Thankful & Blessed

Our first cool front is moving in now, right behind the rain that is falling. Autumn in Texas, much like winter, is more a state of mind than a significant shift. It's a gradual conversion, and fall to us is when it falls below 80 degrees, and the breeze is no longer hot. If we get any color change on any trees, we count it a bonus. Living in north Texas, I get as much fall as the state offers, and if you select your trees well, you can conjure up some "fall color" and tease yourself into thinking you have a fall season.

I was chatting with my daughter-in-law and my youngest son's girlfriend in August, and we were talking about our favorite season. It was humorous to reveal that each of us picked as our favorite season the one which held our birthday. So, yes, as a Scorpio, my favorite season is fall. To me it represents all the good feels: the coming back home after the vacation months, the settling in to the keeping of the house and the ensuing preparation for company coming for the holidays, the anticipation of family gatherings, and the simple joys of football, slower paced days, shorter days, glorious sunrises, and cool evenings spent on the porch or patio watching the sun go down.

Growing up, fall was a kaleidoscope of togetherness - the annual trek to Denton from Houston to be with family for Thanksgiving, the side stop at the farm, the smorgasbord of food at both houses, the sounds of family laughter, the setting of the one household television constantly broadcasting the football game de jour. It was like Christmas, without the cold (which I hate), and without the presents (which always seem to add stress), and for more days (because we always had Thursday to Sunday for this annual trek.) Yes, Christmas 2.0 definitely. The improved and better version!

And then there was my November birthday! Early years were family parties that morphed into adolescent slumber parties, that morphed into my birthday being somehow recognized whenever we gathered for Thanksgiving. In our house, my brother's birthday was five days after mine, and my dad's birthday was eight days after mine, so growing up we had a trifecta of birthday celebrations, and while theirs both sometimes fell on Thanksgiving, crowning them officially as turkeys, mine never did, and that added to the joy and the fun of it all for me. I never had to share my day, and I could never be called the turkey. Win win.

As I transitioned from high school to college, fall meant the imminence of Thanksgiving break, and the real homecoming - the trek from central Arkansas back to coastal Texas, and bringing with it the relief from roommates, dorm life, professor quirks, unending assignments, and most importantly, cafeteria food. Ahhh...the food of fall! Chili, casseroles, chicken fried steak, fried eggplant, hot water cornbread, pies, cookies. There's nothing better than my mother's cooking. I come from a family of good cooks, and it really spoils you to the savory goodness of family favorites. To me, home cooked meals are quintessential to the adoration of all things fall.

As a young married gal, fall turned into planning a multi-family gathering in Houston which was followed by a marathon shopping day. Yes, we were Black Friday gals. My mom, my sisters, and I started Black Friday shopping when I was in elementary school, heading to the budget basement floor of downtown Foley's, back before malls existed. When Gulfgate Mall opened up, we shifted to that mall, and then we moved around over the 30 years (~ 1970 to 2000) of Houston Black Friday shopping to whichever mall was the newest, or had the best Foley's. When my sisters had toddlers, we would head to Toys 'R Us first, and then move on to Foley's. Walmart and Target folded in there along the way, the newer version of Gemco.

When we moved away from the Houston area in 1997, we were initially able to head back "home" to Houston for family Thanksgiving while we lived in San Antonio. However, in 2000 when we moved south to the border town of McAllen, our Thanksgivings changed and we began the new tradition of having our own Thanksgiving, and welcoming whomever was willing and able to travel to be with us. {Having a husband in retail has its benefits, but also its pitfalls. No traveling on the holidays definitely falls into the latter category. But like with much of life, we adapt, choose joy, and press on.}

By the time we moved to Dallas in the summer of 2005, we were adjusted to our new routine, and began recruiting early for guests to come join us for our fall feast. And with that came the anticipation of the company, and the preparation for their arrival. We love to welcome guests to our home. And part of the whole fun of fall, to me, was in using the golden days of September, October, and November to prepare my home, hearth, and heart for the influx of holiday guests. Since I am a natural planner, and since hubby works so much during the holiday season, we learned to start early, especially as we have aged! We don't move quite as fast as we used to. ;-)

And as some years were spent alone, with the travel rotation of friends and family committed elsewhere, we duly learned to be thankful for the years when we did have company, and we also truly learned to enjoy the quiet years where it was a table set for four. {And having spent one year with a table set for two, I can truly appreciate now setting down four plates.} Every fall seemed to be a shift and like the leaves falling in the wind, a varied and enjoyed moment to take in.

Across the space of time and locales and age, I think the biggest shift I've made regarding fall is to take it from a celebration of the season to become a spirit of awareness, a spirit of gratitude, an acknowledgement of being thankful and blessed. Sometimes I hate the word "blessed". It brings out, in some circles, a sense of smug bragging, as if "I've lived such a good life - see my rewards?" and I hate that. But the "blessed" that resonates within me is the acknowledgement of all the incredibly good things in my life that are pure gifts, because they are completely undeserved. And I try so hard to be so thankful for them, not only in the fall, but year round.

