Mixed Emotions

I've been on a little bit of a forced spring break, but with less fruity drinks and sand in annoying places, and more working late hours, major spring cleaning, and, yesterday, sitting glued to the TV with my head shaking sadly. While I don't really have the words (or, sadly, the time right now) to express what's been running through my head since yesterday, I can say that I'm sad but hopeful, confused, inspired, and comforted. For every terrible act of unkindness, it seems there are a hundred more wonderful, helpful acts that tilt the balance of the world for the better. Runners are a resilient community, and their spectators are just as amazing. My thoughts are with Boston and all the people who are healing today, as well as with the police and firemen, doctors and nurses, and the brave bystanders who saved lives yesterday.
On a happier note, today I am feeling so incredibly lucky to celebrate two whole years of marriage to my very best friend. It is hard to believe that it's been two years, but as Kermit reminds us, "time flies when you're having fun" (or was that something about eating flies? hmmm...) I love him even more than the day we got married (though I would have sworn that day that such a thing was not possible) and I can't wait to spend so many more years together!

   Love,

    Meg

Over Capacity

I'm pretty sure that I've blown through my quota of emotions for 2012 in the past two weeks. But as overwhelming and exhausting as it has been, this fact is strangely comforting, because it means that I must be in for a quiet, calm, blissfully boring year starting next January: a prospect which sounds positively delightful. I am quite possibly the only one on the planet who has her fingers crossed for a new year filled with nothing astonishing, nothing thrilling, nothing even out-of-the-ordinary. 365 uninterrupted days of normal sounds just fine to me, thanks.

Despite the limits to which my emotional capacity has been stretched lately, I certainly can't complain, because along with the absolutely awful (which I am not going to talk about now, and probably won't for a while), there was the absolutely wonderful: the return of a certain very special person to my arms. Words can't begin to describe how happy I am to have him home, safe, and with me during such a tough time. I have to remind myself constantly that our life together is not on a deadline this time around -- it has been over 11 months since I've been able to spend more than 5 consecutive days with him, and this stretch of unlimited time in front of us feels foreign but amazing. Instead of staying awake all night worrying about his safety and health, now I'm losing sleep thinking about all the little things I'm looking forward to: snuggling up for a movie on the couch, cooking together, coming home from work to find him napping with our furball. And in a time like this, when so much of my brain is struggling to cope, to understand, and to find a new normal, these little things are what keep me going. I am so very lucky to have my best friend back.

   
   Love,

    Meg

Saying Goodbye

Please excuse the silence around here in the next week or two as I help care for my dad in what are sadly his last days. I am incredibly lucky to have lots of wonderful friends and family supporting me, but even with their unyielding love, times are tough right now. Having to watch the strongest man I know slowly slipping away is without a doubt the hardest thing I have ever done, but I am thankful that he is spending most of this time sleeping comfortably. 24 years was surely not as much as i would wish for, but luckily it was time enough to make lots of memories that will stay with me for the rest of my life. It breaks my heart that he will never hold his grandchildren, but I can't wait to tell them stories about the man that made me who I am today.

