A Summer Heart

Today I wanted to write a really brilliant post.
Something inspiring. Or clever and smart. Or wildly funny and entertaining.

But I'm not gonna lie. This week has been cold...

...wear-your-scarf-and-puffy-coat-inside cold,
...hot-chocolate-doesn't-make-it-any-better cold,
...brain-freeze cold.

And since my brain is frozen, all I can think about is summer.

Mmm, summer...

...step-outside-and-sweat summer,
...humidity-you-can-practically-eat summer,
...throw-and-go-hair-days summer.

Summer.

For as long as I can remember, my heart has belonged to summer.

I love the heat, the sun, and the carefree days at the pool.
I love late, sultry walks with fireflies, and midnight drives with the top laid back.
I love the strong, incessant buzz of the cicada, and the throaty growl of the frog.
I love sweaty runs, and cool, crisp watermelon. In that order.

I just love all that summer has to offer! 

But the transition between seasons always leaves me contemplative.
Watching the leaves gradually turn, shake loose, and wistfully settle to the ground,
Feeling the winds change and the earth freeze beneath my feet,
I can't help but wonder...

Just which season of life I am in? 

The hair is graying, the skin is wrinkling, and the body is realizing limitations the mind refuses to accept.
The kids are leaving, the once impossible schedule is relenting, and the balance of life is shifting.

Everything tells me my summer is winding down.

Everything except for my heart.

I have a heart that fights and fights for summer.
For a summer where the mind is clear and the body is strong;
For long, warm days that linger deep into the late years of my life.
For an "Indian Summer" of my own.

But buried within I know my summer will one day give way to autumn, then ultimately to winter.
And when it does I hope to have gained an appreciation for the wonders of those seasons;
A recognition of the peace and wisdom that comes from knowledge of seasons past,
And a profound understanding of the glorious spring that will follow.

But mostly I hope to find a place where all the seasons of my life can fit seamlessly with my 

Forever Summer Heart.

Under The Christmas Tree

Today is December 1st.

I used to have all of my Christmas stuff up by the weekend following Thanksgiving.
Then I used to have it up by the Monday after Thanksgiving.
And then I used to have it up by November 29. Or 30th.

Today is December 1st. And I still have unpacked boxes of Christmas decor scattered everywhere.

This was not my intention, but important things got in the way.
You know, like "Angry Birds" and "Words With Friends".
(Don't judge. We made it into a family holiday event.)

But you should know that in spite of the boxes littering my living room, the Christmas tree is up.
With two ornaments on it.

And nothing underneath.

I don't know what is typically found under your tree by now. But mine usually sees a tree skirt.
And then presents. Which I usually shoot to have under the tree by midnight on December 24th.

However, this year I found an early unexpected something under my Christmas tree.

I found it when I climbed under the tree to wiggle it around a bit in its tight corner...
     ...then rolled onto my back to breathe out a deep sigh after some long, hard days (months).
I found it as I laid there, quiet and still, and opened my eyes to view my tree from the underside.

It only took a second to realize why my dog loves to hang out there.
It's cozy and all safe feeling.
And I said so out loud.
So Kid Middle crawled under and joined me.

Lying there, we felt like campers in dense forest, looking up into twinkling skies.
In a climate-controlled environment.
We talked about camping, and forests, and stars.
And microwave ready S'mores in climate-controlled environments.

And then we began to giggle.
     And laugh.
     And laugh some more.
Until tears were rolling down our cheeks and our abs began to ache.
It felt so good that we just laughed for as long as we could, for no reason at all.
Except to laugh.

And in those few moments under the Christmas tree I found Laughter.
And little slivers of Joy and Peace.

Sometimes I forget about these things.
I don't mean to. It's just happens.
I get busy with life, and caught up in the distractions, conflicts, and challenges that get in the way of what matters most.
And before I know it, I've forgotten what Laughter, and Joy, and Peace feel like.
And sometimes when I have forgotten I don't even know it till something comes along to remind me.

The fact that this reminder came with the Christmas tree is not completely surprising.
I have always loved putting the ornaments on the tree.
Each one carries a special memory that I get a chance to revisit as I unwrap and carefully place it.
I planned it this way from the beginning. And have loved it ever since.

