Turkey Trotter's Lament

If you run the Turkey Trot cold-turkey, you may feel a little bit proud of yourself before, during, and immediately after.  You may utter some ridiculous assertion like, "I probably could have run it twice."  You may sit down for your turkey dinner feeling an overabundance of gratitude for your body and its obedience to your every command.  You may believe that Turbo Jam is actually a good substitute for proper training.  You may even consider running 5 miles for Thanksgiving 2010 dressed up, once again, like a cold-turkey.

But just wait until the next day.

If you run in the Turkey Trot and you do it without any preparation, don't be alarmed if you wake up the next day (Black Friday in every sense of the word) and cannot move a muscle in either leg without excruciating pain.  Do not be surprised if the act of descending stairs brings tears to your eyes.  Do not be surprised if you are asking your small children to run "errands" for you -fetch a pillow, turn up the volume, select 3 books (but please not the dog book or any about emergency vehicles).  Don't wonder what's wrong with you when you can't sit down without an involuntary yelp or get back up without grabbing the nearest desk, table, chair, or dresser.

You probably deserve these things as consequence for yesterday's pride.

Home School at its Finest

Butterflies, hearts, and stars

Light blue frosting

Edible glitter and colorful candy embellishments

Oh, the sugary goodness! 

Thank you Swine Flu.

Watching Stars When I Should Be Sleeping

We stayed up all night and into the early hours of this morning, PTB and I.  Today was the Leonid Meteor Shower and we were determined not to miss it.  We hunkered down in sleeping bags in the pitch-black yard and looked to the heavens.  The dark, starlit sky was enough, on its own, to take my breath away, but then there was the show --full of the kind of splendor and magnificence that only nature and nature's God can manifest.  I wish I could have (or would have) tried to digitally capture these streaks of light darting across an absolutely gorgeous and indescribably complex backdrop.  It was an image that my mind will pull up and contemplate throughout the rest of my life.  I really cannot put into words the feelings of my heart or the ideas that sink deep into my mind when I lay so still and quiet under a dark night sky --especially this morning.  Wow.  

"The contemplation of celestial things will make a man both speak and think more sublimely and magnificently when he descends to human affairs." -Cicero

A Boy and a Button

This is my son.

We named him Gerret.  That's a story for another day.

We call him Pooka.  That's also an entirely separate story.

Today's story is not of names, but of objects.

This is a button.  It is a representation of the one Gerret found in the depths of our red armchair yesterday.  The actual button was blue, with four holes, the approximate size of a penny.

On Saturday PTB was in Ithaca at work, I was moving furniture (including the armchair), and Nolan was on my bed imagining it was a fire station --intermittently setting off to fight fires in various locations throughout our apartment. Gerret was wandering.  He wanders a lot.

As he explored Saturday, The Pook stuck his hand underneath the cushion of said armchair and came out with a handful of buttons.  He claimed one smallish blue one as his own and allowed it to accompany him on his wanderings.  I noticed, but wasn't too concerned, as he was just carrying it around in the palm of his hand.  He does still use his mouth as a mode of exploration, but is good about aborting when asked.  So, I let him keep the button and went on doing my thing.

A while later, I took a break from moving furniture and joined Nolan at the fire station.  When Pooka also retired to my bed, I noticed him juggling the blue button with his tongue.

"Spit it out".

He looked at me, smirked at me, then buried his face in a pillow.  "No. Spit it out," I ordered as I pried him from the pillow and placed my open hand beside his chin. To my dismay, the button was no longer in his mouth.  I looked under the pillow.  I looked under some blankets.  Then I tore the bed apart looking for that blue button.  It was nowhere to be found.  "Where is it?" I asked.  He pointed to his mouth.

When PTB arrived home later that afternoon, I told him that his son had swallowed a button.  PTB's immediate response was, "Did you send him to his room?"  You see, in our house our boys take a time out on their beds when they are disobedient, however in this case of disobedience, I determined that the natural consequence for swallowing a button was punishment enough.  My punishment for being an unconcerned mother: a treasure hunt for the next few days.

