"We're all just fragile threads, but what a tapestry we make." – Jerry Ellis

Bonding and Doctor Who

05 09 14
David Tennant and Matt Smith as the Doctor

David Tennant and Matt Smith as the Doctor

 

Today I was in a blog reading mood and found myself reading a lot of Freshly Pressed material on WordPress. It’s something I only recommend if you have a chunk of time because it’s easy to get lost reading essays and articles with greatly varying topics. It always amazes me to see the polarization of thought on topics that on the surface seem non-controversial. But maybe that’s because I love reading the comments, which tend to be favored by argumentative types.

One of the blogs I was reading had an essay about how Disney, specifically their programming geared towards tweens, was ruining today’s youth. The writer discussed how her daughter started acting like a sassy Disney character and the trouble it caused. It was very well-written, and the comments ranged from the “you’re-absolutely-right” variety to “quit-letting-the-tv-babysit-your-kids” scoldings. Thankfully my kids are beyond the Disney and Nickelodeon show ages, although I have to admit I still laugh at Spongebob cartoons and I liked several of the shows my kids watched when they were younger. (Disclaimer: Some were horrible!)

My family enjoys watching television together, and thanks to Netflix, we breeze through entire seasons in a few weeks. Well, the kids do anyway—while I’m at work they watch episodes without me so I miss too many to know what’s going on after a while. We’ve had the summer of Supernatural, where we all watched Sam and Dean battle Lucifer and all sorts of other demon bad guys. Then there was Lost, where I was literally lost in a few short days because I didn’t get to see several episodes and just gave up. We all enjoy a good laugh together at the antics of Sean and Gus on Psych, Jeremy, Richard and James on Top Gear (the UK version—not the US one) and Darrell and I like getting caught up on Castle episodes. All of these series are mindless fiction, I suppose, but our family has bonded over these silly shows. It’s not a substitute for other family bonding moments, like taking the dogs for a walk in the park or sharing a meal together, but with teenagers you sometimes take what you can get. And I refuse to feel guilty about it.

Emily is in eighth grade and has come into an age where I think I drive her crazy. To be honest, sometimes that feeling is mutual. Not that we don’t get along, we do, but most of the time things I try to talk to her about she tunes out simply because they are coming from me.  Over the past year, Emily has come to love the new (2005) Doctor Who series and basically all things British. Knowing that I probably shouldn’t be wasting any more of my time watching television, I started watching Doctor Who with her, beginning with the first episode with Christopher Eccleston as Doctor Who. It began because I had wanted to see what she was spending so much time and her Amazon gift cards watching. Halfway through David Tennant’s Doctor Who (with a few Matt Smith/Karen Gillan episodes watched out of order) I’ve become a fan in no small part just because Emily loves it so much. My daughter and I have actual conversations about Dalaks, the Tardis and these creepy weeping angel statues.

Do we still have typical teenage girl/Mom arguments and attitudes? Yes, we do. We also have this neutral ground that seems to balance some of the negative. And when it’s just the two of us home for the evening, we’ll have Doctor Who marathons over chocolate chip pancakes. I love listening to her bubble over about something in an episode or some random trivia she’s found about a character. Gone is the moody teen, replaced with the carefree Emily I know is in there still underneath the stress of homework and all things middle school. In the big picture, it’s a small thing, I know. I suppose it would be great to be bonding over world peace instead of something as trivial as a television show. But for now, for just an hour or two, pass the chocolate chip pancakes and the remote. We’ve got a date with the Doctor.

 

Category:

Doctor Who, family, home, teenagers, television

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The Last Lesson

05 05 14

Today I attended my last Girls on the Run practice as a coach. It was a fitting ending—we did the “freeze tag” lesson, which is always one of the girls’ favorite, and as Coach Missy says, “makes great memories for the girls”. Lately I’ve been thinking of how this will be my last season as a coach, and how proud I am for having been a small part of this wonderful program that helps builds character in young girls through running.

