September 16, 2013

While I am no longer "blogging" - this particular weekend brings a flurry of memories - bad, good, sad, funny... September 16th marks two years since a vibrant, beautiful, smart, witty young woman was taken from her friends and family.  We remember...

Simba: "We'll always be together, right?" 

Mufasa: "Simba, let me tell you something my father told me. Look at the stars, the great kings of the past are up there, watching over us." 
Simba: "Really?"

Mufasa: "Yes. So whenever you feel alone just remember that those kings will always be there to guide you and so will I."

                                   Or in this case... Miss Sarah Frances Baisden.

The Excuses We Make

Why was my last post on a blog that for the first year, I wrote something nearly daily, and the second year - which began on November 28th 2012, a dozen or so times per month... over a month and a half ago?

There are many reasons for this.

• The boys are (were) all still home for the summer and I was busy cooking, cleaning, living my life in wait of what they were going to be doing.  True story.  I believe we don't have that long of a life, so it's important to be a part of theirs - even if just a spectator in my own home.
• I was spending (and still am, though not as much due to the new job) a lot of time running and reading up on healthier habits - be it exercising, eating, way of thinking... growing, stretching.
• I was beginning to scratch the surface of looking for a new job.  I'd been off of work for nearly 7 months and got my house in near perfect order (which is about the time they all returned from school for the summer) and knew that it was time.  Simply put.  The Dad wasn't telling me I had to, and for all intents and purposes, I didn't HAVE to, but we aren't a family of unlimited means (uhhh... 3 kids in college?!?!?) where shopping all day or playing tennis with the stay-at-home socialites was never going to be my gig.  Ask my  mom.  I hate shopping.  UNLESS I know exactly what it is I want or need.
• I then... got not one,  not two, but three interviews the week after my last post here.  So I would run, come home, start laundry, clean up, shower, interview and come home and make grilled tuna sandwiches for the boys.  Or whatever they wanted, for whichever of them might be home.  
• I got offered the job I wanted, but then I got a different job offer at a second place than what I had interviewed for which made it super easy to go with the job I took. (yikes!  That's hard to follow!) There wasn't much of a question in the first place - honestly, because I was weighing location NOT institution.  But I let that torment me (and my time) for long enough.  I had accepted the first job offer as soon as I received it, but knew I could change my mind if the other job warranted it.  It didn't.  Everything happens for a reason.
• I started the job.  Where I used to  be the one running home at lunches to take care of the dogs, that now falls on The Dad's shoulders.  Ironically, we've traded places. When I worked for the school district I was 8 minutes from home.  At KAYU - 2 minutes.  The Dad was clear out at Liberty Lake and his commute was usually 30 minutes.  Mine, though equally as far as his in LL - is 22 minutes from the time I leave Starbucks.  I have 3 stoplights, 4 stop signs and a most gorgeous commute... no cars, honking, idiot drivers.  Just feels like "home" - going both ways!
• An out of town party.
• Getting stuff cleaned up for Blue Eyes move back to Coug Town.
• Getting stuff cleaned up for Wack's move back to 17th Ave.
• Getting stuff squared away (because it was a HUGE hassle and until I was working there and knew the exact thing for him to tell the appropriate people... sigh) at EWU for the final quarters of Electrical Engineering classes for #7
• Cleaning the house for bunco.
• And on... and on... and on....

I often had ideas or thoughts I wanted to touch on over the past 45 or so days but, by the time I got home - I wanted to connect with The Dad, my boys (if they were around) and my faithful four-legged friends who seemingly aren't sure what to make of having had me 24/7 for months on end to now, mere hours at the end of the day.  I see the questions in their eyes and then wish I had a money tree all over.  But the pay off is worth it, the retirement is worth it.  The drive that clears my mind of worries, fears, stresses on my way to work and on my way home... is worth it.

And that's where this story begins and ends.  The drive, the time that I get to myself has allowed me to stop the excuses.  Stop lying to myself if I have been.  Stop the madness and allow only those things that need me, my attention, my love to be what my life is all about.  

I had to let go of things that cause me unnecessary upset or worry that are outside of my control.  

