The Walk

This morning on the way to church we saw a long line of folks walking. It was the Race for the Cure walkers, and they were on their final day of the three-day trek.

And these people? Were partying. They were stepping high. They were raising their hands in the air. They were whooping it up.

At the park across the street from the church there were port-a-potties set up, water (I would think), and whatever else they might grab on one of the check-points. As we drove by, I could hardly keep the tears from pouring down my face. 

(I'm a crier.)

The stream of dedicated women and men (and I saw both wearing pink tutus...that is devotion) took my breath away. I actually posted on Facebook about it. This is what I said:

Crossed paths with the 60 mile walkers this morning on the final leg of their three day trek. I was immediately reduced to a puddle of awe-inspired tears. Pink wigs, tutus, flamingos...cancer, you are a thief, but you are not the victor. Praying for an amazing finale for these women and men walking for those they love.

I took a couple of pictures with my phone (so please excuse how cruddy the technical quality is), and in spite of being not so great in some ways, I think they are awesome in this way: you can see that these folks are movers and shakers. They are full of hope.

I repeat: Cancer, you are not the victor.

It's So Obvious, and I Still Miss It

Once, I couldn't find a recipe and it pretty much wrecked my whole day.

Except for the recipe, today was very similar to that day. Attitude? Horrible. Anger? Volcanic. Apathy? Heavy.

The lesson that I learned on that day of the elusive recipe is that there is a place to go when those days come. Actually, there is a place to go before those days come, a place that had you been frequenting, the days would not have come quite so fiercely, or so intensely. And maybe you would have been a little more equipped to deal with the obstacles, both internal and external, on that day that drew you out until you were unhinged. 

I know something is true about myself. This is it: I want to escape.

Once, not too long ago (a little over a year), I realized that my escape was the internet. I read blogs, and I messed around on Facebook, but almost to the point that my real life, my everyday-kids-school-husband-dinner-laundry life, became less important than the stories I was investing my time in on the Web. That's just wrong. I took a hiatus for a while, and didn't blog for a summer or so, because I thought that if I eliminated the bad thing, I would choose the good thing again.

Slowly, I have found myself in a similar spot. I get on the computer first thing, and it's on my lap all day. And then it's on my lap into the night. The house is a mess, I'm behind on laundry, it's harder to get the girls' work done, and I'm not inclined to take care of little things like getting dinner ready in a timely manner.

It's ironic, and a little heartbreaking, that I have this need to connect with people by reading blogs and leaving comments, or by posting silly stories on Facebook and commenting on other people's posts there, but there are four folks right here in this house with whom I can and ought to connect every day in meaningful ways. Things are certainly better than they were during that season a while back. But I know myself, and I know that I need to start making some better choices each day. From how much time I spend on the computer to the stuff I'm putting in my body, I need to make some better choices. 

And just like I found out on that night years and years ago, the first place I need to head is to the Word of God. (If you haven't read the story, you should...it's a good one.) I know my "heavy-laden" doesn't compare to some of the other burdens in the world right now, from the impact of Sandy the Storm from Haiti to the Northeast, to child trafficking and war and starvation all over the place, but still...Jesus says to come to him. 

I'm going to try to limit my computer time each day. There are things, and, more importantly, people which demand in the best way possible my attention from the time the alarm goes off in the morning until the last cover is pulled up and the final light is turned out. What a miracle that I get to start over tomorrow.

And I get an extra hour on top of that?! Maybe this back room will get picked up tonight after all...

Let the Commenting Commence! Or Continue, As It May Be!

I made a happy discovery today.

Well, and an unhappy one at the same time.

I found 18 comments in my spam folder! I was shocked! I was shocked that there were so many, and shocked that they ended up there. Most of them were from people who have commented before without a problem. I thought it was so weird. 

So, I am sorry if you have left a comment here and then happened to notice that it never appeared. 

I'll tell you something. Once that happened to me (actually twice on the same blog). I left two comments and I did notice that they never showed up. It made me a little sad. Were they weird? Were they not funny? Were they not valuable? 

When I noticed a while back that this had happened with one person's comments on several posts, I sent an email saying,"Please know that this was an accident!" I do not want anyone to think that I don't consider his or her comments worth posting! I love comments (What blogger doesn't?!)!! And now I know to check my spam folder! I need to figure out what the "sorting principle" is and try to fix it! 

So, I just wanted to tell those of you who take the time to come here and take the time to write out a comment, thank you! And I'll be on the lookout for your wonderful words!

(No pressure!)

Snort, Snort, Snickers, Snickers

Yesterday I ran into Walmart in order to procure the final piece of my costume: a shirt that was somewhat similar to the one I wore in my school picture 27 years ago.

(Um, I think that's a trick. There is no way that 27 years have passed since I was a sixth-grader. And that I, in fact, have a sixth-grader of my own.)

