A Happy New Year...

I love the New Year.  Yes, I like the anticipation of what is to come, the realization of possibility that comes with setting new goals.  It is great fun to think about who we want/need to be and the seemingly small changes we can implement that will get us there.

But I think I equally enjoy the process of looking back on the past year and seeing who I am now in comparison to who I was at the beginning of the previous year.  If things have gone according to any semblance of the plan (because, let's be honest, they never go entirely to plan...which is, in my estimation, a great thing - think of all that we'd miss if there weren't surprises along the way??), it is exciting to see the growth that only seemed a distant possibility at the beginning of the year.

In January 2003, I randomly wrote a list of 22 things I had learned in the year 2002, because I turned 22 that year.  Here are a couple of things I had learned that year:

"#3 - I have learned the importance of following the Spirit the first time it prompts you."
"#11 - I have learned how to put one foot in front of the other, face the music, run the gauntlet, and keep from totally freaking out even when I'm standing before a particular task, person, supervisor, or client totally scared spitless."
"#18 - I have learned more intensely my serious love of Muddy Buddies."

I didn't know it then, but thus began a really fun tradition.  Every January, I sit and write what I learned the previous year - I think of enough things equal to the number of my age.  I now have a firsthand account of 10 years of growth and change, change that spans my 20's and into my early 30's.

Today, I went through and found each of these entries.  It has been interesting to see what has largely stayed the same...

  - almost every year, there is an entry that goes something like:

"#5 (2005)- I learned (again!) that I LOVE being an Aunt."

...and it has been interesting to see what has changed...

"#19 (2004):  I learned that cooking main dishes scares me."

#8 (2007):  I learned how to cook: a duck, pesto lasagna, meatloaf, and chive/cheese cornbread."

"#21 (2002):  I learned that I love being in the Singles' Ward!"

"#1 (2010):  I learned that...it's time to leave the Singles' Ward.  Ugh."

Generally speaking, the learning spans the seemingly mundane...

"#2 (2005):  I learned how to drive a clutch."

"#8 (2004):  I learned that having a Master's Degree pays off, literally."

"#4 (2006):  I learned that car accidents are a big inconvenience."

"#27 (2011):  I learned that I can survive a hello hard statistics course."
"#28 (2011):  I learned that I usually don't start crying over this hello hard statistics course until after 8+ hours have gone into the assignment/project.  Or it's past 11:00 p.m."

...the delightful...

"#3 (2006):  I learned that roadtrips with friends and/or family are loads of fun."

"#14 (2011):  I learned how to collect brain data - and saw my own brain waves!"

"#5 (2008):  I learned how to kayak!"

...but there are usually some weightier matters too...

"#22 (2003): I learned the importance of remembering that God loves everyone, not just me."

"#18 (2011):  I learned that I hate suicide."

"20 (2008):  I learned the pain that comes from watching people you love turn away from Truth."

"#2 (2004):  I learned that I can appear confident, even when I don't feel confident."

These yearly reflections have created a unique measuring stick for progression in my life.  I wasn't aware of it until I looked at these lists altogether in the same day, but I'm relieved to see that there is a relative degree of balance in the things I am learning from year to year.  I hope I am never satisfied with focusing all of my efforts in one single area of my life.  Here's to well-roundedness!

And so, today, I will add another list to my little stockpile of Things I Have Learned.  As per usual, I did actually set some goals for 2012.  I printed off some little placards at the beginning of the year to remind me of my goals throughout the year.

I'm happy to say some have been achieved...

Done.  May 12, 2012.

Done.  Yippee!  Now, to go again... 

Did 2!

I'm 2/3 there.  Trust me.  That counts. 

This picture always makes me laugh.  Because it's kind of true. 

While I'll just have to keep working on others...

Here's to 2013!  

Happy New Year, everyone!

The reason for all of this

Every once in awhile, this PhD business gets a little overwhelming.  I kinda feel like I've been doing this forever, and while I have learned some amazing things about myself, academics, and not to mention speech pathology, every once in awhile I contemplate packing it in, moving into a yurt on the Oregon coast and doing nothing but knitting, baking, and chilling at the beach.  When I get to that point, I know it is time to zip up my proverbial (and actual) backpack, head home and return the next day.

But then there are those times that I remember why I decided to do all of this in the first place.  Watching a student finally get a tough concept, witnessing the transformation of students from relatively clueless undergrads into budding researchers, engaging in stimulating discussions that seek to ensure all children have the skills to be good communicators.  I love those moments.