This little layout captures just a snip of what some might call my "attitude of gratitude". These are just some random photos taken by me in the fall of 2014, in the fall that turned out unexpectedly to be our last fall at our beautiful home in Murphy. Me sitting with my dog on my patio on a beautiful October afternoon. My husband working hard to clean the outside of windows as we prepare for company. The beauty of a changing tree in my front yard that I paused to notice when headed out for a walk. The cart full of special groceries on our foodie run to Central Market. Thanksgiving isn't just a day. Thanks giving is a way of life. And I want to recall, this year, this first November without my dad, this Thanksgiving holiday most of all, that I am thankful and blessed. I want to remember. Help me remember. Thankful. And blessed.

I Heart Fall ~ Fall Bliss ~ October 2014

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Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Simple Stories

Title: Simple Stories

A Chef in the Making

I don't know if I should go back to the little boy that was quick to help me in the kitchen, or to the boy that made me a cookie that spelled MOM for my first birthday that I was back at work, or to the boy that was in his element as a food runner and expo at Top Golf, or to the boy that did not want to go to college and did not really enjoy college...These could all be starting points for the current chapter of his life, and I guess they are all touch points.

When Andrew was abroad for his semester in Lithuania, I did a layout about him and on that layout I used the quote:

"We must take adventures to know where we truly belong."

And while I struggle a bit with the expense of sending him to college in Colorado for one year, and then the expense of send him abroad for a semester, I know ultimately it was all part of his journey. I can't really complain. The child told me dozens of time his senior year that he did NOT want to go to college. I believe part of why he finally succumbed to going was the realization that he would get away from us, or at least get away from me. So, he did win in the end, and have his "gap year". And the $25,000 we spent on that "wasted" year and a half was - has to be - viewed as an investment in him. It's only money after all, right? ;-) It does no good to think otherwise....

So when Andrew set off for Colorado Christian University, he was going in as an English major, to become a teacher. And then before the first class began, he had shifted more toward a Sociology major. Or maybe I have this vice versa. {Who can recall?!} Then, during his semester in Lithuania - at least at the beginning of it - he wanted to major in Theology, and post graduation start church plants with his friend Chase. But somewhere along the way during that European semester, he got the bug about cooking, and found an online cooking class. He wanted to take it concurrent with his spring 2016 semester at CCU. And then it shifted to him wanting to only take the cooking class, and not enroll at CCU at all. And we debated and pleaded with the boy across the ocean to at least please just ENROLL for the spring 2016 semester, and then we could talk about it when he was back stateside mid-December 2015. We didn't win that contest. We haven't really won a contest with this kid for a few years now. Stubborn he is.

Now, you may recall that hubby and I had moved from our big home to a little apartment on July 28, 2015. So, said child coming home to live with us was really quite a factor, as there was very limited living space....And the second apartment bedroom we planned to use as storage soon became a bedroom that was going to need to be lived in. Andrew disregarded our advice and listened to his own heart and did come home indeed in December 2015, and did indeed take a "gap year". He did not move out until March 11, 2017. We had him at home for fifteen months and despite the apartment life, we really enjoyed having him around. And while he has long been a handful, I have missed him every day since he left. And I've only got the one photo of him in his new life, which hurts just as bad, and in a completely different way.

But, while he was home, he was busy making good use of his time: learning the trade, building his resume, pocketing his paychecks. Through a Walt Disney World photography club connection, I garnered the name and number of a chef at a local farm to table restaurant. That chef hired Andrew  in January 2016 to work in the kitchen, cooking on the line. Andrew worked at that restaurant until Christmas Eve. For several months during his Whiskey Cake stint, he would work the morning shift at a sister restaurant Ida Claire. He'd leave there at 3:30, after arriving there at 8 AM, and clock in at Whiskey Cake at 4:00 PM, working until close, finishing up around midnight. Then he'd get up again and do it the next day. He worked hard. He respected his coworkers and they respected him. 

After doing all he could do at Ida Claire and Whiskey Cake, he hopped over to another sister restaurant to work in their bakery and gain some different experience. It was amusing to hear him tell tales of his workdays all year long, and the change at the twelve month mark was good for him - he found out "for free" that he didn't want to pursue a bakery/pastry direction at culinary school. He said it was all too slow of a pace, and too repetitive. Working at the fast pace of the kitchen line had shaped him into someone enjoying the pressure of managing the tickets' meal prep.

The boy has always had an incredible work ethic and a strong moral compass. I was amazed at his energy level when he worked at Top Golf - always bounding out of the house, ready to go to work. At Whiskey Cake, Ida Claire, and The Ranch he was the same way, even though his work days were many times in excess of 12 hours, and he was on his feet that entire time, working non-stop, without breaks, water, food. I watched him "feed" his passion during his gap year, and I watched his passion feeding him, in the literal and physical sense of course!

