Baking with Nana

Hello bloggers, tonight I am wishing all a great holiday experience. I know that is a funny wording and I am not saying "holiday" to be politically correct. I believe that this season is about the birth of our Savior, period, but my message is about the whole holiday season and experience.

One of the traditions at our house is that regardless of where we spend Christmas, I always am the baker of the rolls. Every other year we stay here and celebrate with our family and any grandparents who want to join us. On those years I make a whole turkey feast including my homemade rolls. On the other year (which is happening this year) we travel to Eastern Washington and spend Christmas Eve with my fam and Christmas Day with the rest of the Dudleys. On those years my contribution to the Dudley feast is homemade rolls.

That is the history leading up to why I find myself on this Sunday baking a batch of rolls. The rest of that history involves my Nana, thus the title of this blog. Nana is the one who taught me the fine art of yeast rolls. She gave me the recipe, but more importantly she showed me the way she was taught to make them, a family tradition. I still remember those many years ago in Nana's kitchen learning this art. She was so patient and let me do everything, even crack the eggs. She showed me the proper way to make them into rolls and every little detail. I remember her apron getting all dusted with flour. I remember the smell of the yeast. I remember how she said to knead the dough until it was as "smooth as a baby's bottom". I remember it all. The reason I remember is because I helped her make them many many times. She really did want me to learn how to make them and I'm so glad she did. Each time I make a batch I think of Nana. She passed from this earth in February of 1990 and I still miss her very much. I am sure that the folks in Heaven are enjoying a nice batch of homemade rolls as we speak. I feel Nana's presence each time I make them. Thank you Nana for passing along a tradition to me and for being my Nana.

Dudster

An early blog before blogs were invented

Hello fellow bloggers!

Tonight I am rerunning one of my Christmas letters because I had a conversation with a friend the other day about being a Grinch and it reminded me of this letter I sent out in 2000. Let me set the stage. In Dudleyland, we were living in Salem, we had all of our kids. Tyler was 11, Trent was 8 and Megan was 2. Below is what I sent out as our Christmas letter for Christmas 2000:

Ode to the Grinch

Everyone down in Salem liked Christmas a lot

But the Grinch who lived just west of Salem did not.

Hate isn't the word, "dread" describes it better,

the shopping, the baking and of course that letter.

It could be she didn't quite know where to start.

It could be, perhaps, she didn't have the heart.

But whatever the reason, no one dared ask,

she sat there in November dreading the task.

A half marathon in January had Annie's fingers nervously drumming,

gale force wind and rain made the whole experience quite numbing.

Basketball, baseball, football and soccer for the boys boys boys...

driving them to and from, watching oh the joys joys joys!

In March there was an Elmo cake and lots of presents too.

Little Meggie Moo is now more than two.

Trent turned eight with a party at the gym,

quite the little man, we're sure proud of him.

Summer was filled with trips of camping and the beach,

spending time with grandparents is a goal we like to reach.

Bruce and Annie ran Hood to Coast, a tradition they wish to keep,

they had a blast and remain married despite many miles and lack of sleep.

Bruce spent two weeks in Hawaii, that military duty is quite a chore,

Annie hopes to join him next year frolicking on the shore.

Wizard friends joined Tyler for a Harry Potter birthday.

He's eleven now, our young man gets bigger every day.

That brings us to November, where the Grinch, with a grin

said "I'll skip the dumb letter" her voice with chagrin.

When she heard a small sound rising over her gloom,

it wasn't a sad sound or the voice of doom.

It was her little blonde daughter, her voice filled with love,

singing "Jesus loves me" like the coo of a dove.

And the Grinch sat perplexed at her blank piece of paper,

was this the true meaning of the whole Christmas caper?

It wasn't about presents or baking or a letter,

the reason for Christmas was oh so much better.

She composed a quick poem to give to all of you,

with the strength of ten grinches, plus two!

Merry Christmas to all our loved ones and have no doubt,

this message to you: Remember what Christmas is about.

So, that was my Christmas wish back in 2000 and remains pertinent this year too. Sometimes it seems like all the activity of Christmas can be overwhelming, but try to remember the true sentiment of Christmas. I hope you are all enjoying the season.

Dudster

Saying goodbye to a friend

I have been anticipating a goodbye, which I don't think is a good thing for me as I don't like goodbyes, per se. I pretty much hate them. It's kinda funny because I spent the better part of my early life, let's say 18 years in the same town and didn't have a lot of these horrible things that people speak of called "goodbyes". Ew, they should be called badbys, they hurt, they make my eyes leak and my heart hurt.

I shall spare you all the next few years of my life which were peppered with goodbyes since I ended up marrying a military guy. I managed to survive each one, but never really mastered the art. I made some really good friends along our military route. I have conjured up a lot of memories of each of them as I write this blog. I think that might be a sign that although I don't enjoy the goodbye, I do remember the friendship and even keep in touch with them as well.

Alas, that brings me to the goodbye that this title speaks of, it is of my dear friend John Stumbo. I have known that he was going to leave our church for a while, but it doesn't make his departure any less painful. I don't want to hash out his tenure at our church because it would take up too much space and I could never do it justice. Suffice to say that today he said that he can't understand all the people saying to him how much they have been blessed by him because he feels so blessed by being apart of this thing called Salem Alliance. Salem Alliance has been blessed beyond this blog and any other articulation by John Stumbo. Pause here for tears...