• I can't control what people say about me, that don't really know me, to people that I know - who then choose to believe it.  So I came up with this:  Let them.  Let them talk, let them listen.  That there is character.  Jealousy.  Unhappiness.  It breeds contempt and ill will and for a time, in me as well.  But... it's not worth my heart, my time, or my happiness to worry about those people anymore.  When I explained this to The Dad - for once, and I was shocked - he agreed.  He's just as tired of the "reasons", the superficial responses, the choices and the things we've heard along the way.  We choose us.  We choose to surround ourselves with people who want to be our friends, who enjoy spending a night out, who celebrate with us, mourn with us and don't feel "obligated" to include us.  
• I can't control that something breaks and causes us financial stresses.  We just bought a new water heater.  It was long over due, but it was the gigantic puddle in the laundry room one early morning before I left for work that could have wreaked all sorts of havoc.  Instead - twice a day for nearly 3 weeks - The Dad and I took turns shop-vac'ing up water and dumping it each time.  Not to mention the 2 loads of old towels I washed and dried each day to keep up with the leak.  In years past - this kind of thing would have caused me to be able to flip moods on a dime.  Less than a dime.  Sad... but true.  But as a team - we worked on the short term remedy until we could make the water heater happen.  I don't remember one raised voice about it.  Not even the frustration.  What good would that have done?
• I can't control... people.  And I don't want to.  It's so much easier not worrying about what other people do.  What they say.  Who they are with. When they leave. What they wear.  Who their friends are.  What they eat.  How much they weigh.  Where they work.  If they work.  What I can do is support them, feel for them, rejoice with them, cry with them.  That being said - I choose to do this for and with the people that are pretty much anyone BUT the people in bullet No. 1.  I think that's fair.  I can however, forgive the people in #1, but that doesn't mean it will ever be the way it might have been.  Could have been.  Was.  
• I can't control when my dogs get sick.  My kids make a choice I don't want them to make. The weather ruins my outdoor plans for the day.  A friend or relative doesn't like me.  The power goes out.  The water heater breaks.  The boys' car needs something that costs $342 that I wasn't expecting to pay.  Someone never likes my instagram posts - on purpose and I hear about it.  My tickets didn't come on time. The plane was late.  They ordered the wrong prescription.  I forgot my lunch.  They made the wrong drink....

I have learned, and it sounds crazy... in 45 days... (honestly, over the past few years)  to just roll with it.  To be honest and expect the same in return.  If I don't get that - that's not my choice, that's theirs.  To care and be cared for.  To love and be loved and remember - though I have to say it to myself very often - that everyone has something going on in their life that they don't want to share with others.  And those that share everything - they do too.  

I said "reasons" above - but what those reasons really are - are excuses.  We've all made them and occasionally we lose out for some we've made, sometimes we are hurt by them - mostly "excuses"  or lies or ??? are that term we've all heard - lame excuses.  

Mine listed above for not writing - were not "reasons".  They were excuses I gave myself to just not get on the computer again at the end of the work day.  But ironically - I have one last "excuse" to rid myself of.

I left The Bookface as a goal, a challenge to myself to get off of the social media giant - time suck.  I went from posting tidbits here and there to growing some sort of farm, playing bejeweled, then there was some sort of diner I think I was building... and of course looking at what my 366 (I have no clue) "friends" were posting, their photos, the "creeping" the kids talk about.  I made the goal and then I made the challenge to go for it for Year 2.  November 28th is right around the corner and I could re-up for Year 3 but - in a conversation I recently had with dear old dad - after he mentioned if I'd seen something on The Bookface - I had to explain that I wasn't on The Bookface and that I hadn't been and then... I said this... "The Bookface (though I think I called it it's real name) is just a platform for people to brag about themselves, their kids, whine about crap and garner attention.  If the people that post on it want me to know what's going on, they'll tell me. No one communicates anymore in person or an actual phone conversation."  This is a big "What's wrong in the world these days?" in. my. opinion.

On my drive home - it hit me.  My blog has been the same thing for me.  I've bragged. Whined.  Cried.  Laughed.  Berated.  Angered. Befriended.  Thanked.  Loved.  I've done all of that too.  Here.  On this blog.  This blog was more than my excuse to get off of The Bookface. It was my excuse to brag more in depth, post more in depth... 

So this is it.  My last post.  

"Your time is limited, don't waste it living someone else's life.  Don't be trapped by dogma, which is living the result of other people's thinking.  Don't let the noise of other's opinions drowned your own inner voice.  And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition, they somehow already know what you truly want to become.  Everything else is secondary."

