Back... Again

So, it's been three weeks since I blogged. This was purely accidental. Believe me. I just took a really great vacation, and have really cool pics, of really amazing places, that I really want to share. Really.

But once again, life got in the way of the blog. 

(What??? Again? Geesh!!) 

First of all was Kid One and Kid Two with Grandkid One in town for the week after my trip. 

And I'm not gonna lie. This is the best kind of life to get in the way. 

Because "hang with kids and grandkid" is at the top of my favorite-things-to-do list.

But after that was the kind of life that gets in the way that is exactly nowhere on my favorite-things-to-do list.

It went like this:

A busy last Saturday.

I worked hard and accomplished lots.

My mental incentive was the reward of a late night summer run.

Because I really love late night summer runs.

Hot and humid, gentle breezes, and emotions that only work themselves out with hard and sweaty mileage.

And I earned it.

So less than a half a mile out I was already deep in my head.

And too distracted to notice the uneven sidewalk that clipped the front of my running shoe.

I hit the ground before I even knew it was on its way.

Ouch.

A few seconds on the ground.

And a few more on my feet.

I carefully assessed the damage.

This included sobbing for 18 seconds.

Because that was all I had left of my weekly sobbing allowance.

Assessment:

Knees scraped to bleeding, palm shredded, shoulder throbbing, and a wrist with limited mobility.

But I quickly recognized that nothing hurt as bad as I wanted to run.

Which translated to... Just. Keep. Running.

So I did.

Three miles later I began to encroach upon this week's sobbing allowance.

And I walked the finish.

By the time I hit my door I could no longer move my arm without wincing.

I could not remove my ponytail holder.

I could not squeeze the shampoo bottle.

I could not raise my arm to wash my hair.

Hello ER.

Hello elbow fracture.

And a splint from armpit to fingertips.

Think Abominable Snowman.

True story.

Kindly add "fall while running and fracture elbow" to my least-favorite-things-to-do list.

And so I had quite the week. 

I tried to blog. About nine times. But typing hurt. And nothing inspired, or inspiring, dared escape my brain. 

I could not photograph. No holding a spoon, much less a camera. 

And photo editing? Impossible. 

Piano playing, writing, job interviewing... nope, nope, nope.

So I decided to sit the week out.

Enter this morning and a trip to the Orthopedic Specialist... 

Finally!!

I walked in with visions of brightly colored casts in my head, carefully considering which would make the best summer accessory. 

And I walked out with... 

NO CAST AT ALL!! 

Yay! 

Yay!! 

YAY!!!!

Because apparently this type and location of fracture is best served by healing that takes place with movement rather than immobility.

Now, don't get me wrong. This does not mean it does not hurt. It does. A lot.

And there are only so many ways I can move my hand, wrist, and forearm. Even a little.

But really. In a few more days I will be able to run again! 

And then as I can start adding in the other activities I love. Like holding a camera. And a spoon.

For today, I'm just happy to be back at the blog. (What??? Again? Geesh!!) 

With really high hopes for next week posting some really cool pics, of really amazing places, from my really great vacation.

Really.

(And just for fun...

Fuzzy Me. 

And Abominable Snowman.)

Friday Photo

No introduction needed.

And there you have it.

The Smart Car.

I don't know why, but I find this car to be incredibly annoying.
And every time I am driving behind one I just have this urge to...
To...
To...
Inch up...
And tap it.
Bump it from behind.
Just a tiny bit.
To see if it will crack open like an egg.


I know. It's not rational. But it is what it is.  
And this urge stirs from deep within my being. 
It's very hard to control. 


However, even I was surprised when I came upon this car in the parking lot the other morning and still felt that same urge.
While walking.
So I had to take a picture and tell my story.

And that is the end.
Aren't you glad I told you?


Now I am on my way to the Caribbean for a week away with extended family. I will be traveling with Nikon. Hopefully, between the two of us we can have some far more stellar Friday Photos than the offering of today.

Bon Voyage!

Happy Independence Day!

and

God Bless America!

Rachmaninoff Rocks My World!

It's Thursday. Which is piano lesson day. 

And a reminder that I am way behind on posting the good stuff 

that has happened over the past few months.

Like this...

(Eh...watch the constantly moving fingers.
Not the constantly moving head of the man in front of me.
Or the constantly moving camera as it tries to avoid the constantly moving head.)

And then check this out...

Yup. 

He's finally learned that
If He Plays It, They Will Come.
A chick magnet in the making.

And thank you, ladies, for gifting him the lovely flowers.
That will never die.
We love you, too!!