So, on this day of him packing his final things in his office which is a few feet from my cubicle... I sat at my desk and wandered over to his office to pop off occasionally. It was a good vibe. We'd had our goodbyes and I wasn't feeling particularly weepy, just kinda flipping him crap. At one point I went in his office and noticed a really cool triangle shaped metal ruler in one of his boxes. I picked it up and commented that it was nifty. It was quite nifty, btw, one of those cool old ones. Anyway, late in the day out comes Stumbo... he says "Anyone with an eclectic work space like you that comments on this, deserves to have it." He handed me the cool ruler. I told him that I didn't need it and he should keep it, I was just commenting on it and it was from Minnesota, so he should keep it. He casually says "it was from my Dad's office" He wanted me to have it. It was such a very non-event and yet it was an event. Here was John giving me something that had been his Dad's in such a casual way... it was perfect in that our friendship has always been that way. I don't need to give the details, but basically John gets me and I get him.

A bit later, he was leaving for good and I offered to help carry boxes out to his car. He said he'd love me to help. I did and his assistant Kathy helped too, he told a funny story about his recently purchased car and a speeding ticket, it was all very casual and normal... we loaded his car and he drove off. I will miss my friend. I will see him again, I know this, but I will miss him so much. As Josh Mann said (our Middle School Pastor) John has a quality of occupying an inordinate amount of space in people's hearts. I think that is a good quote. I know that is true with me. I will miss him very much. I continue to pray that he will run again and that he will be healed.

Good bye John. See you later. You have touched my heart in knowing you. I will never be the same.

The busyness of life

Sooo, the title of this blog might give you a general idea, but basically here's the dealio yo! Fall around the Dudley house is chaotic at its most boring time and just plain crazy at its peak. We have 2 boys in Cross Country, one in college at Whitworth and one in high school at West Salem.

Pause for commercial: Go Pirates!!!!!!!! Go Titans!!!!!!!!

Let's just say that we are fans. We go to every meet that we can. Tyler doesn't run near us as often as we like, but we get to a few a season and we go to all of Trent's. Let's just add to that mix, just cuz. I also referee volleyball. That consumes much of my September thru mid November.

This particular fall I decided to start officiating college again, so that added to the mix a bit. Suffice to say, my goofy little uniforms are quite familiar with the inside of my washer and dryer.

As if enough Dudleys weren't busy enough, Bruce is traveling all over with his drug dealing job. Ok, you all know that he is a Pfizer Pharmaceutical District manager right? It sounds so much cooler to say drug dealer, anyway, he's occupied a few hours a week doing that. I work 40 hours a week also, so we are busy, to say the least.

The other component to this mix is Megan, our darling youngest. She doesn't do a fall sport, yet anyway. She does like volleyball, but being a 7th grader, they don't play it until Winter. What does occur for her in the fall, however, are the sign ups for the 3, count them, 3 things she does want to do during winter. There is her school volleyball for 7th graders, there is the club volleyball, which she's done for the last 2 years and there is Skyball which is the middle school basketball program in Salem.

The emails and flyers and phone calls begin around mid October. I corner Megan; "Are you sure you want to do basketball this year, even though both volleyballs are at the same time?" She assures me that she does. I push a bit more, "honey, this is a lot of time you are committing to, are you really sure you want to do it all?" Yep, she does. So, I go to the bad cop and enlist his help. I figure if I employ Big Bad Daddy onto the scene, I'm golden. He'll lay down the law and we'll be back down to a manageable 2 sports per season per kid quota that we've managed for.... EVER!!!

Well, guess what? Mr. Softie tells me, and I quote: "We'll make it work, I'll help out, she deserves to play basketball like the boys did." Well, that's fine and dandy, except the boys never played volleyball on TWO teams while they also played basketball!! Awesome!

Fast forward to November aka now! Last week Megan had tryouts for Middle school volleyball, tryouts for Skyball, 2 nights she had to volunteer at church for her fundraiser, she also got sick (bonus) and oh yeah, did I mention that Mr. Softie, Big Bad Daddie, aka bad cop was in New York? Awesome! And with a perfect double switch, don't even still know how it happened??? I am the assistant coach of her basketball team! Tryouts for the club team are in a week, I'm just praying I don't wake up on the next day with a volleyball tattoo on my lower back.

You know, it's my life. I gripe, but I love it. I attended the coaches meeting tonight and I'm already thinking of drills in my head and dreaming of high fives and victories... I love my kids, it's what I do.

My Tyler

Today my blog is a tribute to my number one child. 21 years ago today almost to the minute at the beginning of writing this, I gave birth to Tyler Scott Dudley. He weighed 8 lbs. 2 oz and was born at 5:24 pm in Richland, WA. I will spare you the gory details, but suffice to say, after 20 hours, I was glad the giant headed kid had finally made his grand entrance.

Tyler was one of those babies who gave instant feedback to all who were there. He was very bright-eyed and stared at you, almost like he knew a secret. He immediately stole my heart, that's for sure. Bruce wasn't able to be there for the birth, he was at the Officer Advance course at Ft. Ben Harrison in Indianapolis. Tyler was born before Skype was invented so we overnighted a VHS tape to him of the birth. I can't imagine how surreal it was for him to become a dad over the phone and via video taped images. 10 days later Tyler and I flew out to meet Daddy for the first time. (That was adventure worthy of its own blog entry, maybe some day)

We spent 6 months in Indy where I was home with Tyler while Bruce attended his Army school. It was a very special time for me and I still look back on those days fondly. Tyler basically trained me in the art of mothering, he was such an easy baby and we settled into a routine and it really does seem like only yesterday that he was my little infant cooing and projectile vomiting his baby barf everywhere.

Ladies at the store would often stop and goo goo over him as I do to other young moms now. They would always say "Enjoy him while he's a baby, before you know it he'll be all grown up." I used to smile politely but inside would think that they were a little off their rockers. Well, guess what, the crazy old ladies were right and now I've turned into one of them. My little baby is a big grown up college student who still delights us, doesn't barf on us anymore, but makes us very proud. The time went by in the blink of an eye.