   
   Love,

    Meg

Honestly

When I first envisioned this blog, I wanted it to become a cozy little corner of the internet where I could go to escape and recharge. A space of honesty, where I could overshare without (too much) fear of judgment, where I could bare my soul and feel at peace, where I could whine a little but avoid the face that Dan gives me when I'm complaining too much. A place to talk about food, running, family, the military, my fiance-now-husband, my Dunkin Donuts addiction, and my dreams... or everything all at once, depending on how I felt. I needed an outlet for triumph alongside tragedy, the banal and the strange, the best and the worst.
Writing with honesty, as I've discovered, isn't easy. Certain topics in this blog have proven infinitely more challenging than the papers I took weeks to research and write for my college seminars. But I spent more sleepless nights than I care to admit over the title of this blog, and I (finally) settled on "Enjoy the Ride" because it captured not just who I am, but who I want to be. It issues a challenge: embrace the highs and the lows of life, confront them head on, ride them out with a smile. It reminds me that terrible as life can be, it can also be twelve kinds of wonderful, and that it's my job to make it through the rough patches intact enough to appreciate the good times. And large part of that, for me, is writing. 
So long story not so short, I know that despite the ache in my heart and the fog in my head, I have to find the words to write about what is happening in my life right now. Because right now, my friends, is a low. A lower low than I've experienced in quite a long time. The worst part, though, is knowing that I'm not yet to the bottom, but still hurtling along a downward track in the dark, hoping like mad that I'm going to hit an upswing soon. Some days, it seems like the past few months have brought nothing but bad news, bad luck, and bad nights of sleep. I'm struggling to keep smiling and stay positive: some days I lose that battle, but some days I win, and that's enough encouragement to keep trying.
For right now, the details are overwhelming in themselves. Last week, my typically healthy father was diagnosed with kidney cancer. By the time it was discovered, on a chest x-ray that seemed more like a formality at the time, it had already spread into his lungs. Thankfully, an MRI today let us know that it has not spread to his brain yet. He goes in for a biopsy tomorrow, and then will start treatment. This particularly awful round of drugs has a 10-15% chance of sending him into complete remission, so for right now all that we can do is hope like heck that he falls into that percentage.

There are really no words to describe how hard this is -- my dad has always been one of the most supportive people in my life, and I honestly never considered that there would come a time when he might not be there. The thought of losing him is incomprehensible, and so many times I've wondered if there's any chance that all of this might be an awful nightmare. I feel helpless and terrified, but I am also determined to stay optimistic. We certainly have an uphill battle ahead, but I'm trying hard to take it one step at a time and believe that everything will work out in the end. Thank goodness for my mom, Dan, a few amazing friends, and several incredible coworkers -- I feel so very lucky to have so many people who I know are there for both me and my dad no matter what. A longtime colleague of my dad's dropped by today to remind me that he was here for anything I needed, and that he had an endless supply of corny jokes just to make me smile. I think he may be surprised when one of these days, I show up at his office door requesting a full dose of terrible humor. Sometimes that's what it takes, right?

   Love,

    Meg

In Memory, In Hope

As I sit here this evening watching MSNBC's rebroadcast of the original footage from September 11, 2001, I find myself breathless at the fact that 10 years can pass in the blink of an eye. It truly astounds me that an entire decade has elapsed since that horrific day, years in which so many things have changed, and yet so many others have stayed just the same. Even now, I find it difficult to comprehend that such a tragedy could be possible, that any human being could ever want, much less meticulously plan, an attack on human life of this magnitude. How can you comprehend such an enormous a loss of life? How can you fathom the malice in its orchestration?
Almost everyone in America remembers watching the events of the day as they unfolded with horror and disbelief. My experience on September 11th was different from so many: as a middle schooler, I spent the day attending classes, largely ignorant of the morning's atrocities. The administration of my school made the decision not to inform the students and instructed teachers not to speak about the news in an effort to protect students with ties to the World Trade Centers and the Pentagon. One of my friends heard a rumor about a plane hitting one of the twin towers,  which he mentioned to the rest of us during math that morning. There were only 8 or 9 of us in the accelerated class, and I remember that our teacher gave us no details (either because she had none or had been asked not to tell us) and steered us from the subject. The thought that this information could represent anything beyond an awful accident never crossed my mind, and I don't remember thinking much about it for the rest of the day, blissfully unaware of the truth. There was only one other vague indicator that life was about to change: at the end of the school day, during the announcements that always preceded dismissal, the principal  spoke over the intercom (a rarity in itself -- typically we only heard from the school secretary) to tell students that the next day would be a "normal school day." I vividly remember the glances exchanged among students at this moment, looks that said "well, why on earth wouldn't tomorrow be a school day?"
It was not until several minutes later, when I got into the car with my mom to go home, that I finally learned the reality of the day's events. While most Americans watched the second plane fly into the South Tower within 15 minutes of finding out about the first plane, I had to wait a full six hours. While most Americans sat glued to CNN as news of Flights 77 and 93 met their final, terrible fates, I sat through Civics and French with no knowledge of the war that had begun on US soil. While most Americans began to mourn the loss of loved ones and strangers, I continued on with a day that had begun as normally as every other, a sunny Tuesday that remained unmarred by clouds of dust and debris until late afternoon, when I sat in the car and listened to my mother and they suddenly billowed in.
Since that day, I've always been a little bitter that our school had chosen not to keep the students informed. I felt that I had been purposely left in the dark while the world changed around me. I was upset that I had been deemed too young and immature for the reality of the situation. Today, however, as I watched the coverage from that day, I was surprised to find myself grateful for having been spared such incredible emotional upheaval as a 13 year old. I cried today like I don't remember ever crying 10 years ago, but I also felt infinitely better able to cope with the complex tangle of feelings that swelled up from the pit of my stomach. Such an act of violence is still unfathomable, unexplainable, and deeply disturbing ten years later, and yet I have finally come to terms with the way in which I learned about, and thus understood, the events when they happened. For the first time, I am thankful for those few extra hours of innocence afforded to us.

