Choose Life

I know I haven't blogged for almost two months despite promises to the contrary. But sometimes life happens and you find yourself faced with things you'd really rather not deal with, with people who would rather not talk about them. So even though my mind has been overflowing with things I need to write about, I haven't really said a word.

I am lucky enough to have all four of my grandparents still living. Lucky seems like a meager word choice given that I'm 33 years old and they're all at or nearing 90, but suffice it to say I realize I am blessed beyond measure to have both incredible, wonderful memories of my grandparents growing up and the thrill of having them all in my life today. Jackson actually has seven of eight great-grandparents still living, and Chad and I were hardly spring chickens when he arrived, so that's notable.

I have a hard time imagining my life without my grandparents. And I think it's because, no matter what was happening that was important to me, they were always there. Every school play, choir concert, graduation, wedding, Christmas...seriously, they haven't missed one.

No question about it, this situation is rare. I knew this as early as junior high, when many of my friends started attending their grandparents' funerals. And even as a teenager, I often thought to myself, "I wonder if this is the last Christmas/New Year's/fall/fill-in-the-blank I would be able to spend with all my grandparents."

Two decades later, I'm still thinking about those things. What can I say? I'm a planner.

As several of my grandparents went through health issues - colon cancer and heart stints and gallbladder surgery and broken bones and a whole host of other things I don't remember that I probably couldn't legally disclose anyway - one grandparent of mine seemed completely immune: Grandpa Howard.

It's no wonder he's a picture of health. This is the guy who eats cucumbers for dessert. His weight hasn't vacillated five pounds in the 30 years I can remember knowing him. I've never seen him roll out of a buffet, pants unbuttoned, proclaiming in his most boisterous voice, "Now THAT was a good meal!" Grandpa Howard doesn't overdo...well, anything. If you look up "level-headed" in the dictionary, I swear you'll find his picture.

Rumor has it that last year, when Grandpa was diagnosed with bladder cancer, one of his nurses at the Mayo Clinic asked him what medicines he takes on a regular basis. "None," he replied. Ok, she said, trying to kindly jog his memory. How about prescriptions for high blood pressure, cholesterol, diabetes? Nothing. I'm not sure if he's ever even taken Advil.

So there was no question he'd bounce back from bladder cancer. Call it a momentary setback, maybe. A little discomfort, probably. But he'd be good as new in no time. It didn't even faze me. Because Grandpa Howard doesn't get sick.

But a routine check-up earlier this summer found something weird going on in his lungs. They tested again. And again. More appointments. More tests. More consultations. His bladder cancer, which we all thought was gone for good, had spread to his lungs.

Grandpa Howard couldn't be sick. Yet, he is. Very sick. Doctors said the mass in his lungs gave him a life expectancy of 6 months, maybe 12. Chemo might extend this to 18-24 months, but the prognosis just is not good. The cancer is very aggressive.

If faced with this dilemma, I would have weighed the options, given it careful thought, and likely said "sayonara" to life while spending my kids' inheritance on an around-the-world cruise. And no one would have blamed me, just as we wouldn't have blamed him for making peace with this diagnosis and using his final days to reflect on a joy-filled life.

But Grandpa Howard is taking a different path. At the age of 89, despite assurances of countless rotten side effects and no real promises, he's decided to fight this. He starts chemo next week. Maybe that gives him another Christmas, or another harvest, or another birth of a great-grandchild (hope he's not counting on me for that one right now because that ain't happening). Or maybe he just doesn't feel like his days here are done. I don't know, and I haven't asked.

Regardless of the reason behind it, I can't help but feel like there's something so admirable in choosing life when it's hardly the easy option. Even if the chemo proves too much and he needs to stop treatment, which we would all support and understand, he took a stand. He chose life. And that tells me that - clearly - our family patriarch, after decades of nobleness and dignity and a legacy that will live long after any of us are around, still has something to teach us.

Summertime, and the livin' is easy

There are lots of things I hate about the summer. Mosquitos, for one. And humidity. And having melon served at every gathering because it's in season. I hate melon.

