It's Liz Lemon

Prompt 12 — Write about my blessings

My true blessing as of late is my dachshund Baby and because of that, I decided to do today’s prompt a tad differently – from the point of view of Baby.

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I’m deep under the covers, snuggled against her for warmth when I hear our favorite song. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” It stirs me from my slumber; her voice, our song. I can’t resist as she hits the high note of ‘happy’, I join in. Muffled under the blankets, I work my way out — never losing my note — howling as I break out of the darkness and see her. She’s smiling, having stopped her singing. I continue, finishing off our song. Once finished, I drop down on the bed and stare at her. She’s tricked me awake with our song. I’m not mad, I realize, because today is another day I get to spend with her.

She hops out of bed. I stretch (she: big stretch for a little girl), and find my way to the edge. She doesn’t like me jumping off—something about my back—so she lifts me off and places me on the ground. I head down the stairs while she veers off to the bathroom. This is my time to check the main floor and make sure everything is the same as we left it last night. Once I conclude it is, I head for some water and as I do, she is there clicking on my collar. She takes me to pee. Today I’m hungry so we only go a block and back.

Back inside, she spoons me some breakfast, with an added treat. I eat and she goes around the house and opens it up. All the windows I can keep watch out of are clear for me to do so. She kisses me on my head and heads back up the stairs. I finish eating and jump on one of my three favorite spots—this morning the small couch with my red and white blanket in front of the one side window. I make sure nothing out of the ordinary is going on outside; there isn’t. I hear the water turn on upstairs, and the soothing noise means I can rest for a while.

She’s back downstairs. I hear the fridge open and close. I open my eyes, I see her by the TV, putting on her watch and glasses. She is now by me, giving me kisses—I love her kisses—and telling me I’m her favorite girl (as if I didn’t know that). It’s time for her to go to work, these days it’s in the room next to this one. I don’t complain, I love that she is home.

I doze off again. I dream about my grandparents. I dream about running around their big new house, walking around my Grandpops baseball card room—as security of course, and sitting on my Mom’s lap as Grandma bakes me homemade treats.

I must have been asleep for a while, it’s a lot lighter in the house when I wake. I hear her clicking away in the other room still. I stretch and decide she needs a break (and I need to pee and maybe poop). I make my way over to her, jumping on her, giving her kisses and then stare at her until she says the magic words (she: do you want to go outside?). I do circles around her because I do! She gets up—and takes longer than I would like to get ready (always with the winter coat, hat and gloves). I sit at the top of the stairs...waiting. She finally gets my leash and clicks me to it; opens the door and I am free. We only do a walk around the block (she: I need to get back and eat lunch before working again). That’s ok, I know our long walk is only a few hours away.

Back home, she eats lunch and I bask in my favorite sun spot. I’m asleep when I hear the wrapper—you know the CHEESE wrapper. She tries to open it slowly and quietly so I don’t hear, but I will always hear the CHEESE wrapper! I open my eyes and see the cheese. Decisions, decisions: warmth of the sun or cheese. Today, I choose sun, so I close my eyes and allow her the full piece of string cheese.

She’s back at her work area when I wake again. I hear her talking but it’s not in the voice she uses for me, so I turn to the window to see what’s happening outside. In the next short while I make my presence known to the Rogers—our neighbor Roger and the mailman Roger. I get a little louder—and run back and forth from couch to couch—when Roger the mailman appears. She tries to quiet me but I can’t…Roger is by our house now and I just don’t like that. I finally relax after he leaves and just watch the world move out there.

I start to get antsy; it must be almost time for our afternoon walk. She tries to coax a little extra time with treats and belly rubs, but it doesn’t work, I am ready to go now. She finally gives in. She puts everything back on, starts her watch, puts her ear buds in (that is new as of late), clicks me in once more and we are out!

It’s the long loop today. We pass the park, the ice cream shop (not open), go through another park, on a busy street, by a cemetery and a few good-smelling establishments. She gets mad at me a few times when I dilly dally but Vinny left me a message about being worried about his humans, so I had to leave him a response. Willow left one about her younger brother Otis, Otis left one about his older sister Willow (siblings, am I right?!) and so did a few others. It takes time to sniff each message and then respond. Luckily, it’s nice out so she gives me more leeway today.  

We arrive home sooner than I want (she: we went 3.5 miles, that is long enough). She gives me my favorite treat when we are inside and dishes out dinner and some new water. I’m solely focused on my treat and dinner for the next while, so I don’t mind she is back at her work chair, and later, on the couch with her dinner. I join her just to say hi when I am done with my dinner. I snuggle against her and lick her hands—to tell her I love her and to rid her of the leftover dinner juices. She pulls out her phone and turns the TV on, which is my clue it’s time for my evening nap on my morning couch.

