Can't Say I Didn't Tri

Me and my awesome new pal, Christine.

My TriathaMom was a couple of Saturdays ago and I know you've all been on the edge of your computer seats just waiting to hear about it.

I made an awesome new friend, Christine, who gave me a ride up on Saturday morning. We left early so we would have time to drive the bike course before registration started and we talked about how nervous we were the whole way there. (It was her first one, too.) We found the starting point, got lost on the bike course and made it back (with help from my phone's GPS) well before registration ended.

I got my body markings (race numbers on the arms, age on the left calf) and we went to set up our bikes in the transition area. I was happy to see that ours were not the only mountain bikes, although road bikes were definitely there in abundance. As the sun started to come up we took advantage of the short lines at the port-a-potties and then played the waiting game until start time.

As we walked into the pool area my concerns about being too cold were immediately put to rest. In fact, it was almost too warm inside the rec center. As Christine and I found a place to sit near the pool I noticed that the pool was 13 feet deep at one end and had a small 5 foot deep shelf-with-drop-off on the other end. I immediately started to stress out over this. One thing they stated on their website was that if you needed to walk the swim, you could. I was comforted by the fact that I could walk if I tired out - alas, I am not 13.5 feet tall. From that point until the time I exited the swimming pool I am fairly certain I exhausted myself with anxiety.

Just before the swim began a gal with a microphone hooked into the rec center's speaker system talked about something for 5-10 minutes. There was so much chatter going on that I could not understand a word - but luckily the instructions filtered through the crowd and we all realized that those with the fastest starting times needed to head up to the front of the pack. I knew I could do the swim in about 20 minutes or less so I ended up being just in front of the women who were using kickboards for the swim. I almost cried a few times, almost completely gave up once, watched as some of the starting swimmers returned from their bike ride, but after roughly an hour I was able to start swimming.

People using kickboards passed me, one sweet gal even asked if I was okay and if I wanted to share her kickboard, but I finished the swim second from last. A paramedic stood where I exited the pool and asked, "How are you feeling? Can you do the bike and run?" I told him I was going to finish this thing, no matter what, and didn't even try to run to the transition area because I was completely worn out.

I toweled myself off, laced up my shoes, snapped my helmet on and headed for the start of the bike portion. As I left the transition area a volunteer called, "LAST BIKE OUT!" I started to pedal and could never really gain any momentum because the first 4 miles was a gradual uphill slope. However, I had promised myself that I would NOT walk any of the bike ride because that would be just silly. I passed a couple of women with flat tires and one gal who was walking her bike. I offered words of encouragement and they did the same. At the end of the 4th mile was what I heard many of the other racers dub 'Sick Hill'. I shifted my bike into the lowest possible gear and s l o w l y made my way up it. It about killed me when the chain slipped and I had to dismount to fix it. Talk about jello for legs - and I still had 7 miles to go! Once I crested Sick Hill it was pretty smooth sailing from there on out. There were a couple of magical downhills where I'm pretty sure I was flying. At one point a white van pulled up alongside of me - my family! They were there to cheer me on. What a boost! That gave me the burst of energy I needed to finish up the bike ride.

I hurried in to the transition area once again to ditch my bike helmet ("Nice hair!" Allen called out to me, laughing. I had serious helmet-head with my natural curls frizzing out along the bottom. So I quickly put my hair into a ponytail, too.) and head out for the 5K. As I left the volunteer directed me to the 'after-party'. "I'm just starting the 5K," I told him. "Where do I go?" He instructed me to follow the green arrows and then called, "LAST RUNNER OUT!" (What the heck is that all about, anyway??) I started at a speed-walking pace and eventually decided to see how my legs would respond to a slow jog. It actually felt pretty good! I passed up a couple of women who were walking this portion and some of my kids ran the last mile or so with me. I would say I probably ran at least 2 of the 3 miles. Go me!

As I came in to the finish I was ready to cry. I did it. I could now call myself a triathlete! I got my cool finisher's necklace:

(So much better than the typical medal that I would never wear again!)

and a big hug from Christine who had waited there for me for who knows how long. Allen parked the van and the kids went crazy with the bounce houses, cotton candy, balloons and free food.

At this point I pretty much just wanted to fall asleep.

When I got home I looked up the results to see where I finished. Out of 331 women I placed 321st. However, the most important thing was that I finished at all since I was really only competing against myself.

Would I ever do this again? Probably not. After my anxiety over the long wait to swim in a 13 foot deep pool and a bike ride geared towards beginners which exhausted me to no end, I think I'm going to call it good and stick with running.

In conclusion: I came. I swam. I biked. I ran. I finished.

What's next?