Happy Birthday Ty Ty, your mom loves you.

My Great Auntness

Today I am a great aunt. Actually, on October 15th I became a great aunt. I have been an aunt since October 5th of 1987. On that day, my darling nephew Curtis was born. I was nowhere near the scene of the crime. It killed me. I was in another country, Germany to be precise. In those very ancient and olden of days, we didn't have internet or twitter or any of that. I had to rely on the good old fashioned telephone. I was very excited when I heard the news. I wasn't really a "hands on" aunt at that point. I did receive a video at some point of him rolling over. It was great, he would roll and roll and roll (only one way, he hadn't mastered the reverse yet). I was really happy to see the nephew I had yet to meet, but mind you, I'd not seen my other family members for a year and was anxious to see them... but no, all I saw was Curtis rolling around on the carpet and an occasional knee or ankle. I remember watching that 45 minute video and saying, "oh, there is Nana's cane and her lower leg... wish I could see her face..."

Fast forward to Curtis' son being born. Facebook is now in play. I knew that Siera was having some blood pressure issues and was praying. The due date was a couple weeks away and she was on bed rest. Then, all of a sudden we are having a baby.

I had a volleyball match that night. I get done refereeing and have 3 missed calls from Judy. Too late to return her calls. I get home and Bruce has a message from dad, Grandpa Hall. Judson was born, 4 lb. 9 oz. I immediately question this. I think that someone has screwed up the numbers because they would have a huge and healthy baby. Too late to call home and verify, I sit on my data. Next morning I check in with Judy and get the poop. Little buddy was indeed only 4 lb 9 oz. due to having his cord all tangled up. He had stopped growing and thanks go God's great plan had been born earlier than scheduled because Mom had high blood pressure, most assuredly saving his life. Praise be to God. I know that You have a plan for Judson. I am sure he will do great things for the Kingdom. I am so excited to watch Your plan unfold. For right now, I cannot wait until I get to hold my little great nephew.

Great Aunt Annie is basking in the glow of Great Auntdom..

Inside the Referee's brain

I apologize if the title of this blog scares any of you, if it does, that is probably a good instinct and you should listen to it. I am not undergoing brain surgery where you can peer into my brain literally, but I am going to attempt to provide you a little insight as to the many many thoughts I have while I am refereeing and cannot articulate.

I have been refereeing volleyball since my oldest child was a baby. He turned one during my rookie year. He will be turning 21 in a couple weeks, so quick math will tell you that I've been at this a while. This doesn't automatically mean that I'm the best official out there, believe me, I've seen folks who have been doing this longer than me and are not firing on all pistons. I am not cocky, by any stretch of the imagination, but I have a pretty decent resume when it comes to this goofy vocation of mine. At the very least, I read the rule book and pass a test every year in order to be in the association and get assignments. I know the rules quite well. At any rate, I had this thought the other night (during a match, actually) that I wish I could say aloud the things in my head during matches. It would be very unprofessional, but I think it would make me feel better. I can blog some of them so here goes:

The following are things that I have thought silently during matches over the last 20 years:

• Coach: What was in the net? Me: Her giant bosom was in the net coach, can you not see that she looks like Dolly Pardon? Really?

• Coach: Are you sure she was in the net? Me: Um, yeah and even if I weren't I'm pretty sure there is some DNA proof still in the net, but thanks for asking.

• Coach: How was that a lift? Me: Well, short of her hand actually being an elevator in Great Britain? It was a lift in every other way imaginable.

• Coach: Call it both ways! Me: Gee coach, I'd love to but seeing as how the other team is way more skilled than your team, I can only just call the crappy stuff I see, sorry.

• Coach: You calling their setter more than my setter is giving their team an unfair advantage! Me: Actually, their setter being way better than your setter is giving their team an unfair advantage. It's called winning.

• Coach, yelling to her team: Don't worry about the calls, they are just homering us because we're from Redmond! Me: Coach, you're not getting homered you're getting beat, now sit down and shut up! Oops, that one actually snuck out of my head and right out of my mouth, my bad! She did sit down and the Athletic Director from the home school laughed his head off!

• Coach: How is that a back row attack? Me: After I explained the rule verbally to the mental midget... You wouldn't have to worry about your tall gangly horrible setter back row attacking if your horrible defensive passers could dig a ball without overpassing to the net every freaking time! Try coaching them a little more and nagging me a little less.

• Coach: Stands up and gives me the smirk. Me: Oh Hell to the no! (I gave him a card) He ranted some more, I gave him my best Cesar Millan hand gesture to sit and then in my head... Would you like a critique? How about you teach your girls to pass, set, serve, transition, cover, not dump all the time and just basic volleyball skills. I think you'd be a much happier "little, little man" if your team weren't so crappy!

These are just a few of the pearls of wisdom that float around my head. I'd love to vomit them all out to you, but some are, let's face it, not for blogger ears. I am still sorta sane and still love officiating. I have more good matches where I leave quite happy with no inside thoughts I wanted to share. The nights where my "inside voice" comes out are few and far between, but make for good stories.

Dudster has left the gymnasium!

Megan's Secret

As many of you know, I have 3 children. Two boys and one darling girlie girl. Here is the thing: I am NOT a girlie girl. I don't like shopping, I never have. I have shopped and I have bought things and I do like it when I get home and have new things, but the adventure of shopping has just never grabbed on to me. My poor daughter does like shopping. She also likes planning, another thing I'm not too crazy about.

