HALLOWE'EN = SHE'S CRAFTY

So,much like the Beastie Boys inspiring me to let my Jr. High badd ass out once in a while and uhhhget funky, Halloween brings out my inner crafting nerd. Those close to me know I'm a novice crafter for sure, but each Halloween I get a little further out of my creative comfort zone.
Every fall, I pick a handful of crafts to add to my growing collection of decor for my FAVORITE holiday.Some family friendly for the kiddos, and some all me. This year, adding a training schedule, a new duty station and the Rangers making the playoffs AND into the World Series has really put a damper on me getting this blog posted sooner. Needless to say, my priorities are a little wack.Usually I have a theme for our crafting, but this year it was kind of willy-nilly, picking and choosing things I thought looked cool. Last year, we went in a Day of the Dead direction (Check out the archives section --->) and those cool crafts made a cameo in this years decorating.

With just a week to go 'till trick-or-treater's grace my doorstep, I have finally had to stop myself and just be happy with whats been done thus far. After all, I don't need to add to my too-many-storage-bins, and this post is temporary.

So one of my favorite crafts this year was this Craft Pumpkin OWL

Isn't this adorable?? I started with a black craft pumpkin, found at most craft stores (like Micheal's, Hobby Lobby).
I used fake flowers I had for the eyes,first piercing the craft pumpkin with a nail, and pushing the stem through. You may need to glue the flowers in place.
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For the beak and ears, I used the leaves that were on the flower bunches. I folded a larger leave almost in half, and glue-gunned it into place. I then glued the "ears" to a toothpick, folding the bottom point up, so the bottom was flat. I pierced the craft pumpkin with a nail and pushed the toothpicks into place. SUPER EASY AND SO FREAKING CUTE!!! I wanted to make more, but the kids stole the other two craft pumpkin from me :(

Decoupaged TV Trays

I had two crappy TV Trays I picked up from a thrift store that I had high hopes for, but alas, they just sat in a corner, in all their ugliness. Once we got settled in the new house, i thought, " this is the perfect time to make these TV trays less ugly". The original idea was to decoupage them with pin-up pictures, but after spraying them with a black primer, I thought they would make a great Halloween prop.

I had this picture form an earlier craft. It's actually from an old calendar and I love the old school charm it had, plus it's a thicker paper, whch makes it perfect for this craft.

Finished product after about 6 layers of Modge-Podge.I think I did this during a play off game that went into extra innings, giving me plenty of time between coats to let it dry. Since I only used one tray, the other will be something spectacular soon (she says with determination).

Bottles of Potions and Poisons

I'm sure you've seen this done a hundred times in all the Halloween magazines, or October issues of whatever you subscribe too. We HAD to make this one to compliment our new computer-cabinet-turned-bar.
I found the two decorative bottles at a local thrift store, cleaned them out and added some stickers the kids picked out. We filled them with Good'N Plenty candy for the "pills". The smaller jar is actually an old spice jar we filled with gummy worms (that keep disappearing!)The goblet is an old decoration we've had for years, with (plastic) spiders and snakes crawling out of it, and in the far back, I have an older Partylites vase with votive holder filled with one of our favorite treats:candy corns.It's all resting on a shiny silver charger (from the Goodwill) This is not a very good picture, but it serves it purpose.

Banister craft as seen in Halloween Trick and Treats 2011 magazine (Better Homes and Gardens special interest magazine, couldn't find a link)
These were supposed to come out much fluffier, but, I did let the kids do this one after experimenting with what worked best for us. I really tried to use what I already had, but found the original idea was a bit too involved for little hands, so we changed it up a bit and came up with this:

I meant to take pics of the step-by-step process, but I can break it down for you here
We used paper doilies and coffee filters. I spray painted the smaller doilies black for added detail. We layered the items as seen,experiment to find a looks you like. I suggest using way more filters for a fuller look. We secured them all together with a large embellished brad for ease and to finish the look, and I affixed them to our small banister with double sided heavy duty tape. The kids LOVED doing this. They really took their time and it was cool to watch them problem solve, and get creative with their pieces.
TIP** I would use a hole bunch or scissors to punch/cut a small hole in the middle of each layer to make it easier to get the brad through.

