A Very Special House

Dear Diary,

For as long as I can remember, my grandparent's home has existed. It was white, yellow, turquoise, and maybe even some other colors during its tenure.  In a childhood where I never really felt stable, that house was always a place I felt welcomed and unconditionally loved.  It was my place of stability.  After hearing of the remodel (that I was OK with) and seeing a picture that it was razed (I was in tears), I felt my tummy flip around a bit and really melted down.  As usual, my rock (otherwise known as my husband) reminded me that this is just a place that held many good memories.  Those memories are still there.  I

struggled a bit with that thought, even though I knew he was right.  Then something amazing happened (I hate those ads on Facebook that say this, but I couldn't think of a better segue).

I recently lost my dad to cancer (thats not the amazing part). . .and had a burning need to do something that would make a difference.  I'm just made that way.  I need to do things big, perfect, special, etc.  I tend to over-do everything. . .I think it may even be a family joke.  So, I joined the local Relay for Life.  I created a team of one (myself) and vowed to raise $500 (as my first year at this) and went forward with all my enthusiasm.  Lots of tears were spilled as I went through the process over these last several months.  When I thought I would fail, the other team leaders would hug me and cheer me on.  I felt so taken care of by these strangers I was working with.

I walked a marathon on the weekend of my event.  I sold medals encouraging others to walk a 5K.  I had a booth that gave $100 away to the winner of my fundraising game.  And as I watched my progress approach $500, I was thrilled.  I posted to Facebook that I was close to my goal and both my daughter and sister (from Minnesota, I'm in California) added donations that took me over $500.  I sobbed and gasped as I began to realize what I had.  That day continued on. . .and my fundraising went to $750. . .then $950. . .and I couldn't help but realize that the people that were getting my numbers up so high were the same ones that I met in that very special house.  The people that I grew up around.  The ones I loved unconditionally and now realize they loved me the same way.  So as I am now at $1025 in fundraising, I can honestly say that it wasn't the house that kept me stable.  It was the people that were in it.  The ones that will follow my crazy antics on Facebook and laugh or cry with me, as needed.  Because it's my family that keeps me stable. . .not the house.   Don't get me wrong, I will miss that house, but I've had a much bigger epiphany and I am so grateful for it.

My Vote Counted! Did Yours?

Dear Diary,

I know!  I know it's been a while.  Today, I just need a place to vent.  Here is my experience at the California primary election.  My hubby, a registered democrat, went straight through, got his cards and voted.  Myself, I'm registered as independent.  I get halted at the card station and am told to chose one of five selections.  I was unaware this would happen.  I ask what the difference of each voting choice was and was told I had to choose one and they couldn't influence me by describing anything.  Color me stunned. . .I may as well roll a five-sided-die and see what I get (that was for my gamer kids).  After my refusal to select randomly, one of the ladies turns the five different cards around for me to "accidentally" look at them.  I point to the one that has my candidate on it (and YES, it was Bernie) and say I choose that one.  I am told I must state verbally this choice that I want.  I guess pointing was too general?  I have no clue what to call this choice I needed to make . . . damn those Math and Engineering degrees.  I should have taken English or some other form of Communications.  So, the nice lady points to a location that lists all the possible voters for each card.  I then look at the card I want, find the magic set of words that matches the set of words in that list of five choices I was expected to choose from.  Then the lady tells me I must state exactly what I want.  The words had so little meaning to me, I can't even remember today what they were, but I finally got my card and was able to step up the to voting station.  Meanwhile, the hubby had finished.  Who knew being independent would be such a struggle?  I've never had an experience like this in all the years I have voted.  So tell me, what if I hadn't had someone willing to go the distance to help me out?  What if I had accepted my crap shoot of a card based of the roll of the die?  What if I wasn't strong willed enough to demand that card I wanted?  What if I spoke limited English?  Now, tell me, do you think some votes were lost for my candidate of choice?  I don't doubt it one tiny bit!

Clothing Purge Recommended

Dear Diary,

I am feeling quite accomplished, today.  I am all caught up on laundry.  You would think that only having to do laundry for two (the hubby and I), now that all our kids have grown up, this would be an easy task.  Nope, nope, nope!  My laundry loads just keep growing bigger and bigger.
If our mountain bike gear didn't stink so bad already, I'd make us wear it twice before washing it.  I mean, we only wear those clothes for a couple hours each time.  I know my tush would complain dearly if we got rid of our bike chamois.  That option is out.
Then there is the running gear.  New sport, new gear, right!?!  We only wear that for an hour, max!  I'm going though a gallon of vinegar a month just to keep all this stuff fresh smelling.  Maybe we should just get rid of our regular clothing and live in our sports gear.  Just saying. . .