   Love,

    Meg

Gravity

This afternoon, I wrote a post on some Friday Favorites, struggling a little but determined to find some happiness in what has been a long and trying week. I wrote about how stressed I've been, how exhausted, how worried about my very best friend, half a world away. I did a little complaining. I felt a little sorry for myself. I made a little wish that life might move a bit faster.

Tonight, I came home to add a few pictures and hit the publish button on this writing. But before I got around to that, I clicked into my reader to see if any of you out there had updates, because I love to read every last thing that you share with me. Except tonight, I found myself reading something that I did not love... something that broke my heart and made my stomach flop. I read that all across the world, hundreds of people made peanut butter pie today, and I read why. I had not come across Jennie's blog before tonight, but even as a newcomer I was immediately moved by her loss and inspired by the love she and Mikey shared. I have never wished so much that I could cook with peanut butter, because if my allergies allowed, I'd be in the kitchen right now whipping up a tribute. 

Jennie's message, however, is one that we should all hear -- something that I feel is infinitely more important to be shared tonight. It's simple: don't ever miss a chance to tell those around you how much you love them. Nothing is guaranteed, nothing is forever. So bake them a pie, write them a card, give them a call... and hug them extra hard. I know that I sure would, if I could only get my arms around him tonight.

   Love,

    Meg

Friday Favorites

This week has flown by like nobody's business. Work bordered on ridiculous, the evenings have been basically booked, and I am so thrilled that it is finally Friday and I have time to take a breath. And perhaps a nap. Once again, it's time to celebrate the end of a long week with a little bit of recognition for a few things that have kept me smiling since Monday:

I baked a batch of the most delicious banana muffins ever on Wednesday night. My mom has been making this recipe for a long time and it's the perfect balance of sweet-but-not-too-sweet-for-breakfast. They are also really easy to make, but they certainly don't stick around for long (hence the lack of pictures). Especially when you have a cat with an inordinate love for baked goods.... Toby may or may not have helped me eat one. 

I never thought I'd say this, but I have been so excited to have super sore muscles this week. I've been working my butt off (literally?) to make time for workouts recently, and I got myself to the gym a record four times this week. The crazy part is that three of those times were in the morning, at the crack of dawn -- I ran on the treadmill Monday, Wednesday, and today before work. I also managed a few days of ab work, and I'm planning to go on a "long" run on Sunday, since it's supposed to be warm outside this weekend. I've been proud of myself for getting up early to make sure I have time to fit in a run, and I hope I can keep it up for at least a few more weeks before I start to make excuses.

This little ball of fluff makes the list this week for being just downright adorable. The other afternoon I lay down to take a quick nap (a seriously rare occurrence in these parts), and Toby curled up next to me and literally purred in my ear until I fell asleep. I have never met a cat who was so willing to cuddle, but ours is so content just to snuggle up next to me at night. Every morning, he is stretched out in bed when my alarm goes off, and he gives me a "do I have to?" look when I start to get up. I don't know if he's affectionate or just lazy, but I choose to believe that he loves me. Probably just because I feed him.