I wake knowing it is almost bed time, she knows too. We both get up and we take one last walk around the neighborhood. We return home, she opens a journal to write in and turns on Matchbox Twenty radio (the journaling has her nostalgic). I am lulled to sleep again. I startle sometime later with her movement. I watch as she closes down the house. Once her nightly routine is done, she heads to me. This is my favorite time. She gives me kisses upon kisses (she: love you to the moon and back) and I turn over for my belly rubs. She obliges. After five minutes of this, she pats me and says ‘let’s go’. I jump off the couch, do a few stretches and ear and bum scratches, before racing her upstairs.

I take the ramp onto our bed. She goes to the bathroom. I wait for her in her spot. She finally comes to bed. I get a few more kisses and a massage before I kiss her goodnight and she lifts the cover. I take my place, snuggled against her belly. I stick close—she has been tossing and turning more and more since being home full time—so I want to give her comfort. I listen for her breath to steady and when it finally does, I stretch out and let myself drift off.

So I did a thing.

The thing is crazy to many, normal to others. For me, it was needed and originally hard, but ultimately became easy and exactly what I needed.

What was the thing? I went on a TV detox for the month of December. Yep, no watching television. Which included anything that could be played on the flat screen in my house or streamed on my computer or iPhone. So, no regular channel surfing, no Netflix or Hulu, and absolutely no watching sports…for 31 days.

I can’t exactly explain why I decided to turn off the television for a month but after binging a full season of Sugar Rush Christmas and staring at my TBR (to-be-read) pile—that stood at nearly 20—I woke on December 1 determined to go the full month without zoning out to television.

I didn’t think it would be too hard. I only have the one television in my house; I don’t have one in my bedroom or the kitchen. I don’t wake up and turn it on while getting ready. I like sound—think fans, heat vents, washer and dryers, and airplanes—but not noise. I drive to work in silence 99 percent of the time and I usually prefer reading without any background noise.

I quickly found out it would be harder than I thought.

Finding things to fill the days and hours (651 hours to be exact)—that didn’t include the old standby of television—was an adjustment. (Truth time: the first day I broke down and turned the Green Bay Packers game on. I did turn it on late in the first quarter, fell asleep by the second quarter and woke up in the fourth; so I am still claiming a full month without TV!).

I started to adjust though and besides having the television on for my adorable 8-year old Dachshund Baby while I was at work, I never again turned it on for myself.

I filled my time reading books, listening to music and scrolling through social media (couldn’t curb that habit).  

I’d love to tell you that the month helped me to be more social...I mean, If I could cut out television for a month I surely could go on one date, right? Not so much; I am still who I am after all.

The month away from television, did however, help me in other ways. I started to notice I wasn’t stewing about work as much and the ‘Sunday Scaries’ weren’t as scary. I was more engaged with Baby, giving her more play time and longer walks—when the Wisconsin weather allowed—and found time to bake for the holidays.  

What I enjoyed most about the month were the books I read. I love reading but prior to my TV detox, I was struggling to get into any book. In December, that changed, and I consumed 10 books. The pages of these books took me to many different places, had me laughing, had me in full out tears more than once and gave me characters I still don’t want to give up or leave.

Ultimately, December allowed me to find my passion for reading again and helped me remember the fulfillment it gives me.

A new month started today and I did turn on the television. Nothing earth shattering happened when I did. It is nice to have the option to binge whatever I want or watch my favorite sports teams again. 

But here is the thing. I am already itching to open another book and meet new characters. So, the TV is off again and I’m diving into Sold on a Monday.      

Thanks December. I owe you one.

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The 10 books I read in December were part of the 29 I read in 2019. Below are a look at the books I read, in case you are looking to add to your TBR pile!  

Favorite books

Before We Were Yours, by Lisa Wingate

Bringing Down the Duke, by Evie Dunmore

Daisey Jones & The Six, by Taylor Jenkins Reid

The Giver of Stars, by Jojo Moyes

This Tender Land, by William Kent Krueger

Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens

Well Met, by Jen DeLuca

Worthy reads

Dear Edward, by Ann Napolitano

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, by Gail Honeyman

How Not to Die Alone, by Richard Roper

How to Walk Away, by Katherine Center

Lock Ever Door, by Riley Sager

Normal People, by Sally Rooney

One Day in December, by Josie Silver

The Good Daughter, by Karin Slaughter

The Last Time I Lied, by Riley Sager

The Rest of the Story, by Sarah Dessen

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, by Taylor Jenkins Reid

The Silent Patient, by Alex Michaelides

The Tattooist of Auschwitz, by Heather Morris

Enjoyed but not as much as the others

If Only I Could Tell You, by Hannah Beckerman

Necessary People, by Anna Pitoniak

Nothing to See Here, by Kevin Wilson

Things to Save in a Fire, by Katherine Center

The Lies We Told, by Camilla Way

The Proposal, by Jasmine Gulliory

The Wife Between Us, by Greer Hendricks

The Winter Sister, by Megan Collins

home

Noun: a house, apartment, or shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family or household

Growing up home for me was on 48th Street in Milwaukee. It was a 3-bedroom house that fit our six-person family well enough. A garden was a staple of its backyard, the front yard held more pickle games than I can count, and the garage door took a beating from many a soccer ball.

