That time we were stranded in Nowhere

pearl_gplus_image“I think we have a flat,” I say, noticing a change in the tone of wheels on pavement.

It’s mid summer, but Mike has flipped off the AC for more power. We have the windows down for the drive up White Bird Hill.

“Yup, hang on,” he says. We pull over.

I’ve never changed a tire, but could write a manual; I’ve seen Mike change so many on our own, worn vehicles.

Not on this car, though. This isn’t our ‘74 Suburban, with the odometer stuck at 190,000 miles and a hole rusted in the floorboards, nor is it the faded pickup we’d driven home from college the year we started dating. This is a red, sporty thing. We are cruising stylishly to my high school reunion.

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If I go missing one day, someone talk to the dog

not_forgiven copyThe whole weekend was a blast except for the part where the dog tried to kill me.

The fact that she may have it in for me didn’t occur to me until much later. At the time, her little dodge seemed an ill-timed but otherwise routine attempt at a squirrel. This time, however, we were about a mile into a run. I was going at a pretty good clip and didn’t even see her dart in front of me.

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Aging like a mother

From far enough away, and wearing googles, we look much younger.
From this far away, and wearing googles, we actually look really young.

Last week at the dinner table, our eleven year-old referred to his dad and me as ‘middle aged,’ which brought me up short.

“We are seriously NOT middle aged.” I said, working up a huff. This isn’t the eighties and I am not Bonnie Franklin (who was, incidentally, younger on One Day at a Time than I am now. That and the fact I now can’t get that song out of my head is probably going to bug me all day).

Colin pointed out that we’re indeed halfway to the ripe, old age of 90, which in his estimation is ‘middle.’

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I’m actually not allowed ice cream any more

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThis week I’m preparing two presentations for which I just realized I have no qualifications. One’s on effective use of Powerpoint, the other is on social media for service organizations.

I get a lot of requests for my so-called expertise. I don’t ever say no, so it’s probably my fault it keeps happening (A note to my clients: … I mean in my volunteer life. I am totally credentialed for my day job – with a certificate that didn’t come from a Cracker Jack box).

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A Public Service Announcement for dorks

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My toes at a Vegas pool. Photo courtesy of my awesome friend, Sally.

I really thought I’d be able to get a video of my cute skin doctor, Steve, saying “use sunscreen, you dumb dorks,” but he wouldn’t agree to saying something that straightforward, even when I told him it was for the children.

And there’s some restriction that has to do with HIPAA or something, so I couldn’t take any kind of video of him and his assistant in his office this morning.

You’re not going to get to see how cute he is. Sorry.

In November, 2012, I had a huge basal-cell carcinoma removed from the left side of my nose via a procedure called Mohs.

Don’t worry, the doctor told me, no one has ever lost a day of her life from this type of cancer. So I blithely went about my routine, scheduled a family trip to Guatemala, as well as a presentation in front of a couple hundred people, and another half marathon.

Okay, the doctor said, maybe you should worry a little more than that.

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No you don’t actually resemble a Manatee

Maybe you can outrun a manatee, but how about your preschooler?
Maybe you can outrun a manatee. Can you outrun your preschooler?

Today is the day people all over the region will vie for a spot in what’s billed as the toughest half marathon in the Northwest. Because I have weird issues about absurd challenges, this particular half marathon was also my very first. If I get in this year, it will have been my ninth consecutive Race to Robie Creek.

Since that first race, I’ve run eighteen events of half marathon length or more, but I only seriously got back into running about three years ago, when I realized it took far less effort to pop out the door for a quick 5K than it did to convince the kids that they should peel themselves away from the Xbox long enough to come with me to the Y for my spin class.

Because I know I’m not the only one who looks at entry into the Race to Robie Creek as a good motivation to amp up a lackluster running regimen, I have a few tips for people who don’t want to suck at running:

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I really shouldn’t be allowed out at all

dancersThe Muzzy Braun show was sold out by the time we arrived on Saturday, which is how we ended up at a belly dance performance instead.

The last time our friend Sally was in town, I recommended a contemporary theater play that that turned out to be too avant-garde for anyone else’s taste. This time I didn’t make suggestions.

I was all about going with the flow.

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We’re not all that tight with St. Val

running_croppedMore often than not, Valentine’s Day passes without much fanfare around here. We’re not big ones for the holiday.

The cheap cards with “fun sized” candy will have gone off to school in someone’s backpack (after I spend too much time contemplating what could be “fun” about a packet of candy the size of a Barbie purse). When that same kid comes home, I’ll hit him up for his collection of little conversation hearts, because he’s good at sharing, and prefers chocolate anyway.

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Getting my money’s worth from my OB-GYN

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A little nip before dropping Sue off at rehab

I’m not a nervous talker, just a talker. I thought you would have guessed that by now, but maybe you’re new here. Have a seat. I’d fix you a cocktail, but I’m on a roll. So just help yourself.

I have this friend Jen, who once felt the need to call attention to my talking problem.

This was about eight years ago, after I’d quit my job to be a full time consultant and have a little more flexibility for the kids.

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A Manic Mom’s Book Year

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA2013: the year the boys stopped letting me read to them. Well, it was probably time.

Silly how I would still be reading to kids aged 11 and 14, right? Thing is, it gave me insight on what they were reading, let me foist my favorite authors on their little ears, and gave me an excuse to explore stuff I should have read by now anyway.

There are benefits to reading aloud daily for a decade and a half, including the fact that I now have a decent radio voice, and can read from a script without sounding like a robot …something one must learn to do in order to accept awards gracefully.

Ahem.

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