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I absolutely adore reading. I can’t imagine a life without books. I find I’m drawn to narrative fiction and stories centered on the characters’ internal struggles with a mix of emotion and humor. And I’m totally embarrassed though not too proud to admit that I have a hard time keeping “fiction” and “non-fiction” straight in my mind.

Wait, which one is a true story?

And then I remember Jim Carrey saying, “Fiction CAAAN BE FUN! But I find the reference section much more enlightening,” in Ace Ventura Pet Detective and then I’m back on track. Dear God, please don’t let anyone from the University of Delaware admin office read this post as they will likely revoke my degree insisting I never actually took an English course.

Anyway, in case you’re in need of a good read here are some of my all time favorites:

The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien

Island Beneath the Sea by Isabel Allende

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

Life of Pi by Yann Martel

I’m always looking for a new book to read. So really, it’s only fair if you to post a favorite book of yours in the comments for me. I’ll also take an Ace Ventura quote. Or a gluten-free something delicious recipe. Thanks and Happy Reading!

I remember the cool hard tile that spanned the tiny width of my apartment bathroom. Once-white, tiny islands packed tightly together, covering the floor in a neat pattern that went on and on until they unexpectedly and awkwardly met the wall. That’s where my best friend, Marisa, found me and sat with me for far too long. I was sobbing. Inconsolably. About a failed relationship that I desperately hadn’t wanted to end. 8 years of failed relationships felt like an eternity of disappointment. Of course there was happiness in the mix but as I sat there crying, I could hear that space inside me where I tucked away my self-doubt and insecurities expand like too much air filling a tire.

Years later, when we were dating, I could hear it when Kosta and I argued. I could hear it in the empty space on a boring afternoon when we didn’t have much to say to each other. It nagged me. It whispered that what I had and gave and was just wasn’t enough, wasn’t right, wasn’t lovable.

Kosta proposed to me a year ago. The first words out of my mouth were “Is this for real?” – the insecurity bubbling out comically. I married Kosta that day in my heart. And then I let out a deep breath and willed those insecurities to vaporize. I imagined letting go of them and watching them drift away like an overeager bunch of balloons.

I do still have to remind myself when they try to sneak back in: There is no place for them in the life I plan to live.

I will always remember that day, crying in my tiny apartment bathroom with my best friend whose life is irrevocably grouted beside mine and expanding. On and on. But it’s a happy memory now, as is the thought of all of my failed relationships. What I remember most is the love of my best friend, my husband, and how their love has inspired me to love myself.

Kosta’s mom spent the month of October here in San Diego with us. As you know, I was beyond nervous to meet her. I’m still sort of amazed I didn’t blurt out, Hi! I’m Laura! I’m head over heels in love with your son. Please, Dear God, let me be good enough for you! when I met her. Her connecting flight from Los Angeles landed on the tarmac at the commuter airport. I stood there clinging to my purse watching each person dismount from the plane, trying to pick her out. I hadn’t seen a picture of her. Or talked to her on the phone. I had sent a few cards to Australia but that was it. And then we spotted her. She was carrying a cane, dressed all in black, and although she was pretty far away, she didn’t look particularly happy. She was the last person to climb down the ladder they rolled over to the tiny plane. As she got closer and caught sight of Kosta a spark ignited inside her. She just grinned as she walked the last 20 feet or so through the area that we were not allowed to enter. They hugged. Then I reached out to hug her. Instead of blurting out my undying love for her son, I said Welcome to San Diego, we’re so glad to have you here. in her ear. She smiled wide at me and thanked me. The rest was easy.

Exactly 5 days into our visit, as my Greek brother-in-law predicted, Kosta and his mother were at dinner alone while I was out on a photo shoot. She asked him why he hadn’t proposed to me yet. She balked at him and asked him if he honestly thought he would ever find a better girl? When Kosta told me the story as we lay in bed that night I laughed and let out a deep breath. I was good enough for Mom.