We were trying to diet when he was home and it was so incredibly hard! That boy was always finding a restaurant for us to try, or wanting to go try a new dish at one of his faves. We frequently caved because we knew our time home with him was limited, and that upon completion of his culinary degree and his entering this industry full-time as a career that his time off will be minimal, and our odds of being home together for the holidays slim to none. But, ponderings aside, if he wasn't working and we weren't eating out, we might be found watching the Netflix series, "The Chef's Table"  while playing a game of Catan. The industry as a whole is fascinating, and I soaked in all of this information, using it as my primer to morph into "mom of a chef". ;-)

And during this gap year, while we were crammed in an apartment, building a house, having a son living at home, I watched not only the episodes of a chef in the making on the Netflix series, but I watched it happen to my boy. The longer he worked the line, the more he found himself refining his skills, defining his tastes, discovering his dreams. Around December 2016 he decided he was finally ready to formally apply to The Culinary Institute of America. He had the experience, he had the credentials, he had the recommendations, and above and beyond all of that, he had the refined and honed desire. The dream was still in his heart.

He was of course quickly accepted and elected for a March 27, 2017 start date. {New groups start every 3 weeks, if you can believe that!} My boy had made the cut and was headed to "the Harvard of cooking schools". The countdown began. My mom heart got heavy. We ramped up our Catan games, knowing they would all too soon end. We shopped for some things. We got the financing in place. And on March 11, he and hubby headed out to Nashville to spend some time with our oldest son, and then from there Andrew would continue on to upstate New York for dorm check-in on March 26.

The picture below on the left is him the night before they were to head north in March. He was all smiles - so happy to finally be going, to be heading to his new beginning. I appreciated the irony of him wearing a Colorado shirt - a perfect farewell tribute to his old path - with the cheek to cheek smile a fitting accessory for his new adventure. And on the right, the one photo I have of him since March 27: his first day of class, clean shaven, in chef jacket and toque, for some reason serious as all get out, ready to head into the class kitchen. Right in front of my eyes, a chef in the making. I know he's doing well. I know he's showing up every day and giving it his all. I know he is making the cut.  

Making the Cut ~ Beginning Culinary School ~ March 2017

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: My Minds Eye

Title Font: Pacifico, Times New Roman

Grace Wins Every Time

At the age of forty-eight, in October of 2012, I started this mental challenge with myself called "Fit by Fifty". Steve and I joined 24 Hour Fitness on October 31, 2012, and we both began working twice a week with personal trainers. At the same time, we were eating Nutrisystem diet foods {which tasted awful}. This focused stretch lasted until about June 2013. I did not have a good relationship with my trainer: she regularly had me crying, and so I decided that leaving for our Florida vacation was as good a time as any to quit. Now, I weigh myself just about every day before showering and I log it. I can tell you my weight on any given day for the last several years, going all the way back to 2006 when I began Jenny Craig {for the first time} after moving to the Dallas area. I'm not obsessed with dieting. But I'm probably obsessed with eating, and being married to a curious and persistent Foodie doesn't help my cause. It's highly unfair because said Foodie walks ALL DAY for his job and self sits all day for hers. The deck is stacked against me. Hence my campaign for Fit by Fifty. 

Well, fifty came and I wasn't "fit" yet, so I changed my internal slogan to "Fit AT Fifty". Still had quite a nice ring to it, yes? I did a bout with HCG drops. And then I enrolled in Jenny Craig again. I started walking at lunch. I tried changing all the variables, looking for that magic answer to getting the scale on the downward slope that would match my aging trajectory. Nothing seemed to work permanently. It's all too painful really to recount in detail, as I have basically dieted my entire adult life. I've done all the food diets over one time span or another: Weight Watchers (three times), First Place, The Grapefruit Diet, Adkins, Jenny Craig (three times), Nutrisystem, Slim4Life, BistroMD, and I've done a couple of plans that involved pills. Remember "Fit and Trim", Sheila?.... Suffice it so say my working slogan is now "Fit IN my Fifties". Ah, the sliding rule of middle-aged sedentary working life, with a genesis of slow metabolic genes....

I'm clinging to that quote "You never really lose until you quit trying" which is attributed to Mike Ditka, or perhaps you prefer "You never fail until you stop trying" which is attributed to Albert Einstein. Either works for me, as in it works to keep me trying, but I still haven't "won", because I cannot fully lose. And I'm not miserable, and I'm not seeking a pity party....I'm just determined in a comfortable way. I'm not willing to live and breathe and die for a fitness regimen, for instance. But I've stopped binge eating ice cream and cookies and chips. I'm exercising, more or less, regularly. I'm embracing salads now. Small, incremental steps. Lots of little steps of progress along the way. I see it as a math equation that can be solved if I work at it long enough. It's a challenge to be sure. And there is nothing more addicting to me than a good challenge.