: )

Puddles of Mud

Last week while babysitting Grandson One I got to experience one of life's great and simple pleasures.

Mud Puddles.

There was no rain, but the sprinklers had done a very thorough job one night,
Leaving the little parking lot dips full of murky, dirty water. 
       An undeniably magnetic attraction for toddler boys.


And so it was in one quick motion that Grandson One was jumping, 
Stamping, 
Splashing,
And squealing.
In the icky little puddles.
        This was very fun to watch and his face was filled with delight!

But it didn't take me long to recognize that his feet and legs were becoming a mess.
And then he bent down and slapped his hands in the water. 
And then he bent over and tried to drink it. 
And so it was in one quick motion that I was scooping up Grandson One.
       To keep him from ingesting the filth.

For some reason the idea of cleaning up his little arms and legs was not such a big deal.
And the messy splashes on his clothes would only need a snappy turn in the washer.
But when water like that goes inside?
       Well, some things can't be undone.

Experiencing this reminded me of a poster I once saw.
It pictured a pair of hands filled with drippy, sloppy, gooey mud;
The hands sharing the mud with another pair of hands,
While another pair of clean hands sat in wait.
And a caption that read,
       "Gossip: Don't Pass it On".

I am not quite sure what it is about human nature that makes this such a difficult task.
For some reason we enjoy the dramatic and the fateful.
And love to exploit the ugly and the weak in others.
And so we share untruths, part truths, or misunderstood truths
In an effort to gain approval, attention, or false admiration. 
Or maybe even in an effort to make sense of things that make no sense.
But no matter the reason, 
       If you play in the mud you are going to get dirty.

I learned a lesson about this the hard way.
I was in High School
And my friend had temporarily left me behind to join a more popular group of friends.
One Friday night they were late to the football game.
I thoughtlessly made a false remark about where they might be. And what they might be doing. 
       That they shouldn't be doing.

And they never made it to the game.
Because instead of doing what I said they might be doing that they shouldn't be doing,
They were actually in a car accident.
No one was seriously injured.
Except for myself. And my friend...
       Because I had slandered her name.

I have never been able to forget that night.
And I have never been able to forget how I felt.
There was nothing acceptable, admirable, or respectable about what I had done.
The harsh reality was that I had been the one doing something that I should not have been doing.
And I felt slimy, dirty, and icky inside...
       Because I had played in the mud.

Over the years I have come to learn that everybody has their own Puddle of Mud.
Their own dramatic, fateful, ugly, and weak.
       And it can be very, very tempting to play.

But just like the other day, as I watched Grandson One jump, stamp, splash, and sip,
And just like the other High School day so long ago,
And regrettably, just like other days since then,
I must remember that if I play in the mud I'm going to get dirty.
       And some things can't be undone.

"Remember not only to say the right thing in the right place, 

but far more difficult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing in a tempting moment."

Benjamin Franklin

B is for Baby!!

And Babysitting.
And Busy.
And Breakfast.

If you've read my post from earlier this week you will know that I have been Babysitting Kid Two's Kid One. And if you're like me, trying to make sense of that at the end of a long day makes the head a little dizzy.
So I'll simplify.
I've been Babysitting Grandson One. Since Monday.

This has been FABULOUS! 
I promise you that there is not a cuter, funner, happier, goofier, or awesomer Grandson One out there!
I am also pretty sure that there is not a Busier Grandson One.
And by Busy, I mean, Constant. Motion.
As in I could not snap a-photo-that-did-not-contain-blur constant motion.
At least with the iPhone.

Exhibit A:

And all week long I remembered that I am older than 27.
Because this is how it went...

On Monday it was meeting for lunch to make the Grandson One hand-off.
He decided to show off his awesome dunking skills.
At the dining table.
By dunking the pepper shaker in my water.
And then laughing hysterically.
I'll admit it. I laughed, too.

Tuesday it was grocery shopping.
Where I remembered that there is no good place in a grocery store for a 17-month old Grandson One.
Because they really, really do not like shopping carts.
And they really, really do like gravity.
And stealthily grabbing and hiding surprises in the cart.

I also remembered that I used to have a 4-month old and a 17-month old that I would shop with.
At the same time.
Which explains a lot about my brain...
Hmm.

Breakfast on Wednesday looked like this:

Grandson One, on the counter, helping me with breakfast.
And by helping me with breakfast I mean playing with my spice jars...

And throwing them on the ground...
And opening them...
And emptying half a spice jar of Coriander seeds onto the countertops and floor.