~Steve jobs

Birds Flying The Coop

I've not been on my blogging game for a while now.  I think about it and I kind of get that "meh" feeling - not really wanting to take the time to sit here and ramble on about something that roughly 36 people read each day.  I seemed to get off blogging task when I started the house gutting in March.  April, still gutting, but preparing for the trip to Cabo.  May, one of the "birds" was home and working and my laundry piles changed, cooking had to change again and there were various EWU things to attend and plan.  June found all of the "birds" heading home to the nest, more  laundry, more food shopping to do, cars to tend to, short trips to plan out and pay for... though the gutting was officially done, I was now finding more ways to stay occupied.  "Occupy Lloyd Street" minus the protesting.

Then there was the @hausofgirls June Instagram challenge to run #56milesinjune.  So I did that and began plotting my routes and getting back into running.  It's been a long time since I ran that marathon (2004) and it always seems hard to get "back" to running.  Sure, I've been working out at Golds 5 days a week, sometimes classes, most times elliptical and some free weights... but that's just not the same as running.  When I finished Junes' challenge I bought myself a "prize" - the Garmin Forerunner 10 and I love it! It's tracked the July challenge of #50milesinjuly - which I surpassed yesterday and hooked me up with a calendar to train for a half marathon... so I've added that to my daily schedule and a new countdown to another goal.  My own "love handles" or muffin top (I hate that term) have shrunk down, almost not visible by the naked eye and I'm not even depressed that my weight has only dropped 2 pounds because I can SEE the muscles forming before my eyes.  Good stuff.

The boys (birds) are self sustaining and they come and go as they please - occasionally everyone is home for a meal together.  #7 is often off with #10 - his belongings live here more than he does... Blue Eyes and Wack are off to work at 4:51 AM every day, eat lunch at the course usually, head home, shower up, nap and then disappear out with friends, Snooze-anne, whoever... wherever.  The one constant I can count on is the "Mom, Dad... I'm home" if we're in bed when they return.  So there's that.  For now.

• AN ASIDE:  About 7 weeks ago, I was out mowing the back.  Don't ask me why the big, strong boys aren't doing it... I LIKE to do it.  Besides, they are all working and I'm... not. I've been mowing the back (and sometimes the front since The Dad always mows it too short and then it looks brownish/green) for 4+ summers and I love the workout it provides seeing as it's a hill.  But as I went around picking up after the hounds I came across a baby, baby baby bird.  Not alive.  Not half chomped on... but like it was brand new out of the shell and somehow dropped on my lawn.  I've never seen that before.  It was a few weeks later, when Jack was having his bowel issues that I found the remains of a bird (not a baby) out in the yard while cleaning up before mowing.  I wondered if the baby and the adult had been related and which of my flippin' dogs was the "bird dog".   It just couldn't be Jack... for the love of God he's a lab and hates the water.  He eats his dog food, but believes he is intended to eat human food - all day long - every single day.  He doesn't run after a ball or chew on bones.  Jack was NOT the bird dog.  So the next 3 times I mowed the lawn, no more dead birds, but each time I mowed under our bedroom deck, and by Wacks' window, I swear a bird was coming after me.  It took me a few weeks to realize it wasn't my imagination... and then... as I was cleaning up after the dogs LAST week - I saw it. Built up on two of the posts of our deck.   Two different Robins' nests.  And a mama bird standing there on top of one, mouth open, eyes watching me.  Then three little beaks bobbing up and down wanting something from their mom.  Food... of course. I didn't want her dive bombing at me so I finished picking up and told The Dad, HE could mow for once.  The second nest is empty, and as of today, mom and her chicks are still occupying the second nest.  It got me to thinking about birds, nests, what to expect when expecting... (ha!) so I Googled it of course.  Robins' have 2 to 3 broods per season and build a new nest for each brood... thus far... two nests. They lay the eggs which hatch about 14 days later and then... the babies fly off within two weeks.  Much like James Gandolfinis' Tony Soprano and his ducks in the pool (season 1) I'm enjoying watching them and the thought of them leaving makes me sad.  But that's what birds do...

