A Jerry Maguire Morning

I woke up and rolled over and Nick said, "Good morning."

I replied from one of my favorite movies, "I LOVE the morning! I clap [clap once] my hands and say, 'THIS [punch air with high fist] is going to be a great day!'"

I made him repeat it with me, actions and all.

It's good to start the day sharing a loud laugh with your loved one.

Pretty in Pics

Here are two pictures from the housewarming. In one of them you can see Nick loving whatever Tom Ward is telling him; not an unusual sight. The other is of two dear friends of mine who made the trip from Cincinnati and Louisville to help warm up the house.

The last picture I was saving for parents to show of all that I brought back from the Philippines: two bottles of wine, countless wooden crafts, three textile wall hangings, a barrage of snacks available only in SE Asia, handmade soups, jewelry, bags, books, and various trinkets and souvenirs from my travels. It is nothing short of a miracle that I was not detained in customs.

Last night Nick and I met some friends out for dinner in Little Italy. Of course, I bought two cannoli's for late night enjoyment. After dinner, Nick went out with Matt Thomas, aka Books, and even though I promised to pick him up later, I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillowcase. Good thing Nick is a patient man. This weekend Nick is going Tim Norris' bachelor party at Salt Fork while I continue to get used to life in Ohio. Two weeks to Kelly's wedding, aka Big Fun, and we're both pumped and ready for another great family wedding!

Making a Home, For Good

I've been home for 9 days and - thank the good saints - I finally was able to sleep like a normal human being last night. I was
O-U-T last night at 10pm and fell asleep with all my jewelry on and my cell phone in my right hand. Don't ask me who I was on the phone with because, as Nick has been describing, "You were so tired, I don't even know if you knew your own name."

Well, I do know my own name. Now.

We had a lovely housewarming party on Saturday and it was a glorious day with lots of sunshine in and out of the house. Tom and Katie Ward tromped into our new digs all the way from Cincinnati, as did my former roomies Claire Mugavin and Lea Minniti Shephard. A nice XU reunion for all as Pete Kosoglov stopped in, just back from Scotland. My brother and sister were able to make it with their significant others and family and lots of Nick's wonderful co-workers stopped by for a few hours to enjoy our newly blessed home and table of Filipino, Hawaiian, Italian, and American foods.

Truthfully, as wonderful as our new home is, it's still extremely odd for me to wake up in this new place. "Home" before my trip was a highrise apartment in downtown Boston. But, here are my clothes, my robe, and all my books neatly arranged in little folds in Shaker Heights, Ohio as if I've been living here for quite some time. I have no memories here, but all my things are hung as if I've hung them myself. My shoes are arranged as if I left them in my closet. It's a strange feeling. Like I have amnesia and everyone keeps saying, "Welcome Home!" and I have no idea what this house is all about just yet. I'm not used to its noises or the way the cabinets swing open or the creepiness of a dark basement.

Sunday evening, Nick and I went down to Columbus to spend time with his siblings. Kelly, his sister, is getting married in a little over two weeks and it was a nice opportunity to spend quality time before a big event like a wedding. As exciting as they are, as emotional as they can be, weddings are not exactly the time to talk for long periods of time. So we relaxed by a BBQ and caught up. I fell asleep on a couch and while I was asleep, everyone else has decided to move on to a bar to end the evening. I cannot convey how disoriented I was when I woke up after a 4 hour nap to find a completely dark room and a TV the size of a garage door in front of me that was "on" but the screen was black so all I heard were stranger's voices. Talk about intense confusion, I didn't know if I was in Boston, the Philippines, or in Shaker Heights, Ohio. I was right on the fourth try, "Oh, right...we're in Columbus today."

So life continues to become more and more familiar to me as we settle and make this house our home, a place we will be staying for awhile. I marvel at the small things - seeing the orange plastic wrapped Plain Dealer laying in our driveway, the blooming flowers, and the breeze through our windows. Eleven addresses in eleven years makes one grateful for the steadiness of home. Nine weeks in another country makes one ecstatic to be able to call this blessing a "home."

