Well, this video is the first concrete evidence of a successful Black Friday. I took a little video footage of my girls on my new Nikon Coolpix s230, which I price matched at Wal-mart and got for $88 ($199.00 value). When Tim got home, we laughed our heads off at our dancing queens, and so I decided to turn it into a family classic.
Click here to find a site with the video.
I also posted a short video of McKenna during church.
Click here to see McKenna reading the hymn book.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Fourth Day
Apparently Black Friday is equivalent to a 4th day of the 3 day walk because my feet are killing me. I'm staying home all day today to recover from shopping all day yesterday in flip flops on just 3 hours of sleep. Yikes.
Friday, November 27, 2009
It's a Black Friday Miracle
Newspapers used to be really expensive. A poor person in early America would have spent nearly a week's salary to get his hands on a copy of a weekly newspaper.
Then in 1833, Benjamin Day decided to stop charging the reader and start charging the advertisers for the cost to create and distribute the news. The Penny Press was born. The Newsies -- those cute singing and dancing New York juveniles -- had a job, and the common man had a newspaper. We still use this system.
But apparently not on Thanksgiving.
On my way home from dinner last night, I stopped at the market to buy a $.50 newspaper -- today's penny, of course. I had two quarters and a few dimes. But the machine read in big letters: Thanksgiving Day Paper now costs $1,75.
Are you kidding me? I felt like a jaded colonist.
After I sulked for a few minutes, I decided to buy the Deseret News instead of the Daily Herald because there was no rude sign, and it seemed to cost only $.75.
Oh, not so much, my friends. I put in my money and the door didn't open. I was ticked. I put my hand in the money return slot and noticed, and there was a dine inside. It must have slipped through, I thought. I reinserted the dime and tried again. It was a no go. No Newspaper. I was ticked again. I pushed the button to get my money back, and guess what happen?
About $1.75 flew out of the machine.
I used the money to buy the Daily Herald and get my ads for Black Friday. Wahoo!
It was a Black Friday Miracle.
The Miracle ended when I walked into Wal-mart and wanted to kill myself. There were 20 register lines that ran the length of a football field. The deals were gone. The people were crazy.
Melissa and I both wanted the same camera. There was only one. She waited in line while I searched the store for one for me, and I finally just went shopping at other stores while she waited to pay.
After two hours in line, we got our goods and headed for home. On a whim we stopped at another Wal-mart, which was empty ... but had one camera left.
Another Black Friday miracle!
I rolled into my driveway at exactly 8 a.m. as I had promised Tim I would do so he could go to work. Miracles everywhere!
Black Friday Results:
Nikon Cool Pics S230 (Regular price $130 to $199) -- I paid $88!
Tent and tunnel for Quinn, Bed Bath and Beyond -- $18
Piggy Bank, Bed Bath and Beyond -- $4
Gift for mom -- $4
Mega Bloks set of 100 -- $9
Small Crock pot -- $4
mini cuisieart -- $4
4 red cups -- $1
Puffy coat for me -- $7
Snow boots for Tim -- $7
It's all a Thanksgiving Miracle!!
Then in 1833, Benjamin Day decided to stop charging the reader and start charging the advertisers for the cost to create and distribute the news. The Penny Press was born. The Newsies -- those cute singing and dancing New York juveniles -- had a job, and the common man had a newspaper. We still use this system.
But apparently not on Thanksgiving.
On my way home from dinner last night, I stopped at the market to buy a $.50 newspaper -- today's penny, of course. I had two quarters and a few dimes. But the machine read in big letters: Thanksgiving Day Paper now costs $1,75.
Are you kidding me? I felt like a jaded colonist.
After I sulked for a few minutes, I decided to buy the Deseret News instead of the Daily Herald because there was no rude sign, and it seemed to cost only $.75.
Oh, not so much, my friends. I put in my money and the door didn't open. I was ticked. I put my hand in the money return slot and noticed, and there was a dine inside. It must have slipped through, I thought. I reinserted the dime and tried again. It was a no go. No Newspaper. I was ticked again. I pushed the button to get my money back, and guess what happen?
About $1.75 flew out of the machine.
I used the money to buy the Daily Herald and get my ads for Black Friday. Wahoo!
It was a Black Friday Miracle.
The Miracle ended when I walked into Wal-mart and wanted to kill myself. There were 20 register lines that ran the length of a football field. The deals were gone. The people were crazy.
Melissa and I both wanted the same camera. There was only one. She waited in line while I searched the store for one for me, and I finally just went shopping at other stores while she waited to pay.
After two hours in line, we got our goods and headed for home. On a whim we stopped at another Wal-mart, which was empty ... but had one camera left.
Another Black Friday miracle!
I rolled into my driveway at exactly 8 a.m. as I had promised Tim I would do so he could go to work. Miracles everywhere!
Black Friday Results:
Nikon Cool Pics S230 (Regular price $130 to $199) -- I paid $88!
Tent and tunnel for Quinn, Bed Bath and Beyond -- $18
Piggy Bank, Bed Bath and Beyond -- $4
Gift for mom -- $4
Mega Bloks set of 100 -- $9
Small Crock pot -- $4
mini cuisieart -- $4
4 red cups -- $1
Puffy coat for me -- $7
Snow boots for Tim -- $7
It's all a Thanksgiving Miracle!!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
More 3 Day Thoughts
By Sunday morning, everything was getting me all weeping. We walked through a path that was lined with young women for about 100 yards. I was so tired and so grateful for their support. They cheered and yelled and high-fived.
I loved a cheer squad from a ghetto Hispanic middle school. So great.
I loved seeing my dad along the route and him being so confused how I could possible be ahead of my teammates with feet like that.
I loved looking for Nurse Pam at each pit stop and seeing her light up when I complimented her and told the people around me how great she is. I loved hearing her say that she was going to get me through this walk. All 60 miles.
I loved asking Tobi and Kari if they are getting mammograms and getting them to talk about things that might save their lives – physically and emotionally.
