Definition

"The more you run, the more you are a runner."

I imagine you can insert any hobby, sport, occupation in that quote and feel confident in its accuracy. Definitely, there are varying levels of success in that quote. Some are better runners than others. But what makes someone a runner? Is it because they diligently take a jog every other day? Is it that they can survive a minimum 5K without collapsing? I believe it is all self-defined.

Can the same be said about a writer? The more I write, the more I am a writer? I am doubtful. I went to a party this weekend to celebrate a pending family marriage. Most of the guests were people of my father's generation. People I had not seen in over 10 years, since my own wedding. The natural flow of chit-chatty conversation brought forth the question - so, what do you do? What are you doing now? And you know what? I didn't really have an answer. I mean, I know I am a mom. I know I am a wife, but yet, that didn't really seem to be a satisfying answer.

I am cycling through a period of change. Clearly, I am being asked to relinquish a heavy amount of control I have fought to constantly administer throughout my life. And, it stinks. Really, really stinks. It makes my life undefinable at present. I always had control of that definition and now I don't. I am teetering on this razor sharp edge between two worlds and it seems that I just keep getting little nicks and cuts. For someone who has drawn every bit of her energy and drive from this type of behavior, it has left me dizzy, nauseous and a bit crazed. Doesn't that sound appealing?

In the meantime, you might see me here a little less often. I'll admit that my computer time has taken its toll and I think I am missing out a bit on lessons I need to learn in the environment around me.

Prayer for Sarah and Jon

I was asked to say the prayer at a dinner/dance honoring Sarah and Jon and their pending marriage. Here is what I said.

Father God,

We thank You for the God that You are.
A God who gave the ultimate sacrifice for us,
A God who longs to hear from us and have a personal relationship with us,
A God who delights in creating beauty for us and bringing love into our lives,
The love we experience being only a glimpse into what Your love looks like.

God, we thank you for Sarah and Jon.
We ask that You guide them on their journey together.
Lord, help them to remember to put You first in their lives.
Remind them that love is not a feeling, but a commitment first to You and then to each other.
Bless this union abundantly.

God, for this evening we are thankful.
You have provided abundantly for us.
This place, these people, this food.
We owe it all to You and receive all that You give with thanksgiving.
May we use it to Your service and to Your glory,
That we may be an accurate estimation of who You are.

In Your Son's holy name, Jesus.
Amen

Two Quick Takes

Lily
Said this to my stepmother when she spent the night:
Terry, Terry, the stars are sleeping. It is time to get up.

Ethan
Discussion about his first summer camp experience to occur this summer (09). Colby was talking about how they don't make you take a shower until the last night. (!!!) Being the tweens they are, they concurred that this fact was "awesome!" I inquired why this is such a good thing. Ethan said, What's the point of taking a shower anyway, you are just going to get dirty the next day. Colby chimed in with, "Yeah. They have a swimming pool and lake, ya know." I can't imagine what filth will accompany my son home from this "first time away from mom" event. Obviously, I am the only one who cares.

Things That Consume Me

Not trying to be narcistict, but I think a lot. Probably way too much. I mull, consider, meditate, toss, turn, work, brood, analyze, deliberate, reflect, ponder, and stew things until frankly they are all-consuming at times. I would like to believe that it is because I am a "creative" type, but, the more probable reality is that I am obsessive. My brain is constantly putting together connections between the experiences and information that comes into my atmosphere. I thought if I write out this list then maybe I will be able to de-clutter my brain and I become a productive member of society...at least for a day or so. Here is what has been on my mind lately:

1. Really misinterpreted lyrics to songs. When I was little, I thought the song, "Jet Airliner" by Steve Miller really said this: "We Go Jam at the Diner." Never mind the rest of the song makes NO sense in relation to that complete failure on my part to actually hear and interpret correctly. Why was I thinking that this morning? Because I heard the song, "She's a Bad Mamma Jamma" after taking the kids to school. Figuring I had more mistaken lyrics in my head, I came home and googled it. Nope. I have it right. But what in the world is a "Mamma Jamma"? Obviously, in his mind, Carl Carlton sees this as a "good" thing as a mamma jamma has all the things a man likes. Worldly? Yes.

2. Why is it ok to not return phone calls and emails? I need to let this one go. I am fiercely loyal and have learned that throughout my life, I cannot discern healthy and unhealthy relationships unlike most folks who can. Therefore, I tend to stay in relationships that are destructive and unhealthy for me as a result. I always need more closure, to have nothing left unsaid. For once, I need to digest that enough has been said. Time for strength and resolve.

3. Costumes, costumes, costumes. I worked like a woman possessed on Sadie's "Cindy Loo Who" costume for Dr. Seuss day at school. I scored a fiber optic Hannah Montanna wig at WalMart on clearance for $3. Taking a coat hanger I wove the hair into braids and ultimately into that cone shape on top. There are two takes on the Cindy costume - retro cartoon Cindy with those little antenna and pink Mortisha Adams pink dress or Jim Carrey movie Cindy with the funky hair and clothes. We went with the latter. Jay took a pic of me wearing the wig. With my mustard yellow sweater vest, I looked like something slave girl #2 would wear out of Star Trek. Next up...Ethan's costume as... get this...Wilbur Wright of the Wright Brothers. All I can think of is a coat, knickers, bow tie and pipe. I know he won't be caught dead in knickers like I fashioned in 5th grade (thank you, mom), but maybe I can find a bow tie at WalMart on sale.

