O Christmas Tree

Well, not to be redundant on intro BUT it's been such a long time since writing that I forgot how to log in to this thing.  Maybe that was because of my lack of patience which I seem to have used up during the 45 minute ordeal in which I tried to reason with my toddler regarding acceptable Christmas Tree Ornament Etiquette.  "Is this a thing?" you ask.  Well - lots of non-things become things when trying to reason with a two year old.  (oxy-moron).

Old book ideas - abandoned; New book idea for toddlers:  Acceptable Christmas Tree Ornament Etiquette for Toddlers.  Fully illustrated with diagrams for easy understanding!  Special section on "Why It Seems Ok to Ignore Your Mommys' Instructions Because You Are Wailing On The Couch."  (true part of my story...I left the room I wouldn't begin my own fit of rage and heard crying from the living room ongoing for 20 minutes.  At the conclusion of said 20 minutes I had collected myself (because I'm the adult here, right?!) and calmly and serenely indicated that it was now time to fix hair.  My daughters defeated and sniffly response was "no, mommy....no.  I'm still crying on the couch.")

Other sections:

1) Basic Tree Rules: Only Look With Eyes
2) Throwing Ornaments Is Not Kind
3) Climbing Is Never OK (But laying on the tree skirt under the tree may be)

It would be a best seller, amiright.  The only prerequisite knowledge required of the toddler market is how to read.  Shockingly enough, when typing "teach your toddler to....." into the google bar, one of the first things that pops up is "read."

Good.  We're all ready for this.

I actually felt happy to be going to Wal-Mart after these exciting events...all my SAHMs, can I get an amen?  At least to make me feel better?  I'm trying to get a feel for the market of my new book here...

(Oh my, yes things get a little dramatic around here but that is to be expected out of such an expressive and otherwise delightful 2.5 year old.  Kids keep things interesting and certainly never boring.)

And I hope everyone relating to this is now enjoying a peaceful moment this afternoon, as I am.  Mint green tea and kindle in hand I wish you Happy Naptime.  Cheers!

And Then I Tried to Make My Toddler Eat Baked Beans

It's been a while!  Various celebrations have transpired since I posted on here.  I promise to be more diligent; I don't know where the time has gone.  I started making and selling wreaths to friends, family and on Etsy, but that's not really a great excuse....Nor is my laundry in "completed" status...please, I beg of you, don't inspect my kitchen sink.  I'm going to go with "I've been on a hiatus to foster creative thought."

Whatever.

Mother's and Father's Day have come and gone.  The Annual Parade of Birthdays is complete, almost.  Today was my anniversary of 8 years.  All of these holidays and milestones just keep coming and my years keep growing.  I have heard old people say all my life that it goes all too fast.  Well, I must be old, because it's going all too fast!!!  I want to save the image of my little girl playing in the dirt with her cousins, wearing her watermelon dress on Father's Day in my mind forever.  I want to remember the thoughtful gifts and gestures my friends and family gave me and did for me on my birthday (mostly I still remember the food related gestures.  I can't help it.  Priorities.)  I need to hold in my heart the pleased looks when we all spent time with each family member on their own special day.  I want to remember the delight of my little girl when she told everyone "Happy Birthday!"  Even though it may have been a few days past and maybe not the right person...

But one thing I don't want to remember:  The battle of wills that come with parenting a toddler.  My little one is two and is fairly well behaved, nice and sweet and wonderful 99% of the time and I really can't complain.

But then.

Then I tried to make her eat baked beans on my mom's birthday.  You would have thought I tried to make her eat a dead, rotting frog out of the yard.  Nothing says "Happy Birthday, Mom" like 45 minutes of howling and hysterical crying, except maybe 45 minutes of continuous whimpering with intermittent flinging of oneself onto the ground after that.

And they were really good baked beans!  She should be so lucky!  Two is too young for the "some kids in other places don't have any food to eat and would be so happy to have these very beans."  I know, because I've tried that angle.  I got a blank stare in return.  Not only did I waste copious amounts of energy trying to force the eating of the beans, but somehow my little two year old tricked me into saying things I swore I would never ever say.  TRICKED!

