A Cinque Terre Proposal

Let's just get right to it, shall we? This happened:

If you just went, "Wait... huh? What??" please take a minute read the story of Aaron and me, and then proceed. : )

It was October 2, 2012 — a Tuesday, and the fourth day of our two-week trip through Italy. We woke up in Manarola, the second southernmost village of the Cinque Terre (Five Lands), which are perched on Italy's west coast above the Ligurian Sea.

And we woke up a little... hungover.

The previous day, Italy had rained all over our Cinque Terre parade. Aaron and I managed to explore Monterosso under cloudy skies, but got completely drenched by a merciless downpour the moment we arrived by train in Vernazza.

Aaron braved the rain to take this photo while I cowered under cover nearby.

The only thing to do in the tiny town was find shelter at a restaurant and wait out the rain over glasses of vino rosso, but the rain persisted long after we emptied our glasses. We decided to skip the third town, Corniglia, and head straight to our room in Manarola to get dry.

Endless stairs led up, up, up to our room...

...which was absolutely adorable...

...and had a killer view of the sea.

The rain cleared up just in time for us to walk out to a viewpoint and catch a glimpse of Manarola bathed in light from the glorious sunset.

We then grabbed dinner and a few glasses of wine, ate gelato (just as we did every. single. day. of the trip) and bought a bottle of local wine to take back to our room.

Aaron fell asleep relatively early after a few more glasses of wine, but I stayed up late to fill out paperwork for my new job on the iPad (I got an offer the day before we left, and I negotiated my pay while waiting for my flight out of JFK!). It's much more fun to do paperwork while drinking wine, obviously.

And here's where things got a little strange. 

Aaron woke up around 2 a.m. and couldn't fall back asleep. He said he had a headache — probably from all the wine — and we didn't have any painkillers on hand. I felt terrible that he couldn't sleep, so I just stayed awake, too. He watched a movie on the iPad, and I devoured a really interesting book.

Around 5 a.m., I was so tired that I started to feel loopy and hungry. We didn't have any food, and there was certainly nothing open in the tiny village at that hour, so I drank lots of water and tea to appease my stomach. 

At 7 a.m., we were both starving and figured some place would be open for breakfast. We walked all around the village (which only took about 10 minutes) and found nothing open. I got really cranky and started exasperatedly saying stuff like, "Do Italians not eat breakfast? Aren't they hungry when they wake up? Who are these people??" Clearly, I had much to learn about the Italian way of life.

Eventually, we found a tiny grocery store that opened around 7:30. Miraculous!! We bought two apples and a four-pack of strawberry Activia yogurt — not what I would deem a great breakfast by any other standard, but heavenly that particular morning.

I was in much better spirits after we ate "breakfast" and got ready for the day.

We checked out of the room around 10:30 and grabbed more sustenance — mmm, focaccia — on our way out of town.

All five of the Cinque Terre towns are connected by hiking trails, as well as a quick train. We had used the train to travel through the first four towns, but planned to walk the 15-minute trail between Manarola and Riomaggiore. 

The walk is called the Via dell'Amore (Pathway of Love) because, after World War II, it was used as a lovers' meeting point for men and women from the two towns. It's now popular for lovers to enclose a padlock on a cable or railing along the trail to "lock" their love forever.

We came prepared and had our padlock all ready to go, and wouldn't you know... the trail was closed due to a recent landslide! No Via dell'Amore for us.

Aaron was not happy about this and said he was determined to put our lock somewhere. He suggested we walk back to the area where we had watched the sunset the night before and place our lock on the fence that overlooked the sea, but I said we should just take the train to Riomaggiore and find somewhere to put it there.

It felt like the train took forever to arrive. I started feeling hungover as we sat waiting on a bench, and Aaron said he still didn't feel well — he eventually put his head on my lap to rest. We were kind of a sorry-looking pair.

Finally, the train arrived and whisked us to Riomaggiore in just a few minutes. We both perked up as we got off the train and became excited about exploring a new town. There were signs directing tourists to the Via dell'Amore, so we decided to follow them and check out the status of the trail on the Riomaggiore side.

We walked up some stairs and turned a corner to find that the trail was fenced off on this side as well, but that plenty of people had placed locks on the fence anyway. A few small groups of tourists were doing the same and taking pictures, so we decided to go for it.

Aaron pointed out a tourist and said, "That lady is wearing TOMS, so maybe she speaks English. I'll ask her to take a picture of us doing our lock." He handed me the lock, and I put our bags on the ground out of the way as he asked the woman to take our picture and she agreed.

