Duds family Christmas

Hello friends,

I have been anticipating this Christmas for a while. I didn't wait as long as Zechariah or anything... but suffice to say, I've been dreaming of a... Dudleys at home Christmas for a while. This is the year we go to grandparents for Thanksgiving and stay home at Christmas, it has become my favorite. This hasn't always been the case, but as my small family has grown, I have grown to appreciate the times we have together as very precious. I do love our extended families too and enjoy those years, but I do love my "off year/quieter year".

This year was a bit different in that I got lists from the kids early and did the bulk of my shopping online and was virtually done mid December. The baking was almost the same. I was a wonder woman... would come home each night and whip up a batch of confections... the freezer was filling, my closet was filling (that's where I stash the loot), I even got the annual Christmas letter/newsletter done at a decent timetable.

Fast forward to Christmas Eve... I'll start on the nitty gritty. We were lucky enough to have Bruce's folks join us, Gene and Rita. My in laws of almost 26 years. They're a hoot. They arrived on the 23rd. I guess we're backing it up a day... We all went out to Red Robin for dinner. Gene and Bruce play this game of "who will pay the bill?" It's super fun and all party goers should try it. This time Gene won, he told the waitress while he was ordering his beverage, HUGE rule breach. The funny "Dudley family folklore" was that he tried to pay with his driver's license. The waitress was really nice and he remedied his faux pax. In his defense, we had thrown our Red Robin Royalty card at him to get him a discount and that threw him, plus he volunteers at the jail every week and they make him provide his DL there. We didn't rule out a mini stroke though... I had my eye on him the rest of the night.

Ok, now we're at Christmas Eve. We spent the bulk of the day at home. Dinging around, visiting, I was preparing for our meal(s). Just a good day, my favorite kind, all my kids home, me cooking, my boys having a run. We all went to church at 5:00. All but Grandpa who had caught a bug, an immediate and really awful little cold like bug and coupled with some muscular chest issues he's dealing with was making him fairly miserable. Poor Gene-O, I felt awful for him. The rest of us enjoyed an amazing service at Salem Alliance Church. Complete with a rendition of "Oh Holy Night" that left us all dumbfounded by my buddy Logan.

We came home from service and had an awesome lasagna meal (if I do say so myself), we each opened one present, we began the annual "A Christmas Story" marathon that has graced our world for a few years now, thank you TBS.

Christmas Eve ended with most of the Dudleys going to bed and the "Lead Elf" aka "Mom" stuffing the stockings, eating the cookies that were left for Mr. Clause... actually, I put them into the tupperware with the others, I mean, I aint running these days, I can't afford cookie calories. Anyway, merriment was readied... I went to bed and woke up at 8:00 to put the giant bird in.

We had told Grandma and Grandpa to come at 10:00 f0r the presents. (they stay in a hotel, no room in the inn) I got up, wrangled the turkey, drank some coffee, watched the straggling family members stroll down. It's nice to have larger children (notice I didn't say 'more mature' children) who don't get up at 5:00 am to see what Santa brought. My larger and way NOT mature children all managed to get up and then Grandma and Grandpa came. We opened up the loot! It was amazing. Yay God!

You sent us Your Son on this blessed morning, thank You so much, we are all so not worthy. I felt compelled to add this, I make jokes and kid around, but Jesus, You really are the reason for the season... regardless of whether that rhymes. You rule my life. I love You, I worship You and You are the only reason that all of this Christmas craziness happens. I'm sorry it can seem like craziness to You. I hope You can see the sincerity that is in there too.

The present frenzy ended... it was great, we all LOVED everything! My favorite thing was that I decided to give each person in our house a letter of "Words of Affirmation" I spent weeks on this task, I loved it. I wrote a single page letter to each of my family telling them what they mean to me. From the heart, things I don't tend to say.. I highly recommend it to you all. I didn't anticipate the silence of the stocking opening when they each read theirs... it was a bit awkward, but also fun to watch their reactions. I had assumed they'd each read them later, but they each read them before they tore into their stockings. That ended the present portion of our celebration.

We gently moved into the "Dudleys shall hog out" portion of our program. I made my way to the kitchen and laid out the appetizers. Let the feeding frenzy begin. I then ensued onto the rest of the Christmas feast. When I post this blog on my FB page, cuz that's how cool I am yo! I shall tag all the people who had a part in our feast. To quote Bob Cratchit in ANY of the Scrooge knock offs... "To Mr. Scrooge, the founder of the feast"

We had a turkey dinner. I prepared a 24lb. bird. I also did homemade stuffing with sausage from my brother Marty. Awesome. I made a green bean casserole. Mashed potatoes, which my mommy taught me how to make before I could drive. I had home made yeast rolls from my Nana, who taught me everything about baking and also Bruce's Grandma McQuary who gave me her recipe. We had jam from my mom, the butter was put in a dish that Randy Portolese, my bro in law gave me, a really cool antique one. The dinner was complemented by a nice Syrah from our friends' winery, Elemental Cellars. It was dee.. lish!

All in all, our Christmas was awesome, we capped it by watching "It's a Wonderful Life" like we always do, complete with all the commentary. We all cry or tear up. It's wonderful. I love my family. We rock. Oh yeah, this year was also capped by Tyler doing the "Dougie" in the Ralphie bunny suit from "A Christmas Story". It's on YouTube. under... who knows what.

Thankful for memories

Hello bloggers and Happy Thanksgiving!

I am up late/early this Thanksgiving Eve... Thanksgiving Day. We traveled from Salem today and got to my parents late tonight. The intake of diet coke and the amount of time I snoozed in the car have made me awake past midnight. This year we have Thanksgiving dinner with my family and Christmas at home. I like this year, it is fun to see the fam and then relax and spend Christmas in our own house.

I have a bit of angst every time we travel to my childhood home. Where I currently live requires us to travel from Salem, OR to Eastern Washington. We go north on I5, which is always fun on a holiday weekend.. we hit I 205 (equally as fun) and then 84 and the Gorge which is full of gale force wind, rain and endless amounts of trucks. I usually lose 3-5 years from my life as Bruce navigates this each time. That isn't the angst, though.
The last part of this trip requires going by my grandparents' old homestead. It's not their original homestead, that place still stands, but it's the place they lived that I have the fondest/newest memories of. It no longer exists. Their old house/barn/yard and everything has been leveled. It's been years now, but every time I drive by there, my stomach knots up. I just HATE that it is gone. Tonight, however, we were approaching it and it was dark out, so I was unsure of the exact spot. I knew the roads and landmarks leading up, but as the time came to pass the empty place where their home once stood... I missed it.
Instead, I conjured up a memory of being there. There are so many, but the one that came to mind was of Nana making up Pepsi floats one night. I was there, the only grandkid (what a treat) and we were listening to the Prescott Football team at a playoff game on the radio. It was the year that we won state! Epic for our small town. This wasn't the state championship game, but a very important one, none the less. Nana was making Pepsi floats and we were all gathered around the radio and it was a wonderful memory.
It occurred to me that I don't need an old house or barn or yard to have the memories that were made and still are alive in my mind. I spent hours upon hours there, learning to bake, helping Nana in her yard, listening to her tell stories, "working" harvest with she and Mew as they spent their retired years still both working longer hours than most people do during their normal careers.
I have some objects from Nana and Mew's house. I own some of Nana's baking bowls and always think of her when I use them. I have some quilts and afghans, I love that she wanted me to have her Deacon's bench and there are still some yarn scraps and crochet needles in it that I can't bear to take out. I loved my Nana dearly and still wish she were able to meet all of my kids and get to know them, but some day in Heaven, they'll all have a grand time getting acquainted.