Fine, I'LL eat your beans.  But I will force feed a bite into your mouth, first.  (parents, this method didn't really work out for me...)

Happy Birthday, Mom.

The Coffee Conundrum, Tuesday Morning and Other SAHM Quandaries

I recently brunched in honor of a friend's birthday. We went to a fun place in OKC and had deliciously strong coffee and some really tasty food. The coffee was piping hot. But then, I kept getting good service....a little too good. The waiter kept filling my cup so it mixed with my old coffee, resulting in an increasingly colder brew with each pour. Because of his fantastic serving abilities, I ended up with a big cup of lukewarm coffee. I thought about pouring it out before each refill, but that may have caused a scene. Next time I think I'll fling my hand over my cup in dramatic fashion to prevent additional coffee until it's fully empty. But what if I end up not getting a timely refill...I've pondered this for weeks and concluded that tepid coffee is better than no coffee, amiright....

Ok, you guys...I just deactivated and re activated my Facebook account in the last 5 minutes. I can't go through with it. Anyone else feel that it's mere presence is thwarting the growth of real life relationships? Anyone else feel anxiety when they can't log on and see if they missed anything?? I'm too damn nosy to delete the thing. I just need a creeper account. (That and one cup of piping hot coffee, followed by a brand new cup with new piping hot coffee. Did we just solve the coffee conundrum? I think we did. BOOM.)

Speaking of nosy, I know some of you are, and I'll just go ahead and tell you we ate brunch at Kitchen 324. It was super delish and I will be going back. I tried the strata, which was really good and I want to try the fried green tomato Benedict. It was difficult to wrap my head around eggs Benedict but with a fried green tomato...which seems to be everyone's fave. Eggs Benedict is a solid dish that I feel you shouldn't mess with so I'm skeptical, yet willing to taste test.  BUT the main reason I must return is to try the pastries. I'm a sucker for those. I seriously can't make it out of Panera, or Wal-Mart for that matter, without adding a scone or pastry. The next time you go grocery shopping at Wal-Mart, buy a Heavenly Cheese Danish in the bakery area. That's what it's called, not what I named it, and I can't look directly at it without buying one. Disclaimer: not a health food...

I wish I had a pastry.

And coffee.

But instead, I have a half written post and a bed calling my name.  Actually, that's my toddler. Guess we will make this a To Be Continued...be on the edge of your seat for info on Tuesday Morning and SAHM Quandaries. (Definition of quandary-state of thinking after writing the word quandary)

To Be Continued...

More Mother Running Fun

I am on the fence about possibly running the Memorial Half Marathon in OKC.  I need to get this nailed down because I don't want to begin running 7+ milers on the weekend for no reason.  I'm sure it would be in the best interest of health, but I find "in the best interest of health" non-motivating.  When I first started running back in 2009, the only reason I would go is because I made a deal with myself that every 20 miles logged I would go get a drink at Starbucks.  If I didn't hit the 20 miles, no coffee for me.  I kept a log on the fridge and that was pretty effective.

I can't really do that now because I can make my own lattes with my Nespresso machine at my house, which may be the best Christmas gift in the history of my life.  They are not paying me to say that (maybe they should) nor are they giving me any complimentary Nespresso capsules (I know they should do at least that) which would be nice because I'm already close to out of the 200 or so we purchased at Christmas...hmmm.  That's a latte drinks.  (Please forgive me for that...)

I'm sure the amount you care about how much I do or don't want to run some half marathon and the amount I'm in love with my espresso machine is little to none so I will also provide you with the top five reasons Can't Hold Us by Macklemore is my primary running jam at the moment.

Top 5 Reasons Can't Hold Us by Macklemore is My Primary Running Jam at the Moment

1.  Cowbells

2.  Clapping

3.  Mackelmore!  Love. Him.

4.  There is some serious low brass going on.  I picture someone running after me blaring at me with a trombone.

5.  The lyrics...This could be a really long reason but I'll shorten it to say that most of it just gets me really pumped up especially because when I run I'm like a great white shark on shark week....