So here we are - the end of July upon us.  At this point, no one is heading out of town or to the lake, though that's sure to happen given the best summer weather I can remember in a long time and then **poof** the weekend after that is August.  The Dad and I will spend much of next week readying the house and "grounds" for YuccaFest 2013, Blue Eyes & Wack will be building up their "Watershed 2013" necessities and #7 will ref, work, do whatever he can to earn more money.  That's all good.  Until the next weekend.  That's when we have our first "departure" with our WSU college student heading back.  Sure, it's weeks after that until the other two start back up, but once one leaves, it all starts to set in again, that the nest is about to be empty again.  My little birds will fly off again and those moments that we all chuckle at something funny or head out back for a "friendly" game of holyboard in the sun - gone.  

I'm not fond of my laundry piles - especially after having gotten the house in order prior to their return home and the fact that I could do two loads all week when it's The Dad and I. But I'm less fond of the quiet, empty house.  I'm 43 years old and ready to be a grandma - seeing as I don't have the parts to be a new mom all over again.  

• Thing One:  I changed the blog, as you can tell.  The running and bright colors out there now inspired me to add a little more color to the page and:
• Thing Two:  Often now, when I let the dogs out back for a while, to keep them out from under my feet while I do sometimes next to nothing indoors... I called them in and Dan The Dog doesn't come.  He's always been the first one in.  So I was worried this week when I called a few times, walked out on the deck, couldn't spy him... went down the deck stairs and began to look for holes under the fence.  As I walked halfway down the yard I looked back up towards the house and there was Dan... laying on his side under our bedroom deck/Zach's window.  He didn't lift his head as I called out and I was certain Dan was no longer.  As I slowly made my way to him he lifted his head and then I thought "his hearing must be going".  He got up, wagged his tail and followed me back up the steps.  It struck me as unusual but I let it go.  Three days later, same thing.  I head down the stairs and Dan is sitting under that deck, in the shade.  Dan...  is the "bird dog".  Trust me ~ he can hear just fine.

There's Always A Tomorrow... Until There Isn't.

I've spent some considerable time each day, feeling guilty that I haven't posted in 15 days. Yikes!  Feeling guilty as though I was letting someone down.  But given the number of visits I get each day to my little blog - I'm mostly certain that's not the case. But then, I'm not really spending my time writing on this blog, creating this blog, staying off of the Bookface for anyone other than me.  So, in effect, I AM letting someone down. Me.  

Part of me thinks that - with my new running goals and fitness and "working" at inspiring others to get out there, get active, set some goals - my "creative" mind has taken a bit of a vacation from this.  I think to myself "I need to post to the blog." and then just as quickly shrug and say "Tomorrow."  There's always a "tomorrow".

Until there isn't.  This is something our family has learned a few times over the years. 

• May 23, 1986 - my high school classmate and good friend Shawn, while riding as a passenger on her step-brothers motorcycle was killed when thrown from the bike after he went through a red light late at night.  He survived.  She died.  We were 16 and as far as I can remember, my first "experience" with tragedy like this.
• July 20, 1992 - my uncle, then 47 was killed in a boat wreck on the lake while pulling my younger cousin and his friends.  The man who hit him was not travelling N-S on the lake, but rather E-W with his dog on the bow in front of him.  My uncle died in front of his son.  Amy Grants "I Will Remember You" was on the radio when my husband took the call and relayed the information to me.
• September 16th, 2011 - my 20 year old niece was killed by a cretin 24 year old with 30+ too many priors as he drove head on into her as he drunkenly, sped down the two lane highway, passing cars.  

We've loved and lost others in our family, but where age and illness and health are contributing factors.  Losses that allow your mind time to comprehend that "it's" coming. Some would say that doesn't make it any easier - but it has to be a little bit, right?  If your relative gets diagnosed with a disease that just can't be beat - you have the opportunity to make the time, take the time - to spend time with them, hug them, hold them, forgive them, go to lunch with them, laugh with them, cry with them.  No question it's going to hurt saying "goodbye", but at least you have that chance.

I used to dread the late summer months leading up to my birthday... aaaannnnd, if I'm being honest, I still do.  Not because I'm going to be another year older - but because throughout my life, I just never felt my birthday was given any big significance.  So stupid, right?  I know.  But it grew in me from that one time my mom asked me which day my birthday was...  She wasn't asking if it was on a Monday or a Wednesday, she was asking the date.  And so as to not have her feeling lonely under that bus I just threw her under - well The Dad, hasn't been my knight in shining armor when it comes to that day in October either... (married 22 years).  Now, in his defense - we were married young, had the three boys young, zero dollars most of the time and when he could - he'd get me what I wanted.  Buuuuut...  on top of that, I've always hoped for a little creativity or probably more importantly - for him to THINK about it more than 2 days before it.  I should say - I KNOW now he thinks about it plenty of time beforehand - but it's a dread.  A fear which overtakes the brain cells that could otherwise be spent on being creative, or thinking about it in a positive way - more than 2 days before it.  I know... my stupid little idiosyncrasies and fantasies.  

