The Lauren Files: Episode 2

Dear Lauren,

Well, I knew I would not be able to keep up with keeping you up with my running. (Huh?) But here I am, back in the safe confines of my house. Scott has the day/night off and he and boys are watching a movie on Netflix as I pretend to watch said movie. (Disney's "Treasure Planet"... Zzzzz. I just keep waiting for David Hyde Pierce to start a sentence with "My Maris....". Otherwise I am just not interested!) So, I'm taking advantage of the of reprieve of my duties to keep you posted.

It was a whirlwind trip to visit my family in New York. The boys and I were able to see a large chunk of my family, immediate and extended. My little hometown does a bang-up job with the Fourth of July and my mom organized us into a float, "101 Dalmatians." We learned yesterday that we won first place for "Funniest." I'm guessing this distinction had something to do with Mom leading the hoards (we are talking 40-ish 'puppies' on or walking with this float!) over to every fire hydrant along the way so they could 'go'. Hilarious. Or, maybe it was my sister Heather and her Drag Queen-worthy make up job/portrayal of Cruella D'Ville.

There are MAYBE 5 people in this photo who aren't related to me. Yup. Big family. (Notice me in the middle trying to lead everyone in panting like dog? Not many takers!)

My sister, Heather. Obviously 'shy & demure' runs in the family.

There was so much more to our week, but suffice it to say, we got our cousin/sibling/aunt/uncle/niece/nephew/in-law fix and it was great!

There's always a new t-shirt design for Camp Gungah. Team Giessler representin'! 

A few of the 'campers' enjoying the chickens at Iron Kettle Farm, which is owned operated by family friends.

My running went fairly well, too, actually. I was able to take advantage of Gabe's pack 'n play in my parents' room: I slunk out of the house very early on my run days and got back not too long after he was up. Thanks, Mom!! Here's the lowdown on the last week and a half or so:

Thursday 6/27: This was the morning I was leaving for the endless drive to NYS. The boys stayed at camp with Scott so I got up early and ran about 6 miles. (My GPS keeps tracking me going off the road and is overly generous on distances. Very annoying!) I did that horrendous hill near your former 'compound' and cursed you all the while. It was the perfect hard, middle distance to do before the drive.

Friday 6/28: Family funeral. So very many obligations I had to bag the idea of a run.

Saturday 6/29: "I ran a hilly half marathon before 7AM." This was a great run in my old stomping ground, only MUCH farther than I ever would have run as a kid. Nothing like getting out of bed at 4:45 to get your run on!

Sunday 6/30: Church and life. We called it another rest day.

Monday 7/1: Ran a flat 5 miles 'downtown' at 6AM.

Tuesday 7/2: Did 4 miles plus 8 200M repeats at the end. This was at the track at my former high school... which sadly did not exist when I ran there. I slept in and didn't run till 6:30 this day. Noticing a pattern!?

Thursday 7/4: I celebrated the birth of our nation with my toughest run at 'home'. A 5AM almost 9-miler. The plan called for 8 x 3:30 'hard effort' on hills. I miscalculated the distance this would take me so I ended up going MUCH further than necessary.

Behind me you can see the town. It's not the easiest run up and down there, let me tell ya! But an AMAZING view when you're done.

Friday 7/5: rest day.

Saturday 7/6: S'posta do 16. So exhausted from drive home and so hot outside... did 30:00 on elliptical instead. I regret nothing.

Sunday 7/7: 16.5 (-ish... the battery on my phone died before I finished.) This was a very hilly course from camp. I rocked the 6 miles I was meant to do at race pace but I totally bonked at the end. (Along with my phone, I guess!) Even though I hit the road before 5AM it was humid and the biting flies were vicious little bastards. I had at least planned ahead and placed loads of water and a couple of Gu's on the course the evening before, which was maybe the smartest thing I've done this month. This year, maybe! I was all proud of this running effort and my survival thereof... then I got a text from you saying you paced a friend in a MARATHON that day.... Well then.... Bragging rights detracted. :)

Monday (today) 7/8: I was back up at camp overnight and ran just after 6 this morning. It. Was. Horrid. I felt like gills were the appropriate anatomy structure for the humidity level. And if I thought the flies were bad yesterday, this morning they were out of a horror movie. I took off my shirt so I could use it as a fly swatter. Thankfully there are not a lot of cars driving up and down the rural roads at that hour, but I'm sure the few people who saw me thought I was having some kind of a seizure. The most basic 4 mile course from camp is down the hill two miles and back up the hill two miles. I don't know for sure, but I'm confident I walked more than I ran. I was just plain toast.