Hard-Headed

photo from here

As promised, here is the story of my head vs. my friend's windshield.

What do cookies have to do with anything? Keep reading.

When I was 16 years old some friends and I were goofing around in a VW bug in a parking lot after a youth dance. I was trying to adjust the front passenger seat to slide forward and my friend Steve, who was driving, slammed on the brakes to help me. I was not wearing my seatbelt and flew forward, cracking the windshield with my mighty forehead.

Initially I didn't even realize what had happened - but suddenly there were hands all around me and everyone asking if I was okay and did we need to get to the hospital? I thought they were still goofing off - until I looked at the windshield. I felt fine but could not imagine why my head wasn't injured when it had just created a lovely spiderweb pattern across Steve's windshield. This was when I realized that I had some sort of superpower. I was ecstatic! However, Steve felt terrible and kept insisting that he take me to be looked at. Not wanting to reveal my newly discovered powers I assured him that I was not hurt and he took me home.

The next day at church I was excited to take the kids in my Sunday School class out to the church parking lot and show them what my head could do. No one believed me until they asked Steve's brother who confirmed the story.

Later, when it dawned on me that Steve was going to have to pay to replace his windshield, I felt terrible. I mean, superpowers or not, he was about to leave for college and I'm sure he didn't need the extra expense. I didn't have the money to offer to pay for a new windshield, so instead I baked him some cookies (Of course I baked him some cookies! This is what superheroes do!) and left them on the seat of his VW to enjoy on his 9 hour drive to college along with a note of apology.

Once I realized that there wasn't really much I could do to save the world with my titanium noggin, I sort of forgot about it.

But I can still bake an awesome batch of cookies.

Reflections

Hello, world.

The snow falls so lightly this morning that it almost appears as a shimmering mist outside my bedroom window. In moments when the sunlight escapes through the clouds and reflects off of the falling snow just right I could swear that the world is being covered in swirling sparkles of glitter.

The morning I slipped and fell on my driveway, the concrete sparkled. I didn't notice this until after I had fallen and was laying there in the gutter in front of my home with my injury, unable to move. Maybe it was the angle from which I could now see the driveway, maybe it was because I had experienced firsthand the ice rink that my street had become. Perhaps the glimmering I saw was simply a result of the shock I was experiencing due to the pain in my leg. Either way, I remember thinking that if I had to lay there for a long time before someone discovered me, that driveway sure was a pretty sight. I started to wonder if maybe there was actually glitter mixed in with the concrete when my neighbor Mr. C., out walking his dog, came to my rescue.

Probably the one thing I have thought about most as I lie here in my bed day after day is the timing of my accident. Because it was 9:00 in the morning during Christmas break, my neighborhood was still asleep. I wonder if Mr. C. took regular walks at this hour or if something may have held him back or pushed him forward so that he left a bit sooner or later than usual. Just as when Coolister broke his ankle last March, I have learned that there are no such thing as coincidences in situations like these.

It was no coincidence that Mr. C. came by when he did and crossed the street to where I lay in order to offer assistance. I have never even met this man before that day, yet he did not hesitate to come to my aid. I have honestly thought in retrospect that we could have named our son after Mr. C because that is how grateful I am for his help that morning. I'm not sure I could ever really express the depth of my gratitude.

It was not a coincidence that this happened during Christmas break, when my older kids could be home tending to the younger ones so that Allen could stay in the hospital with me. When the paramedics showed up, All-a-Boy was downstairs playing a game with the littlest kids so that they would not see me in pain, surrounded by strangers in our front room, carted on a gurney to the ambulance.

It was not a coincidence that our nurse in the emergency room was the daughter of a neighbor who we knew well. It helped me feel at ease to talk about something familiar as I waited to hear what course of action would be taken to repair the dislocation and breaks in my ankle and leg.

It was no coincidence that the on-call surgeon was the same one who operated on Coolister's leg last march. We found him to be a bit arrogant and rude throughout Coolister's ordeal but we saw firsthand how Coolister's ankle healed beyond what we were told was possible and had confidence in the doctor's skills as a surgeon. I also do not think it was a coincidence that the aforementioned surgeon was actually kind and considerate toward me (well, minus the waiting time before surgery) despite his typical reputation.

It was not a coincidence that, when our little boy was born 3 weeks early, he weighed in at 8 pounds, 4 ounces and was perfectly healthy and ready to be here.

When I went for my surgery the day after I had given birth, it was no coincidence that I saw my OB twice (there to perform surgery on others under his care) while waiting for my surgeon to show up. He offered me words of encouragement and support when I was ready to explode with some mixture of anger, fear, frustration and tears. He helped me feel a sense of calm when I needed it.