Poison Apples
This is less a craft and more of me stealing something I saw in a catalog and LOOOOOOOOVED. My kids love apples. It seems we always have them in the house, so i thought this was just too cute to pass up.

So, basically this is my trifle dish, without the stand and some fancy font in word, cut out and taped on to make the kids "treat" a "trick"! More goulish paper would have been cooler, but all that craps still packed away and I wasn't about to go digging in piles of boxes for one piece of paper.

Also, in this picture is a beautiful old lace tablecloth I picked up at the post thrift store, and added 4 sheets of laminated scrapbook pages ($1.99 at Micheal's) to set our table. My tab;e is rectangular, but the tablecloth is more oblong, which gives the set up an old, vintage look.

Stuff not seen are the really cool lace curtains I used as swags ($3 at the post thrift), some random decorations, and my porch, but nothing really very crafty. I had to put the curtains up, since we don't actually have any window treatments. Derek gave me the "no-go" on that since our time here is limited. I affixed the swags with reusable adhesive tabs and some old plastic shower curtain hooks. So, take THAT "minimal decorating".

If you're crafty, leave a comment with your favorite craft this (or any) year, and if you just love to decorate with all the cool stuff in the stores, post what your favorite purchase is/has been! I love getting new ideas!! It's never to early to start thinking about NEXT year .... (maniacal laughter...)

Empty calories, or feelings... I'm not sure

Do you know what this is? Besides 360 empty calories? It’s a Krispy Kreme chocolate frosted crème filled doughnut. It was also my lunch. Why would I do such a thing? Why would I knowingly eat something so bad for me, when I have plenty of nutritious food for me in my kitchen?I write a BLOG on whole foods!!! Why was this effing thing stale?!?!

After paying for this with cash, to not leave an electronic trail, and stuffing it into my face in the car, in the parking lot of the place I purchased it of course immediately feeling guilt, I pondered on what brought me to such a low point at only 11:00 in the morning.

For starters, we have been waiting a month for our internet to work. A MONTH. Sure, some people find wi-fi a luxury, but in this house, it’s a necessity. I have queries to submit and writer’s guidelines to research. We’ve been using our phones wi-fi hotspot function since August to do everything from banking to school help for the kids. It’s slooooooooow to say the least. So when you’ve made 7 different appointments, used 2 different companies and have intermittent internet usage, it’s frustrating to say the least. I missed two deadlines this morning. One was a personal goal; one could have been a paying submission. Both we re equally stressful.

Maybe it’s the lack of lower numbers on the scale, despite all my running and calorie counting and whole foods diet. It’s like a punch in the stomach every time I get on that scale and see the 4 lbs I lost last week back on there… over and over. Then again, I guess if I wasn’t shoving cupcakes and Krispy Kremes in my face, this would be a non issue.

Maybe living in Virginia is taking it’s toll? I miss good customer service – this is nonexistent here. We have had issues with EVERY major utility AND purchase since we moved in. It took 2 tries (and two companies) to get our washer and dryer delivered, 3 visits to get our cable hooked up, 7 tries (fingers crossed) for our internet to work. We’ve been stood up, hung up on and “whatever”’d. And there is nothing we can do about it but complain.

Or… the lack of a good radio station. It’s Gospel, Country, R&B and a station that loves the Eagles and ZZ Top a little too much. Sometimes you just need to crank up the music to a really good song. But really, who still listens to the radio? I should just plug in my phone/Ipod like every one else.


But the crescendo, or maybe the only REAL issue here, is that one of my kids is having a really tough time in school. She’s miserable. New school, new curriculum, new way of doing things. The south is a little less…err, liberal… than the west coast. Teaching styles are different. She’s used to being “the good kid”. Teachers knew her, and they knew me. Here, she’s just another new kid. It’s not abnormal for her to get an F. Not to them. And it certainly doesn’t warrant a call/email/note home, as it would have before. Her self esteem is affected, she’s embarrassed to ask for more help at school and unfortunately, Derek and I don’t know jack about Virginia history. So, this morning, after letting her stay home an hour due to “an upset tummy” I tried to talk to her about why it was she was avoiding class today. Total epic meltdown ensued. It was awful. She was crying and pleading.
“ I hate it here…teachers are mean… home school me”
And I did the typical thing of getting frustrated with her –after I asked her to open up to me- and yelled at her out of frustration.
“This is our life now”. I said. “Washington is gone, it’s in the past, and you need to deal with this change”.
I felt like a total jerk. I tried to make up for it on the ride to school, but she was done with me, and I didn’t blame her. It’s hard to see our kiddos in pain. It’s hard to not be able to fix it right away. But I also have to let her learn things on her own. To fix things on her own. To adapt to change.

