has a good list.”
a better question is not whether you love your person, but whether you respect your person.
loving is a choice.
bask in this shit, because new love is so epic and it has an expiration date.
dude, you're over thinking this.
i missed him when we weren't together.
i just knew.

you should know that only some of these answers were satisfying. ultimately i was looking for a prescription and no one could offer me that. it was highly disappointing.

but a dear friend who knows me so well wrote this: emily, this isn't a question of loving your person, this is about receiving love and allowing yourself to [sit in your anxiety and drama and] be loved.

i re-read her words a few times. i took a deep breath and was able to let go of the responses i'd collected from the week. she was right; my quest for love hasn't actually been about my love for another. instead, this is about whether or not i'll allow myself to be loved by another... to work hard enough to believe that i am lovable. will i take this risk, stop asking what you think, listen to myself and swim face to the sky?

i can. and i will.

last night i had dinner with my friend rusty.

i hope when i'm eighty i'm as vibrant and beautiful as she. we found ourselves sharing ideas about love and grace, and the concept of time as my friend. i kid myself as i write 'sharing ideas'-- rusty amused me and listened to my young thoughts, rambling on about redemption and life coming full circle. of course i listened intently and held on to her every word; as she spoke i could imagine Wisdom coming through the lines in her face, her crooked little fingers and white hair. God lives in rusty.

i hope when i'm eighty i'll have read more poetry and slowed down enough to memorize some. i'd like to be able to sit with a person and recite one as it relates to the conversation at hand. rusty shared with me this poem about grace... it was so fitting.

As swimmers dare to swim face to the sky
and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to freefall and float
into Creator Spirit's deep embrace
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.
-Denise Levertov

i hope when i'm eighty i have house guests and visitors and the ability to parallel park in the city and a desire to break bread with someone one third my age. i hope i still travel and i hope i still vote. i hope i have faith as beautiful as rusty's and i hope God still lives in me. i hope.

a corrective emotional experience.

this weekend i am going to have what we in the therapy world refer to as a corrective emotional experience.

last year at this time i attended (and coordinated!) a wedding. i remember asking lisa to meet me in the bathroom for a pep talk; i cried and whined and didn't want to do what i needed to do but she was a gem and probably said something great and recommended i lean on my liquid courage. after the wedding ended, i endured the longest and most tearful drive back to san francisco. hope tortured my heart and anxiety consumed my mind. i didn't want to go home. the next few days were a blur filled with more disappointment, but some of the most grace-filled words exited my mouth and forgiveness was the only response i knew. a big God surrounded me, as well as a strong group of cheerleaders.

this year i will attend another wedding. i won't coordinate or have any responsibility except to listen to the bestman practice his speech and tell him how dashing he looks in that tux. [i will be a great plus one.] i won't be preparing to end things with someone, but rather, i'll be excited to continue on with this really good thing that's happening. there will be no long drive home, just a quick flight back to san francisco where i'll be thrilled to walk through my front door. i probably won't shed a single tear unless it's representing joy. that same big God and cheerleaders are with me.

the fact that this weekend aligns with the easter holiday encourages me; this story has come full circle and demonstrates redemption. never, not once, did i imagine this would be my current situation. i'm so grateful for the way things are unfolding, and especially for what i did not know i even needed. this is good.

the chicken and her eggs.

a while ago during staff meal at the restaurant we ate the most delicious salad and a frittata made of potato skins and chicken (very gourmet, straus). before my fork met the frittata, i crinkled my nose: for one, i had never eaten this combination of items and for two, is it okay for one to eat the mama (chicken) and the baby (eggs) at the same time?! i've probably made you crinkle your nose now. ultimately, this comes down to my aversion to eggs that aren't cooked all the way through. (yolks make me think of a fetus. sorry.) this story has no point, whatsoever. i just wanted to document the first time i ate the baby-mama combination.

it's the last day of march. where has a quarter of the year gone? time is passing.

to love the world.

my friend sarah posted this poem and i fell in love all over again with mary. i'm spending my time these days getting back to loving the world well: close to onehundred handwritten notes of love sent via snail mail.