As Allen waited on me in the hospital, it was no coincidence that our neighbors showed up at our home to provide our family with pizzas for lunch, meals for dinner and treats for whenever they wanted one before anything was coordinated to make this happen. It helped me to know that my family was being watched over while I selfishly kept Allen by my side to help tend to the needs of our newborn baby as the nurses tended to the needs of my post-surgical healing.

There are many more instances of non-coincidences over the past 2 weeks which I'll keep tucked away to be remembered personally by myself and my family, just as they should be.

In all instances, I know this for sure: coincidences did not exist in my world over the last couple of weeks. Tender mercies? Gifts from a loving Heavenly Father? Blessings? Even miracles? Yes to all of them... but no coincidences.

The afternoon as I waited to leave the hospital I was holding my baby boy. His eyes were curious and seemed to be searching mine with that innocence that comes with being new. I reveled in this moment, basking in his newness and the overwhelming happiness of being able to do this again, to mother another sweet newborn babe. As I sat there gazing at him, I noticed my own face reflected in the eyes of my beautiful baby boy - and then he smiled.

Coincidence? I think not.

For My Friends At Sorenson

Dear Sorenson Friends,

I got an email from Maria (Hi Maria! Thanks for the email!) and she mentioned that a whole bunch of you read my blog. I just wanted you all to know that just knowing that totally made my day. It's almost like I'm still one of the gang.

You ladies rock.

Much love,
Gerb

Seasons

Lately I've been thinking.

I've been thinking about a lot of things.

I've been thinking about being pregnant for the last time and trying to think of a way to express my feelings over the matter. Words fail me.

I have realized that as Curly passes through each stage and age it is the last time I will be experiencing it with a little girl. Why is this difficult?

I have wondered what it will be like to have my children leave for college and life beyond our home. Are they ready?

I have been noticing the unique and shared traits of each of my children and how some of them are distinctly from me and others are definitely from their dad. This makes me happy.

I have even thought about my blog - how I wish that when I started posting over 3 years ago I had taken more time to thoughtfully choose a blog name and address. (Gerb in the 'Burbs is so much more catchy than the boring Life As I Know It.)

I have thought of various things I could write about or take pictures of.

I think about relationships with family and friends. I wish I could choose a different person to visit with every single day. I wish I had more time for others.

I think much of who I have become in the last 20 years. I have not changed a whole lot in appearance but the core of who I am and what I think has gone through a complete transformation. And yet - I am really pretty much the same person I have always been. This confuses me.

I wonder if I will ever go to New York or Australia. I wonder if I will be disappointed with either if I do.

Like a child on the night before her first trip to Disneyland, I am filled with anticipation, nervousness and excitement over our plans for Halloween.

I understand that I am an introvert a great deal of the time and an extrovert the rest of the time. I do not understand what brings out either end of this personality spectrum. I wish I knew.

I cannot fathom our home ever being diaper-free. I wonder if I'm ready for that time.

I wonder if I have my priorities arranged correctly.

I realize that I love music, but because of this love for music I often cannot listen to it. Every song, every word that holds a memory for a time or situation in my life inspires some sort of emotion. There are certain emotions that are best left alone.

I keep trying to think of ideas of things to write on my kids' lunchbags each day. After 5 years of writing jokes, I ran out. I started writing inspirational thoughts but these do not go over as well.

I think about others often. Are they happy? Are they well? Are they eating something delicious and not telling me about it?

I worry that I am selfish. I worry that I am lacking. I worry that I worry too much.

I love that we get new family pictures every year. I have been wondering what colors and themes we should try for this time around.

I think about life, I think about death. I find beauty and sadness in both.

I have been watching the clouds and the mountains as the seasons change.

I suppose that what I am trying to say is that I have been doing a whole lot of thinking - and not much writing. I am hoping to turn this around soon, to transform this jumble of thoughts into words...

I figured this was the best way to start.

Race For The Cure

This post is LONG overdue...

Waaaaay back in May I had the chance to attend the Susan Komen Race for the Cure in Salt Lake City. A group of friends went to participate in support of our friend Jes who had surgery to rid herself of cancer. (p.s. I hate cancer.) She is doing awesome and is SO loved!

Our team was called "Wish Upon A Star". We were encouraged to wear plenty of pink to show our support of kicking breast cancer in the trash, so I found this amazing ensemble at the local thrift store for only $15 total! Can you believe it? I wish you could see my awesome pink shoes, too. And don't you love the wand?

When we found out that roughly 18,000 people would be participating in this event, we decided to ride Trax in to Salt Lake. That ended up being a very wise decision because the streets were PACKED! On the way up my friend Clint and I lamented over the fact that there was no way we would find Jes among a crowd of 18,000... but all was well. We had a post-race meeting spot all planned out already.