The program came to our school, Progress South Elementary, in 2009, through the efforts of Coach Gina—a mom who wanted her daughter to learn the lessons taught the in Girls on the Run curriculum. She put out the word through our Girl Scouts Neighborhood, which I am involved in, and I thought it sounded great. I’d heard of the program through a friend who was a Practice Partner at another school in our area. I replied that I was interested, though I had no prior running experience, and the next thing I knew I was the Head Coach of this team we were trying to scrape together. You needed to have eight girls for a team and somehow we managed to get eight girls by the deadline.

That first season taught me a lot—not only about running, which I learned from my wonderful Assistant Coaches that had been runners for years—but about motivating girls to do more than they thought they could. Sometimes they were reluctant to run at all, but I will never forget watching one of the girls cross the finish line at our practice 5K, red-faced and breathless, full of pride and a sense of accomplishment. In that moment, all the challenges we faced that season became worth it. I also enjoyed seeing my own daughter’s determination and confidence grow as she became a stronger runner with each practice.

The Girls on the Run program at our school has grown significantly since that first season. We now have two teams and are almost filled to capacity each season (that’s 34 girls). We have traditions and our own unique identity as a club at the school. In the St. Louis area, the Girls on the Run program has grown, too. Each season, each race, has become better organized and the processes more streamlined, from online registration and scholarships to moving the race to downtown to accommodate the larger number of race participants. There is now a Junior Coach program that both of my daughters who are no longer in elementary school have had the privilege to be a part of. What a joy it is to see something positive thrive!

I’d be remiss to not mention how much this program has made me a better person as well. Before Girls on the Run, I’d never run a 5K. I think I was just as excited as the girls that first race and I will never, ever forget it. To this day it is probably my favorite race I’ve ever run. And since then I’ve run a lot of 5Ks, 10Ks and two half marathons. I’ve had two daughters that are Girls on the Run alumna and past Junior Coaches—one who runs with me in every race she can and is looking forward to Cross Country in High School. All because I said “yes” to coaching.

A few seasons ago, I stepped down as Head Coach and handed the baton to Coach Kelly, who has five daughters that will be going through the program. She has done a phenomenal job getting our team numbers to what they are today and doing all that it takes to organize 30+ families. This last season I stepped back into the Practice Partner role from Assistant Coach. My daughters are no longer in elementary school and it is time for me to let someone else experience the joy of working with truly awesome coaches and fantastic girls.

To Coach Kelly, Coach Missy, Coach Sheri and Becky, I treasure our friendship. I admire each of you not only as runners, but as mothers and mentors to all the girls who are on our team. To all of the parents through the years, thank you for sharing your daughters with me. They have so much potential and I love seeing that in them—I know you do, too. I hope they see it themselves as well and that they will remember their Girls on the Run experience fondly—and never forget to plug into their positive cords.

So, Saturday will be my last race as a Girls on the Run Coach and I will wear my tutu proudly. We are the girls, the mighty, mighty girls—and I know they are going to continue to roar.

Category:

coaching, family, friends, Girls on the Run, running

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My House Was Clean Yesterday—Sorry You Missed It

04 22 14

I actually have a sign in my laundry room that says that. Don’t get me wrong, I love when my house is clean and in order—I just seem to have a hard time keeping it that way. It’s not because I mind actually cleaning, either, other than there are so many more fun things to do instead.   It’s never bothered me to tackle a dirty toilet or soap-scum filled tub. What bothers me is that no matter how clean my house might be one day, the tendency is to fall back into chaotic disorder the next. Phyllis Diller was quoted as saying, “Cleaning your house while your children are growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing.” Yep. Our family is a little apathetic when it comes to clutter. Or at least more tolerant of it than most.

I watched a segment on Dr. Oz he had about clutter and he pointed out the old tried and true rule, “A place for everything and everything in its place.” It sounds so simple, but I feel like my stuff needs a purgatory of some kind. I am a very visual person, and if it’s out of sight I forget about it, so I like having my stuff out where I can see it. It wouldn’t be so bad except we as a family have a lot of stuff. And, it’s usually items we use on a regular basis. (My son and all his shoes comes to mind.)