I loved hearing a few people tell me they don’t want children, thinking about what they said and then feeling renewed times a hundred in my faith that I am an eternal mother who wants to bare a baker’s dozen.
I loved the watching Kate’s favorite survivor. She was a younger women with a license plate tied to her backpack that said "survivor" in license plate language. She had tattoos on her arms and her husbands and friends beside her. Her hair had just grown out from last year’s chemo.
I loved reading a note that Kari wrote to her mother on the “in memory of” tent inside the remembrance exhibit in camp. I bawled, of course, I wrote a note to my neighbor Susan who died this summer, and I thanked her for being an amazing example and for an important piece of advise she once gave me.
I loved spending time with my Aunt Sally and her telling me how proud she is of me, and me genuinely feeling the same about her.
I loved laughing with my cousin Kate.
I loved that Sarah never complained ever and then said, “I have to go to the medical tent.” WHAT? What a trooper? I am not one to hold things in, but I appreciate the effort is takes to lift others when you are in pain.
During the last 2 miles I met Casey, a 25-year-old girl who lives with her parents in the bay area and came to San Diego to walk alone. She and I were so tired. We walked very slowly together, and she let me hold on to her as we went up and down dozens of curbs in the last mile. I might not have made it to the finish (on my feet) without her.
I loved Helen, the little woman we met at opening ceremonies and adopted into out team!! She walked a lot with Sally, and I loved the moment I walked up and saw them sitting on a bench on the side of the course at the beach sipping on drinks and eating olives and crackers with meat that a supporter was handing out. They looked like royalty.
I loved walking up and seeing Tobi cutting a big whole in her shoe to give her big toe some room. Later I cut the toes off of a pair of socks and wore them with my flip flops to keep the bandages on. I apologized to my dad, “I know we have a family rule: No socks and sandals.” Someone else told me it was OK to break those kinds of rules during extreme sports.
I loved the old man and old women dressed up like Dolly Parton and a cowboy driving the country music-themed sweep van. And I loved the 80’s van with a woman dressed as 80’s Madonna with her gloved hand dancing out the window.
Of course I wasn’t just walking for me and my ego or to have fun. I really believe that the hard work and effort of individuals is what creates change in the world. I hate breast cancer. I hate that it takes women off of the earth before they are ready to go, and I especially hate it when it takes young moms. I am a young mom; don’t mess with me, cancer. And it goes without saying that I hate breast cancer when it kills my young neighbor and my best friend's mom and tries to kill my mom and aunt. Seriously, don’t mess with me cancer. Because of this event I have a stronger sense of my ability to work toward change for the causes and issues that matter to me.
I loved a cheer squad from a ghetto Hispanic middle school. So great.
I loved seeing my dad along the route and him being so confused how I could possible be ahead of my teammates with feet like that.
I loved looking for Nurse Pam at each pit stop and seeing her light up when I complimented her and told the people around me how great she is. I loved hearing her say that she was going to get me through this walk. All 60 miles.
I loved asking Tobi and Kari if they are getting mammograms and getting them to talk about things that might save their lives – physically and emotionally.
I loved hearing a few people tell me they don’t want children, thinking about what they said and then feeling renewed times a hundred in my faith that I am an eternal mother who wants to bare a baker’s dozen.
I loved the watching Kate’s favorite survivor. She was a younger women with a license plate tied to her backpack that said "survivor" in license plate language. She had tattoos on her arms and her husbands and friends beside her. Her hair had just grown out from last year’s chemo.
I loved reading a note that Kari wrote to her mother on the “in memory of” tent inside the remembrance exhibit in camp. I bawled, of course, I wrote a note to my neighbor Susan who died this summer, and I thanked her for being an amazing example and for an important piece of advise she once gave me.
I loved spending time with my Aunt Sally and her telling me how proud she is of me, and me genuinely feeling the same about her.
I loved laughing with my cousin Kate.
I loved that Sarah never complained ever and then said, “I have to go to the medical tent.” WHAT? What a trooper? I am not one to hold things in, but I appreciate the effort is takes to lift others when you are in pain.
During the last 2 miles I met Casey, a 25-year-old girl who lives with her parents in the bay area and came to San Diego to walk alone. She and I were so tired. We walked very slowly together, and she let me hold on to her as we went up and down dozens of curbs in the last mile. I might not have made it to the finish (on my feet) without her.
I loved Helen, the little woman we met at opening ceremonies and adopted into out team!! She walked a lot with Sally, and I loved the moment I walked up and saw them sitting on a bench on the side of the course at the beach sipping on drinks and eating olives and crackers with meat that a supporter was handing out. They looked like royalty.
I loved walking up and seeing Tobi cutting a big whole in her shoe to give her big toe some room. Later I cut the toes off of a pair of socks and wore them with my flip flops to keep the bandages on. I apologized to my dad, “I know we have a family rule: No socks and sandals.” Someone else told me it was OK to break those kinds of rules during extreme sports.
I loved the old man and old women dressed up like Dolly Parton and a cowboy driving the country music-themed sweep van. And I loved the 80’s van with a woman dressed as 80’s Madonna with her gloved hand dancing out the window.
I loved the amazing number of supporters that come out to cheer for the walkers at this event. There is a guy in 80’s pants with yellow happy faces on them. He is the "smile guy," and he stands on various parts of the course all day long. His 7-year-old daughter draws designs on people’s hands as they go by, and the Smile Guy gives out buttons and yells happy words into a old electronic megaphone that has a few music effects. He pushes the classic “Da, da, da, da, da, da CHARGE” button, and after everyone yells charge, he says, “You are officially charged up. Let’s go, Ladies.” Miles of Smiles.
There were cheer squads and lots of people giving out candy and stickers. There is this group of older women who dress up as hookers. Their van says, “Hookers for Hooters.” It is not funny at first, but they keep coming back, and I LOVED them. The best was the third day, on Sunday, they were not dressed as hookers, but instead were in their PJ’s because even Hookers get Sundays off after long Saturday nights. There was another group of 3 Hispanic women wearing those beach coverups that have a skinny lady in a bikini that is supposed to look like your body. They danced and dance and shook their butts, and it never got hold for me. I loved them. People handed out cheese, chips, red vines, life savers, candy, bling, stamps, beet, tequila, Jell-o shots, water, juice, hot dogs.