When we exited Trax, miracle of miracles, there was JES and her family! She had ridden in on the very same train as we had, just one car up. We got to walk the whole route with Jes and quite a few others in our group.


The shirts that people came up with were my favorite part. I didn't think to take pictures of everyone's shirts until the end, when I saw this one:


But a few of my other favorites were:

"We're Walkers For (insert name here)'s Knockers"

"Save second base!"

(On a man's shirt) "I'm here for the boobs."

I am not sure that words can really express the awesome feeling of being one person in a sea of 18,000 - all there united in one cause.

It. Was. Amazing.

I am not sure pictures can show it accurately, either, but that's what you're gonna get...


Here's Team Wish Upon A Star:


I think our shirts said it all...

It's Not You, It's Me

I have made a decision.

After today's post, I am going to turn off my comments.

I have decided as of late that blogging is consuming way too much of my time. However, I can not give it up entirely. I love having a place to express myself, record my family's happenings and share my thoughts with others. Honestly, your comments are a large part of what makes my blog so awesome. But here is what happens. I read your comments. If you are someone new, I click over to your blog and read to get to know who you are. I sometimes leave comments on your posts. Once I have done this, I have made it known that I am a reader on your blog and I feel like I am now obligated to continue commenting.

But wait, there's more...

I also notice other commenters on your blogs. They capture my interest and I then click over to their blogs to read. I see catchy blog titles on your blog rolls and read more blogs. I comment and read and subscribe to my favorites. And then I start to wonder... why doesn't so-and-so read my blog or comment? I've read theirs and commented many times. Maybe I'm not cool enough for their blog presence. Maybe they read my comments on their blog and wonder who the heck I am and why I bother to keep coming back?

Seriously, it's like high school all over again.

So I stop commenting. Then I start again, but only sometimes. Throughout the process I find more new blogs to peruse... etcetera, etcetera. If I wrote a blog post that day, I have to keep checking throughout the day to see if I have received any new comments, making the time to respond to everyone who stops by so they will not feel the way I do when I leave comments that end up feeling all lonely and ignored.

The next thing I know it is 2 hours past time to make dinner, the laundry is undone, my stairs are littered with Legos and my smallest children have somehow managed to decorate the white wainscot in our front room with 6 colors of Sharpie while feeding themselves leftover oatmeal.

Honestly? I am embarrassed to even admit to all of this, but it is what it is. My name is Gerb, and I have a blogging addiction. (Here is where you say, "Hello, Gerb!")

I do not want to care about how many people are following my blog or how many people are leaving comments. I can not make myself worry over why I feel inferior to certain other bloggers. I do not have time for all of this silly drama I am creating for myself.

So please understand - it's not you. It's me. I hope this isn't a break-up, but an opportunity for growth. I will continue to write and I hope you will continue to enjoy what I post.

For the sake of my own sanity, this is what I need to do.

Can we still be friends?

Birthday Recap

My birthday was... amazing. It lasted almost a full week, which made it even better.

I woke up the morning of my birthday just after 9:00 a.m. Can you believe I slept that long?! I smelled fire and quickly jumped out of bed to investigate. Allen was in the bathroom, lighting candles. Hubba saw me first and said, "Shhh... we're getting things set up." Allen turned and nicely asked me to please go back to bed.

I laid there for a few minutes, wondering if it would be permissible to grab a book to pass the time, when my alarm went off.

"Does this mean I can get out of bed now?" I called. There was no answer. Everyone was gone. I turned off the alarm and ventured into the bathroom for a nice soak in the tub without kids asking when I'd be done or notes written in crayon being passed under the door.


Right about the time I was draining the tub some music began to play from somewhere on the bathroom counter. It was coming from some strange device I was unfamiliar with. I grabbed it and attempted to follow the instructions on the front but could not figure it out for the life of me. (Technologically smart, I am not.)


He had gotten me a fancy-schmancy phone, the abilities of which I can still not fully comprehend. (P.S. My one request was NO texting, so don't try. That's a whole separate post in and of itself.)


Finally, after 2 more songs, I found the lock and answered. It was my friend Jenny calling. Arrangements had been made for us to go for breakfast at Mimi's Cafe. She picked me up and we enjoyed some omelets, potatoes and muffins along with some great conversation. (It's always a good time with Jenny!) The waiter came to our table and asked which of us was Gerberta then handed me a card.

(like son, like father...)

The note inside explained that we were next going for pedicures & manicures. Can I add that the only thing better than doing all of this on my birthday was being able to do it all with a friend? We both lamented over our lack of recently-shaved legs but decided that they were used to such things at pedicure places. My hands and feet have never been so happy.

