lucky.

I’ve been thinking the same thing for two weeks now.

I can’t believe I get paid to do what I do.

I mean—I make a living doing something I truly love.  Every day for the last two weeks, I get my day started with a little coffee and head out to rural Iowa to meet people and do my job.  I get to drive a car furnished by my employer (who I’ll be deliberately vague about since they’re a rather *known* company) and while most people wouldn’t be too thrilled driving around a billboard, I’m not one of them.  I couldn’t be happier driving it around, letting everyone know who I represent.  I hold doors at gas stations, I smile at strangers, I shake hands, I make small talk, I set my cruise-control and I rock out to my Windshield Time playlist on Spotify.

Iowa never fails to be a magical place for me and I’m really lucky to get to explore as an added bonus to my job.  For example, the last two weeks, I’ve gone down at least one dirt road to get to someone’s house.  I’ve visited two legit farms.  I’ve seen countless windmills and I’m becoming very familiar with the route from Des Moines to Omaha.

Today… and I’m going to do this an injustice—I was driving down a county road where I saw no one for 15 miles.  It was corn as far as the eye could see.  And beyond that, everything was painted white with snow: the trees were skeletons covered in white, the power lines were all coated white, the corn fields were white rolling hills.  The world felt quiet and beautiful and I was lucky enough to be a part of that.

The point of all this, guys?  I’m insanely lucky.  Blessed, even.  It’s been a long road getting here and it’s not lost on me that I’ve been well taken care of along the way.  Every day, I’m thankful.  Every day, I know I’m doing the right thing.  I’m not planning my next move, I’m enjoying exactly where I am in this moment.

shower with love

Hey guys!  Happy Monday!

Posts like these are when it’s a good time to have a blog.  I have some people I want to shout-out that totally deserve it.  About three weeks ago (my goodness!) we had a baby shower for my sister and her little baby girl.  It coincided perfectly with some training I had in CLE so I was able to get in a day early and help with last minute details and set up.

Sometimes I feel like my sister got the shaft with me as her big sister.  She’s always been first in the big things (with the exception of graduating high school, of course) like getting married and having a baby.  As a result, she’s been stuck with me helping organize said events; events for her.  I feel bad cause I don’t know much about bridal showers, bachelorette parties, baby showers or planning weddings.  Then there’s my crippling fear of public speaking/attention—so that combined with my general ignorance means my sister plans most of her own stuff.  I’m sorry about this, sister.  So I’ll just go ahead and let you all know that if it weren’t for our mothers and their friends, if it weren’t for my sister’s friends and if it weren’t for my sister, she may not have had much of a shower.  She was in super-crafting mode and managed to come up with the whole theme and none of the finishing touches were overlooked.  Our step-mom and a friend of hers made all the diaper cakes and were totally indispensable for everything shower-related; our mother made all the food, transported allllll the food and cooked all the food at the church—safe to say it knocked everyone’s socks off; Rachel and some of her girlfriends made the crafts and had the vision.

I’m so thankful for all the people who came out to support my sister and the baby.  I had so many people come up to me and tell me what a lovely time they had—as though I had anything to do with it.  Turns out, planning a shower from DSM was a bit more than I could do (again, sorry sister).  Our friend Steven (and his gorgeous wife, Kristin) came out to take the photos and he did an outstanding job.  My sister couldn’t have been happier and I have to agree that it was an incredible shower.

I wanted you guys to take a peek and also give Steven some credit for the outstanding photos.

All the nametags.

All the nametags.

 

Cupcake towers.

Cupcake towers.

 

My favorite bump.  My niece is in there.

My favorite bump. My niece is in there.

 

Amazing diaper cakes.

Amazing diaper cakes.

 

Gift table that overfloweth.

Gift table that overfloweth.

 

prezzies

 

My little sister—the social animal.

My little sister—the social animal.

 

The ever-lovely Kristin and me.

The ever-lovely Kristin and me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

nocturnal habits of cats

Guys, it has seriously been so hot outside.  My sister thought I was joking when I told her we’ve been battling a heatwave.  I’m for reals.