One man lined up with 4 pug dogs on his front step, and people would stop and have their picture taken with the row of dogs. One man sprayed his dogs hair pink. I LOVED IT. It reminded me of Quinn and her pink poodle and made me think of my girls and how badly I want them to live healthy lives. I also ran into Elmo and Cookie monster on the course. Cried, or course.
One of my favorite signs read, “My cups runneth Over.” The breast lines never ended:
- I am simple the Breast
- Boobs, they are close to my hearth.
- The Hello Kitty Titty Committee
- I am pumped to cure Cancer (Breast Pump)
- A t-shirt with a list of the walker’s sponsors listed by bra cup size
- Lots of save the ta-tas
- Lots of Save Second Base
- Lots of I love Boobies
- Pink is my color. Or I wear Pink for … (Mom, friend, Aunt…)
- Blisters don’t need chemo
Of course I wasn’t just walking for me and my ego or to have fun. I really believe that the hard work and effort of individuals is what creates change in the world. I hate breast cancer. I hate that it takes women off of the earth before they are ready to go, and I especially hate it when it takes young moms. I am a young mom; don’t mess with me, cancer. And it goes without saying that I hate breast cancer when it kills my young neighbor and my best friend's mom and tries to kill my mom and aunt. Seriously, don’t mess with me cancer. Because of this event I have a stronger sense of my ability to work toward change for the causes and issues that matter to me.
My Thank You Letter to Reef
I have a lot of people to thank for helping me complete the Breast Cancer 3 Day, but I started with this letter to the Reef Company. I'm hoping it will open the door to a donation for next year.
Dear Reef.com,
I have a Reef success story to share with you. First, let me just say that I have horrible feet. They are long and wide, and I have a crazy and unnaturally high instep. I haven't really worn a comfortable shoe since I was 5, but Reefs have always been my saving grace. I have been wearing the same classic style Reefs (Sandy and Smoothy) for about 15 years.
This past August I started training to participate in a Breast Cancer 3 Day event where I was to walk 60 miles in 3 days. I raised the required $2,300 for Breast Cancer research and awareness, and I trained like crazy -- with 2 children in toe -- for several months.
But by mile 5 of the event in November, I started to get blisters. By mile 20, I had full blown "footsters" -- you know -- part foot, part blisters -- and I had only one choice: Go home or put on my Reefs and get moving. I went for it, and I walked the next 40 miles in my classic, black Smoothy Reef flip flops. My Reefs not only got me through the event, but they were a main prop in yet another life experience that taught me the value of never giving up and the joy that comes from hard things.
I wanted to thank you for creating such a reliable and comfortable product, and I encourage you to continue to produce and distribute your traditional sandal styles in addition to your newer, hip foot fashions. There are no sandal like the Smoothy and the Sandy. I hope these style will always be available.
I, of course, intent to walk again next year. What would I do without my Reefs.
Thanks for your time and Thanks for saving my feet,
Jill Fellow
Loyal Customer
Women's Size 10
Dear Reef.com,
I have a Reef success story to share with you. First, let me just say that I have horrible feet. They are long and wide, and I have a crazy and unnaturally high instep. I haven't really worn a comfortable shoe since I was 5, but Reefs have always been my saving grace. I have been wearing the same classic style Reefs (Sandy and Smoothy) for about 15 years.
This past August I started training to participate in a Breast Cancer 3 Day event where I was to walk 60 miles in 3 days. I raised the required $2,300 for Breast Cancer research and awareness, and I trained like crazy -- with 2 children in toe -- for several months.
But by mile 5 of the event in November, I started to get blisters. By mile 20, I had full blown "footsters" -- you know -- part foot, part blisters -- and I had only one choice: Go home or put on my Reefs and get moving. I went for it, and I walked the next 40 miles in my classic, black Smoothy Reef flip flops. My Reefs not only got me through the event, but they were a main prop in yet another life experience that taught me the value of never giving up and the joy that comes from hard things.
I wanted to thank you for creating such a reliable and comfortable product, and I encourage you to continue to produce and distribute your traditional sandal styles in addition to your newer, hip foot fashions. There are no sandal like the Smoothy and the Sandy. I hope these style will always be available.
I, of course, intent to walk again next year. What would I do without my Reefs.
Thanks for your time and Thanks for saving my feet,
Jill Fellow
Loyal Customer
Women's Size 10
The 3 Day Metaphor for Life
On dozens of occasions during my 60 miles of walking this weekend, I was overcome with the metaphor before me. The event really felt like a metaphor for life as I was constantly reminded that life is about being involved with things and people that matter and overcoming all kinds of obstacles. There were constant reminders of the importance of working together, supporting others, being selfless, and truly believing that anything is possible ... even eliminating a disease. It all sounds cliche, but how many up us really believe all that, know all that and live with all that right in front of our faces?
I had so many moments when the pain was unbearable and when the thought crept in that I might not be able to do this. But the human spirit is strong. I wanted to to do it. I wanted to keep walking, and sure enough, I always found a way to make it happen. In life we have moments where we want to quit or give up or when we just feel that things might never get better or we will never be good enough. Now most of the time it gets better with time, and that space of time from the lowest point to the highest has enough distance that it is hard to remember the extremes of the feelings. As a mother, we normally don't have the worst day and the best moments of motherhood in one day. By the time we get to an amazing day, the bad is far enough in the past that we can not really remember it at all.What is cool about the 3 day is that you hit rock bottom and reach sky high all within a couple of hours, and it makes the miracle of overcoming a challenge feel very real and very alive.