6.  There is a personal shout out to me at the 3:38 minute mark.  He distinctly says "That's Rachel right here".  Listen closely.  You'll agree.

I can count to 5 but I threw an extra one in there just for YOU!

Cheers!

Wait for it....

I usually don't write about anything too serious on this blog, and I try to avoid social/political/religious issues because, as you can see from past blog posts, I just keep it light, non-serious and attempt to keep it humorous.  HOWEVER...I have been reading www.shereadstruth.com on a (somewhat) daily basis and the task assigned to me and everyone else included reading and reflecting on Psalm 130.  So that is what I am about to do.

The book of Psalms started as one of my favorite books of the bible because it is poetry, mostly written by King David.  I did that thing in high school where I deemed myself as artistic and wrote poetry and channeled my dark and twisty self by writing artistically.  I still have my composition notebook that holds a somewhat humorous but not intended to be humorous collection of poetry about love, life and how much I ended up hating that one boy I briefly dated.  If I was brave, I would post a sample just for your amusement.  I'm not that brave so you will just have to trust me when I say it is pretty ridiculous....this point being I loved reading Psalms during that time in my life based solely on the fact that it is poetry.  (and also I was always trying to pinpoint the psalms in which David had that thing going on with Bathsheba.  oooo I needed the drama!)

I still really enjoy the book of Psalms because of the simple truths that can be found there.  Most of these were written by King David, like I already mentioned, but reading my bible notes it says Psalm 130 may have been written by Hezekiah, but its officially by anonymous.  (I should make sure my little book of poetry is officially by anonymous...)  In Psalm 130 our psalmist eloquently says a few things about forgiveness and waiting:

1 Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord;
2 O Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
to my cry for mercy.

3 If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins,
O Lord, who could stand?
4 But with you there is forgiveness;
therefore you are feared.

5 I wait for the Lord, my soul waits.
and in his word I put my hope.
6 My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.

Verse 3 and 4 are legit.  Thankfully, God is better at forgiveness than I am.  As I get older, I see that everything carries weight in life.  When someone wrongs me, depending on the severity of the wrong, I can usually, eventually muster up forgiveness and all is good.  When someone wrongs those I love...well, I find it less easy to forgive.  It's can be easy for me to tally up wrong doings of the party doing the wrong.  I can create a pretty detailed list.  A record, if you will.....The good, wonderful and amazing news is that The Lord has no record of sin, only a sea of forgiveness.  I know that to be more Christ-like I need to strive more toward the sea of forgiveness thing...It warms my heart to know that of all the things I fail at and need forgiveness for, God has no record!  He only has an abundant store of forgiveness and love waiting to lavish on us.  How freeing!

My favorite part of this passage happens in the next two verses.  I can feel the waiting in this verse.  On the forgiveness scale I think I could muster up about an 8 but on the scale of waiting I'm about a 3.  Waiting is not my forte.  If you want me to ruin my, and probably your, afternoon put me on hold for 30 minutes with customer service and then send me back into the touch tone portion of the call...Whoever started the "put your number in for a call back" option deserves a medal!!!  Learning to wait is one of the tougher lessons I have learned/am still learning.  I fully believe that the things we work hardest at completing and accomplishing end up meaning the most to us.  The Lord teaches us different things through all kinds of circumstances, good and bad.  Often, I learn the most through periods of waiting.  I want my very being, the depths of my soul to wait.  To patiently wait and listen.  I think of it as soul conditioning.  (Those circumstances I was talking about are kind of like those conditioning tests we took in Elementary PE.....but for our spiritual life, to break it down in a very cheesy comparison!)  These two verses challenge me to wait. To be still, patient and quiet.  To listen and wait for Him as he gently leads my soul.

And those are my thoughts on Psalms 130.

Until next time!