See, it's hot.

See, it’s hot.

I may have mentioned (via different social media outlets, certainly and by word of mouth) that I don’t have central air in my apartment.  Apparently, when one wants an apartment that’s full of character and charm, central air is one of the sacrifices one must make and we’re currently experiencing one late, hot summer.  I have one window unit and it’s in the living room area.  I’ve optimistically pointed a fan toward my bed in my bedroom and left the window open.  Unfortunately, it’s still too hot to sleep in my bed so I’ve been sleeping on the couch.  Really though, it’s more like a loveseat because even my 5’4″ frame is too long and my feet hang off.  It’s been a bit of a learning—my sleeping on the loveseat.  Mostly, though, I’ve picked up on the nocturnal habits of my two cats.  Mild mannered and sweet by day, they turn into jerks at night.  Thinking about that, I realized that I’ve never introduced you all to my cats.  I started this blog with one cat and agonized about a second.  I’ve spared you all this entry for some time now… I can spare you no longer.

Before I become that girl of “cat lady” fame, let me tell you that I actually really love dogs.  My coworkers can tell you—I Google pictures of Corgis, Frenchies and sighthounds all day long.  Cats are just easier to take care of than dogs (especially in aforementioned oven-like apartments of character).

Remy

My first cat, Remy came from a litter of kittens my dad’s street cat delivered.  Remy had several brothers and sisters and when I picked her out initially, she was supposed to be a boy.  When she was finally ready to be away from her mom, my dad made the two hour trek north with a little baby Remy riding shotgun for me.  After some serious clean up and early traumatization by flea baths and oil dips, we settled into a routine.  However, it wasn’t until I packed up all our stuff and made Remy my co-pilot for our 10 hour drive to Des Moines that we really became friends.  I agonized about the decision to get another cat (for all the obvious reasons) but I could tell that she was lonely…

Baby Remy

Baby Remy

 

Remy and the (late) jingle bird

Remy and the (late) jingle bird

 

Remy. Enjoys: doing whatever she wants whenever she wants, sleeping in the window, eating, sitting on my chest at 5 a.m. and generally being wide awake when I want to sleep.

Lily

… so I decided to start looking around at the Des Moines Animal Rescue League for a possible friend for Remy.  I looked a lot, you guys.  A lot.  When I found Lily online I saw something in her face.  She looked perfect for us (even though she was a hairy beast).  Thankfully, I had Gina (one of my amazing co-worker friends) to help support me when it came down to finally going to check her out (I may have said “we’re just looking.  I’m not getting a cat today.”)  I have such a heart for animals that I’d love to have a farm and adopt them all.  Long story short, I went back and picked her up that same day.  Bringing her into our home was really difficult.  After some time passed, I was afraid there would never be peace; I worried they’d never get along.  I definitely over-celebrated every hiss-less sniff.  It took a while, but Remy and Lily eventually became best friends.  She is the perfect fit and I’m so thankful for her sweet disposition and willingness to be Remy’s playmate.

 

Lily

Lily

 

Like a boss.

Like a boss.

 

Lily. Enjoys: sleeping upside down, kicking her legs out behind her while relaxing, drinking out of any sink, playing in the bathtub, and generally laying/playing/chilling where she doesn't belong.

Lily. Enjoys: sleeping upside down, kicking her legs out behind her while relaxing, drinking out of any sink, playing in the bathtub, and generally laying/playing/chilling where she doesn’t belong.

 

Truth is, at night, these two are jerks.  They knock my sunglasses off the entertainment center, knock my actual glasses off the coffee table, play with my jewelry *on* my jewelry tree, eat any applicable Apple cords, fight, walk on me and cause destruction.  I hope there’s a break in the weather soon so I can enjoy the comfort of my bed and maybe get a little restful sleep.

 

They look all sweet and cute. But they're not.

They look all sweet and cute. But they’re not.

 

 

newsy news

Hey guys!  I’m back, as promised, to let you all in on a little news.  First, an “I’m sorry” to those friends and family who already know about this cause it’s not really news then in which case you’re bound to be disappointed.