Consequently my desk has lots of writing books, cool notebooks/journals, tons of pens along with things I am not supposed to forget to do—like bills to pay and field trip permission forms to return. If I “put it away”, it’s a pretty safe bet that it will be gone forever—or at least until it’s past the time I was supposed to take care of it. I’ve tried different systems to keep it to a minimum, like having a special folder for all my ongoing projects, but then I still need to have the folder where I can see it!

But, hey, I know where my stuff is. As does everyone else who visits.

What I’ve learned is that a mess won’t go anywhere.   In fact, it seems to multiply. The kitchen island is a great example. It starts with a piece of mail I want to make sure my husband notices, so I put it on the island. He comes home, eats, doesn’t notice the mail and I forget to tell him about it. It stays on the counter and is joined by a few other “husband pile” items, like safety glasses and an odd screw I found on the kitchen floor that might be important. In the meantime, the kids notice that there’s empty, horizontal surface space on the counter and add their school papers to the mix. It’s amazing how little time it takes for the paper monster to grow.

The worst part of being tolerant of a mess is that most of the people I admire are naturally organized or admittedly OCD about cleanliness. At any given time I could drop by their homes and probably eat off their bathroom floors. They suffer from the inability to leave a mess or aren’t able to sleep knowing there are dishes in the sink that didn’t fit in the load in the dishwasher. They alphabetize their spice racks. There’s no such thing as a junk drawer. I need my junk drawer.

I like to think that my friends and family understand this about me and think it’s one of my cute, quirky characteristics. Or that dog hair dust bunnies are a new trend I’m experimenting with in my décor. Thankfully I do not have to remind them that they shouldn’t attempt eating off my bathroom floors. After all, they’d have to fight with my dogs if they did that. I have to hope that they love me anyway, even if my philosophy on housework is more Erma Bombeck than Martha Stewart.

Category:

family, home, housework

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Friendships Then and Now

04 17 14

My friend and cousin, Kim, texted me that she wanted to have a girlfriend get together just for fun. Jeans, t-shirts wine and food. Not for any particular reason, or to be the hostess at a handbag/makeup/jewelry sales party. Just the girls hanging out and catching up.

I told her that she needed to hang out with us “old” women more, because truthfully we find any excuse to sit in jeans and t-shirts, stuff our faces and wash it all down with wine. But I understand her dilemma. Seasons of life dictate how we live our friendships.

My friendships at 42 are so much different than the ones I had at 22 and 32. (We won’t even go as far back as elementary/junior high days-whew!) At 22 I was fresh out of college, newly married and ready to dive into a career—it was an adjustment enough just to be working 40 hours a week and having a house to take care of. My college friends and I kept in touch via Christmas cards and the occasional lunch, but it was my work friends that I spent the most time with—great people, but not as deep of friendships that I’d had with the friends I grew up with.

Fast forward a decade and I’m in the throes of being the mother of young children. A stay-at-home mother of young children, and they outnumbered me. As much as I felt very blessed to be staying home with them, honestly there were times I would greet my husband before he even got in the door, talking his ear off, desperate to have a conversation beyond “magic words” and how many bites of vegetables were required to leave the table. There were a few years when I felt like he was my only lifeline to the adult world. I remember praying in the car one night that God would put more friends in my life, and crying over it because I felt like such a loser for having to pray for friends in the first place.

I did get out of the house beyond the grocery store by attending Book Club, Bible study or taking the kids on an occasional playdate with other moms. Those friends really helped me grow beyond Mommy Mode, as we bonded over things like helping each other hang curtains or paint a room in one of our houses. I still craved the days of close friendships with my girlfriends where we went places sans children and were just wiser versions of our younger selves, but I became a new kind of grown up from these friendships—and I cherish them.