Annnnyway, tomorrow is another tough-ish work out. (I'm in denial and I STILL haven't checked the schedule to know for sure what's in store...) I also start teaching 1/2 days of summer school. So, I think I need to go to bed and dream of dry heat, dead flies and recovered legs.

Oh, and no. I still haven't registered for that marathon. Hmmm. Guess I should do that. Tomorrow.

Hastily written and poorly edited, I am your dutiful Running Pal,
Phoebe

Marvy Mom Monday: Val Houck edition

Bob and Val, Christmas 2009

A spare Mom. Almost every girl I know has one. Usually it's a best friend's mother who makes you feel like part of the family. She is probably slightly more tolerant of the nonsense of young girls when you're around, but you (and your parents) know you are safe in her home to be a little wild while knowing limits will be set.

For me, that Mom was Valerie Houck. Okay, DOROTHY Valerie Houck, but I didn't know her first name was Dorothy until I was 15 or 16... Then we incessantly called her "Dot" or "Department of Transportation" or "Polka" or... well, you get the idea. Bless her, she chortled at our relentless puns on her given name and never once did what I think I would have done: lost my sh*t and said, "ENOUGH!" See what I  mean about tolerant?

Val's daughter, Kristin, was my best friend from the time we were in Mrs. Telford's first grade class together. (Marvy Mom Monday fans may remember Mrs. Telford's daughter-in-law, Chris, from a previous post. Small town, I tell ya!) Kristin's life fascinated me because she was, for all intense and purposes, an only child. She had grown up half siblings (okay, they were probably like 18 or 20, but that was full-on adult to a 6-year-old!) who were out of the nest by the time she and I became friends. Going to her house was ah-MAY-zing because there was no one there to argue with about what channel to watch or who took whose seat on the couch or any of that stuff that comes from growing up with 64,000 siblings (give or take). Kristin, of course, also loved to come to our house for the same-yet-opposite reasons: the novelty of a never-ending supply of spare siblings was a nice change from what I suppose must have been a sometimes lonely Only Child existence.

Val and Bob (Kristin's dad) were always happy to have me or most any of Kristin's friends spend time at the house. Random flashbacks of times with Kristin that should have driven her parents completely bonkers include:

• our mocking of their love of polka music, which we played loudly on their honest-to-God 8-track player 

• identifying skeevy guys and referring to them as "loin burners" - a phrase which Val adopted herself and used with a familiar twinkle in her eye

• dressing up in (and being horribly judgmental about!) Val's finest polyester pant suits for 70's day at school

• finding Val's HS yearbook and peeing our pants over the comments from her peers... including the one from my Mom who wrote "I'll always remember our gay times in the woods." OH MAN! Obviously that didn't mean the same thing in 1960 as it did in 1989 or so. We never recovered fully from the hilarity of that one!

• a birthday party in 3rd grade when one somewhat notoriously sensitive attendee began to bawl hysterically because her whistle-shaped lollipop broke; I can't remember exactly what Val said but it was akin to, "Oh, Janey, get over it!"

That last one shocked me and gave me an internal fit of giggles because I finally realized where Val's breaking point was: spoiled brattiness! Of course the list could go on for days, but these give you the flavor of the laid back and kind Mama we are talking about.



Val spent the last year-and-a-half or so battling cancer. She and her family went through hell with a frightening diagnosis... which would lead to unexpected recoveries.... followed by mysterious symptoms.... alleviated by surgeries and meds and good old fashioned love... Her medical team deemed that life saving options were all tapped out and she went to hospice. There, the atmosphere of "sleep when you want, eat what you want, get out of bed when and if you want...." was the exact "medicine" she needed. Yes, Val "graduated" from hospice and went home for several months! Those of us far away but following her Caring Bridge site (from whence I filched these photos and to which I am so indebted!) were in awe of her comeback, but not really surprised. I can't imagine how those in the thick of it must have felt.

Val's sister, Jean (right), had her own battle with cancer. Here you can see the good humor and strength which helps this amazing family cope. (I personally would have gone with a lime green boa and bright red wig but I suppose their options were limited!)