The television never included cable channels, it had a bathtub—and not a shower—for longer than I’d like, the kitchen usually smelled of baked goods, and dinner happened together at the dining room table.

I biked or walked to friends’ houses in the neighborhood, bought baseball cards and garbage pail kids from the gas station mere blocks away, swam at the local pool and frequented the local library.

It held conversations and arguments. It allowed me a space to cry, and room to laugh. It was filled with love and safety.

It’s a place I still return to today and a place I searched a long time to replicate.

I finally found it on Doty Street in Oshkosh.

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When I left home after graduating college to jump into the real world, I blazed along the road less traveled. It was a four-state, nine apartment, 14-year journey of self-discovery.  

It was a time of independence and growth. It was about new experiences and new friendships. It gave me strength and a voice.

But it never felt like I was home.

I loved every place I lived and the people that peppered my heart along the way, I just never felt settled in those places.

More than likely that was the by-product of my age, relationship status and career path during that span. I was always on the go. ‘Home’ during those 14 years was the office, basketball arena, football stadium, airplane and hotel room. My apartment was a place to catch up on sleep, shower and vedge out.

I never truly invested in the community or engaged with my neighbors. I’d like to say I didn’t have the time, but truthfully, I didn’t take the time.

Until Oshkosh.

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Most thought I was crazy when I decided to buy a house straight away after accepting the new position at the University of Wisconsin Oshkosh and moving to Oshkosh. And after looking at 12-plus houses, I too started to think I was crazy (and I am pretty sure my relator did as well).

They were too big, too small, they had this but not that. I started questioning my possible fear of commitment [we’ll dive into that in another blog].

Then on my lunch break one day in mid-July a little over three years ago I walked into the Doty house and instantly knew.  

The built-ins with the bench seating in the dining room brought back fond memories of my grandparents’ house growing up. The original wood floors and woodwork were to die for. The enclosed front porch and the walk-in closet in the master bedroom, well they just sealed the deal.

I felt it, it was the house I wanted.

With the ease of settling into my house—no second guessing or cold feet there, it was time to invest into the community.

I joined Kiwanis, met some great people and volunteered around town.

I slowly came out of my introverted shell and waved to and then chatted-up the neighbors.

I talked EAA, jammed at Waterfest and pointed people to Hughes.

I became a local.

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home

Noun: the place in which one’s domestic affections are centered

My home is a 3-bedroom, one bath house on Doty Street in Oshkosh. It includes the pitter patter of an eight-year old dachshund named Baby, too many books, plenty of pictures to remember my journey and still no cable television.

It hums of trains and buzzes of both lake flies and planes. It smells of chocolate and plays the tunes of a sock hop. It includes cheese curds, mini doughnuts, crab ragoon’s—and maybe an occasional Bloody Mary—from the farmers market and a rhubarb pie from a local staple.

There is the pride of both the Green and Gold and the Black and Gold.

There is a camaraderie of neighbors after a big winter snowstorm hits and an excitement to see each other after a long winter hibernation.

It’s squeals of joy when the neighborhood children see Baby and its reciprocated tail wag and so many kisses when Baby gets to see her little friends.

There’s Vinny, Seymore, Cooper, Otis, Willow, Stella and Holly; and many other dogs and their humans.  

It includes girls weekends, happy hours, super clubs, and walks on Terrell’s Island and the Wiawash Trail and one pretty great book club.

It’s not tied to my job.

I think our phones listen to us.

Maybe even watch us.

I’m dead serious.

No really, they do.

And although it freaks me out to think about it, I have my phone to thank for losing 65 pounds.

It changed my life.

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I was overweight, like way overweight.

No need to rehash how I got there. I was there; teetering on 225 pounds.  

Yep, a former athlete, who worked in athletics was over 200 pounds.

Not ideal.

I had quit my many-Mountain Dews-a-day habit a few months prior and was walking my adorable Dachshund Baby nearly three miles a day but no weight was coming off. I think I was actually still gaining weight.

I didn’t talk much to anybody about it. (How do you talk when you are so embarrassed by the way you look?). Once or twice I mentioned to my Mom I was surprised I hadn’t lost any weight.  I guess those small conversations were enough for my ‘listening’ phone because early last September I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and an ad for Weight Watchers showed up; FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER.  

I don’t know what made me click on the ad, but I did. I took the next few hours to read about Weight Watchers; reviews, testimonials, everything. After contemplating for the next day (we Smith’s can be cheap), I took the leap and decided it was time to make a change.