I began walking toward the fence, but realize the lock wasn't open. "Where's the key?" I asked Aaron. He looked thrown, and went digging through his bag to find it. I started chatting with the woman who was holding our camera, and then Aaron walked up to me and put something heavy in my right hand, saying...

"I think we should use this lock instead."

I immediately clapped my left hand to my mouth and started shaking.

I looked down at the big lock that he had given me and just saw "BOO" engraved on it twice (we call each other Boo... I know, I know... gimme a break here). I had no idea what to do with this lock. He started gesturing at it, but I thought he was telling me to open it when he was really telling me to turn it over and read the engraving on the other side.

Before I could do that, he got down on one knee and asked, very simply, and with a huge smile on his face: "Will you marry me?"

It took me a second to catch my breath before I could choke out my answer through my happy tears: "Of course I will!!!"

Thanks to that wonderful woman who shot continuous photos throughout the proposal, here it is in handy GIF format. : )

If I had understood Aaron's directions to read the other side of the lock, I would have seen that the engraving said the exact same thing he did:

After a big kiss and hug, I got a better look at the ring. It was absolutely perfect.

We are engaged!!! I get to marry my very best friend, the guy who makes me laugh and smile more than anyone else in the world, and who makes me happier than I ever thought possible.

I can't wait to call him my husband.

We're forever grateful to the woman who took all these great pictures. When I wasn't listening, Aaron whispered to her that he was going to propose and that she should just keep taking pictures. She did an amazing job, and we thanked her profusely! It helped that Aaron's Canon 5D Mark II takes continuous shots.

There were quite a few people who watched the proposal unfold and applauded when I said yes. All the women clamored around to congratulate us and look at my ring. It really was a fun little scene.

After everyone dispersed, we actually did put our lock on the railing, as we'd originally planned. We kept the big, engraved lock as a keepsake, of course.

I suspect they cut off all the locks from time to time to make room for more, but I hope ours sticks around for a while. The next time you go to Riomaggiore, look for it and let me know if it's still there!

UPDATE: As of March 1, 2013, it's still there!!!

After we finished with our lock, we went to a nearby cafe to giggle and excitedly recap the proposal. Any trace of a hangover I had before was completely gone, replaced by pure joy and giddiness. Aaron confessed that he'd been horribly nervous throughout the whole trip, and he was so glad he could finally relax! Of course, the reason he wasn't able to sleep the previous night was because he was so nervous.

I also learned that he had taken each of my parents out to dinner a few weeks earlier to ask for their permission to propose. My mom was overjoyed and immediately said yes, but apparently my dad grilled him for three hours before he gave his permission. My dad also gave Aaron not one, but three books about how to have a long-lasting and successful marriage — complete with sticky notes to designate the really important parts. I started crying when I heard that... I love that my dad cares so much!!

This post is getting long, so I'll do a "part two" post about the rest of the surprises Aaron had in store for me that day. There was definitely champagne involved!

But before I leave you hanging, I'll answer a few questions you may be wondering about.

First: Did I know Aaron was going to propose?

I wasn't 100% sure — and I didn't want to get my hopes up in case he didn't — but I had a pretty strong feeling that he would propose at the Via dell'Amore. He started to act a little strange the previous day, saying things like, "I think tomorrow is going to be the best day of our trip!" Then, he couldn't sleep. Then, he became really insistent about putting our lock somewhere even though the trail was closed.

And even if all that hadn't tipped me off, my dad gave me a pretty big hint when he started sounding all weepy on the phone the night before we left for Italy. : )

However, I was still really shocked when Aaron gave me the engraved lock and got down on one knee. I lost all control of my body and emotions, and just cried and shook the entire time. It was a perfect proposal!

Second: What's the story with the ring?

It really is my dream ring. You know why? We picked it out together!

Aaron says he always knew he would marry me. Our relationship definitely went through some bumps (like when I straight-up left the country to travel by myself), but as soon as I returned in May, I knew I would marry him, too. From that point on, we always talked about our future like, "When we get married..." It was never an "if."

Flashback to May: On crutches, in love.

I'm a very particular girl and knew exactly what kind of engagement ring I eventually wanted, so I suggested in July that we should look at rings sometime. I sort of expected Aaron to freak out, but instead, he said, "That's a good idea. Let's go today!"

As we looked through several stores, he got an idea of the style that I liked and started picking out rings for me to try on. I rejected each one for one reason or another — so picky, I know. Finally, Aaron pointed to one ring in a glass case and said, "This is the one." So I tried it on. And he was right — it was.