Enjoying the Christmas Hangover

I just need to take a moment and apologize for not spelling ad correctly a few posts ago. The bad thing about having a blog is that everything you publish stays.

Christmas this year equated none I've experienced so far. Having a child of my own brought such joy and simplicity to the season. It was her second Christmas but she was more aware this year and has developed enough to show excitement and anticipation for Christmas day. I wont forget the sweet little voice chanting from the backseat of my car, "Santa! Presents!" Or the nightly request to read the story about Jesus's birth.

I tucked into my heart the night my little family drove through the Yukon lights and that sweet baby said over and over, "lights! Fun." I'll remember forever the excitement on her face with each lighting of the tree. I am so thankful we live near our families this year and for many to come!

I'm not ready for the holidays to be over. Not. At. All.

So I'm leaving my tree up all year. Just kidding. I took that thing down two days after Christmas so I could breathe again (scrooge). I am not quite ready to delete any yet to be seen Hallmark and/or Lifetime Christmas movies from my DVR. So, until May or so you can come here for Christmas TV movie reviews.

Until then, cheers.

Recipe for Disaster

This would be the name of my cooking show; pun intended.

Am I the only one that has a fake cooking show while baking?  I bet real hosts of cooking shows don't need a change of clothes halfway through the episode nor do they use approximately 10 different measuring cups when only 3 are needed if simple fraction addition is applied correctly.  BUT You know what else they don't have?  Mad spatching skillz (skills using the spatula).

These qualities should make marketing my show THAT much more easy.  Who wouldn't want to watch such whimsy?  It would make every housewife in America feel good about themselves.  Cooking with realism.  It's powerful.

In other news....

Child=napping.
Starbucks drink=demolished.
First Christmas present of the season=purchased.
Kitchen sink=clean.

Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

Application, Schmapplication

Today I spent approximately 3 hours applying to one single solitary school district. had to get in the closet, avalanche. Ridiculous requirements, including a shock of my hair and a copy of my foot print.

**This is a draft I just published from 2010 when I briefly moved to Houston so I could go on the "Parade of Jobs."

That's all.

Don't Let The Man Get You Down

You're welcome.  I decided to allow adds on my blog.  Then I changed my mind.  Just wanted to keep you updated on the level of care.

Add free for your ultimate enjoyment.

Plus I'm lazy and I didn't want obscene advertisements and the list of choices to block or not block had approximately 20 pages and now I blog in run-on sentences and the quality of writing is just way down here with the be verbs and whatnot abounding and I don't think getting a $10 check every three months for my blog is good for my self esteem and The Man is just peeking around every corner of every advertisement; they can't fool me.

Winning.

Other wins today:

Positive potty experience (I am referring to my toddler, no I'm not that weird.)
Homemade fried rice AT LUNCH (I'm like freaking suzy homemaker, although I'm sure suzy would go ahead and cook dinner but I'm using this as a reason to NOT cook dinner)
Un-monetizing my blog (I'm so free right now I might just float away)
Acquiring a spot in the queue for an emergency bug spray this afternoon (I killed multiple spiders and such in my house, a win? not so much...although its more of a win for me than my little buggy friends (read with accent))

Until next time (when I tell you about how I got kicked out of the free food tent at the race Saturday) Keep your eye on The Man and cheers!  

If I've taught you anything, it's to watch out for The Man.  And trip him.  (Just say no to advertisements).

PS-I solved for "X" Saturday morning at the race.  X = sore hips and knees and a race time reflective of the rest on the side of the road around mile 10 for a sock adjustment...and then a few minutes later I was still sitting.  But over all, it was a really great experience.  We saw our friends, enjoyed the scenery, ate really great food and I finally got my husband hooked on running so that was a win.  I can't wait to get my toe healed so I can beat the pants off him at the next race.  Babe, I hope you read this.  But I'm sure you won't, because you never do (we have a real healthy relationship, y'all.  No really.)

Don't Want Nun

Feeling old...being tailgated by a nun in a truck says something both about my grandmotherly driving skills and where I live.

