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.

V-a-c-a-tion

We've mulled it over. Researched deals. I've got my budget. Gone back and forth on Carribean vs. international vs. staycation. And we've finally made a 2010 vacation decision.

Drumroll, please...

We had so much fun last time, we're going back to Napa. (And San Francisco. And Half Moon Bay.)

Being that August is the only time Chad can really go anywhere, and being that I have the same business trip every August which he manages to get himself invited to, we've decided to extend our trip to California to see some family on the front end (and watch the Cubs play the Giants...but no our life doesn't revolve around baseball) and head to wine country on the back end.

Chad worked his magic and booked an amazing hotel for us in Napa. I'm so excited about this find I can hardly see straight. The only problem is that, between the giant bathtub and the fireplace, I might never leave the room!

Thanks in advance to Janice and Nick, who have graciously agreed to keep Lucy in exchange for a very nice dinner at a restaurant in Hawaii for their honeymoon. Something tells me after this 11-day experiment, they may rethink getting a dog.

Is it August yet?

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.

Are you talking to me?

The minister at the small church Chad's family attends was preparing to give the Children's Sermon yesterday, which generally provides a few kid-friendly pieces of food for thought. He called up all the youngsters, including our two nieces and just a few other kids. They sat politely in the very front row.

He paused.

"Do any of you ever have a hard time making decisions?" he began.

Chad nudged me, leaned over and whispered, "You might want to go up there for this."

Disconnected

I spent the better half of four days back in Illinois for my brother-in-law's graduation. (More on that later when I get the photos downloaded.) And while I was there, I had an incredible epiphany: I am so over being connected all the time.

Keep in mind, I've had some kind of "smartphone" since I started at NRF in 2002. Email has been readily accessible and I'm always on it. I want to be the first to respond to messages and hate feeling left out of conversations. There is always more than one thing going on in my life. And God forbid I miss anything, even on vacation. In the past few months, that outlook has totally changed.

From Thursday through Sunday, I had no cell phone.

No email.

No Facebook.

No TV.(I don't even know who got kicked off American Idol or the Biggest Loser! And please don't tell me because I have it on TiVo. But it was awesome that I wasn't online maniacally checking the news to have that spoiled for me.)

PS, before you go thinking that Chad's parents don't have a TV, they do. It's actually a nice, new, big TV. But all we watched was Chicago Sports Network in the background while we were chatting on Saturday night. And that was fine with me.

My weekend "unplugged" wasn't a conscious choice as much as the fact that my iPhone doesn't work at Chad's parents' house (no AT&T service) and there was plenty of conversation and other things to do than to spend time on the computer.

Regardless, I spent the entire weekend being disconnected and I loved it so much. I mean, I L-O-V-E-D it. I woke up to the sound of birds and horses and not much else. Cracked a magazine I'd been neglecting once our graduation to-do list was complete. Had a few long conversations without being distracted. Lived in the moment.

When Sunday afternoon came and we drove through an area with service, I was dreading turning my iPhone back on; watching the thing tally the 200-some email messages that were waiting for my undivided attention almost gave me a panic attack.

I'm starting to see these "constant connections" as suffocating distractions to real life. I need to simplify.

Is this a sign? Perhaps I just really needed the time off work, you say. Perhaps my brain is telling me I need to just cash it all in - iPhone included. Maybe it was just a subtle reminder that life - and relationships - really don't revolve around Facebook. Regardless, it was awesome. And I want to go back!

Six things I'm thinking right now

6) My husband is a rock star, ifIdosaysomyself. He’s been busting his buns at work on an amendment to the financial regulatory reform bill. As of last night, he had already clocked 47 hours in the office this week. (Most nights, I was long asleep by the time he came home.) He was excited when the amendment was introduced yesterday, and this morning we saw a too-good-to-be-true editorial in the Wall Street Journal about why it is so needed. (Read it, but if it makes your head hurt, don't worry. You can join my club.)

5) There's a downside to all that work. The running around this week wreaked a bit of havoc on Chad's knee, so when he went into the surgeon today for his final appointment there was a bit of swelling. This means no football for another six weeks but all the softball his little heart desires. Fortunately, he plays on a Thursday league so he was all packed and ready to go tonight… And don't tell him, but I'm kind of happy that he's going to ease back into these sports.

4) ...And this is what a farmer’s wife feels like. Chad said he’d be home between 8-9. Great, I said, I'm going to make chicken parmesan to celebrate the end of your crazy week of work. I got home from a haircut. Took Lucy out for a good walk. Got to work in the kitchen. At 8:42, everything was trimmed and breaded and ready to go in the oven. I called his cell. No answer. Called his work cell. Nothing. Called his office. He picked up on the first ring. "The Senate is still voting," he said. "I'm not sure how long I'll be." "Well then I'm making a snack," I said. "And, by the way, when were you planning to tell me this?"