In all honesty, I can say I was eating my feelings, dealing with stress by comforting myself with chocolaty pastries. But in reality I had been coveting this stupid doughnut since I saw them in a package of 8 at the commissary. The only reason I hadn’t really given in was because I didn’t want a whole pack, I just wanted the one. And once I saw that I could purchase just one at the local Class Six the decision was made. It was just a matter of time before I made one of these my biotch.I was just waiting for the perfect excuse.

To try to even out my bad decisions today, I talked to the school counselor, made a conference appointment with Ru’s teachers AND parked super far out in the lot when I went to the commissary. That's all the fixing I can do for one day.

2:07:41

Is it strange that my time for the ARMY ten miler is eerily close to my birth date?
Is it stranger that I completed the Army Ten miler? I mean, after all, it was TEN miles. Ten miles of mostly jogging, mixed with some serious running and less than a 1/2 mile of non-consecutive walking. It was amazing. Amazing for so many reasons, but mostly for the reason that I FINISHED IT. I have a coin, a shirt and a certificate to prove it, and although 30,000 people trek to this event each year, I am still in a small group that can proudly claim " I was there".
ARMYTENMILER CLASS OF '11.

We arrive Saturday late afternoon. We head directly over to the D.C. Armory, where race packet pick up is being held and I marvel at all the refurbished row houses and the open air markets in this cute neighborhood. I also take notice that despite the Indian Summer we seem to be having, the leaves are starting to tint orange...red...yellow. The Armory is also the site of a health expo that coincides with the race.I hop out to get the packets while Derek finds a place to park. Seeing static displays are second nature to me,so I think it's really cool when I hear people get excited about the helicopter, stryker, soldiers. I also think it's really cool that I get to bypass the long lines to enter the expo by showing my military ID at the side door. Membership has it's privileges.

Packet pick-up is super organized, and each line I need to be in seems to be the fastest moving. I quietly hope it is a sign of how my running will be. I laugh at myself for having such ostentatious fantasies. Derek and I pick up our race shirts, then head over to the merchant booths to see if there's anything we can't live without. I find a few shirts with witty slogans ("in my dreams, I'm a Kenyan", " This seemed like a good idea 3 months ago", ) and I get my first real wave of nervousness.
As we drive through the city to our hotel, I try to navigate the area from memory. It's been several years since we explored here, and some things have changed, but I still know my way around. We pass the Watergate complex,and I make a joke about being deepthroat. Derek seems unimpressed, but I know he thinks it's funny.
We check in, get up to our room, only to realize OUR room is actually someone else's room, and thank God we didn't walk in on someone having a little late afternoon delight, or getting out of the shower, or picking their nose. Back down the oldest elevator in the free world, new room, up elevator, room is free of other people. We forgo a late reservation at the Italian place across the street for a walk a block over to Whole Foods to pick up dinner. I get brown rice, mac&cheese and a salad, and later lament " carbs... why did I load you?!?" I take a warm bath, center myself and head off to bed while Derek watches the Rangers game get delayed. In a few short hours, I will put my training to the test.