It turns out he (secretly) went back and ordered it the next day.

The ring is extra-special because the center stone is from Aaron's mother's wedding band; she now wears her mother's beautiful wedding band. I love having a little piece of the Pass family in my ring even before I officially become a Pass myself. : )

That brings me to...

Third: When are we gettin' hitched?

October 2014! We're in no rush, but we're having a great time planning so far.

I obviously have a lot more to write about — from the rest of our Italy trip to my new job to wedding planning — and I apologize for neglecting to keep this blog updated as I adjust to several life changes at once.

There's more to come soon. Stay tuned!

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Two great things

Today my cousin sent me some photos that he'd taken over Thanksgiving weekend.

This is my 91-year-old granddad looking through some family photos on my cousin's iPad. I'm looking on in awe because I couldn't believe how quickly he caught on to using it. My cousin couldn't believe it, either — hence this photo.

This was a great day. All of my granddad's children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren were under one roof for the first time. I'm glad that I will always remember this day and the time we spent with him.

On another, slightly related note, I came across this beautiful instrumental today. It made me a bit emotional after I had looked at the pictures of my granddad.



This song makes me cry, but I've listened to it over and over today. I'm really good at burying inconvenient feelings, like sadness, deep down so that they don't creep up on me unexpectedly. I'm really good at pretending I'm OK even if I'm not. Sometimes it's nice to have something like this bring those feelings up so I can actually feel them like I'm supposed to.

Some stuff in life is just really, really tough. But at the very least, it helps me remember to be grateful for every moment, and to treasure the time I have with the people I love.

Notes from the Caribbean and beyond

The answer is yes.

It. Was. AWESOME.

The cruise hit Grand Turk, Turks and Caicos...

San Juan, Puerto Rico...

St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands...

And Half Moon Cay, Bahamas...

We were pretty tired by the time the ship stopped at Half Moon Cay, so this is about the most exciting picture I have from there. I was also really sunburned, hence the hat. I had done a pretty good job of keeping my sunscreen on (went through a whole bottle of SPF 50!) until we went to St. Thomas.

Watch out for St. Thomas. The rum will sneak up on you.

We were able to do all the excursions we wanted to do: clear-bottom kayaking in Grand Turk, where we searched for conch shells and held non-poisonous jellyfish; ziplining in San Juan, which is something I've always wanted to do and had a lot of fun doing; and snorkeling in St. Thomas, which is pretty much the greatest place in the entire world, ever.

Fun fact: our snorkeling guide was from Woodinville! He graduated from my high school a few years ahead of me. I'm thinking the whole leave-Woodinville-and-move-to-St.-Thomas thing sounds pretty good. Or move to any part of the Caribbean. The weather was sunny and warm — upper 70s and low 80s — every single day.

Did I mention that it snowed the day after I got back to Seattle? Did I mention that it began snowing about 10 minutes after I crossed the finish line at the Green Lake Gobble 5K? Did I mention that I thought I would never cross that finish line since I had just spent a week eating and drinking to my body's capacity nearly every day?

Oh, man. Was I ever happy to cross that finish line.

How to look like a giant nerd while... you know.

I was only back in Seattle for a few days before I was off to southern California for Thanksgiving with my dad, his fiancee, my brother and our extended family — my 91-year-old granddad, his partner, my aunt and uncle, and my cousins/their wives and kids.

The goal of the trip was to spend time with my granddad, as his time left on Earth is growing shorter. I was able to hear more of his great stories, fill him in on my recent adventures and tell him some things I wanted him to know before he passes.

My granddad once wrote in a Christmas card that he wished he knew me better, and that broke my heart a little bit. I grew up in Washington and only visited him every few years, and never had in-depth conversations with him. There obviously wasn't time this Thanksgiving to catch up on all 23 years of my life or all 91 of his, but there was time to tell him about this past year, during which I've been able to catch my footing in life and figure a few things out. I also printed out several entries from this blog that I thought would help him know me better, and I'll never forget how delighted he was as he started to read them.

Most of all, I just wanted him to know that I'll be OK. That we'll all be OK. That he's been an amazing father and grandfather, and that he's helped create a thriving family of slightly weird people who really love him a lot.

I know he's visited some fantastic places in his life, and I told him that I'd like to see the world. He said he thought that was a fine idea. "I really hope you do that," he said. "You'll never regret spending the money."

I said yes, I will do that. And when I do, I will think of you.