So, I'm thankful that I have a lifetime of memories to conjure up whenever I pass the old place where Nana and Mew used to live. I am very blessed to have had them as my grandparents.

Happy Thanksgiving, I wish for happy memories for all.

Dudster

Christ in Thanksgiving and Thanks in Christmas?!

I am on purpose writing a blog about Christmas before Thanksgiving, to accentuate the fact that I am on a bit of a rant.

There has been some talk in the media regarding the "even earlier than usual" Christmas decorations in the stores. I have grumbled every year about the early, like having the cheap post Halloween candy display flanked by a reindeer... get your own candy Rudolph!

I just drove Megan to her friend's for a sleepover and passed a house that is all decked out. Again, my immediate thought was "Wow, in the daylight, your approximately 6 blow up features that aren't blown up, look a bit like they've been in a war... and lost." I also had the thought that "Since when are woodland creatures playing on a see-saw a sight that makes me say, 'Thank you God, for sending us Your son.' " Then I was immediately a bit ashamed of myself. Examining oneself is probably a good practice from time to time... enter sarcasm punctuation.

Who am I to judge someone based on the decor of their house at Christmas? Shame on me. For all I know, they have a wonderful relationship with Jesus and choose to celebrate the season by decking their house like Clark Griswold, their choice. I choose, instead, to not sit in judgement. I will hope that the early decor in the stores provides an extra conversation for each Christ follower to have with a friend, child, parent or whomever about Christmas that otherwise may not have happened.

Now, this is the beginning of the week of Thanksgiving, a holiday oft overlooked in preparation of Christmas. Well, this Thanksgiving, I choose to be thankful for all the early bird Christmas people, all the Clark Griswolds and the chance for this Christmas to be awesome, let's break down that word... some awe. I hope you have "some awe" for our wonderful and very awesome Savior, whose birth we celebrate this season.

Now, go overeat, overbuy and overdecorate!

Dudster

Blog Brag on my Pirates

I must start this blog with a disclaimer... there will, no doubt, be a bit of biased opinions displayed throughout this blog entry, they are based on a bit of maternal instinct and a bit of love of all things Whitworth... there, I'm covered for the attorneys.

I am the mother of 2 boys/men children. They are Tyler and Trent and they are 2 1/2 years apart in age. They delight me. They, for the most part, always have. There were some times in there during the toddler years that I questioned my "delight." I am also mother to a darling girl, but sorry Megs... this post isn't about you right now.

My boys are runners, Bruce and I are both runners and pretty much LOVE that our boys are runners. There was a time when Tyler was a senior in high school and Trent was a freshman in high school that they were both on the same team. The West Salem Titans. I told Tyler that year that he was allowed to treat Trent like a freshman, but not like a little brother, that was the code. He did. They were district champs, Trent made varsity, represented, it was a good year to be a Dudley.

Fast forward to now... Trent decided to also attend Whitworth University, the very same institution his brother attends. I think that the coach was a big influence on this decision as was the fact that Trent witnessed the TEAM in action for these past 3 years. We've been fortunate enough to feed them several times at our house before meets and go to enough meets that we've grown quite familiar with Toby and the TEAM dynamic. I could go on and on about it, but instead I'm going to fast forward again to today, which was their conference meet.

Trent had been running poorly in the first half of the season, he'd been having good workouts but the races were horrible. It was just a "thing" he was having to work through. Toby and his teammates were helping and we were trying, but yeah, it was a tough start.

As luck would have it, the conference meet was hosted by Linfield and was quite near Salem, so the TEAM was able to come to our house and eat the night before. This, basically, makes me so happy... pause for the happiness quotient.... not enough, but I'll move on. I pretty much LOVE having 27 runners in my house... seeing the shoes in my entry way... their smiling, hungry faces... watching my crazy dog freak out and run from kid to kid for a pet.... my heart is so full. Toby's smiling face and, oh yeah, this time he brought the new Athletic Director along... so, yeah, I'm pretty much firing on all pistons.

They arrived... they prayed, they ate, they had fellowship with each other and the parents who were there and they left... it was awesome as always. My parting shot as they thank me is "Run fast" that's all I really want, my competitive nature is just to win.

Now, it's race day, we had the parents of the captain spend the night, Sue and Jim Jenkins, amazing, quality folks who reared an amazing, quality kid, go figure! Sue and I had discussed that the kids seemed a bit subdued at the dinner, not as goofy or loud as usual, we couldn't put our finger on it, but the adjective we came up with was "focused". We felt good about it, but being the crazy running moms we are... we both woke up feeling nervous for them, so silly, but yep, we were. We arrive at the course super early. Chatted with coaches and other parents... poised ourselves to watch the girls run and do a "dry run" for the boys' race.

Boys' race: Oh my... that's all I can really muster for this re-telling... I have in my mind this really cool movie footage from the race that "Seabiscuit" ran in that movie... all goes silent... and then the old time announcer voice comes on... and announces the race. Basically, the Whitworth boys ran out of their minds and won! I screamed my face off! I think I pulled something in my back... my throat is hoarse... my head was pounding from yelling. Aaron and Trevor ran awesomely... Tyler ran out of his mind... Eli outkicked Willamette's #4 in the last 50... Mark ran his face off.... I could go on and on. I was high on Whitworth runners and their amazing showing. I sort of hobbled over to the finish area and found them all and hugged/high fived/stared in dazed confusion at them... I had done the math and thought they won, but we were still a bit scared.

Then, the TEAM gathered together, no coaches around, just this young group of boys... they prayed, they thanked God for their race, they circled up and just glorified God. There were some moms crying... I wasn't among them... and then I realized why. I LOVE this TEAM... I have a senior on this TEAM... but I am so fortunate that I also have a freshman on this TEAM... I don't need to mourn the loss of it yet. I was immediately sad for those moms. I feel their pain and in 3 years somebody better get a really good counselor to help me.

So folks, this blog ends with this... sending your kids off to college is a scary/sad thing, but I will say that at least for me, I have a peace about the place they landed. I pretty much love their coaches and feel like God put them where He wants them to be and for that, I'm most grateful and humble.

Go Pirates!!! Kick some major "Booty" at Regionals!!!!!!!!

Mama Duds

PS.. the New Athletic Director got to witness first hand his very first Conference Championship, so yeah, that is another awesome thing too. He's a baseball guy and was very interested in the World Series game that was happening during "carbo load" time... October is XC time, NOT baseball... sorry!

You Da Manns!

This blog is dedicated to the Manns... that is Josh and Bex Mann... and Mercy...

I had this thought that I would be able to let the fact that the Manns were leaving our life go by.... I thought that I would be able to say a very feeble goodbye at their last staff coffee and that would be a goodbye... I was very wrong. Let's start at the beginning, a very good place to start.. if you are Maria Von Trapp... I'm not, but let me try. I have a very vivid memory of Josh Mann as an intern at SAC. I was working with the Preschool staff, Tess and Nancy, in a not on official staff payroll sort of way, but getting paid sort of way. Josh was an intern under Erik and was doing events and in that arena was my eldest son's assistant pastor. My early memory is of Josh seeking to have lunch with Nancy and Tess and me... he made it happen and ate with us and asked questions of us... if memory serves, Nancy made a very inappropriate fart joke... you adjusted quite well, I was impressed by your young, Doogie Houser self.

Tyler, my eldest would invite his friends (non churched kids) to events and Josh was "the main guy" who would engage. I have major recollection of follow up conversations with those kids about the "cool church dude". Always engaging, Josh, from the beginning.