5am comes early, and I am not a morning person. Banana and almond butter for breakfast, followed by coconut water and really shitty coffee. I make a mental note to stop at Starbucks on the way to the metro, but immediately dismiss that thought in fear of throwing it up, or worse, having to poo in a port-o-potty. No thanks.
Running skirt? Check! Wrist sweat band? Check! Totally lame sunglasses? Check! I decide not to wear a long sleeve shirt, even though the morning is supposed to be chilly. I figure my fear of the metro, and nervous energy will keep me warm enough.
It actually ends up being surrounded by hundreds,thousands of runners that does the trick.
The metro is packed (and surprisingly clean and well-lit), standing room only. It takes about 15 minutes to get out of the Pentagon station once we arrive. The lines to the port-o-potties are so long, we fear missing our start time. We finally get to the starting area, and I realize I'm terribly thirsty. WHY DIDN'T I BRING WATER??? It's 20 more minutes before we start moving, and even then, it's a 1/2 mile walk to the starting line. I'm stretching, getting crazy loose and my nervous energy subsides into excitement. While I'm sure there are "elite" runners here, they are waaaaaaay up ahead of me, their start time already on the clock. Most people around me seem pretty normal. Except the one douche bag making fun of people for having water belts/GU/supplements on them. "It's only 10 miles" he says. Ok, cool guy... I'll see YOU at the finish line. I also regret Derek not having his water belt, my throat is so dry.
And we're off. To a slow and steady pace. We had trained on a 10/2 system of running 10 minutes, walking 2. We decide to run for 2 miles, then see how we feel. I feel like walking,and 2 minutes later we're heading towards mile three. We have already passed the Lincoln Memorial, Arlington Bridge, two water stations (amen) and are heading towards Watergate. I ask Derek if we can just go back to our hotel. He laughs at me. My lame sunglasses keep fogging up. I hate them. But it's bright, and squinting sucks.
The goal is to get to mile 5 before the 1:20 mark, because that's when they cut people off, shorten the course and you don't get to complete the full ten. We get their in plenty of time only to hear someone shout we have 2/10 of a mile to go (ummm... did they change the rule?!?! The course?!?! WTF?!?!). I break into a run. It probably wasn't fast, but it was much faster than my current pace AND my training pace. I was not about to get cut off now. I pushed past mile 6...

...then I drank the Gatorade. I knew not to gulp. On all the previous water stations, I swished and spit, taking just enough water in to hydrate and not cramp. But this time, my fatigue and thirst got the batter of me (it was SOOO hot!!). I didn't mean to do it, I had no control over my actions. And the next thing I knew, three cups of Gatorade were gone. It was time to walk. I begged Derek for a 1/2 mile to let the fluids... I don't know, disappear, maybe? Just time to not have them sloshing in my belly. I was sure, if I started running, that Gatorade was going to make a second appearance. He gave me 1/4 mile. That's all I needed. We got back to a comfortable (slow) pace, and watched as mile marker 7, then 8 went by. We joked and talked to other runners as we jogged up the ramp to the George Mason Memorial Bridge. We were almost done.
Then, we came into view of the wounded warriors. How do you quit (or slow down) when you see persons with one leg, no legs, running? How do you tell yourself, it's too hot, it's too hard, it's too far? You don't. Because these guys are still going. There was a moment, when one of these warriors with a running prosthetic had to stop and take a minute, and he was apologizing to his (two legged) team mates. And I wanted to say, " Do you know how amazing you are? You have one LESS needed limb for running, yet you're still doing it." That is my only regret of the day, that I didn't actually say it. Instead, I dug a little deeper, ran a little straighter, complained a little quieter. Became a little prouder. Not of myself, but of humanity. I ran the last three miles of this race, not stopping,no 10/2 training plan, because I knew I could.
Mile 9 marker goes by... just one more mile. Literally, this time. Derek starts to get giddy. He's cheering me, but I'm still focused on my pace. I'm hot, so hot, and sore already and a mile is still pretty far. I want the finish line, and water. We can see the Pentagon, the finish line balloons.I say out loud that I think I have pulled my uterus. Derek grabs my hand and I think to myself, "I actually did it". Hands clasped, arms up, we pass over the finish line. I think it's 2:30:and change because that's what the clock says. I forget that we started way after the time clock. I'm elated, exhausted, thirsty. We have to walk FOREVER through the chutes, passed piles of empty water bottles and discarded water pallets. I'm feeling woozy and I swear it's getting hotter. We walk passed shade and into blacktop parking lots. We get our coins, then, miraculously, water. I take two.
We start to make out way back to the metro. All I want is a juicy hamburger then a cupcake. I deserve it. My legs are so sore, and I have chaffing and aches in unusual places. WE hop a fence, then some concrete barriers and I'm amazed I can still command my lower half to function. I stop and stretch. I need to stop, but I'm afraid if I do stop, I won't get going again. I stretch some more.We see the masses heading down into the metro and I fear I will starve to death before we make it back to Foggy Bottom.
After a series of both fortunate, and unfortunate, events, we finally sit our sweaty, stiff selves into cushioned seats for a burger. We see people who recognize us from the 6:30am metro ride,they, too still have their race bibs on. They appear less sweaty, less taxed,more comfortable than I.
As we walk back to the hotel, people congratulate us. I want to shower, then sleep. But we have 45 minutes to be out of the hotel, and Derek has promised me a trip to Georgetown Cupcakes for my race award. I get the chocolate coconut,Derek gets the red velvet. We pick carrot cake to share later, and three more for the kids makes it an even 1/2 dozen.
As we make our way back towards the highway, we decide we would love to live here. And we start talking about "next year". Making plans to come back to D.C. before our 6months is up. Making plans for our next race,I tell myself 10 miles is the most I will ever need to run. By Monday, I will have contemplated training for a half marathon. By Tuesday, I will decide my recovery period is over and make plans for a 2.5 mile run Wednesday morning.