(Guess what? The dog doesn't know what to do with Coriander seeds, either.)

You should know that I burned 4 pancakes that morning. A new record.

And the Thursday highlight?
It's a fun one...

Me and Grandson One.
In the local hardware store.
Not holding onto each other because he is independent like that.
I turn a corner. He does not.
He hangs back to find a row of glass light covers right within his little Grandson One reach.
I had no idea they were even there.

Until...

Yup.
A big glass light cover launched into the air.
Once upon a time it had been shaped like a globe.
Pretty sure he thought it was a ball.
But it didn't bounce.
Instead it was more like this...

***CRASH***

Amazing.

Grandson One was a little stunned. But did not cry.
I was a little embarrassed. But did not cry.
We just left the store.
As. Quickly. As. Possible.
Sorry. No picture.

(Gladly, the store guy who had to clean up the mess thought it was amazing, too. He even said how super cool the shattering glass sounded. I wonder if he really meant that or if he was just trying to be nice?)

By Thursday night I realized that I really had started the week with every intention of taking awesome photos of this kid while he was in my care.
By Thursday night I also realized that this was an impossibility without the help of an assistant.
Or two.
Maybe three.
Not to mention the brand new "boy mark" on his forehead from a poolside fall.
(Yes, I totally watched as this happened.)
And by Thursday night I also realized that I did not manage to pull my real camera out of its bag.
Not even One. Single. Time.
And I gained a new respect for Photog Moms everywhere.

So instead of really awesome photos, Friday morning we went to the park and I snapped these.
With my iPhone. Again.

Grandson One likes to swing...

And ride...

And slide...

And RUN!!

Away.

From me.

Friday afternoon we did this...

CHALK!!

And this...

Where Grandson One's favorite part was this...

Splash! Splash! Splash!!

It was a joyous week!
And we had to work hard to get it all in.
But we did.

*Happy, contended sigh*

Now it's almost time to start the drive to return Grandson One to his rightful owner.
I feel really sad about this. It's been great having the little Buddy around.
And I am going to miss his Busy little hands and feet.

Even though they kept me from a few things.
Like Blogging. Which also starts with a B.
And showering. Which does not.
Unless you "Bathe".

And Summer Begins - Girl's Camp

You should know that I spent last week at Girl's Camp.
A five-day FunFest involving camp songs, camp food, camp fires, and camp-ing. In cabins.
Also involving high energy, high emotions, high drama, high stress, and high maintenance.
Also involving dust, dirt, heat, humidity, ticks, mice, and snakes.
And spiders the size of small hamsters.

Last year I wrote about the spiders here:

http://pointshootspeak.blogspot.com/2011/06/spider-proof.html

But this year Girl's Camp was surprisingly different from any other year. Ever.

For starters, the weather was...Awesome.
Last year it was hot enough to brand your heel on the sidewalk.
This year it was not.
Instead it was sunny and slightly breezy, with temperatures in the low 80s.
Perfectly Pleasant.
Except for that one night I couldn't sleep because I was...too cold.
Seriously. That happened.

And there was high energy.
But there was not high drama.
Or high stress.
Or high maintenance.
As for high emotions? Well, this is pretty much relative when it comes to teenage girls.
But I will be the first to unemotionally admit that the high emotions were relatively low.
Also Awesome.

But here is the most Awesome part of all.
I did not see even one spider the size of a small hamster.
In fact, I did not see even one large-ish spider.
Till the last night. It was outside.
And I only saw one medium-ish spider.
Also on the last night. It was inside.

The outside spider got to live.

The tick count was low. The mice count was high.
And there were moths.
I learned that some girls feel the same about moths as I do about spiders.
And they scream about it.
So now I have a new favorite Reason-Not-To-Be-Afraid-of-a-Moth quote...

"It's a moth! What's it going to do? Flutter??"

I did not make this up. But I really, really appreciate my friend who did.
Because at 1:00am it made me giggle. For a really long time.

And now a handful of pics for your enjoyment.

Our fearless leader.
Truly. Fearless.

Pretty sure the picture says it all.

Another fearless leader. Also Truly Fearless.

She brought us donuts between the 4:30am sunrise devotional and breakfast prep being complete.

I ate three breakfasts that morning.

And the next.

And the next.

Oy.

There was a fun relay race with these "waterskis".

When they work it goes like this:

When they don't it goes like this:

Fearless Leaders on the ground!

And here is a funny thing I learned about taking pictures of girls. 

If everyone is all dressed up and asked to pose there is much moaning and groaning. 