For what it's worth, I did lose the baby weight from both boys. I was a size 10 for my brother's wedding. I remember that navy dress well. And I was holding baby Andrew on my hip. So, whatever I've got going on is all food addiction related, and not maternity pounds gone awry....And there was one point when my eating got really out of hand, and again, without too many details, I battled depression while living in McAllen and ate my way through the pain, and got up to a size 20. I was at that size, or just below it at an 18, when we moved to Dallas in 2005. Oh, the pictures do not lie, do they?

It was equal parts vanity and health that drove me to Jenny Craig for the first time in early 2006. And that same formula has been corraling my gains and had me fighting for losses ever since. {It is equal parts freedom and humiliation to write this out.} As a companion to my dieting manueuvers, and in pursuit of the health aspect, I have of course had varying attempts and successes with exercise. I was never athletic as a child and when I wanted to pursue junior high volleyball, my father forbid it because of the uniform. Additionally, in the sixth grade I was diagnosed with supraventricular tachycardia and put on heart medication, and developed a mild fear of over-exerting my heart. So, the metabolism of a highly sedentary person began its formation long ago, and I have been, as an adult, working that angle of the equation as well. 

When I revisited Jenny Craig in October 2015, I did simultaneously begin a regular if modest workout: I would walk for 30 minutes each day during lunch. At first I did this begrudgingly, but over time, it became something I really looked forward to. By April 2016, I was walking twice a day: at lunch, and then again in the evenings with Steve. At this point in time, I loved walking. Loved it. I loved how it made me feel. I loved our end of day talks as we made our way through our mapped out path. I could tell it helped me handle my stress, and I could tell also that it was a great way to unwind the days' troubles.

So 2016 rocked along as a pretty good year of victories in the weight loss war. From October 2015 to June 2016, I lost 24 pounds and then I stalled in loss with my Jenny Craig plan around June, and went off of their food plan because it was too expensive to be used as a "maintenance" plan. We did keep up with the walking. Well, by July I had put a few pounds back on. Between June and mid August, I had put 8 of those pounds back on. And in mid August, we saw for the first time in over a year some dear friends of ours from Knoxville, Damon and Lea. Damon and Lea had begun the Fast Metabolism Diet by Haylie Pomroy in February and we could see before our eyes their incredible changes in body composition and in weight loss. After spending the weekend with them, we came home convicted to try this new program that would repair our metabolism.

I will tell you that it has been hard. We have gone off and on Haylie's 28 day cycle plan. We have basically been off of caffeine, wheat, soy, dairy, alcohol, and refined sugar since August 2016. Oh, we have had our "cheats" here and again, but we haven't enjoyed how we have felt afterwards, and we have slowly been falling out of love with things like pizza, Mexican food, hamburgers, Italian food, desserts of all kinds....a whole host of former faves. The tragic downside of this drastic change in eating is that the social avenue of eating out basically dies a slow death. So many restaurants that we loved are out of the rotation for the meager nights we brave eating out. The inability to eat out, or grab a quick bite anywhere, has been the hardest aspect of it all. 

During the course of this new way of eating, I was FaceTiming my friend, Lea, and we were talking about the three phases of eating and cardio and weight training came up. She was talking about how they were running for their cardio and casually mentioned, "You know, if there's ever a 5K at Disney, we'd be up for it," to which I replied, "Well there IS, so are you trash talking me, or serious?" Before the conversation ended, it was rather apparent that I had committed to running a 5K, and she had committed to going to Walt Disney World with us. I think we were both equal parts elated and mystified. ;-) Thankfully, all of my walking combined with my weight loss had equipped me to mentally and physically take the next step. In November 2016, I was actually only one pound higher than my lowest Dallas weight from October 2006.

On August 28, 2016, in the heat of the Texas summer, I set my Apple watch to track my first {pitiful} effort of my running workout, implementing a 5K training plan of timed walk/run intervals that Lea had shared with me. Steve was in this with me. We were all signed up {both couples} for the February run, and the training gauntlet had been thrown down. Steve and I did really well on our training until the time to move in our home on November 10 arrived. The pressure to get settled for the holidays superceded any race training and before we knew it, it was January and I was nowhere near able to run 3.1 miles. 

On January 10, two months after our move-in, Steve and I knew we were up against a wall and we resumed our race training, which was running 3 times a week. Forcing myself to prepare for this finite deadline, and simultaneously confronting the reality of running {in public} with my husband and our two dear friends, was some of the hardest truths and experiences I've ever faced. I could not quit. I had to finish. I had to keep going. I did not want to, though. I did not think I could do it. Here is an excerpt from an email I wrote on January 24:

Last night as I was running I contemplated the verse, "With man nothing is possible, but with God ALL things are possible" and I thought about getting the word possible tattooed on my wrist. No joke. I need the daily moment by moment reminder that Papa is BIG. I did not have a good run. I am feeling very much like a failure at it. I am full of doubt and feeling very foolish for even trying this. I am the oldest, I have the heaviest % of body fat, and I have a heart problem to boot. "WTH was I thinking?" kept running through my mind.