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Talent, passion and love, love, love

This morning I awoke to a very nice and unexpected email from Jesse Tarnoff, the extraordinarily talented filmmaker behind Sandbox Love. He had read my August post about weddings and wrote to thank me for the praise that I heaped upon his very praiseworthy wedding films.

Specifically, I had summed up the work of Sandbox Love in three words: "Gorgeous. Romantic. Stunning."

So then I thought, "Hey, not only is this guy crazy-talented, but he's also nice enough to send a thank-you email to some random girl who watches his videos! Awesome."

But there's another reason that I admire Jesse and the other folks at Sandbox Love: They are clearly doing what they love. They are doing meaningful work that will be treasured forever by these newlyweds and their families. And they are doing an amazing job.

I've been struggling a bit with figuring out what I'm passionate about and what I'm good at. After all, wise people say that the best career route you can take is to find something that you love to do and then find a way to get paid for it.

Chris Guillebeau says this about pursuing meaningful work: "The world is waiting for you to figure out what only you can contribute. Take as much time as you need to find the answer, and then get started on it."

I'm still working on figuring out what I can contribute. I find myself thinking of things I might like to do, whether for a future career or just a fun hobby, and then I feel paralyzed by self-doubt.

For instance, I've always liked photography. I enjoy whipping out my camera to capture bits of life that I'd like to keep around a little longer. But I worry that if I tried to take photography more seriously, perhaps by buying a more sophisticated camera and really learning how to use it well, I might find that I'm no good at it. And I have this odd feeling that since I've never taken a photography class, I'm somehow behind (but behind who?). And because I focused on writing in college, I feel like that skill defines me, and that you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

I know that no matter what I do, there will always be someone who is better at it than me. But I have to remember that just because someone is better at something doesn't mean that I can't be good at it, too. And as soon as I refer to myself as an "old dog" at 23, I know I'm being ridiculous, but I'm just being honest here.

Just yesterday, I read this encouraging piece of wisdom in Gretchen Rubin's book The Happiness Project: "Enthusiasm is more important to mastery than innate ability, it turns out, because the single most important element in developing an expertise is your willingness to practice."

It's obvious that Jesse and the other filmmakers of Sandbox Love have incredible raw talent, but on top of that, they must have spent years studying, practicing, observing others' work and developing a vision for the kind of films they want to produce. Being passionate and putting in the work is what really brings that initial talent alive.

Talent without passion is a dormant quality. It's like Play-Doh that forever stays shut inside the container. It has the potential to be so many things — anything, really — yet it will be none of those things if no one puts time and effort into shaping it.

Having potential is one thing; living up to it is another.

I may or may not have a natural talent for photography — I don't know — but if I can start pursuing it with passion, maybe that's just as good. It's certainly better than just thinking about it and doing nothing.

Back to Jesse Tarnoff, my inspiration for this post. He writes on his blog, "I have the best job in the world. I get to tell love stories." He's certainly found what only he can contribute to the world, and he does it so well. Check out a few of my favorite wedding films from Sandbox Love:


Dan + Danielle's Wedding Highlights from Sandbox Love on Vimeo.

Ahh, my current favorite. The Dashboard Confessional song is perfect. The best parts, in my opinion: All the shots that "peek" around corners; when Danielle rounds the corner of the stairs and her family cheers; the incredible dome of the church; the look in Dan's eyes as he watches Danielle walk down the aisle; her father telling them to keep each other safe and make each other laugh. (The fathers always kill me in these.)


Allison + Craig from Sandbox Love on Vimeo.

This one's probably my all-time favorite. Again, the songs are spot-on and perfect for the pre-wedding and post-wedding moods. Best parts: The entire thing. It looks like it was such a fun wedding! (Plus, the father's speech — again, it kills me!)

Check out the Sandbox Love Web site for more. And big thanks to Jesse for being awesome and giving me an inspirational boost without even knowing it. (And I was serious when I told you I'll be hiring you someday!)

Three life-changing things I've learned in the past 30 days (Part 2)

I've always had a vague idea of the way I wanted my life to be someday. I'd like a house near a major city. I'd like a Jack Russell terrier. I'd like a husband — tall, dark hair, a bit of charming geekiness about him. I'd like a couple of spunky kids who make me laugh every day. I'd like a window seat so I can sit and read and listen to the rain.

This scene comes with that fuzzy filter that's used in movies and TV shows to designate flashbacks and flash-forwards. "Someday" is an amorphous time in life, one that I hope to reach, well, someday. But I have a feeling that no matter how much time passes, "someday" will always be in the future, lingering just out of arm's reach. "Someday" is a mirage.