Let's rewind to earlier this week. I arrive home from a volleyball match that went long. Let's just say, it was after 10:00 pm when I limped through the door. I was assessing the damage to the domaine. Not too bad. I put the few dishes in the sink, I gave a quick sweep of the family room and this note pad caught my eye... It said, and I quote: "Things to do before school" Oh boy, a list, my fave! It was in Megan's neat script:

Get school supplies

Go to Rue 21

Get a haircut

So, my mommy heart is gripped and I declare that I shall make the list happen. I had a volleyball tourney on Saturday and worked at church Sunday morning, but Sunday afternoon would be a "Mommy and Moo" day. Yay!!

We set out to the Lancaster Mall which inhabits the store "Rue 21" It actually was quite pleasant, got a pair of shoes and a cute sweatshirt for a nice price. We left there in search of a hair cut place and found one. Got Megs a very nice "7th grade haircut". I was feeling like this trip was gonna be fairly painless. We still needed to hit Target for school stuff, but was feeling good. As we're walking back toward the car, Megan saw these sweats in Victoria's Secret. I said, "Megan, I will not buy you anything out of Victoria's Secret". I may have added a "whore" in the pronunciation.

We laughed about my pronunciation and left the mall Target bound. We found the school supply stuff we needed and also made a lap through the underwear department for Megan's age. I grabbed a package of her size with the bonus (7 pack). We got home and as she was unpacking all her booty she came downstairs and told me that I'd grabbed the "day of the week" undies. Well, Megan, I guess that's our little secret. No pun intended. She is still my little girl and she can wear cute little undies, if I'm still buyin' right?

So, Megan's secret is that she has no reason to forget what day it is. My secret is that I still don't like shopping, but I love my little Lovie. I love that she understands my hatred of shopping and she appreciates my efforts toward that end.

Dudster

From the Hood to the Coast

This weekend marked the 12th Hood to Coast I've taken part in. Hood to Coast, for those who don't know is a 197 mile relay race that starts on Mt. Hood (Timberline Lodge) and ends at the coast in Seaside, OR. It is a 12 person team which divides up into 2 vans. It takes anywhere from 17 hours for the freakishly fast to 30 something hours for the slower, more sensible souls.

My team this year was the Stumbo's Prayer Warriors. This was our second year together, with a couple of minor changes to the roster. The most important component to our team is that we're named for John Stumbo and we pray for him and tell other teams about him during our race. When I first put in for a Salem Alliance team 2 years ago, my thought was to have a team of all staff. John was the first to commit that year, before we even knew if we got a team. You apply for a team in October and don't find out until November if you made the lottery. A couple of weeks after I sent in the forms in 2008, John was stricken with an illness that has wracked his body ever since and nearly took his life in November of '08. In fact, the day I found out we got in was a day I had just heard that John had taken a turn for the better. I took it as a good sign that day.

Well, John has fought this disease and made great strides in getting better, but he didn't get to run with us last year and unfortunately wasn't healthy enough to this year either. If you would like to read more about John and his journey you can check out his blog at johnstumbo.org/blog. This year we tagged other vans with magnets that said "You've been prayed for!" Then it had our team name and John's blog info. We actually did pray for them. It was good.

Some highlights of this year:

1. Kara Brown Sound. For those of you who know Kara, you needn't read on, if you don't... suffice to say she is the tiniest little ball of energy that packs the biggest punch ever! She whoops and hollers and shrieks... let's just say. During the first leg, maybe the second, I said, "Hey Kara, we don't have to actually scream for every runner we see, we're gonna pass like 8000 during the race, if we narrow it down to maybe just our runner as we pass, maybe we can visit here in the van with each other." She adjusted, although she doesn't have a voice as of the writing of this blog, so yeah, there was a lot of "Brown Sound"
2. Kara in the window:Relating to the #1 of this blog, Kara was hanging out the window to yell at Melissa as we passed her on her second leg. Bruce was driving and not so good with the buttons on the van, started putting a window up. It happened to be the one Kara was hanging out of. Melissa said she heard Kara yelling and then she heard "Ow, Ow Ow!" Yeah, Bruce rolled her up in the window.
3. Granola Chronicles: Erik (w/a K) the famous one, was in our van and brought, among other things a giant bag of bulk granola, became the joke because he offered it up so much. Randomly, one of us would say, "If only I had some granola" Turned out, around leg 3 one of us dug in and it was really good. At one of the big stops, I think the St. Helens fairgrounds, me and Melissa and Shannon were talking about various world problems and very deep conversations, solved a LOT of issues. Melissa grabs the bag, quite violently, and granola explodes as if a pinata has just been busted. I was not amused. Melissa was horrified. After the clean up ensued, it turned out that the "bulk" of the bulk granola had landed in Erik's crap he'd left out anyway, so I guess Karma w/a K bit Erik right in the...oh you get my drift.
4. Quote of the trip: Early in the race, the best quote emerged. It was my son who said it, but Erik agreed, so I can take nepotism out of the equation. Scenario: Jerry had been giving Trent a hard time saying that he couldn't run so as not to make our van too fast and the times uneven. Later, we were talking about it and Trent pipes up "Nobody puts Baby in the corner" We laughed profusely and later declared that "Baby" road killed 103 people so was our unofficial mass murderer.
5. Hogging the Honey Bucket: All is fair in HTC and fellow runners, so I can freely share that Erik was having some tummy troubles... precisely, well, he had enough Imodium on board to keep a herd of elephants from pooping for a week. At one point in the race, Erik looked over and said "I gotta stop" We stopped and of course the line was a mile long. I stood in it with him, because I had to go #1. He goes in and I do shortly after. I get out and decide to wait and walk him back to the van. I wait... and I wait... I finally start keeping track of which door doesn't open of the dozen Honey Buckets in the line. It quickly becomes quite evident which one Erik occupies. The others have a steady flow to and fro of happy runners. And the one stands there, almost lifting off the ground like a space shuttle. Finally, Erik comes out and looks like he's got no cares in the world. I ask him "Did you have lift off?" He gives me a little smirk and says "Oh yeah" THAT, marks one of the funniest things ever, in my HTC memory book. Poop happens folks and at Hood to Coast, your race revolves around it.
6. Prayer Times: As I mentioned, we are the Prayer Warriors and this year in addition to praying for John, we also added praying for other teams we had tagged with our magnets. Erik wrote down people he was praying for on his arm. We had kept track of team names who we'd tagged so he wrote them down plus others he had. We were walking to the start of his last leg and saw a van with a Stumbo Prayer Warrior magnet on it. Erik said, "Oh, they're on my list to pray for this leg" I told him he should tell them that and show them. He went up to their window and told them. The guy said "So, are you coming for us?" Real defensive like. Erik said, "No, I'm praying for you, see, I wrote it on my arm" He said, "Oh, thanks" Then, of course I had to add, "But we're coming for you too"
7. Paging Van 1: It's hard to explain all the ins and outs of HTC, but at the big exchange points, that is to say, the ones where van 1 meets van 2 and visa versa, it gets a bit tricky. At one this race, though, we were actually behind our van going in and we were the "running van" and they were the "handing off to van". We used the walkie talkie to call them and say that we were right behind them. That sounds innocent enough, except that Erik (w/a K) of course took the helm. He took on the character of some sort of southern gent, perhaps Louisiana or Texas or Arkansas. Doesn't really matter, but he went into a series of radio messages that we thought were hilarious! The other van stopped responding. Well, they were only a few yards in front of us, so Erik took the radio up and got into their van and talked to them. They were a bit groggy and not as pumped on adrenaline as us and well, when Erik came back he said "They weren't as receptive to the message as we might have thought" Note to self: Remember how you are when you've just woken up and have to run... not nearly as energetic as when you are just ending up your runs. (Sorry Van 1) My abs still hurt though, from laughing.
8. Road Kills vs. Road Killed: Bruce had this bright idea to keep track of, not only our road kills which are how many people you pass on your run. This is a very common thing that HTC people do on their vans. Bruce thought to also keep track of how many times you were road killed. Great theory, I like how you're thinking, but quickly we were becoming mass murdered. Ugh, I hate losing. We did it, though, cuz we started it. We were down a bunch. Then Trent ran a leg, he's my boy and an amazing runner. He killed 31 in his first leg. Awesome, we were almost back up to even. His last leg was an awful 7.3 mile beast where no van could give you aid and it was the heat of the day. He resisted to wear a water belt and took off. We went to the next exchange and when he finished, we got his time. 6:18 per mile pace. He said "I killed 72 people" We were all like "Trent, you avenged all of our kills!" It was awesome. So fun.
9. Prayer Running: Of all the great memories of this race, I think the one that stands out to me the most is the leg I ran, probably because it's about me!!!! Just kidding, but some truth to that. I only ran one leg, following the orders of my PT. I ran the night run of Leg 9 which is only 5 miles, but a pretty decent hill and a gravel road which is dusty. I haven't been training as much as usual, so when I pushed it my lungs were crying out. The dust only added to that. At first, adrenaline was pumping, I was booking along and felt great, plus I love running at night. Then the dust and the fact that I was running faster than I had been kicked in. My lungs were burning. My internal voice was talking to me. "Why are you struggling right now?" "Focus on something else." I thought, "Pray, dummy, that's the name of your team, pray for something" Then it hit me... "Your lungs are hurting, gee, pray for John's lungs," which I had just learned about the day before. I did, I prayed for John's lungs and for the spots to go away or be nothing. I segued into praying for muscle strength and complete healing and for him to run again. It got me through. It's amazing how focusing on someone else can get you through. By the way, there was a runner behind me from like 1.5 to 2 miles from the finish, just hanging there. I didn't mind. We passed a bunch of people together. We got to the little sign that says we're approaching the handoff, so we have like 150 meters to the end and I hear this speed up of feet behind me... immediately my mind says "Heck to the no!" I shall not let this person who has used me for the last 2 miles to out kick me. I had this thought in my head that Stumbo would NOT let someone beat him in the last little bit. I freaking started sprinting and so did they and I ran into that exchange point at full speed and handed off to Erik... btw, I won. That wasn't the best part though, the best part was God talking to me through my lungs. I love running at night and He met me there in the dust. I couldn't see, my head lamp just reflected off the dust and I was blinded, but I could see and hear and I knew what to pray for. Thanks God for meeting me there.

So, I think that completes my memories of HTC 2010. Stumbo's Prayer Warriors represented well. There are talks of next year already... my captain heart is weary. I said to Bruce today, "I don't know if I want to put in for it next year, it's so much work" He replied "What if you didn't, and John could run, how would you feel?" Ok, I guess I'm putting in for it... after all "Run John Run" is our statement of faith right?

My era

Hello bloggers,

This morning I pulled into my favorite Dutch Bros. Oh yeah, I'm cool like that, it's Bros, not Brothers. Anyway, the 2 young girls in there know me, they knew my drink right away... they are quite young and cute and I like them. When I pulled up they said "We are listening to 90's on Ninety! It's so awesome!!!!" Immediately, my, very coffee lacking brain said "Oh dear, the 90's represented a LOT of baby barf and poop... think, Annie, think, what bands played then... About then, the cute blonde one said "I am soooo glad that we had the "Backstreet Boys" and not Justin Bieber. My muddled brain says, "Oh yes Bieber is a boob!" Beyond that, I got nuthin!