Thanks for that iPhone 8.

Now, it’s not like the moment I became a Weight Watchers member my life was instantly better. Quite the contrary; it became overwhelming before it became better.  

No more laziness, no more excuses, it was time to be accountable to myself. And get rid of Lucky Charms for dinner (because it would be 14 of my 23 total points)? Overwhelming.

To be honest, I didn’t think I could do it. But I stayed the course and started to lose weight…10 20 and then 30.  

When I started to really lose the weight, I had a friend who would say ‘If I die tomorrow, I want to die fat and happy’.

I got what she was saying. But here’s the thing, if I died tomorrow, I too wanted to be happy…and I wasn’t.

And the unhappiness wasn’t just about the weight, the weight was a byproduct of the unhappiness.

I decided to ‘Let go and just live’.

Of what? Do you know what society thinks of a single 42-year old female who doesn’t have kids? They are less than, there must be a problem with them, they don’t know as much as others. I could go on.

Now add to that your own biological clock. Goodness.

Now add to all that, being an introvert and homebody who’d rather read and be with her dog than out with lots of people. And one that was overweight.

I had to find a way to be ok with who I was.

So as I started to shed the pounds, I too started to shed my weight.

‘Let go and just live’.

So here is who I am.

A (now) healthy 42-year old, who owns my own house—putting 20% down by the way—and whose love of my life is my dog Baby. I am reserved but am fiercely loyal to my small group of friends and my family. I love to read, go for walks and eat pizza. My mom is my best friend.

I get anxious, I don’t do well with big crowds, I can be a curmudgeon and get lonely at times. Life can be hard for me, and I do have down days.

I don’t know if I will ever get married and I don’t believe I will have kids.

I am not less than.

I am Liz.

And I am on my way to happy.

I have been blessed.

Yes, I know it is the most overused phrase of the moment but, I have been. I have been blessed. Or I guess you could say I have been privileged; I just have lived a pretty unique life when it comes to my profession. 

When others are screaming at the television – or running around their living room - when some crazy ending happens in a game, I have been able to be in the locker room and experience the emotion and celebrate with that team who hit the buzzer beater. When others hearts sink after their team’s season ends in a playoff, I have held back tears in a hallway when the seniors – whose careers just came to an end - realized it was their last time playing with their teammates and broke down walking to their final press conference.

I have flown on private planes more times than I can remember, I have stepped foot in nearly all 50 states – and as many or more basketball arenas, I have attended a WNBA Draft and watched both Oklahoma and Texas run onto the field for the history-soaked Red River Rivalry from the highest point of the stadium. I even have rented the house John Stockton raised his family in.  

None of it compares to what I experienced Friday. NOTHING.  

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Let me back this story up just a little before I get to why.

Nearly 17 months ago, I quit my job, without knowing what I was going to do next. When I quit, I told myself – and was pretty adamant - I would never work in athletics again.

I was burnt out. I hated sports. I lost the love.

Four months ago my respite - as I called it - came to an end and I started working again. Doing what? Marketing for the athletics department at the University of Wisconsin Oshkosh.  

I was still hesitant when I started. Could I let myself love sports again? Was I still good at what I did?

I’ll give you another overused phrase for the answer: things happen for a reason.  

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It’s been a world wind of a four-months here at UWO. Acclimating to a new university, trying to churn out projects - with some sort of efficiency – all the while working to build relationships with my co-workers, which includes Titan football head coach Pat Cerroni.

It was Coach Cerroni who made the most profound day ever happen on Friday. 

Coach Cerroni called me over a month ago saying ‘We are bringing Phoenix Bridegroom and her family to Oshkosh. I don’t need your tears; I need you to just knock this out of the park.’ [Add a few of your favorite swear words to Cerroni’s quote and you get the real conversation.]  

So for a month, a group of women – yep, we run the world – worked tirelessly to make the meeting between Brett Kasper, Titan quarterback and bone marrow donor, and Phoenix Bridegroom, cancer survivor and bone marrow recipient, perfect.

Let me tell you, it was perfect.

Have you ever been in a room when a family nervously waits to meet the young man who saved their daughter’s life? Have you been able to watch two families embrace after so much time? I will honestly tell you, I didn’t want to be – that was a private moment not for me to see – but I was and that moment I witnessed can only change you.

The moment had nothing to do with sports; it wasn’t about touchdown throws or playoff hopes, it was simply about what is good in the world. People helping people, people doing more and people inspiring others to be better and do better.

Simply, a family saying thank you to their hero.

And as I sat in the press box – between media obligations mere hours later - playing rock-paper-scissors with Phoenix, the greatest 10-year old I have met, and two ‘run the world’ women, I couldn’t help but take a moment and realize I too have finally found my match.

My match is Oshkosh, Wisconsin; and it is UWO. It fits me perfectly.