But, untreatable cancer is untreatable cancer. And this morning, Val passed away peacefully - back at hospice - with her family by her side. Her niece, Denise, reports that Val told the nurse on Saturday "I'm going home."

I am so sad for my dearest girlhood friend. I am so sad for Bob. I am so sad for everyone who knew and loved Val and whose hearts will ache for her always and forever. I am, though, glad to know that she is at last at peace and "home".

Val, thanks for the millions of laughs. The thousands of free meals. The hundreds of overnight accommodations. And thanks for creating and nurturing the best best friend a little girl could have.

Val, Bob & Kristin. August 2010. Kristin is expecting her first baby this May. It's a girl...

I wouldn't be who I am today without Dorothy Valerie (Strong) Houck. And I'm just one of thousands who can say that.

P.S. In case you didn't think my world was small enough, Val is the aunt of Kelly Ward Spivey, also of Marvy Mom Monday fame!

Pumpkins 2011

In a small step towards not being the worst parents in the world, we did manage to get "secure pumpkins" off of the to do list this weekend. 

While our trip to Moulton Farm was amusing, I've yet to find any place that compares to Iron Kettle Farm in  my hometown of Candor, NY. Every fall this place becomes the Disney World of Upstate New York. People literally travel from hours to enjoy the clever pumpkin displays (lots of nursery rhymes, movies, etc.), hay rides, corn maze, baby farm animals... It's an amazing display and even more meaningful this year, I'd say, given the terrible September flooding in the area. If you've never been or never heard of it, click on that link and check it out. Pretty clever and very reasonable prices for their special activities (browsing the pumpkin display is free).

Tommy was drawn to the beer bellied guy; Elliott had no problem being the.. Olive Oil?... character.

In front of the corn maze, which read "No Farms, No Food". Good point!

We chose not to pay the $16 it would have cost us to walk the maze. Given that we bought almost $40 is produce, I don't think the farm suffered much from our cheapness.

Hooping the pumpkins.

Tommy managed to ring the 20-pointer, but none of us witnessed it. (Note Dad in the background dealing with a work situation).

Pumpkin bowling....

The boys did up their pumpkins on Sunday while I was at a performance of Little Shop. Tommy went for a Angry Birds theme and Elliott had a (accidental, I think) droopy-eyed guy. I wish they had carved them and not painted them, but they insisted. Saved a lot of trouble/stress/mess, I suppose. These boys take after their mother in the "let's just get this craft thing over with" arena.

It was a very successful opening weekend of Little Shop of Horrors. I will have to hijack someone's photos and share them soon! Have a good Monday, if that isn't too much of an oxymoron for you....

Tuesday Tough Grrrrllll!: Continuing Education Edition

Some interesting things happening in the marathon training/fitness department in the last few days. Traveling for the wedding made it a unique challenge (though motivational speakers would call it an "opportunity", I'm sure...) Here's some what I did, modifications I made, and new things I learned....

Saturday's workout (scheduled for 12 miles w/ 4 at marathon pace) I planned to flip-flop with Sunday (30 minutes easy with 6 x 100 sprints) because I had to make the long trek to Candor. I stayed at camp w/ Scott and the boys but when Saturday dawned, my body was still very achy. Add to that the fact that I was eager to get on the road and, well, I just decided to shower and get on the road. I made good time, got to make some stops along the way to shops and a farmer's market I've always wanted to visit... and got to Candor by 3PM. I decided to stop "down town" and do my work out. My parents happened to be in town anyway at the church cleaning up from a service so I went there, said hello, changed into my running clothes and hit the pavement, literally taking a jog down memory lane. Candor has a great, mostly flat, not-quite-2-mile loop "around town" that was perfect for a decent chunk of my 30 minutes easy. Hello, Park Drive. Hello, Maple Grove Cemetery. Hello, ice cream store. Hello, Catatonk Creek and upper dam... The memories of high school track continued as I looped around the school property. Almost every track practice from 7th grade to senior year began with a warm up "perimeter". Finished up with my 6 x 100's on the track which, I like to remind the kids, was not even a DREAM for us tracksters back in the day. (The port-o-potty on site is fully functional, FYI)... I jogged back to the church parking lot and felt relaxed and without guilt from skipping the workout. Win!