But now, more than that, the late summer months bring about pangs of regret.  I should have been more involved with the girls (my nieces), regardless of the relationship between their mother and I.  I wish we'd have used Uncle Doug's lake cabin the way he'd hoped it could or would be used prior to him selling it, thus his boating excursions on Liberty Lake...instead of where we all should be now - at Sacheen.  No matter my regrets or tears - it doesn't change anything.

On Saturday afternoon we attended the wedding of one of #7's college football teammates.  An outdoor wedding at the farm of the brides family - a rustic old barn filled with so many Pinterest ideas and a grass field where 500+ people dined, a nice, long dusty walk to the upper meadow for the ceremony and while returning to the barn and field below, a fun run-in with a herd of cows that weren't sure what to think about us all walking towards them.  For that matter... the 7 of us in front wondered if we should be worried at all as we walked toward them all looking at us... in the middle of their road.

We were iPhone free that evening.  Over 4 hours.  I mean... how did we survive 4 hours without phones, pictures, tweets, texts?  But on our long drive home, I opened up The Twitterverse and read about the Trayvon Martin trial outcome.  Shocked.  Saddened.  The jury got it wrong.  Again.  Right?  I mean... they got it wrong with Casey Anthony who is now allegedly pregnant with twins.  Exasperating!  How does this keep happening?

We pulled into the garage, mostly silent... and tired - what with having participated in our 2nd Dirty Dash that morning and walked in to a very tired middle boy who was willing himself to stay up and finish watching his Mariners pull through with a second victory in a row.  While The Dad talked to him, I crawled into bed, plugged in my iPhone that iLove and as he crawled into bed and I scrolled my Twitter feed, I came across one of the very first tweets about Cory Monteiths' (star of Fox Networks' "Glee") body found in his hotel room earlier in the day.  First the verdict, now this.  My heart sunk into my stomach.  The Dad pulled up the live news brief and we listened as the few details and what was to come were relayed by the Vancouver BC police captain.  

Of course there is speculation that it was a drug overdose, and sadly, it very likely was.  I loved the show the first two years and I loved Finn.  And when Cory Monteith up and entered rehab in April - on his own accord (so... not like Lindsay Lohan or Justin Biebers most recent escapades and news that might suggest they might be using some sort of uppers) and with the support of his girlfriend - I shrugged it off.  Of course I know more now - that 12 years ago he also went through rehab.  Still though, I'm finding it hard to judge him.  It seemed to work before - so perhaps it could work again<?>  Look at Robert Downey Jr. or Matthew Perry.  

I'm pretty sure I didn't pay attention to anything Cory Monteith related when he left rehab. Certainly not enough to form the opinion that he should have stayed longer or there was no way a month "worked".  So I was stunned when I read that tweet late Saturday night. 

I was sad when Princess Diana was killed and taken from her boys.  A young, doting, beautiful, royal mother.  I was sad when Whitney overdosed last year - but I never thought she was going to kick that habit, personally, so while sad because of the artist she was while I was growing up, and while a tragedy (because who wants to die by drowning in your bathtub because you passed out?) I felt it was just more unfortunate than anything.  But Cory was young.  Too young. Everything you read is how kind he was to everyone... he appears to have been open and honest about his past and he didn't try to slink into rehab without anyone knowing.  He seemed to be one of the good guys.  

So on a great day - Saturday - a fun run, a muddy, dirty, wall challenging fun run followed by a beautiful wedding where all of our football boys were... smiles, laughter, love and happiness abound... Cory died alone and Trayvon's family, along with millions of others, lose faith in the justice system.  And I'm sad.  And it makes me realize that July is half over and August is almost here... which means September is next.  And the regrets run deep, and I swallow hard and the tears well up a bit faster.  