These lovely items are all from one of my favorite places to browse: White House Black Market. I wish I could shop there regularly, but most of their items are just a little bit out of my price range. The top dress is just so classic and cute, and the sweater would really come in handy in my office, where it is kept at an "efficient" 20 below most days. The pants also look perfect for work -- they are cut so beautifully and seem very slimming. But it's the dress on the bottom that I'm really in love with. It's absolutely adorable and would be ideal for so many kinds of functions. Definitely high on my wish list! Also, did you know that WHBM sells shoes?! Seriously dangerous, because let me tell you: mama needs a new pair of heels. Or three. 

The above is a terrible picture of my lunch today. Unfortunately I forgot to take one until I was almost done with it... but trust me, it was fantastic. I've been really good all week about cooking and eating healthy stuff, so I decided I would treat myself to lunch out as a reward today. First I headed to my favorite little local kebob shop to pick up a side of the best hummus ever and some flatbread. Then, since Starbucks is just so close, I had to stop in to pick up a drink. The employees there were apparently under some sort of directive to drastically improve my day, because they were running a special and I got a little tiny red velvet whoopie pie free with my drink (It was delicious and oh so cute). The guy who made my frappucinno also screwed up and put whipped cream on top even though I always ask for it without, and I just didn't have the heart to let him scrape it all off. I know it's a ton of basically empty calories, but I swear the drink tasted better. All in all, lunch was a lot less healthy than I planned, but definitely worth it. After all, calories don't count on Friday, right? Don't answer that.

On a sadder note: About a year and a half ago, one of my good friends and teammates from high school was killed in a car accident. Everyone who knew him, even a little bit, knew that his favorite band was 311 -- he went to as many of their concerts as possible, always listened to their music, and talked about them all the time. Anytime I see that combination of numbers I am immediately reminded of him, and today, as I wrote the date constantly, was no exception. I am just sure that he is up there celebrating today!


Happy weekend, everyone!

   Love,

    Meg

Hello, Goodbye

It's nice every once in a while to be reminded of the balance of the world. To realize that life is full of good and bad, and that only by weathering the lows can we truly appreciate the highs. This is a tough concept to keep in mind most of the time: during a rough period it often seems as though life will never be as good again, and when everything is going right it's hard to believe that the sunshine won't last forever. My blog title, and hopefully its content, is an attempt to reflect this kind of balance and the emotions it sparks-- to celebrate the good and, in a way, the bad. This week has, for better and for worse, presented me with a perfect example of the way life tends to balance out in a fascinating and comforting way.

first, a hello...

My future sister-in-law, T, gave birth to a beautiful, perfect baby boy yesterday afternoon. Although she was scheduled to be induced, she went into natural labor early yesterday morning and baby C was born around 4:00. He was eagerly awaited by his parents, older brother and sister, and grandparents, and is, as all babies are, just gorgeous (even though my dad has always said that all babies look like Winston Churchill. Not entirely false. Although I have a thing for WC -- another post for another day -- so that just makes them all the more appealing) I cannot wait for the chance to meet and hold this new little one. When his siblings were newborns I was able to get in lots of quality snuggle time with their adorable sleeping selves, so I'm so anxious for their visit in May and some serious Aunt Meg bonding. Welcome to the world, baby boy!

 then, a goodbye...

When my dad married my stepmother, my family gained not one but 4 new members: B, her cat Nimbus, and her dogs Onyx and Bullet. At the time, Onyx was a 10 year old black lab and Bullet a 9 year old german shepherd mix. They both had bounding energy, insatiable appetites, and a deep love for human attention. Now, Onyx is 16 and Bullet 15, and their ages are beginning to catch up with them. Both have lost weight and Onyx's black fur has started to turn very gray. They both have a tough time getting up the stairs, and even sometimes getting up off the floor from a nap. They don't always make it outside to use the bathroom. They don't typically hear you when you call their names from across the room.