For the rest of you, without further ado… guess who’s having a baby (!!!!)

photo 1

This girl.

Yes, that’s right, I’m going to be an auntie!  My little sister (Rachel) is just over 14 weeks, expecting a healthy baby—which I fully anticipate to be a girl.  I’ve known about the bun for quite some time.  In fact, about two weeks after she found out, I found out.  It’s tough being so far away from my only sister with such exciting news, so I did what one does in this situation: I hopped into a car and went home (cause I needed to touch the barely there bump).

photo 2

Since I have been baby-crazy for the last five years (okay, my whole life) I am so excited for this news and so excited to share it with you all.  I already love Baby R so much and I know it will only grow.  My sister has been a champ (I can only hope it runs in the family).  She’s had only one bout of morning sickness and has really just been fighting fatigue.  She looks great and is making this appear a tad too easy.  As you would imagine, I’m mentally planning trips home, baby showers and an extended vacation near the due date.

Oh… and a big shout out to my brother (-in-law) Adam who had a big hand in making this whole thing happen.

photo 3

 

(Hi little baby)

DSM to CLE and back

20130817-120919.jpg

This would be a great time for a catch-up post. It’s been almost two weeks (goodness!) since I took some time off work, jumped in a rental and drove the ten hours home to visit my family. (Shout out to books on CD for keeping me awake!) It was a bit of a whirlwind trip. Despite it usually feeling rushed, I like to keep some degree of regularity when it comes to seeing my family; time with them is always a bit of a recharge for me. This time was especially important (but more on that soon!!!).

It felt so good to jump back into the life I left as though I never did. As it always has been, staying with my mom, time is filled with laughter, home-cooked meals, coffee talk and I usually sleep like a baby. When I stay with my sister, there is always laughter (a common theme for our family: we love to laugh), deep talks about things that really matter and we’ll usually follow one another around the house just because. So this trip home, I stayed a bit with my mom, a bit with my sister, had breakfast and catch-up time with my lovely step-mother; had meals, shopping and time with some of my favorite friends; I packed as much as I could into the little time I had. I hit my bff’s sister’s wedding reception on Saturday as soon as I got in. On Sunday, after the usual Kate/Ryan ritual of Mexican food, I hit the road to go to my mom’s. She took the time I was home off work so we got to spend a good 2.5 days together. Saying goodbye (albeit temporarily) to my mom is never something that gets easier. I got the expected “the house is so quiet” phone call and it tugged at my heart.

I ended my CLE trip by staying two nights with my sister and her husband, then I packed up shop and headed to Chicago where I’d meet some Iowa friends for one day of Lollapalooza! I’ve never experienced anything quite like Lollapalooza. It was organized very well and I was only really disappointed with one show – everyone else brought it down. We started the day with The Neighbourhood, meandered over to Smith-Westerns from there, checked out Houndmouth (huge surprise! They’re amazing live!), cut that a little short to make it to Band of Horses (I desperately wanted to see them and they didn’t disappoint.), caught a private show by Frightened Rabbit, skipped Imagine Dragons because the crowd was so intense, saw the official show for Frightened Rabbit and then had it in mind to see some Lana Del Rey. Saying the Lana fans were out of control would be an under-statement. I was tired at that point, my feet hurt and I was getting pushed around by teenage girls clamoring to get up close to Lana. So I took it to the back and what I heard of Lana was really impressive. She sounded even better live.

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(Chicago)

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(Band of Horses!)

I wish I could bottle up the feeling of being home with my family; I know my words don’t paint near enough of a picture. The experience in the bottle would consist of waking up to the sound of country music and the smell of coffee that’s been on since 4 am when my mom wakes; seeing the sun come up and hearing the birds sing in the trees from the enclosed porch; walking in the grass with no shoes on, eating blueberries right from the bush; having heartfelt conversations with the ones I love fiercely and cooking recipes that my mom’s mom used to cook from (some of them literally taped to the inside of the kitchen cabinet doors). It was always a concern for me that my family lacks tradition. I went through a phase a few years ago where I felt like it was the most important thing. However, I realized being home that tradition is all around me. It may not be something as obvious as a family reunion every year but my family is warm, welcoming, refreshingly transparent and the things we do and the things we make are all in celebration of the time we get to spend together.