But there are lots and lots of things I love even more about summer. Daylight past 8 p.m. Pick-up baseball games and trips to the park and not having to bundle up when you walk outside. Those nasty hot, humid days that end when the wind picks up and a cold front ushers in a quiet, beautiful summer rain.

And porch swings. Ohhh I love porch swings.

I've got lots of summer memories from my life on the farm. In fact, thinking back, most of my childhood memories are from the summer; you wouldn't know it's only three months long. I remember the four of us being sent out in the morning and not going back in until dinnertime. We caught bugs, counted cars, dug lots of holes, built treehouses, and exhausted our imagination. Unbelievably, we seemed to manage all of this without any injuries. Ever.

These days, I don't live on a farm. Not even close to a farm. And that's not going to happen anytime soon, if not ever.

So this year, we brought the farm to me.

Several months ago on my birthday, when we had just made the decision to buy this house, Chad bought me a hammock - or the promise of a hammock - to put in the backyard I had always wanted. Problem was, I only half-wanted a hammock. I could foresee Jackson getting tangled up in it when he was playing and having to mow around it and lying there swatting bugs in it and the idea became less appealing. So I never bought it.

About a month ago, on one of those first few summer nights where Jackson had gone to bed but it was still light out, I came out to our porch. Sitting here decompressing and reading a book, I looked up to soak it all in.

Rungs.

Sure enough, someone who owned this house within its last 60 years must have loved porch swings too, because there were already rungs screwed into the studs. It was almost too easy to decide that I needed a porch swing for my birthday present. But we're talking about me...so of course it wasn't.

I looked and looked and looked - and then Chad looked - for the perfect fit. I finally picked one. And picked the stain. And ordered it. Two weeks later, this beauty was sitting on my front steps (bless you, online shopping).

This little lady is small - as Chad said, "It can only fit two Tolleys" - but, man, it's awesome.

Last Sunday night, we had some friends over for a cookout. The second Jackson went to bed, it started to rain, and we had to move the party inside. Until Chad brilliantly suggested we go out on the porch, so there the four of us sat - protected from the downpour but still enjoying the smell in the air and the cool breeze on our skin - and chatted for three more hours.

Around 11:00, our friends went home. And the rain stopped. And the days got hot again. And we went back to work after the long weekend, and life got more complicated. But the summer has stuck around, seemingly forever. Something tells me that a lot of memories will be made on this porch, and it makes me happy that even though I can't totally replicate my childhood for Jackson, there are some things we can do that might make him look back in 33 years and smile.

I'll be home for Christmas

I've kind of been dreading today. When we found out we were having a December baby, we were quick to determine that Christmas back home would be difficult, if not impossible. If we were even still considering heading home, the decision to have Chad's ACL surgery pre-Christmas was the nail in that proverbial coffin. The idea of not spending Christmas back home made me so sad, but I'm smart enough to realize that a 14-hour drive home with a baby who needs to eat every three hours sounds miserable...and the logistical challenges would have been way too much.

What are we doing on Christmas Day? Instead of our traditional six Christmases (two sets of parents and four sets of grandparents), we're having...one. Just the three of us.

No driving around and around to make every family Christmas. No huge meals. No chaos of kids and piles of presents. No Christmas morning brunch with my grandparents. No Christmas dinner at Chad's grandparents, or stockings at my parents, or chicken noodle soup on Christmas night. No Christmas Eve service at my church to catch up with old friends or driving around looking at Christmas lights. No Christmas memories that I've had for the past 32 years.

Even though life could not be better and I can't even begin to count all my blessings, everything I'm missing out on today is making a tiny little hole in my heart.

This Christmas is different - in both a bittersweet and exhilarating way. Today, the three of us are literally playing things by ear: opening a few gifts and making a scaled-back Christmas dinner. If it's nice, I'll take Lucy on a walk. If I'm tired, maybe I'll nap. If we're looking for things to do, perhaps we'll pop in a Christmas movie.

Regardless, we won't be home for Christmas - or maybe we will be. At some point I suppose, "home" stops being where you're from and starts being where you are. And this year, we are where we're supposed to be - just the three of us, making new memories and starting new traditions.

(But we'll be in Illinois next year!)