Coyote Run

Dear Diary,

I hate making my body go running, but I sure do love how I feel after I run.  Shouldn't these feelings be on the same wavelength?  My run, today, was a bit of an adventure.  I, typically, walk an old Army track to warm up before I hit the trails.  Today, there was a young coyote chasing gophers at the track.  I was thrilled and pointed him out to some hikers that were heading out.  I watched the coyote leave on the trail to the right, so I opted to cross the road and run the trail that went left.  That should keep me away from his path.  WRONG!  After a couple minutes of running, I came across a young coyote in the path.  I slowed to a walk and he turned towards me in curiosity and held his position.  He looked like the little guy I had seen earlier.  Why isn't he running away?  Sigh.  I guess the trails are his, today.  I beat feet back to the pavement.  As I looked back, he was loping casually behind me.  My heart rate shot up but I forced myself to a walk so he didn't think I was worth chasing and after a couple minutes he disappeared.  I was so relieved.  I continued my workout doing out and backs from my car.  Every girl needs an escape plan, right?  After all, that little coyote was only about a quarter mile from the parking lot.  Meanwhile, I got a new Personal Record on my run.  I'll take it.

I Hate Water. . .

Dear Diary,

I had to get back on the wagon and write a blog post.  My brother seemed a little down and here is my pick-him-up response.  Salt is bad for you and I hate drinking water.  It always tastes like the container it came from.  I think my FitBit tried to kill me.  As I worked through one of those workweek challenges, I was forced to compete against others for the most steps.  Every night I went to bed #1 and every morning I woke up about 6,000 steps behind.  I blame the time difference.  I was competing with people from Minnesota.  Getting smart, I stayed up late and threw down 20,000 steps in a day.  My calves were screaming.  I ran two miles and walked another two miles later that day out on beautiful Fort Ord, California.  As I went by the vernal pools, I remember having to tell my mother what a vernal pool was when she visited.  Then I had to show her.  They can only be called beautiful.  Kind of like hanging near a deserted portion of the Mississippi River up in Minnesota.  The ducks were abundant.  I just got over a week of being sick and all that walking wore me out.  I went to see the doctor when I was sick.  He told me I had a temp of nearly 100 degrees.  When asked how long I had been running a fever, I laughed.  I told him
that I wasn't sure as I thought I was just having hot flashes.  I wonder if he thought that was as funny as I though it was.  OR it was my fevered brain that made me think I was funny.  I was sent home with instruction to 'drink more water'.  Guess that's a family trait.

Page/Life Refresh

Dear Diary,

I have a confession.  I slacked off on the writing of my book pretty much the whole month of February.  Every time I sat down, I had so much going on in my head and I would get overwhelmed.  On the bright side, my California writing buddy has given me so many tips.  It turns out that running a log at the bottom of my page (on the computer) was a way to get these thoughts down before they got lost.  I now have one wicked (read amazing) outline for my book and as I sit to write in this new month of March, I am finding my momentum is back.  I am so thankful.  Meanwhile, I saw an old friend from my Minnesota days over a long lunch, today.  I don't think we have seen each other in close to fifteen years.  It really brought back some fun memories.  Although, it did feel weird for me to think of his kids as all grown up.  I should know better since they are the same ages as mine and my kids
are all grown up.  I guess I think of them as the age I last saw them.  I invited him to my big "Half Century" party in May.  I hope he comes.

Happy Thinks

Dear Diary,

I've been having the strangest dreams.  I, consistently, wake up from them around 3:00 a.m.  Sometimes I remember them and sometimes I don't.  What I do know is that my dad has been in a lot of them, lately.  In my awake times, I have these bizarre moments in the day where I think about dad.  Some are quite odd, like can he see me running/riding out here on Fort Ord?  Will he send me a spirit animal to say "hello"?  Was that Bobcat a sign?  These aren't even things I would ever have associated with my dad.  Then there are moments where I am in my own world and completely unaware that he is going to sneak into my thoughts.  I will be checking in on Facebook to see what my Minnesota family is up to and I see a post with Dad's name in it.  These always make me cry.  I think its OK for me to be sad and miss dad, he was my dad.  But when I see others miss him too, it stuns me.  Then it makes me realize how much more he was.  He was more than my dad.  He was a bit of something to others and we all miss him just a tiny bit (or a lot).  Is it wrong to be a little jealous that others cared about him too?  My cousin will be doing a firefighter stair climb.  And recently he has posted, "This year while I am climbing the 69 flights of stairs I will be thinking of my uncle Lane that passed away this year."  I wish I had the stamina and strength to join him, but you can be sure my heart will be right there with him.  Because I am now a little bit pleased that dad was special to others and not just plain ol' dad.  Meanwhile I will continue to run 5Ks each month this year in his honor.  It won't get dad back but it makes me think of him and I don't mind that so much.  My thinks are surprisingly happy thinks and that can only be good.