Plain and simple, I am a bookworm, or as others say, a book nerd. It was a later-in-life obsession, not really developed until college and my soccer cleats were about to be stored for good. I plucked Hurricane: The Life of Rubin Carter from a rummage sale and so began my love for non-fiction. After all books on Rubin Carter had been consumed and Bob Dylan’s song by the same name wore out its welcome, it continued to anything John Feinstein (The Last Amateurs winning top honors) and highlighted at its peak by A Million Little Pieces by James Fray – although the non in that non-fiction was smashed into ‘a million little pieces’ memorably on Oprah.

It was Jodi Picoult that really changed everything for me though. My mother – a Librarian - handed me Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper on our drive to my brother Matt’s wedding in Kansas and by the time we arrived in Kansas from Wisconsin my mind was blown, my allegiance had switched to fiction and my book obsession was in full effect.

I, of course, went on to find and read all of Picoult’s books – I’m obsessive like that - and still, to this day, add the release dates of her upcoming books to my calendar. (Note to all Picoult’s lovers: New book out Oct. 11 called Small Great Things) 

Many other authors have joined the ranks of Picoult: Sarah Dessen, Anna McPartlin, Anita Shrieve, Lisa Scottoline, Liza Palmer, Chevy Stevens and Barbara O’Neal. And more recently: Jojo Moyes, Liane Moriarty and Jennifer Weiner.

So when my Respite began this summer, my to-do list looked something like this: 1. Read. 2. Read some more. 3. Read just a little more. 4. Talk to other humans. 5. Look for job. (Yes, I have moved No. 5 up the list – A. To help accomplish No. 4. B. Get out of my parents hair).

And because I still have a little time on my hands - and arguably love to talk books as much or more as sports - I thought I would share some of my favorite books I have read recently.

Disclaimer: I enjoy ‘chick-lit’ (although I hate that it is called that) and Young Adult. DEAL WITH IT!      

Three Wishes, Liane Moriarty.

Okay, to be completely honest, I went ‘obsessive’ with her, much like Picoult. I was introduced to her books by a friend this past summer – thanks Susie Maier – and read Three Wishes first. Want to know how much I liked it? My tweets during this reading:

Tweet 1: Not ashamed to admit I just sat & read for 8 straight hours. What I am ashamed about is how unhappy I am I had to stop to charge the Nook.

Tweet 2: I keep looking at the Nook & contemplating being that person who sits by the outlet (which would be under a desk) to use their electronic.

Tweet 3: I mean I should be able to take a break for an hour? Eat, watch TV, talk to the ‘rents? Nope, I am giving the Nook 20 more mins to charge.

Tweet 4: Forty-seven percent will do. Back to finishing Liane Moriarty’s ‘Three Wishes’.

Tweet 5: Update, Nook was a trooper; finished book by 12:28 a.m. Giving it a rest today, instead will take a shower, talk to other humans, leave house.

I told you I am obsessive.

I can’t really choose a favorite of hers. Three Wishes stands out because it was my first foray into Moriarty’s books. Just trust me that none will disappoint. Here are the others I read by her recently: The Last Anniversary, What Alice Forgot, The Husbands Secret, The Hypnotist’s Love Story, Big Little Lies (FYI: This is being made into a limited series on HBO with the likes of Reese Witherspoon, Nicole Kidman, Shailene Woodley).

Me Before You, Jojo Moyes.

Me to Emily Mattson - #TGFFWR (Thank Goodness For Friends Who Read).

Me Before You is my favorite book of the Respite. I couldn’t put it down. I read in one day and - may I add - looked like a hot mess when I was finished (Small favors for living alone). Talk about emotional and heart wrenching!

I do enjoy a good love story and even more so the ‘unlikely’ love story, which this book had. You’ll love the characters Jojo Moyes brings to life in this book and will be left thinking about life’s choices long after you put the book down. (This book also was made into a movie and will be out June 3!).  

Similar to Liane Moriarty, I hadn’t read anything by JoJo Moyes prior to Me Before You but have since devoured The Ship of Brides, Silver Bay, One Plus One and After You, the sequel to Me Before You.    

A Man Called Ove, Federik Beckman 

Thanks to the twitter suggestion by @marekcornett I found A Man Called Ove. It was written by a Swedish writer and translated into English seamlessly. It had me laughing and crying at the exact same moment. The main character is called a curmudgeon + I have been called a curmudgeon = How could I not enjoy this book? Quick synopsis: about unlikely friendship, definition of family isn’t always about blood relation, and don’t judge a book by its cover.    

Emmy & Oliver by Robin Benway and Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

These two books are similar in the sense that they both are about first love, friendship, family and the bumps along the way. I liked Emmy & Oliver a little better and here is the hilarious reason why: it reminded of my former interns at the University of Oklahoma. The way Robin Benway wrote was identical to how my favorite interns talked. It was uncanny how she depicted the 18-22 year-old dialect. So while reading the book I pictured each character as a one of my student-interns. It made for a pretty great read.

