Shockingly, Not About Flip Flops

"You've got too many shoes. And look, half of them are flip flops. How many pairs of flip flops can you wear at once?"

"I'm not answering that."

"I bet you could wear one pair each day all summer and not repeat once."

"I bet not."


"I'm not sure I've seen you without them, actually. Do you sleep in flip flops?"

"No... but I'm not sure I sleep. I don't think I've slept all summer."

And just about all of me feels that.

I think it's important, with all this happiness talk lately, that I remind myself (if not, everyone else) how incredibly exhausted I am if I let myself stop long enough to think about it. Even when I try to sleep, I can't. There's so much to do, so much to worry about.

I know better than to think it's anything but a phase. A phase I've no doubt been in before. I think, apparently blinded by being happy and grateful, I've filled the plate a little too full. Maybe setting end of summer goals or already planning for next year has not served me well. Just because it seems like preparing doesn't mean you're prepared now. At least not prepared to deal with it.

A huge contributor to this feeling, I think, is having my nephew around. Not to say I'm with him constantly and not to say that his mother isn't infinitely better at washing the dishes, talking on the phone, and pulling his hands out of the electrical outlets all at once, because she is, but I feel like after a lifetime of no one ever having really tried, this kid is kicking my ass. (And mom, when you read that I typed "ass" on my blog, just remember it took you a year and a half to start reading this and if ass is the worse thing you see from here on out consider yourself lucky. Might I suggest you never go into the archives.) Since my sister and her child, The One Whom Shall Never Need Caffeine, arrived, I've been able to see them every day. Yes, this is odd in itself because there are other things I should be doing every day that I can't manage but when it comes to rolling around in the grass or throwing a metal bowl against the wall because it makes that hilarious noise EVERY TIME, well I have no problem finding time for that.

Sometimes my "auntily duties" consist of nothing more than turning on the radio (kid loves to dance and sing) while other times, they're decidedly more challenging like pushing fifty pounds of kid and jogger stroller up a hill. Or wiping his face, an act in which my jaw is usually on the floor because his head can turn 360 degrees without moving his body. The entire time, no matter what we're doing, I'm having a great time. Thrilled with the concept of being part of his life and him mine, all the while basking in the glow of the idea that I get to give him back.

Which I do. Usually.

Then I leave, drive home or wherever, and generally hit a wall. Suddenly, I feel like I've run a marathon and instead of being allowed to recover, rehydrate and celebrate, I have to go back to normal life. I have to walk the dog and fold laundry when all I really want to do is collapse. And drink. Each time, the same thought comes to mind: How do parents do it?

I honestly do not know. Perhaps you adapt? I've heard some mothers say "the energy just comes to you." I cannot imagine, and I have quite the imagination.

The best conclusion I've got, the nearest I can tell, is that you are motivated. Something, be it the cuteness or the automatic sense of parental responsibility, or nap time, must keep you going.
I might be biased, but I think that cuteness factor would be huge for me.

I told her we all have those moments

My sister, always the athletic one, wants to start running again. She asked me to help her, to get her into some training. Maybe motivate her a little. (This is how we know we're grown up. She can ask for help, I can give it, and we both come out alive.)

So today, after my long run, I met up with her and we did a little "trial run." She needs some time to get acclimated, not just to running again but to living at six thousand feet. When you run here and you just start out, you are pretty sure your lungs are going to burst into flames. It takes a couple weeks to adapt to that- the feeling doesn't go away, but you get used to it.

We set out for three miles today, with planned walk breaks. We made it through a half mile, she was still smiling. We walked a bit, and then ran another half mile. I stood there, beaming at her with pride. A new or returning runner is always so exciting, but when it's your sister [and you're me] it's all you can do to not jump up and cheer her on with pom poms.

"You just did something 99% of people cannot do," I told her, as we took another short walk break.

"What?" she asked me, while she gulped her water.

"Most people on this planet cannot run one mile. How do you feel?"

"Dumber than most people on the planet, to tell you the truth."

This is going to be great!

__________________________________________

Thanks so much to everyone who commented and emailed regarding my last post. I know that by and large, everyone I ever "know" here or anywhere else on Earth is great and sometimes, there are exceptions. It makes me appreciate you all more, that's for sure.

Between you all and being able to look at this little face everyday, I have no worries. Life is good.

Why Things Between Siblings Will Always Be Unique

If you have siblings you know that of everyone in the world, they probably know you best. You might not admit it and, heck no do you talk about it but you know. And they know, too.

Along with knowing you so well, siblings have this way of bringing you back to reality. No putting on airs, no going to extremes. No matter what cloud you might be on and regardless of what their intention might be, no one puts your feet on the ground faster.

The following is from an email I recently sent my sister:

... I'm so glad you guys are going to be here soon! I'm looking forward to the time we'll get to spend together, unrushed, unhurried. It'll be like we get to know each other again, and better. And I'll get to be an aunt. A full-time aunt. I'm so happy to do that! It'll be great. It means so much to me that we'll be such a part of one another's life for a while. It's such an important time for that. We'll always remember this..."

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And on I went for another paragraph more.