Now I’m in a good place in life with my friends—probably my favorite so far. My kids are no longer solely dependent on me—I don’t need a babysitter to go anywhere. Coincidentally, a lot of the friends I’ve made in the last ten years I’ve met through my kids and their activities. My friendships with other women vary in so many ways. Some friends I see all the time, others I won’t catch up with for months at a time and yet we still connect like we always have since seventh grade. In part, I think the reason why I’m in such a good place with friendships is that I’ve gotten better at knowing myself—what kind of people are good for me, and what relationships are not. Many of my friends have fed my faith life and all of them have shaped me to who I am right now. The friendships I’ve had with women who were older than me by decades have taught me that getting older is whatever you want it to be. So, despite wishing I had the metabolism of my twenties back, I wouldn’t want to go back to that time in my life. It’s taken me this long to figure some things out!

I’m hoping Kim will have a chance to hang out with us soon. We might even forego the jeans and wear sweats while we make toasts to friendships with our wine. To old friends and new, who loved us as we once were, love us for who we are now, and will be there for us as we move towards knee surgeries and Depends undergarments. Thank you, Lord, for friends!

Category:

book club, faith, family, friends, wine lovin'

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My Life as an 80s Sitcom

04 09 14

In the 80s, when I was the age my kids are now, families like the Huxtables, the Keatons, and even Mrs. Garrett from the Facts of Life could take any problem wrought with teenage angst and solve it in half an hour. Sometimes it took a “To Be Continued”, but yeah, they were able to talk to the kids and give all sorts of insight and advice and actually be listened to. Did I mention this was on TV and thus FICTION?

Fast forward 25 years. My life is not a sitcom. If it ever were, it’d probably be dropped after a mere three episodes for its lack of Drama. A lack of Drama is a good thing when you have two teenagers and a pre-teen. I’ve never been a fan of confrontation and conflict in real life, even when I was a sometimes dramatic teenager myself. Except when you have kids in middle and high school, Drama personified exists—like it or not. Not so much with my son Tyler, other than his lamentations over playing a bad round of golf during qualifier rounds to play Varsity. (Whole other post there!) But with middle school girls, Drama is mean and nasty, and sometimes she leaves scars.

For some reason, Drama likes to visit our home when my husband is away out of town for his job. And I am not Mrs. Keaton. I try—I really, really try to be that solid, listening ear that knows just what to say to make the girls see the big picture. That middle school is only a season of life, and sometimes friends are mean and you get to move on eventually. I tell them my experiences in middle school that were similar. I hug. I wipe tears. I share cartons of ice cream.

But it’s not enough.

Because when your kid hurts, you hurt. And you want to do battle for them. Even those times when you see how they played a role in Drama’s script. Except in this script there are no Take 5s—the tears they cry are real, and you want them to know it’s all going to be okay eventually.

If my life were an 80s sitcom, I’d come home from the gym with my leg warmers and sweatbands only to find my daughter upset about her school day. It would be something like Jenny inviting Susie, but not her, to the big party. She would confide in me, telling me how sad she is because she thought Jenny was her best friend. I’d console her and in a lightbulb moment of epiphany she’d see how Jenny was just a person who wasn’t meant to be in her life at that time, but it was okay. In the next scene she’d make an even better best friend and forget Jenny, who’d move away to live in Alaska, and it would all be okay. We’d have a good laugh and the ending credits would play. And it would all be okay.

Yet, as much as I hate to admit it, life unscripted is better. It’s better because we as humans have feelings and experiences that grow us as people. These hardships, these trials really do make us stronger and teach us valuable life lessons like perseverance and loyalty. If simple words from a parent kept us from feeling emotions and living life, we’d have been cheated like two dimensional sitcom characters who get to have the ending all worked out for them.

Will my children experience heartache and sadness as they grow up? Of course. Is it sad to see someone hurt them? Yes. But guess what? It is all going to be okay. Even if it’s not all worked out in a half hour.

Category:

family

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After the Race

04 08 14
Amy and I before the GO! Half Marathon 4-6-14.

Amy and I before the GO! Half Marathon 4-6-14.