You don't have to be thin, or an athlete or even have two legs to run. You just have to do it. 2:07:41 says so.

Get Your Kicks...

Hello world and sweet readers!!I'm here (waves hands)!!! For those of you who thought I died,let me put those rumors to rest. In actuality, we have relocated to Virginia via the good 'ole Army and military schooling. We left our beloved Fort Lewis in early August and took a 30 day walkabout (or drive-a-bout, if you will) coast to almost-coast summer vacation (read blog for deets) visiting family and landmarks along the way. I had planned to blog about our escapades as we traveled, but like so many good intentions, things (like shitty hotel wi-fi, kids bouncing off the walls, funner stuff) kept me from a nightly/weekly/monthly update. But I am mostly settled and so happy to get back to making random thoughts and experiences public forum on the world wide web. Oh... how I've missed my blog.

The interstate. What can I say about this many lane-d deathtrap, other than I hate it? The interstate was invented to get travelers from A to B quickly, and with as little fun as possible. It's fast, usually packed with non-courteous drivers and there's nothing to see except the random outlet mall, kooky 18-wheeler driver or dead armadillos. As I'm sure many of you learned from Cars and Lightning McQueen, this dastardly thingy we call an Interstate mostly killed off small town America.It turned once bustling vacation stops into ghost towns and slums. Ever heard of Route 66? I'm sure you have... but have you ever DRIVEN it? You can barely drive the whole 2,448 miles, in its original entirety anymore without the help of websites, or following historic marker. According to Wikipedia, and The Mother Road the original highway has been altered and even abandoned, disappearing into the horizon. How about the 101? It's also called the Pacific Coast Highway - for one because it runs along the rocky coasts of Washington, Oregon and California. It is literally the most beautiful strip of two lane blacktop I have ever taken. Evergreens, ocean, tiny forgotten towns. And so much to do along the way.How about HWY 285? HWY 380? HWY 460?

Well, I, for one, can't pass up a good detour. Ever. It's become a little joke-sky in my family that I can't ever just go from A to B. It's just not in me.The largest Rocking Chair? I saw it. Meteor Crater? Been there. And I've got the magnets to prove it. So... when we were planning our PCS (move), I got to looking at an atlas(not google maps, but the real paper deal) and realized quite a few things. First - there are several ways to get from A to B; a lot of them awesome, fun packed ways. Secondly - there were ALOT of things in our area we hadn't done yet. And thirdly - we had done this almost exact same drive 5 years earlier when we moved from Maryland to Washington. We needed a different route. We had to make this one better. I talked the hubby into taking some much needed leave,and making an even bigger adventure out of the already wacky thing called the military PCS. 30 days of travel. THIRTY. In some states, that's a month. We mapped out routes; places we HAD to see before we left the Pacific NW, places we had to see along the way, and all the friends and family in between that would offer to put us up. What we got at the end was the adventure of a lifetime, some good quality memories, and a new appreciation for our own beds.
Don't get me wrong, not every moment was fun (like when Hope pooped in the car), not every outing was worth the money (the Sea Lion Caves were MEH) and not every hotel was worth the "deal" (Econo-Lodge in Oregon). There were plenty of times I wanted to (did) scream at the kids to "keep it down/stop fighting/shuttheeffup" and I took baths in some pretty seedy tubs, just to have a 20 minute break from the craziness. 5 people and a dog should never co-habitate in the same motel room, but we did it and lived to tell the blog worthy tale. The next few posts will be a time line of the adventures - or mis-adventures - of the Foster Family. And the next time you're headed west (or east, in our case) Grab an atlas and make your own adventure. Lifes too short to just take the Interstate.