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The response from my sister:

"I'm excited, too. Were you drinking when you wrote this?"

A Whole Mess of Gratitude

Sometimes I realize how lucky I am and it stops me in my tracks. I'm on the way down the hall to fill up my water bottle at the drinking fountain and I get half way there and I just have to stop because I'm nearly consumed by the thought of just how good I have it.

I am still high from all the feelings of the relay experience. I just can't believe the way twelve people can come together and accomplish something with such strength and humor and spirit. And it doesn't just stop there, I have a wonderful family, too. A family who watches my dog while I'm away and waters my flowers and brings in the mail. I wouldn't be able to have half the freedom I do without the foundation they provide. And a grandmother who turns eighty-one this week. Eighty-one! I'm just amazed by her, and her stories and wisdom. I'm so thankful she's healthy and here to share with me.

And I have friends, near and far. Running friends, school friends, and yes, even blogging friends. I do consider that a friendship, you know. We learn together, laugh together, share some good times and some crap times. That's got to be one definition of friendship and don't let anyone tell you it's not.

Things like this are so easy to overlook if we aren't careful. We can be so driven to what's next that we forget to take stock in what's right now. I don't want to forget that. I don't want to be the girl that's so upset she didn't win a trip to Mexico on the radio this morning that she forgets she has plans every night this week with friends and is going to sing [badly] at the top of her lungs at a concert on Saturday. And I am so definitely not that girl because do you know how long it's been since I've gone to a concert? At least three months and that, my friend, is far too long.

There have been some bad times lately. Some disappointing people, some crud so deep even your tallest boots would fail you but you know, today is just one of those days where it's not front row. Yeah, those troubles are out there, looming somewhere. But all I've got to do is let them be, let them stay out there in the back for the moment. You see, there are these bright, blazing lights shining up front here and for now, that's all I need.

Maybe it's just a life full of plans or having just come off a great running experience but my gosh, I have some good stuff and good people in my life and I'm just so incredibly grateful I can barely stand it.

Not a Moment Too Soon

If last week were, say, part of a contest- a really not fun contest where a family could compete with other families, or a twenty-seven-year-old woman could compete with other twenty-seven-year-old women- to see who could have the worst week ever, my family and I would have been fierce competitors. Or maybe, if there were a television show called Worst Week Ever and they featured people that were really having a really bad week, we might have been one of the top stories.
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The loss of a family member started the week. Then, a much beloved couple close the family have decided to separate. Then, a family member attended and then, subsequently, was stranded at a wedding-gone-wrong. In Kentucky. Kentucky, where none of us is right now. And we thought that was it; we thought we had our Unfortunate Things Happen in Threes trifecta. But then someone had a heart attack and all my theories of threes just went out the window, along with the cake I'd tried to bake but couldn't because the middle kept sinking. Twice. Thank you. (The upside to that is, you have to do something with all that icing you made. I opted to eat it, rather than slapping it directly onto my thighs. Yes, thank you, again.)
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So many times in the last week, I've found myself just shaking my head, trying to think but not really being able to get anywhere. I've written a thousand things, most of which make no sense now and the rest of which will probably make very little sense in the days to come. I've gone for countless runs (yes, more than once per day), thrown myself into work only to come out feeling drained and guilty, and tried passing the time with friends and drinks and catching a little bit of sunlight. It's incredibly challenging to catch sunlight in between all the clouds, by the way.
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While I know this is not the worst plight in life (I'm well aware more people than me could be on the Worst Week Ever) I'd be a complete fraud if I didn't admit to what I'm thinking right now: I have a break coming in seven days and my gosh, I feel like I've earned it.

Pretty Little Bows

Blogging, online journaling, writing and putting it out for anyone to see... whatever you want to call it, it's a strange thing. It seems as though the longer you do this and the more comfortable you become, the more cautious you become, as well. Maybe not so much because of the Big Scary Anonymous Blog-Reading Stalker (though I understand that is a valid fear) but more so because you start to wonder what's good and appropriate content for your blog.

Whether you try to or not, a blog sort of takes on it's own personality. Some become largely political, some are strictly and purposely nonsensical while others (like, oh, say maybe THIS blog) just seem to throw everything together and sometimes wrap everything up neatly in the end with a cute little bow.

I'm not going to lie, I like the bow. I like the way a good conclusion sounds and the way I can share how I took a less than ideal situation and found that it really turned out better than I could have ever anticipated. I like saying "look at all these beautiful things, oh how I love them! Aren't they great? Isn't everything just remarkably wonderful?" Because most of the time, life is just that.

But sometimes it isn't. Sometimes things happen and you find yourself wondering not only if you should share them on your blog and more importantly, how you should do it. Sure, the content of this site isn't always hearts and flowers bursting from sunshine and rainbows, but it's not often far from it. Or at least my mind isn't, anyway. So then life hands you some bad news, you deal with it and feel like you're working with it well but you say to yourself "I won't write about this. Not only might it be too private, but I don't know how to do it anyway." And it's true, you probably don't know how to write about it. But you sit down, ready to write about anything and guess what? Nothing else comes to mind. So now, you have two choices: writing about the bad or a blank screen. I'm never one to keep my mouth shut for long, so of course a blank screen isn't going to last.