Happy birthday to RT!

There are very few people in this world that I can't remember life without. There are my parents, my grandparents, a few childhood friends. And RT.

I'm not being sentimental here; I actually have a relatively good memory. I can remember life without Daniel and Janice, or - as Rachel and I used to refer to it when we wanted to get under their skin - the "good old days." But for better or worse, I sure can't remember life without her.

Rachel knows me better than just about anyone else on the planet, even though we went through a few years in high school where we didn't really like each other at all. We shared a room for more than a decade, until I hoodwinked my parents into believing that I really needed my own room because I was going into junior high, and we've shared many of the same jobs, teachers and friends. Having a sibling that's just 18 months younger means having someone around who can relate to you that you can really give a piece of your mind if she's ticking you off. I call it a win/win situation.

So in honor of RT's 30th birthday, here's a little look back:

Way back when RT didn't have hair (ie: the first two years of her life).
Now she has more hair than anyone else I know.

Blonde hair, big eyes, and bright red lips.
And I'm clearly scheming over how to get that cookie.

On one of our "Monday Fundays" with Grandma.
I wonder if we took home more sand than we left in the box?

If there was any doubt what Rachel would be like as an adult,
this photo from her sixth birthday party pretty much sums it up.

You are what you eat

I went to a wedding shower for Janice yesterday with some of my favorite gals on the planet. The theme was "kitchen" (I gave Janice my favorite chopper from Pampered Chef - an amazing little tool that doubles as a stress-reliever) and the game was all about food. Oh, and the spread in the kitchen was simply to die for. Let's just say we had food on the brain.

Somewhere between opening gifts and guessing whether Nick said Janice preferred chocolate or vanilla, we got to talking about our secret food cravings. "What do you eat when your husband isn't home?" someone asked, and we all took it from there.

A few admitted their love of bologna - a desire I have never shared, even when mom would cut it into sixths and put ketchup on it and try to pawn it off as "pizza". Others talked about melting chocolate chips on Ritz crackers or eating peanut butter straight from the jar. One makes homemade dill dip and just has that with veggies for dinner. Another has perfected s'mores in the microwave.

I mentioned my weakness for those 75-cent Banquet chicken pot pies - and of course I always carve an "E" in the top like mom used to, even though it's not like I have to keep more than one pie straight since no one on this earth will eat them with me.

While all random, we were collectively taken aback by this: a "white trash sandwich" (her words, not mine), which consists of Wonder bread, grape jelly and a slice of cheddar cheese. This friend of mine has been eating them since she was 8, and apparently still sneaks a few in here and there when her husband is working late.

After that, my pot pies sounded perfectly normal.

Full circle

Virginia executed the DC sniper tonight. I followed the whole trial and I knew it was coming, but I still felt this sense of sadness when I heard about it.

The DC sniper incidents began the week I moved here. At the time, I was getting used to a different city and trying to find my way around town, so everything was new. (In fact,when I heard on the news that there was a shooting near an elementary school in Montgomery County, I couldn't figure out why everyone around here was so worked up, thinking that Montgomery County was in Alabama...not a DC suburb.)

During those very surreal few weeks, I do remember - as do a lot of other people - looking around when filling up for gas, rushing a little faster through parking lots, or keeping an eye out for a white van (even though the vehicle didn't turn out to be white...or a van). The worst night was when I played in a softball game and stood outside in a yellow fleece jacket in the middle of center field by the interstate all by myself - I was sure a target was on my back that whole time! On the one hand, I was so nervous I kept bouncing around so I'd be hard to hit -- a great workout. On the other hand, I saw it as a personal sign of defiance that I refused to change my life because of one crazy person.

One night, as the search for the sniper was in full force, we got stopped by a road block of police when going out with friends. And we drove right by one of the final murder locations just hours before it happened on our way back from a weekend away. (Coincidentally, it's the Home Depot we go to all the time now. That incident in particular still haunts me.) Then, as abruptly as it started, the whole thing ended with a relatively calm apprehension in a rest area parking lot.