I ran last Sunday in the Go! St. Louis Half Marathon. The day dawned clear—a little chilly, but no rain. I ran with my friend, Amy, who I’ve been training with since January. As usual, my 20/20 hindsight really doesn’t know why I was so worried. We finished with a time of 2:45:56 (that includes a line at the bathroom in the middle). We had a great race—no walking breaks at all—and at the end I felt fantastic—no knee pain. We even crossed the finish line to Kiss’ Rock N Roll All Nite. Epic!

I learned something this time around about Gu. If you’re not familiar with it, Gu is a product that runners “eat” during a race to keep the carbs/electrolytes in check. There are various other products that you can eat to accomplish this…some people eat Stingers or Chomp Blocks or even just gummy bears or candy. I love the gummy products if I’m going to be able to actually chew and eat them—say before a long run when I’ve not eaten in a while, but during a long run, I just need something simple that won’t have me landing on my face. Gu is the consistency of cake icing. You rip the top off, squeeze and slurp it in. It makes me gag, but I’ve gotten used to it—the citrus ones are pretty good, and so is the salted caramel (my favorite). The chocolate and vanilla ones I can do in a pinch, but I think they’re a little too sweet. In any event, I’ve had training runs where I’ve waited for a specific mileage or time to use the Gu instead of just seeing how I feel. The problem is, you don’t necessarily know you’re in need of Gu until you feel like a deflated balloon and then it’s too late. So at my race Sunday I adjusted when I did the Gu to mile 4 and 9, and I really think it helped me. I know adrenaline at the race also plays a part in your energy level, but moving up when I did the Gu kept my energy level strong.

The other highlight of our race was the Will Ferrell impersonator who banged on the cowbell with his belly sticking out of his half shirt wearing a curly-haired wig. (In the fall, St. Louis is host to a race called the MO Cowbell. Last fall, the theme song for the race was Blue Oyster Cult’s Don’t Fear the Reaper. You have to watch the SNL skit with Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken to know why that song was chosen. https://screen.yahoo.com/more-cowbell-174128899.html) This course-side cheerleader had enough energy he probably could have ran the full marathon, but I’m so glad he decided to cheer for the runners. There’s nothing like running and seeing something that makes you belly laugh. And yes, I’ve been told I’m easily entertained!

Speaking of easily entertained, the Comic Con convention was in town the same weekend as our race, so we got to ride in an elevator with Gandalf, spot a fully decked out Transformer and sit next to a guy at lunch who had buttons glued to his face over his eyes. No celebrity sightings, but who needs a celebrity when you’ve got these people with amazing costumes! The people watching was fantastic.

So to summarize this race/weekend:

  • No logistical worries (those who know me know how I freak out about being late, lost or in need of a bathroom!)
  • Great running buddy! (Thanks, Amy!)
  • No knee pain issues/hitting a wall/sag wagon
  • Awesome personal Cheer Squad of Darrell, Tina, Rich and Anna to see us through to the end

All in all, I couldn’t have pictured it any better. Okay, maybe not hitting that post in the garage at packet pick up. But overall, a successful race—and one I will remember for the rest of my life!

Category:

running

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Time to GO! St. Louis

04 05 14

I always overthink things. It’s not a “tendency” to overthink things. It’s truly an always. It’s a paralyzing character flaw. There are a lot of times when the smallest decision stymies me, causing the sort of unnecessary stress that comes with procrastination. I wasn’t always an overthinker or a worrier, it seems to have crept up with me along with my number of birthday cake candles.  I’d like to think it’s because I’m so intelligent that I weigh every possibility, but I am horrible at strategy games like Stratego, so I’m guessing that’s not it. I’m blaming hormones, because they are my scapegoat whenever I have lapses in energy, bad moods or unwarranted anxiety.