In one last desperate attempt, on January 25 I Googled some 30-day 5K Training Plans and, mustering gumption and grit, on January 29, we increased our 3-4 day a week running regimen to running every day. Every day. Work, eat dinner, change clothes, lace up shoes, run, die on the couch. The 5K was Friday, February 24. I had a finite amount of time, and what seemed like an infinite amount of distance to cover in my running.

I would spend the next twenty days trying, trying, trying to get to where I needed to be. See, I just was unable to run continuously for 3.1 miles. But, what I realized on February 11 was this was a mental hurdle, and not a physical one. Let me share with you another email excerpt from February 13:

Steve and I continue to be PRESSED into the nuttiness of eating FMD (and ALL that entails) and pairing that with the last minute prep for the 5K. I WILL BE HONEST and tell you I DID NOT THINK I WAS GOING TO BE READY. I WILL BE HONEST and tell you that the progress I have made CAN ONLY BE SUPERNATURAL. I alternate the breath prayer of POSSIBLE with IMMEASURABLE AND IMMENSE daily, moment by moment, as I slog through our route. GOD IS SO MAJESTIC AND OMNIPRESENT. WHO ARE WE THAT HE IS MINDFUL OF US?

I praise God for giving me the idea to SEEK OUT a 30 day training plan, and I praise God for also whispering to me to evaluate the elevations that we were running. We were basically running an uphill circle, where the downhill wasn’t long enough to equip me for the uphill, with an accumulated climb that equated to a 74 ft climb over the course of running for 30 minutes. (The Epcot course has a cumulative climb of 42 feet. We ran that looping uphill route that way for the last time on 1/31. On 1/30 we made the adjustment to push ourselves to hit 3.12 miles per night, whether we were walking OR running to begin to transition our bodies for the distance. (Another God whisper.) Papa has guided me relentlessly, helping me to adjust. After 1/31, I felt so FOOLISH and defeated. We took a couple days off, did some weight training, and went back to running on 2/5 - hitting 3.12 miles successfully for the first night. On 2/5 and 2/6, I was able to run nonstop for about 6 or 7 minutes total before needing to stop to walk. On Tuesday 2/7, I stretched that to 8 minutes running before stopping. 

Every night during this time we are adapting our route, trying to even it out, adjusting some each time, thinking where we can turn to hit some flats…? On 2/8 and 2/9 we rest from running. On Friday 2/10, we head out to run and I push myself - God helps me - to run for 16 minutes without stopping to walk. I DOUBLED MY TIME FROM ONE RUN TO THE NEXT. PRAISE GOD!! On Saturday 2/11 we go run and I tell myself I’m going to make it to 20 minutes without stopping. Hit 20. Okay, go for 25. Hit 25. Okay, for for 30. Hit 30. Okay, go for 35. At 35, I know I’m struggling, but I know I have the gas in me to go ahead and finish. On Saturday, 2/11, I RAN A 5K FOR THE FIRST TIME WITHOUT STOPPING ANY. I was filled with joy, elation, disbelief, doubt. MY PREDOMINANT THOUGHTS WERE, “I DID IT!” FOLLOWED IMMEDIATELY BY “CAN I DO IT AGAIN?” 

Well, we ran Sunday 2/12 and yes, yes, praise God I COULD DO IT AGAIN. And my times were a little better and it was incredibly windy at that. I document all of this because in the span of FIVE DAYS I go from being able to run for 6 minutes to being able to run for the whole distance…the time of that varies from 41 to 48. I ran for 48 minutes on Saturday and 41 minutes on Sunday….My paces are improving. My heart rate is getting steadier and stronger…My breathing is getting better. SUPERNATURAL PROGRESS. PRAYERS ANSWERED. I pray that I can continue to get faster and I am not relenting on my training until the race day arrives!! Thank you for your prayers and support. It means so much.  

{There were too many details to try to recount that, so the email sharing was the easiest.} 

I say all of this backstory to say, to quote Walt, "If you can dream it, you can do it," or to quote my scripture, "With man nothing is possible, but with God all things are possible." I feel like if I can run a 5K, anyone can run a 5K. When race day came, we were ready. The race began at 6 AM. We had to be at our corral by 5:30. We had to be on a bus to Epcot by 5 AM. We set our alarms for 4:15 AM. We all quickly got up and got dressed and, thankfully, a bus was there waiting and we walked right on. It was surreal to see so many runners. Over 7,000. We were slotted in corral D. They released 4 times from each corral at 2-minute intervals. We were the first release of our corral, and we began at 6:26 AM and finished 44 minutes later. 