After those times, I just praise God for the fact that He placed you in my kids' lives. Trent has been blessed by you... a million times.. and Megan... the same. I can't articulate, I just feel like God placed you into the middle of the Dudley's lives... for real, I'm so blessed that you have been the Pastor that God placed in my kids' lives. I pause here, because I can't articulate the emotion I feel here. (Sob) just doesn't seem to do it justice, but suffice to say.... there are tears on my keyboard.

So, Bex, on to you... I pretty much love you, so THAT is awesome for my crying self.... I feel like you and I are a lot of the same person. We both married young and also, I feel like our young marriages have faced a lot of the same obstacles.... call me crazy, but I know what I feel, call me on this, I'd love to share.

I have a very vivid memory of you sharing about your miscarriage with me... I shared with you about mine. I had one before I became pregnant with Megan. I know that God orchestrated mine and yours and that He had a plan for both of us to have our darling daughters as His plan unveiled... so happy that I could watch both of those plans play out. I love that I got to meet your daughter... I wish that my daughter could have become her best babysitter, but perhaps her friend she met at YouthQuake... I love God's plan....

But Bex, I do feel like God put you in my life and me in your life for a reason... our stories are close. We married young, our husbands are similar... I feel like we are a pair... please keep in touch.

So, the last "thing" to this blog... I was at the front desk today because our Monday girl got sick, I was sitting there answering phones and in walks Josh.... He waves at me....I believe he was leaving a key or something for Tim... doesn't matter, He waves.... I wave and immediately realize... Oh my Goodness...!" I say, " Good bye! Thank you for Pastoring all of my kids." He says, "Your kids are awesome." I love that boy... I reply, "I hope Trent can intern at your church." To which he replies, he hopes so. I say, that we love you and he is gone.

I am, in a weird way, glad that I'm the last interaction Josh has at SAC... Bex was the "girl Friday" as her first job... Josh and I go way back for '"jobs" here... I feel like it's appropriate.

I pray for Fox Island and the Manns, I just love that God has a plan for them, praise You God for your plan at Fox Island. I can't wait to see what You have planned for them.

The Long Haul

So, anyone who has any interaction with me, whatsoever, knows that I am an avid runner.  I have run all of my life.  I have a vivid recollection of my sister and I climbing up the hills in the wheat fields behind our house and running along the little patterns that the farm equipment had left preparing the field for seeding. Judy didn't enjoy running as much so she would usually stop and find dirt clods and try to hit me, but I would just run and run.  I loved it.  


I was fairly fast in small spurts too and would brag to my 2 older siblings, they'd get mad and tell our dad that I was bragging about beating them.  He thought he'd teach me a "Tortoise and the Hare" type lesson so he told them to challenge me to a race to the end of the pasture and back.  That would be about a mile and a half, give or take.  I eagerly agreed and took off like a shot.  They took a more educated approach and jogged along knowing that I'd die.  I was probably 8 and they were 10 and 11.  I crushed them.  I believe that on that day my dad decided I should run. 


 I played basketball, volleyball and softball instead.  Finally, in my junior year Dad managed to convinced me to go out for the track team.  I loved it, I made it to State, the following year I was 2nd and 4th in the 2 Mile and the Mile.  I went to college and ran and found a new love of Cross Country, which my small school never had.  I met my runner husband, my life changed because of running. 


Life went on and there was always running, it morphed from the competitive collegiate running into other racing, but somewhere along the way, I just realized that running is part of what God designed me to be.  I love it, it makes me... me.  I have heard all the funny jokes from "non runners", they're very clever.  I don't condemn, I run because I was made to enjoy it.  I have run 2 marathons, they each deserve their own blog entry, so I won't bore you with the details.  I LOVE Hood to Coast and have run many other "fun runs", but I must say that my favorite running memories are just me and the pavement, bark dust or gravel trail.  I pray while I run.  I solve lots of world problems and Dudley problems while I run.  I cry, sometimes, while I run.  There was a time in 2008 when I refused to run because my friend John Stumbo was so ill that he couldn't, so I wouldn't.  Then, when I resumed, I realized that I could cry and pray and run.  Multi faceted.  


So, this boring blog running story must have a point.  I am injured. DUMB!   I had been blissfully injury free for my entire career until... I got old!  In '09 I hurt my Plantar Fascia and long story short, my buddy/PT Josiah Faville fixed me up.  It was a process, but I was back in action. 


 Then a few months ago I hurt my hamstring.  I've been in PT again with the awesome PT Josiah since a while, I've lost track.  We were making progress, I was a puzzle which Josiah tried to piece together, apparently my SI joint was/is out of whack which made the hammy vulnerable.  Anywho... skip the boring PT stuff/torture (sorry Josiah) and fast forward to me attempting my 3rd "return to run" fiasco.  I basically am failing miserably at it and the hamstring is yelling at me about it and I FB message Josiah sniveling as always.  Bless his little heart, he emails me this long email today about the history of my injury (data backed studies) he dummies it down for me to understand that basically, the extent of what I've done to my hamstring over years of abuse and other circumstances means that I'm not running for a few (couple?, wishful thinking) months.  (Sigh, gulp, nope, not gonna cry).


Now, the title of this blog is "The Long Haul".  I've trained for many events in my years of running.  The marathon training is the long haul type of stuff.  I get it, I need to put in the hours of doing the exercises to strengthen this and that and get my hammy back to healthy. I need to undergo the lovely scraping and other things Josiah does to my leg to get it healthy. (no complaining allowed, he is ruthless)  


I have no doubt I'll run again, but in the meanwhile I am figuring this out.  God always provides me with a gentle or sometimes a plain old smack in the side of the head lesson.  This week it was in the form of my dear friend Don Bubna leaving this earth and entering Heaven.  What a party there must be.  My job at church is planning services and I am in the midst of doing that for Don and his family.  I love to think about the "Long Haul" that Don had here on this earth.  He encountered many bumps bigger than an injured hamstring.  He ran the race quite well and he is reaping the rewards right now.  


Pastor Don Bubna, thank you for teaching me so much about how to serve families during their times of grief.  You taught me so much and you always made me feel like a million bucks.  Love you friend. 


I am signing off, I will limp to bed, try not to cuss my failing leg and the pain it brings me... deep sigh... yeah, the long haul, I can do it and some day this blog entry will make me scoff at my whiny self. 


Dudster

HTC... PS

I have fully recovered from this year's Hood to Coast extravaganza. I blogged about it, I got my sleep in, I cleaned up the "bag of goodies". I feel like it's done. I have been, however, processing what next year may look like. I have been asked by the namesake of our team to retire the name. He made a good point.
We started the first year with "He's alive". John had barely survived his horrible encounter with the mystery illness and was slowly recovering when we embarked on Stumbo's Prayer Warriors, year one. He was there in the flesh to see us off that year. Very weak still and his voice was not so strong, but he showed up to send us off, such a blessing to us.

The next year was marked with a slight change in roster and a new shirt design that had "Run John Run" logos all over the place. I remember very well when I gave John the shirt that was made for him with that on it. I held my breath, worried that it would make him sad, but he loved it! He was doing way better health wise that year. He showed up to send us off again.

This year, he is doing even better with his health, he was not in Salem, but up in Gig Harbor, but still in touch with us. He actually called us prior to my van leaving the church to tell us a story as a send off. He had been at his new PT place and had worn his "Run John Run" shirt. The lady there asked him about it and he was able to share his story of near death and healing with her. Very cool to hear that our silly shirt is sparking conversations about much bigger things.