Tomorrow is the Go! St. Louis Half Marathon I’ve been training for since January. I am ready. I’ve put in the miles. I’ve fueled my body with healthy foods and I’m well-rested. I’ve read and re-read all about the course. My gear is packed and I’m ready for any kind of weather. I’ve set up to have my friends and family texted with where I am on the course. Yet I am more nervous than I’ve been about any race before, including my first half marathon last fall. All because I’ve overthought everything about each of the 13.1 miles.

At last fall’s half marathon, I started out so well that I scared myself. I felt so good and excited to finally be achieving what I’d trained so hard for that I was waiting for something to happen that would zap me so that I couldn’t finish the race. It never happened, and although around mile 8 I dragged a little, I found my second wind. Two weeks ago we ran 13 miles in our training run, and I hit the wall around 11, but I made it and it felt fantastic after it was done. In short, I’ve finished whatever distance I’ve been assigned and lived to tell the tale.

So I’m not sure why when it comes to this race I am focusing on the times when I’ve had a tough run instead of the times when I’ve made it through the miles easily. Normally I’m an optimist.

I will point out that preparation for this race has come with some hiccups. First, there was the weather—that endless, snow and ice-filled winter that didn’t seem like it would ever end did affect meeting up with the training team. (But, we ran on our own elsewhere and got the long run miles in, finding some great running trails nearby in the process.) My training team shirt got lost at the running store. (It was found and I picked it up Thursday, all ready to go for Sunday). And yesterday at race packet pick up I hit a pole in the parking garage and mangled my front bumper (I really shouldn’t drive my huge SUV in tiny parking garages—luckily I’m RUNNING the course, not driving it)!

I’m reading a lot more into these events than I should, I know. Just saying aloud these worries forces me to see how silly and overthought they really are. And the optimist in me thinks that I should consider all these goofy little mishaps as “the worst part” and that part’s over and done with.

Trust your training, says my training team coach.

Use that nervous adrenaline to your advantage, says my head.

Just shut up and run, says my heart.

Category:

running

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A Literal Story of Taking Writing Out of the Box

03 30 14

About four years ago, I started writing a romance story by accident. It began with a scene in my head that I kept developing until it became a draft about 100 pages long. In fact, I called the file on my computer “the scene in my head” because I didn’t know what I wanted to call it. I spent hours each day working on it. I dreamed about the characters and the story. I researched drugs, gunshot wounds and police protocol. I cared about these fake people I’d created. And then I just stopped writing.

It wasn’t a purposeful decision to stop. I read and re-read the parts I loved, like I would when reading a favorite book. But my story was never a complete draft. It had holes I didn’t know how to fill and when I tried filling those holes I didn’t like my story anymore. What would I do with the draft anyway? I didn’t even let my husband read it, except for when I had questions about cars and needed his input on a scene. (He only got to read that part.) And really, the premise was pure cheesy romance. Who, besides me, likes cheesy romance novels these days? My characters weren’t believable and I was just a mediocre writer. So I got discouraged and believed all the negative critics in my head. And I gave up.

Writing resources always say that it’s best to put a piece away for a time, even if you’re satisfied with it, to read it with renewed perspective. I thought if I did that, I could return to the draft and re-write it and complete it someday. I put it all in a binder, along with my research notes, my scribbled up notebooks and my books about writing and stuck it all in a box. I unsubscribed to all those writing websites. It felt like it was what I needed to do. There were bills to pay, a house to clean and my family that needed my attention. The box got shelved out of sight where I wouldn’t see it and be reminded of my silly attempt to write a novel.

I had failed.

But I didn’t forget about the box or my story, especially the characters. I’d see an actor on television and think of how he reminded me of one of my characters. Or I’d read a romance novel and think how my story had a premise just as good. Even with the job and the house and the responsibilities, I found a way to fit writing back into my life. I started remembering how good it feels when the words just flow onto the pages by themselves. How I love words and grammar and when a paragraph turns out just the way I want it to sound. Last week I found the box and I had the nerve to open it. And for the first time in four years I thought about taking out that story and looking at it with those fresh eyes I should have by now.