My husband and my friends were so kind to run slowly with me, at my pace that would keep my heartrate at an acceptable level. We started in the parking lot. We ran in the dark. We played frogger around those that were walking already at mile one. Navigating the crowds was the hardest. We entered Epcot at the backstage entrance near the Mexico pavilion, where Donald Duck has his meet and greets. The race went so fast! All of hours and months of training -- for this brief 44 minute run. We tried as best as we could to stay together. There were moments where we were tightly together, and moments where it was just me and Steve, and sometimes I was at the back by myself. I just kept running. I had trained for this! This was the moment! 

The Photo Pass photographers on the sidelines of the race path, in their little green huts for safety and visibility, were proof of that. There was one moment in the breaking dawn when I was clearly by myself as I approached a photographer. It was after mile one, and before mile 2. I know this because towards the end of mile 2 is where I always struggle, until I push through that barrier and get my second win that takes me to mile 3....I know this because the pose I gave the photographer was my moment. That photo of me captures the essence of it all! I was here, I was doing this, I was running in a 5K, I was doing something I never before thought possible!!

I know all of this was a gift to me from God. I know I'm not measured by my body weight, or shape, or size. I know I'm not fenced in by them either. I know my ability to break through that mental barrier on February 11 was my gift, far less tangible than my race medal, but so much more visible in my mind. From August to February, the four of us had a slogan, and on race day we owned it. We crossed the finish line together, holding hands, arms up over our heads. Victory. See, grace wins every time. I'm not done with my "fit in my fifties", but this story, this moment, this race, this medal is a capstone. And every time I doubt my ability to succeed, I tell myself "Anything is possible if you believe," and I recall a sparkly crown, a blue tutu, Epcot in the breaking dawn, 7,000 runners, my husband and friends cheering me on, and I remember grace wins every time.

Anything is Possible if You Believe ~ Epcot Royal Family 5K ~ February 2017

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Echo Park

Title: Silhouette file

Adventure is Out There

We weren't sure where we were headed when we left the house. Thank goodness for Siri. I mean, Springfield, Missouri isn't everyone's dream destination. ;-) We had some college friends that were from Joplin, Missouri, but I safely say that before June 2011 I really hadn't felt the Show Me state had lived up to its name. We visited St. Louis and the arch in 1997 for a very brief, and now very blurred, drive-through trip, and other than perhaps driving through it as a child with my parents, I had never been to Missouri.

But, you see, back in 2010 I stumbled onto the sweet scrapbooking nectar of the sketch a la Scrapbook Generation, and it wasn't long before I was one of their avid fans. I drooled over every Allison Davis layout long before I knew what Hall of Fame was, and the clean linear style displayed in their sketches and in their work was one to which I always and immediately gravitated. Once I put two and two together and found out that I could use their design work to play with on my own, I was hooked and set about to budget for and snag all of their sketchbooks. I will tell you from that moment to now, I can count on probably one hand the number of layouts I have created that does not use one of their sketches. When they went to electronic sketch downloads in 2013, I was truly in heaven, since I just might have a reputation for my affair with instant gratification. 

So way back in 2010, Scrapbook Generation sent out an email to its customer base, announcing Scrapapalooza. Scrapapa - whata? A crop. A mega crop. A crop with 350 women. A crop with 350 women and an onsite store. A crop with 350 women, on onsite store, classes being taught by Allison Davis, and oh yeah, don't forget the chocolate fountain. Hey, they had me at CROP. Everything else after that was just fruit for that fountain! My incredible and amazing husband did not think I was zany for wanting to go, and in fact agreed to take me. The boys were providentially out of town with a church event, and so plans were made!

The crop was registered for, the hotel was booked, the bags were packed, and the course was set. We would head up Friday night after work, I would crop on Saturday, while Steve would explore the metropolis of Springfield, and then we would head home Sunday. And oh my goodness, you would have thought I was a kid headed to the North Pole in December!

I couldn't believe I was going to get to go to meet the people that had revolutionized and re-energized my scrapbooking, and I would also get to learn from them, and scrapbook under their watchful eye. I can still remember this trip so well. We grabbed a quick dinner Friday evening at Culver's in McKinney before heading due north, and then we were bound for Missouri. Show Me state or bust. What a terrible ride through Oklahoma! Bad roads, small towns, speed zones, traffic lights, 18-wheelers. No matter. We were focused on the destination, not the journey itself. 

Some trips are that way -- where it's all about where you are going to end up, versus how exactly you get there. I'm okay with that. Not every trip is a scenic drive though the Natchez Trace. We were together, and we were headed toward fun. Well, at least I was anyway. ;-) Steve was really just a tag-a-long on this trip more so than any other time, and we were both okay with that. We just truly like being together in any fashion. Always have, always will.