Think about it. Do you think life is rough now, but you'll be happier someday? Do you think someday you'll have that corner office, that car, that house, that husband or wife, and then you'll be happy? Are you living paycheck-to-paycheck but thinking that someday you'll be making $50,000 or $70,000 or $100,000 a year (choose your own magic number) and you'll finally have everything you need to be happy?

The second life-changing thing I've learned in the past 30 days is this:

2. You will achieve happiness and wealth only when you decide that what you have is enough.

This is an idea I've picked up from the book Your Money or Your Life, the blog Life After College and several other blogs in the personal finance/simple living realm. The idea is simple: If you're not content with what you have and you're always wanting something more, something different or something better, you'll never be satisfied.

Sometime in high school, I decided that I would die if I didn't go to New York University. I believed that I could only be happy there, and that NYU was the key that would unlock all of my hopes and dreams. I'm not sure why I believed this since I had never even visited NYU (no money), but I was determined to go there. My fallback schools were other colleges in New York, and my last-choice safety school was — can you guess? — the University of Washington.

I got into NYU. I was awarded tens of thousands of dollars in scholarships, but not nearly a full ride. Obviously, my parents couldn't afford to pay the remaining tuition, and my mom convinced me that I really, really didn't want to graduate with a boatload of student-loan debt. Did I mention that she is a very smart lady?

I was crushed. I have a whole journal from 2005 full of emo entries about how disappointed I was and about how much UW was going to suck. I was freakin' miserable.

But guess what? I had a blast at UW and can't imagine having gone anywhere else. I wasted a bunch of my 18th year of life being miserable for no reason. I should have been content with the amazing opportunity I was given — to attend UW with the help of an insanely generous four-year endowed scholarship — but I had pinned my hopes and my happiness on something more, something different, something better.

Your Money or Your Life illustrates the idea that "more, different, better" will always be unsatisfying:

"Our expectation is to make more money as the years go on. We will get more responsibility and more perks as we move up in our field. Eventually, we hope we will have more possessions, more prestige and more respect from our community. We become habituated to expecting ever more out of ourselves and ever more from the world, but rather than satisfaction, our experience is that the more we have, the more we want — and the less content we are with the status quo."

A great example of this idea comes from my close friend Diddy, who recently addressed rumors that he might replace Simon Cowell on American Idol. He said, "At first when people were asking me if I was interested in the job, I was like, no… that’s not my style, but once I heard what Simon makes… I would love the job. I’ve got six kids. If I would get the same check Simon gets… we would have a ball.”

Diddy is a special kind of person I like to call Insanely Rich. He gave his son a car worth more than $300,000 for his 16th birthday. But even he wants a bigger paycheck! To most people, Diddy is wealthy. To Diddy, Simon Cowell is wealthy. Simon Cowell is probably hustling for Oprah-caliber money right now. When will any of them think they have enough?

To me, wealth doesn't mean having $500,000 or $5 million. I'd say having $5 million doesn't mean sh!% if you're unhappy or always wanting more. My idea of wealth is having enough money to pay your expenses, save for retirement and spend on things you enjoy without having to worry that a life-changing event (job loss, car accident) will cause you to go bankrupt. If are in that position and are happy with what you have, no matter what the balance is in your bank account, you're wealthy in my book.

If "more" won't make us happy, then what will? Your Money or Your Life says the peak of fulfillment is recognizing that you have enough. In terms of money and possessions, this means:

"Enough for our survival. Enough comforts. And even enough little 'luxuries.' We have everything we need; there's nothing extra to weigh us down, distract us or distress us, nothing we've bought on [borrowed] time, have never used and are slaving to pay off. Enough is a fearless place. A trusting place. An honest and self-observing place."

I've been successful with this mindset of having enough in terms of my minivan. Yeah, it's not cool. Yeah, it's falling apart. Yeah, I could probably buy a nicer used car with the money I have at this point. But the minivan runs. It gets me where I need to go. I always have been and always will be grateful just to have it. It's enough.

I think contentment really is a fearless place because it means that you're fine with what you have regardless of what other people think. Judgment and comparison are big threats to "enough."

I'm becoming content with things I used to worry more about, like the fact that I already have more than enough clothes. Yeah, they're not the newest or most fashionable clothes, and I wear them over and over again — my typical boring-but-comfortable outfit consists of jeans and a solid-colored, v-neck tee — but they are enough for me.