John Stumbo, you are a miracle. I count you as a friend and am so happy to have captained a team named for you. I will honor your wishes and retire the name. I am also retiring the team, at least with me as captain. I have thought about it a bunch and decided that my captainship is done. I pray daily that you will run again, I feel in my heart that you will. My recent injury has given me pause for much thought on this. I do love a good event like Hood to Coast, but I really just love running. My best runs are rarely from an event, but more often from a run where nobody is there. I miss those runs as I suspect you do St. Umbo. There will be a day in the future when you are running again and I will get another HTC team and you will be my number one recruit. I have my other "dream team" people in mind too, but alas, for now... I am retired.

Dudster (retired captain) has left the course.

Hood to Coast 2011

Greetings all!

Well, we managed yet another completed HTC. This was the 3rd year for Stumbo's Prayer Warrior to embark upon this adventure. It didn't come without many bumps in the road. Our roster changed more in the past 9 months than Erik w/a K changed his underpants. One change that I certainly can speak to is that I didn't get to run for the first HTC since 1999. I have been nursing a hamstring and it just didn't happen for me, but I captained the team and even rode along with the crazies in Van 2. Here are a few of the highlights:

- Erik brought granola again and offered it up quite often... AGAIN. It appeared to increase in volume as the race ensued, not sure what is in that stuff, but probably not the best diet food if it grows.

-Another repeat experience is that Erik's bag seemed to vomit repeatedly and parts of it could be found all over the van, another phenomenon that we can't explain. (Love you Erik, thanks for making me think of Trent, so I wasn't missing him so much)

- Kara, our loudest and most excited cheerer and most fun lady ever couldn't run this year, battling a souvenir she brought back from Egypt named "Perry site" nasty little guy. We missed you terribly Kara. Even in her absence, she was felt because she sent along her famous Energy Balls and it turns out our infantile van never tires of laughing when one of us says "balls". Awesome.

- Shannon brings a plethora of wipes that could probably stock the shelves of a Walgreens. We all partook of them and enjoyed them very much. We also learned that during a run she can stop, drop and poop in 10 seconds, impressive by any standards, wow, I must pause here for how impressive that is.

- And speaking of poop... Erik giving a poop pep talk through the Honey Bucket walls... epic. I am standing in line waiting my turn with about 5 people and this uproarious laughter erupts from the line of HB's. Someone comments "They're having fun", I sheepishly look at them and say "Those are my teammates, that's how we roll."

- Steve Unwin, Stallion, warrior, awesome teammate extraordinaire and can puke like nobody's business. Oh man, you rock dude! You are my hero. Side note, watching how you love to tease Erik is one of my favorite things too. So fun watching you two brothers.

- Jaque, our driver and resident mom of all. Thanks for all you did to help our team and for bringing your sister along to run, very cool. You two managed to smuggle a small grocery store of food aboard, not sure how you managed.

- Beeks! Our last minute sub and Rookie of the Year! Having just had an appendectomy like 3 weeks prior, Beeker was feeling this weird feeling where her appendix used to be, I named it the "Appendix Void". What a trooper, powered through the pain and ran like the wind and also was awesomely funny, W00t! You rock girl!

- Mandee, our tall girl ;o) rocked it. Even though her buddy Kara had to back out last minute, Mandee stepped right in to the weird bunch than made up Van 2 and cracked wise and ran well and even recovered from the fact that Beeks kept calling her Megan. Bah!

- In a series of unfortunate events we were bumping up against not being able to finish. There was talk along the last legs about course closure and we were watching the volunteers pick up garbage, we had a looming time of 8pm for our last runner to leave that exchange. We did some math and realized that it was going to take some tough running and creative captaining to pull this off. I shall evoke my 5th amendment rights here in case the HTC officials are reading this, but basically, Erik had to run this 8.12 mile last leg that changed since last year. It used to be a flat 7 1/2 mile leg and now it's arguably the hardest leg in the race. Horrible. Oh my. As we drove it and realized what poor Erik had agreed to, my stomach lurched, my heart hurt and I was thinking I would be permanently "defriended" by him. The one shining silver lining is that he looked stunning. He had grabbed the bright pink vest just because it already had a number on it. He borrowed Beeks' hand held water bottle and, oh yeah it happened to be bright pink and then he got up to the exchange and had forgot his headlamp, so Shannon let him have hers, you guessed it... PINK! He looked glorious. He killed it! Ran that horrible leg like a champ. He came in, handed off and proceeded to wretch his guts out, so freaking awesome! Made my captain heart so proud.

We made it! The announcer at the finish always says each team as they cross. When Shannon was spotted, he said "Team 105, Stumbo's Prayer Warriors, your runner is coming." We all excitedly assembled, ready to jog the last 100 meters with her. He looked at us and said "What's a Stumbo?" I don't recall what we said, but I remember thinking that I would love to sit down with that guy and tell him all about John Stumbo. Our van did tell John's story a few times. There was a volunteer at one exchange who was very interested in it. He took a magnet and was going to go and read his blog. We prayed, we talked about John, we laughed, we pooped, we groused some, we did it. Sigh.

Waterworld

Hey bloggers, I am at home alone tonight and slightly bored (no offense to Rocky the wonder dog). Bruce is in Seattle and Trent is on a date with his Court and Megan is at Chloe's.

We've had a slight problem develop at the ranch here. Yesterday Bruce noticed some water leaking out of our rock wall in the front of our yard. He called a plumbing company (A1 plumbing) I've since heard that they're good, but let's face it, Bruce didn't make it too deep into the yellow pages when he "stumbled" upon them. Anyway, they are coming tomorrow to fix an apparent broken pipe. Cost is... how do I put this? I considered yanking Trent from his plan to attend Whitworth and sign him up for Plumber school. Yikes, spendy Wendy!

So, I find myself here tonight with no water. We could have water, but when we turn it on, it leaks like crazy and I'm a cheapskate and also we're fearful of what may be happening in the yard with erosion etc. Bruce was worried and suggested I go to a motel, I said "Nah, I'll get some big jugs for teeth, face etc and make it work. Well, I get home and there is a dishwasher of dirty dishes, a sink of dirty dishes, a dog dish with a dead spider in it, there is always laundry to do... and me with 4 gallons of water. I sighed, I might have had a small "Charlie Brown" shoulder slump and then it hit me. Gee, I have a very comfortable home with electricity and the option to stay in a hotel and some very minor irritants that will be fixed tomorrow when I pay people to fix our problem. I think God might have smacked me and my sniveling self.

Here is where I may be leaping in a very ballerina style sort of way onto my bandwagon. I sponsor a child in Haiti. It costs us a very small amount of money each month. It doesn't have to be Haiti or the organization I use, but seriously folks, consider your life right now without water or electricity. Not to mention food! For the tiny amount of money you can spend and give a family the piddliest of necessities... it really does break my heart. Just freaking do it. There, I said it. My water will be fixed tomorrow, A1 plumbing will be richer and the Dudleys will be... still just fine. Just water under the bridge right? It makes for good "Dudley Family Folklore". I do love a good story.

A Quiltervention

This blog is about my obsession with quilts. I think that obsession is a strong word. I will say that I feel compelled, but not a compulsion to buy a quilt (in the right price range) that I feel deserves a good home. To quote the late Maria Von Trapp, or at least the Hollywood version... Let's start at the very beginning... a very good place to start.

