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."