Sunday morning I got up at 6AM to do the 12 miles. It was not the easiest thing hopping out of bed. My sister, Heidi, my mom and I had gone out for a drink after the Candor Community Chorus' annual July 4th concert the night before. It was just one drink but the thing that hit harder was the hour I went to bed: around midnight. PLUS, my chatty (in the best way) sister and I shared a VERY comfy, schmancy hotel-worthy bed... it was challenging, at best, to drag my arse out of it! But, drag my arse I did! I ran down my parents' dirt road (VERY steep) into town and took a right. I decided it would be simplest to just do 6 miles out and back. I did the first 2 miles as warm up and wanted to get the marathon pace miles over with on the first half of the trip. What I didn't expect/remember were the pretty significant hills on the back roads that I chose. To make up for mile 3 of 4 "at pace" (which was necessarily [gasp, gasp] slow due to incline) I did another .5 miles at pace or a bit faster after I turned around. Because of the hills (the last 1.5 or so being plain old ridiculous!) my pace overall was pretty embarrassing, but I know it was a good workout and I am happy I got it in before the wedding hoopla began.

After church that morning, Heidi (who briefly considered getting up to do a couple of miles with me in the early AM) convinced me to do a "10, 9, 8" workout with her. (This is the continuing education portion of this post...) Heidi is a high school and cross country track coach. While she claims not to be a runner, she really is. Plus, she knows her stuff when it comes to training. "10, 9, 8" is a 6-minute workout in which you do 10 jumping jacks, 10 sit ups, and 10 push ups; then, 9 jumping jacks, 9 sit ups, and 9 push ups. You continue this until you get down to 1 of each. It's great and, as Heidi said, it's really just a way to trick yourself into do 55 push ups. We both did modified (with our knees down) push ups, but it was a good little workout on top of my run that morning. Plus Heidi claimed it would make our arms look totally cut at the wedding: Win!

The wedding was unbelievably amazing and I owe it an entire post, but I did learn another something about running (kind of) in its wake. I had a very good time and drank... ummmm... a bit. Not a ton, honestly, because I was very busy dancing and talking and generally making merry... but I definitely indulged beyond your average weekend. What I learned on Monday morning was that the recovery from a hard workout and recovery from a "hard party" are the same: chocolate milk, protein, stretching, nuun tablets... I didn't happen to have any Advil, but I think that would have been good, too. Sleep would have been even better, but I had to hit the road so it was not an option.

Today, Tuesday, I was scheduled to do a 20 minute warm up followed by 1 minute uphill "hard" x6 with the downhill each time as a recovery. Since I had saddled Scott with the boys all weekend and they were eager to get home last night, I couldn't and didn't want to do the "boys with Dad on Monday night" thing. So... improvise was called for. After dropping Tommy off at theater camp, I got Elliott started outside playing and ran around the back yard for 20 minutes. Then, since there are hills EVERYWHERE in these parts EXCEPT in my yard, I did 60-second "sprints" up and down the step of my deck. I took a jog around the house between each set for recovery. I know this is not the same as running up hill, but it turned out to be a good workout: my heart was humming right along! Finally, because I was so inspired by Heidi's "10, 9, 8" I went inside and did that. I changed the jumping jacks to lunges, though, since I was all set with cardio and I know lunges totally knock me out. (In a good way).

So, that's the scoop with various Tough Grrrrllll-ness for the past few days. Hope you are able to be a Tough Grrrrllll this week, too!

Finally, I leave you with the traditional Wedding Pyramid created by some of the best people I know. (What? You've never heard of the traditional Wedding Pyramid??? Yeah, pretty sure Heidi made it up on Friday at another wedding and brought it to us on Sunday. You gotta admit, though: good tradition!)

Marvy Mom Monday: Mom-isms Edition

I'm "home" this weekend for a wedding. Spending time with my parents and siblings in my hometown got me thinking about stuff I heard growing up. The wisdom (or nonsense, depending) that shaped how I did things, why I did things & what I believed. Most of it, of course, stemmed from my mom. Here, I share some classic Mom-isms, some of which are universal and some of which I'm pretty sure are unique to my Mom. I'm lucky to have the assistance this time around from my sister, Heidi, who, when I brought it up, immediately came up with 2 or 3 that I hadn't even thought of!

What color buns do you want? (A threat that rarely led to a spanking).

When you have sex you burn the equivalent calories of a beer and a ham sandwich. (Seriously, she said this. I have NO idea where it came from. And Heidi does not remember hearing it.)

O-U-S-H-I-T. (Stemming from before we could spell... but it stuck).