My quilt "obsession" was born in the 80's. My mother decided she wanted to learn how to quilt. My Great Aunt Margaret, who was a great lady and a great aunt, she also happened to be my "Great Aunt" as she was my Nana's sister. Aunt Margaret was awesome on many levels, but her quilting was legendary. Anyway, she gave mom the first quilt lessons. Mom got started on her first quilt creation. This process lasted for a long time. When the "quilting" time came, she set it up in our living room. When you quilt a large quilt there is this giant thing set up to stretch it out. We didn't have a large room for mom to use so she used the living room. I have a very vivid recollection of lying under the quilt and watching TV. This stage lasted for months.

Mom had anyone who came over quilt a bit on it. It became this very cool piece of Hall family folklore and quickly I was enamored with this thing. I lobbied hard, I wanted it. I hinted, I spoke outright, I really really wanted this quilt to be mine. My grandma, my Aunt Margaret, all of us kids, many, many people who I knew and loved had quilted on this. It contained fabric from every last thing my mother had ever sewn. It was a masterpiece. As I mentioned, I'd lobbied hard, but mom had a good poker face and I wasn't convinced I would prevail. One of four kids, how did I deserve this prize? It did so happen to be my birthday soon after the completion. I opened the bounty of presents and one remained. A very small little box... I figured I would have to be happy with a piece of jewelry. I opened it up and a tiny slip of paper was inside that said "quilt". I screamed! It was glorious and all mine. That wasn't my first quilt, but it remains a very special one to me. I have a few very special ones that I'll try to articulate. This blog may some day be in my will, pay attention!

The first quilt I owned was my baby quilt which was a green and white gingham quilt with little animals for the squares. I love that quilt and still hate the stupid Baby Alive doll that got battery acid on it. I salvaged it, but what a dumb doll. Side note, my awesome Aunt Margaret, bought me a quilt for my first baby at an auction that was yellow and white gingham with little animals, same pattern as mine, love it too.

I've bought some cool quilts over the years from estate sales or Ebay and they're cool, but not significant to me. Here are some special quilts I own:

My mom made me an awesome quilt for my high school graduation present, by this time, she was an awesome quilter and this one is a beauty and is hanging in my bedroom.

Wouldn't you know it, I married Bruce whose grandma was an awesome quilter. She made each of her grandkids amazing quilts which she not only hand quilted, but also did pristine needlepoint. Bruce's was of antique cars in a block style quilt, it's blue and white and amazing, love you Grandma Fry. You are missed, can't wait to see you in Heaven.

The treasure chest quilt that I found at Nana and Mew's old farm house. They had both passed, but the house still stood. It had been gone through, but a cousin had lived there and it still stood for some years. At one point Judy and I went through it, I found some cool kitchen stuff and in the spare bedroom was this quilt. Now, Nana wasn't a quilter so I know she hadn't crafted it, hard telling who had. It was really vibrant fabrics and a tie style, in really good shape, but the part I treasure about it is that it smelled of Nana's house. I just breathed it in, for months, for real, oh man, I love that quilt. It is hanging over the top of the stairs in my house and every time I see it, it makes me think of Nana's house and how much I loved that place.

The last of my most prized quilts is a new variety. It was given to me as a present from my friend Melissa. At the time, we were co-workers and she had pre-meditated, like a murder, this quilt. I have a vague recollection of her quizzing me about my decorating style and periods I like and she figured out that I liked vintage stuff. Anyway, she presents me with this amazing quilt of vintage fabric and it's seriously, the perfect, most beautiful quilt ever and BONUS, made with love from a dear friend. I'm not often left speechless, but this gift is probably the most thoughtful one I've ever been given and I love this quilt very much.

So, anyway, I know this was a long winded blog, but I'm serious about my love of quilts. They tell a story, they're beautiful and they keep you warm. I pretty much love them. Use this in my last will and testament, don't sell the special ones please, donate them to science or to the people who love them as much as me.

Dudster, hanging on by a very thin thread...

Father's Day

Hello bloggers!

This is Father's Day eve and I shall use my forum to write a tribute to the amazing fathers in my life. First, my own Dad, Jerry Hall. What a great father I am blessed with. Dad didn't have the best example to go by, but he beat the odds and became a really good dad without great training. Some of my fondest memories growing up involve my Dad. He would quiz me hours on end on my times tables while he milked the cow. I vividly remember sitting on the hay behind him while he quizzed me. I can still hear the milk hitting the pan and then the milk hitting the milk and can smell the barn. My dad, after doing a full day of work and coming home to hours of farm work, still had the time to help me learn my math.
Dad was a strict parent in the sense that you couldn't get away with disobedience, but he's a big softie. I could always count on a hug or a wink when I was feeling down. He challenged us to excel and for that I am truly grateful. I am a very competitive person and that trait has served me well and I can thank Dad for a lot of that. I feel like I could easily have become much more complacent about mediocre if I hadn't been pushed. As I've aged and parented my own kids I really have a new appreciation for how great of a job Dad did with us kids. He's a wonderful grandpa too and I love him very much.

Another great father in my life is my father in law, Gene Dudley. He also didn't have a great role model to learn this art. He not only rose up from that challenge of his early childhood junk, but became a wonderful Dad. He loves his kids and he loves his in law kids. I absolutely LOVE how much he loves my kids and what a great grandpa he is to them. The "Attaboys" are legendary in our house. I think my kids must have those little papers scattered all over this house. He always finds reason to praise. His stories are awesome and he is always quick with a laugh. One of the famous "Dudley Folklore" is during year one of my Dudleyness. They were visiting us in Germany and we were playing Scrabble. Gene, notorious for thwarting your efforts toward a triple word, took one away from me where I was planning to put "Quack" and reap huge points. When he laid down his dumb word, screwing up my plan, I gave him a forehead smack. He blinked twice... and then let out a huge belly laugh. I knew I would fit in fine in this family. Gene, I thank you for welcoming me and for raising a son to be a good father. You are loved.

My hubby Bruce is another father who deserves mention in this blog. He has been the ying to my yang, the Beevis to my Butthead, the Bad Cop to my Good Cop and Vice Versa. We make a good team. I do pretty good with the mommy thing, but Bruce brings a whole new element to parenting that I lack. I don't need to bore you with the details, but suffice to say, God knew what he was doing when He paired us up. I feel like we are doing a pretty great job, I love my kids and I love my partner and that is a good thing.

Lastly, the Father who I must praise is my Father God. Without Him, none of these blessings I spoke of would be in existence. He has shown us all how to be a parent. He is the Way, the Truth and the Light. Thanks be to God. Happy Father's Day!

Dudster

Graduation declaration

This blog is about my middle born child's graduation. Trent, my second born manchild is graduating in exactly one week. What does this mean to me? Well, it means that I am preparing for his open house on this Saturday, for one. We Dudleys celebrate early and get it over with. We are having a pre party and getting things started for all the grads. That's really the easy part, if you can believe it. Feeding people is kinda easy for me. Getting my house ready? Eh, I'll make it happen. Not too stressed about the party.... other than one small piece.
I have had this thought in my head that I needed to get Trent's scrapbook done, like literally all year long I've been internally nagging myself. He was 14 in scrapbook years... not one page of high school had happened. I had some of the photos copied, had purchased the actual book and paraphernalia and had great plans of making it happen. It didn't happen. I had resigned myself to the fact that it wasn't going to and then, in a moment of weakness... I decided that I had to make it happen. That moment was on Sunday of this week.
Fast forward: It's almost done. I am waiting on photos from shutterfly from his Sophomore year XC that our buddy Brian took, but other than that, it's actually ok. I am happy with the result. Here's the thing: The scrapbook really doesn't matter one iota, I guess that is really a word, no little squiggly line appeared under it. So, yeah, it really doesn't matter, what does matter is the unsettledness that I have been feeling regarding my little Trentie graduating. It was underlying and so I wasn't addressing it. I think it manifested itself in this silly scrapbook. I am really happy about Trent's plans, he's going to Whitworth, which is where his brother is, so that makes me happy. He'll have his brother and also we know the coach and are really pleased with the whole deal. I am just not ready to let him go yet. I really thought that the second kid leaving was going to be easier, man I was wrong. He's not even leaving yet and I'm a mess. We've had a few of the award nights that the school has. Trent has been a recipient of all of them, which is cool, but also just dragging out this event. He received accolades from his track coach at that event. He was recognized a few times at the senior awards night for brains and athletics and received the "Coach Award" for XC at the senior sports award night. It was fun to watch him shine, but again, bittersweet for the mama and papa.