Three days ago, an uncle of mine passed away. It was not a unique situation, as he was sick and had been for a very long time. His death was not a shock and yet, it is still very difficult. I find myself in the place of wanting to support other family members who were close to him while trying to make some peace with it in my own heart. It's a difficult situation and yet, very simple. It is a reminder to me, though I like to believe I don't need it, to value my family. To be very thankful for them, as they're the only one I'm going to get. I'm very proud of the way we support one another, regardless of feelings about the situation.

It's a reminder that time will heal and it will also reveal. While there are so many questions, there are also some answers. It's comforting to know that we can be relieved from our suffering, when it is our time. It's a reminder that we are given so many choices each and every day and that we can't let those pass us by. That, though it may not seem like it, does make a pretty decent bow on the top of the otherwise not-so-neat package.

My Socks Also Match

I wake up in the morning, walk ten feet and run into a door. A door that's not usually closed. I stumble into the bathroom, step into the shower and something squeaks under my foot. There's nothing on the coffee table, the remote to the T.V. is no where to be found and there are smells that scream pureed coming from inside the refrigerator.

My house has been transformed. It's happened before, yes, with the toys and what can only be described as mountains of baby equipment everywhere. But he's mobile this time. He's everywhere, you can't stop him. And so you move everything out of his path. His path of destruction.

It's good for me, I think, mixing up my routine. It's teaching me you can to go bed without everything in it's place. It's teaching me that a shredded magazine is not the worst thing in the world. It's teaching me that whenever you have a child in your house that eats, it is best to also have a dog. She has never been happier, the dog. She's taken right to her post under the high chair like a fish to water. When I try to get her to move, so I can pick up my nephew and shake the crumbs off, the dog looks at me like I'm ripping her from the place she was meant to be. If she could talk, she'd say something like "please, don't make me move. Gazing up at the base of this highchair is the one thing in life I'm actually good at doing!"

It always amazes me how small changes have the power to completely redefine our priorities. I normally manage to leave the house in the morning awake, fed and even accessorized. I turn the music up, make some toaster waffles and head out the door proud that I have remembered to wear earrings and cute shoes. This morning, I left with wet hair, tripped over some sort of rolling, spinning, noise-making contraption and walked into Starbucks looking like I'd forgotten the ever important part of waking up that involves opening one's eyes. And this is not even the morning after a night of babysitting, this is just how good I am at having a change in routine.

The best part, though, is that I think I've realized a little bit of what gets a parent through. Last night, as my sister and nephew were leaving to spend an evening with friends, he reached out for me and said "aaagggguuuiieee." Translation: I don't want to leave my favorite Auntie, give me back to her now or I will scream. Sure, there's no way to prove this but spend two minutes with that baby's head on your shoulder and you'll know there's no way I could be wrong.

Not How We'd Imagine

In the last couple days, several people have asked me how I can have house guests stay for weeks. "How can you handle that?" they wonder. "I'd go crazy, especially if it were family." The thing is, my sister (and of course the little boy that can do no wrong) is probably the exception. Aside from my love of a full house, these people are right, house guests can be difficult. But not her. There's just something about our relationship that's based in reality. I'm eternally grateful for that.

Along with being real with each other, I think we both happen to find a way to make the best of a situation. For me, it's based in love. And not just a I-love-my-sister-she's-family-of-course-we're-supposed-to-love-family sort of way but more the idea that when you base your actions and motivations in love, you can rarely go wrong. In fact, I've yet to hear a case of this.

The truth is, things are hardly ever how I imagined they'd be. I don't know many people that haven't felt that and if you've been around this blog for more than ten minutes, you know how I tend to struggle with this. It's an acceptance issue, I'll admit but it's the process of the whole thing with which I seem to be in perpetual adaptation. Nonetheless, at the end of the day, I'm still willing to see the bright side. Even when you have to look for them quite intently, those bright sides are usually there, waiting for you.

When I was younger, for whatever reason (too many sappy country songs, too many movies, too many books maybe (but don't try to convince me there can ever be too many of any of these)) I always had this fantasy that saw me far in the future. It was later at night, I was with my family; one I'd helped create, not the one to which I was born. We'd finished dinner, the summer breeze was blowing through the window of the kitchen and we'd turn up the radio and dance. This isn't because we have rhythm, not because we did it on a regular basis. It was just taking advantage of a moment. A time for relaxing, acting silly, and living. There might be a fast song, or maybe slow, my imagination didn't specify. All I knew was, it was a simple pleasure and one I'd longed for my entire life.

But that might not be reality. Reality is, I have no window in my kitchen. The sliding door in the dining room is closest, and late yesterday, it was too windy to open it. My house is full right now, but of another kind of family. A family that I had no part in, and yet one that reminds me every day how I've been blessed. This particular family is not whole right now, which is never in the ideal plans. Still, with the door closed, our bellies full of breakfast-for-dinner fare, our feet bare and the radio volume way up, we danced in the kitchen.