But it takes an empty and bare tree to hold ornaments.
I don't usually like empty and bare.
Because it feels just like it sounds.
So it was surprising that the reminder came from time spent there.

But now I have fallen in love with the unadorned Christmas tree.
It is simple.
It is beautiful.
And I will forevermore see it as hopeful.
Because this year under the Christmas tree I didn't just find Laughter, and Joy, and Peace.

I created a memory.
And found a little bit of me.

Sometimes discoveries like this come in unexpected ways.
And sometimes they come by seeing things from under instead of out.
But if we pay attention they can remind us of the forgotten things that matter most.

May your Holiday Season be happy and full,

replete with discovery and memories.

And Laughter, and Joy, and Peace.

Challenge Over! And Things I Like - Branson Edition

Victory!!

I did in fact fit in my smallest jeans on the last day of my Branson trip. And I wore them for the long car ride home. Instead of the Just-In-Case-Yoga-Pants I packed for Day 6.

I did not take a pic of the Day 6 jeans. It was far too early in the morning for pics. But I do have this one to share...

Day 5 - The New "Because I Don't Have Six Pairs of Jeans" Jeans. Again

Confession: I paid attention to angles when taking all these jeans pics. 

My legs are not that thin. Or that long. 

I like this kind of magic.

And hopefully you will not have to see a pic of me and my jeans till next year. When I do the Branson thing all over again.

Now I'll wrap it all up with this.

Things I Like - Branson, Missouri Edition
In no order at all.

1. A week with my dad. And my sister. And my other sister. This could only be made better by having my other other sister there. We miss her when she's not.

2. Hills. You can't go anywhere in Branson without experiencing a hill. And these are the kinds of hills that make your bum and quads buuurrrrrn when you run them. They make the hills around my house feel like...not hills at all. I love them! Not to mention they are breathtaking. To look at. And to run.

3. The talent! I have never seen so much talent in one week. At least since the last time I spent a week in Branson. The performers are exceptional instrumentalists, vocalists, and entertainers. And it's clear they love what they do. I love what they do, too.

4. The work ethic. *Sings* "They work ha-ard for the money, duh, dun, duh, dun. So ha-ard for the money, duh, dun, duh, dun. They work ha-ard for the money so you better treat them right. Duh, dun, duh, dun."

From the restaurants to the merchants, to the ticket booths, to the stages, to the backstages, and everywhere in between, the people of Branson are hard, hard workers. And don't think for a minute that those performers live glamorous lives. Most of them work us under the table. I am not making this up. They don't look so seamless on stage "just because". And they can't go anywhere without getting attention. No ugly days at the grocery store for them!

5. Loyalty to God, Family, Country. In that order. Mentioned in nearly every show. On a scale of one to ten it is a ten refreshing.

6. The Amish store. Yes, this is my sad, sad weakness while I am there. Especially the freshly ground Honey Roasted Peanut Butter. And the licorice. And the jams. And the spices. And Bertha's Cashew Crunch. And the...and the...and the...  The list is lengthy!

7. Knowing the shortcuts around town. This isn't really so much about Branson as it is about me. ; )

8. Veterans. We always make this trip during Veteran's Week. I love this part. Every show takes a moment or two to recognize those who have valiantly fought for our freedoms. It is humbling and brings tears to my eyes every time. I feel honored to be in their presence. Now if our Government would just stop taking away the rights they have fought to preserve.

9. The Porter's!! Honestly. I fell in love with this family! They came at their mother's request. On her dime. A chance for all the kids and their spouses to get together and reconnect. Most of them were not too far from my own age and came with a bit of skepticism. They left with a bit of love. It was a privilege to spend the week with them and watch the Matriarch beam endlessly, no matter how tired she was. Every family should consider this for their reunion. And when you do, contact me. My dad plans a better Branson trip than anyone!

10. Me. That sounds self-centered, I know. But let me explain. I always come home from this trip a better person, enriched by those who I have met, inspired and moved by their life stories, and grateful for their quiet contributions to my soul. And the creative energy that exists in that town is remarkable. In short, I love what Branson does for me.