So, the last scrapbook page I did for my Trentie: I captured a pic of him running this early spring, before Track. It was him running a hill workout right in front of his high school and there was a rainbow. I put that pic on the page and below it put this verse: "When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth" At the top of the page I put "Go with God" I love it. It made me feel such a peace. I gave my angst and unsettledness and all of the junk to God. So glad that God is so faithful to me and meets me where I'm at time and time again. Of course Trent will be fine. Of course he'll go and do great things for the Kingdom, why do I fret? Sorry God, sorry that I, yet again, question and worry.

Come close, listen to a story.

The title of this Blog is from a Phil Wickham song, which I love. The story he tells is that of Christ dying on the cross. A great story and perhaps I am trumping my own blog...

I love telling stories. I'm actually ok at it, I usually am just relaying something that happened to me or better yet, retelling a story I've heard.
This past weekend at my church we heard the rest of a story from a very special lady who worked at our church up until very recently as a receptionist and actually still fills in there in that role on a semi regular basis. Her name is Kathy Fairley and she has lived an amazing life. She is so humble that you need to literally pull the story from her.
I've known her for quite a few years and still only know a lot because of her being interviewed or from other people. This hero was the daughter of missionaries and became a prisoner of war in China. She lived in that camp for several years as a young girl separated from her parents. She was in the same camp as Erich Liddell, the famous missionary from the movie,"Chariots of Fire". She survived that and grew up to marry a man who she served with as a missionary in Africa.

My point is that, if you met Kathy, you would never think to listen to a story she might tell. Not being mean, but regular, busy folks just don't stop and listen to a story from someone who is elderly. Kathy wouldn't ever stop you and beg you to listen to her, it's not her manner, but I had this thought... a lot of the older folks wouldn't do that and what a waste. What a travesty that the younger generation aren't listening. This also got me to remembering times from my own past...

When I was 18, I worked in a grain elevator in Prescott, Washington. It was a great job. It was long hours, but it paid well and it was pretty big coup to get. I was going into my sophomore year at Central Washington University. I was on the Cross Country team and pretty serious about training. I awoke each morning at 5:30 and ran 2 miles. I got to work at 7:00 and worked until the elevators closed at 8:00 and then I ran home (4 miles). That was a 7 day work week unless it rained. If it rained, we only did 8-5. This history gives you some insight into my mind frame...

During harvest, times could be super busy with wheat trucks rolling in steadily or the down times where we got nothing. During those down times we passed time in various ways. I quickly found that I had a friend. His name was Merle Brown. He was like 80. It seemed like it at the time, but as I play out the numbers, he was probably more like 75. Merle would come and "Tell Story" to me. I enjoyed him, he was a cute little grandpa and I listened and, quite frankly.... I was bored, so he was fine. After a few weeks, he realized my training regime. He noticed that I was running home and started asking me questions. I told him how I was training for my college team. I thought he'd pat me on the head and say what a good job, etc etc. As I listened to his story, turns out that he ran really fast in college, like almost a 4 minute mile. Totally blew me away. Just goes to show that you might judge someone or not really listen or ... the scenario can go on and on. I love that I have my Merle Brown story. Merle passed away several years ago, but I love that he passed along to me his story. I feel honored that he trusted me with his PR's. I will always remember Merle.

The point, if I have one is that the title of this blog, "Come close, listen to a Story" speaks about listening to a story. We can all tell something, but if we listen... I think we can convey a lot more.

Fox in Sox

Ok, the title of this blog is odd, I know, but stick with me on this. Fox in Sox was my first born child, Tyler's favorite book for approximately one year. And when I say favorite book, I mean we read it every night. And when I say "we", I mean me. I mean, Tyler couldn't read and Bruce had bath duty and I had bedtime duty, so, yeah, basically, it was me. Although Tyler couldn't read, apparently, he could comprehend or memorize because if you skipped a page, and I tried, BELIEVE ME, I tried! He would fareak out! OCD and Rainman!

So, this year long ritual led to me basically memorizing that horrible book. Each night I would drone on and try to sound excited. It also led to, in a weird way, the title of this blog. This blog is about the mis-matched socks in my house. They haunt me, they torture me, they enrage me. I have a collection of very nice running socks and men's dress socks, women's dress socks, soccer socks and even some crappier versions of all. I feel compelled to keep them all because their match will appear. On occasion, I will throw one of the loners away. If it's particularly ratty or it is a sock I've never seen and I'm convinced was abandoned in our house... I just don't have the time or energy to deal with that, so they must go.

Some laundry weeks are quite successful and I find a lot of them, but others are very depressing. I fight the urge to call appliance repair people to discuss the odds of washers and dryers eating socks.

Last night I had an epiphany. I thought that at some point we will have all of our stray socks accounted for. I was elated for approximately 2 seconds and then the thought hit me... that will be such a sad day. We won't have any kids in the house to lose a sock under their bed, or in their gym bag, or locker, or friend's house, or there won't be any friend's extra sock to haunt our loner pile. I gulped and immediately was quite happy that I currently house approximately 20 single mis-matched socks, waiting for their "E Harmony" moment to find their "sole" mate.

I will keep the socks. I have faith their mates will show up. I think that Dr. Seuss could rhyme this... I don't feel like it.

The Flu/plague

I will try not to be too dramatic in this blog, but let me start by saying... I nearly died last week! I got the flu and when I say flu, I mean influenza, the horrible, awful thing that the "flu shot" is supposed to prevent. Well, I didn't get a flu shot, so shoot me!
First of all, from now on when someone casually mentions that they had the flu, I will cross examine them. If they, indeed, pass the test, I will allow them to state that they had the flu, but if they don't... well, I pity them.

Here is how my flu started: I had a 4 mile run on Saturday, after which I felt a bit congested, like maybe my allergies were here or a slight cold, nothing horrible. Sunday was a bit worse, but still manageable. On Monday I woke up feeling not great. I decided to stay home from work. It was Spring Break and Megan was home so I thought I'd stay home and kick it because I had a funeral that I was organizing on Thursday. I hung out at home, scrap booked a bit and felt ok. By that night I knew that this was more than a cold. Tuesday morning I woke up feeling like death. I knew I had to go to work to do some things for the funeral. I staggered in and did the things that were necessary, but left at noon feeling like a train had run over me. I slept the rest of the day and woke up at like 11:00 on Wednesday. I had off and on had chills and was freezing. I took Advil and just laid in bed. On Wednesday, I had a fever of almost 103. I literally stayed in bed all day. At one point I realized that I wasn't going to make it in for the funeral. I emailed my friend at work who had offered to help. I basically staggered to the office and composed an email that was one run on sentence of instruction to her. I was sweating and my head was spinning... it was all I could do to send the email. I made it back to bed and slept for another million hours (it seemed like). My fever broke in the night which meant that I woke up in a pool of sweat. Too weak to get up and change clothes, I just rolled over and went back to sleep. On Thursday morning at precisely 10:10, I awoke. I had this thought that I would wash the sheets. I knew that for a wash and dry cycle it would take me being up and out of bed for 2 hours. I did it, barely. I also managed a shower in that time frame. I made the bed and then flopped into it and slept the rest of that day away.