Had lunch with one of my oldest and dearest friends today, there's a briskness in the air that I love and a whole pot of afternoon coffee waits for me.  My sweet baby sleeps soundly and all is right with the world in this moment.

Except for all the laundry.  Why is there so much laundry?!  It's like a horror film with cotton and soap.

But I'll worry about that tomorrow.

Cheers.

Fall Fun* Take II

"Disclaimer: this post contains warm and fuzzy content. I am not my usual sarcastic self. I blame the autumn wreath candle I'm burning. Usually, by this time in October I've posted at least three blogs on fall, my love of fall, sparkly pumpkins, lattes and whatnot. It's not that I don't care about it this year. Don't worry. I've consumed at least three times my body weight in pumpkin and or spicy coffee drinks and broke out my decorative pumpkins and wreaths on time (read way before most normal people). It's just that I've been working on potty training my child. I never knew"

When I posted this before, what I was going to say I didn't know was "how consumed I could be by pee, but I won't bore you with my daughter's bathroom habits so here's a story all cozy and smiley about pumpkin pickin'"  but what I don't know now is how I deleted my warm, fuzzy fall post about the pumpkin patch, veggie soup and family!!

Blogger, you're fired!  I mean me.

I'm my mom.  

*Fun, meaning, Posting Shenanigans.  Just directly substitute.

Cosmos vs. Me, it's like 4 to 0, y'all.  The other three points were scored early last week while cleaning up TeeTee.

Adventures of a Mother Runner

I have an equation I need help solving.  I know, I know....why am I asking you to do Math when, clearly, the post title indicates the content should be running.  Well, impatient.  You haven't read the equation yet!

(Toe fracture+3 weeks off the already shortened 10 week training plan)/5 hours of sleep the night before the race=X

Solve for X, my friend.  That's what I'll be doing early this coming Saturday morning.

In all seriousness...I am not looking for a record breaking time (thank GOODNESS).  I run this race, which is the Chosen Half Marathon, to show my support to some of my most dear friends as they raise funds for their adoption.  I will run with gusto, walk with pride, hobble in support.  I aim to cover every inch of the course, even with pain if it amounts to that.  They have taken their journey in stride with pain and joy.  I know that the emotions and feelings I have during a race pale in comparison to what they have been through, BUT I pray they know just how much they are loved and supported by their friends and family; how much we have cried and rejoiced alongside them.

BATTLE CRY! "Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever, Amen!"  Ephesians 3:20-21

(Two posts in one day - Bazinga!)

It's Fun to Read Good Books

The last few months have been fairly uneventful.  I'll try to get back into writing at least once a week.  I read a few books that I've been meaning to write for the last 10 years.*  The first one being The Poisonwood Bible.  This book jacked me up, and by jacked me up I mean made me think outside myself.  Unfortunately I'm guilty of getting tunnel vision, obsessing over needless details like home decor and pop culture.  While hitting me on the head over worrying less over stupid things that don't matter it simultaneously screamed at me to pay attention to details that do matter and to appreciate the small things in life (like my daughter waking from nap time and barking like a dog to entertain herself while waiting for me to come get her.  That's happening.  Right.  Now.)

My favorite quote from the book:

"To live is to be marked.  To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know."

Barbara Kingslover said everything I've wanted to think or say about the world in this story.  She summarized my thoughts about those who are in need and the irony behind the world as far as what helps or hurts better than I ever could.  I read the book and felt like I could take a whole breath afterward because my incomplete ideas finally came fully into being.  What a gift, to be able to write like that.

Loved.  It.

I'll try to be back with less reflective bally-hoo such as reviews on my new iPhone 5c, baby girl's Halloween costume and my love/hate relationship with Abby's Ultimate Dance Competition.  (I just completely contradicted everything I learned when reading The Poisonwood Bible...  Perhaps....something to think about:  how can worrying over stupid things that don't matter and appreciating the small things in life look the same....but be so different?)