We Were Liars, E. Lockhart.

The author has sworn me to secrecy. I am telling the truth though, it is a must read.

What She Knew, Gilly Macmillan.

I am usually not good with thrillers, mostly because I don’t have the patience to wait to find out who did it. I waited this time and boy did it pay off. This book is about a mother who lets her child run ahead at the park – as any mother might do with their eight-year old boy – and the repercussions after the boy goes missing. The story is told by two points of view: the mother and the detective that was in charge of the case. It kept me guessing until the end.    

Here are a few other books I have enjoyed recently (in no particular order):

The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes, Anna McPartlin.

The Girl on the Train, Paula Hawkins.

The Meryl Streep Movie Club, Mia March.

Finding Colin Firth, Mia March.

The Firelight Girls, Kaya McLauren.

The Luckiest Girl Alive, Jessica Knoll.

Girl Before A Mirror, Liza Palmer.

The Next Best Thing, Jennifer Weiner.

Fly Away Home, Jennifer Weiner.

If You Only Knew, Kristan Higgins.

See Me, Nicholas Sparks.

The Royal We, Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan.

The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend, Katarina Bivald.

Fates and Furies, Lauren Groff.

All the Rage, Courtney Summers.

Ok, um, hmm…here is the deal. I quit my job two months ago…without a job prospect in sight.

Yep, at thirty-eight, I realized I hit the ‘burn-out’ stage of working in college athletics – which I totally thought was a myth, it isn’t – so quit my job, packed and stored my belongings – after sending off a few care packages of my beloved books around the US – and drove from Oklahoma to my hometown of Milwaukee, Wisconsin and moved back in with my parents.

I’ll give you a minute to pick your jaw off the ground…

Guess what? I am HAPPY, really happy.

Please don’t get me wrong, I loved and am so thankful for the 14 years I worked in college athletics. I would never trade those years, the people I met, the games I was able to witness and the places I was able to travel. But, the constant travel and the long hours started taking their toll as did the perpetual handcuff to my laptop – I can’t tell you how many times I wrote a game recap or press release while out to dinner with friends at a restaurant table. (“Excuse me miss, where can I put your plate,” asks the waiter/waitress. “At the end of the table please, I’ll get to it shortly,” I answer as I feverishly click the keys on my laptop.)

I realized I didn’t have a work-life balance anymore I just had work.

It has taken me a long while to understand and accept that I am not lazy nor will I be deemed a sub-par worker because I don’t want to put in an 80-hour workweek – every week – or because I want a house, a dog – that will be named Mighty by the way - and weekends free. I want to be impactful in my profession but I also want and deserve a life. And I finally took the steps to try an achieve this.

Is it scary to do the unconventional? Absolutely! Has doubt crept in, as the months tick by, that maybe employers won’t see past my ‘athletic’ experience? Sure. Am I confident that I made the right decision? YES, YES, and one more YES.

My journey since I graduated from college has been unique and unconventional – hello four states, three time zones, five jobs, and eight different apartments - so I can’t not believe that the right path, right next step, right job is right around the corner.  

In the meantime, I have had two months – handcuffs free – to spend and reconnect with my parents, my family and my hometown. I went to my first Brewer’s game in 10 years, took the train to Chicago to meet up with friends, traveled to Madison for ‘girls day’ with aunts and cousins, hung out for a week with my nephews, took walks by Lake Michigan and on the Hank Aaron Trail. I have even volunteered with my mom a few times with Saint Vincent De Paul, read so many books – We Were Liars people, you need to read! - and am eagerly awaiting a weekend at Milwaukee Irish Fest.

I’ve called it (f)unemployment. In reality, it’s been a beautiful respite. One I truly needed.

Plain and simple, I love watching a women’s basketball game at the McCarthey Athletic Center.

I’ve known for a while that it is something special and unique but I was reminded more and more about it this past month when we – Gonzaga women’s basketball – were on the road playing seven of nine West Coast Conference games. And maybe it wasn’t so much while we were on the road, but when we returned to the Kennel this week.

The biggest crowd we played in front of during the exhausting stretch was 700ish – 400 of which were Zag fans – and the smallest was a little more than 300. 

In reality it is nothing new to me.

I have been with Gonzaga, and making these treks, for eight basketball seasons now. I have also been in the business for four other basketball seasons – two with Longwood University, when they were transitioning to NCAA Division I, and two with Robert Morris University – where in the two years the team won six games.

The crowds were never anything spectacular, a few hundred was a good day.

Don’t get me wrong; I still loved it. The players played as hard as the next and the fans that did attend were so committed to the squad and proud supporters.