Uppy, uppy, uppy! (Overly cheerful, sing-song morning wake up).


You would look so nice with a perm. (She was ALWAYS wrong about this. But until I was about 14 I always fell for it.)

Eat that [crust/vegetable/etc.] it will put hair on your chest. (A little-known goal for her daughters).

Hold your water.

Hold your horses.

Where's the Kissin' Bug???? (Followed by a hmmmmmmmm and zoom in for rapid smooches to a baby or very small child.)

O-U-T OUT!

Disappear!

Do you want me to get the wooden spoon?

Do you want me to pull down your pants and spank you right here in front of all these people?!?!

Dinner will ready/he'll be home/the waitress will be back... as soon as I finish this cigarette.

Socks. Glass. Shoes. Note book. Back pack. (This was the annoyed, list voice that she used when she had had it with the pigsty in our house. I use the SAME voice with my kids!)

Stop it. Right now. Both of you. (Also a classic I use on my kids).

I always did love you best.

You're not at all well. (When one of us did or said something weird).

Wonnnndeeerrrrrfullll!

She's such a sexpot. (In reference to any girl with apparently loose morals).

Honeybabe.

Harriett. (Universal girls' name).

George. (Universal boys' name).

Turkey turd.

Piss pot. (I got is trouble in first grade for using this phrase. I had never thought about what it actually meant. I wonder what would happen if a sex pot and a piss pot got together...)

"Mom, I want a Popsicle."
"I'll sicle your Pop." (Somehow switching the sentence around was hilarious and gave the clear message: no way are you getting what you want and you know why).

If you pee in the road you get a sty in your eye.

White spots on your fingernails come from telling lies.

You're lucky you have oily skin; when you're an adult you won't get wrinkles. (How very, very wrong she was!!)

I Am From...

(Perhaps you can hear the GRRRRR! from where you are? Blogger has mysteriously decided that the 2 childhood photos I want to post with this are impossible to upload. Trust me, they are adorable. Grrrrrrr!)

On Marvy Mom Monday you may recall that I posted a piece written by my mom. It was inspired by a blog I follow, In the Trenches of Mommyhood, who was inspired by another writer who was inspired by.... Anyway, it all came from this template.

It's a great exercise for your memory and your soul so I highly recommend it. By the way, if you grew up with me (looking at you Heather & Heidi!) I would suggest NOT reading this and doing your own first. I think it would be a cool experiment to see what we have in common and also, I think it would be impossible to come up with my own after reading yours!



I am from the red felt wall paper, from Nestle's Quick and homemade bread.

I am from the top of Benton Road... haven, secluded, the view from heaven.

I am from the weeping willows, wild roses, rhubarb and impassible dirt roads; the apple trees, the lilacs and the allergies they induced.

I am from the dark Halloween walks to the cemetery and the snorting laughter and the weak bladders; from the Bardens and VanScoys and Robinsons and Hovers.

I am from the bold, funny, spotlight seekers who drink boxed wine; and the frugal, well-meaning do-rights who drink Utica Club beer.

From the “don't run the water!” and the lightning graces: “Godis goodGodisgreatandwethankHimforourfoodAmen.”

I am from the open-minded, hymn-loving, free-will-offering-at-spaghetti-suppers Episcopalians. From the rehearsal-free Christmas pageants, the matchbox cars on kneelers and the cheerios in plastic bags. From the universal stale smell of a church basements and the comfort that 'faith' does not mean 'lack of doubt'.

I'm from the hospital in Sayre, the farm in Tioga County, the Ward & VanScoy feed mills, the schools of Candor, 27 Spencer Avenue. From the Speedies on the grill and the soft serve ice cream and the July Fourth breakfasts for hundreds.

From Grandpa Barden losing his thumb after Pearl Harbor, from Dad skinny dipping in front of trespassers, from Grandpa VanScoy who died younger every time my father has a birthday.

I am from the trunk in the basement, the hard drives on computers, the VHS tapes. From the bad hair and the bad acne and the bad moods. From the victorious volleyball games and the frustrating gymnastics meets and the soaking wet track meets. From the concerts and the musicals. From the first days of school and the proms and the leaving home.

I am from gratitude and wisdom.

I am from Hope. 



If you choose to do this and wish to share, I would love to post others' "I Am From" pieces on my blog. Think about it, you could be a STAR! (Okay, you could have upwards of 50 people read it... )

Marvy Mom Monday: Theater Origins

(Pssst... this is my 200th post. That's kinda cool.)