For all of the victims of this tragedy, who I sympathize with and my heart breaks for, I understand why tonight's execution might bring closure. But I still feel this funny sadness because I really do think that this guy used to be good--I think everyone used to be good at some point in their lives. So I suppose I mourn for the person he used to be or could have been versus the person he chose to be. I wish somehow I could have changed this so that it all could have been avoided in the first place. Does that make any sense?

Thirty-onederful

It's not that I wasn't looking forward to turning 31...it just didn't register. Really. Even yesterday morning when I woke up, I laid in bed for about 10 minutes bemoaning morning before I realized it was my birthday. And even then, I didn't care. That said, the day was busy but did turn out great. If nothing else, birthdays are a refreshing reminder that you're loved.

As I celebrated yesterday ("celebrate" being a strong word, perhaps, for someone who spent 12 hours at work), I thought back to a lot of other fabulous birthday memories. Among my favorites:

2: Dad says October 20, 1980 was the worst day of the whole winter. Of course I don't remember this but he remembers the weather on every birthday I think I've ever had (the other kids, too). I think this is a farmer thing. Just last night on the phone he said the weather the day I was born was a beautiful fall day (I couldn't help but wonder if my arrival kept him out of the fields on a perfect day to harvest).

5: Going to the set of Romper Room and being a kid on the show with my neighbor, Joel. Holy cow was that fun. I thought I'd hit pay-dirt!

6, 7, 8, or one of those...maybe all of them: Waiting sooo patiently for my grandparents (and sometimes my aunts and uncles) to come to my birthday party. Being one of four kids, it wasn't often that I got all the attention, so those were days to savor!

9: So excited about my birthday that mom made me a special breakfast and I got to open my gifts at the kitchen table before school. I remember what I opened, too: pajamas.

10: Walking around school with a dozen stitches in my eyebrow after I'd walked into a door (actually, the door kind of walked into my face) two days before.

13: I got to have a birthday party with friends over (a first, I think) which included a bonfire, weiner roast and a hayrack ride. Lucky for me, it was a beautiful fall evening!

15: Mom was taking night classes and the other kids were at Youth Club (my birthday was on a Wednesday) so dad and I went out, just the two of us, for dinner at the Packinghouse. They've always had a policy where people eat free on their birthdays, so we just had to pay for dad's meal. The unfortunate downside was that I'd just gotten spacers in my teeth to make room for the inevitable braces a few weeks later and they hurt so bad I couldn't even chew.

16: Dad picked me up from school over my lunch hour and drove me to the DMV to get my license. (Thank goodness it wasn't a Monday, when they were closed--that would have been traumatic!) Though three squirrels jumped out in front of the car during my test, I passed. And when I dropped dad back off at home to head back to school with just myself in the car (the independence!), he said to me, "You control your destiny." I actually remember those very words to this day. That night I went driving with my friends Jen and Will. I actually just picked them up for ice cream. I wasn't exactly what you'd call a problem child, except for a few painful years in junior high.

21: As an RA in college, my biweekly night to be "on duty" (ie: manning the dorms, waking up in the middle of the night to let in people who had locked themselves out, making sure no guys were around after curfew) fell the night before Fall Break. It was also my 21st birthday, but I didn't want anyone to cover for me because they were all going home and I had planned to play the cards I was dealt. After going to dinner, I settled into my room for the evening...until about 9:30, when five or six of my RA friends, who were all supposed to be gone, stopped by. One covered for my shift while the others took me out to a bar. I had two mixed drinks and was home before midnight (like I said, total wild child...) but it was honestly the nicest, most thoughtful thing I think anyone has ever done for my birthday.

23: On tour in Houston, one of the final stops on our BH&G tour. I'm pretty sure we were at some place called Molly Malone's (or Molly Maggees? I don't remember) and Monday Night Football was involved. That's about all I remember. Toward the end of our five-month journey, I was so excited to head home that those days were all a huge blur.

29: Celebrated with all of my grandparents (at right). Every year since high school I get a little sentimental on my birthday wondering if they'll all be around when the next one rolls around. So far, I'm still 4 for 4!

30: Perhaps my favorite birthday. Chad surprised me with a trip to a cabin--Rachel and Paul came too--and then the week followed with several get-togethers with friends.