But, the real reason I'm stoked to be in academia?  When the stars align just right, someone will pay for you to travel. 

I recently returned from an amazing little Research Summer School/Camp in The Netherlands. 

Countryside in The Netherlands from a beautiful bike ride.  (photo courtesy Sarah Katz)

The incredibly unique experience of participating in an international student gathering of this sort deserves a whole post on its own.  Let's just say that spending 5 days with 46 people from 15 different countries was definitely a Storyworthy Experience.  

After my five days researching it up, because I was there and the flight was covered, I thought I might as well take advantage of my location and play.  So, play I did.  I "convinced" my friend Kendra to meet me in Amsterdam after the conference.  What an AWEsome time was had.  A few highlights...

I loved Amsterdam.  

And, no, not for the reason(s) that others love Amsterdam.  The sheer presence of history was astounding there.  And the bikes!  The cheese!  So many things I love all in one glorious place.  Highlight of Amsterdam?  Discovering Pannenkoeken, or Dutch Pancakes.  Well, more precisely, discovering that Dutch Pancakes are what was hands down my favorite breakfast for my entire growing up - something we Cabbages have always called Phankutchens.  We never knew where they came from (my mom found the recipe in a random cookbook of hers).  I had no less than 5 Pannenkoeken during my time in Amsterdam.  

This represents the union of two of my favorite things on this planet:  phankutchens and nutella.  All was right with the world in this superb moment.

We decided to stop in Bruges, Belgium solely because of The Chocolate Museum mentioned in one of Rick Steves' guidebooks (yes, I am a loyal fan of Rick Steves.  Have been for years.).  Highlight of Bruges?  Two things.  First off, Hotel ter Brughe.  This hotel was originally built circa the 1500's and had some amazing European charm.  It even smelled old, in a completely quaint way. 

The view from our hotel room window.

Thing two?  We rented a couple of bikes and rode through/around the city to get to The Four Windmills of Bruges.  

I'm not sure if it was the magic of riding a bike again without a helmet (no one has helmets there...) or riding up and down the cobblestone streets and trails.  But, regardless, it hit the spot.  Oh, wait.  Third highlight?  AMAZING chocolate.  Belgian chocolate really is all that it's cracked up to be: heaven in a box.

As Kendra and I were planning our little excursion, we debated back and forth whether or not to make a stop in Paris.  In the end, we decided to go for a day.  Yep, we spent 24 hours in Paris.  That was enough time to stop and see The Eiffel Tower, take a boat tour on the River Seine, eat crepes and shop in a Parisian market.  

'Twas a little windy.

For some reason, we had more language issues here than any other place we went.  A highlight?  Buying perfume for my sister-in-law (who requested I find her some Parisian perfume.  Yes, she wanted me, someone who has donned nary a fragrance in her entire adult life, to find and select some delightfully-smelling parfum) from this Frenchman whose name I wish I knew.  

Guy?  Jacques?  Martin?  No idea.  But, he was delightful.

Last stop, London.  How do I choose one single highlight from London?  Would it be the postage stamp dorm room we opted to stay in (how did I not get a picture???)? the most amazing fish'n'chips I've ever had (that is not hyperbole, by the way. It really was the most amazing fish'n'chips I've ever had...)? finding Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station?

strolling the shops of Covent Garden Market? people-watching in Hyde Park? exploring the history of The Tower of London? 

  No, you know what I think the highlight was?  

At the end of a long day of walking (I'm not sure how many miles we walked that day, but we figured it was in the 6-8 mile range), we got off the train at our stop and made our way to the corner grocery market (Budgens) to pick up something to eat because we were too exhausted to find a restaurant at that hour.  Something about munching on that cheese, berries, and crackers along with some Viennetta (do you remember Viennetta?  That ice cream-y dessert from the 90's?? Oh, yeah, that deliciousness is still all over Europe...) as we sat on our beds chatting was surprisingly fantastic.  I'm not sure it was the highlight of London, per se, but that moment perfectly encapsulated the fact that I was on an amazing trip with a very good friend doing something seemingly simple and mundane, and it was completely delightful.

Kendra and I.  We make pretty great travel buddies.

So, what's the point?  Yes, I'm getting a PhD for several good and noble reasons (bettering the lives of people who struggle to communicate, teaching those that come after me how to speech-pathologize, blah blah blah), but this month, I discovered another reason to continue slogging my way through this PhD and beyond.