Runs in the family

My sister and nephew are here now. He's nearly eleven months old and in case there was doubt, has the personality to prove it. He may strongly resemble his father's side of the family in looks however, the personality seems to be veering sharply toward our side.

For instance, he's a talker. Other than "mamamamama" and "gigi" (when pointing at the doggie, of course) no one really knows what he's saying. But in the true style of our family, that is hardly a reason to stop talking. In fact, it's good reason to talk more. If at first you don't communicate, try, try again. And continue trying until no one will answers the phone when you call or returns your emails at which point it's clearly time to drop by unannounced. My nephew is well on his way to that step, as well.

He's been pulling himself up on furniture to stand for months and man is he speedy on all fours. (Seriously, turn your back for a second and all the toilet paper is off the roll even though you are still in the next room.) Now, though, he's standing. And trying to walk. If there's anything more remarkable than watching someone, for the first time, put one foot in front of the other I don't know what it is. Then, when he inevitably flops down on his rear, he gets up and tries again. Quite a reminder and a testament to the determination of humans, even if they have knee injuries. Who thought you could learn something from a baby?

I'm bound and determined that the kid will learn to walk while staying at my house for the next few weeks. To ensure this, I gave him the house rules: 1) We all walk here 2) There are very few reasons to scream in the middle of the night. So far, he's followed neither rule. We're working on it, though. After all, what more can I expect from someone who poured the dog's water on his head within two minutes of being in my house?

Your five o'clock will come someday, young man

I try to spend as much time as I can with my young, full-of-questions, cousins. I used to think I could teach them but mostly, they teach me.

The older of the two, now nearly ten, and I tend to want to "research" and "discover" whenever we're together. We go on little hikes and when we're hanging out at home, we spend a lot of time on The Discovery Channel website. We've watched everything from stunts to emergency animal rescue and read articles on bridge engineering, crocodile breeding and the history of diamonds. I'm not kidding, we are professionals when it comes to finding information on the Internet.

Boy of nearly ten, though, seems to know something about everything. He knows what makes a suspension bridge stay, well, suspended. He knows that some female reptiles eat their mate (or at least try, or something like that). He knows the history of the Hope Diamond. Meanwhile, I usually sit next to him, staring at the screen stunned that there's anything else even on the Internet beside blogs, Wikipedia and YouTube. What more do you really need? Really?

On our latest adventure, though, my lack of ten-year-old knowledge was redeemed. Well, almost. We were reading this article by Bill Nye (yes, "The Science Guy." Do you know any other Bill Nye? Okay then.) about tides. Throughout the article, Bill explains the reason for tides, the sun, the moon, gravity and all. (Sidebar: I enjoy Bill especially because although he is THE science guy, he doesn't get all crazy sciency all the time and talk over one's head. It's actually quite attractive and if Bill were say, younger, single and possibly living across the street from me, I might find some time to bring some cookies over. Super smart sciency non-cocky guy is the new hot, you know).

Anyway, in the middle of the article, Bill gets into explaining the way Earth rotates and how that causes tides, particularly high tides, to always be occurring somewhere. Here's what Bill says: "As the saying goes, it's five o'clock somewhere. Well, the ocean is bulging high-tide-wise somewhere all the time as well--and on opposite sides of Earth."

"Oh, that makes sense," I say to my cousin. He agrees but has a strange look on his face. "What?" I ask, still not sure what he doesn't get.

"I've never heard of that saying."

"What? 'It's five o'clock somewhere'?"

"Yeah. What does that mean?"

"It just means that somewhere on Earth, no matter what time it is in your time zone, it can be five o'clock somewhere else."

"I don't think that's true. Would the math add up? Are there enough time zones for that to be possible."

"Well, I really don't know. But that's not really the important part of that saying."

"So what's the important part?"

"Ask me again in ten years."

"Ugh, I hate when you say that! I won't remember in ten years to ask you what 'It's five o'clock somewhere' means."

"Oh yes you will, trust me."

Super

Over the last couple weeks, I've been invited to a couple Super Bowl parties. Yes, the invites were nice but I didn't accept either. I'm not sure why, I just didn't feel up to it. Imagine that. So, I declined and carried on figuring I'd at least avoided the over-comsumption of food and drink and could therefore continue down this path of succeeding to be a smaller version of myself.

Then, while driving in highway traffic the other day, I felt the need to have family around me. It has been a while since we were all together and I miss that. There are also a few friends I haven't seen in a while- I miss them, too. So, after a careful twenty-three seconds of thought, I started making calls.

Thirty minutes later, I was now hosting a Super Bowl party. The funniest part of this is, I didn't even know what time the game started. "Show up whenever!" I told them. I'm sure they'll figure it out.

I've planned some food, some drink, even ordered three different flavors of "wings"- something I have never served at my house, ever. On Saturday I'll brave the crowds and shop for other snacks and, yes, beer. And Sunday, I'll have a house full of people who all accepted an invite to a party I'm throwing because I didn't want to go to anyone else's. Strange how that worked out.