Brain sputtering into function... "oh yes", I say. A bit audibly over the motor of my car... as I still am randomly accessing the very far recesses of my brain... the other very cute girl says, "I absolutely worshipped The Backstreet Boys, I loved them!" I nod a bit, still reeling from the first comment. Then the inevitable happens... "Who did you worship?" ... Pregnant pause... well, if you were to "google" when I was a teen, you would see Shawn Cassidy and Leif Garrett and some others. But, for me... I was not your average teen. I actually was quite enamored with Sly Stallone as Rocky for one, but when asked this morning I told the ladies that I wasn't the normal teen and actually loved sports figures and told them Magic Johnson. This was a true statement. I had posters of him on my wall. I also had running posters of Mary Slaney. I wasn't your normal teen-aged girl.

I wasn't a normal girl, but chose to follow Jesus at the age of 17 and can look back on that time in my life and thank God for His perfect timing. With posters of '80's lakers and Rocky Balboa on my bedroom walls, God chose to call me to Him. Thank you Jesus. I look back on that time fondly. Dutch Bros girls... my music might not have been as cool as yours, but I am so happy about that perfect timing in my life. Jesus chose me then. Thank you Lord.

Dudster

The baby season

Don't let the title scare you, I'm not trying to get into the National Enquirer for the oldest broad in the states to get pregnant... we've cauterized that bridge, ahem, sorry for the bad vasectomy joke. No, I begin this blog as I have been journeying with a few friends over the last several months who are adopting kids. I have read blogs, heard prayers, witnessed tears and many other moments of long journeys of friends to "have" their babies.

Yesterday, while running, it occurred to me that as I was a young married and had friends who were having kids and all the "terms" we threw around. It all seemed so normal and everyone talked about how many weeks along they were, how big the baby was, how much weight had we gained, what names we had picked out. The terminology was that of couples having babies, couples getting pregnant and carrying a baby to full term and giving birth. A great journey!

So, the terms I'm learning now are a bit different. I hear the words dossier, referral, waiting list, all these things are just as big of milestones as the first and second and third trimester. The plane ticket they will buy when they get the message that they can visit their baby in Ethiopia... THAT is a way bigger thing than buying a Johnny Jump Up!

Basically, the thought I have on my endorphin induced blog is that at this stage of my life, I love that my friends are going through the pregnancy and childbirth stories of my younger years. I love that their stories are going to be told over and over again, reliving that birth like we mamas love to do. I love that some very special babies are going to be loved forever and the best part: I get to meet them and babysit! Spoil them at the Dudleys and send them home.

Thanks for listening to my ramblings and good luck friends, you know who you are.

Dudster (aka, free babysitter)

Growing old gracefully

I'm back! I have been a bit remiss in that I haven't blogged in a while. I had thoughts to here and there but lacked motivation. I shall talk today about a recent run I had. Oh yes, I'm officially among the "runners" again. I'm still a bit limited, but I can leave my house and do an entire loop now without having to stop as ordered by my physical therapist.
So, the first time I ventured onto my 4 mile loop, which my boys love to tell me is really only 3 and a half or so. Whatever! I am chugging along and stop to stretch my calf; this is what I tell myself, but in actuality the lack of running has made my need for oxygen a bit more of an urgency than it used to be. So, while I'm, oh let's call it "gasp stretching". Yes, while I'm gasp stretching I see something out of the corner of my eye. It's a jogger coming up behind me. Immediately I think "Oh, heck to the no!" I take off running and can't tell if he's gaining on me or not. I get to a light, crud, it's red! As I press the button, I casually glance around and he's right there, dang you jogger boy! We both take off when the light turns green and I'm ahead of him. Once I round the corner onto Titan, so does he and my lungs are trying to get me to stop and gasp stretch, but my Seabiscuit brain is yelling at me, perhaps even whipping me with a riding crop... But I digress, so then we're at my street and I'm like, "no freaking way!" Turns out he lives 2 houses down from me. He started walking WAY before I did, so technically I won. Odds are he has no idea we were racing, but a win is a win.
What is that saying... Victory before the.... swallow! Oh, yeah, I'm gasp stretching in my driveway and a bug flies down my throat. Not all the way down, just to the, oh I'm not a Dr. let's call it the chokey part! I start violently coughing and gagging to the point where my son opens the front door and asks if I'm all right. I'm sure loser jogger boy is still telling everyone about the crazy old lady who ran so hard to beat him that she started vomiting when she got to her house. Whatever jogger boy, you tell your version and I'll tell mine... I'm pretty sure we all know who won and it wasn't the bug.
So there you have it, I blogged again, I'm running again. All is well.

Dudster

Today was a good day

Today was a good day because I participated in the first annual "Stumbo Walk and Munch". My good friend John Stumbo has been battling a mysterious illness for a year and a half. He defied death in November of 2008 and has struggled with loss of major muscle strength and the ability to swallow. Recently, God healed his swallow issue. If you'd like a way more articulate and interesting account of these things, please visit John's blog at Salemalliance.org and then click on the John Stumbo Blog.

Today was a celebration for his recent swallowing, thus, the "munch" portion of the festivities. More importantly, it was a time for some of the followers of his blog to get together and meet. As it turned out, there were quite a few folks who showed up. I'm terrible with guesstimating, but suffice to say that parking at riverfront park was quite full today. A few folks in attendance ventured a guess at over 200. I would be interested to hear from the Great Harvest staff to see how many cookies they handed out.