But slather them in shaving cream and start shooting and here is what happens...

It starts small...

And grows...

And grows...

And grows...

And grows...

Girls just kept running to be in a picture. Until no one within running distance was left.
Truly irresistable fun!

All in all, this year Girl's Camp was pretty much everything you ever want Girl's Camp to be.
And pretty much nothing of what you don't ever want Girl's Camp to be.

There was
Great Cooperation,
Great Unity,
Great Spirit,
Great Fun,
And really Great Girls...
Who on a scale of 1 to 10, I love far more than an 11.
Or 111.
And they are the reason I can hardly wait to go again!

Now on to this week's adventure...
Babysitting Kid Two's Kid One for five days.
So she can go to Girl's Camp.
Could it get any better?

Passing the Baton

For those of you who read the My PR post, this is my after-race report. Because I know you're dying to know.

1. The weather was amazing! Cool, sunny, and slightly breezy. Absolutely perfect running conditions!
2. It was fast running for most people.
3. Not for me.
4. This is okay. I didn't plan for it to be.
5. I got from this race exactly what I needed most.

If you didn't read the My PR post then you should know that I ran each mile dedicated in gratitude to those who have been beside me through some of the toughest times of my life. And this is what I found:

Gratitude begets gratitude.

This is how it went.
1. Instead of a race day mantra on the top of my hand I wrote 13 names on the inside of my forearm.
2. I began each mile with thoughts of that person; how they have served, and how they have loved.
3. I ended each mile with a very full heart. Then a new name stepped in while the other hung back.

A metaphorical passing of the baton.

The beginning and end of each mile was emotional. And profound.
The in between of each mile was serene. And meaningful.
And I quickly learned that I needed many more miles.
Because there have been so many more exchanges of the baton.

This was my tenth half marathon, and of all races, my favorite.
Not because of what I was able to do, but because of remembering that I cannot do it alone.
Nor do I have to.

Bonus: I got to run the entire race...with my hair down. : )

Richly blessed. And deeply grateful.

Embracing the OCD

True confessions:

I sometimes watch shows about OCD.
I sometimes shake my head a little when someone has to check to make sure the oven is turned off...
Fifteen times. And then again on their lunch break.
I sometimes would like to think I don't have these kinds of issues.
Because they are completely irrational. Right?

But then I rearrange the eggs in my egg cartons so they are perfectly balanced.
And I make my bed before getting into it at night. Because I cannot sleep in an unmade bed.
(True story.)
Sadly, there is no denying that even though I don't wash my hands till they are raw, I sometimes do have these kinds of issues.

And now I have a new one.

It has to do with a key. To my car. And little running shorts. With little pockets. Because all shorts for hot weather running are little. With little pockets.

And the story goes like this:

I recently moved and am no longer just a hop, skip and jump away from running trails that go for miles. So now when I wish to run them I have to drive to them.

This is usually okay.
Unless I'm in a rush to get in a long run before the sun goes down.
And it is hot, so I am wearing little running shorts. With little pockets.
And my brain is a little tired.
Yes, this combo only means only one thing.
Trouble.

So...imagine me.
In a hurry.
Fumbling with an apartment key and a car key.
Thinking I'm all clever and will run with just one key.
In my little pocket.

Imagine me.
Still in a hurry.
Quickly putting said key in said little pocket.

And now imagine me.
Closing the car door.
SLAM!

That's right.

Now imagine me at the sound of SLAM!
Realizing that said key in said little pocket is not car key.
It is apartment key.

AAAAACK!!

And imagine me.
Not swearing. I promise. Not even close.
(But I may have stamped my foot once or twice. Like a two-year old.)

And this is how my brain processed this event:

"Dang!! I just locked my car key in the car!! I don't have a car key on me!! I only have an apartment key!!

*thinks*

"Who can I call? NO ONE!! No one has another car key but me!! And my other car key is in my apartment!! With my other apartment key!! And no one has another apartment key!!

*thinks*

"OH, wait!!! I have an apartment key in my little shorts. In my little pocket. Well, at least I can get into my apartment to get my car key.

*thinks*

"But wait!! I DROVE here!! And I can't get into my car!! I am going to have to RUN to my apartment!! AND BACK!!! Grrr...!!"

And I made about this much sense in my head. With about that many exclamation points.

I had not planned a route for this run. I had instead roughly figured 55 minutes out, 55 minutes back and I'd be close enough to the mileage I needed. But now I had to change my plan. And recalculate.