I promised to offer the footster -- half foot, half blister -- details, so here it goes: I started feeling some rubbing on the inside of my foot on .... wait for it ... of yes ... mile 5. I had 55 miles ahead of me, and I was already cutting mole skin on the side of the road. By mile 10 I was at the medic tent, and by mile 16, I was making intimate friends with the people handing out second skin blister covers and foot tape. A nurse named Pam tape me up better than anyone else and sent me off to finish 4 more miles and day 1. Without her I would have been toast. I was in a ton of pain, but I was walking. The blisters were spreading everywhere, and I started to feel the muscles behind my left knee ache because I was walking funny to compensate for my feet. Dear me. But I just kept walking. Then -- at dark -- I walked the world's slowest mile and crossed the finish line for day 1.
The next morning the blisters were big and getting bigger and trying to knock me out. I headed to the medical tent and got my blisters popped and tapes, but the pain was so bad after this that I could barely walk to the breakfast tent. I sent my team to the course to start walking and told them I would find a way. So I walked through the self help medic area calling out, "Pam, Pam, nurse Pam." I found my Pam. She worked at light speed to get my feet cushioned and ready to roll. She had secret supplies that no one else had. She rocked! I had to run from Pam to the starting line because if you don't start by a certain time, they basically don't let you participate. I scanned my credentials, which officially starts you in the day's walk, and then I sneaked back into camp to fix the problem. At that point -- hiding behind a motor home and an out house -- I only had one choice: my flip flops. I figured I could either give up now or I could walk in my flip flops until it was unbearable ... then quit. So, I slipped on my trusty Reefs and started off. It felt great to be moving again. My prayers -- the literal ones I said outside as a ditched the course to change my shoes -- had been answered. I felt back in control. And I felt really happy. I felt really strong. I walked faster than I realized and actually caught up with my team. My feet were a mess, but the blisters were to doing OK. (And I was dancing with a cute San Jose bike cop to 'Single Ladies' while waiting for the bathroom.) I figured new problems would catch up to me since flip flops are really not so much intended for use in extreme sporting events. But again it was either walk or sit down, and I didn't leave my babies at home to sit down.
Day 2 turned out to be my favorite of all the days. I was toward the back of the crowd walking with all sorts of people and lots of other gimps. The last mile felt long again, but it was worth it. I had reached the lows and highs of my spirit in just one day. I can accomplish great things. And by this small weekend, I was reminded that I am great. As it says in the Book of Mormon, "by small and simple things are great things come to pass." At the end of Day 2 I could not bend my left big toe, but I was happy and laughing at dinner. My bath hurt so badly that I laughed out loud for 10 minutes until my cousin Kate knocked to see it I was stuck in the tub. I laughed harder and then went to bed.
On Day 3 I found nurse Pam, got all taped up, added some horrible looking toeless socks to the flip flops and kept walking. I literally just kept walking. I took no breaks until there was only 2 miles left because I knew if I stopped, I might not start again. And, remember, not finishing was just not an option for me.
I always say that I like hard things. I'm no liar. I loved the challenge before me. I finally stopped for lunch with my parents with about 2 miles left in the event. And then I walked like a snail for 2 more miles holding on to a stranger named Casey in order to get up and down each curb. We didn't stay strangers for very long.
So after 40 miles, I crossed the finish line in my Reefs and barely made it to the car. I was still laughing.
When life is hard, it tests who we are and how we deal. It tests our faith in God and in self and in others. It reminds up what we are capable of. I like hard thing. My favorite and dearest teacher used to say, "Stay away from people who take obstacles away from you." He and I had similar values. He understood.
So as funny as the sweep vans that bus the tired people back to camp were with their themes, costumes and music, I did not let them drive me up the hills or home. I went to California to walk, and that I did.
On day 2 Cousin Carrie asked me if I were going to try to wear my shoes on day 3, I told her I was not going to try to wear shoes until February. No Change.
I had so many moments when the pain was unbearable and when the thought crept in that I might not be able to do this. But the human spirit is strong. I wanted to to do it. I wanted to keep walking, and sure enough, I always found a way to make it happen. In life we have moments where we want to quit or give up or when we just feel that things might never get better or we will never be good enough. Now most of the time it gets better with time, and that space of time from the lowest point to the highest has enough distance that it is hard to remember the extremes of the feelings. As a mother, we normally don't have the worst day and the best moments of motherhood in one day. By the time we get to an amazing day, the bad is far enough in the past that we can not really remember it at all.What is cool about the 3 day is that you hit rock bottom and reach sky high all within a couple of hours, and it makes the miracle of overcoming a challenge feel very real and very alive.
I promised to offer the footster -- half foot, half blister -- details, so here it goes: I started feeling some rubbing on the inside of my foot on .... wait for it ... of yes ... mile 5. I had 55 miles ahead of me, and I was already cutting mole skin on the side of the road. By mile 10 I was at the medic tent, and by mile 16, I was making intimate friends with the people handing out second skin blister covers and foot tape. A nurse named Pam tape me up better than anyone else and sent me off to finish 4 more miles and day 1. Without her I would have been toast. I was in a ton of pain, but I was walking. The blisters were spreading everywhere, and I started to feel the muscles behind my left knee ache because I was walking funny to compensate for my feet. Dear me. But I just kept walking. Then -- at dark -- I walked the world's slowest mile and crossed the finish line for day 1.
The next morning the blisters were big and getting bigger and trying to knock me out. I headed to the medical tent and got my blisters popped and tapes, but the pain was so bad after this that I could barely walk to the breakfast tent. I sent my team to the course to start walking and told them I would find a way. So I walked through the self help medic area calling out, "Pam, Pam, nurse Pam." I found my Pam. She worked at light speed to get my feet cushioned and ready to roll. She had secret supplies that no one else had. She rocked! I had to run from Pam to the starting line because if you don't start by a certain time, they basically don't let you participate. I scanned my credentials, which officially starts you in the day's walk, and then I sneaked back into camp to fix the problem. At that point -- hiding behind a motor home and an out house -- I only had one choice: my flip flops. I figured I could either give up now or I could walk in my flip flops until it was unbearable ... then quit. So, I slipped on my trusty Reefs and started off. It felt great to be moving again. My prayers -- the literal ones I said outside as a ditched the course to change my shoes -- had been answered. I felt back in control. And I felt really happy. I felt really strong. I walked faster than I realized and actually caught up with my team. My feet were a mess, but the blisters were to doing OK. (And I was dancing with a cute San Jose bike cop to 'Single Ladies' while waiting for the bathroom.) I figured new problems would catch up to me since flip flops are really not so much intended for use in extreme sporting events. But again it was either walk or sit down, and I didn't leave my babies at home to sit down.