Oh yes, and I'm no longer worried about the over-consumption of food because the game starts around 4:00 p.m. or something like that which means almost an entire day beforehand is available for the gym. By kickoff, I'll be guiltless.

Wednesday Night Randomness

I had about twenty-nine different reasons to make it to the gym this afternoon (one being that I skipped out yesterday because, funny, on Monday I pretended I was some kind of superstar and went to the gym at lunch AND after work and come Tuesday, I was feeling like something a cat dragged in. And not just any cat, but like a huge, giant, violent, predator-type cat). However, all those twenty-nine reasons weren't nearly as good as the invite of After-Work Happy Hour.

First, to those who have any idea what I do for a living, I'm sure hundreds (okay, tens) of thoughts are going through your head right now starting with "wait, computer people know what happy hour is?" Yes, apparently they do. And apparently, I'm also part of that crowd, even though I claim to forget absolutely anything technical or even half-way knowledgeable when I walk out the door. It's like a force or something!

Still, it was a happy hour invite and I could have been all "no thanks, I'm going to the gym to concentrate on breaking the Rotation Speed Record for an elliptical machine" but instead, I accepted. It was loads of fun, too. The best part was, I was home in time to catch a good chunk of American Idol.

I know, I know.

That show, though, always makes me thankful for my family and their honesty. Seriously, I have been a singer all my life but a) not once did anyone tell me I could sing when I dang well can't and b) they taught me to embrace my other, better "qualities" and save the singing for others who don't need a wheelbarrow, okay, dump truck to carry a tune.

We sort of pride ourselves on that honesty, brutal as it may necessarily be. Like a night a couple weeks ago, while having dinner with my aunt, uncle and teen aged cousins, we started laughing at some of our little "quirks," you might say. Five or ten minutes in, my aunt, uncle and I were beside ourselves laughing at some of our family's funny habits, like talking over one another, involuntarily calling each other by the wrong name (and you thought that was just for grandmothers) and going outside without pants on. Okay, I am joking about that last one. Mostly. Eventually, we even got my older cousin laughing and soon, it was the four of us laughing and the seventeen-year-old staring at all of us like he'd been kidnapped by the gorilla family at the zoo; we were both interesting enough to watch and frightening enough to keep a safe distance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him staring. He then informed us that we were acting "like a bunch of rednecks who never set foot in a classroom." I think he believes there's some rule that says if you go to college, you can't laugh at your family's lack of outerwear. According to him, the family has some history in business and success and therefore we all qualify as some sort of white collar, non-fart joke making, geniuses who have a history to live up to.

He's right, really because I believe it was those very grandfathers that were instrumental in turning what was once just industry terminology into household words. Most important, of course, being happy hour and plumber's crack.

Days Go By

It's been nearly a year since I began this blog. While that's not much for some, it's quite significant to me, if only because I've found a place to dump thousands of the billions of thoughts constantly swirling around in my head.

When I woke up this morning I watched and read some news and wondered if it was bad to feel like this, 1/1/07, were just like any other day. I still have the same thoughts, same goals, and same worries as I did yesterday. What makes this different? Should I feel as though I'm standing at the edge of something? Anything?

In two days, I have an appointment with the top sports medicine doctor in the city. He is supposed to help me with my knees (yes, knees, plural. In addition to my right knee being swollen and now painful, my left knee has followed suit since my Christmas Day run). I have had it, I am ready for help. I'm overwhelmingly motivated to run right now, and I can't. I think (and also hope) this doctor will scope both knees. I've had the xrays and MRI's, it's time to do something more drastic. I need to run. I have a half marathon scheduled in March, a full in May, another half later in the summer and probably another full in the fall. I may be injured, but I'm not losing hope. I definitely need this doctor to understand that.

Over the past two days, I have eaten enough to support a family of five. Or twelve. I credit this to football games and my grandmother requesting I bake her some more of my perfect cookies. Obviously, I could say no to neither. Sandwiches, pizza, cookies, pizza, taco salad and pizza do not make for a "hey, look at me, I've lost seven pounds" attitude, so I sure am glad the weekend is over. Not-so-secretly, though, I am glad it was here because I am reassured that I was always right about two things: cheese melted on anything makes it better and, putting bacon on pizza is culinary genius. However, I know and am okay with the fact that this has come to an end, because feeling the way my pants fit sans seven pounds, well, that's almost as good as bacon and, in my case, lasts a heck of a lot longer.

In just four short days, my sister will, once again, have to say goodbye to her husband and send him off to the danger of the Middle East. I can't even begin to express how this makes me feel. He's been home less than two months. I don't care that the President says "there's a job to do" and then proceeds to dump thousands of troops back into a war without a clear plan. I don't care that an evil dictator was just hanged. I'm glad he was captured, yes. It doesn't make up for the fact that men and women are leaving their families for "undetermined length deployments," some for a third or fourth time in two years. It doesn't change that death tolls have reached a milestone, again. I cannot write eloquently about this. It is not something I have understood from the very beginning, and I doubt I ever will. I was raised and believe leaders, elected leaders, should be respected and supported. That is what makes a country strong. Now, that's changed. It is, perhaps, what angers me most.