We arrived in Springfield safe and sound. Saturday morning found me bright and early toward the back of the line, waiting for the big doors to open up and admit us to 12 hours of cropping heaven. Steve helped me unload at the curb in that early blinding summer morning sun. It was hot already, I do recall. Even that was okay. It was a wonderful day, all that I hoped for. The Show Me state delivered! I came away from the day with some pages done, but more importantly, I learned some things that day, and even better, I made some new friends. I might even have snagged a few more sketchbooks and paper packs. A road trip just doesn't get any better than that. 

Sure, we stayed at a cheesy little hotel, ate a lot of chain restaurant food, drove more miles than is normal in a weekend, but it was an adventure, to be sure. I love my guy. I love our spirit of adventure. And I'm game for any road trip anytime. If it includes scrapbooking, that's all the better. But usually most of them just include making memories. And that's okay, too. It gives me something to scrap about later. 

We love that Disney/Pixar movie Up. Love the cute characters, the love story, the silly little boy, the crotchedy old man, but mostly we love the message. Adventure is out there! Yes, yes it is! And I aim to keep finding it, one road trip at a time.
  

Road Trip ~ Headed to Scrapapalooza ~ June 2011

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation 

Paper: Bo Bunny

Cork: My Favorite Things

Title: Silhouette Cut File

Happy Birthday, Mom!

The absolute best part about moving and now having a 30 minute commute, instead of my former 10-12 minute commute, is that I have my daily momma time again. For the 7 years that I drove across town to west Dallas, I would spend that hour driving on the phone with my mom. And when I left that job and started my wonderful job that is 3 miles from our house in Murphy, I sorely missed those long chatty drives I took with my mom. Now, serendipitously, I get back just enough chat time to hear all the good stuff. And since my older sister retired, I am banking on keeping all of the days for me instead of splitting them with her, as we did last school year. ;-) We will see Monday when that east Texas school bell rings how my retired librarian sister manages her phone time with mom. I'm thinking early bird gets the worm. Ha.

One never knows the stories you will hear when one talks to my mom. On the last three phone conversations I have had with her {Thursday morning, Thursday evening, and Friday morning} I have heard the same story about her big decision on whether or not to get a perm now, or wait until October. It's cute, because the story stays identical almost in each iteration, and I chuckle inwardly at her quandary over the long lasting durability of her perm, and timing it just right for our next Girls Weekend, which is in December. In Florida. {Yes!! But, that is another story for another day.} See, mom is trying to time her perm so that it will be "just right" for our next Girls Weekend together. I always tease everyone that my own hair issues have deep roots. They stem from my mom being a beautician before she was a mom, and all of us girls having hair situations regularly while growing up. But I cannot fault her for deliberating over timing. Durned if I don't still do it myself, even with my short carefree and easy cut.

Today's phone conversation started with me wishing my mom HAPPY BIRTHDAY. She rejected my wish, stating matter of factly, "Well, today is the day I was born, but it's not my birthday." See, about 10 years ago, mother needed a copy of her birth certificate for some legal matter, and in the procurement of that, my dear sweet mom, youngest baby girl of nine children, discovered that she was in fact born on August twenty-FIRST. For over 50 years, she had celebrated her birthday on August twenty-SECOND. And she decided on that day of discovery that she was keeping her celebration day on the 22nd, and just let that 21st day remain on the ignored list. I have teased her most years since then on the 21st. But this morning's response was by far one of the best ones I've ever received. I told her, "Well, mom, just how many people can say that?!" We both had a good laugh. 

{And mom, I am writing this ON the 21st and setting it to post just after midnight today, which will be on the 22nd, so that you will get the email ON the 22nd. So, I am saying Happy Birthday on your birthday, and you will get it on your birthday. And I know you will think about all of that for a little bit.} ;-)

And mom, even though I gave you your gift earlier, I meant to send you a card, but I, in my full fledged 50-year-old mind could not remember to do it, still being in the swirl of getting Andrew off....But maybe this will make up for it. This is a poem I found by Debbie Burrous and it makes me think of you, and it makes my eyes leak a little, too.

A Poem For Mom

You are the sunlight in my day,
You are the moon I see far away.
You are the tree I lean upon,
You are the one that makes troubles be gone.
You are the one who taught me life,
How not to fight, and what is right.
You are the words inside my song,
You are my love, my life, my mom.
You are the one who cares for me,
You are the eyes that help me see.
You are the one who knows me best,
When it's time to have fun and time to rest.
You are the one who has helped me to dream,
You hear my heart and you hear my screams.
Afraid of life but looking for love,
I'm blessed for God sent you from above.
You are my friend, my heart, and my soul
You are the greatest friend I know.
You are the words inside my song,
You are my love, my life, my Mom.

I love you more every day, and I am so excited to celebrate your 78th year, in my 50th year to be in existence on your birthday. I can't wait to hear about your day and I'll even be happy to hear the perm story again. But even beyond that, I am looking forward to our big trip together in December, while remembering fondly our weekend together in April. 