My mom is a born performer. If you spend 5 minutes with her, you see it. I don't know exactly where it comes from. While both of her parents were sharp and funny, neither of them had any inclination for the stage... as far as I know. Talking to her classmates at a high school reunion many years ago, I learned she was pretty much hilarious all the time growing up. She was adored for her musical gifts and her stage presence.

There was one small (but made famous by mom) incident of a cast freezing on stage during a play. An an actor dropped a line and everyone froze. Mom, also panicking, said "Tain't my turn!" There's also the myth of being so nervous she peed her pants on stage, but I still wonder about the veracity of that one.

When she was in college at the Crane School of Music, she was in the show "Little Mary Sunshine". In the audience was a producer from New York City. He thought Mom was vocally outstanding and hilarious ("the next Ethel Merman" or something of that nature) and wanted her to come to New York. I swear, she could have been Carol Burnett. But, Mom refused because she knew, as her mother told her, if you are an actress, you can't have children. It was 1961 or '62.... SO close to the Women's Movement... but not close enough!

So, she continued to sing, got her degree in music education, and returned the Candor-area to teach and direct musicals. After she started having kids, she stayed home with us and began directing community theater shows.

My favorite picture of my Mom (sadly, not digitized) is from when she is about my age, 37. It's a profile shot of her with a huge grin (or maybe her mouth is open slightly because she's singing?) and she is a wearing a Washington Senators baseball uniform. For those of you who are not versed in 1950s musical theater, she is conducting the pit band for the show "Damn Yankees".... and clearly loving it! This was completely normal for me to see as a kid. It's just what Mom did. I can't think of a picture where she looks more happy and alive.

(This is not a theater picture, but I am about the age I was when the "Damn Yankees shot was taken. In the photo are my mom's parents, four of my cousins and the six "original" VanScoy kids.)

And I have a huge new appreciation for it now. At that point Mom was the parent of six kids ages 5, 6, 8, 9, 11 and 13. To say that we were an easy-to-care-for lot would be, ummm, well, a big fat lie. My dad, as you may have read yesterday, worked insane hours (6 days a week, from scary o'clock until well after dark). She was managing the declining (physical and mental) health of her mother-in-law who lived next door. And, given that I was 5 and not privy lots of things, I'm sure there were scores of other bumps in her road.

I can't fathom how she did it all, but I'm so glad she did. Thanks to my mom, I was on stage for the first time in "Li'l Abner" when I was 2 or 3 years old. I was in the "Joe Hardy Fan Club" at age 5. In 6th grade I got to play the youngest daughter in "Fiddler on the Roof". In 7th grade I was a River City Kid in "Music Man". She produced "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" when I was in 9th grade, and while I was not in the show, she let me fill in during rehearsals for the Narrator (which happened to be Polly... if you know my blog you know how special THAT is...) which boosted my confidence remarkably. In 11th grade she did "Peter Pan" and I got to play Peter.

(This is the last show my mom directed, "Smoke on the Mountain: The Reunion". Polly and my Dad are in this shot.)

Nowadays whenever I am in a show, Mom makes a point of making the 8-hour trip to my house for Tech Week and opening weekend. It is SUCH a relief to have her here, not only to help me keep the house running and put dinner on the stove, but to talk about the show. With fresh eyes, she notices things that I don't see. And often she notices things I HAVE seen a hundred times which have been driving me crazy but are out of my control. There is NOTHING like your mama when you need some confidence and a fan. (And a load of laundry folded...)

I just got some disappointing news about an audition. Not end-of-the-world news, but "aww, geeze, I don't feel like I really got a chance" news. I sure wish that I, a 37-year-old Mom, could sit down and have a glass of wine with the 37-year-old Mom that was my mom then. Just before dispensing meds and guiding her mother-in-law back to her own house.... and just after struggling with six kids about homework and clean rooms and not fighting... and right around the time she was putting in the 5th load of laundry and making dinner... Yeah, somewhere in there I'm sure she would have said something very funny to cheer me up!

Random Brain Droppings on Dad

My dad is like no other.

Now he drives a decent car but he was forever driving beaters when we were kids. Thrifty, he'd say. (Mom might say "cheap".)

