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