This really should not have been hard.
Except for me.
Because for starters, I honestly had no idea how far away my apartment was from where I parked.
And my apartment was in the opposite direction of where I wanted to run.
And the sun was setting quickly so I had to be sure and finish the woodsy part of my run first.

So what did I do?
Looked at the sun and panicked, of course.
And just started running, trying to recalculate as I went.

Now is a good time for you to know that when I run I experience a complete brain purge.
And I can no longer complete a sentence.
Or do simple math.

Which means one thing...

Recalculation = Miscalculation.

Long story short, that is exactly what happened.
Gross miscalculation.

Way more than 55 minutes out and 55 minutes back I finally reached my apartment.
And my car key.
Then I ran back to my car.
And drove home exhausted.
With jello legs.

Enter the new OCD habit:

Carefully check to make sure car key, not apartment key, is in hand.
Carefully check this again.
Carefully put car key, not apartment key, in little pocket.
Carefully check that it is indeed car key, not apartment key, in little pocket.
Carefully check this again.
And again.
And again.
Then one more time just for good measure.
Sheepishly close car door.
Check key again.
And again.
And again.
At every mile of the run.
Breathe a sigh of relief when run is over and key in little pocket is indeed car key.

*Breath in. Breathe out. Sigh. With a smile.*

So there you have it.
The new habit and the reason behind it.

Trust me. It is completely necessary.
And totally rational.

And make no mistake...I am embracing the OCD!!

Remembering

Memorial Day.

A federal holiday set aside to remember and honor those who died while serving in the Armed Forces.

In commemoration of this day there is one particularly stunning display near where I live.
American flags, 2,000 strong, waving in the breeze, beautifully visible from the highway.
Colorful, proud, and in every way brave.
A majestic memorial to those who died that we might live free.
And in every way I am grateful.

Over the years this holiday has come to mean more than just remembering those who have served in the Armed Forces.
Now we also honor loved ones.
Those who simply served.

So today I am remembering my mom.
And thinking of the times I have wished for her over the past many months.
The conversations I have needed, the advice I would seek for, the tears I would share with.
She carefully taught those who surrounded her...how to surround others.
For that, I have not been alone.

She loved God, family, and country, and helped me understand that freedom isn't free.
And in every way, I am grateful.

Remember.

Happy Memorial Day and welcome to summer.

The Dream

It has been exactly two months and two days since I last blogged. My longest blogging dry spell ever.

There are reasons for this, not the least of which includes a wedding.
And a separation.
In the same month.
It's been a little overwhelming.
And so the blog has suffered, too.

But several nights ago I had a dream.
A very vivid dream.
In it I was wearing braided pigtails.
And cute yellow galoshes.
It involved a trip to a farm for a Large Family Gathering.
(Not my family. Or my farm.)
It also involved tractors, and trucks, and horses, and barns, and cows, and hogs, and...corn on the cob.
There was a large garden full of squash, and peas, and potatoes, and tomatoes, and peppers, and cucumbers, and strawberries, and...corn on the cob.
It was intensely colorful and nothing short of a visual smorgasbord.

But best of all was The Sky.
There was a spectacular storm rolling in, streaking the heavens with brilliant greys, blues and purples.
All streaks swept in one direction, beckoning the eye deep into the horizon.
And then deeper still.

The Large Family Gathering was wanting to talk to me and trying to pull me away from the earthy wonders.
To feed me...corn on the cob.
But all I wanted to do was take pictures of the tractors, the trucks, the barns, the cows, the hogs, the squash, the peas, the potatoes, the tomatoes, the peppers, the cucumbers, the strawberries...
And more than anything, The Sky.

And then blog.

So in my dream I did just that.
And I composed a really good blog post.
Complete with really good pictures.
And I felt happy.
Even though I was up to my knees in rich, muddy, farm soil.

I'm pretty sure that a dream interpreter could tell me all kinds of things about what this dream meant. Especially the knee deep mud.
Or the stormy skies.
But to me it mostly meant just one thing.
That my soul was yearning to get back to some of the activities I love.
Like photographing and blogging.

So after two months, two days, two wedding receptions, two trips, two alternate living spaces, and some really strange dreams away, this is my awkward return to the blog.

Sans photos.

Surely there can be nowhere to go but...
Better.

The Hunger Games

Okay. If you are out there anywhere you've probably heard of it.


The Hunger Games.

A wildly popular young adult novel by Suzanne Collins, about to be released in film around the world. If you know nothing more than this one thing, know that the premise of the book is a televised fight to the death between 24 youth aged 12-18. And only one can survive.