At one point, I looked at Bruce and said, "If I were on the Oregon Trail, I'd be dead." I wasn't kidding. This thought occurred to me. Here I am in my nice big bedroom with my cozy bed and ceiling fan and barely alive. I know that at the peak of my fever I had hallucinations, but this wasn't one, I had an epiphany, those poor women had to go about their daily existence, even when sick, no wonder so many perished along the way. I would have been laid out by the piano or dresser. Anyway, but I digress.

I survived the plague/flu. I will from here on out quiz anyone who claims to have had it. I will most likely get a flu shot from now on. I am currently on meds to overcome the bronchitis that the flu left me as a parting shot. The day I can run again will be nice, I think it's near. I didn't die, the covered wagon is intact. I thank the good Lord that He is in control.

Dudster

Making a break for Spring

It is Spring Break this week for my kids. We aren't doing anything out of the ordinary, which is a bit depressing. Trent is in Mexico on a Mission trip which is cool and Tyler is spending his break with a bunch of his friends in Idaho. So, that's fun for him, but poor Megan was lamenting the other day. You see, last year we went on a cruise and well I guess poor Meg thought there was a theme developing. I was explaining to her that she was pretty fortunate in the amount of traveling she's done at her young age. She asked the inevitable; "What did you guys used to do for your Spring Break when you were little?" I replied, "Chores." Ended her sniveling pretty quickly.

Reminded me of when Tyler was working 2 jobs and still training for XC and at one point he said, "I have worked 10 days in a row, what's the longest you ever worked without a day off?" I told him it was my first harvest job, we worked 38 days in a row until it rained and on the 39th day, we only had to work 8 hours instead of the usual 12. He said, "I asked the wrong parent didn't I?" Quick study.

The life of a farm kid is slightly less glamorous than Laura Ingalls would have you all think. I had plenty of fun though and I wouldn't change it for anything.

So, as we attempt to make a break for Spring around here, I can look out the window and see that it is pouring rain and the sun is shining, typical! The crocus have bloomed and the daffodils are out, the frogs have started croaking at night and a couple of track meets have been run, so Spring is indeed coming, we just must be patient. I'll soon have a "spring" in my step when I embark on the first run in shorts and short sleeves. Oh yes, it will come...

Dudster

Boot Camp for Dummies

Hello Bloggers!

Today I am going to talk about my first experience with this tortuous thing called "Boot Camp". A friend of mine has blogged about this before and she is much wittier and more clever than I. The name of her Blog is Mother Hen. I am just going to share a bit because at this point, lifting my arms as high as the keyboard is just about all I can muster.

Back it up a bit, I've always been a bit of an exercise class snob. I've done my share, I "Jazzercised" my way through part of the 80's, although never a leg warmer have I donned. I've done step classes and they were fine, but I've never reached the cardio burn I get from running and always just pooh poohed them.

My friends Kara and Shannon have been regulars in this class for awhile, they recently recruited a couple other friends and voila, here I am on this Wednesday, nearly crippled.

It began at the glorious hour of 4:55 am. I pretty much hate mornings, so already I'm off to a very cranky start. I roll out of bed, cuz that's how I roll... ba da boom! I brush teeth, put on my workout garb, grab some coffee and jump in the car. Bonus, no traffic on the bridge at 5:00 am. That's probably the last silver lining you'll get from this blog. Arrive at the YMCA and look at the parking meter to see what I owe... I lied, another silver lining, don't have to pay til 8:00 am. Crazy people can keep their quarters, thank you very much.

I wander in and immediately spot Kara, who IS a morning person, yippee freaking skippy! She does dial it down and greets me with a subdued for her, "Dudster!" Shannon arrives and it's a party. We head up and I'm a bit nervous, but first thing you do is run 6 laps around the tiny track at the Y. Yes! Running is my favorite, so that was easy. Get in the room and my eyes are darting around nervously for this person they call Tina who I've heard is slightly mean. Kara introduces me and I say "nice to meet you". She said, "We'll see what you think after." Gulp.

The rest is a blur of me trying to follow directions while doing things like push ups, carrying heavy things over my head while running, more push ups, circuits of different things using my weak little runner arms. I was doing modified push ups aka the dreaded "girl" push ups only to realize that my sweat was making me peel out and I couldn't get a grip. That was fun! The wall sits reminded me of high school basketball, our coach called them "Green Chairs" and we had to do them when we cussed in practice. I was pretty good at those and I didn't cuss once today while doing them.

Fast forward, I made it through and it was fun, yes I know I'm a masochist, but it really was and I feel invigorated! Now, I will end this blog entry with a list of things that it's difficult to do when your arms are so weak, you can barely lift them:

1. Taking off your sweaty sports bra. Who knew, I thought I might have to get a scissor, I made it.

2. Washing your hair.

3. Shaving your arm pits, ouch, literally braced one arm against the shower wall, sorry for the visual.

4. Putting on deodorant.

5. Drying your hair.

6. Putting on your shirt.

7. Putting your hair in a bun. The salt in that wound is that after arms were up, I realized I'd grabbed the sweaty hair tie from
the torture class and didn't care enough to replace it.

8. Reaching up for bowl to make oatmeal (thank the Good Lord the oatmeal is on a lower shelf of the pantry)


I could probably go on and on, but you get the idea. I feel like I am going to be pretty sore, but hey, I survived it and it can only get better from here right? Question to fellow campers: Is it better or worse when Tina doesn't have a migraine? One of the thoughts I had...

Dudster is out (of her mind)

Silver anniversary

Hello bloggers! I wondered about the title of this blog, I thought about mentioning Maui, but then I thought, "No, I'm going old school on this puppy!" I didn't bust out the Burl Ives song or anything, but the "silver" anniversary is pretty stinkin' cool. We made it! I'm sure there were folks (you needn't fess up) who thought we wouldn't. I mean I was 19 and Bruce was 22. He was a college grad with a good job, but seriously, anyone who knew me probably thought I was pregnant or crazy or both.

Our official anniversary is January 26. We got married on Superbowl Sunday in 1986. Think Refrigerator Perry and the famous Chicago Bears' "Superbowl Shuffle" They creamed the Pats that day, turned out nobody missed much... didn't end the very long stream of oh so creative comments from well meaning men whose wives forced them to come. Give me a break, we had already ordered the invites when I figured it out... blame my sister who was still in High school and couldn't miss a basketball game. I would never have asked her to, that's how we rolled in the Hall household.

Fast forward to now... we decided to do it up big and head to Maui for a week to celebrate the big day. We went from Jan 20-27th. A great time to escape Oregon's dampness. Maui had been experiencing some rain, but we lucked out and the weather was great the whole time we were there. Some of our adventures included:

Biking off the Volcano. The volcano in Maui starts with an H and is a LOT of syllables. It is also 10,026 feet above sea level. For those of you who don't really know about such things... I ran a marathon at Lake Tahoe which covered from 6800 - 7000 feet. I had issues at that altitude, to the point of having to (ugh) walk at times and had a bronchial event after the fact that still affects me today. At 10,000 feet, I could barely get a full breath. The view was breathtaking and our very cool guide named Kimo was amazing and fact filled, also quite funny. After we toured around the crater we then drove down to a more human 6500 ft. for our "take off" point.