Onyx and Bullet went in for a check-up recently, and the vet told my stepmom that he was beginning to question their quality of life. The weight loss and their inability to move around easily, he said, led him to believe that they were no longer happy. It's never easy to hear that, even though it's hard to reconcile the vet's words with the 2 dogs that my dad and stepmom see everyday. Now they are having to struggle with one of the hardest decisions a pet owner can ever be asked to make: is it time to let go? They both (we all) love these dogs so much, and while they would never want to perpetuate an unhappy life, the thought of saying goodbye, especially to both at once, is overwhelmingly sad. As my stepmom reminded me a few days ago, these were the dogs who got her through a tough round of chemotherapy and cancer recovery. They have been with her for a decade and a half, longer than she has been married or even lived in our town. It is heartbreaking but oddly comforting, though, to know that whatever happens, these two will be together. As hard as it might be to lose both of them at the same time, I know that they would each be lost without the other. Sweet Onyx and Bullet, our world will not ever be the same without you.

In the end, I can only hope that the rest of my life will be filled with as many joyful hellos as difficult goodbyes, to remind me that no matter what, the world will alway finds its balance.

   Love,

    Meg

Be Mine

Hope everyone had a lovely Valentine's Day yesterday! Mine was full of ups and downs (I'd say my blog title was especially pertinent), but luckily the day evened out ok in the end. We had a very busy weekend with lots of traveling and a few high-stress moments, but yesterday I had the day off work so Dan and I were able to sleep in a little bit. We went out to a great breakfast at one of our favorite little local spots and stuffed ourselves with eggs, hash browns, ham (for Dan), and toast (for me). Then we headed over to my grandfather's to get ready for my grandmother's memorial service. It's a long and relatively inconsequential story as to why we waited so long and why we decided to hold it on Valentine's Day... in the beginning it seemed like it was such a long time away, but there it was on the calendar yesterday, staring me in the face. Luckily Dan has Mondays off, so he was able to be there with me. It turned out to be a gorgeous and very short service -- a few songs, a few readings (one of which I read and through sheer force of will and a lot of luck did not cry during), and a few stories about my amazing grandmother. It was quick, celebratory, and uplifting: exactly what she would have wanted. Over 200 people came, and it was so nice to greet her friends and hear their kind words about how much they missed her and how carefully they were planning to keep an eye on my grandfather for all of us. The two of them have an incredible amount of wonderful friends.
Dan and I were exhausted by the time we left and since we had enjoyed a really great dinner out with our friends Sunday evening, we decided to grab takeout and head home for a quiet evening in. We exchanged gifts, and boy was I spoiled this year: Dan got me a nice new TV for our bedroom (to make the nights that he's gone a little less quiet), new speakers for our big TV, a few DVDs, and the promise of a pair of concert tickets.... I'm still deciding which one! Oh and the most adorable stuffed elephant (that he vehemently insisted I name "Horton." Sometimes we are only 5 years old.) It's been so long since I had a TV in the bedroom, and I am ridiculously excited to get home tonight, curl up in bed (with Horton), and watch something particularly girly.
Lest you think that I received all that great stuff and gave nothing in return, I have to tell you that Dan also got some pretty awesome gifts, including Godiva chocolate strawberries, a self-filtering water bottle, and the promise of a few nights at a great local bed and breakfast (except I've found several and have to decide which one) before he deploys. Actually, I'm as excited about that as he is. I am so ready to get away for a few days!
This week is another busy one, full of family dinners, long days at work, a concert tomorrow night, and the state wrestling match this Friday and Saturday. As much as I love keeping busy during the week, I am emotionally drained from this weekend and so ready for next Sunday, when things slow down. I'm really grateful to have another long weekend coming up too!

   Love,

    Meg

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Weekend... and Me

I have to start with a few apologies: first, for the serious lack of levity around here recently. I really do like to write about happy things too, and hopefully I'll have the opportunity to do more of that soon. Also, an apology to Judith Viorst, author of one of my favorite kids' books:

for borrowing her choice of words to describe my own plight. All weekend, it was the title of this book that was running through my head, as I kept asking myself, "how much worse can this really get?"