But man, was I blown away when I first arrived on Gonzaga’s campus – in what seems like a lifetime ago now. It was like my hopes and wants for women’s basketball – and the deserving athletes I covered at RMU and LU – came true.

And ok, the dreams of a former Division II women’s soccer student-athlete whose desire was for women sports in general to be respected and loved.

Boy did I find that at Gonzaga.

In the early years of my tenure, the Zags averaged a couple thousand – still pretty impressive to me but so meager to what it has become now.

Just look at this past two-game homestretch. The first game – the Bulldogs first home contest in 19 days - saw 6,000 show up; the first sellout of the season for Gonzaga. And the second had 5,476 in attendance. That’s THOUSANDS folks. (For comparison reference, there is a Division I team out there they averages 89 fans a game).

And it isn’t just the vast number that impresses me. It is just how active and involved the fans are. Doors open an hour and a half before tip and you have droves entering the building. We give a specific t-shirt color to wear – on social media, in email blasts – and they no doubt are wearing said color (lets not talk about the year we didn’t give specific t-shirt colors – hint, fans were NOT HAPPY).

The fans are intelligent too; when the team needs a spark of energy, they are on their feet instantaneously, they see a beautiful fast break assist-to-layup from Haiden Palmer to Kiara Kudron or watch Jazmine Redmon force nearly two jump balls each game with her fantastic defense and they are making noise once again.

Don’t get me started on the support they give our walk-on when she enters the game. There are moments during each game that draw so much emotion out of me because of the fans (I try to play it off that I am tough but inside tidbit: I cry at commercials – no lie).

• Lights off, intro video playing and the fans on their feet – gives me chills each time. • Lindsay Sherbert drains a 3-pointer Saturday to help Zags break the century mark for the first time. Game has a little over one minute to play and makes it a 37-point lead. No matter; fans all on their feet, waving their arms, the octave level reaches it’s highest for the whole game. Chills, and maybe a little teary-eyed (I may deny it though). • Walk-on scores first collegiate point sinking a free throw Thursday. Crowd goes bonkers – makes me do a fist pump.

I am grateful everyday for the fans that support and believe in the players – and support women’s basketball. Sometimes I wish I could let them know how much it means to these athletes and how much they impact them (and have impacted me).

Maybe skywrite it? Maybe Stephanie Golden can put together a ‘Dance Recipe of Thanks’?

I’ll definitely have to keep brainstorming but for now the best option I can come up with is for Gonzaga to keep winning [especially at home] for them and because of them.

It always amazes me how fast a new season arrives. And no, not a season as in the-leaves-changing-color-to-distinguish-summer-to-fall but an athletic season. Yep, most people distinguish time by fall, winter, spring, summer while for me, or anybody who works in athletics, our time is told by what sport is in session.  

The sport that is now in session for me is women’s basketball.

I swear I just decompressed from its 2012-13 campaign yesterday and came to terms with another senior class leaving the program and university when the official practice date arrived for 2013-14.  

As quickly as it ended, it seems just as quickly it has begun once again.

I’m entering my eighth season with the women’s basketball program. A long time for me, who had never seen a freshman class graduate – leaving my job every two years – before Gonzaga sucked me in.

This year’s 3-person senior class will be my fourth.

Funny how during the season wins and loses are top on the docket but during that time you become invested in the student-athletes, not only how they are succeeding on the court but how they evolve as a person.

Don’t get me wrong, I am filled with memories – which evoke so many emotions – when thinking of this programs success on the floor; its first NCAA Tournament bid, the ‘Shot’ that allowed the team to reach the Sweet Sixteen for the first time, Courtney Vandersloot scoring her 2,000th point and the amazing atmosphere in the Spokane Arena during the Elite Eight game but having gotten to see each fresh face freshman blossom over their four years – and sometimes five years – has been a gift.

It became more apparent for me this week how much I value seeing the growth and success of the student-athletes that walk the halls of the McCarthey Athletic Center and Martin Centre when Vandersloot arrived back on campus for a 48-hour visit.

The four years Vandersloot was on campus was a whirlwind; I don’t know how many interviews I had – forced – her to do; how many daily text reminders for said interviews I sent and lets not forget the 14-day roadtrip together to the Final Four and WNBA Draft. 

Suffice it to say, I was a nuisance but while I was a nuisance a friendship grew. So it was a joy to have her back on campus. Not only because we were able to catch up; talk about what has been going on and reminisce about the past, but because it also brought so many others back and together. The current team seemed to enjoy having her at practice; former teammates once again roamed the hallways with each other - still looking the same just a little bit older and wiser - and smiles were aplenty. 

Those 48-hours reemphasized why I have stayed for so long – FAMILY. This may be my profession but it is also my family away from my family. 

Yes, the game can end in a tie. Yes, you can only use your feet unless you’re a goalkeeper. No, I don’t think fewer players would make it more interesting. No, that’s not what offsides is. Yes, I will defend soccer till I am blue in the face.