The reason I titled this "A good day" is because a bunch of folks gathered together to celebrate a miracle. We have all been praying and journeying with John and God provided a very tangible reward for us all. We got to witness our buddy John walk 2 miles today and sip on a drink and speak to us all (while standing on a precarious chair).

A year and a half ago we were all begging God to spare his life. I have a recollection that is so vivid in my mind, when I go back there... I begged God, I shed so many tears that my eyes throbbed. To this day, this minute, when I call up those days in my memory, I tear up. It was a time in my life that I'll never forget. God met me there though, He did. In my absolute helplessness, my God met me there and today... He showed me the answer to those prayers. Oh, how He loves us.

So yes, today was a good day. And, by the way, the sun shone... another miracle of sorts in Oregon these days. The sun shone and God's love shone brightly. One of the walkers talked to a lady who was there, not attached to the group, but there and asked her what was the crowd about. Well, when told about John's story, she shared that her nephew had been stricken with an illness which made him unable to swallow and she said she received hope from this. What are the odds that this woman would be at Great Harvest and strike up a conversation on this day at this time? Thank you God for, not only using John in so many ways, but also for this lady and her family. You are so good.

My last thought on this is that this event can morph into an annual event... I see a fun run in the future. I think it must be a fun run/walk and am not sure where the funds will go to, but I think that our John Stumbo will most certainly be involved in it somehow.

Dudster

Injured Reserve and shuffling to the iPod.

Ok, I must start this blog off with a warning:

This blog may contain trace amounts of whinage and sniffling and may cause any of the following side effects; empathy, disdain, irritation (general), apathy, and in rare cases extreme happiness (sicko). That should satisfy the lawyers, now onto some bloggin!

I have been a runner for all of my adult life. I started out as a competitive runner in high school and college and continued racing on and off throughout my adulthood. I have run 2 marathons, several halfs and I believe last year was my 10th Hood to Coast. I love running, it makes me happy. I've heard all of you non runners and your very witty and almost never unique quips about us crazy runners. I get it, I'm not super normal, but I can't change the fact that God wired me to love running.

In November I was in New York with a bunch of our church staff and I walked like 100 blocks in one day. Btw, I know I exaggerate sometimes, but this would not be one of those times, we literally walked a hundred NYC blocks. And my brilliant self was wearing street shoes, albeit comfy ones, they were not super comfy after that much walking. Anywho, I have had a nice case of Plantar Fasciitis ever since. It's a pretty common injury to most long time runners and I started right in doing all the stuff that runners do when they get this dreaded thing. No improvement. I bought a DVD off of some fancy running website, did all the stuff that guru told me too, short of drinking the Kool aide. No improvement.

Finally, I decided to go to a physical therapist. He is having me do a series of stretches and exercises and when he explained things, it makes sense. He also does this delightful thing where he scrapes the scar tissue with this device I shall call "The bad tool", it hurts like a mother. I'm all bruised when I leave, but my heel feels better. Last session he said that if I can continue to do all the stuff he's having me do and be pain free then I can start the "return to running" program. He said it would be an exercise in patience. Perfect, because I am so very patient... yikes.

So, armed with this new hope and a smidge of sunshine today, I decided to go for a walk. I've been walking, but this time I felt like maybe today would be my last walk and next time I would be run/walking. iPod was strapped in place and off I went. First song on my shuffled playlist: "Born to Run" by Bruce Springsteen. Ha, good one. Thanks Bruce, I know that, but I kinda can't now.

Off I plodded. I motored up Titan, which is the decent hill that starts most of my runs/walks, stopping to do my mandatory stretching. Turning the corner, I spot a jogger. This is always trouble, I'm like Seabiscuit in that when I smell the competition, I just want to beat them. This person was running toward me so the urge to run faster passed when they passed, but the song that came on: "Ready to Run" by the Dixie Chicks. Why yes I am, Chicks from the Dixie, but I cannot.

Then I turned around at the half way mark. I was clipping along pretty well, at least as much clipping as can happen when you're walking. (sigh) Bam! Another runner, this time she passed me and yes you heard correctly, she. Ouch, that one stung a little, I'm not gonna lie. Song on the iPod: "Take me Home" by Phil Collins, the point in the song. "No, I, I, I don't mind, no I, I, I don't mind". Well actually Phil, I kinda do mind and this iPod as Jiminy Cricket is getting on my last nerve. If I want a little conscience as my guide, I'll get a cool one that tells me cool stuff, so yeah.

So, I picked up what was left of my pride and my plantar fascia and I slumped my way home and as I rounded the corner of my street and my house came into sight up on the iPod comes this song: "Everlasting God" by Lincoln Brewster. First lyrics are "Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord". Oh yeah, busted again Dudster! Just go ahead and try to do things your way, see how that works out for you. I guess maybe the iPod knows a little something, it kinda schooled me today. I will wait upon the Lord, but I will also act in faith and do what I can. I heard that message this week from John Stumbo. And by the way, my plantar fasciitis is pretty freaking small in the grand scheme of things in this life. I will figure this out with my trusty PT and I will run again. I will blog about it to be sure. Until then, I will be charging 5 bucks a pop for anyone who would like to listen to my playlist on shuffle and get a good talking to.

Dudster

The blog I almost couldn't write

Ok, I confess... I forgot my gmail address. I'm officially an old person. I had this thought to blog about my workspace attacking me (maybe another time) and I went to log on a couple nights ago, with the bruises to prove it. I went to the website and tried to log in. Coulda swore I used something related to Dudsterspot or close to that. Nope! I gave up. Shoulders slumped, went to bed. Grrrr. Not to be fooled, I tried again, this time armed with a few more ideas that managed to squeak their way out of my rusty brain. Nuthin!