So, there you have it. The reasons why I leave my home and family to eat too much, sleep too little, and stimulate my senses to the point of being numb, knowing the entire time it will be worth every second of it.

I can't wait for next year! Especially now that I know my "Anti-Expansion Plan" actually works! : )

And one last parting shot.

The Porter Family + 2

(Because by the end of the week we felt like family. This trip just does that to you.)

The Food, The Jeans, The Challenge - Day 4

Here is what you should know about my annual Branson trip:

1. It's not all fun and games. But it is mostly fun.

2. I spend the week driving a van load of people from motel to show, to food, to show, to food, to show, to food before bed. At the motel. Our entire group varies anywhere from 23-60 people, depending on the year.

3. Sometimes I am expected to know the answers to unexpected questions like, "How much does a piece of land go for per acre around here?" Or, "What are all the Osmond kids up to?" I just politely remind people that I am not from "around here". Nor am I personally acquainted with the Osmonds.

4. A normal bus tour packs a whopping 7 shows into 5 days. The passengers are exhausted and feel like the tour people "keep them hopping".

5. My dad is not a normal bus tour. Because we see 12  shows in 4 days. And travel in vans.

6. The Brett Family Singers do a daily morning show in Branson. It is the BEST! Literally. They win awards and stuff. Like "2011 Best Morning Show" and "2011 Male Entertainer of the Year". And "2011 Female Vocalist of the Year". And "Best Patriotic Salute to Veterans".

7. I am closely related to The Brett Family Singers. One of them is my sister. Another one is my brother-in-law. The "Male Entertainer of the Year" is my nephew. And the "Female Vocalist of the Year" is my niece. Someday I will write an entire post just about them. Complete with pictures. Then you will want to go to Branson and see them. If you don't already.

Today we went to "The Wig Show". It's not really called "The Wig Show". My other sister and I just like to call it that.

Because...

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig 

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig

Wig

Not a wig.

Also not a wig.

Forgot a wig? 

All this in two fast-paced, high energy hours!

Hence, "The Wig Show." At least as distracting as the jackets with sparkles and fringe. 

Oh, how I love Branson! : )

Now on to the jeans report...

Day 4 - Newer Jeans

This morning they fit! So I ate popcorn. And fudge.

Only two days to go.

The Food, The Jeans, The Challenge - Day 3

I have a love/hate relationship with "theatrical haze".
I love it because it sounds cool.
I hate it because it makes my contacts feel gritty.
Or maybe that's sleep deprivation. I'm not really sure.

Today I...
Did not eat popcorn.
Did not go back for a third dessert.
Stopped by the Amish store to buy an unreasonable amount of freshly ground Honey Roasted Peanut Butter. Because I like it. A lot. And I like to share it. A lot. It's especially good with Pink Lady apples. Mmm.

Day 3 - New Jeans
And a new white blouse.

The jeans still fit. The blouse is high-maintenance.

(You have no idea how ridiculous I feel posting a pic of me in my jeans everyday. Seriously. My apologies for dragging you into my "Anti-Expansion Plan".)

Check this guy out. His name is George Dyer. If you're ever in Branson you should go see him.
He has an incredible voice!

Only narrowly surpassing the incredible hair.

The Food, The Jeans, The Challenge - Day 2

Today it rained. And rained. And rained, and rained, and rained. So my camera camped out in the car till the last show of the day. Where I learned that I am very easily distracted by costumes. Especially costumes that are sparkly.

And fringe-y.

Check out this collection of jackets. They are masterpieces.

Sparkly...

Fringe-y...

Sparkly and  Fringe-y!!

And the big finish...

So. Much. Sparkle!

And you should know that these costumes are always my favorite part of this show. Blame it on the Texas in me.

You should also know that I am really good at dieting. Until 11am.
And that there are some things I try once and then can never get enough of. Like sugar.
And that when your jeans get rained and rained on, they stre-e-e-etch. This is valuable information!

Day 2 - The Old Jeans
This was before the end of today's diet. And the sugar. And the rain.