Disturbing. On every level.

I absolutely hate this idea. Kind of like The Titanic. I don't even know why I saw that movie. I mean, honestly. Everybody knew there was no good way for it to end. Including me. And it was not happy. This is not okay with me.

So two years ago it was with great reluctance and much prodding from very Hunger Games enthusiastic friends that I reserved a copy of the book at my local library. I knew reading this was going to be painful for me. In many ways. I have a very soft heart. I hate kids in danger. And I hate to cry. (I realize this part about me is not so evident in my most recent posts.) But after about fourteen weeks of waiting, and just in time to be on a trip where no one would know me, I put on all my emotional protective gear, and opened it up.

And thus began my experience with The Hunger Games.

To say it was a difficult read would be downplaying it. More than a little. And to say that I cried about it would be an understatement. A lot. But this was not at all for the reasons I expected. It was not because of the battles; it was not because of the conflicts; it was not because of the cruelties or the injustices. Nope. It was because of...

Compassion.

And this is how it went.

Me.
And the book.
By the pool.
In full protective gear.
Reading along trying NOT to be disturbed by all the disturbing things I listed above.
And then BAM! Out of nowhere.
An act of compassion.

Then Me.
And the book.
By the pool.
Protective gear completely disarmed.
Tears streaming down my face.
Pathetic.

Gladly, I was wearing sunglasses when the poolside server came to ask if I was doing alright.

And a few minutes later I went back to my room where it was quiet and I could be alone.
I cried.
The Ugly Cry. Which is really a Visceral Sob.
Until I was all cried out.

This cycle happened again and again as I worked my way through the book. It was compelling.  It was stunning. And it completely unraveled me.

I honestly don't remember much more about this book, besides how it felt. And I am pretty sure there are plenty of Hunger Games fanatics reading this and wondering, "What the fudgesicle is she talking about?!?!"

But this is what the book brought to me.
Learning. About compassion.
How I need it. How you need it. And how we all get too little of it.

This weekend I will go see the movie. As will millions of others. Screen adaptations rarely, if ever, offer the full story or character development that a book brings to the table. Especially when it comes to important underlying nuances.

But I will be watching carefully. For compassion.

After all, isn't that what each of us are really hungry for, anyway?

For the Boys - Muscle Cars

The other night, while away on my brief-hiatus-from-life-as-I-know-it, I was invited to tour a private collection of classic cars. I thought this would be fun. I like cars and I like fun. So I went. With absolutely no expectations whatsoever. You should know that this is the best way to do something fun. Because then there are no disappointments from having unreasonably high expectations. If you've ever been really excited to see a movie that you thought would be so good and it wasn't, you know what I'm saying here.

But I am pretty sure that there is not any high expectation that could have left me disappointed from this tour! Because this was not just your average collection of cars. Nope. This was more than 200 of the most incredible classic cars I have ever beheld spread out into 3 separate warehouses. And by spread out I mean squished in, because there was barely room to walk between them.

I took a few pics. A few hundred pics. Today I will share some. On another day I will share more. And maybe on another day some more. As long as you photographers out there don't judge. Really.

So here is a shot looking down the aisle of one of the storage warehouses. It was shaped like an "L". So this is only part of it.

I know. Cars. Lots of cars. And since that lovely Shelby GT is right there in front, I just can't help myself.
I have to share my story. It's short.

I don't know why, but since the time I was old enough to say, "car", I have loved Muscle Cars.

That's all.

Except for this guy had an impressive collection.

First there was this one.

Then this one.

And this one.

And this one, and this one, and this one!

There were even more.

But of all them this was my favorite.

Seriously. I broke out in a sweat when I saw it. And drooled just a little bit. There is no logical explanation for this. It just happened. But apparently I have good taste. Because this car has won awards all over the place.

Dear Most Spectacular 1969 Mustang Super Muscle Car,
Please come home with me.
The End.

There were a lot more classic cars. Of all kinds. And I will definitely have to share more. But for today only one. Because just carrying my camera around and looking like I knew what I was doing (I didn't) landed me a spot in this:

The 1998 Indy 500 Number 9 Official Pace Car.

Now, to figure out a way to test drive these babies.

 : )

The U-Turn

A year and a little bit ago I began feverishly training for an April half marathon. Following a very strict schedule that outlined times and distances with exactness, I spent the icy winter on the treadmill, painstakingly logging and recording every mile to the second. I worked hard, sweat hard, and pushed hard. And with every single run I exceeded my training goal.

I was motivated. 

I was determined. 