Soccer has been a big passion of mine since I was five and was finally able to join my older siblings on what now is referred to as the ‘pitch’ and was the ‘field’ in the Milwaukee Recreation League. 

The sport blossomed from recreation to select soccer for me; from state championships to college scholarship; from hanging up the cleats and a loss of identity to coming full circle and learning to love it even more from the press box (couch, sidelines, stadium).

Thirty-one years after toe-poking the ball for the first time and I can’t think of life without soccer in it. 

There were days and even years though after my playing career was over that juggling the ball - that always loitered around my room - or watching a game – high school, collegiate or professional – was a struggle.

I liked being the girl who wore her jersey to school on game days with the rest of the team during high school; I loved the feeling I got when I stepped onto the field and served long balls with a teammate; I loved when I trapped the ball perfectly with the inset of my foot and it dropped right in front of me; I loved surprising people with my left foot and I really, really loved slide tackling in the rain [and snow].

I believed that soccer defined me; it was my identity, it was what I was good at. And when it was over, I didn’t know who I was without it and I didn’t believe I had anything else to offer. 

I’m pretty sure that is why I work in college athletics. When the final whistle blew on my playing career, I wasn’t ready to leave the biggest part of my life behind.

Funny thing is, I worked in my profession for nearly 10 years before I became the main media relations contact for a women’s soccer team. Well, I covered women’s soccer when I was a graduate assistant early in my career, but covering 18 of the 21 sports during those two years, along with graduate school didn’t allow much devoted time to any of the sports.

Soccer was still prominent in my life. Indoor soccer was on the docket every Sunday when I moved to Spokane, until bad knees and old age forced me to retire (and maybe a few altercations with the referees). I watched every World Cup game the US played in – that included 3 a.m. wake-up calls and bothering aunts and uncles who had ESPN, because my parents didn’t and still don’t have cable, and even helped coach a U7 team for a short period. 

Sadly, I didn’t catch many of the games that were played just 200 yards from my office.  I can rationalize why – when you work the hours I do, any day or night off is needed even if it means missing other games going on - but in some truth, I was keeping a distance/disconnect with that sport.

Three seasons ago that all changed.

A bit of a bumpy road between my then-current graduate assistant and the women’s soccer staff had me jumping in and taking over midseason. I didn’t see it as long term; I was juggling them and women’s volleyball and my mindset was that our new graduate assistant would take it back the next summer.

Despite the chaos of that fall, the strangest thing happened; I loved being around the program. I enjoyed watching the team play, enjoyed talking soccer with the coaching staff; I became invested in the success of the team.

Yep, I had the Oprah ‘ah hah’ moment; I realized I could have collegiate soccer in my life and I could use the other talents I finally accepted that I had [mostly writing] to give back to the sport and the players.

Funny how a bad situation can turn into a monumental moment in life.

I am now in my second season working fulltime with the women’s soccer program and have yet to bust out my Umbro shorts or Copa Mundial cleats – think they will stay hidden for good – but have gotten just as much joy watching these student-athletes – who are exactly like me 15 years later - succeed on the pitch.

I never thought I would leave Wisconsin. It had everything I wanted; most importantly my large family - mom, dad, two brothers and a sister, along with so many aunts, uncles and cousins. I went to college in Wisconsin - only 45 minutes from my parents -  was a Cheesehead; cheered for Bucky and the Warriors (prior to becoming the Golden Eagles). I was a homebody, looked forward to Friday night grocery shopping trips with Mom and Packer Sunday's in front of our 18 inch TV with the family. And I am the baby of the family who balled her eyes out when I left for college - again only 45 minutes from home.

I don't think leaving Wisconsin not only didn't cross my mind but didn't cross anybody's mind in my family.

I now haven't been a Wisconsinite for 12 years. 

An internship with the Pennsylvania State Athletic Conference in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania took me away from the Dairyland and stops in Virginia and Washington have kept me from the Midwest and evaporated that distinct accent that easily told new acquaintances where I was from. 

After all these years, I still miss Wisconsin. I miss my family every day - don't think that is every going to go away - and I love visiting as much as I can. I miss people knowing what a bubbler is and those who celebrate St. Nick's. I don't miss the humidity one bit or the windchill off the lake during winter though.  

Despite missing my home state, I am thankful for the journey that has happened since leaving a dozen years ago. I have been able to travel to 41 of the 50 states (and hoping to cross them all off in the years to comes). I have been able to meet an array of people - many who have helped me grow as a person and many who I now consider family. I have learned I am stronger than I thought but that life will never be easy.

My journey is where this blog comes in. I guess you could say I write for a living - mostly about college athletics - and have for awhile wanted to write about surviving on my own and away from home. This blog will be the stories that go on behind the final score, about building a family away from home, what happens on 'No Sports Sunday's', and many other odds and ends.