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird —
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

-Mary Oliver

quitting is never as easy as you hope it to be.

often times people quit jobs because there's a new adventure or something more exciting waiting for them. sometimes they quit because it's a terrible environment. my friend erin quit her job because she was going on a seven month travel escapade and another friend lauren quit because her dream job working with obese kids was knocking on her door. i'm sure there's other reasons people quit, too.

i recently gave notice at the restaurant, a place that i've grown to have a fond attachment to... in the year that i've been there i've learned a lot about food and wine and hospitality. and serving and hosting and cleaning up dropped floral arrangements and the service industry in general. and apologies and management styles and eating habits and table manners and couples who turn the table to sit side-by-side and human-resources-stuff and invoices and statements and entertaining and life... i sure have learned a lot about life.

you see, i went to the restaurant in order to escape; to turn my grief into a money-maker. i had a feeling twothousand eleven would suck so i thought it would be a good idea to grieve by keeping busy. this is not something i recommend. in fact, this is a terrible way to prolong the grieving process. but it's what i did.

who knew i'd grow to love coming to this place three nights a week, smiling and buffing wine glasses while exhausted. or tasting new kitchen creations and learning about new and old world wine. or learning how to make an espresso and problem solving when people tell me they (God forbid) won't sit at the communal table. who knew i'd get to exercise a different part of my heart muscle as i worked with middle and upper class privileged people- quite the change from what my day job offers. who knew i'd stop judging servers who are serving because they want to make a career out of food and this isn't just a stop on the train getting them through school or supplementing their income. who knew i'd train for a marathon while working sixtyfive hours a week. who knew? i didn't.

so now i'm realizing that quitting this restaurant thing is not so easy. there's no better job or adventure waiting for me on the other side of this quit, just a need to put a little more effort into studying for my licensing exams. matt keeps telling me i can change my mind and stay. i'd be lying if i said i hadn't thought about it... but i can't. as much as i want to, i can't. it's time to be a bit more serious about my career, my relationships and me. i hoped this would be easy to quit... it's not; my heart aches as i think about not being part of staff meals and discussions about acid and tannins and blind tastes. and the people. i will miss the people... they've become a second family.

this type of quitting is not enjoyable or easy. especially because i'm not a good quitter. help.

it's time to own a few things.

when i started this blog it was because i was studying abroad in florence and i didn't want to send people a mass email; i'd hoped they'd come to the blog on their own instead of getting another lengthy item in their inbox that they'd likely never read. after coming back from florence i kept writing... since that time, all three of my brothers got married, i moved to san francisco, all of my niece and nephews were born, i worked at the urban house, went through grad school, moved five times, started my current job, lost myself-found myself again, ran two marathons and two halfs, attended and coordinated some weddings, learned a thing or two about growing up, giving, friendship, pain, love and humility. it's been seventyeight months of documenting my life.

it's hard for me to recall the exact moment when this space shifted from the things i was learning and thinking to cryptic and mysterious posts that could only be interpreted if you were in my inner-circle. the time period, however, is very clear: somewhere between starting my work at my current agency and my self-inflicted heart break. many factors contributed to this shift; becoming more serious about my career- especially as it relates to confidentiality, working to make this space anything but passive-aggressive, and wanting a sense of privacy while having an outlet to write. ultimately, this shift was one part intentional, two parts accidental.

i'm at a point where i'm trying to make some decisions about where this thing is going. over the years it's become less of a priority but it still holds a place in my heart where i'm able to document, write, and not forget. it's my piece of history on the internet. (dangerous, i'm sure, though my teenage dreams of running for public office don't so much line up with my late-twenties dreams.) i've thought about shutting it down but that seems silly since i once told myself i'd like to document my twenties and i'm more than two thirds done. but i'm pretty tired of hiding behind posts which often don't make sense to people and are really just about the latest drama that's dictating my feelings. this is mostly because i don't have a strong dimmer switch; i want to tell you everything or i want to tell you nothing. you could say boundaries are sometimes hard for me. but here's the truth: i want to go back to stories from the day and learning from those around me and experiences and dreams and dialogue and thoughts and ideas that aren't fully formed, but where i feel safe enough to show you... you, the world of my biggest fans, my biggest critics (mostly me), stalkers and old friends and people i don't even know. but none of this is for you... this is for me. this is because twothousand and twelve is a year of renewal and honesty and taking care of myself. it's a year of showing up for me- the organized, reliable, judgmental, thoughtful, sometimes tactless, smart woman that i am.

i'm not sure what all this means... i had the thought that i should write it down here, sharing with you in order to have some accountability. so i guess that's what i'm doing. owning that there's been some change over time, i'm not super satisfied with it, but it was what it was, and now i'm hoping for something different. and if every time i sit down to write and the same types of posts come out as the last couple years, there will probably be longer gaps between each published post. i'm okay with that for now.

i'm looking forward to what's next.

(L cubed) lessons learned lately.

smart looks really different, all the time. wanting people to believe you're smart is also really foolish.

quitting is never as easy as you hope it to be, especially if it's something you love. or like.

unrequited love is terrible. but it gives whatever's next a deeper meaning, i think.

gifts given to me, when i'm the most undeserving, remind me about the simplicity and beauty of generosity.

peanut butter sandwiches can't get old. i mean, they can, but i refuse to let them.

when a mistake is made, michele is the person to tell. hands down.

gameless relationships are life changing.