My salary isn't very high, but I can cover my expenses and still sock away some money in savings, and it's enough for me. I don't even have an actual bedroom right now — long story — but I have a comfortable bed and all the privacy I need, and it's enough for me. I don't have a boyfriend right now, but I'm enjoying my time alone and with my best friends, and it's enough for me.

Maybe all any of us needs to do is take a good, long look at any aspect of our lives that we feel is lacking. Ask yourself, "Do I really need more this, different that, or a better something-or-other?" You may realize that you already have enough, and then you can can just stop worrying so much.

This is not to say that one shouldn't have goals or not strive for better things in life — I am huge on having goals. But don't pin your happiness on that goal. Be happy now. You may never reach the brass ring, but you sure as hell can have a good time on the carousel while you try.

Jenny Blake wrote a whole blog post about "enough." I'll quote it liberally here because it's pretty great:

"Stop delaying your dreams or your happiness until some future state of perfection — you already have all of the skills, resources and talent you need.
...
"If you are constantly longing for the past or waiting for the future, your entire life will be spent — well, longing or waiting. Joy is fleeting if we don't stop to appreciate where we are now, and remember that who we are and where we are is enough.

"So instead of waiting for the future — for some future state where you suddenly have enough or are enough — be the future. Live and embody it; act as though it were here. It is. There is no there, or better state. Make the most of this one — it is right where you should be — and the only place that's real."

Three life-changing things I've learned in the past 30 days (Part 3) will be about... actually, I'm not sure yet. I had something in mind but now I'll have to choose between a couple of great things. Or I could just change it to four or five things. Decisions!

Square pegs and round holes (Or: My new, random theory about dating)

I am a perfectionist. As a proofreader, I'm paid to scour copy all day long for errors, then circle them with harsh red ink. I kind of love my job.

But most perfectionists are hardest on themselves, and I'm no exception. I try and try and try to get things right. I try not to make mistakes. After all, I know that I'm right there waiting, poised to circle my own flaws with the harshest red ink there is.

I've enjoyed a lot of success because of my perfectionism. I've gotten good grades, earned scholarships, won awards, gotten raises at work. Where there is a box to check off or a gold star to earn, I can be found eagerly scurrying to achieve.

I've been much less successful with intangible achievements — namely, with relationships. They really, really frustrate me. Every time a relationship ends, I get that awful feeling, the one that perfectionists fear most: the sucker punch of failure.

Today I realized that my gut-wrenching fear of failure is what causes me to stick with relationships that I know, deep down, have gone long past their expiration dates. I've had several relationships, short and long, during which I remember having strong reservations throughout, yet I stayed in them. I've tried to change my expectations, tried to change myself and tried to change the other person all in the name of making it work, only to be frustrated and miserable the entire time.

Why do I do this to myself? Because I don't want to admit that the relationship is a failure — that I'm a failure.

If you'll indulge the extended metaphor, I've been trying to fit a square peg into a round hole purely for the sake of achievement. Logically, I know the incongruous peg will never fit, but I've falsely believed that I can make anything work if only I try hard enough.

If things don't work out in a relationship, my go-to thought process is: What's wrong with me? What's wrong with him? How can one or the other or both of us change to make things right?

But it's time for me to realize that there is nothing wrong with the hole. By its nature, it is round. And likewise, the peg's square shape is no fault of its own.

The fact that the square peg and the round hole will never fit together can't be changed unless one of them radically alters itself, thereby sacrificing its original shape. It might work for a year or twenty, but the mutilated peg will eventually suffer an identity crisis, cite irreconcilable differences and engage in a bitter custody battle with the hole.

Maybe I'm reaching here, but you know what I mean.

I'll be the first to admit that I'm usually the square peg. I tend to be less adventurous, more cautious and have higher expectations for the relationship than the other person. Many have tried to get me to relax, stop worrying so much, soften my edges. But I'll never be round. At best, I'll someday be squoval.

I've made the mistake of trying to change others, too, on top of plenty of other mistakes too numerous to list here. My goal now will be to recognize that things just won't work with certain people, and no amount of hoping or trying will make it right.

Furthermore, I've got a bit of work to do on myself. Even if I were to find an awesome square hole right now, I'm certain we wouldn't fit. Past hurts have left me with rough edges, a few pieces chipped away here and there, some scars that are still fresh enough to be raised from the surface. My shape is imperfect.

But I have hope that I will mend. Time will smooth my scars. Compassion will fill in my missing pieces. Trust will rebuild my chipped edges. And being OK with myself, giving myself permission to fail, will help me relax those sharp corners.