I was strong.

This year I am training for the same April half marathon. And today I completed a run. A Completely Awful run.

This has not been my first Completely Awful run of the training season. In fact, Not-Awful runs have become the exception rather than the rule. My strong and determined runs of a year ago have given way to tearful runs, angry runs, frustrated runs, shouting runs (I swore once...out loud), and walking more than running runs. And although I am lighter than I was when I began running five years ago, most of this year's runs have felt heavier than ever.

With the race just a little more than four weeks out I have had to accept the reality that my finish times will not be what they have been. No matter what I do. 

So I'm left with no choice but to recalculate.

(Recalculating...Recalculating... Recalculating...)

I've thought about this a lot. Mostly about how it often seems that the annoying GPS lady is really sending a message about my life. But more importantly, what it means if she is.

I have come to this conclusion: It's all about the U-Turn.

For the run this means changing my direction, not just to the perpendicular right or left, but all the way around. Back to where I began. 

It means starting slow if I have to.

It means listening to how I feel. 

It means pushing, but not too hard.

It means fighting through the pain.

It means slowly gathering strength.

It means running when I can, and walking when I have to.

It does not mean stopping.

Above all, it means getting back to the core of why I run.

Freedom. Clarity. Balance. Strength. Power. Joy. 

All things that have less to do with the body, and more to do with the soul.

All things I can gain without a time goal.

It's pretty much the same for living. Sometimes you have to recalculate. You have to suspend the goal, make the U-Turn, and go back to where you began.

The place where you...

Start slow if you have to.
Listen to how you feel.
Push, but not too hard.
Fight through the pain.
Slowly gather strength.
Run when you can, and walk when you have to.
But do not stop.
Above all, get back to the core of why you live.

And here you can fill in your own answers.

For the next few weeks I will be taking a brief hiatus from life as I know it. And I will train in the altitude. 

This will be hard.

This will be slow.

This will be painful.

But it needn't be discouraging if I can just remember...

Freedom. Clarity. Balance. Strength. Power. Joy. 

And not just for my run. For my life.

Friday Photos - Puppy Love

I love my dog. I do, I do. 

But what I really love is a little tiny fluffy puppy. So when Kid Two called to see if I would drive with her and her Kid One to pick up a new furry friend I was all over it. Not to mention Kid Middle was in town. Can you see the bonuses here? Car time with Kid Two, her Kid One, Kid Middle, and New Puppy all in one day. It doesn't get much sweeter than that! Unless you're on a cruise that day. Like Little Man was. 

Anyway, this happened to be one of the two February days that my camera worked its way out of its case.

And so I will share. 

This is Kid Two's first meeting with this sweet little pup. 

The pup is black. The sky is white. Not the best mix for good photos. But look how tiny she is!!!

This is New Puppy and Kid Two's Kid One. 

I will now call Kid Two's Kid One, Grandkid One. It's just easier that way. 

This is just Grandkid One. 

And I might even like him better than New Puppy. I'm just sayin'. 

He's introducing New Puppy to the instinctive obvious. 

Fire Hydrant.

This is "The Miracle Picture: Boy and Dog". 

I have no idea how this even happened. 

Have you ever seen a 14-month old boy and an 8-week old pup stay in one place that long? Me either. 

Like I said. Miracle.

And this is New Puppy all by herself. 

She can fit in my sleeve. 

She is friendly, and fluffy and everything you could ever want in a puppy. 

And she has a name. 

It is Kaiya. 

The best part? I don't have to potty train her!

Happy Friday!

High Expectations

It's March. This is good.

I did not write even one post during February. This is bad.

I only picked up my camera twice between January 17 and February 23. This is also bad.

But I am going to do better. This is good again.

The End.

Not really the end. But honestly, that's about all I've had to say. For days. Maybe even months. Is your life ever like that? I mean, I've wanted to blog really, really bad, but I've had a hard time coming up with stuff worth blogging about.

And it's been exactly one year and three days since I wrote my first blog post. I remember the expectation I set for myself to blog every day. For 13 days. Which reminds a little of the time decided I was going to teach my kids to tell me 'thank you' when I changed their diapers. It didn't work. In either case. But after a completely dry February I am ready to try again.

So here is my Blog Proclamation to The World.
Well, to My World. Of six.

This March I will blog more than twice.
I will try to include one clever post and one thoughtful post.
I will also post at least one picture.

That's all.

And how's that for high expectations?
I think I have finally figured out the key to my blogging success.
Lower my standards.

January Things

It's the last day of January. 