31: Relatively uneventful. Long day at work putting out a new survey, several TV and radio interviews and a media briefing. My friend Robert sent me a cupcake-shaped flower arrangement and mom's whole class called to sing "happy birthday." Our CEO started the monthly all-staff meeting with a birthday shout-out (umm...embarrassing...) and I heard from lots of friends through Facebook and email who remembered. Chad, knowing how tightly I was wound, gave me a gift card for a massage at a place in Old Town that I love, then made dinner while I took Lucy for a walk on a wonderfully crisp fall night. All in all, a perfect day.

Down the road

As I rode a bike down the two-mile stretch of country road to Grandma Cathy's this afternoon on a perfectly wonderful spring day in Illinois, I got to thinking about the particularly memorable times I've made that trip:

• The years when I was old enough to ride a bike by myself but not old enough to drive. Many summer days involved back-and-forths to Grandma's and Grandpa's for milkshakes, lemonade, ice cream, or just conversation.
  
• Whenever I got sick and mom was working I'd head down the road. This included a two-day stretch in college after a brief hospital stint and when I came down with the flu my junior year in high school, stopping at home just long enough to pick up my pillow before showing up so pathetically on her doorstep.
  
• After arguing with my mom at the age of 9 or 10 (I was a strong-willed child), I decided to run away from home. I packed my little suitcase and Mom found me walking down the road halfway between our house and theirs. I'm pretty sure if I had made it all the way there that I would have just been taken home, but they may have fed me first.
• With our entire bridal party on our wedding day (four years ago tomorrow) when we played croquet and took pictures by an old barn and enjoyed a low-key celebration in the midst of wedding-day chaos with some of our favorite people in the world.

Easter traditions

Last year, I blogged about my favorite Easter memories. Afterward, I remember being concerned that there was really no way to tell "my" Easter apart from others. Even from one year to the next, things were different. But this year, I think we've nailed down two Easter traditions:

Grandma Davis's homemade rolls. These incredible rolls are Chad's favorite and, rumor has it, even though he shunned potatoes and breads and rice and pasta as a kid, he could eat and eat Grandma's rolls. Last year for Easter, I surprised him by making these after she was kind enough to send me the recipe. While I'm sure these come second-nature to her, I'm still learning. Anything that involves kneading is not my forte, but they turned out well. (Not as good as hers, but they were a lot better this year than last.)

I have since learned that the rolls are a permanent Easter fixture. When I asked Chad what he wanted for dinner, I think his response was something like, "You mean other than Grandma's rolls?" I'm pretty sure he mentioned them before ham.

Easter baskets. Who says kids should have all the fun? Starting this year, anyone who comes to Easter at my house gets an Easter basket. And they have to hunt for it. I had a great time finding candy and little lip balms and other trinkets for our guests' baskets this year. And in true Grandma Cathy fashion, we used hats instead of baskets. That was my Plan B after I went to four stores and they were all sold out. You wouldn't know we're in a recession from the bare shelves in the Easter section around here.

Words of wisdom

A high school friend recently told me something fabulous: "Never take advice from someone you wouldn't trade places with." Really and truly, how spot-on is that?

So I've been thinking lately about some of the tried-and-true directives I've received over the years. This has been a work-in-progress over the last few weeks, but here's what has come to mind:

On compliments: "If someone says something nice about what you're wearing or how you look or about something you did, don't make excuses. Just say thank you." --mom

On savings: "Always have $1,000 set aside in case something goes wrong." --dad (I was 15 and barely had a comma in my checking account, so this was a real bummer of a realization)

On fashion: "Never wear white pants or white shoes before Memorial Day or after Labor Day." --Aunt Phyll (and I can't forget this one because she reminds us every year)

On portion control: "If you put it on your plate, you eat it." --Grandma Cathy (I spent a lot of time protesting at her kitchen table looking at a half-empty plate after, as she would say, "my eyes were bigger than my stomach")

On coupons: "Never use a coupon on something you weren't going to buy anyway." --mom

On having the right perspective: "Ask yourself, in five years, will this matter?" --Chad

On phone conversations: "No matter who answers the phone, introduce yourself and say hello." --dad (This has benefited me so substantially in my career that I can't even quantify it. Receptionists love me, which often gets me access and opportunities that others don't have.)