He worked for 100 years as a feed miller amongst cultural conservatives who liked their bosses male, their politicians & neighbors white, and their entertainers straight. Yet, he is an NPR-listening, New York Times-reading, multi-racial adopting, Broadway showtune-loving, Alan Alda-appreciator.

When I was very small he used to pull in the driveway in his white pickup with music blaring from the radio. The vehicle said "country" but, of course, the speakers were screaming with Vivaldi or Stravinski, never Willie or Reba.

He'd do anything for his kids. And this is possibly his only fault.

He worked insane hours when I was growing up and now greatly enjoys the hours he gets to spend with his grandchildren during developmental stages that must have gone by in a blur when he was raising us.

Despite those hours of work, he ALWAYS made it a priority to be at volleyball games, track meets, basketball games, soccer games, gymnastics meets, concerts, plays..... I don't know that there is a proper measure for such things, but I bet he was always the proudest parent in the stands or audience.

When something in our car or house breaks and we aren't sure what to do, I always call Dad first. He just knows stuff. (And what he doesn't know he does a remarkable job of making up and sounding good!)

He set the bar very high for his daughters' husbands. We just assumed all men wanted their wives to do the things that they loved! My mom has in my dad her best friend and biggest fan. There would have been no theater in my life if my dad hadn't supported my mom in directing all those shows. He is proud to call himself Mr. Hope VanScoy.

He's so very different from my husband. And yet they are both the very best at their Dad-ness.

Mostly when I think about my dad, I think.... I'm lucky.

Love the One You're With

It was not an auspicious start to my run today. On the docket was 4 miles at race-pace, 800M "fast" and then 2 miles at race-pace. This 6.5 miles (plus recovering in between) takes kind of awhile. I knew that if I left the house at my usual time (4:50 AM) I was going to be - literally - running late. So, I set my alarm for 4:15 hoping to get out the door by 4:30 or 4:35. Unfortunately, I switched it from AM to PM when I set it. This is about the 5th time I've fouled up setting my alarm on my cell phone; one would think I would be smarter than this by now. One would be wrong!

So, I opened my eyeballs and thought, "Uh oh, it's too bright out for it to be earlier than 4:30." I was right. It was 4:47. After a 2-second "maybe I should just bag the whole thing" conversation in my head, I rushed out of bed and got dressed to go.

Now, I don't know about where you live, but here in New Hampshire we have had, ahem, a little rain. It was literally been raining since last Saturday. I have been pretty lucky that the precipitation has eased up some during my running times (except Sunday when I got totally washed away on my easy 8-miler). When I got about 2 miles from the track, the misty/sprinkle-y type rain became a full blown deluge. "Forget it. You weren't meant to do this today. Dunkin Donuts is open. Go to Dunkin Donuts and give yourself a break."

But I didn't. I parked the car at the track and started the first part of my run. Thankfully, the downpour eased up considerably and I merely got soaked on the run, as opposed to drown. My times were slower than I need them to be. I am hoping to run a sub-1:45, which means I need to run faster than 8:01 miles. I am shooting for 7:55s so that I have insurance as the miles get harder at the end of the race.

I didn't run 7:55s.
I didn't run 8:01s.
I ran 8:10s.

This isn't a total disaster. I mean, it was 5AM. I had fueled up at all. I had no warm up. It was raining. But, I'm starting to think I might need to face the fact that I stand a good chance of not achieving that sub-1:45.

As I was finishing up the first 4 miles, my iPod played "Love the One You're With." Now, taken literally, this song is pretty cynical, the message being: "Your love is out of town/unavailable, what the hell? Hook up with that chick over there... she's pretty cute." For some reason I like to run to it, though. It reeeallly got me thinking today.

(And now the blog takes a weird turn away from running so please be sure your seat belt is fastened and your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position)....

See, I just found out that a close friend of mine from high school is (once again) making national news because of her incredibly important research on cancer causing chemicals in household products. She is brilliant and a Professor at Duke and I can't think of anyone more deserving of recognition. She is completely self-made. First person in her family to go to college. She paid for everything herself. Not surprisingly, she was our class valedictorian. Guess who was the salutatorian?

Me.

Guess who spent a good deal of yesterday trying to make a 2-year-old follow the rules and not hit and not grab toys from others and not jump off the couch and not throw food and not put feet on the table? Guess who was NOT, say, finding ways prevent dangerous chemicals from ending up in the things we use to raise our children?

Yeah. Me.