Someday, maybe, I'll find my perfect fit.


P.S. This may or may not replace my previous theory about Legos.
P.P.S. I played with a lot of children's toys when I was a nanny. Can you tell?

I do... love going to weddings

I recently made fun of some guys who couldn't have been less interested in catching the garter at a wedding I attended. But the truth is... I kept myself completely out of the running for the bouquet toss.

I stood back from the whole affair. Far back. I didn't want that bouquet landing on, near or around me.

I'm not ready to get married anytime soon — I usually have a hard time committing to my food order at happy hour, if that tells you anything — but I love going to weddings.

I go to witness the romance, the chaos, the certainty, the uncertainty, the nervousness, the excitement and, most of all, the love — the love of parents as they simultaneously let go of one child and embrace another; the love of siblings as they watch their childhood playmates grow up; the love of friends, old and new, who gather to cheer and toast; and the love of the bride and groom for each other, which will hopefully last a lifetime.

I see all this love and think, yeah, I could do this. Maybe it'll happen for me someday. And, also, the calamari looks delicious.

Let's not lie: I also go to weddings for the drinking...

...the cake...

...the dancing...

...the entertainment...

...the entertainment...

...and did I mention the drinking?

Ahhh, weddings. What would summer be without them?

While perusing countless Facebook albums of engagement and wedding photos this summer, I stumbled across a former coworker's save-the-date video. But it's not just any video — gorgeous, romantic and stunning don't even describe it. And then I saw that same girl's "love story" video, put together by the same company for the couple to show at their rehearsal dinner. Gorgeous. Romantic. Stunning.

The company is Sandbox Love, a California-based startup that consists of some crazy-talented dudes. If you love weddings as much as I do and don't mind getting a little teary-eyed, watch some of the other videos on their Web site. The actual wedding videos are my favorite — check out a super fun, beautiful wedding here, and an insanely awesome and extravagant Persian-Iranian wedding here.

Ugh, save me. I'm obsessed!!

Decisions, decisions

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it." Sometimes even if it is broken, I don't fix it. Take my laptop, for example. It died in February while I was in the middle of making lemon-thyme cakes. Luckily I had finished making the batter and just had to remember how to make the glaze (butter, powdered sugar and lemon juice — amazing combo, by the way), so I was actually more thrilled that I could finish making the cakes than I was upset that my laptop was dead.

I could have used my mom's computer to pull up the recipe, I guess. But somehow that seemed like a huge inconvenience back in February.

Anyway, that laptop survived four years of college. Hours of studying. Hundreds of hours of Facebooking. (Let's just be honest about the studying-to-Facebooking ratio.) When that tired screen turned black and refused to turn back on, I mourned for approximately seven minutes, stashed it in a closet and ate some lemon-thyme cakes.

Honestly, it helps to have freshly baked treats on hand when expensive electronics go to the light.

That old laptop — from 2005, mind you — is not worth fixing, and I'll buy a new one when I have the money and when I actually need a laptop (when I move out). But for now, I'm just fine using my mom's desktop computer. I'm that way with most things — I will use them and use them and use them until it's no longer practical or sane to do so, even if they're hopelessly out of date and uncool. If I don't absolutely need a new something-or-other, why buy one?

I used my first digital camera for about five years, and I only got a new one because the old one had to be held together with a rubber band. Oh yeah, and I used it with the rubber band for about a year, too.

My iPod is a mini. Not the new, super-thin kind. This one.

I still have my very first cell phone, which I've been known to reactivate if my current phone dies. Then I'm that girl with the clunky flip phone from 2003, back when having a camera phone was a novelty. While you're standing in line for your iPhone 4, I'm digging in the back of a drawer to find the trusty ol' clamshell.

I swear I'm not a hoarder.

But the granddaddy of them all, the ultimate manifestation of this charming combination of frugality and just plain refusing to care what people think about me, is my car.

I'm sorry, let me clarify: my minivan.

I've be rollin' in the family minivan for about 4 years now. I grew up with this periwinkle monstrosity — it was brand new when I was six years old. You may scoff at the mere idea of this ancient vehicle, but 1993 was a very good year, and this minivan is quite a gem. It came fully equipped from the Dodge dealer with the following:

- A cassette player
- Manual windows and locks
- A slider door (with a child-proof option on the lock)
- A radio that works sometimes
- Four tires
- An engine
- Power nothin'
- Awesome EVERYTHING

Jealous? It gets better.