In about sixteen days, my sister will relocate to the West coast to finish school and be closer to family while her husband is away. Sure, I could go into all the reasons why this is a good, positive thing and the only good thing about the entire situation but really, all I can think about is how she and I will don mouse ears and recreate scenes from our childhood at Disneyland this summer.

Over the past, oh let's say 358 days or so, I've had the privilege of "meeting" some fantastic people. It's you, fellow bloggers and readers. You have opened my mind to new perspectives, new stories, new parts of the country and the world and your lives. I feel as though it's no accident that you and I have stumbled upon one another and the bits and pieces of this last year we've shared and the connections we've had are far more than I ever expected. Plus, you're super cool.

So it is okay, after all, to feel like today is any other day. Our hopes, our prayers, our laughs, our connections and our struggles are what make it so. That's the significance. Without those, I suppose, we wouldn't mind the passing of the days anyway. We might not even notice at all.

High on Christmas

I'm still ridiculously giddy about the last three days. Days spent in a fury of gift wrap, visiting, food and drink. I finished one last shopping trip on Saturday and at the sight of my last gift wrapped and ribboned, I almost didn't know what to do with myself.

But then I did. Party, of course. A Saturday night party, a Christmas Eve breakfast, a Christmas eve lunch, a gathering at Grandmas and a Christmas Day dinner of lasagna, salad (both with excessively wonderful amounts of garlic) and cookies all made for a lovely weekend of tasting goodness. The homemade pie at Grandma's after the football game was TO. DIE. FOR.

A four mile run on the treadmill on Saturday, twenty-five minutes on the bike on Sunday and a run yesterday in which I didn't track the miles or time because it was just so good made for a good maintenance plan to balance out the to-die-for treats of the season.

Christmas Day began with some chai tea and the opening of a couple gifts. Then, it was off to the soup kitchen where I ended up delivering meals to several folks unable to leave their homes for a hot meal. Once again, I feel as though I'm the one who's received a gift as I'm reminded of the pricelessness of even one day of health, family and friendship. In all the trials in this world, I truly have been spared and blessed several times over.

A friend of mine's dad, whenever asked how he's doing answers: "Better than I deserve and often too stupid to enjoy it." Isn't that the truth?

After my delivery person stint, I stopped by the parent's house for even more Christmas cheer. In all these years, my mother still maintains the title of Slowest Gift Opener Ever. She sits and watches everyone else open gifts and then proceeds to open hers not by tearing paper from the gift itself but so delicately pulling it apart that if you didn't see her hands on the package, you'd imagine that the paper were removing itself from the box by sheer will alone. You aren't sure whether to be impressed by her patience and tenderness or grab the box out of her hand and do it yourself before we grow old, forgoodnesssakes!

Later, in the sunny, sunny thirty-nine degree afternoon weather, I went for a run. My knee is still quite unhappy and the side streets and trails are still covered in snow and ice but thanks to warm sun, no wind and Yaktrax I had one of the best runs I've had in a while and, arguably, the best Winter run I'd ever had. The snow crunching under my feet and sometimes coming up as deep as just below the knee in some spots created an interesting, yet peaceful run. Everyone was inside gifting and footballing which left the roads free of traffic and left me to run right down the middle. It's so good, feeling as though the road is yours for a day. I could have gone on forever.

A freeing run to take time to reflect on a fulfilling day followed by a non-traditional Christmas meal to conclude all of it left me feeling thankful and looking forward to the new year and new days to come.

Tall, Tall Trees

You know, it never ceases to amaze me when you get to have these little "epiphany" type moments at the most random times. Really, it's just incredible that we get to grow and progress enough from time to time so that we can really see the purpose or value in a moment.

My moment, just the other day, was completely unexpected- as they often say the best ones are. I was reading Michelle's blog and this post. To most, it would seem like any other post. We had a storm, a power outage, a run, etc. What's extraordinary about that, right? Admittedly, while I always enjoy Michelle's posts (really, her ability to find just the right mix of enthusiasm and laid-back is incredibly admirable), I thought the same. It's good to hear the perspective of a storm and outage like that from someone who's in it, rather than the news but that's it.

Until I read this part:
Today as I was walking the dog, I took a good look at our trees and decided that I had underestimated their height. I'd say they range from 75 to 125 feet. I also counted - three in the front garden, ten in the backyard. Of these, there are probably eight that I cannot fit my arms around. The middle one in the front is a skinny, woodpecker drilled thing that is mostly dead. Eric and a neighbor have grand plans to take it down on their own. It's probably an okay plan because it is one of the shorter ones. I guess we'll find out next summer.

This is where my "moment" occurred. Big, almost dead tree removal? Epiphany? Wait... what?

Yeah, I know. But stay with me, it all sort of flooded into my head. I pictured the trees in my mind. I pictured this "almost dead" tree in a front yard, in front of a house. I pictured the front windows, a driveway, the street in front of the house. I pictured the family that runs (ha, pun sort of intended) in and out of that house every day. I pictured the hustle and the rushing around, and the quiet moments, too. Not necessarily of Michelle's family, but just of a family. Lives running in and out of the house, past the old, almost dead tree. And then, when she says "Eric and a neighbor have grand plans to take it down on their own. It's probably an okay plan because it's one of the shorter ones. I guess we'll find out next summer." Just like that, so easy.