In the short time I’ve been blogging I’ve learned something. What I post might only get read by two other human beings besides me, but I’m a happier person for having written it. My brain works better when I have a creative outlet. In the case of the draft of my romance story, it’s not all about success or failure with writing; it is the process, and I genuinely love it, even those times when I think I don’t. Do I like having an audience for my writing?  Of course.  But while I enjoy when other people like what I write, I need to remember that it’s the actual writing part that makes me a “writer”.  Not how well it’s received or by whom.

Will I ever finish this story of unrequited love that now sits in the box in my office? I’m still not convinced. But I now think it might be time to dust off the binder and at least take another look and decide. It’s time to take my writing out of the box and back onto the computer.

Category:

writing

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Springtime and Daffodils

03 23 14
My cousin, Ruth, took this picture of the daffodils by her garage. Her picture inspired this post.

My cousin, Ruth, took this picture of the daffodils by her garage. Her picture inspired this post.

When I was a little girl, I spent a lot of time with my maternal grandparents.  I loved spending the night at their house, sleeping in Grandpa’s undershirts (even when I brought my own PJs with me), drinking homemade milkshakes and baking fun stuff with Grandma.  Days at Grandma’s—it was always Grandma’s house and Grandpa’s car to me—were full of endless rounds of “Go Fish”, Crystal Gayle records and swinging on the homemade swing in the big maple tree in their backyard.  I’d jump rope on the back porch, roller skate in the basement and type nonsense on Grandpa’s typewriter.  It was good to be a kid at Grandma’s.  It’s true that my grandparents spoiled me, but they also loved me in a special way that no one else has ever loved me—before or since.

Since my mom is an only child, my older brother, Kevin, and I were Byron and Vivian Long’s only grandchildren.  They had grown up in a small town called Rector, Arkansas, and moved to St. Louis when they got married in 1941 so that my grandpa could get a job up here.  Grandma was a housewife.  She never learned to drive, so Grandpa took her everywhere she went.  She was reserved, a little shy even, but with us kids she completely showered us with affection.  Grandpa was one of the most selfless, genuine people I’ve ever met.  He had a silly side that always delighted me.  When our visits would come to an end, he’d do silly, waving dances for us in the driveway until the car was out of sight.  He was smart, too, and was one of those people that if you asked him a question he didn’t know the answer to, he’d find a way to look it up.  Keep in mind this was 35 years before the internet.

Grandma and Grandpa always had a small garden in their backyard.  I remember chasing away the bunnies that would eat the little yellow flowers on the cucumber plants.  One year, though, they had a rabbit Grandma called Bunnikens.  They let the grass grow long in the yard where Momma Bunny kept her nest.  Every Spring Grandma’s house would have flowers all around.  The back of the house had a huge snowball bush as tall as the house.  In the front there were always daffodils that Grandma called yellow jonquils.  They were the bright yellow ones.  I loved those flowers, and Grandma would always cut me a bunch to take home. She’d wrap up their stems in wet paper towels and put aluminum foil around them so I could take them home with me.  It felt like I was taking a little bit of Grandma’s house with me.

Years later, after my grandparents passed away, my parents and I had the task of cleaning out their house and putting it up for sale.  Grandma had died in 1996, and Grandpa lived almost ten more years, living out the last few of them with my parents in their home.  Needless to say, the landscaping in front of Grandma’s needed some attention; except in early Spring when the daffodils were in bloom the area by the front porch needed some color.  In the fall of 2005 when we listed the house, I dug up as many of the bulbs as I thought I could find a spot for at my house and replanted some tidy, boring shrubs in their place.

The bulbs stayed in a bag almost two years.  I never got around to planting them at our house, which turned out to be a blessing because we moved the next summer into a new home where I finally planted them.  Every year they pop out in front of the garage.  Today they are all covered with buds, ready to open this week.  I love seeing those daffodils come up because they don’t care if it’s a long, cold, snowy winter.  They still come up—even in snow—their yellow heads a joyous golden testimony to the inevitable Spring.