Day 2 turned out to be my favorite of all the days. I was toward the back of the crowd walking with all sorts of people and lots of other gimps. The last mile felt long again, but it was worth it. I had reached the lows and highs of my spirit in just one day. I can accomplish great things. And by this small weekend, I was reminded that I am great. As it says in the Book of Mormon, "by small and simple things are great things come to pass." At the end of Day 2 I could not bend my left big toe, but I was happy and laughing at dinner. My bath hurt so badly that I laughed out loud for 10 minutes until my cousin Kate knocked to see it I was stuck in the tub. I laughed harder and then went to bed.
On Day 3 I found nurse Pam, got all taped up, added some horrible looking toeless socks to the flip flops and kept walking. I literally just kept walking. I took no breaks until there was only 2 miles left because I knew if I stopped, I might not start again. And, remember, not finishing was just not an option for me.
I always say that I like hard things. I'm no liar. I loved the challenge before me. I finally stopped for lunch with my parents with about 2 miles left in the event. And then I walked like a snail for 2 more miles holding on to a stranger named Casey in order to get up and down each curb. We didn't stay strangers for very long.
So after 40 miles, I crossed the finish line in my Reefs and barely made it to the car. I was still laughing.
When life is hard, it tests who we are and how we deal. It tests our faith in God and in self and in others. It reminds up what we are capable of. I like hard thing. My favorite and dearest teacher used to say, "Stay away from people who take obstacles away from you." He and I had similar values. He understood.
So as funny as the sweep vans that bus the tired people back to camp were with their themes, costumes and music, I did not let them drive me up the hills or home. I went to California to walk, and that I did.
On day 2 Cousin Carrie asked me if I were going to try to wear my shoes on day 3, I told her I was not going to try to wear shoes until February. No Change.
Links to the 3 day
I have been searching the Internet for people's thoughts and pictures about the Breast Cancer 3-day this weekend. Here is what I found:
A beautiful photo collection
Someone's Day One -- Elmo, the breast man, clowning around ...
Someone's Day Two -- More great and classic pics of the San Diego 3 day 2009
News Coverage Day 1
News Coverage Day 2
News Coverage Day 3
A beautiful photo collection
Someone's Day One -- Elmo, the breast man, clowning around ...
Someone's Day Two -- More great and classic pics of the San Diego 3 day 2009
News Coverage Day 1
News Coverage Day 2
News Coverage Day 3
Monday, November 23, 2009
My Cups Runneth Over!
I am home from the Breast Cancer 3-day Walk and feeling great. I had an incredible time, and I promise to post all about it ... after I just sit here for ... well, a long time.
I just wanted to Thank all of my supporters -- bother financial and emotional. I raised over $2,300 for breast cancer research because of you, and because of hundreds of people like you, the San Diego walk this weekend raised $9.2 million. (There are 12 other walks each year!)
The sights and sensations of this weekend blew me away and made me more great for my health, my family and my passionate and very capable spirit. I feel strong and fulfilled by this experience. And my feet hurt worse than you could ever imagine.
I ended up walking 40 of the 60 miles in my Reef flip flops. It's a long and beautiful story and one that was captured by plenty of pictures of my bloody, footsters -- half foot, half blister.
More to come.
This is a picture of me on mile 58 of the weekend being greeted by my mom, the most important Breast Cancer survivor in the world. I don't look to pretty, but she sure does. What a babe!
I just wanted to Thank all of my supporters -- bother financial and emotional. I raised over $2,300 for breast cancer research because of you, and because of hundreds of people like you, the San Diego walk this weekend raised $9.2 million. (There are 12 other walks each year!)
The sights and sensations of this weekend blew me away and made me more great for my health, my family and my passionate and very capable spirit. I feel strong and fulfilled by this experience. And my feet hurt worse than you could ever imagine.
I ended up walking 40 of the 60 miles in my Reef flip flops. It's a long and beautiful story and one that was captured by plenty of pictures of my bloody, footsters -- half foot, half blister.
More to come.
This is a picture of me on mile 58 of the weekend being greeted by my mom, the most important Breast Cancer survivor in the world. I don't look to pretty, but she sure does. What a babe!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Little Kitchen on the Prairie
I have been posting a lot of recipes lately. They are for you, yes, but they are mostly for me.
Anyway, I didn't want to get stuck only blogging recipes on this blog, so I created a recipe blog for myself.
You are welcome to check it out, but I must admit, as I have said before, I cook with a lot of dirt. And taste is not the only goal. I like to get all prairie style, grind my own wheat, cook with weird stuff and all that jazz.
visit my recipes at: bandrecipes.blogspot.com
Anyway, I didn't want to get stuck only blogging recipes on this blog, so I created a recipe blog for myself.
You are welcome to check it out, but I must admit, as I have said before, I cook with a lot of dirt. And taste is not the only goal. I like to get all prairie style, grind my own wheat, cook with weird stuff and all that jazz.
visit my recipes at: bandrecipes.blogspot.com
For the love of Ma
This afternoon Quinn and I were watching Little House on the Prairie. In the episode, Caroline's Ma sends a telegram to let them know she and Pa are coming to Walnut Grove to see them. But when the train arrives, it turns out Caroline's ma died on the way. When they arrive home with Caroline's pa and her ma's body, Caroline cries as she hugs the coffin and says, "Oh, Ma. Oh, Ma."