While we were racing through the store, Christian reminded me that we needed to get a bit of candy for any trick-or-treaters that might come to our house once we arrived back home from the festivities at our church. I thanked him for the reminder, and we grabbed two (GIANT) bags of bite-size Snickers on our way to the check-out. 

We headed home. We had a short period of time before we needed to run back out the door. Everyone got into their costumes, and shortly before we left Christian lopped off the top of both candy bags so they would be ready to delve into in order to distribute to tiny trick-or-treaters later. 

He also had to use the bathroom, which doesn't really have anything to do with the story I'm telling, but it did make us more than a few minutes late to the Fall Fun Fest, where Michaela and I were supposed to be manning (womanning?) a game booth (which was more just extra-large blow-up bowling pins stuck in the space between Spin-the-Wheel and Photo Booth, so said pins went flying every which way because there was nothing to rein them in once they had been hit, except for my head and the poor lady's back at the game next door). Christian had a one-piece outfit on. (Christian-bathroom...Sorry I keep distracting you with extra stories.) I had told all of them to go to the bathroom before they put their costumes on. Sometimes you should listen to your mother. 

After the Fall Fun Fest festivities finished up, we made a walking loop in that neighborhood with a group of people who do this every year together. We completed a large circle back to the church and trudged our weary feet back to the car. I had carried Eliana almost the entire way because she had chosen to wear shoes that don't really fit, but had seemed apparently fitting for a princess, but I didn't notice until it was much too late (for both of us). (My arm is very sore today. Like I did 30 one-armed push ups.) (That would never happen in real life. The muscle in my arm might actually explode if I tried to do that.)

It is probably a good thing that I did carry her and walk all that way, because here's what I'm now looking at (in addition to the pan of brownies that I made the other night, and the chocolate cream cheese frosting in the fridge)... 

We got home so late that nary a knock on the door did we hear. Our light was even on. At least we were prepared! How often can I say that?!

Death and Taxes, Not Necessarily in That Order

Yesterday, we got on Skype with my parents, who had sent the kids little Halloween treat bags.

I say little, but they managed to stuff more candy and other goodies into these bags than I get into a grocery bag.

The kids took turns opening their bags (see, they look small, but they were like magical multiplying sacks), and the older two let Eliana go first. 

They pretended to eat each piece of candy she took out of her bag. 

She was particularly excited about the Tootsie Rolls. I didn't even know she liked Tootsie Rolls! 

She had a huge pile of Kisses and small Hershey bars by the time she reached the bottom of her bag. There were also stickers, an activity pad, and some Goldfish (the cracker, not the animal). 

Christian went next. He struggled to get his bag open at first. Grandma's use of the staple may rival her legendary use of tape on Christmas presents. 

The Grandparents regularly send socks to the kids, and they are always crazy fun. 

He put them on immediately. (Eliana had socks with pink cats on them. She also put hers on right away.)

He pulled a package of Chessmen out of his sack and said,"Yessss!" 

Once he had emptied his bag, he had a pile that equalled Eliana's. 

Finally, it was Michaela's turn. She pulled out her socks. Orange, of course. 

Do not ask me why she put them on inside out. I have no idea. My kids are weird.

I'm sorry to say none of my pictures of Michaela turned out. Bummer. But here is what happens to the bags that my parents send to the kids.

They don't last too long.

This is the candy that Michaela had BEFORE we went to the Fall Fun Fest and trick-or-treating.

Yes, that is a gallon size Ziploc.

Christian and Eliana's look pathetic in comparison.

The reason why there is such a discrepancy is not because my parents love Michaela more, or thought she should receive more because she is the oldest. It is because she won a box of 30 candy bars from Bible study for a contest they had.

30. Candy bars.

Never fear. I have already taken a portion. We shall call it The Candy Tax. No eleven-year-old needs 30 candy bars. I'm just doing my parental duty, and saving her teeth from early and unnecessary destruction.

The kids were very excited once they got to put their costumes on today. 

Commander Fox, Belle, and Hatshepsut (an Ancient Egyptian woman Pharoah)...

Eliana discovered this mirror at a dollar store. She wanted it very much. She told me once she had it that she was a real princess because look at it! It is a princess mirror. Obviously!

This blond girl went dark for the night. 

 

So, this is Michaela at age eleven.

Which is what I dressed up as tonight...

Me, at age eleven. I'm so glad she does not look like I did. At least at this unfortunate stage.

And for those who didn't know me back then, and who said,"Nooo...You didn't look like that!"

OH. YES. I. DID.

After the Fall Fun Fest at our church, and a round of trick-or-treating in that neighborhood, we headed home, ate a late dinner, sorted candy, and hit the showers. I went to switch the laundry from earlier in the day and just about jumped out of my skin as I turned the corner at the stairs.

Maybe the clean laundry pile startled him to death. 

P.S. I think tomorrow should be a day off.