Tomorrow I will run.

The Food, The Jeans, The Challenge - Day 1

This is what my life feels like about now.

A speeding train.

Partly because it's my birthday. Which I just had. About a month ago. Or so it seems.
And partly because I actually started this post more than 24 hours ago.
24 hours that I have no idea where they went.

(And yes, you do have to get this close to a speeding train to get a photo like this. At least I think you do. Or at least I did. It's loud and you can feel it rumble under your feet. And whoosh your hair. It's really cool.
Until the Sheriff comes. Apparently the railroad people have to call the Sheriff's Department when they see someone this close to the tracks. Who knew?)

Anyway, about this time every year I get to accompany my dad and a whole batch of eh...older...people on a trip to Branson, MO for a week. This is very fun.

And very fattening!

Because this is the schedule:

Eat.
See a show.
Eat.
See a show.
Eat.
See a show.
Eat.
Sleep. For not long enough.

For six days.

And when I say, see a show, I mean, sit through a show. And when I say, sit through a show, I mean, eat through a show. Because theater popcorn in any kind of theater is impossible for me to resist.

The whole event is brutal on the waistline and marks the beginning of my holiday weight gain.

I usually am very careful about how I plan my wardrobe for this week.
Meaning that I pack my jeans planning to wear my tightest pair on Monday and my loosest pair on Saturday.
I call it "Expansion Planning".
Because my tightest jeans no longer fit on Saturday.
Until next February.

But I just got new jeans. New jeans that I really, really want to be able to wear again before February. So I've decided to plan my wardrobe backwards and wear my loosest jeans first. With the goal to be able to fit in my tightest jeans when I return home on Saturday.

This will be hard. Probably harder than stopping a speeding train.

So I decided to document it all for this blog. Because I like to think in my mind that doing something like that will spell success.

I know. Naive.

Day 1 - The White Jeans

I happen to really like my white jeans. I don't even know of they're in season in November. But if they aren't I will call them "winter white jeans". And then they will be.

The white jeans photo was actually taken at the very end of the day.
After hours of sitting in the car.
And driving.
And eating while driving.
And then stopping to eat at Lambert's. Where every dish is laden in frying oil or sugar.
Or both.

They should do something about their sign.

At Lambert's I ate a huge, hot, freshly baked throwed roll. With sorghum and butter. Yum!
And then I ate some deep-fried bacon. (Because bacon has to be cooked somehow, right?)
And then I ate some fried catfish.
And some fried okra.
A loaded baked potato, green beans, and fried apples.

And cottage cheese.

Do we see the irony here?

After Lambert's we went to my sister's house.
On the way there I ate a piece of homemade black licorice caramel that my other sister made.
(Heaven for my taste buds!  I might eat a piece for breakfast. And I do not like black licorice.)

And at my sister's house was a most excellent surprise!
A birthday celebration for ME!

Complete with this...

Smooth and Creamy, Chocolately, Pecany, Deliciousness of a Homemade Cheesecake.

Confession 1: My sisters are much better at this kind of cooking than I am.
Confession 2: I ate a larger portion of this cheesecake than anyone. Because it was just that amazing.

Then I snapped this picture.
And quickly put on something stretchy.

Today was wonderful. It really was!

But I am telling you, did you see that food log???

This is not looking good for Day 6.
Or my new jeans.

Tomorrow I will try Zumba.


(And as I post, it is officially no longer my birthday. Where does the time go?)

Friday Photos - The "Other" Race Day

Once upon a time there were three little races. Spring race, summer race and fall race.

Spring race and fall race were very good races. They were cool. And comfortable. Fun. And fast running.

But summer race was not so very good at all. It was hot. And humid. Hilly. And slow running.
It was not a sub-2:00:00 day.

Some race days are just like that. And that's okay.
Because you get to enjoy other things besides a good finishing time.

Like...

Inspiration.

Here's to those who remind us that our only limitations are those we set for ourselves.

Here's to those who set a healthy example for the next generation.

Here's to those who run to honor the memory of those they love. And have lost.

This family ran for their father who had recently lost his life to pancreatic cancer.