Slow mileage

Running BLOWS. BLLLOOWWWSSSS!!! I'm a tubby bitch and I'm short. I'm like one hairy mole away from the the non-runner trifecta. I literally dislike every second of running. I've cried on a run lasting less than two miles. Yes,cried. I've been mistaken for an asthmatic... by my husband, while running. And to be honest, I'm really misusing the word "running".People who run move from point A to point B at a quick pace. Their lean legs carrying them on long strides, their feet barely touching the ground beneath them. I am neither quick nor lean. I think I'm more of a jogger. A chunky,wheezing,ground pounding, crying jogger. At best.
So why am I doing something that makes me so miserable? For one, I forgot to mention I'm dumb. Secondly, I let my "I ran a marathon" husband sign me up for the Army 10 miler in October (YES, 10 FREAKING MILES) and lastly,I'm addicted to the way I felt after running my first race. I don't run far and I don't run fast, but I don't quit. And that is quite an accomplishment.
I've always wanted to be a runner. I've envied the ladies, in their little shorty shorts and their sports bras without the back boobs, seemingly effortlessly gliding through an hour on the treadmill. Or the toned legged cuties who run 6 miles "just for fun". Pshhhhh. Whatever. I can think if 25 other things more fun than running. Maybe that's' my problem... my attitude towards running sucks. So along with my husband signing us up for the million miler or whatever it's called, I also said yes when a friend invited me to an all woman's 4k. Sure, a 4k (or just under 2.5 miles) may seem like a breeze, and if you're an avid runner, it is. A 4k is probably your "rest day" run, or what you do to "warm up". But for Tubby McSlowlegs over here, 2.5 miles is like a loooooong way. It was over twice as long as I had ever run, consecutively in like my adult life. A mile was always my goal, and I abruptly would end my run at a mile. No further. I told myself I couldn't go farther, so I never did. Until my husband decided it was time to start training. Running with " a runner" sucks. They've been where you are now,and they know you CAN do it, so they make you. When you run with a runner, there is no quitting. You can slow down, you can complain, you can even cry. But you can't quit. Running with a runner also turns your breathless one mile into 2.75 miles of " I can't believe I just did that".
So I trained for about three weeks, (even by myself a few days and I didn't cheat) progressively adding distance until I had surpassed what I needed to run for the 4k. On race day, I was totally nervous. I mean, I get it was only 2.5 miles, but I was running these 2.5 miles. Alone. And I didn't even really have a cheering squad. It got in my head a little. I glanced around at all the other "runners", with their bibs dangling from their shirts, and I realized there were a lot of regular chicks just like me there. And there were a lot of walkers, so I knew I could at least come in BEFORE most of them.
TIP* Always check out your course before you race. I did not. There were hills. Hills are stupid.
"AND GO!" is how this race started. I think. I was kinda a nervous wreck and I was so busy jacking with my running app on my phone I actually missed the start signal and just started moving with the crowd. We rounded the track and entered a trail. It was like a cattle call, not a lot of space to move, and at first I was playing it safe, not really moving passed people, and clinging to the very far right in case someone needed to get around me. Then, all of a sudden, a crazy thing happened. I was closing in on this woman wearing a tulle petticoat, and I can just assume she heard my heavy breathing behind her and she got nervous, but she tucked her skirt into her arms and said "all clear". To me. I was passing another runner. And this began the epic mind control that I used on every other runner I passed. I passed a few more people who had stopped to walk (the trail was very hilly)and thought to myself I was glad the hubs made me do some hills on the trail we trained on. ("hills are speed work in disguise", he would irritatingly say while I was dying)