4. Do I ever want to diligently work on getting a few of my pieces ready to send to publishers? Tough call. My pleasure at the moment is this random, thoughtless writing. Where is my motivation? Where is my muse? Missing for the moment. Or, is this like Rock Band? Just because I play the songs on the Hard level, doesn't mean I can become a drummer.

5. Is everyone on some sort of depression/anxiety medication? I ask this honestly. I think almost every mom I know is taking a pill - Zoloft, Wellbutrin, Xanax, etc. I am not judging anyone as I have partaken at one time, but are we collectively that miserable? What is different from our mothers' lives that makes our emotions totally unpredictable and whacky? Were they just better at hiding it? Can we chalk it up to busy, demanding lives or even simpler, too much hormone in our milk? Please don't think I am judging, as there is certainly a time and place, but the fact that each of these meds have their own websites strikes a dischordant nerve with me.

6. Guilt. Tons and heaps of it. Some misplaced and false and some well-deserved. First and foremost is the RUSH gym membership whose payment is drafted from our checking account each month and with whom I have a ridiculously long contract. In fact, I know I should have run right out the door the minute they presented it to me. But, I didn't because this time it was going to be different. Ha! It has not been utilized since hmmm, October...maybe? I have NO excuses. The kid are in school every morning and even if they weren't they have free childcare. I even have friends that go there. Every month around the 14th (the day the draft takes place), the guilt comes anew. Why don't I just go? Guilt. Definitely a list I should make separately.

7. Food. Particularly Doritos. I haven't purchaed them in years. Yet, yesterday, under the flimsy and thinly veiled excuse of purchasing them for my niece and nephew who are visiting this weekend, I grabbed a bag of Doritos Collision. It combines 2 flavors in 1 bag. In this case Chipotle Ranch and Zesty Taco. Did you know their slogan is, "Prepare to take snacking to a whole new level"? Yeah, I hear ya Frito Lay, a new level of addiction! What do these people put into these chips and cheese dust that draws you in like crack cocaine? Check out the link I included...there is definitely something sinister there. Maybe now I can view them in the light they should be...the predawing of the anticrhist. You have probably guessed by now that my niece and nephew will not be able to partake in the eating of said Doritos, because I finished off the bag this morning.

8. Multiple posts on this topic and it still haunts me. Ironing. Loathsome. But today, necessary. Or is it? What if I just didn't do it?

9. Read this line. Wish I had written it. The worst of our world at the moment: " the celebration of celebrity and novelty over authenticity and seriousness." Marinate on that for a moment.

10. A random selection of other thoughts without detail...Ethan's possible ADD, my weight and healthy eating, picking up Lily on time today, the curious little piles of dirt all throughout the kitchen and dining room, massive colony of ants found in the dining room attracted to Dixie's snacks, calling the lawyer about stock set-up issue for our company, the 10 reasons I need to go to Greensboro for errands, my grandfather's health as he is still in the hospital, how my grandmother will cope if he dies, the "letter" I must read next week to my counselor, wondering how it will go with my niece and nephew this weekend and what they have endured since the last time I saw them, what I would do for a massage and pedicure. I could go on and on and on. Actually, is this anxiety? Let me check out that Xanax again...

What consumes you today?

Life cycle

Have you ever listened to the sound of tennis shoes in the dryer? I mean, really listened? Thump. Tha-thump. Da-da-dump. Banging and thumping around? Slightly unnerving and completely nonrhythmic. At times you think they have hit their mark, creating a steady beat and pace. And then, something trips them up and they go right back to the slamming and clashing against the drum of the dryer.

I listened to this noise for about 30 minutes today and recognized that my life has been a bit like banging around a hot, uncomfortable place lately. Every time I turn around it seems that there is another bump to crash into. As the hot air is forced through me, I am enduring bruises in order to mold me into what I am supposed to be. But that is life, right?

Strangely, it was a comforting sound. I realized that like the dryer cycle, this too shall pass. It won't last forever. The final buzzer of this cycle will sound. It won't last forever. Then, I will be cleaner, better and ready to hit the ground running.

The Death of Words

I read an interesting article here. It is about the oldest words in language and how language evolves. The article, for the most part, is complete bunk, but I became fixated on one part of the piece: Words that are evolving rapidly, and likely to disappear. According to Mark Pagel, a researcher, the following words fall into this category:

Dirty, squeeze, bad, because, guts, push (verb), smell (verb), stab, stick (noun), turn (verb), wipe.

His rationale is that these already differ greatly between related languages, such as English and German, and are good candidates to evolve into new forms. I think the man just randomly picked a group of words that he heard parents say on a daily basis and branded them as such. Well, ok, so maybe not stab and guts - that he got from playing Call of Duty too many times.