And with any luck I will actually get this posted before the end of the last day of January.

_______________________________________

You should know that I don't make New Year's resolutions. Because a) They make me crazy for the first two weeks that I try them all, and b) They make me crazy for the next eleven and a half months that I wonder why I tried them all.

So instead, every January One, I just pat myself on the back for staying alive another year and say, "Let's try for one more", then call it good.

But today I was running. In a running skirt. And I realized that in spite of no resolutions I have done some things this January that I never thought I would. So I decided to share.

January Things I Thought I Would Never Do

#1 - Run in a running skirt.

Okay. I have looked at running skirts before. And I've even thought about trying one on. But when push comes to shove I have thought they just aren't me. Enter a visit to my brother a couple of weeks ago when his wife gave me one of her running skirts. Today I tried it. I have to admit that at first I didn't really feel like I should be going out for a run. I really felt like I should be going out for lunch. At the tennis club.

But guess what? Love, Love, LOVE!!

It was the perfect blend of cool and warm for today's weather. I felt feminine and pretty, and breezy and young. Bonus: No visible sweaty crotch marks when I finished. What more could a girl want?

Really. I just might be getting another one of these. In pink.

Just kidding. Not really in pink.

#2 - Run with my hair loose.

Rule number one of running with long hair: Tie it back. If you don't, it gets in your eyes, in your nose, and in your mouth. Not to mention winding up horribly tangled.

But while running in my running skirt today I felt so girly that I just couldn't help it! And I took out the ponytail.

Umm...let me just say...it was liberating. Not just because I broke my own rule, but because for some reason it just felt so good! I WILL be doing this again.

#3 - Buy skinny jeans.

Yes, it's true. You may pick your jaw up from the floor now.

I've talked about my "No Skinny Jeans" rule several times before. And I've been completely committed to this. But in November I bought this really, really cute pair of boots. And for nearly two months they screamed subliminal messages from my closet. "Skinny jeans! Skinny jeans! Must have skinny jeans!" So I relented, and got not just one, but TWO pair of skinny jeans.

And I love them! I really do. Because I got them in a little boutique in a little town. With Kid Four. And they are the first skinny jeans I have ever tried that fit over my calves.

My boots are very, very happy about this. So I am.

#4 - Buy jeans with bling on the bum.

Do we see a recurring break-my-own-rules theme here?

I blame this one on the skinny jeans. They only came with blingy bums. But only a little bling. So I'm calling it okay. Until I'm 50.

#5 - Run in 60+ degree weather. Three times.

I know. I had nothing to do with this beyond getting myself out the front door. And it's not that I thought I wouldn't ever run in 60+ degrees. I mean, I have. But 60 degrees and more is weird for January in the Midwest. And I still have nightmares about last January spent on the treadmill. So I never really thought this would happen in January. But it did!

And if this were a "January Things I Thought I Would Do And Didn't Do" list I could include running on the treadmill. I haven't. Even once. It's glorious. The end.

#6 - Enjoy Utah

And by enjoy, I mean, want to stay in.

Before you Utah people cry foul, you should know that I actually do enjoy Utah when I visit. But I am also usually very happy to leave.

But not this January visit. This visit was different. This visit I felt safety. And peace. And sanctuary.
I have amazing friends and family to attribute this to, and most importantly a God who is good.
So when I left, I cried.
I never thought I would feel that way leaving Utah. But I did.
And I'll keep it at that.

#7 - Only blog twice.

Seriously. I have got to do better with this. 'Nuff said.

#8 - Take my first yoga class. Ever.

I can't really include this as something I thought I would never do because I've been wanting to for awhile. But  a January evening in Boulder afforded the opportunity.

Mostly, my first yoga class ever was a lot like I expected my first yoga class ever to be. Relaxing and therapeutic. And a little embarrassing.

But what I didn't expect was...wait for it....wait for it... CRYING! Seriously. In yoga class! This happened in the first two minutes, about the same time the instructor said, "Appreciate yourself..."  And I spent the next hour fighting the tears. By the end I gave up. Completely.

I never expected yoga to be emotional, but apparently it can be. Next time I will take tissues. Or maybe a punching bag. Just in case a different emotion accidentally pops out.

________________________________________

So there you have it. Eight January Things I Thought I Would Never Do. Impressive, I know. But most impressive is that I didn't have to make one resolution to do any of this. Could a January be any better? I think not!

And so now we move on to February, and hopefully to a whole 2012 full of unexpected things.
Things I thought I'd never do.
And maybe I few things I thought I would do. And won't.