I was feeling pretty good as I cleared the trail into a neighborhood. Quite a few people had started walking by this point, and the jerk inside me thought "quitter!!", although that's so far from the truth. I stayed slow and steady in my pace. Even when this lady started using me as her gauge and would walk fast until I passed her, then she would run, staying right behind me, only to walk once she passed me again. She kept this up for about 1/2 of a mile, until my slow and steady pace left her in the dust. My heavy breathing intimidated people to move out of my way as I crept up on them. I was kinda like that asshole in the fast lane that just rides your ass until you finally move over. Only I wasn't speeding, I was just going slightly faster than the people directly in front of me. And it felt awesome. I wasn't going to put this in my blog, but I like to just let my nerd flag fly, so here goes - after each person I passed, I said (to myself, not out loud) " I'm stealing your power". I know!! TOTALLY LAME, but mentally, I needed it. It manifested physically for me. It made me work just a little bit harder as I came up on someone. As I finished the last of the street and headed into the parking lot towards the trail we started in, I realized I was alone. I had just passed the last person that I could see in front of me. Hitting that trail all by myself, hearing just MY breath, MY footsteps on the dirt was so peaceful I almost got emotional. I was less than 1/2 a mile away from finishing my first race, running the entire time, by myself. And as I was nearing the end of the trail, I heard one of the volunteers yell out to me " Great job... you're at 21 minutes and change!". WHAT?!? I thought for sure I had gone past my 30 minute goal already. I picked up the pace, practically threw myself down the last hill of the coarse and tried my best to hall ass onto the track. And then my legs reminded me that slow was more my style. I could see the finish line and I just wanted to make it there before any of the people I passed up saw how slow I had gotten. I did sprint the last, oh... seven steps or so. And there, waiting for me was a silver platter full of chocolates.
TIME : 27:37 - 92 out of 195 . Not too shabby for a new runner. And God, did it feel good. Maybe that's the runners high people talk about? Until that moment, I thought it was just something runners said to encourage non-runners to punch them in the face.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank those people who helped me get that moment.
Thanks Dania Bandas, for taking my joke about running being gross to the next level and inviting me to participate. I honestly appreciate you picking THIS race as my first of many to come.
Thanks to the ladies who didn't dress all uber cool runner chick, and showed up in yoga pants, baggy t's and even jeans.
Thanks to the lady in the martini costume who was slightly ahead of my up the hilly street! Nothing more motivating than chasing a drink.
thanks to the lady who run/walk raced me. You only made me feel more confident in my pace each time you passed me. I watched you run through the finish line well after I had gulped my Gatorade, eaten my chocolate and stretched
.No hard feelings.
Thanks to my free app RunKeeper for allowing me the freedom to just run while you do the hard work like track my route, miles and time.
And of course, THANK YOU to my husband Derek. Thanks for encouraging me, pushing me (even when I cried and said I hated you)picking trails instead of the treadmill and telling me my 11:37 minute mile was really good, even though we both know it's mediocre at best. Thanks for jogging along side me at my slowest and not leaving me behind even when I know it's not a good workout for you. Thanks for always being that one person who encourages me and believes in me, ESPECIALLY when I don't believe in myself.Thanks for leaving the pepper spray in my car for me after I told you I was nervous to run the trails solo. I still think that long ass hill on day 2 was total bullshit, but I apologize for laughing when that snake freaked you out.
Thank you to myself for taking my desire to be a runner from theory to practice.

The worst day of my life

Have any of you seen Office Space? Hilarious movie, but this scene kinda sums up my mood lately. Only it should start with, " Ever since I found out my daughter isn't graduating with her class."

So if you've been wondering where I've been, or why I'm stressed, that's the reason. Wondering why I'm not at derby practice, the gym, or returning your texts? Because I have been in a total funk. I have been in "failure as a mother" land, "how did this happen -ville", " WTF city". I have been having the worst day of my life. It's very sad in these places.