(No picture because I did not bring my camera and did not realize that my phone could take pictures. And besides that, my funky feet would likely frighten you. You're welcome.)

We made our way back to Jenny's house where Allen and the kids were hanging out with her family and then headed home for a bit.

Once the kids had returned from school and their dinner was ready, Allen and I met up with Dave and Jenny again, this time for a trip to our favorite local second-hand store. I had mentioned to Allen before that it would be fun to find some awesome outfits there and then go on a date wearing the newly acquired outfits sometime... so this is what we did.

We spent more time than we had originally planned in putting our outfits together but the selection was huge and the end result was well worth it. (My favorite? The shoes. On everyone.)

(He IS BYU. For reals.)


(Have you ever seen a more awesome pair of twinner jackets?! If only they'd had time to grow their hair into mullets...)

(They're having twins. One for each.)

(If those shiny jackets are hurting your eyes, I know.)

As we checked out with our awesome clothing purchases the cashier handed me an envelope with my name on it. Inside was a note from the store itself, thanking me for my hours of time and hoards of cash that have been spent there over the years:

Along with this card:

(Those D.I. workers can get a little risque!)

And then it was time for dinner.

Everyone at Olive Garden was obviously unsure if we were serious or not. Our waitress came to the table with a huge smile every time, as if she was thinking, If you're trying to be funny, I'm thinking you're funny. If you're really like this, then my smile means bless your dear, sweet hearts.

Once dinner was enjoyed we told them it was my birthday so that we could all share the dessert. Smiley-Waitress informed us, "We don't do dessert for birthdays, but we can sing you a rousing birthday song!" We had already (painfully) witnessed that at another table and decided to pass. Besides, the kids were waiting with treats at home. (Just thought y'all would like to know that before you head to Olive Garden for your birthday... they don't do birthday desserts anymore. But you still get an Andes Mint after dinner, which may qualify as dessert. You make the call.)

After modeling our new threads for Dave & Jenny's kids, Allen and I went home to celebrate with the kiddos. They had arranged my favorite treats into this, complete with 38 candles:

Can you say: awesome?

First off, I want to say that my husband ROCKS my world. All of the thoughtful planning that went into making my birthday so memorable was pulled off without my knowing one thing. I am so loved by he and my sweet kids. Thanks, family.


I had also received a plethora of treats, cards and surprises throughout the day and in the days following the anniversary of my day of birth...



Yes, I am spoiled. And I love it. Thanks to everyone who made my birthday awesome. From the 80+ birthday wishes on Facebook (!!) to the comments on my birth-day post to the treats and phone calls not mentioned or pictured here, my birthday was

A-W-E-S-O-M-E.

You people rule.

So, this seems like a good place to end things. But oh, no... it is not over yet. Because on Wednesday of this week, specifically March 31st, Allen and I celebrated with a gift I purchased for myself back in 2009... along with a couple of surprises thrown in.

I think that those deserve a post all their own.

(stay tuned...)

Race Day

I am not sure why it is so hard to write about this day. I have been meaning to since Sunday afternoon but all of the thoughts, emotions, experiences and accomplishments of the day remain in my brain in a wonderful jumble that can not quite be organized into words that are adequate to convey what it is that I think and feel.

How do I tell the story without making it all about me? I mean really, where do I begin? I guess I'll start at the very beginning. (I hear it's a very good place to start.)

It was on the night before the race that I finalized my running playlist. I added some R.E.M. for Chip, who was not able to make it, some Relient K for ElemenoB who was going to be tending the kids while we ran and some Michael Buble for my dad - among a handful of other great running tunes.

Early the next morning I awoke to the sounds of Coolister's crutches as he made his way up the stairs. I couldn't imagine what he was doing up at 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday since he normally slept in as long as possible. It turns out that he was just wanting to come cheer us on from the stands - you know, offer up some family support for his dad and I.

How thoughtful. We all loaded up and headed out.

The temperate weather surprised us. We were expecting a cold, windy rain but instead found mild weather that was perfect for running.

Once we arrived at the starting point I realized that I had missed a few calls on my phone. Two calls were from my longtime interpreter friends, Clint and Amy, who were both there to run the 10K as a show of support to me. It was just a few minutes before the starting cannon for the 10K when I tried to call back, to no avail. I have to admit that with over 2,000 runners present (and just as many spectators) I knew that my chances of finding them were slim to none, but we headed to the starting line to look for them anyway.