We are responsible for getting ourselves and our loved ones to "tomorrow".  We need to be active in each others lives and held accountable for decisions we make.  And if tomorrow happens to be our last day, we need to make sure that everyone knows they were loved.  In turn, we are likely to spend our "tomorrow" knowing we too, were loved.

"Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone."

Road Trip! #RibbitRibbit

I made a 40 minute road trip out to Cheney - past Cheney actually, to claim the two 6' Costco folding tables of my mother - that we used at #7 & #10's graduation party.  I spent some time with Koda and Buford before putting the tables in the car.  Once the seats were down and the liftgate open, I grabbed the tables one by one and slid them into the car... and away I went.  40 BACK down the road I came, and... perhaps a little longer with the one lane road construction going on.  

Black Betty climbed up Hatch hill and I parked her at Albertsons, knowing I needed to get in there before ALL of the gatorade sells out due to hot weather and Hoopfest.  Too late, all of the good flavors were gone so I sat in the aisle for a bit texting to Wack to find out what would be the next best flavors and as I did that ran into some friends and chatted it up.  All told, I was in the store for 15 minutes probably.

I wheeled my new mini cart (I just love those) out to the car, opened up the back, threw in my bags and the gatorade, slammed it shut, took the cart to the cart collection thingy - you know "Please return your carts here."  That thing... and hopped in the front seat of my car.  As I put the key in the ignition... this little fella hopped across my dash:

As quickly as I had hopped in and it had hopped away from the steering wheel, I hopped the hell right back out of my car and slammed the door!  I watched as this teeny tiny little creature hopped over towards the steering wheel again and appeared to be looking at me.  I walked around to the other side and unlocked the door, opened it, in hopes it would hop right back out of my car.  But wait!  SLAM!  I shut the door again.  I'm sitting in the Albertsons parking lot, pacing around my car, looking in the windows and realizing if I let it hop out onto this big parking lot - it's likely to get run over.  So now what?

I know.  I'll text my husband, who's at work, in a frenzy as I try to figure this out:

This little frog continued to hop-about in the front and finally, as I was peering in the drivers side window again, it hopped to the seat and then climbed up the window.  Yes... it had been watching me.  It wanted out.  It was HOT out after all.  But not here, not in the lot.  After a few minutes, it hopped back to the back again and I could see it on the furthest edge of the table - so I went for it!  It was not my smartest move but this was how it had to go down:

I hopped (such a good word for this post) into the front seat, keeping my eyes on the rearview mirror to see what the frog would do.  Started the ignition and the moment the air started to flow... what did she do??!?!?!?  Climbed into one of the vent thingy mabobs in the way back.  Now some people I told that to last night immediately thought "Eeewwweeeee" and figured the frog would get stuck in there and die and I'd have this smell and yada yada yada.  But my first thought was more like "Uhhhh wait.  Please tell me you haven't been LIVING in my car?" I figured this was as good a time as any to gun it home, keeping an open mind that at any moment it may well hop into my hair, fling off my shoulder or land on my hand on the steering wheel.  I was preparing myself for that the whole way  home (like 53 seconds if the light stays green).  I pulled into the garage and Blue Eyes (this seems fitting) is standing in the driveway tossing a baseball in the air and catching it.  He watches as I roar into the garage and is looking at me with this "What the...?!?!?" as I get out, slam the door and yell "There's a frog in my car!"  

Let me just tell you... it's not something I expected first.  Second, it's not something anyone I told was expecting to hear either.  I told Blue Eyes it was in the little vent, that I was going to open up the back and wait for it to come out.

"Ready.  Set.... AAAAAACCCKKKK.... GO!"  And I opened up the car.  I pointed to the vent to show Ryan where the frog was and he says "It's right there mom."

"What?!?!?  Where??!?!?"

He points to the table and sure enough, it's just sitting there, watching us.  

It took a minute or so, but it finally jumped out and found it's way to the grass by the garage.  I snapped a few photos and then told Ry I wanted to hold it.  I mean... I said it out loud... and I thought I wanted to hold it... but before I could really think that through, Ry had gone over, picked it up and I snapped that photo above.  Then he set it back down (because telling you he tossed it back into the grass is uncool) and walked away as I sat and watched it hop here and there and finally burrow down into the soft, thick grass.  I came inside and unpacked stuff and went out a few times to check on the frog, each time, there it was... likely as traumatized as I had been... poor thing.  