Travel, y'all.  There's SO much of the world out there, and I want to see it.  Who knew someone might actually pay for me to do it???

That's reason enough.

Ode to Katy v. 2005

So, I'm super excited today.  Why?  As of this day, July 23rd, 2012 (I started this a couple of weeks ago...), I have now officially lost 100 (yes, 100) pounds from the heaviest I ever was.   This is cause for celebration, y'all.  Do I have more to lose?  Heck yes, but oh is this milestone exciting.

To be honest, I'm not sure when I reached my peak weight, but judging from pictures of the era, it had to have been circa 2004.  I was a big girl.  For most of my life, excepting prior to the age of 10 or so, I've been what Sears used to call "Pretty Plus" (if that's not the most ridiculous moniker...).

I recently dug up some photos of the 2004 era and was surprised at the reminder of what I looked like then.   

(At the Tillamook Cheese factory in Tillamook, Oregon - YUM - hence, the cow I'm standing next to.  I was on a road trip to the Oregon coast with my sister and having a fantastic time.)

(At a summer barbeque with friends.  I can't explain the shirt and what's happening with that business.  No idea.)

I'd like to point out that in both of these pictures, I am genuinely smiling.  I was happy.  I was not depressed, I didn't hate myself, I didn't think that "if I just got skinny, I'd be happy".  At this time, I had just finished my Master's Degree in Speech-Language Pathology, I'd learned how to work with all different kinds of kids and I loved my work.  As I said, I was happy.  

Here I am now, in early July of this summer. With my four siblings.

 I'd like to point out that in this picture, I'm genuinely smiling.  I am happy.  I'm not depressed and I don't hate myself.  I do not think that "if I just get skinny, I'll be happy".  I'm nearing the end of my doctoral program and I'm excited for what lies ahead (I'm comin' for you, Boston...).  I assure you, I am so happy.

And now, my point.  I am significantly bothered by a culture which says that to be fat is to be shameful, unhappy, and (most worrisome) disgusting.  There are a plethora of pins on pinterest dedicated to the reminder that there is little worse in this world than being overweight.  I disagree.  I won't rattle off the various and sundry horrid character traits that I would hope, when push comes to shove, we would all agree would be more devastating to an individual/family/country than being overweight.  My weight is independent of my value as a person.  Being fat does not equal bad.  Why is there confusion about this in our society?  I was happy as a big girl, I am happy as a less big girl.  I wish we could perpetuate this ideal - being a good person is not related to your weight, I promise.

This is not to say that I have not become a huge proponent for health.  What do I love about being 100 pounds lighter than I used to be?  My brain is never occupied by worrying about whether or not I can physically do something.  I am always willing to give it a go.

I can jog for 2, 3, 4 miles, with ease.

I routinely ride my bike to work, on errrands, for fun.

I've kayaked.  Backpacked.  Joined a gym.  Adventured.

There're the seemingly silly things too.  I can cross my legs comfortably at church.  I can sit on the floor for hours, if needed.  I don't hesitate to climb into the backseat of a two-door vehicle.  I take up only my seat on an airplane.  I never worry about fitting into an amusement park ride - it never even crosses my mind that I might not (it used to).  If you've never been overweight, you might be surprised that these are the kind of things "pretty plus" people worry about. (see, what a stupid name..."pretty plus"...)

How did I get here?  Well, that is why this an Ode to Katy v. 2005.  I didn't put those pictures up there to invoke shame or embarrassment at who I was in 2005.  The truth is, I am incredibly proud of that girl.  I owe my current state to the girl who made a decision to just go for a walk every day.  She could not see what lay ahead, how life changing that seemingly small decision would be.

And so it began.  I set a goal to go for A WALK five days a week.  In the beginning, and this was important (I had no idea just how important it was), my self-imposed rule was to go down to the trail along the Columbia river and walk.  At first, sometimes that walk was literally 10 minutes long - 5 minutes down the trail and 5 minutes back.  I'd like to point out that it was not because I couldn't walk further, but I was usually sure that I didn't have any more time in my day than that 10 minutes.  Because I had permission to count 10 minutes as "a walk", I unknowingly established a pattern of exercise in my life.  After awhile, I found that I looked forward to that walk I was taking every day after work.  Pretty soon it morphed into a routine 20-minute walk.  And then I realized that the trail had mile markers and heeeeeeeyyy, look at that, I was walking over a mile every day.