Another of my missed calls was from Jason and it was then that I realized that I had forgotten my camera. Jason had offered to come and take pictures of the race for me but it seemed vain to take him up on it so I hadn't responded one way or the other. Well, wouldn't you know it... the next thing we knew we ran into Jason, camera in hand. I was so grateful that he knows I am vain enough to want pictures for this very blog post.

Pictures like this...

This is Allen and I as we were waiting for the 5K to start. Completely un-posed, too. At the appointed time, we found a place in the sea of runners behind the starting line and before we knew it the starting cannon fired. It took us a full minute and a half before we were even able to cross the starting line. (Before I go on, let me apologize in advance for how shy Allen is around the camera...)


The crowd was so massive that there was no way I could even think about running until about a block into the race. It was frustrating at first, that is until we had reached the half mile mark and already I was feeling ready to walk. Because the race started out on a long, gradual hill it was quickly wearing me down. I was about to slow to a walk when I saw the first sign on a light pole. It read: GO GERB! I wish I had pictures of the signs which some mysterious friend had placed around the course, but this will have to suffice:


SO AWESOME! I was touched to know that someone would take the time to not only make signs but to go around and post them at strategic points throughout the race. I made it another good stretch of road then slowed to a fast walk for about a half block before picking up my pace again. When we had reached the point where we were about a mile into the race I spotted Coolister on a grassy hill and called to him. Jason had loaded our eldest manchild up in his car and sped over to this point of the race for some more photos.


I probably only walked a total of 1/4 mile because the signs and photo ops kept me going. And Allen was amazing, encouraging me the whole way. I even gave him permission to go on ahead a few times but he stayed right with me.


As we neared the finish, Allen even offered up a little prayer on my behalf...

I told Allen at this point that I wouldn't be able to make it around the track at the finish without walking. I had already pushed myself beyond what I thought I could do and my legs were not going to cooperate any longer. However, I was surprised. So many dear friends were there cheering me on! First Jason with his camera, then Allen's sister Rachel & her husband Jeremy who we didn't know had run and finished ahead of us. My friend Natalie surprised me with cheers from the sidelines, and Coolister encouraged me through the finish line. I found a second wind that I didn't even know was there.

I also didn't realize that Allen had purposely fallen behind so that I could cross the finish line before he did.


Did you know that the proceeds of this run go towards cancer research? It was no accident that this was the race I chose to conquer. There were so many parallels that ran through my mind as I worked my way through the course. They kept me going and brought me strength.

We finished 908th and 910th at around 35 minutes. But I was not running for rankings or time.

I was running because I can run. I was running to remind myself that I can do hard things. I was running in memory of my dad who died from brain cancer 9 years ago and in support of my friend Jes who amazes me with her strength in battling cancer now.

Victory.


After the race Coolister crutched his way over to us which made this, my favorite picture of the day, possible. Me, my man and my oldest boy. I love these guys.


I couldn't help but think that the only way this day could possibly be better would be if I was somehow able to find Clint and Amy. And then, wouldn't you know it...


Happiness.

Life Is A Highway

Yesterday we made the long trip back home from our annual visit to sunny southern California. As we drove and the scenery changed from the Joshua Trees of the high desert to the bright lights of Las Vegas; from the crimson cliffs of southern Utah to the snow-covered mountains closer to home, I realized that these road trips are a lot like life.

Sometimes the roads are free and clear with no obstacles or distractions, but other times we get mired in traffic and chaos and we have to make a choice. We can patient and wait until we pass through it all or we can become angry and frustrated about the surrounding chaos - even though it is something beyond our control.

Often we will notice that the traffic is stopped on the other side of the road. This makes us thankful that we are traveling in a different direction just then.

There are times where we may become lost and unsure of where to go. We can choose to stop and ask for directions or try to make our own path to our destination but either way we are usually able to eventually get to where we are going. Some paths are more difficult to travel but offer a much better view while other times the road will be easy to navigate.

We may encounter ground-shaking storms or patches of ice which require us to slow down for a bit or maybe even to stop altogether in search of shelter. Other times we will enjoy perfect weather; sunshine with just enough cloud-cover to offer warmth and protection at the same time and road conditions which are near perfect.

When we start to run out of gas it is an opportunity to pull over, stretch our weary bodies and fill up our tanks again. The road is always there, but we don't have to rush to get back to it; we can take our sweet time, take pictures, and resume our road-trip when we feel ready.

Some journeys are long and seem almost never-ending, other trips are much too short, but the excursion is always worthwhile for the people we meet, the experiences we gain, the memories we make and the beautiful scenery we take in along the way.

And regardless of the length of our drive or the things we encounter, the journey is all worth it when we reach our destination in the end.

Season's Readings

Every year at Christmas our family likes to read a holiday story together. These are my two favorites and I often recommend them to others whether it is the holiday season or not.