(To all the farmer's wives I know...at what point do I put this in the fridge and decide to make it tomorrow night?)

3) Parting is sweet sorrow. Today was my CEO's last day at work. She's been at NRF for over 30 years and made the decision about a year ago to retire. We've hired her replacement, who starts Monday, and she had her office packed up and ready to go today. I've known this was coming for a really long time, but I still don't totally believe it. She's been such an incredible mentor to me (not to mention an amazing, thoughtful person) that seeing her retire is like having a member of my family move away. You know the family member who always keeps you honest - the one you really don't want to screw up in front of and still knows how to make you squirm? That one.

2) Happy birthday to my Grandpa Howard. He's 87. Or 88. (When you get past a certain point, can't you just stop counting?) Regardless, I love that I called tonight to wish him happy birthday and the answering machine picked up. He was probably out having dinner with friends or "day-tripping," as Grandma calls it. Earlier today he may have stopped by one of the farms just to see what was going on, or try to offer his assistance. I hope when I'm 87 (or 88) that I'm still lively enough to celebrate my birthday. And I hope Chad's around to do it with me. Surely he won't be working by then...right?

1) Was that just a week ago? Last weekend, about a dozen girls got together and went out to a cabin in the Shenandoah wilderness for Janice's bachelorette party. (I use the term "cabin" loosely - this place had seven bedrooms, leather furniture, a hot tub, pool table, a giant firepit and the world's most amazing kitchen.) Two of our cousins made the trip from California and we legitimately could not have had more fun, or better weather. Janice was a good sport despite all the tricks we had up our sleeves, no one managed to fall out of the canoe on Saturday when we went out on the water, and I ate so much I had to wear elastic pants on the trip home. It was one of those perfect weekends that no amount of pictures could do justice. Even though there are pictures. And videos. Call it blackmail.

And in a case of perfect timing, the phone just rang. Chad will be home in a half-hour. It's going to be a late dinner - again - but I'm channeling my inner farm wife and telling myself that old adage about eating two hours before bedtime is a load of hooey.

Hop to it

It's been a long eight months for Chad and his bum knee. From tearing his ACL and meniscus in September (fortunately, after our trip to Paris) to surgery in November, Chad's been learning to walk again, run again, and even squat again. He's been a diligent patient, not doing more than he should - except for that time in December he shoveled the driveway after it snowed six inches.

We've spent more on physical therapy in 2010 than we have on a lot of other things - and the bill we got in the mail a few weeks ago was 23 pages long. (Fortunately, we had to pay a small fraction of the $15,000 or so the insurance company has had to fork over.) And he's still been going to physical therapy bright and early every Monday morning. They've got him doing everything from standing one-legged on a ball (the bad leg) to build up strength and learn how to accommodate sudden movements to working on the rotation of the knee so that it really can bend all the way back, and hopping, skipping and jumping.

Chad has passed most of his tests with flying colors, but one continues to elude him: the hop test. It sounds simple enough - hop forward three times as far as you can on your good leg. Then go back to where you started and hop forward three times on your "bad" leg. If the hop on his bad leg is 80% of what it is on his good leg, he passes. The first time he tried it a few weeks ago, I think he was at like 45%. Not good.

This test has been giving him fits for weeks, and every now and then I'll see him standing in our hallway at night, concentrating intently on his hops. While much of this is physical, some of it is mental. (If I'd torn my ACL to smithereens, I'd probably have a hard time getting over it, too.)

But the clock is ticking: it's almost D-Day. Chad goes back to the surgeon for his monthly check-up this Thursday, and has been hoping to get cleared to play his favorite sports. But after failing his hop test last Monday in physical therapy, he was discouraged that he might have to go another month playing only golf and watching football from the sidelines. He asked his physical therapist if he could work on it for a week and do his final hop test on the Monday before his appointment.

Last night, when the opposing team hadn't shown up for football, Chad's team decided to scrimmage. I had to squint - twice - to confirm that Chad, who has spent the last month "coaching," was lacing up his cleats. Even though he played quarterback for both "teams" and didn't get within three feet of an opposing player, I think I held my breath the whole time. He said it was great to get out and "play" again, and was nice to see him running around as his nearly-normal self.

When Chad called me this morning to tell me he passed his hop test, I almost jumped out of my chair. Not only did he pass it, the "hops" were so close that his physical therapist didn't even measure them. To prove that he wasn't just half-hopping on the good leg, he did it again with the same result.

For both of us - Chad more than me, of course - it's almost the end of a really long road. We're both optimistic that Chad will be cleared for full activity when he goes to see the surgeon on Thursday, so our summer of football, softball and basketball is about to begin. And while Chad's back on the field, I'm going to look for ways to spend all that money we've been allocating to rehab. Let the fun begin!