Then I started walking just a little bit farther.  And a little bit farther.  And then I discovered This American Life podcasts, which are just under an hour long.  I invoked another self-imposed rule:  I could only listen to the podcasts while on a walk.  And then I started getting up to go walking before work and found I could easily do 3 miles in the morning.  And then I decided that I'd do 3 miles in the morning and "finish my walk" after work with another mile.  And then I decided that I'd "finish my walk" after work every day with 2 miles.

And then.

And then.

Little by little, I continued to add challenges for myself.  I added jogging.  I added biking.  I found I liked pushing myself to do and be more.  Through all of this, I paid little to no attention to my weight.  I was proud of being happy with who I was and was unwilling to cling to a number on a scale to validate my happiness.  This past January, after over 300 weeks of exercising (yes, I continue to draw happy little stick figures on my calendar every day I exercise...as I have since I first started those little walks.  If you're curious, this week was Week 331.), I decided to buy a scale to see how changing some food habits would affect my weight.

Since then, I've lost 45 pounds (turns out, there were definitely some things needing some tweaking in my eating habits).  I have not fad-dieted.  I've simply tracked my food intake and worked at eating real food.  Whole grains, fresh produce, meals from scratch.  I still eat sugar/dessert, but I'm careful about when and how much.

So, why do I share all of this?  Perhaps it's because I like to believe that I am living proof that small steps can yield incredible strides forward.  I am 100% positive that anyone can do this.  No personal trainer.  I didn't join a gym until 8 months ago and then it was because I was tired of exercising in the freezing cold and ice.  In 2005, I had no way of knowing what my life would look like in 2012.  Almost having a PhD?  100 pounds lighter?  Jogging for 4 miles?  Living in Nebraska?  No way.

So, Katy v. 2005: props to you, my friend.   You are pretty stinking amazing.

May the awesomeness continue.  Forever and always.  :-)

Two peas

This week my Dad has been building a chicken coop for his 85-year-old father.  Grandma came home with a batch of chickens and so one might think the coop is for her and her chickens, but no.

Grandpa is in charge of fetching the eggs.  Before the chicken house went up, the hens were roosting in the doghouse, in the goat pen, behind a line of chicken wire.  Grandma nor Grandpa seemed to find any issue with Grandpa, at 85, having to crawl on his hands and knees under the wire and chicken poo to get to the eggs.  And so my Dad (and Uncle) built them a fancy chicken coop, with a door and a window, neither of which require army-crawling in the mud in order to gather the eggs.  I assure you, the chicken coop is for Grandpa.

These two have a long history together.  I went to admire the new coop and happened to catch them taking a break on the swings.  

Despite a history which has included a difficult start and a difficult middle, they are two peas in a pod now.  As I grew older and learned some of their history, it was hard for me to reconcile the kind and gentle grandfather I knew with the tumult of his past.  I am grateful for who he has decided to become.

But I think I am more grateful for a father who made a conscious choice (and I believe it was a conscious choice) to not be embittered by an early life that was far less than ideal.  He made a conscious choice (and I believe he succeeded) to create a different experience for his own children.  His is a very powerful example of forgiving and forgetting.  And I do believe he, his father, and we are all the better for it.

(And the picture just makes me smile.)

Midsummer's Day!

Have you ever heard of this book before?

The Twenty-Fourth of June, by Grace S. Richmond.  This was a favorite of my mom's she pulled from her grandfather's bookshelf when she was a girl and she passed along a copy to each of her children in turn.  It is a fantastic little love story with a spunky heroine, cleverly written, and one that I have read repeatedly over the years.  My favorite thing to do is to read it such that I have reached the climax of the book on the literal 24th of June which, if you've read the book, you'll know is none other than Midsummer's Day.  It is a date on which the story hinges.  Delightfully.

I love sharing and asking about others' favorite books of all time.  This is one of mine.  While I find this book charming, funny, and utterly delightful, it has been met with some criticism by those who've borrowed it after learning it was a favorite of mine.  One girl even mockingly reenacted a scene upon its return.  I kind of wanted to snatch the book out of her hands so it couldn't hear her disparaging words.  (Books have feelings, right?)