Quinn turned to me with a sad face and said, "She needs her mommy."
I said, "Yes, she does. And you need your mommy. Come give me a hug, little lady."
Quinn thought about it and said, "No, I no need my mommy. I need a drink. Get me more chocolate milk."
Quinn turned to me with a sad face and said, "She needs her mommy."
I said, "Yes, she does. And you need your mommy. Come give me a hug, little lady."
Quinn thought about it and said, "No, I no need my mommy. I need a drink. Get me more chocolate milk."
Saturday, November 14, 2009
On the Mend
Thanks for all the nice calls and notes while we were sick. We are all feeling much better. I think the flu is finally behind us. And on that note, I am behind in everything else. Graduate school applications, training walks, laundry and work have all piled up.
But really I am so grateful to be healthy. It is taking me some time to get back in the swing of things.
But, again, thanks to so many of you how offered to help while we were sick.
And my warning to everyone.
Either get the vaccine or have tamiflu on tap.
If you are into more alternative methods, using a netipot regularly before, during and after the symptoms can help. Lizza said she has a set of essential oils that help too, so look that up if you need to.
But really I am so grateful to be healthy. It is taking me some time to get back in the swing of things.
But, again, thanks to so many of you how offered to help while we were sick.
And my warning to everyone.
Either get the vaccine or have tamiflu on tap.
If you are into more alternative methods, using a netipot regularly before, during and after the symptoms can help. Lizza said she has a set of essential oils that help too, so look that up if you need to.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Panties at Pre-School
Fitting that this week at school Quinn is learning about the letter P. Today is her first day wearing panties at pre-school. I'm worried. I really want her to succeed. I know it doesn't mater, but I still want her to win.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Quinn and Mommy ... and the flu
Yes, it is actually McKenna and Mommy who have the flu, but this post is about Quinn and Mommy and the flu.
There is something about being sick that is really good for me. It slows me down. It makes life simpler. It actually makes me happier. Is that crazy?
And it always brings Quinn and I closer together. We become the best of friends, and the real Quinn and the real mommy reunite.
I had noticed since Quinn started school and I went back to work, she wasn't talking as much. She didn't seem to want to do anything with me. We never read. We never learned new letters or did any of the other fun stuff she liked to do before. It make me sad, but I just chalked it up to a new stage or a new Quinn.
But after this last week of me staying home from school, the old Quinn is back, and she is 3 months smarter. We are having so much fun together. This morning we just cuddled in my bed talking and laughing. She is talking about letters and songs and books again. She started using the potty again. She started talking, playing with new things, listening to my opinions and getting along. It is amazing, and it is very eyeopening.
Just today in the car on the way to the nanny's house, she told to go the other way (toward home) so she could get her things. We had forgotten her doggy and paci at home. She didn't flip out. We just talking about it, and we agreed that she would be fine without her things, but it would be better if we stopped at a store to get a paci. No fussing. No crying. Just talking and hugs and kisses.
So that is it: My Quinn needs more attention and more love. And the best part is I think I would really enjoying giving her more attention and more love. The feeling is mutual.
I forget that being a working mama does come with a cost.
Quinn hasn't been changing. I have.
There is something about being sick that is really good for me. It slows me down. It makes life simpler. It actually makes me happier. Is that crazy?
And it always brings Quinn and I closer together. We become the best of friends, and the real Quinn and the real mommy reunite.
I had noticed since Quinn started school and I went back to work, she wasn't talking as much. She didn't seem to want to do anything with me. We never read. We never learned new letters or did any of the other fun stuff she liked to do before. It make me sad, but I just chalked it up to a new stage or a new Quinn.
But after this last week of me staying home from school, the old Quinn is back, and she is 3 months smarter. We are having so much fun together. This morning we just cuddled in my bed talking and laughing. She is talking about letters and songs and books again. She started using the potty again. She started talking, playing with new things, listening to my opinions and getting along. It is amazing, and it is very eyeopening.
Just today in the car on the way to the nanny's house, she told to go the other way (toward home) so she could get her things. We had forgotten her doggy and paci at home. She didn't flip out. We just talking about it, and we agreed that she would be fine without her things, but it would be better if we stopped at a store to get a paci. No fussing. No crying. Just talking and hugs and kisses.
So that is it: My Quinn needs more attention and more love. And the best part is I think I would really enjoying giving her more attention and more love. The feeling is mutual.
I forget that being a working mama does come with a cost.
Quinn hasn't been changing. I have.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Potty Training: Day 4...?
You'll probably remember that last May right when I should have been sitting on my but doing nothing, I took on the challenge to get Quinny potty trained. I used a 3-day method that was really wonderful. We had two major set backs, though. Quinn is not one to wake up dry, one, and she she got real pissed after McKenna was born ans stopped using the potty for pee-pee all together, two. A few months later she stopped using it for poop. A few months after that we switched from Pull-ups all the way back to diapers.
Well, I have the swine flu right now. I feel like crap, and so does McKenna. I thought we were better yesterday, but I woke up feeling as bad as ever. I was not sure how I could get through the day. Next thing I knew Quinn was cuddled up next to me, and together we were watching NBC's series "Trauma."
Um, after the third severed limb, I had to admit this is not an appropriate show for my 2 year old to be watching. I had to think of something that was all about Quinn so I could be motivated to not be the world's worst mom. I just needed something small. But here comes my sister and my favorite line, "Why under do what you can over do?"
Just then Quinn got a wedgie with her diaper and her dance clothes, so I turned to her and said, "Diapers are yucky. Let's throw them away and wear panties."
Quinn said "Ok," and off we went. After about 3 minutes, she flipped out and wanted diapers. She started screaming at me. But the whole thing was working out well because I had just enough energy to be excited for her if she succeeded but not enough energy to care if she failed. Then she started hitting me. She really hit hard, but I was too tired to care.
And then I decided to just roll with it and bribe her with a sucker. She loves suckers. She knows how to pee, so this was just a motivation thing to get the routine down again. And again, I was too tired to care that I might be screwing her up with gifts of sugar.