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(Homecooked meal = worth the 10 hour drive)

waves

When was the last time you did something that mattered to you?

I mean really mattered.

It could be something incredibly simple or something that matters enough to shake your core.  For me, I realized today, I’m lacking in the core-shaking department.

I drove to Sioux City for work today.  It was a gorgeous day for a three-hour drive west in my uber-posh Detroit dream-machine rental.  I had the windows cracked and some Portugal. The Man. on the radio.  I was about an hour outside of Sioux City when I started to smell the smell.  Now, anyone that’s spent any time in Iowa knows what I’m talking about.  (They say in Iowa corn is king but let me tell you that meat has an equal share of the kingdom.)  It was the sickening sweet meat smell from the processing plants that are situated across the state.  In fact, sometimes when the wind is right I can smell it outside my apartment floating over from the east side.  After rolling up my windows, I thought about what might happen at those places.  It disgusts me to consider it.  Yet I’ll go into a restaurant and order a burger that probably started its voyage to my plate the very same way.

Like most of the personal revelations that make their way to this blog, it translates to my life as a whole.  I can’t remember the last time I stood up for something that mattered to me.  I can’t remember the last time I put my money where my mouth is, so to speak.  You all know the kind of woman I want to be, so when did I stop chasing those dreams?  A younger Ryan was a vegetarian in personal protest to animal treatment—and I stayed that way for five years (I wasn’t PETA-level crazy, guys).  It became part of who I was.  Eventually (probably for reasons of convenience and lack of proper protein) I went back to eating meat and tried not to think too much about where it came from.

My parents (all three of them) always taught me that I could do whatever I wanted.  They gave me love no matter what I decided to do.  They were on my side when I did well in school, when I was too lazy to care in college, when I was unemployed, when I moved to Cincinnati to go to school cause it seemed like a good idea and every subsequent endeavor whether it be success or failure.  They never made me feel like there was something I couldn’t do.  As a consequence, I think it’s taught me to love everything.  I don’t have just one dream, I have many, many dreams.  I think it’s left me in a constant neutral state as an adult.  Instead of mastering just one thing and pursuing just that thing with my whole heart, I pursue many things with 1/4 of my heart.

I know too much about the things that do matter to me to ever feign ignorance.  I know too much about food and I have very strong feelings about it, I know too much about exercise and the human body and eating right but I still offer myself the best of excuses as to why it’s okay not to live it out, I know too much about living whole-heartedly and being vulnerable yet I still choose to hold myself back; I struggle with the just do.  I read a blog post recently by someone I really admire.  She said “how you do anything is how you do everything.”  I have been kicking that around and turning it over since reading that, trying to find how that fits and resonates in my life.  And it does.  I always thought my life was waiting to happen.  That things would really get going for me when I found my purpose.  And as all of you good people may already know, I learned that my life is happening now.  So if I follow the “how you do anything is how you do anything” principle, how I procrastinate about the minutiae of life is how I treat my life as a whole; how I treat most days is (in reality) how I treat all the days.  I want that thought to light the motivation fire that I’ve spent so much time lamenting the loss of.

So that takes me back to where I started… when was the last time you did something that really mattered to you?  Is that something you think about when making decisions—is this something that matters to me?  I know that for me, I’m going to have to keep that top of mind and chase those things.  It doesn’t come as naturally to me as it might to you but it’s a noble pursuit to chase it.

a goal

I’m sitting in my running clothes as I write this post about running.  I’m waiting for the blistering Iowa sun to go down a touch in hopes the humidity will too and I can hit the streets with a bit of cool.  Even though it was 108 degrees in Vegas, it’s got nothing on this midwestern humidity.

In my last blog post I mentioned that my dear friend wants to run a half marathon, which I agreed to do.  Let me walk you through my love/hate relationship with running in order to arrive at how I agreed to get to this stage—that of training for my first half-marathon.