(In other news, it's surprisingly easy to break a perfectly great and fully functional Kindle.  Amazon, you're out of the will for not offering repair services.)

*This was actually a typo but turned out to be more truthful than what I had planned to write so I left it for you to enjoy, dear reader.  Don't overlook the irony.

Cheers!

Chronicle of a Homemaker

I would call it "Chronicles of a Homemaker" but I'm too relaxed (lazy) to write more than one.

It's totally stressful to get my to-do list (DVR list) completed during nap time, but, don't doubt my commitment to getting it done.  I'm watching The Bachelorette like a maniac right now.

Let me just say that Juan Pablo speaks wisdom.  He's just a simple guy looking for someone to share "the little things" with, in his words.  Thank you, ABC, you made me stop and think about appreciating the small things (like Juan Pablo's....nice.....accent).

Let me point out that the to-do list does include dishes and laundry but I added eating peach cobbler just because I'm an overachiever.  You're welcome.  Or, actually, I'm welcome.

I still need to detail the makings of said cobbler, but the eating of the cobbler has made me sleepy and lazy so I'll leave you on the edge of you seat.  OR I'll just use short phrases to re-cap.  (I forgot what this is called and Google seems to have eaten the same amount of cobbler I did because it was of no help AT ALL when I googled "writing with verb phrases", which I'm not even sure these are called.  (I just solved the mystery of the missing cobbler.  I blamed my husband but it turns out Google is a sneaky biotch.))

Knife slipping.  Peach juice dripping.  Pie crust crumbling.  Toddler playing.  Toddler running.  Pans piling.  Toddler clinging.  Time slowing.  Peaches baking.  Mommy eating.  A Lot.

I made myself leave just the tiniest bit of cobbler for my husband.  It's addictive, so that was a feat.

Back to the to-do.

Cheers.

PS-I hope you aren't looking for actual substance on this blog.  You have to read my book to get that.
PPS-I don't have a book.  JOKE'S ON YOU!

10 Year, 10 Schmear

My last post occurred right before the tornadoes hit Oklahoma.  I blogged about nonsense, closed my computer and then turned on the TV to watch as the huge, destructive tornado destroyed Moore.

Ironic.

You know what else is ironic?  Attending one's high school reunion.  (and also that high school is two words.)  I felt like I was getting ready for the first day of school.  I had a panic attack over what to wear like nothing I've seen for at least 12 years, well, since the first day of 7th grade.  (I'm exaggerating.  I wasn't that worried over my outfit, but I had no idea what to expect.  First day of 7th, on the other hand.  THAT is no exaggeration my friend.  7th grade is no joke, either; talk about anxiety.)  The good news is that I survived and even enjoyed the event.  I had no awkward encounters, which stems solely from the fact that I dated people in the grade ahead.  As discussing this fact with an old friend, I added this piece of important advice to the list handed down from my mom, to be handed down to baby girl: Don't date in your own class so as to make the class reunions less awkward.

This advice follows "Don't forget it's really slick right after it starts raining" and also "If you get kidnapped, let your kidnapper shoot you before getting into the car with them."  Terrifying, right?

I ended up posting nonsense again.  I hope posting nonsense doesn't always lead to horrific natural disasters.

I'm scared to turn on the TV now.

I'm being forced to read.

i.e. eat cobbler (which, in itself is another post, as far as how this cobbler came into being)

Cheers

Nothing Says Midlife Crisis like a Light Blue, Speeding PT Cruiser

I'm experiencing a small adjustment period from moving from a town that contains a major university with 50,000 students to a town with a small community college with roughly 2,500 students.

What happened to perpetual happy hour?  Why are there people at the nearest Lowe's shopping at normal daytime hours making purchases for things like lawn mowers and landscaping tools instead of shopping for beer pong table and beer bong supplies?  Where did my value movie prices go?  Most importantly, who is tailgating me now?  Not young 20 somethings learning to drive outside of Houston for the first time on roads with less than 6 lanes.  No, no.  Now that I have migrated north I'm still getting tailgated, but, instead, it's by middle aged men going 10 over in PT cruisers.