The day went great. She had some accidents, but that sucker was a magical motivator. Tonight she has run the bathroom and gone without my help at all like 4 times. She gets on the big potty, does her business, wipes, and moves on with the day. Most of the time she forgets about the sucker which she is allowed to hold and lick for 3 minutes every time she goes pee.
Anyway, sometimes when under-doing something is not an option, it is sometimes fun to over do it.
I'm so proud of my little angel. And it is just like I felt when I was ready to pop out McKenna the first time we potty trained; I love the closeness and bonding it takes to watch her and teach her. We baked all day. We read. We played. We laughed. We got along.
The pee-pee saved this horrible day.
And it really is surprising how many loads of wash a sick mom can get done in one day when she has to.
Well, I have the swine flu right now. I feel like crap, and so does McKenna. I thought we were better yesterday, but I woke up feeling as bad as ever. I was not sure how I could get through the day. Next thing I knew Quinn was cuddled up next to me, and together we were watching NBC's series "Trauma."
Um, after the third severed limb, I had to admit this is not an appropriate show for my 2 year old to be watching. I had to think of something that was all about Quinn so I could be motivated to not be the world's worst mom. I just needed something small. But here comes my sister and my favorite line, "Why under do what you can over do?"
Just then Quinn got a wedgie with her diaper and her dance clothes, so I turned to her and said, "Diapers are yucky. Let's throw them away and wear panties."
Quinn said "Ok," and off we went. After about 3 minutes, she flipped out and wanted diapers. She started screaming at me. But the whole thing was working out well because I had just enough energy to be excited for her if she succeeded but not enough energy to care if she failed. Then she started hitting me. She really hit hard, but I was too tired to care.
And then I decided to just roll with it and bribe her with a sucker. She loves suckers. She knows how to pee, so this was just a motivation thing to get the routine down again. And again, I was too tired to care that I might be screwing her up with gifts of sugar.
The day went great. She had some accidents, but that sucker was a magical motivator. Tonight she has run the bathroom and gone without my help at all like 4 times. She gets on the big potty, does her business, wipes, and moves on with the day. Most of the time she forgets about the sucker which she is allowed to hold and lick for 3 minutes every time she goes pee.
Anyway, sometimes when under-doing something is not an option, it is sometimes fun to over do it.
I'm so proud of my little angel. And it is just like I felt when I was ready to pop out McKenna the first time we potty trained; I love the closeness and bonding it takes to watch her and teach her. We baked all day. We read. We played. We laughed. We got along.
The pee-pee saved this horrible day.
And it really is surprising how many loads of wash a sick mom can get done in one day when she has to.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
oink, oink
So, I guess I have not had the flu for years. I was all talk about how everyone should relax about the swine flu and move on with their lives. I figured we'll just all get it and be done with all the Swine flu drama.
No so true.
The flu sucks.
I started with a sore throat, and within a few hours I could barely stand up. I took a day to rest, and then I thought I was fine. So, I went to work and almost died. I'll home again today not going on training walks, not filling out grade school applications and not doing anything. I'm so mad.
But I did take a bath with my baby, who is also sick.
And right now my man is making french toast for dinner with my homemade bread.
I really feel horrible. I can't get up. My head is throbbing. My throat still hurts. I congested.
But were all together.
Still. The swine flu sucks.
I probably should have been waiting in that vaccine line instead of mocking the people in it ...
No so true.
The flu sucks.
I started with a sore throat, and within a few hours I could barely stand up. I took a day to rest, and then I thought I was fine. So, I went to work and almost died. I'll home again today not going on training walks, not filling out grade school applications and not doing anything. I'm so mad.
But I did take a bath with my baby, who is also sick.
And right now my man is making french toast for dinner with my homemade bread.
I really feel horrible. I can't get up. My head is throbbing. My throat still hurts. I congested.
But were all together.
Still. The swine flu sucks.
I probably should have been waiting in that vaccine line instead of mocking the people in it ...
Monday, November 2, 2009
Other people crack me up.
Here is a one line post from my Canadian friend's blog this morning. Love the TV reference.
"Guess who rolled over for the first time today!!!! He went from his back to his front (while trying to get a better view of the tv, but, whatever)
"
LOVE IT!
McKenna does her most twisting and turning to try to see "things," and yes, often that thing is the TV. She hates to be on her tummy, so the only reason she would ever roll over would be a similar accident.
"Guess who rolled over for the first time today!!!! He went from his back to his front (while trying to get a better view of the tv, but, whatever)
"LOVE IT!
McKenna does her most twisting and turning to try to see "things," and yes, often that thing is the TV. She hates to be on her tummy, so the only reason she would ever roll over would be a similar accident.
Lizza's essay about motherhood
Sorry, Lizza, I love to steal gems from your blog. I love this essay so much. I love what it means for everyone, and I love the honesty from this dear, dear friend ... who I promise I will eventually name a baby after. It just has to be the right baby.
Here is Lizza's answer to "What does motherhood mean to you?"
Parenting had an essay contest. This is what I submitted.
Motherhood means wondering “Is this what I really want out of life?” but by then it’s too late. And then it just comes.
Motherhood means never being skinny enough or rich enough or talented enough but so perfectly whole when my baby saves her first smiles for me.
Motherhood means whispering apologies and promises into sleeping child’s ears because I’m too ashamed to admit to her face that I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m so scared she’ll hate me for it.
Motherhood means everyone wants something from me and my emotional bank account is on permanent overdraft.
Motherhood means thinking in the same evening “I can’t wait to get a break from my kids” and “I can’t wait to get home to my kids.”
Motherhood means being jealous of a non-mom’s freedom and crying with a friend because she’s infertile.
Motherhood means letting go when I can’t and holding on when I don’t want to. It is the original paradox.
Motherhood means I resist the urge to call my kid a doofus out loud and resist the urge to punch the kid who called my kid a doofus.
Motherhood means being a shadow.