So if you ever read my posts - you might remember, on Year 1 - when we went to visit my niece Sarah's - grave site.  It was a clear day, no one at the cemetery but us.  Rob and Liz had brought some fresh flowers to put at her headstone... which, on either side, has a "built in" if you will, flower "holder".  So they pulled the flowers out of the holder on the left and replaced them with the new, fresh flowers.  As they went to remove the flowers from the other side, we noticed a little frog, much like this, sitting there on the stone.  As soon as the flowers were removed, it hopped down into the flower holder... 

I walked past a few other headstones in search of any kind of life at all... and found none. Just this one cute little frog, who seemingly was living at this one spot - who looked at us as if to say "I got this. It's okay."

This post isn't to suggest it's the same frog.  That would be insane and ridiculous.  But this little guy rode with me for 40 minutes, never disrupted my driving - which... it would have had he jumped on me WHILE I was driving... and totally appeared to find a spot the moment he hit our lawn.  I over analyze things, over think things... over stress things... but as I watched him - at some point "Sarah's frog" jumped into my head - and while I believe there's a connection, I'm not sure what it is (let me over think it for a while) I am content in knowing, believing, that this little frog, the same size, same cuteness as the one in Demingham... is a symbol.  And right now, (I think) that symbol is nearby to my house and while I'm sure it seems odd and a skoche crazy to you - I'm feeling calm and at peace.

Now I think back to just yesterday and Ryan's quick step to pick it up when I said I wanted to hold it (which I never did) and how it just let him pick it up and hold it there while I got just the right picture.  With all of Ryan's run-in's in Pullman with "Sarah's Boys", doesn't it seem just a bit uncanny that it was he who was outside when I pulled in?  He who was there to take that in with his crazy mom?  Especially given, that 99 times out of 100, my kids are NEVER outside when I pull up from somewhere.

There's no such thing as a coincidence.  Everything happens for a reason.  

The Dentist & The Eye Doctor

I hate them.

Well, "hate" is a strong word.  But... yeh... I hate them.

I like when my teeth feel clean - so I like that.  And honestly - the absolute WORST part of walking into the dentists' office - is the smell!  You know how all of the casinos/hotels in Vegas are going to cleaner, fresher air to breathe?  They pump their own signature smell through all of the vents so non-smokers don't have to smell the smokers' smoke.  Do dentists do that?  Because if they do - their signature smell could use a MAJOR overhaul.  

So I don't really HATE the dentist.  He's a great guy.  His hygienists are brutal though, right?  They scrape and prod and do that whole 1-4-3-2-2-2-4-2-3-2 needle in your gums thing.  You seriously have to have some part of Satan in you to have that job.  I suppose, though, even they are just doing their jobs.  It's the ones that TALK to you when they are scraping and you're drooling and they're sucking and oh... best yet... ask you questions when they have those x-ray cardboard things in your mouth AND... if you're me with a very healthy gag reflex, just trying not to gag while they ask the question, step from the room, press the button and come and stick that gaggy thing on the other side.  All the while, you haven't answered the question because if you had you'd 1) mess up the x-ray and 2) sound something like this:  "oiauhfh afkiessstp  slllpgh"

All of that aside - it feels good to leave the dentist.  It's just that smell...

Now the eye doctor is starting to rank right up there as "Satan-esque" for me.  For years we could just go to Costco, he'd do the puff in your eye and boom, I had a new prescription for my contacts.  But with new insurance the past couple of years I've HAD to go to an ACTUAL eye care shop.  Today I was dilated... good and dilated.  I'm not even sure if my spelling is accurate in this post.  I can't see squat!  

But this place last year - charged me extra to do the "contact" screening even though I told them - I DO NOT WEAR, NOR WILL I ORDER - glasses.  But still, I had to pay.  I was not happy about this.  Next they moved me from 3 rooms.  I didn't smell, I had showered, I wasn't wearing an Ozzy Osbourne t-shirt.  I wasn't sure what it was until I saw the older woman with diamonds drizzling all over her - that they placed in the room I had started out in.  I saw where I fit in their priorities, even with me getting there first and having an appointment.  Mark number 2.  

So I had my yearly visit today and I should have taken the time to find another place but it's so close by and THANK GOD I didn't go further - because they dilated the bejeezus out of my eyes.  I'm pretty sure it was intentional.  Mark number 3.  