Let me tell you why.

Christmas Jars is the story of Hope, a reporter who is grieving the recent loss of her adoptive mother when her apartment is robbed. Soon after someone leaves a small jar full of money anonymously on her doorstep. Eager to learn the source of this unexpected generosity, Hope uses her skills as an investigative journalist to find other recipients of 'Christmas jars'. Her search eventually leads her to the family who first began the tradition of saving a year's worth of spare change to give to someone in need at the holiday... but that's all I'm going to tell you.

It is a wonderful story which teaches the power which lies in giving of yourself... and may inspire a new Christmas tradition for you.


A Return to Christmas is a heartwarming Christmas story which follows the lives of two young boys living in different worlds; Artemus and Chess. I don't want to give away too much of what happens, but through a simple twist of fate these boys are thrown into unexpected circumstances which teach them both much of who they really are. It is a story of Christmas miracles and family ties and enduring love. This book is written by Chris Heimerdinger, who is one of my favorite authors because of his ability to write in such a way that his stories are brought to life.

Both books are great to read aloud with your family or all by yourself, wrapped in your favorite quilt with something chocolate nearby.

Celebrate the season with a little bit of readin'!

Friendly Hands

Every year I am required to attend 20 hours worth of interpreting workshops to maintain my certification. Last night a workshop was offered for FREE, and being the penny-pinching, thrift-loving money-miser that I am, I could not resist.

Apparently, no one else could either.

Aside from the fact that it was an interesting and informative class, it was like a reunion of sorts. (Almost) EVERYONE was there!


I'm not sure which I enjoyed more, the workshop itself or the visiting with everyone before and after.

Okay, who am I kidding? The visiting wins.

I am SO thankful for my awesome interpreter friends!

Confetti

My posts for the next few days will likely be sporadic as I do not have regular access to an internet connection. However, a nurse was kind enough to let me in on a little-known place on the third floor where I could publish this today.

This post was composed in the earliest hours of this morning.

Sleep eludes me as I sit in this distant hospital room. All around me is silent except for the rythmic breathing from the bed beside me. I am lost in thought.

I am reminded of so many wonderful wonderful childhood memories over these last few days - memories of times past which bring me much happiness. Yet one memory seems to stand out among them all today; it is the memory of confetti.

Julz and I first met in the Bay Village apartments on the corner of Anza and Spencer. We were both quiet, shy young girls who enjoyed devouring good books. I do not recall the exact circumstances which led to our meeting but I will never forget the subsequent years which made us inseparable.

There was the summer that we took turns reading from Stephen King's IT until we were both so completely petrified that we could hardly walk near a sewer grate without the hairs on the back of our necks standing on end. Or the times we would drive endlessly back and forth on the local beach's esplenade in my parent's brown van, hoping to catch a glimpse of certain persons of the male persuasion. We would occasionally hang out with the nighttime crew from Albertson's grocery store or spend late nights just playing Pictionary and laughing at Julie's kitchen table. And these memories are just the beginning.

There were also the nights for confetti.

One integral aspect of our friendship was that it was so much more than just that. Friendship does not quite describe the association between Julie and I over the years. Somewhere amidst those late nights and laughter we became family.

It was not uncommon for Julie and I to have late-night cravings. We habitually wanted fresh donut holes or tall, cold milkshakes but we were not yet old enough to drive. This is where Julie's mom came in. She was always more than happy to get us to our destination - sometimes even when the rest of the world seemed to be asleep. We would wake her, make our request, then off we'd go to Dunkin' Donuts or Norm's at 3:00 a.m. We would return home and need another player for a round of Win, Lose or Draw and Julie's mom would happily step in and join us. These days are where the division between my life and Julie's began to meld and before I knew it I had a new sister and another mother.

Before the days that either of us could drive Julz and I would spend weeks at a time on the floor of her bedroom, cross-legged, cutting large pieces of colored paper into small pieces of colored paper, filling garbage sacks with millions of little treasures as we spoke in eager anticipation of the Big Confetti Day.

I will always remember how comfortable I felt in Julie's little apartment. I could talk to her and her mom about anything and everything. Julie's mom was always happy to teach me any of life's lessons that I didn't quite understand or needed some help with. They noticed when I was in need or struggling and offered helping hands, loving embraces, and of course there was always the food. Grilled cheese sandwiches, home-fried chicken, make-your-own-microwave-burritos, there was never any shortage of vittles. When I was at Julie's I was fed... and I was fed. Nourishment for the body and soul. And that's how it has always been.