I am blessed by you, and the gift of my sisters. It is wonderful to be in the presence of beautiful souls, and it is phenomenal to know that you are all my family, my friends. I love every day spent with you, and like weekends, there are never enough of them to satisfy me. I love you! Happy Birthday, Mom!

Beautiful Souls ~ Girls Weekend ~ April 26, 2015

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Echo Park

Title Fonts: Lavenderia

There's Never a Wish Better Than This

I don't actually expect to live to one hundred. I don't know that I would want to. But the question as to the number of years I have in total is out there, and at the 50 year mark, I know I have spent more than what I have left. I always think about that point in the movie, The Bucket List, where Morgan Freeman's character talks about being part of the 1% of the population that wants to know when they die, and then when faced with the truth realizes he was wrong. He, like the vast majority of the others, actually does not want to know. 

I'm not trying to be morbid. Not at all. I accept my age, and all that it entails, and honestly what I am focused on now is making sure I have as much life in my days as I can possibly have. I think about working, not working, about how working is such a *waste* of time....And I think about how I could spend my time if I had more of it, and I think about what is the best use of my time, and I think about what I want to be sure and do while I can, and finally, I think about remembering the years that I have already had. Of savoring the days past, and the days to come, and the one that I have today.

I have always loved compare and contrast/then and now layouts. I didn't know to do them really until Stacy Julian introduced me to the concept at Creating Keepsakes University in Houston in 2006. But, since then I enjoy creating one whenever I get the chance. When my July CREATE assignment rolled in, and included a layout with journaling inspired by a song, I immediately thought of Five for Fighting's "You Only Got a Hundred Years", and I knew it would be a then to now layout, and I decided to actually make it about me. It's hard to scrap about me, partially because there are few photos, and partially because while I don't mind parading my family around, I am fairly private as an individual. ;-) Oxymoron? Yes, please. 

The lyrics of this song are ones I never tire of reading.

"100 Years" 

I'm 15 for a moment

Caught in between 10 and 20

And I'm just dreaming

Counting the ways to where you are

I'm 22 for a moment

And she feels better than ever

And we're on fire

Making our way back from Mars

15 there's still time for you

Time to buy and time to lose

15, there's never a wish better than this

When you only got a hundred years to live

I'm 33 for a moment

Still the man, but you see I'm a "they"

A kid on the way, babe.

A family on my mind

I'm 45 for a moment

The sea is high

And I'm heading into a crisis

Chasing the years of my life

15 there's still time for you

Time to buy and time to lose yourself

Within a morning star

15 I'm all right with you

15, there's never a wish better than this

When you only got a hundred years to live

Half time goes by

Suddenly you’re wise

Another blink of an eye

67 is gone

The sun is getting high

We're moving on...

I'm 99 for a moment

And dying for just another moment

And I'm just dreaming

Counting the ways to where you are

15 there's still time for you

22 I feel her too

33 you’re on your way

Every day's a new day...

15 there's still time for you

Time to buy and time to choose

Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this

When you only got a hundred years to live

And I know not all of the lyrics apply precisely to me. They are, after all, sung by a man. But the concept in the song lyrics strikes such a chord, and the idea of going from 15 to 100, spanning through the years of your life, is so rich to me that I love to revel in the thoughts, and in the years, and to dissect a moment of my life here and there. When I began the layout, I wasn't entirely sure what I would find when I mined the data of my photos. 15, 22, 33, 45. Random integers. Numbers in a string. Ages of my life. Stages of me. 

{I would be remiss here if I didn't insert, in full transparency, a little of my battle with weight gain. I have been on the losing, or winning, end of the diet battle my entire adult life.} So when I say I didn't know what I would find, I literally didn't know what I would find. I was particularly pleased to discover that these numbers represented some of my "lean" years. ;-) I also worked within the {few} pictures I had of me at these ages to select photos to represent the different roles I have had: daughter (15), wife (22), mom (33), and working scrapbooker (45). I loved pulling together this snapshot of segments of my life. Ages on a page. Numbers in a row. Parts of me as I have been.

I have been blessed, no doubt at all, with a "good ride" so far. I can't see ahead. I can only take in this day, make a few plans for the near future, and remember my stories of the past. I do plan to eek out all of life that I can, all that God gives to me. I do hope to get another few decades out. I'd like to need to do a companion layout to this one. Do you think I can? Will I still be scrapbooking in 30 years? I am not certain of what is ahead. But, I know as long as I can, I will be savoring my days, and striving to tell some of the stories therein.

There's never a wish better than this....when you only got a hundred years to live.

You Only Got a Hundred Years to Live ~ Snapshots of Me ~ July 2015

This layout was featured in the July issue of Create by Scrapbook Generation which can be seen here on their website. 

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation 

Paper: Authentique, Pebbles

Title Font: American Typewriter, Mahogany Script