On clothes: "Don't feel badly for spending a little more on something that fits better. And get rid of those ugly jeans." --Rachel

On loyalty: "You can be disappointed in people and still love them." --mom

On sports: "Never use the phrase, "They played a good game" if they lost." --Chad (The same also goes for, "There's always next season")

On taking a break: "Sometimes you just need to say, "Stop, World! I want to get off!" --Grandma Marge

On winding down: "One glass of great champagne at 5:00 on Friday afternoon is a perfect start to the weekend you deserve." --Aunt Rita, who asked that I update my post to include this (see comment below) ...and, for the record, I think she's right!

Home, Sweet Home

It's been an usually chaotic few weeks and I realized the other day how desperately I need a vacation. I'm starting to be concerned that I am no longer fun to be around.

Tonight, we booked flights to go home for a family get-together at the end of May and I've decided to stay in Illinois an extra week. My only plan is not to do any work. (This will likely be difficult for me.) Other than that, I'll take life as it comes. Sleep in. Play with my nieces and my cousins. Spend time outdoors. Read a few good books. Visit my grandparents.

While my technical "home" is in Virginia (ie: my house), my real "home" is still where I grew up. It's lots of trees and open spaces. Having someone else cook my favorite meals. Sleeping with the windows open. Smells of dirt and grass and animals. Playing "just one more game" of cards even though it's late. No traffic. It's Life at five miles-an-hour. And I love it!

Even though this little break from reality isn't here yet, just buying the tickets put me in a better mood. Now that have something to look forward to, I will hopefully I'll be a tad more tolerable to my colleagues for the next 57 days. Not that I'm counting.

Smile!

I'm heading to New York just for the day to speak at an analyst conference about consumer trends. Every time I go there, I'm reminded of one of my first trips to the big city. I was 23 or so and had just started working at NRF. I headed to the Big Apple on a media tour with my boss.

During my whole trip, I tried very hard to fit into the New York atmosphere and put my farm girl personality to rest for a few days. (I was even wearing all-black, which is practically the only acceptable wardrobe in that city.)

I thought I was doing such a good job at blending in. That is, until we were walking down the street and my boss, a consummate New Yorker (and an incredibly lovable, but very frank guy), looked at me and said, "Will you please stop smiling at everyone we pass? No one here does that!" Thinking about it still makes me laugh.

Now, whenever I go to New York, I smile at everybody. On purpose. Sure, it makes me stand out, but I have to believe those people are smile-depraved enough that they'll accept one from a person who has plenty of smiles to give.

Besides, I kind of like the idea of someone passing me in Manhattan and immediately thinking, "She's definitely not from these parts." Nope, I'm not. And that's just what I want to be.

Happy birthday to...

...Barbie! Believe it or not, Barbie is 50 years old today. Crazy, right? (PS: Happy birthday to my mom as well, whose birthday was yesterday. And she's not 50.)

In celebration of this special occasion, here are my top three Barbie memories:

1. Desperately wanting a Peaches & Cream Barbie for Christmas at the age of about six, I just couldn't wait to open my gifts. So on Christmas Eve, Rachel and I each tore open a little corner of our Barbie-shaped boxes from Aunt Rita and Uncle Fred juuuust to see if we were on the right track. (They always sent the best Christmas gifts, so if I was going to get this magnificent present, it would be from them.) I was beyond excited to read the letters "P E" on the top corner and had enough patience to fold the wrapping paper back the way it was and wait until the next morning. On Christmas Day, it was the first thing I opened. Imagine my dismay when it wasn't Peaches & Cream Barbie that I received, but Persian Barbie! Boy, was that depressing. I haven't peeked at a gift since.
   
   
2. In future years, Janice cut the hair off all my Barbies (and Rachel's, too). Perhaps she thought they should have the same boy-cut she did. Or maybe she was just mad that they weren't brunettes. Janice was a perplexing child.
   