Now, at this point I should add that I'm not really a biker gal. I mean, I biked a TON as a kid. I was pretty able at managing a bike in my youth, I just hadn't really been... oh, how do you say??? A youth in a while. I didn't let this small fact bother me. I hopped on that bad boy and promptly freaked out! I was heading down a freaking mountain on a tiny little bike lane and having to break so much that my hands were cramping and my forearms were really tight because I was really nervous. It was a very nerve wracking first few miles, I'm not gonna lie. In fact, had there been a "bike cam" it would have sounded like this:"Whoa! Oh! Man! Whoa! Crap!" AND repeat! After the first few miles I became more sure of myself and by the end of the ride (22 miles) I was a pro. It was a blast and I am really glad I did it.

Adventure #2 was snorkeling at Molokini. This probably isn't an adventure, but I qualify it as one and I'll get to why. We got on a Catamaran and motored off toward Molakini. Along the way we saw a bunch of whales which are in Maui this time of year having and making babies. So cool! We get there and set off to snorkel. This is where the adventure is, for me. Bruce is part fish and loves this, I, however struggle. I, under normal circumstances have approximately 4 respirations per minute. I think this is a pretty low number. Put a snorkel mask on me and that number quadruples! It's quite a sight. I have snorkeled successfully quite a few times, but it's never without trepidation on my part. The trip to Molokini was no exception. My mask was leaking (stray hairs, I think) so I ended it early, but saw some cool fish and wasn't disappointed, Bruce had a blast, so all was well.

Next we departed to "Turtle Town" which is not a real place, put your globes away. It's a spot where the giant sea turtles are known to be. We got there, I got in, having fixed the rogue hairs and feeling way better about the mask situation. Immediately, I saw this giant one, so cool, just like the movie "Finding Nemo". I puttered around, having minded what our captain had told us about being still and letting them come to us. I saw another turtle and was smiling about my turtle seein' self. I then headed to the boat and got to see my third giant turtle. I was feeling pretty spunky and swam back to the boat. Turns out I saw the most turtles that day (murky waters). Got in the boat and looked over the side in time to snap a pic of one last turtle dude swimming under our boat. So, Turtle Town is my new favorite place!

We also went to this really funny comedy show and had lazy beach days but I would be remiss if I didn't share one of our people watching moments. We had staked out a place on the beach (Kaanapali). One of our first days we noticed that the waves were breaking on the shore. Quite dangerous. We watched a few unsuspecting folks get slammed. We chuckled, once we saw they weren't hurt, but Bruce mentioned that nothing would ruin the day quicker than seeing someone get hurt. Then this lady, who if I'm guessing was probably close to my age or older, so let's say mid 40's to 50. She wandered out into what Bruce and I had named the "Death roll". It was this place on the beach that just slammed you to the shore. She walked out there and in less than 30 seconds was SLAMMED to the beach. She staggered out of there, her bikini was askew and quite frankly... well... her boob was out! Her hair was a mess, she had sand all over her body, she was wrecked! Thank God, she was unhurt, but, bless her heart, she sat down in the sand and just put her head in her hands. She didn't fix her hair or anything, she just sat there. I was intrigued. A while later, her brilliant husband comes out of the ocean like a Merman... He sits with her a while and all of a sudden, I say to Bruce, "they're on the move". Holy Heck! They both start sprinting toward the surf, only when I say sprinting, I mean that she has these little choppy steps that don't really make her move very fast and sure as heck... BAM! Slammed again! She came back out again, sat down in much the same manner. Her husband came back and decided against another pep talk. They disappeared, never to be heard of again. Oh my!

We began our 26th year with a run together. Very appropriate, since we met as college XC runners. We have never really run together much since Bruce has always been faster than me. At this point in our lives, we are at a place and a pace that allows a run together. We don't manage it much at home due to schedules, but on this very beautiful morning of our 25th anniversary in Maui, we did. It was nice. We ran like 5 miles and enjoyed it very much. I thought if was a very apt beginning to our next 25 years together.

Our lovely week ended, but we'll be back. We always manage a vacation, I think we've done that well over our 25 years and feel confident we'll continue on that journey. So, to you nay sayers, I say to you, don't feel ashamed, you probably had a good thought; what did us couple of kids know back in 1986... we didn't, but I thank God every day because He did.

Dudster has been married 25 years.

What will 2011 bring?

Happy New Year! I had in my head, for some reason, Frosty the Snowman when he first comes to life. He says "Happy Birthday!" His voice was in my head when I typed that first line. Weird. Anyway, I shall try to focus. I wanted to post a blog tonight about New Year's resolutions and some other thoughts.

I have been reading a friend's blog tonight. Her blog is titled "Andrew's Mom". She lost her dear son this year. He passed from this earth as a teenager and went to Heaven in June. She has been bravely and eloquently sharing her journey with people through a blog and tonight I read 3 of her entries which got me to thinking.

The first one I read was from Christmas Eve. She shared about him not being there and also a poem from the vantage point of a loved one who has passed and that they are spending Christmas with Jesus this year. Her angst that while she knows he is in a better place, she still misses him, brought me to tears. After the poem she wrote:

Dear Jesus--please give my boy a hug for me today. Kiss him gently on the forehead and tell him how much I love him, today and always.

Pretty powerful. The second blog I read was a memorandum of 2010, she recapped some of the famous people who passed in 2010. I had forgotten some on the list, but quite a few of my favorite celebs had passed, I'd forgotten, as we do. This blog ended with this quote:

Even though I feel profound sorrow at the passing of Andrew, I also feel profound joy at being called to be his mother. What a gift he was to us.

I salute you Roseann, you are a rare person who, in your sorrow can minister to many with your honesty. What a gift our children are to us, I have thought that often.

The last blog entry I read tonight was about smells and the memories they evoke. Roseann shared that her son's room no longer smelled as strongly like him. After 7 months, his smell had dissipated. Only a mom can appreciate this, especially a mom of boys. Again, I was moved to tears. The power of smell. Having grown up on a pig farm, I can tell you, smells bring you right back to places and people in time. Roseann articulated this waning smell like this:

I think I am afraid the day will come and I won't feel him as near to me as I feel him right now. But that really won't happen. How can I think that I will ever forget that soul whose body was a part of my body for nine months and a part of my life for sixteen years?

It is heartbreaking. I can't comprehend and yet my friend is so eloquent and honest that I can, a bit.

So, sharing these tidbits from "Andrew's Mom" I have been convicted to make a small New Year's Resolution list. I pretty much despise New Year's Resolutions. Having been a runner my whole life, I scoff at the people who say "This year I'm going to work out!" Only to quit after a month. I feel like they're silly. This year, I will make one.

• I will trust in God that what's around the bend for me is His plan and if I lean into Him and spend more time with Him, He will prepare me for what is ahead.
• I will make more time for things like chatting with my daughter about whatever thing she wants to chat about, even if I feel like I have something else that's more important, I don't.
• I will enjoy the smells of life. I will pick up a sweaty little 3 year old boy and breathe in his "little boy" smell and try not to be melancholy that my boys are no longer little.
• I will live in the moment and not wonder about what is next because what is now is what I need to be doing.

I think that 2011 will bring exactly what God has planned for it. I will brace myself for impact and expect... just what He wants.