Right after lunch on Friday, I got a call from my mom. My grandmother had been in and out of the hospital for several weeks, struggling with numerous health issues which all boiled down to a single cause: cancer. She was diagnosed in the spring of 2008, at the very end of my sophomore year of college (Sorry, we seem to be working backwards here) Chemo was successful for a few years, and she fought her way into remission several times. Through it all, she lost her hair, her appetite, and her strength, but never let go of her sense of humor and a fierce determination to stick around. Just before Thanksgiving, though, her body started to give up -- she fell and broke her hip, dealt with intestinal problems, caught a bad case of pneumonia, and had to be "isolated" (visitors had to wear gloves and gowns) for a Vancomycin resistant infection. She seemed to be doing well despite these major setbacks, but as soon as I heard my mom's voice on the phone Friday I knew something was wrong. Her doctors think she had a stroke during the morning, and by the time I made it to the hospital that afternoon it was clear that she was uncomfortable and unhappy. As I sat there Friday evening, with my grandfather, my mom and stepdad, my aunt, and Dan, I was still amazed at how much my grandmother continued to laugh and smile with us, even through her pain. Leaving the hospital that night, I was hopeful that she would again be able to beat the odds and go home.

By Saturday morning, though, we knew that our time with my grandmother was running out. My uncle arrived from Florida very early that morning, and Grama's final words were to tell him that she loved him. When Dan and I arrived at the hospital later, the last of the family to get there that morning, she smiled at me and then, in a gesture I will never forget, looked right at Dan and winked. These responses were our final glimpse, and until she passed away Monday morning, she remained unresponsive, although we hope that she heard all the things we told her in her last days. Luckily, the hospital released her on Sunday to return "home" -- the Westminster Canterbury Retirement Community in our town. I am so thankful that she was able to leave the hospital and that my grandfather, my mom, and my aunt and uncle could be by her side when she passed away.

I am incredibly sad, however, that I was not there with her as well... but truly, I had a fairly good excuse. After spending basically the whole weekend in the hospital, I started feeling kind of icky Sunday evening. By midnight, that dreaded monster known as the flu had reared its big, ugly head and positioned mine, to put it delicately, just above the toilet. Too much information? Trust me, that's nothing -- I will spare you the really gory details. Suffice it to say that those were some of the longest hours I've ever lived through (and the most sleepless). I lost almost 10 pounds in approximately 24 hours... worst. diet. ever. The only good thing about these kinds of bugs, though, is that typically if you make it until morning the worst is over. My wonderful dad brought over a survival kit at about 10:30 the next morning, and oh my goodness gatorade has never tasted so good. I was achy for the rest of day, but that was positively delightful after all I had been through. All in all, a fitting end to a truly awful long weekend.

I don't feel that the real weight of my grandmother's passing has settled yet -- when my grandfather (on the other side of the family) died my senior year of high school, it took months for me to completely grasp the loss. As it did then, the realization that she is not here anymore hits me at odd times: doing the dishes last night, in the shower, and driving home from work. I went through a gazillion pictures yesterday (more of which would be included in this post if my scanner wasn't being a jerk) and loved seeing the ones of my grandmother with me as I grew up. She was without a doubt one of the most talented and inspirational women I have ever known: an intelligent lady who raised three wonderful kids, an excellent gardener, a skilled knitter, an incredible cook (I loved anything she made), a fantastic host, an avid reader, an able hiker, a world traveler and, perhaps most importantly, an extraordinary wife. She and my grandfather, married for over 60 years, were the most loving, faithful, and inspirational couple you could ever meet. My heart breaks for my grandfather, because I know that he is going to be so lonely without her.

Aren't they a cute couple?

I am missing her more than words already, but I know that I am lucky to have such wonderful memories of her life. I learned so much from her and hope that I can be half as determined, resilient, and happy as she has always been.

For now, I am just thankful that this miserable weekend is over, and hopeful that life will get better soon. I am anxious to write about happy things again soon!

   Love,

    Meg