To be fair, I have read the favorite books of others and wondered, "Really??  This Nicholas Sparks book is your all-time favorite book...ever??"  I hope that despite my own opinions, I have not openly mocked the choice of others in their (and their book's) presence.  Everyone is entitled to their own favorite books.  I wonder what your favorite books say about you. It seems that often my favorite books depict characters with traits I aspire to have and/or who I imagine myself to be deep down without the realities of self-doubt and worry getting in the way.  The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery, The Anne Series, by L.M. Montgomery, The Harry Potter Series, by J.K. Rowling, The Book Thief, by Marcus Zusak, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer, The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas, The Hiding Place, by Corrie Ten Boom.  Oh, there are so many more.

I love good books. 

Anyway, today is the 24th of June.  I never fail to think about this particular favorite book of mine on this particular day.  This June, this obnoxious dissertation of mine got in the way of my being able to read it.  When things settle down a bit, perhaps I will go ahead and read it anyhow.  Or, I will wait until next summer when I will, God-willing, have earned this little PhD of mine, presumably have oodles of time on my hands and can enjoy the tale all over again.

If you're interested, check it out.  Please don't judge me too harshly if you find it "ridiculous", "cheesy", or "completely unrealistic" (the words that were used to describe it by the mocker).  I prefer "idyllic", "charming", and "delightful".  

What are your favorites?  Someday (soon, I hope), I will need some new good books to delve into.  I need to start my wish list.

And in the meantime, Happy Midsummer's Day!

On cleaning my mother's bathroom

My mom has multiple sclerosis.  I've learned a lot about MS in the last couple of years since she received her diagnosis.  While the internet has provided a realm of information related to the course of MS, watching her has provided a much more educational witness of its impact.

I have watched as her body begins to withhold its response to her commands.

I have listened to her frustration as her incredible (and infamous) willpower to accomplish anything and everything has no control over a disease that scoffs at determination.

I have marveled as she audibly thanks The Lord every time she drops something on the floor for the privilege of picking it up because, "Thou knowest I would never make myself get down on the floor were it not for picking up this spoon/marble/newspaper."

I have mourned the loss of her meticulous handwriting to a disease that forces wriggles into the loops of her B's and O's.  With every carefully penned note I receive, I can feel the effort it took to override the unforgiving rigidity she faces.

I am trying not to detest this disease that is moving far faster than we had hoped for her. But, so it goes.

For most of my adult life, I have wondered how on earth I could begin to convey the gratitude I feel to her (and my dad) for the teaching/patience/love/time they've so selflessly given to me throughout my life.  I'm not sure I will ever be able to delude myself into thinking I (or anybody) can actually do it.  But, perhaps I've had a glimpse.  Over the holidays, I traveled 1500 miles home to see and be with my family.  My mom has a gift for grit and would be content for us to not know how hard things can be for her.  But, she did not raise stupid children.

My parents have one bathroom in their delightful old house.  It is compact and filled with nooks and corners.  While it is beautiful, quaint and charming, someone with limited mobility and stretch would have difficulty reaching all of its corners.

I spent a morning cleaning that bathroom from top to bottom, just because.  I scrubbed with an intensity I don't often muster in my own household cleaning efforts.  Perhaps it's because I worry about time, not enough of it, in a way I didn't used to.  Perhaps it's because I could see exactly how far back behind the tub/toilet/sink on the linoleum she could reach on her own.  Perhaps it's because I believe that to love is to serve.  I don't know.  All I know is that I would clean 700 bathrooms for her, if I thought she needed it.  I can never repay her for what she has given me.  But, I can clean her bathroom.

(Mom and I, November 2010.  When she nearly gave me a heart attack because she wouldn't take my arm while walking down 100 bleacher steps in the Nebraska football stadium.  Determined, determined woman.  :-)...)

Tidbits

First up.  No, we have not done anything yet with the pile o' mini-propane tanks on our deck.  Well, except add one more propane tank.  We'll figure it out yet...

Secondly, can I just say again, I'm a fan of Pinterest.  I went to a get-together with some friends last weekend and knew I wanted to make this little army of penguins I saw a few weeks back..

 Aren't they adorable?

 I think my favorite part is saving them 'til the end of the meal...they stoically stand guard as I consume morsel after morsel until...finally...I snarf a penguin while the last little penguin watches.  I wonder what he's thinking.

 "Don't eat me.  Take him instead."

Thirdly, I wanted to share this little video I saw this morning.  I love this kid.  And I love his dad, too.  So glad to know this kind of AMAZING creative play is still alive and well in a world full of video games and computers.  Enjoy.

Get the fun pass.  Always.