Copper

  The giving and receiving of affection between human and beast is pretty unique, in my opinion.  There is a special comfort in taking care of an animal physically and being emotionally cared for in return.  The connection is so rewarding.  I've always loved animals.  All kinds.  If I hadn't already decided that a mothering agenda was most important to me,  I would have been a plausible applicant for vetrinary school. 

On the other hand, my appreciation for horses has never been enough to make me desire one.  Their commanding presence and enormous size have always been a little bit frightening to me.  My only memory of riding a horse is comical, at best.  My family took a vacation to the Rocky Mountains when I was 12 or 13.  There, we ended up on horseback on a ranch in Wyoming.  What was a wonderfully memorable experience for my family ended up being a frustrating and slightly scary experience for me.  I was assigned to a horse named Joe who showed no respect for his rider.  While the line of riders in front of me traveled in tidy procession, Joe was trying to turn around or veer off the beaten path.

So when my young sisters expressed interest in horses and my mom announced that they'd be owning one, I was anything but thrilled.  I helped build fence out of the kindness of my heart and kept negative thoughts to myself.  And then his home was ready and Copper became the newest family member.  The first day, I designated myself photographer as an excuse to keep some distance.  The following day I ended up outside by myself and decided to give Copper a chance and go say "hello".  Hello turned into a touch, then a response, and suddenly there was a connection --the human to beast kind that I never expected or hoped to have with a horse.

effecting change

Because the intention of effecting change is that it will be long-term...
Because it takes more than one try to actually effect a change.... 
Because I'm human (and you are probably too) and tend to throw in the towel when I'm not successful by the second or third try...
Because change has everything to do with the establishment or destruction of habits...

Real change requires having goals.  The kind that you're so serious about that you actually write them down, look over again and again, and work on.

Real change is evaluation at the end of the day and recommitment the next morning.  It has something to do with being hopeful in the midst of failure.  It has everything to do with gratitude for the greatest sacrifice, which makes it possible to leave our incomplete, unhappy, filthy, ignorant, or otherwise tainted selves behind and work toward better things.  As mentioned before, this kind of change brings happiness.  Happiness --pure and independent of outside sources.


I'm too self-conscious (the next pitfall to overcome) to disclose my short-term goals, but I will tell you that change is coming s-l-o-w-l-y.  Ever so slowly.  So slowly that I'm sure nobody has noticed but me.

However self-conscious, I will share a few minor results:
1.  I can walk like a normal person again!  I wear my favorite pair of shoes everyday just to remind myself how much I love walking.  Now on to bigger and better things.  Like running.

2. Nature's treasures turned artwork by Nolan.

3.  Turbo Jam has me enamored.  It is everything I hoped it would be and even more sweat than I expected.  And that's a really good thing.

grateful praise

The majesty of the earth just blows my mind, especially when places like this exist down the street and all around me. Sometimes I watch out the window as we drive from place to place and the beauty is so surreal to me, I feel like I'm in a painting or a movie. The wonderful thing about living away from a city is being surrounded by the fantasy of God's creations. They truly testify of something much bigger than man or his handiwork.

"All things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth and all things that are upon the face of it..." Alma 30:44

Something Beautiful

From all sides, adoption is a beautiful thing, deeply rooted in love, family, selflessness, and desire to bless lives. Perhaps I haven't experienced love and hope given in this way, but I have seen lives changed forever because of adoption, and my heart has definitely been moved and changed because of their stories and stories like this:
and this (Go watch it. It's short and wonderful).

November is Adoption Awareness Month and though I don't claim to know too much about adoption, I do know that it is so, so good for everyone involved. I also know someone who does know plenty about adoption and shares her understanding freely and in such a sweet way. Go here to read her.

Around the Burg

This addition:

The elementary school in your town probably has one, too, but in the burg it's a little different. At events like this, in small villages like this, you're likely to know half the crowd. And you'll recognize the other half. It's a real community sort of a feel.

There's something especially welcoming about a bundled-up community, gathering in crisp autumn air, with plenty of exuberant children (in fact, all of the children for miles). With some creativity, some laughter and joking, and a ghoulish utterance or two, such an event can liven even the darkest of spirits.

Here's to you, an invitation to come next year. Bring a thermos of warm cider. Wear your own costume. It's sure to be a real Halloween treat.