"I guess we'll find out next summer."

And that's where it happened, and something clicked in my brain. There's a feeling there, something I can't quite point out. I can't explain it. But, at the same time, I want it. I want that part of life where you have a big huge tree in the yard that has to come down and it has to happen next summer and somehow you're just "eh, it'll happen... whatever, no big deal." Because now, in my current state of mind, I would be something more along the lines of "tree? Old? Dead? Has to come down? When? How? You? You're going to remove it? Isn't that dangerous? Won't it be difficult? And when is there time for it? And what and how and when and you, mere mortal man and tree, huge ten-ton tree? HOW?!" Relaxed, don't you think?

Wanna know what I think? I think I'm a little nuts. I think my brain has to slow the heck down for five seconds and take some time to realize I don't have to figure out the entire world of tree removal (or anything else that's going on in my little reality) RIGHTTHISVERYSECOND, ORELSE!! Because that feeling of nonchalant, no worries, comfortable right where you are, dealing with life as it comes to you sounds a whole lot better. And, the best part is, I'm totally capable of that. A little more so every day.

And so it's done, and I'm a finisher

I didn't know I'd feel so many different feelings today. Things are running the gamut of emotions. I never want to run again, I want to run again tomorrow. I miss my running friends already, I'll see some of them soon. I want to eat a house, nothing sounds good. I want to take a nap, I can't sit still. I want to get busy at work, I can't concentrate. It's all very strange.

The pre-race feelings, I could describe. I could chalk them up to nerves, excitement and anticipation. This? Is just a little different.

The race, it was fantastic. I did not have an expectation of time, really, but I was happy with my result. It wasn't my "dream" time but it wasn't "worst case", either. I suppose I would have been even happier had I not ended up with a sprained foot, but such is the unpredictability of running and racing. The knee problem that won't go away came back to haunt me a little, too, but nothing horrible. As of today, the doctor told me to stay off it completely for two weeks. No running, cycling, elliptical or weights [on the legs] at all. Then, we'll see what it does. As of now, it's got some fluid/swelling going on but not significant enough to drain (I know, gross). So, I will wait. All I'm allowed to do is Yoga or Pilates and upper body weights. I can handle that, though in my head I just picture my cardiac fitness going straight out the window. Ugh, the thought of rebuilding makes me nauseous.

So, the race. Like I said, it was great. It was so much fun, everything from meeting up with my friends early on to the pasta dinner, the race itself and the celebrating afterward. No matter how many people continue to participate in marathons, I'm reminded that it is a BIG DEAL. There are only something like one in a thousand people that could actually complete the distance of a marathon and thankfully, I am one of them. I'd venture to say, though, that I wouldn't be without all the wonderful people I've encountered along the way (in racing, training, discussions and beyond).

This race, in particular, was powered by the strength I've found in the running community. For those that aren't in it, I'm not sure I know what to compare it to. It's a remarkable thing, really. With the exception of the occasional snooty runner, everyone is really just as welcoming as you'd expect a best friend to be. Michelle over at Back of the Pack recently posted about this phenomenon and I could not agree more. It is a very unique experience and privilege to be a part of this community.

In the group I met at my race, we had every speed and ability of runner possible and I am not lying when I say that each and every one of these people embraced one another. From those who finished in 3:18 (completely unfathomable to me) to those that brought up the tail at six hours or more, everyone congratulated and celebrated together. It is an awesome feeling to know that I get to be part of something so special.

So, today as I sit here with all these different emotions, I am certain of this: I may not be terribly fast, my body not be made for running but I have definitely chosen the right place to be. With all the other unanswered questions floating around me, I am glad I am certain of at least this. Running has brought me a sense of peace and community that I otherwise would have never known. That is worth more than feeling great for 26 miles or any medal I've ever received- though receiving the medal was quite a good feeling!

Thanks for all the support and advice over the weeks of training, too. It's great to be able to relate my triumphs and woes of running to both runners and non-runners on this blog and get the insight of others.

I'm sure my feelings and emotions will be all over the place in the next week or so, as I come down off this ride and work on finding another challenge. For now, I'm just going to get my knee back to working, rest the sprained foot and enjoy the marathon story-telling I'll get to do around the holidays. I'm also joining Nicole over at Powered by Vegetables in her 3 in 3 "challenge." There are three weeks until the end of the year and I'd like to lose 3 pounds. Not because I feel I'm three pounds overweight or that my Winter sweaters will look that much different minus the three, but more so because I like the idea of the distraction and the challenge. It's going to be a little tough seen as I can't get much cardio in but I think I can do it now that I'm not eating like I was during training. Join us, if you'd like, because really, there are no consequences or prizes-it's just three pounds.