BUT... she was not happy with my numbers from what her assistant put in and what they were last year (at her shop) and prior years (at Costco) so she took the time with me, didn't transfer me room after room and actually found that at 43 - the age when most people are starting to wear bifocals - that my vision is actually "very robust" in that facet and I wasn't going to need them any time soon.  In fact, my vision is improving.  Yep.  Weird.  She did her tests THREE times and my prescription in my right eye has gone from a 2.75 to a 2.0 and my left eye from a 1.75 to a 1.5.  

Sooooo glad I went for my run this morning prior to the 8 AM appointment!  I had told The Dad my original plan was to drive there, go to the appointment, run my loop after, end back up at Black Betty, get my Starbucks and drive home.  Had I done that - I'm sure to have been hit by several cars, run into several bushes and perhaps lost my way.  I feel mostly blind right now.  I didn't even feel like I could walk into Albertsons and get some milk - for my three little Minns who will all come home from work - ready for a tall glass of milk.  Driving home was stupid.  

The only thing I can do now is put on my shades and go chill on the deck with the hounds until it wears off.  tik tok tik tok... 

"ATTENTION HUMANS!!! I'm No Longer Constipated!!" Said...

Jack - the dog.

...after emptying his bowels on the downstairs bathroom floor sometime this morning between the hours of 5 AM when Wack & Blue Eyes head out to work and 10:30 AM when The Wiz finally wandered in there.  

What's odd is that Jack didn't try to tell me that he needed to go outside with his usual "Uh hey... I need to go... like... really go... if you know what I mean" bark.  So that helped make this morning fairly shitty.  Yes... pun intended.

Now Jack had been constipated this week and I could tell after I mowed the other day.  Jack has this knack for taking the first freshy on my freshly mowed lawn.  Usually as I'm mowing.  It always amazes me that for a dog that takes care in the morning to make sure no one is watching... that he will line up to go number two as I'm mowing.  This is new.   He hasn't done this all the years I've been mowing (which is like 5) so this is new "behavior", if you will.  And not my favorite Jack "thing".  

So the other day - he actually went a fairly decent number 2.  I remember.  I was out there.  The lawn was insanely long though due to the Senske service and fertilizing the week before so I finished up before picking up his latest treasure.  As I mowed though, I was finding little mushrooms in the longer grass.  Personally, we were thinking that the Senske service probably should have taken care to make sure those didn't pop up - but they fertilized and then it rained.  And rained & rained and I think it just fostered a really nice mushroom growing climate in that long grass.  I had noticed Jack out there later that afternoon nosing around and remembered - JACK is our dog that likes to EAT those mushrooms.  I had tried to rake them up with the pooper scooper when I was done but clearly... as evidenced on the bathroom floor this morning... did not get them all.  Or enough of them.

I noticed later that afternoon while I was on a call that Jack was having issues with his after dinner dump (this is really pleasant, right?) and I even tried to point it out to The Dad while he changed and I listened intently to the conversation coming from the other side of the phone.  I knew then... that if Jack was struggling - at some point... a floor, carpet or part of my freshly mowed back yard were eventually going to pay for it.  Crap.  Yes.  Again, pun intended.

Jack did his "Let me out" bark a few times last night and always from downstairs.  Jeez Jack, we're all upstairs and you can go out from up here.  Come tell us up here.  What's the deal?  But nooo.... we race down the stairs because we know that bark.  Shockingly enough, he didn't do it at all last night  OR this morning.  I know.  I was here.  Sitting here working intently on my computer.  

What I heard was #7 say "Mooooommmm!  We've got a problem."  What he meant by that was "Mom, there's a ton of shit in the bathroom down here that you need to clean up!"

So.  That was awesome.  As The Dad and #7 pondered over who was the culprit - I said without a doubt - that it WAS Jack.  I was sure.  They tended NOT to believe me.  Not so shocking.  But once they left for jobs and the dump (haha... yes really.  #7 cleaned out his house in Cheney and was taking a boatload out to the dump, uncanny timing, if I do say so myself) Jack came in and laid next to me while I clicked away.  And his stomach gurgled and gurgled and gurgled.  

Yes.  It was Jack.  I only hope as he relieved himself and caused more work for me today - that those mushrooms helped him to feel no shame.  Then again, he's a boy and boys sometimes talk about their...

Well, you get the idea.  

The day is half over and isn't quite as crappy as this morning was.  <sigh>