Disappointed barely begins to describe the range of emotions I've been experiencing. People say there are 5 stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.
I'm somewhere around anger and depression, and I really don't think I'll ever get to acceptance, the reason being, is that she LIED about it. She lied to us for over a year, probably longer than that. She lied all the way up to the 11th hour, honestly thinking someone would feel bad enough for her to let her walk with her class, even though she hadn't done the work. "The work" being finishing two online classes of English she failed as a Freshman and Sophomore. Yes, I realize she had two years to get these done. I KNOW she knew this, because I harped on her about it weekly. She actually tried to get these done in three days. AFTER telling us it was done. Lying about why the tests hadn't come in. Blaming everyone but herself. Never actually taking responsibility for it. She failed.

I had the proud duty of calling my parents, who had already booked trips out here, to tell them that their first grandchild wouldn't be walking with her class, and there would be no graduation celebration. A celebration we had all been looking forward to. This was, after all, 17 years in the making. Patience was going to break the cycle of non-graduates on my side of the family. I guess I set my standards too high. Sadly, plane tickets are non- refundable now-a-days. So everyone decided to come out anyways, as planned, for one last trip to the Seattle area, since we are moving very soon. You know, my step-dad was the ONLY person to take the situation and the mood into consideration. He actually asked me how I felt about having family come out. He gave ME the option to bow out.That meant quite a bit to me, knowing, that this was a difficult time for ME, as well as our family.He offered to come at a later time, or even hold off the trip until we were in Virginia.
But just like all stressful things, it's always better to deal with them in the company of your parents. So the weekend that was to be graduation packed fun days were spent being grieved in the company of family.

Luckily, no one really brought it up. I think everyone could tell I was in no mood to discuss it. Or they took cues from the tense conversations I was having with Patience. I really think EVERYONE was holding out hope she would pull it out of her ass at the last minute. Derek and I had already decided, that even if she passed the classes (which she had NO TIME to get the test results back on anyway) we weren't going to let her walk. Neither of us felt she deserved it. WE deserved it, because WE sacrificed for this moment. But SHE did not.

This entire last year here was for her. Derek made sacrifices in his career to be HOME for her graduation. We were supposed to be on to our next duty station, but Derek fought for stabilization orders for her to finish high school here. With her friends. Like normal kids get to do. I'm quite positive she took none of this into consideration as she was doing everything under the sun EXCEPT the one thing that she needed to do to graduate.

I guess I'm so disappointed for two reasons. Obviously, I wanted to be a part of the pomp and circumstance that a graduation ceremony brings.I wanted to yell and scream as her name was called out and she walked the stage. I wanted to snap pictures of her in her cap and gown and I wanted HER to have those memories, hugging freinds and sharing in the pride of a right of passage.
But even more upsetting was the lying. I'm not proud of her. And that is a terrible feeling to experience. I have been disappointed by her actions before, don't get me wrong. But in the 17 years I've been her mother, I don't think I've ever been this kind of NOT PROUD, totally ashamed of her actions. It hurts. It is a tangible ache inside of me, knowing that the person I raised could be so selfish, so uncaring, and so self involved to take no ones feelings into consideration, to be so disrespectful to every person that made her who she is, and helped her get to where she is today, that her thanks to all of us - TO ME - was to lie about a situation over and over again, and then to rob us - ME- of this moment. A moment we will never get back.
But, it is what it is. The day has come and gone. The moment we all looked to has passed. Now, nothing but a circled date on the calendar,a brightly noted box in my day-planner, all the "TO -DO's" left undone.

My beautiful, intelligent daughter, who had every opportunity to be special, chose to be mediocre.

My heart is broken.

ch-ch-ch-changes

So, for those if you wondering "where is that super cool, totally hysterical chick that writes this amazing, Pulitzer prize worthy blog?". I'm here!!! (waves hands).
I had a few, rather irritating, issues arise with the blogger site, and it kept me from A) being able to blog and B) being able to enter my blog site. So during the lockout, I did some investigating AND I started a 30 day Paleo challenge. I decided to marry these two things and I started a wordpress blog . I'm not giving up on the Manic Military wife by any means,so stay tuned for random babbling and shenaniganizing. But for now, you can get you fix of me being a blogger by clicking on the above link:)

see ya soon fellow wackadoos <3