All That and a Fully Cooked Turkey

A couple years ago, when my sister moved away for the first time and I was visiting her in her new Kentucky home, we attempted to cook our first solo Thanksgiving dinner. Yes, we had each other but my expertise was green bean casserole, her's mashed potatoes and neither of us had done anything but eat turkey before that day- never pulled out the insides, never greased it up, never even basted. We had to do it, though. We had to pretend life was the same and things hadn't changed, that we could still eat turkey and act like we lived in the bubble of our little family, a bubble that had been stretched over a thousand miles.



What we lacked in experience, we made up for in research and planning, though. Thank heaven and earth for that, because when I called my sister three days before and told her to take the turkey out of the freezer and put it in the refrigerator, she asked me "why?" with a seriousness in her voice that had me imagining us eating our turkey for breakfast the following Friday. Later, she would be just as panicked for me as she said she needed a meat thermometer and I asked "why?" How we staved off e-coli that year, I'll never know.



Talking to her the other night, I knew that we'd never have a frozen turkey at her house, again. In addition to me, she's hosting another eight or so people at her house with the possibility of more. She's not worried a bit and plans to cook all day without, and I quote, "missing any of the football or beer." (We are definitely related.) I'm so proud of her for everything she's done and how far she's come. She continues to grow and amaze me with the choices she makes and the approach she uses in life. As an older sister, I don't know what makes me more proud: the fact that she can do it all or the fact that she believes she can.



Happy Thanksgiving, sister. I love you and I'll see you soon.

Just like my mother

I have been way, super busy this last week. I am surprised I have eaten, even. Ha, well that was almost funny because me forgetting to eat would be like Britney Spears forgetting to appear in front of a camera with gum in her mouth. It just would. not. happen. EVER.

Always finding time to waste, though, I've been momentarily distracted (read: consumed several minutes, maybe more) by this little internet psychic: 20 Questions.

Have you tried it? Are you not in pure SHOCK and AWE when it guesses what you're thinking? So far, I have beat it only once when my object was "candle" and it asked me "Is this object round?" and since I have several square and oblong candles, I said "no." It asked me if the object was tall and I said "yes" because candles can be tall but not in the 20 Question world, apparently. It is like when I asked my mom if I could try substituting Splenda for sugar in her cake recipe and she said "not if you still want to call it cake." In her world, it is not "just like sugar." At the end, 20 Questions told me I was wrong and that no, candles are round and short only and I lied and cheated to win. Still, I am in shock and awe.

Lessons

This morning when the alarm went off, I thought it was Saturday. Not because it felt like Saturday but because I heard a different voice on the radio than I'm normally used to waking up to. It's quite inconvenient for a radio d.j. to take vacation, really. It's also a little scary that I've become so used to a certain voice in the morning, the voice of someone I don't even know. The lesson in this: ask for one of those nifty iHome alarm clocks for Christmas. But we won't go there today and talk about the voiceless house, oh no, because there are other things to talk about.

Like knees. My little knee has been upset a little all week- I know, I didn't even whine and cry about it. Much. Just be glad I don't know your phone number, or you would probably be ready to cut the thing off for me by now. It's decided to swell up and was at it's worst point yesterday. The weird thing about it is, unlike a couple weeks ago, there's no pain. I ran on Wednesday with no pain but I couldn't help but feel as though I was being "bad" because, oh my heck, the swelling! Today it appears as though it's going back to normal, which only leads me to believe that the knee issue is work related. Lesson learned: offices cause me injury, I am certain. If I had the option to go and move all day, I would likely have no knee problems and also, a better caboose. But alas, I can't stop buying cute baby clothes (for my nephew) and the dog has become accustomed to food so, I have to sit in this chair.

Other than knees, life is looking quite bright right now. It has everything, okay 99%, to do with my upcoming trip. I am flying, on Thanksgiving nonetheless, East to see my nephew (and, oh yeah, his parents) and duh, of course it's all I can think about. Hence the fact that, I kid you not, I have an entire suitcase of unwrapped Christmas presents already packed. That little kid is a drooling, screaming gift magnet.

Sometimes, it's really tough to be away from him. But it's also incredibly beneficial. Rather than the comfort in having family just up the street like my childhood, our family is now forced to make every moment count. It's not something we grew up doing and it's not something I think our society is accustomed to. We have to learn to deduce what's really important and what really matters to us. Because we're far away and because my brother-in-law's career will continue on that path, we have learned to adapt. I'm thankful to have been stretched in this capacity. I'm thankful to know that distance does not make relationships impossible and that it can, in fact, make them better.

Looking back ten or even five years, I had such a different perspective on adult family life. A life where people separate and generations make more generations. I thought then that it was not my life. I thought that families that came together, gathered around a fire and laughed on holidays were only in LL Bean catalogs. They were there because they had to be, because it looked good. Now, I know different. I know that my family comes together, gathers around whatever they can and laughs (usually about ourselves and how we're utterly shocked that we turned out even half-way normal at all) because we want to.

At the risk of sounding completely ridiculous, nothing feels better than that. Nothing feels better than knowing that the person I am, the person I'm still striving to be, knows that she has finally come far enough to appreciate her place in the world and in her family, equally.

Lesson learned: Be thankful.