   
3. In 2001, I traveled across the U.S. for five months to 20 cities on behalf of America's favorite doll. I've mentioned before that it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life--and it was--but keeping that crazy pink carpet clean in the Barbie bedroom and watching kids like a hawk to ensure they (or their parents) weren't stealing my displays was a lesson in futility. Still, Barbie is responsible for a lot of great memories and even a few good friends. I can't be too bitter.
   

30 random things

There's something going around on Facebook (a social networking site that I belong to) where you're supposed to list 25 random things about yourself. I hesitated to do this for several weeks until my brother did it and, well...then I felt compelled to join in.

Here were my 25 random things:

1. The most spontaneous thing I have ever done was quit my first job to travel on an event marketing tour for five months. It was the best experience of my life.
2. I moved to DC for two years. Seven years later, I’m still here.
3. I am so fortunate that all of my grandparents are living. I wish I saw them more often.
4. It scares me that I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life.
5. I have kept an Excel spreadsheet of our household expenses for the last seven years. Yes, I can tell you how much we spent on gas in 2002 vs. 2006.
6. I would be happy living in the middle of nowhere.
7. If I wasn’t in PR, I would write children’s books.
8. Somehow in the last year, I have accidentally become a dog person.
9. I would rather be interviewed live on television than speak in front of 50 co-workers.
10. I have learned to appreciate good wine, good cheese, and a good pair of running shoes.
11. I wrote my first story in the third grade. (I still have it.)
12. My uncle tried to convince my now-husband to ask me to his prom. He didn’t. Six years later, we started dating.
13. I appreciate good vegetables and fruit more than good meat. I could be a vegetarian and be perfectly happy. [Side note: I think this is because I was so spoiled with good meat as a kid that I really can't appreciate what I get now.]
14. I would rather have a big yard than a big house.
15. My first memory is of going to the dentist with my sister. I was three years old.
16. I don’t ask God for things. I just ask Him to help me figure life out.
17. I am not a morning person but I go to the gym at 5:30 a.m. four days a week.
18. I worry that I will not be able to raise my kids as well as my parents raised us.
19. We eat dinner really late at our house. As in, 9 p.m. most nights.
20. When a long relationship ended after college, I made a specific list of what I was looking for in my next guy. And I married him.
21. The only people who read my blog religiously are my dad and Chad’s grandma.
22. If both of my sisters didn’t live in DC, I would be more open-minded about moving.
23. I was a “surprise” baby.
24. I have never broken a bone, but I did get twenty stitches in my eyebrow two days before my tenth birthday.
25. I spent the summer after high school working at our local newspaper, writing up engagement and wedding announcements, among other things. Therefore, I can type faster than anyone I know.

Believe it or not, most of the comments I received were about #21, from people who said that they, too, read my blog. Who knew I had such a following? For those of you who read both and for which this was redundant, here's an extra five "things". Consider it your cherry-on-top:

26. I taught myself to like tomatoes, coffee and sushi. I am trying to like celery and cucumbers but it isn't working yet.
27. Even though I work in the retail industry, I really don't like to shop, especially for clothes.
28. I am a saver and Chad is a spender. If it were up to him, we'd have no savings. If it were up to me, we'd have no fun.
29. One of my least favorite things to do is flip through channels. If I turn on the TV, it's for a purpose.
30. I love to play practical jokes. Several years ago I spent $12 on a three-year subscription to Parents' magazine just so I could see Chad's face when it came in the mail. (The reaction was so priceless, I'm still laughing.)

Ice, Ice Baby

We don't get much "winter" weather here. But as I spent 30 minutes scraping ice off of my windshield and windows this morning, I was longing for the days in high school when my dad would exhibit a quiet gesture of kindness scraping off my car before continuing on to morning chores. I never asked and never expected, but it sure was nice to have a perfectly clean windshield on those cold, icy mornings.

(Granted, he probably did this because it offered peace of mind that I wouldn't drive to school staring out of a peephole that I scraped off myself. He probably also would have worried that if I scraped my own car I'd be even more likely to catch a cold--which he was always warning me about--since I went to school every day with wet hair.)