The unassuming daffodil will always be my favorite flower; its simplicity reminding me of the unconditional love of two of my all-time favorite people and a time when happiness grew in bunches by the front porch.

Grandma and Grandpa Long--still two of my favorite people who ever walked this planet!

Grandma and Grandpa Long–still two of my favorite people who ever walked this planet!

Category:

family, nature

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Clean Eating Challenge Day 15

03 19 14

Ground Turkey with broccoli and pasta

Ground Turkey with broccoli and pasta

I haven’t posted a lot about what’s going on in my Clean Eating Challenge. The good news is there’s not a whole lot to mention. Other than aside from the first few days of running around like a crazy person trying to find specific items for my meals, it’s not been all that different than the spells I have where we skip eating out and I make all of our family meals. I have taken my measurements, and within the first week I lost an inch and a half around my waistline. I have some “before” pictures to share, but I want to wait to post them with the “after” pictures.

I found a resource called “The Daniel Plan” and I am really liking it (thanks Karen D.). It’s easy to follow and involves your whole lifestyle, including elements of faith, friendship, focus (brain training), food and fitness. The Daniel Plan (www.danielplan.com) was developed in part by Rick Warren, who you may be familiar with as the author of The Purpose Driven Life. The dietary part was developed by Dr. Daniel Amen and Dr. Mark Hyman. It focuses on clean eating, and it had a 40-day element to it, so I thought it was a perfect fit for this challenge. You eat a lot of whole foods, including nuts and seeds, beef, chicken and fish and plenty of vegetables.

The best part is, other than feeling a bit overwhelmed the first couple of days with all the slicing and dicing, I’ve tried to keep it simple. I quickly figured out that making the meals from scratch took me a little longer to cook than just heating up something pre-packaged. I like having leftovers for lunch the next day or even another dinner if it’s just me. There’s nothing worse for me than when I’m hungry and there’s nothing quick for a meal if we’re on the go. I try to grab a handful of almonds if I’m really hungry. It takes the edge off the hunger enough I’m able to think straight and figure out what to cook. Planning ahead seems to be the key for me to stay on track eating healthy.

As far as expense goes, I’m going to be honest and tell you that yes, it’s more expensive to eat this way. However, I look at it this way: if I’m healthier for eating right, it costs less money down the road in health expenses. I read the labels to find the closest things I can to what the recipes call for. If the organic version costs a lot more, I skip it. Maybe someday that will become a factor, but right now I feel that I’ve improved on poking more vegetables down. It is more expensive to eat at a restaurant when you’re trying to be conscientious, depending on the restaurant. Fast food is generally not an option if you’re trying to eat whole foods, and nicer restaurants usually mean meat/fish and veggie or a salad minus all the goodies.

That being said, my biggest stumbling block is the weekend, when everybody’s running around and we can all be on different schedules. I’m glad there’s a “cheat” day built in. I know that technically it’s Sundays that don’t count as part of Lent, but I used Saturday instead this past weekend. I ran a St. Patrick’s Day 7K with my friend Amy and my daughter, Erin, in the morning, and we hung around after the race for the parade. The food options for me were not ideal—I ended up having “lunch” around 9:30 am—a ribeye sandwich where I only ate part of the bun. I skipped the chips, but I did have beer after the race, which I had not had since starting this Challenge.
So overall, I’ve felt pretty good about my adherence to the Clean Eating. I’m probably clean eating around 90% of the time, especially now since the first ten days of “detox” are over (no gluten, no dairy during the first ten days).
The pictures  above is what we had for dinner last night. It was ground turkey and broccoli pasta. Fairly quick to make (under half an hour) and very good. It only had ground turkey, onions, broccoli, tomatoes, soy sauce, mustard, salt and pepper in it, so it wasn’t one of those recipes where you have a ton of ingredients. The pasta was whole wheat—you can use gluten free, but neither Darrell nor I seem to have a problem with gluten, so I just opted for the whole wheat. Yum!

clean living plate 3-14

Category:

healthy eating

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