The Power of Numbers

Normal Number of Sleep Hours from Mon-Friday: 40
Number of Hours Slept Since Monday: 19

I'm becoming really good friends with 4am.

Radical Gratitude

As some of you may know, I am working on a collection of essays about my recent voyage to the Philippines. Each essay explores a different perspective of my learnings and meditations. This is one of those essays and is entitled, "Radical Gratitude."

There is a sweetness to life that I wish for all to experience someday.

A sweetness of age when wisdom falls into your life after years and pain and triumph and effort.

The sweetness comes in waves and, like the tide, overpowers even the sturdiest stance.

There are few times in our lives when we have the ability to truly experience gratitude. A grace that articulates a clear perception of one’s blessings, gratitude comes only with time, when one’s ability to receive is matched by the comprehension of such rare gifts.

Few days can you wake up and fully grasp the miracle of life, its ability to carry on despite death, disease, corruption, and sin. Life, in all its glory, steals my breath when I open a window and smell the warm air slowly nuzzle into the quiet blades of late summer grass. I am grateful for that smell.

Few days can you laugh over the inevitable (and perhaps even necessary) complications of life – a late appointment, a flat tire, the needles of rain – and move forward in gratitude for simply being alive to witness one more embrace from a loving sister, one more soft kiss from a spouse, and one more conversation with an aging mother.

There is a truth to life that often hides in the folds of activity and bustle: gratitude is experiencing life twice.

Gratitude is what softens us and makes us vulnerable to the fragile reality of our mortality. It deepens our sense of time to where each second becomes an impassable opportunity to open ourselves, to unwind from secrecy, guilt, and unbind ourselves from the hinges of the past. Gratitude is forgiveness, humility, and delivers exhilarating purity.

A natural drug, it propels the mind to see the heart of each act, the true intention of another’s actions, and eradicates insecure bravado and inflation. Pure thanksgiving moves our feet to the side, bows our heads, uplifts and affirms our very self-worth.

I would be nowhere without family. I’d be stunted without friends and for reasons I cannot fathom; I was blessed with the abundance of both. The miracle of each person and their ability to love me quiets every thought in that contemplation. That simple equation of love begets love is the most undervalued lesson in our social development. How had I forgotten that? Love begets love, gratitude begets tranquility.

I intend to live the rest of my life with radical gratitude, a notion that often gets misdiagnosed with expressing thanks. Radical gratitude, a state of perfect spiritual vision, befuddles the temptation to take stock and inventory of one’s personal bank accounts and plans for acquiring more. It leaves the eyes trailing upward and gently taps me when I have enough. In that small prayer it becomes clear that I often have too much; too much for one person to enjoy in one lifetime. It is the only light that uncovers the finest lines of human detail. The clarity of those blessing tastes as sweet as a caramel apple in autumn or strawberry lemonade at noon. It smells like a sleeping baby’s cheek and sounds like rustling green leaves perched high in the clouds. It is as fleeting and weightless as a dandelion’s remains, as delicate as a ballerina’s en pointe, and as vast as the cascade of dark violet mountains. In every crevice of the earth and every inch of our mouths, it waits to captures all of us with its power. It waits to put to rest all of our needless bitterness and folly, banter and noise, bends and fragmentations. It waits to heal all of our questions and brokenness and builds the bridge to voice the words left unsaid, the love still left to do.

Radical gratitude is one’s rebirth, a divine reverence of life.

If You Don't Understand the "Ratcho" Name

It's time for a new look!

Also, if you're puzzled as to why we call ourselves the "Ratchos" - don't forget about this story:

Click here for an explanation why...

I Knew It Before...

but I am just reminded that I am married to THE most amazing person.

He's made this experience complete with the most amazing homecoming.