Well, tonight, ahh, tonight I got serious, I went to the help page and they sent my username to my back up email and... Voila! Here I am. Of course, now I have nothing to say except that technology hasn't kicked my butt yet. It gave it a good try, but you have to get up pretty early to fool the Dudster. Nice try gmail, I'm WAY more resilient than that, I shall prevail!

For a future blog I may discuss my rather annoying work space that, although it's not capable of thinking and planning, I'm convinced it's out to get me. That's a teaser. Until next time... I will be writing down my username and password, no worries.

Dudster is out.

Mother's Day

I wanted to post a blog on this day of Mothers. I had a great Mother's Day! This Mother's Day I had this thought. I love being a mom, I pretty much believe it is one of the things God put me on this earth to be. He gave me 3 pretty awesome kids. I'm not gonna lie, I love my kids. I don't necessarily like all kids, but I really enjoy hanging out with mine. But my thought on this day was that there is no "kids' day" I realize, as a mom, that there are a lot of days devoted to kids for moms. The birthdays alone... the amount of time invested in my children's birthdays alone would probably be like a two week vacation at least. And yet, I don't regret one minute of planning, invitation making, cake building, treat buying... you get the idea. The times devoted to kids' "last minute projects" or "Mom, can you bring me ..." or the list could go on and on. I know our kids are pretty self-centered for a lot of their lives.

My epiphany today though, was more about the fact that I am so blessed to have my kids. I praise God for trusting me with them. I seriously had a moment today where I was driving and was thinking that God chose ME to be a mom to 3 amazing humans. Let me go into MC Hammer time and "Break it Down"

My Ty Ty: My oldest boy pretty much taught me the ins and outs of parenting. I married quite young (19) and at the age of 21 we decided to try to get pregnant. It took us a whole year. During that year we prayed for a baby. Of course, God had a plan much larger than our tiny one and at the exact moment we had our Tyler. So, at the ripe old age of 23, I had my first child. He was this very mellow baby who taught his mother how to get a kid on a schedule, how to be calm, how to chill out and be very methodical at parenting. Fast forward to now... Tyler, I love how you analyze things and are very straight forward and methodical in life, but I also love that you appreciate things like baked cookies and washed laundry. You are a good boy and you really did teach me a lot about being a mom. I know you will go forth and do great things.

Now enter second child. Trent was born on my 26th birthday. Another boy, God knew what he was doing with this Tomboy. The perfect baby, slept the night almost immediately. The thing I love about you Trent is that you are the most like me. You are friends to all you meet, you even look a little like me. You wrote a paper once that said you liked that I always could tell how you were feeling. You are my one kid who I feel most in tune with your emotions. You are hilarious and I think you will do great things for the Kingdom.

Child # 3: My little Meggie Moo, the thing to know about Megan is that she was not child # 3. I actually was pregnant with a baby due on November 9, 1996. I lost that baby on April 17, 1996. It was a horrible time, I, to this day remember driving home from the ultrasound appointment where I learned that my baby had died. Sorry to bring a damper on my Mother's Day Blog, but I feel like this information is pertinent. First, I get to meet my baby in Heaven. I think that his name is Jerad (like Jerald without the "l"), I had a dream just after my miscarriage and I'm convinced that I saw my baby boy, I can't describe it, but I am convinced, so I can't wait to meet him. So, that all being said, God had a plan for the Dudleys and it included Miss Meggie Moo! She came into this world in March of 1998. I feel like for a little comedy, I should share my "Annie watches too much TV/news" moment. Skipping the boring details, I had to have a C section to birth the giant 10 lb. baby. Well, this wasn't in my plan. So, in my drug induced, almost lucid moment, I told Bruce "Don't lose sight of the baby, I don't want her to be switched at birth." Well, being the obedient husband he is, he didn't, but when I later quizzed him and my parents (I had a back-up plan), it was comical. The only other babies in Salem Hospital were tiny little twin Latino babies. So, picture the nursery... two teeny little 5 lb brown babies and this giant white 10 lb princess! I know, I'm a bit paranoid.

Megan, I must address you now. I know why God entrusted you to me. You are such a tender heart and you love everyone and everyone loves you! Most importantly, you are in tuned to me and give me the "mommy feedback" I need. I love so much the things you choose to be. That is a quote from the Office, but it really does apply to you. I love you Lovie.

So, my Mother's Day/Kids' Day Blog must come to an end. Basically, I feel so honored to be trusted with my kids on this earth. "Father God, I can't begin to thank you for trusting me with these kids. I love you so much for the miracles that they are. I ask you for guidance and wisdom as we continue to raise them and thank you for what they have given to me."

My first Blaaaaaahg!

Well, look at me rocketing my old self into the 21st century, look out George Jetson, the Dudster is blogging. I figured I should start doing this for some odd reason.

Way back in 1989 when I was pregnant with Tyler (my first born man child) I began this Mother's Journal that my bestie Mary Jane gave me. I was pretty faithful journaling about my pregnancy and even on into the first few years of Tyler's life. Then came Trent (second born man child) and I even have a few entries in his early years. When my darling Meggie Moo came along, the entries got farther and farther apart, a bit more scattered and well, I don't know when the last time I wrote in there. So now, I can blog and some day my kids can dig this up and read about their crazy mom.

I am a big fan of The Office and so I really wanted to start a blog in a word document like Creed. My first official blog which I titled "Monday's Blaaaahg" I submitted in the form of an email to my friend Melissa at work. She sits 10 feet from me and I actually got to see her face as she read it. That was instant feedback, very nice, but again an email does not a blog make.

Sooo, here is the first official Dudster's Spot blog.