Their tees read, "Never give up, don't ever give up."

Here's to those who run for those who cannot run for themselves.

Here's to those who remind us that no sacrifice is too great, no pain too big, and no cost too high.

Every race weekend of the year this man runs a race with the flag. Sometimes he runs two.

And here's to those who start...

...and finish.

Whether they finish first or finish last, they all have an important story that saw them to the end.

All of them are winners.

And a profound reminder of why I love the race.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Race Day

At the beginning of each year I don't really make resolutions. Or set goals. I like to think more along the lines of "desired outcomes". And for this year one of my most "desired outcomes" was to run three half marathons. And to be able to finish one of them in under two hours.

Recently, I ran my last of those three races. I finished in 1:56:35. Yay!! And that means a sub-2:00:00 finish in two of those three races. Yay, again!!  I won't bore you with the details of this race. Mostly because my grandson is here and I don't want to take time to be clever. Or crafty. Or poignant. Or inspiring. Or any other time-consuming thing like that. I just want to play with him. But if you are interested in reading (a lot!) about this year's first race you can read this post.

http://pointshootspeak.blogspot.com/2011/04/groove-thing.html

It pretty much covers my first sub-2:00:00 finish... And the miserable week that led up to it.

For this year's last race I will simply say that I ran hard. And I ran well. I finished strong. But not too strong. I didn't have much left at the end. This is a good outcome. The best outcome, really. Bonus that I broke the 2-hour barrier. Yay!

And here are a few pics from the day. For your enjoyment. 

Because I know how much we all love enjoyment. And a blog with pics. : ) 

This is me getting ready. I am not stretching. I am putting my timing chip on my shoe. 

It is 6:43am. And way too early to stretch. Or wear a timing chip. 

I firmly believe that all good races should start at 7 o'clock....pm.

My race day mantra. I have a different one for every race.
I write it on my hand to take my mind off the aching legs.
This one says, "Conquer or Die". It is kind of dramatic. And makes me giggle. : )

This is me just before jumping into the start line. It is cold. And I am freezing. 

Lucky for me the start line is smack in front of The Man's office building. 

I walk outside 3 minutes before the gun, jump over gates, climb under guardrails,

 get in line, and I'm good to go. 

If I hear the National Anthem before I make it to the office building elevator I know it's time to hurry up. 

This has happened more than once. Or twice. Or five times.

This is me waiting in line for 2 minutes. It's not quite so cold smashed in between all those bodies. 

I am making a funny face. Probably to find out if I can see my breath in the air.

This is a shot of all those bodies. Thousands and thousands of bodies. 

This is a shot of someone faster than me. He's so fast that he gets a police escort. 

This is a shot of someone braver than me.
Feel free to submit your own commentary.

This is me just past mile three. When I still feel happy to be there. 

Also mile three. But not me. 

I just couldn't resist posting such a lovely fall display.

There were lots of miles between the last shot and this one. Because this is mile 11.
Where I skipped the aid station and passed the chick in green. And the 2:00:00 pace group. : ) 

I would have done the happy dance if it wouldn't have slowed me down.
(And please pardon the scary white belly shot.)

And the big finish. I am there somewhere.

A smile and a thumbs up.
Because it's over. And I made my time. Yay!

And this is where they remove the timing chip.
Trust me. This is not as easy as it looks. 

Because all the leg muscles are screaming. Loudly.
And you have to hold very still. It's torture.

And a lovely parting shot with The Man/Avid Supporter/Guest Photographer/Massage Therapist for the day.

The End 

Okay. So doesn't this just look like so much fun? I think that everyone should run a race. Because it really is so much fun! Besides, you get free food and chocolate milk at the end.

I am not making it up when I tell you that if I can do it, anyone can.

I am not built to run. But I am built to love the things I work hard for. 

I think all of us are.

And because of this I now have 8 half marathon finisher's medals that I proudly display. 

On my closet wall. 

Before I die I want to have 50. Or more.

And now I am going to go play with this crawling, climbing, exploring, giggling, happy little grandbaby guy that has found his way to my house for a few days.

Yay! = )