When I was in high school I hated running.  I joined the soccer team for the sole reason that my sister asked me to.  She was already an established soccer superstar and she wanted to have the opportunity of playing the same sport while we were in school together.  Making memories—you get it.  No illusions here, people, I was not a good soccer player.  Nevermind that I’d played indoor on and off.  Everything in outdoor soccer was different: the field size, no walls, my really good opponents and practice.  Early on, I loathed soccer practice.  I wasn’t really used to running all that much (or burpees or working out).  We ran a.lot and even though I spent most of my time not scoring goals and sitting on the bench, I did learn to appreciate the exercise aspect associated with practice and consequently with running.  After my brief stint with soccer, I continued running occasionally.  After a break for a few years I started back up by running with the same dear friend who wants to run the half.  We’d run the steps at Nippert Stadium or run after hours on the track field at UC.

After a time we both ended up back at home in Northeast Ohio.  We’d run the streets or at the dam (where all the local runners go).  I completed my first 5k which was a pretty big deal at the time.  Then my relationship with running changed completely.  I met someone who propelled my occasional running to something much more serious; it became a passion.  I ran because that’s what you do when you’re together with a runner.  I started reading magazines about it and articles on the internet.  I bought some official looking gear and got my first iPod Shuffle.  I started spending more time and money on running shoes.  I got a Camelback as a gift.  I’d run on my own, I’d run at the gym, we’d run together in the blazing summer heat.  I began wearing headbands to mop up the sweat from my brow on longer running days.  I loved running.  Then the best thing happened—my sister joined in.  Then her husband.  Running became more than just running for me.  It became something I did with the people I loved and it became quality time that I really treasured.  Running with my sister was a way for us to reconnect.  She’d talk and talk and talk while I ran beside her, forgetting my discomfort by listening to her words.  Running has been a part of my life, sometimes large and sometimes small, for the last decade.

I look at where I am now and I’ve never been less involved in my passion.  I’ve never run alone, it’s always been as part of a team.  I’ve never had to ignite this fire on my own.  I recognize that and I want to change it.  What better way to change it than to sign up for a half-marathon (okay, there are probably better ways but I say ‘go big’).  This is definitely a mountain sized goal for me and not one I take lightly.  There’s beauty to me in the notion of doing what our bodies are designed to do.  We’re designed to move, so move I shall.  I know what I want and tonight starts the training to get there.

on excuses (sort-of)

I don’t like excuses.  I never have.  It’s not to say that sometimes there isn’t a really valid reason why you did/didn’t do something.  I think the reason I don’t like them is that I know (deep down) there really is no excuse for my not doing the things I should do.  (Example: yes, my kitchen is small but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to let the dishes pile up in the tiny sink.)  Excuses are the first thing to flood my mind when a challenge is presented.  (Example: my dear friend wants to run a half-marathon in five months.  My first thought is ‘I can’t do it’.)  I’m sure this has a lot to do with psychology and negativity and whatnot but that’s an idea I don’t really have the desire to explore cause I’ll just confuse you and I’ll confuse myself.  I have a point with this blog entry and I want to stick to it – for your sake, friends.

The working title of this blog started in my head as ‘reasons why I don’t write’.  Then I realized that it’s bigger than that; it’s about my relationship with excuses.  To me, excuses are like a vapor: they float in and fog up my end-goal; they confuse and disorient me and I can’t grasp them.  I’m a little too good at giving myself excuses and as a consequence, I sort of end up shaming myself.  Crazy, right?!  The way I deal with this shame is to close in on myself.  I cut out everyone and everything, I go dark on social media (yes, even Instagram), I shuffle on through my life keeping my eyes down.  I retreat – all because of excuses.  That brings us to writing.  I know a lot of bloggers (not that I’m calling myself a “blogger”) struggle with finding their voice, consistency in writing and building a readership.  I know the only way to build my readership is to write consistently.  I feel like, when I’m in this self-shamed-state, that I don’t want to write.  I get so tired of myself and as a consequence I feel like you all will be tired of me too.  I feel like nothing I’m writing will be of any real gain.  Before this spirals into a web-based pity-party, I’m going to continue my original idea giving you reasons I don’t write.  Without further adieu:

reasons I don’t write:

  1. My phone deleted all my pictures (long story – not my fault) so any picture blogging I had planned came to a halt.  I say “my phone” but it was really a misunderstanding between my phone, a work PC and a camera.  I’d never blame Apple for something like that.
  2. I still kind of hate it that I don’t completely understand WordPress.  I’m going to have to resign myself to the fact that I’m simply not a person that can teach myself.  I need someone to teach me.  My ‘WordPress for Dummies’ remains uncracked.
  3. There’s cat litter on my desk which my cats use as a glorified perch.  How is one expected to have a creative space when there are two cats running around like crazies, leaving a trail of litter everywhere (did I mention my apartment is small.  Small space + two litterboxes = mayhem).
  4. I’m not really super happy about anything going on at the moment.  Springtime is fantastic – don’t get me wrong.  I love the city and I love my apartment… but I can’t muster up the modicum of happiness required to put into a blog entry.
  5. See aforementioned “excuse” of closing in on myself – I’m kind of floating around in there right now.
  6. I’m overly critical.  Of everything.
  7. Once I stop being regular about writing, it’s easier to stay on track that way than it is to get a thoughtful post up.

It’s not that I don’t want to blog.  Cause I do.  In fact, I’ve even thought about maybe putting some effort toward writing a book of essays.  Please just forgive me for this awkward time of in-betweenness.  I’m going to get better, I promise.  After all, if I want to be the next David Sedaris, I have to start somewhere.

P.S. I’m headed to Vegas in t-6 days.  Something good will come out of that, surely!  Right?!

visiting

Laughing

 

Look who came to Des Moines!!!  I had an incredible visit with my amazing sister.  This is pretty much what we do when we’re together – take lots of pictures and laugh like fools.  (That’s my Scentsy car freshener in the center of Rachel’s forehead.)  I can’t wait to tell you about our time together or show you all the pictures of my week with Rach.  We went to Ikea, the Mall of America (hooray Minneapolis!) and pretty much ate our way from here to there.

secrets

For about as long as I can remember, in my adult life, I’ve struggled with honesty and transparency.  I know I want to be an honest person and be seen for who I am and I know that I’m more than capable to do that for others.  I’ve read countless books on the subjects of vulnerability, living a whole-hearted life, honesty and its consequences and how all those topics apply to all sorts of relationships.  I’ve learned the lesson many times: honesty is important.  With my big move 10 hours away from my “safety net” of family and friends, it’s been a challenge for me to pick up the phone and have honest conversations with these people I love; even just to catch up.  And for what reason?  I honestly can’t think of one that’s important enough.  It’s become clear to me that my safety net is more important now than it ever has been (you know, since I’m blazing my own trail and all).

Beyond just picking up the phone and talking candidly about the everyday, I want to talk about secrets.  My mother, my father, my step-mother (collectively: my parents) have always encouraged openness and honesty and I’ve carried that with me throughout my life.  Somewhere along the way, it became okay for me to close off parts of myself that I was maybe less proud of.  Is it just the business of becoming an adult?  Probably.  I realize that not every single thing of one’s past is meant to see the light of day.  Despite knowing all that, I still find myself shocked when I meet a secret of someone else’s.  Especially since I go out of my way to preach honesty.  I’m pretty sure it’s a fatal flaw of mine and I have no idea why.

Honesty is dangerous, vulnerability is dangerous – it’s (in the wise words of a friend) a risk.  And I’m not strictly speaking of love here either, it’s being vulnerable in a friendship or letting your family see who you are (even the bad bits).  Why go through life cloaked in only the good stuff and leave out the messy parts?  It’s the messy stuff that makes us all real anyway.  Connection is so incredibly powerful and it’s worth all the tough stuff that makes up who we are.

Alright… I’ll stop rambling on now.  I’m trying to find the balance of personal but not too personal on this blog.  You guys get it.

And cheer up, it was either this entry or one all about my cat.  I’m not ready for you all to think I’m a crazy cat lady so that post will wait till another day.