I used to be the one tailgating, but it seems that my husband has worn off on me and I act as a "traffic calming device" at least 60% of the time.  I will admit that as I have become more wise with old age my eyes have been opened to the importance of driving just slow enough to irritate those behind me.  Patience is a virtue.

(Just trying to keep it safe...)

Nap time hours don't last forever so I'm off to read (watch daytime television).

Cheers!

My Heart Aches

Last week left me with an overwhelming unsettled feeling.  The Boston Marathon bombings brought questions about humanity, the West exploding fertilizer plant added more questions about God and finally the horrible news of our best friends' adoption falling through really had me wondering why.

And I still am.

I know in my head that hardships create an opportunity to develop character; to get to know yourself, God and your loved ones in a way you never have before.  But my heart feels like its going to explode.

I feel humbled.  Beyond any feeling of humble I have felt before.  I take every single good thing I have for granted.  I cannot let one more day go by that I don't look at the man I married and count my lucky stars for his goodness and strength of character, I can't let days go by without squeezing my baby girl tight and appreciating everything that she is and does.  I can't forget that I am one of few in the world with a roof over my head, more clothes I could ever need and plenty of food to eat.  My family lives in peace on a daily basis and I don't have to worry for their well being.

We live in a world in which basically anything could happen, not just to bad people but to genuinely good people.  This is a hard realization.  My heart aches.  I have prayed for West, Boston and my friends more than I ever thought I could pray.

Sunday, I run the Memorial Half Marathon.  I will run for Boston.  I will run for West.  And I will run for my sweet friends.  The world can be atrocious.  But at least we have each other.

The Accidental Twelve

Sounds like a movie, right?  (One about a woman who obviously doesn't understand birth control) or perhaps and inspirational one about a rag tag team who overcomes obstacles in order to be the next winning champs. 

I wish it were the name of the muffins I didn't just cook.

Let me tell you, The Accidental Twelve is none of these things.  What it is; however, is the number of miles I ran on Sunday.  Accidentally.

I only missed one important step during the run.  I went right instead of left and didn't figure out that I was with the twenty mile running group for a little while.  No, no.  I will never be with that group on purpose.  It was a complete and total accident during which I almost made a few people hate me by complaining so much.

It's difficult to keep going when your ear buds are telling you that your goal has been met, two miles ago.

Last words to my awesome training partner:  "I'm not running a step past 10."  Boy, was I completely wrong about that.

Cosmos: 12   Rachel: 0

 Cheers to long runs, and even longer accidental ones.

'til next time!

I miss you

I've seen you a few times since you left.

Once at Taco Bell.  You came over and smiled at my sweet daughter.  You looked just the same.  I half expected you to hook your thumbs in your over-alls and smile to yourself before heading out the door with your quiet strength.

A few times I've dreamed of you.  You grinned your approval when I told you I was pregnant.  You responded, "Well." with a twinkle in your eye.  You always could tell a story with one word or just a look.  You were proud.  Excited; telling me good job with just a word.  "Well."

Last week.  You drove by me in your old, blue farm truck that you had when I was a little girl.  I looked over and waved my sadness away in that moment, because you were there saying "hi" with a one finger wave.

Every time I hear Amazing Grace.

We all miss you.

Life Lesson Learned

Life lesson: Don't take your breakable, un lid-able beverage holders with you in the car.  I've learned this lesson before but not in the same way.  It was more in the way of spilled beverages.

One of my favorite coffee mugs met it's demise early Sunday morning.  I tried in vain to save the little guy but was unwilling to sacrifice my piping hot breakfast tacos in the endeavor.  I know in my head that it was just a ceramic tool used to house coffee but in my heart it stood as a symbol of my life in Texas; my carefree years of young.

All good things come to an end (Life lesson?).  Even something as simple as a fantastic taco (oh, and, they were!).

Goodbye, Beckman-Coulter Mug.  You were loved.

Cheers.