So I was thinking about him today as I was slipping around in a skirt and heels while chiseling my windows and trying to keep my patience.

I was also thinking about my mother-in-law who, by some stroke of good fortune on my part, thought to give us a spray bottle of de-icer for Christmas which came incredibly handy today for Chad, myself, and our neighbor. Midwesterners sure are problem-solvers.

Christmas comes early

All of the appliances are here! The range was delivered today, which finished the project.

Strangely enough, I was a bit sad to get rid of my stove. The fridge and dishwasher I couldn't care less about, but I had a lot of memories with that oven...one of the most memorable being when it died one Thanksgiving and I had to go to a friend's house to bake the pumpkin pie I promised to take to Chad's boss's house for lunch!

But it also saw me through lots of great meals, too. It's funny that one can be sentimental about a stove.

Anyway, here are a few pics.

The worst job in Vegas

No question about it, I have found the worst job in Vegas. Perhaps in the whole country.

Here's a sign from my hotel, Mandalay Bay, explaining that you don't need to worry about separating your trash with your recycling because they will do it for you:


I am genuinely sorry for the person who has to sift through all of the trash from this gigantic hotel and pull out all of the plastic, paper, and glass bottles. I don't want to think about all of the nasty stuff this person must have to smell and touch within any given day.

This has to be even worse than when I lost my retainer at the mall in high school and had to go back and search through the day's trash to find it.

What to do in Denver...

On the way to Denver this morning for a conference, I remembered that the last time I was here, we were on our mall tour in August 2001. It's been seven years!

I didn't remember the name of the mall--and I don't remember many other things about the city, except:

• We got really lost one night on the way back from the mall and ended up driving around until almost 2 a.m. because we were too proud to ask for directions (this was before cell phones and GPS systems, ie: the dark ages)
• I went on a run and realized after about five minutes that I can't breathe very well in this city...and then I gave up
• Dinner out at a Moroccan restaurant one night, which was very cool but I accidentally ate all of a "whole" shrimp (bleck--feet and shell and all)
• An afternoon trip up to Estes Park, which was beautiful. I would love to go back someday.

I get to the hotel and could not believe what it overlooks: the mall where we worked!

Tour buddies, does this look familiar? My, how this place has changed. For starters, the mall used to be in the middle of nowhere:

I once was lost...

Last night I decided that it would be practical to walk Lucy to Chad's softball playoffs. (She could get exercise and I could see his game--what a win-win.) It was only 2.5 miles away so we left at 7:45 for the 8:30 game. We had plenty of time.

Somehow I missed the turn I needed to make and we ended up several miles out of our way. And of course all of the streets curved, meaning the routes I was taking just led us back to where I knew we didn't want to be. So there I was, wandering around some neighborhood with no cell phone, a completely oblivious dog, and the fading sun.

I was immediately reminded of the time I lived by myself in St. Louis, went out for a Saturday walk, and got terribly lost from a bunch of convoluted streets that all started with the word "fern." (Fern Place, Fern Way, Fern Circle...you would never have believed the combinations.) I was honestly wandering around there for hours before I found my way out--and when I did, I was much farther away from home than I'd anticipated!

Last night, we eventually back-tracked our way to the route we were supposed to take and made it to the last 45 minutes of Chad's game, just in time to see him hit a home-run. Then he drove us back, which was good because I don't want to know how long it would have taken me to get home in the dark.

A decade's worth of junk

It’s amazing how time can change your perspective on what you really need and what you don’t. (Why on earth did I keep all of my notebooks and papers from high school and college? What a bunch of junk. The chemistry homework alone made me cringe!)

But I also found some real gems, like the graduation issue of our high school newspaper, The Budget, which included my brilliant comment from the section “In 10 Years: Predictions from the Class of 1996.” If I wasn't the editor-in-chief of the paper, I'd never believe I said this:

I will probably be working as a reporter for a television station somewhere, working my way to the big-time as an anchor on a prime time, nightly news broadcast. Or, if I’ve mellowed out by then, I’ll be living around here, teaching high school English and married with children. –Ellen Tolley

Riiiight. At least I can safely say that I’ve found a happy medium.