Motherhood means all the incessant “Mommy, why? Mommy, why?” are instantly forgiven with one, “Mommy, I love you.”
Motherhood means giving exhausted, blank stares to the grandma at the grocery store who says, “Treasure this time; it goes by so fast,” and then checking on my daughter before bed and thinking, “Where was I when you got so big?”
Motherhood means my bad days are worse and my good days are truly glorious and then I don’t wonder anymore if this is what I want out of life.
Here is Lizza's answer to "What does motherhood mean to you?"
Parenting had an essay contest. This is what I submitted.
Motherhood means wondering “Is this what I really want out of life?” but by then it’s too late. And then it just comes.
Motherhood means never being skinny enough or rich enough or talented enough but so perfectly whole when my baby saves her first smiles for me.
Motherhood means whispering apologies and promises into sleeping child’s ears because I’m too ashamed to admit to her face that I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m so scared she’ll hate me for it.
Motherhood means everyone wants something from me and my emotional bank account is on permanent overdraft.
Motherhood means thinking in the same evening “I can’t wait to get a break from my kids” and “I can’t wait to get home to my kids.”
Motherhood means being jealous of a non-mom’s freedom and crying with a friend because she’s infertile.
Motherhood means letting go when I can’t and holding on when I don’t want to. It is the original paradox.
Motherhood means I resist the urge to call my kid a doofus out loud and resist the urge to punch the kid who called my kid a doofus.
Motherhood means being a shadow.
Motherhood means all the incessant “Mommy, why? Mommy, why?” are instantly forgiven with one, “Mommy, I love you.”
Motherhood means giving exhausted, blank stares to the grandma at the grocery store who says, “Treasure this time; it goes by so fast,” and then checking on my daughter before bed and thinking, “Where was I when you got so big?”
Motherhood means my bad days are worse and my good days are truly glorious and then I don’t wonder anymore if this is what I want out of life.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Halloween 2009: The Cheerleader
So, turns out if you don't call it a costume (and after she feels very accepted) Quinn can actually get on board.
About an hour before our friends came over. Quinn told me she didn't want to wear her pants. She wanted shorts. So I took the window and told her that she could not wear shorts because it was too cold, but I did have a new sweater she could wear that comes with a skirt. She seemed fine with that. We put it on, and as long as she got to wear her sandals and not get her hair done, she was on board and even kind of excited about it.
After she was dressed, I showed her pictures of her Grandpa John in his USC cheerleading clothes, and then we looked up pictures of the current USC song squad. She thought it was cool to be matchy, matchy.
My angel McKenna couldn't of cared less about what she was wearing. But here she is in her skeleton outfit.
And here is the gang for Trick or Treating 2009. We had two of Tim's cousins over to our house with their kinds. This was Nico (the Lion's) first Halloween. And it was the first time we had had Jacob and Jeffery over to play. I wore Jacob's pumpkin hat for most of the trick or treating because it kept falling off his head.
Our two favorite houses as always are Marsha and Gretel. Quinn took the boys to Gretel's garden to see her pumpkin patch. Very cool.
After trick or treating with her second cousins and eating candy all night, she watched the Trojans get creamed by Oregon with her Daddy. She never got up to dance around and immitate the songleaders, but she did start imitating the ref. "Time OUT!" she said.
I learned a lot about my daughter this Halloween, and I was reminded that it is her life and NOT mine. I am grateful to have a little one who knows who she is and what she wants. It took me 20 years to gain just half the graceful confidence that she has.
P.S. Another highlight of my Halloween night was running into there two close friends in all their Halloween glory. Love these costumes. Loves these ladies.
Halloween 2009: The Carving
Quinn picked out all the pumpkins. I posted the shots of her at the patch last week. And then she got to pick one out in the garden at school too. So fun.
We carved the pumpkins as our family home evening activity on Thursday. (We work on Mondays.) Tim and Quinn went online and picked out these designs.Then Tim and I cracked those babies open and went for it. We split things up: Tim pulled out and separated every seed for baking. I scraped the insides, and Quinn -- refusing to touch the insides -- played with a pumpkin scraper y peeking though it and saying in a sly voice, "I can see you." She stayed stoic the entire night. This little lady can take things very seriously.
The best part of the night was when I started carving. She got totally on board and started copying me with another pumpkin or on the side of my pumpkin. She stared and focused for HOURS and made only a few indents the entire time. She loved it!
You might be able to see in the pictures we are using tools from the garage to do our carving because we could not from our pumpkin carving kits. However, while I was looking for the bag of pumpkin tools, I found a bag for white paper cups and plates. The nest day when I was pulling out plastic and paperware for Halloween night, I could not find the bag of white stuff .... However, the pumpkin carving bag was sitting right under my freakin' nose. Dear me.Anyway here are our beautiful pumpkins. We are quite proud. We lit then with candles on Halloween Night, and they were still burning in the morning.
Halloween 2009: The Golfer
I worked on things for weeks, but Quinn made it very clear that she does not like costumes. Other people are fine to dress up, but it is not for her. I tried everything. I made it sound so fun. We hung out with friends that love to play dress up. WE took her cousin Calli with us to find the perfect costume, and all I got was:
"No, Mommy. I don't like costumes."
Calli even said: Um ok, Quinn, How bout you think about it for a little bit? ( in the nicest little voice possible.) Nothing worked.
She said she would go as Abby from Sesame Street, but we all knew it would not actually happen. So I gave up, and I allowed her to create her own identity: The girl who does not like costumes and is totally fine with it. I might have fought harder, but I actually owned my own shirt once upon a time that read, "I don't do costumes." So what could I really say on the issue?
But when it take time for her school Halloween Party, but didn't want her to get messed with. I know she would have been fine just telling everyone that she does not like costumes, but I was worried because I'm her mom. So, I convince her to grab her clubs, put on her golf shirt and go as a golfer. Worked great. Here is my little golfer headed to school.
She had me hold her school bag so she could focus on her clubs.
Showing her friends her cool "costume"
Playing the drums during the class party.
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