The windshield is cracked. A hubcap is missing. Sometimes pieces of the interior fall off and I'm not sure where they came from in the first place ("What's this plastic thing?"). There's a handle on the inside of the trunk that's broken and hangs in such a way that it will keep the trunk from closing unless it's turned juuuuust so. The driver's side door cannot be unlocked from the outside (this is a recent development) and WD-40 has no effect on its obstinance. Therefore, I enter my vehicle from the passenger's side. This can be embarrassing, but I think onlookers assume it's an OCD thing, and I'm clearly fine with being thought of as that weird OCD girl. I mean, welcome to my blog.

I would get the lock fixed, but I recently had $1,200 worth of repairs done to the whole rest of the van and I'm not too excited about going back to the repair shop again. (I will take this opportunity to mention that the repairman said he had never seen struts so worn out before. NEVER in his whole career. The distinction kind of made me proud, in a weird, wow-that-was-really-unsafe-to-be-driving kind of way. Don't try it at home.)

Despite all of its cosmetic flaws, I am now driving the Ferrari of minivans thanks to these repairs. That baby runs like a dream — a really bad dream, in which I am mistaken for a soccer mom at 23, but still a dream.

I've wanted to honor this vehicle, which I do adore, for a while now with a good bumper sticker, but I haven't taken the time to find the right one. Now is that time. Here are my options:

If this van were periwinkle, it would be a slam dunk. But I think it's a little boring.

Funny, but I am violently opposed to the offensive hyphen, random capitalization and poor composition of this one. For shame, bumper sticker designer.

I so wish this were actually true. I was not, am not and never will be cool. Please refer to the above paragraphs for proof.

This one, as you can see, is available in a 50 pack for your 50 closest minivan-driving friends. I sense doom here.

Speaking of doom...???

This one would be funny just to mess with people. And also to cheat in the HOV lane.

I take that back. As a compulsive rule-follower, I believe there is a special place in hell for people who cheat in the HOV lane. Yes, even for you. Don't do it.

Nothing felt quite right with these bumper stickers, but just when I was about to give up, I found what may be the perfect one:

!!!!!!!!!

On family

Last weekend my dad, brother and I went to southern California to visit family. My granddad Mills is 90 years old and in declining health, so it was wonderful to get a chance to see him. We last visited for Christmas 2008, so a lot of things had changed.

We stayed at the home of my Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Richard, a house that seems to be the major gathering place during every visit. My two older cousins, Jason and Aaron, have families of their own, and their little ones run around the house like my brother and I used to just yesterday... or 20 years ago.

Jason and his family live in Fresno, so we didn't see them this time, but we fortunately saw a lot of Aaron, his wife Mindy and their beautiful girls, Riley (3) and Kaylyn (5 months).

Unfortunately, the youngest member of the Mills clan (Kaylyn) and the oldest (Granddad) haven't met yet, but that would make for a great photo.

I spent a bit of time looking at old photos with Rebecca one night. She had a bin full of them from the 50s, 60s and 70s, as well as letters that my grandmother, Jeanette Mills, had written to my great-grandmother, Emma Mae Gard. I saw lots of childhood and teen photos of my dad — super tall, skinny, always making a funny face — and pictures of my young grandparents that I had never seen before.

There was one photo in particular that I would love to have a copy of. It's a beautiful family portrait of my grandparents and their three boys taken in the early 1960s. My dad looks to be about 5 years old. My granddad is the spitting image of my brother today. My grandmother is stunning and sadly not the spitting image of me, since she was a 6-foot-tall pinup girl/Amazon.

I'd like to remember my grandparents that way — as part of that young, happy family. As my granddad said, these few years of bad health are so minute compared to the many years he's lived in good health. He survived two wars, and had three children, four grandchildren and now four great-grandchildren.

I got to thinking about families and what it means to have children. It's such an enormous task to take on. When you have kids, you're not just becoming a mother or father. You're making others into grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, and even great-grandparents if you should be so lucky. You're creating a force of love bigger and stronger than yourself, a self-supporting clan built to endure whatever comes its way. And you spend your whole life pouring all of that love into your children.

I was thinking about this while I read a birth story by Kristen Frantz. She ended it with some powerful words about motherhood that grabbed ahold of my heart:

"What can I expect from becoming a mother? Disappointment. Frustration. Surprise. Joy. Love. Love. Love. Do I have what it takes? Sometimes yes, so much so that you will astound yourself. And sometimes no, this job will ask for more than you can give. What does it cost? All of you. And you will never regret it."