When the Big Day came, Julie and I would sit, crouched, behind the bus stop in front of Bay Village. The veil of darkness would help disguise us from the view of occasional cars which would speed down the street. When the coast was clear, we would dash onto the road and scatter a few bags of our homemade confetti all over the intersection, laughing out loud, then run back to the shelter of the bus stop and wait expectantly for the show to begin. As the next car would come speeding past, the air currents would grab the tiny shreds of paper and throw them into the air, a rainbow of color cascading in all directions, whisked every which way; a paper rain-shower in shades of pastel and white littering the street with a surprising beauty - a sight to behold and worth every hour spent creating our spontaneous street party.

Last weekend I received unexpected and difficult news. My husband, understanding this extension of my family, encouraged me to fly 'home' for a visit. For hours here we have talked, laughed, reminisced and been fed. And now, here I sit in mom's hospital room, the dark earliest-morning before the Big Day, in anxious anticipation. I do not know what tomorrow will bring for my 'adopted mother', but I have had opportunity to gather up many colorful memories and recollections. And this morning I am scattering them about, hoping that this evening brings news that is cause for celebration. But regardless of what the day has in store, for me there will always be the splendor of the swirling, colorful confetti.

I Have A Comment

My blog address is GerbsRandomThoughts, so today that's what you're going to get.

Here's the deal. Over 2 years and 404 posts ago, I started writing this blog. Initially it was because I love to write and I loved the idea of others wanting to read what I had to write. Actually, I still write for those very reasons but now there is more.

Like an actor on the stage loves applause, a blogger on the internet loves comments. And today I propose that it we start leaving them more often.

Not necessarily always "Hey, great job!" kind of comments every time, and not necessarily a long diatribe of opinion, either. It's just nice to know that someone read a post and left a comment to show they were there.

I sort of wonder - is there some kind of blog etiquette that I am unaware of regarding comments? If you have never been to the person's blog before and read it for the first time and never come back again, is it okay for you to comment? I say yes. Do you have to have read a person's blog for a specific amount of time before it is okay to come out of "blog-stalking/lurking" and leave a comment? I don't think so.

Here's what I think. Everyone likes comments. Think about it. Have you ever read a blog or heard a conversation where someone says something like, "And then this person I have NEVER EVEN HEARD OF BEFORE had the GALL to leave a comment on my BLOG! Can you even believe that?!" No, it is more likely you will read or hear something about how everyone loves being acknowledged. Unless I am unaware of some set of rules out there in blog land regarding the who/why/where/when and how of proper commenting, I am going to assume that comments are a good, positive, always welcome thing.

(Unless you're a commenter who says things like, "Your kids are hideously ugly and I am hiding in your bushes." In that case, my neighborhood watch program is in full force, I own 23 guns and I'm a quadruple black belt in karate. Plus you're wrong about my kids.)

So, here's the deal. I'm throwing down the gauntlet. Let's try a little experiment.

For the next day or 2 days or week or rest of your life (you set your own time limit) let's leave comments on all of the posts we read. Really. Every.One. Make your presence known! Leave happy, kind, polite, grateful and supportive comments when you read what someone took the time to write. I'm not saying you have to agree with everyone... because wouldn't life be boring if we all agreed with each other all the time? But I bet it would make someone's day if they got a slew of unexpected comments on a post. Or even just one unexpected comment. Don't you think?

Come on... let's spread some internet sunshine. Are you with me?

September Serendipi-Tea

One warm September afternoon I was invited to saunter over to my wonderful friend Jan's home to enjoy one of her quaint tea parties. Every party has a theme, and this month's was September Serendipity, which, as Jan pointed out, sounds quite a bit like September! Share-a-dip-of-tea. So we did.


To start things off we enjoyed shrimp scampi on sun-dried tomato crackers along with some sparkling strawberry pomegranate juice as we read aloud the morals from the Serendipity line of books. My favorite moral, ever since I was very little?

"Normal is whatever I am."

Next we feasted on spaghetti with meatballs and red sauce along with sourdough bread spread with pesto while admiring Jan's dishes and table decor.


For dessert we were served a splendid lemon sorbet in antique teacups along with snickerdoodle cookies. And then it was time for dress-ups. (What? It's not normal for grown ladies to play dress ups? Well, Normal Is Whatever I Am. So there.)


Jan gave us each a hat and pair of gloves to wear as we continued to eat and enjoy each other's company.


Don't they look charming? And so proper with their pinkies raised! After I took about a million pictures of the group, they insisted on taking one of me as well.


Pinkies up!


Jan then brought out this delicately beautiful hat which had been her aunt's and had us all try it on.


I thought it particularly suited Nadine and complimented her seashell necklace very nicely.


I think it is fair to conclude that we all had quite a serendipitous day.