I'll throw out that it is the advent of texting that is creating a whole new language and means of communication. "Because" evolves to "cause" evolves to "cuz"? I offer this link of texting abbreviations as some flimsy evidence for my theory (which I am sure is not new or enlightening). I only have a few committed to memory and figure I will never learn to be an extensive texter. Really, when am I ever going to need to know how to text EMRTW (Evil Monkeys Rule The World). Speaking of, I am going phone shopping this week. Since they no longer make a car charger for my phone, I gather my phone is obsolete. I lag behind the technological times.

I have a friend who teaches communications on the college level. She recently posted that she has students who actually answer questions on papers, exams, etc. with texting abbreviations. Clearly, we are regressing. Sad.

Hitting the Slopes

Skiing, in its entirety, goes against every fiber of my being. I blogged about my various fears and quick to panic moments here. Those that heard we were taking a family ski trip this past weekend must have thought about that post and wondered if I had completely lost my mind. It just screams panic for me, doesn't it? And here is why:

1. You must drive into and out of the mountains in order to actually participate in the sport.

2. You must ride a seemingly rickety and ratty chairlift to various drop-off points, high above the ground separated only by a metal bar that is completely controlled by you at any point in time.

3. You must propel yourself down a mountain with little or no control as a beginner.

4. The feeling of being out of control is like nausea, coming out of nowhere, with no warning or preparation. But, you know it is coming with each new decline.

5. You must use muscles you have not used since that one extreme yoga class you swore you would never attend again.

Despite all of this working against me, I remembered how much I love to ski. I know, it makes no sense. I actually drove up to Sugar Mountain (don't you just love that name) while Jay worked on his laptop, via his mobile phone/wireless connection and speaking to his office on my phone. What propelled me over the fear of being in control of a vehicle in the mountains is that I listened to TobyMac on Ethan's mp3 player. I was in the zone with nothing to think about, but the words to his songs. I know it is illegal to have headphones on while driving, but I believe the general population was way safer with me clued into TM than fixated on the steep drop-offs and my ability to drive straight down them.

I have never really thought too much about chairlifts. I remember several years ago Jay and I took the kids to Tweetsie Railroad. You could ride a chairlift up to the top of the mountain where there was a petting zoo and maybe a couple of other rides. We all got into one lift (I don't know how), but guess who starts freaking out? Jay. So much so that he made us all ride the school bus shuttle down the mountain rather than get back on the lift. He couldn't believe we were allowed to bring small children onto that "death trap." I hadn't really given it much thought until this weekend. Jay and I decided to leave the kids back at the condo with the sitter and head out for some night skiing. While in the dark and fog, Jay decides to recount the story which brings rise to panic for me. Finally, when we reach the top of the mountain, my legs are already a little jiggly just from thinking about the stinking chairlift's safety. Then, I had to start skiing down a more challenging slope from the top of the mountain. That was a long, long way down.

I am not an experienced skier. In fact, I took an hour lesson to brush up on what little knowledge I had gained from the last time I went skiing...15 years ago. As a beginner, you teeter between control and out of control constantly. In two days/nights of skiing, I fell. It wasn't a lot - maybe 6 times, but when I did, it wasn't pretty. Face forward falling never is. The best bit of skiing I did was at night, probably because I couldn't really see just how steep the intermediate slope was. And, try as I might, there were times when I knew my arms were flailing, my legs fighting to plow (or make a pizza wedge as they call it now) and I just wanted to let myself go...go right off the side of the mountain rather than fight against my body any more. Despite all of this, I can't wait to go back. The beginner slopes were easy and fun, almost too simple and I can see where as your skills progress the more advanced slopes will be, too.

I do understand the allure of staying in a place with a hot tub. Sunday was a little slow getting out of bed. But by Monday...whoa. Jay and I have hobbled around the house easing out little moans and groans as we traverse the stairs. I still don't get how my arms are as sore as they are...unless the flailing was much worse than I imagine. I know, flailing makes it worse, but sometimes you just can't help it.

The kids did great. Ethan and Sadie were zipping down the intermediate slopes by themselves by the end of the weekend. Sadie liked to know I was behind her. Little did she know I would not have been able to help her if she needed me, but there was comfort for her in that ignorance. I did have an interesting conversation with Sadie on the chairlift:
She said, "Mommy, are you scared about skiing?"
Me: "No, not too bad, why?"
Sadie: "Because Daddy said you were a scaredy-cat."
Me: "He did?" (thinking I have something to say to him)
Sadie: "Yes, but I told him you weren't. You are brave, you know, for a Mommy."
Me: "And, what did he say?"
Sadie: "That maybe you were only a giblet bit scared."
Me: "Well, he is probably right about that one."

Lily was not quite strong enough to make turns, but did manage to stay above her skis. She was a cute little bundled up snow bunny. Next year, she will be old enough to be in ski school. Jay and I agreed that we may finally have found something that the whole family enjoys doing together.