Now, I have no desire to be a Professor at Duke. I never did. I was way more "social science" than "hard science" in school. I didn't have the fire in my belly to be that brand of successful. But, there was a time when I maybe could have been the journalist who interview her about her work. There was a time when I maybe could have been the PR person who helped promote her work. There was a time when I maybe could have been something other than what I am. Deep, dark, horrible wall of not knowing my destiny and not understanding my place right here....

So, back to "Love the One You're With". I got to thinking about how that song can be about a lot more than who your smooching. This morning I got thinking that although I know I am not in a great place career-wise, I CAN love the things about it that are good. I can love the time I get to spend with Elliott. I can love that I don't have to write report cards or dress up or wear make-up or commute. I can love that I don't have to do lesson plans or justify grades. I can love that I don't have to pay for daycare or worry about who is watching my kid. I am hoping that even thought I can't Love the Job I'm With I can Love Certain Aspects of the Job I'm With while I keep searching for another opportunity that will make me feel whole-r.

Aaaaannnnd.... I can Love the One I'm With with regard to my training. I was not loving this workout this morning. But after that song, I realized that I was in the middle of maybe the hardest workout of my whole training schedule. If I could get through it, then that's one step closer to my 1:45 or less.

Oh, and that last 2 miles I was supposed to do at race pace (or about 7:55 per mile)... I did 'em - in a complete downpour - at 7:13. I bet our class valadictorian can't do that.

"Love the One You're With"

Glad

Glad it is really Spring now.
Glad we had our first Puddle Boots Day today.
Glad we heard the deep-voiced frogs that hang out in the woods behind our back yard last night.
Glad we had our first Bubble Blowing today.
Glad there's ALMOST no snow left on the decks of the house.
Glad I got up at 4:30 to do a track workout - my first attempt at Scary O'clock at the track.
Glad I'll be seeing my family and Polly's People in just a few days.
Glad Tommy won't have to endure Saturday school this week... it's a FULL day!
Glad Elliott seems truly excited about the idea of Kindergarten.
Glad we are looking at family vacation options for mid-June.

But.... still sad and a little mad at the Universe.

Maybe it's 'cuz I'm a Vegetarian...

... the universe thinks there's not enough iron(y) in my diet. Maybe.

I was all set to kick off my 2011 race season (New Year's Resolution to run 6 races this year... I have run ZERO so far. EEK!) on Sunday. I picked the Great Bay Half Marathon specifically for a couple of reasons.

1. It's a 1/2 marathon. This is a great distance, in my humble opinion, because it requires real effort in training but no insane weekend runs that basically preclude you from being human for the next 24 hours.
2. I can't run the 1/2 I PR'd (1:45... woot!) in last year (The Big Lake Half Marathon) because I have made a commitment to attend a "School for Vestries".... My nod to God over running, I hope, will be remembered by the judges when I kick off.
3. It's on a rare Spring weekend day when Scott Giessler is not otherwise committed to Kingswood Theater or The Village Players or William Lawrence Camp or The Jedi Council... Well, one of those is a joke. But, my man is working on The Perfect Year and in so doing is Perfectly Busy.
4. There's an accompanying 5K that some friends are going to be doing.... So I'd have people to hang with before, people to cheer me at the finish, and people to celebrate (or commiserate) with afterward. And of course....
   
5. There is beer available at the finish!

So, what's so ironic, you wonder? Well, The Freakin' Fools Blizzard (I named it this) is trotting into town tonight and tomorrow (April 1st...). This has resulted in a change of schedule for the State Drama Festival. It was scheduled from Friday to Saturday but now... my conning plan to have Scott watch the kids all day Sunday so I can be a real muthah runnah has fallen short. Instead, he will be in Gilford with his students hoping that everyone there loves Dispatches from Candor. As well they should.

Honestly, everything hinged on this one aspect of the race. There's nothing worse than going to a race and worrying about what your kids are doing. If they're happy or miserable. If they're being naughty or angelic.... Especially since they won' t be with my husband. Add to that the stress of not only making sure I have my own race stuff together but amusements and food and drink and warm clothes and Lord knows what else for them. Remember, The Giessler won't even be home AT ALL on Saturday (it's an overnight event) so I have to get the ducks in a row solo, too.

I have recruited a friend's daughter to come with us and watch them. And the Muthah Runnahs who are doing the 5K have promised to swoop in when they are finished running and recovering.... But aaarrrrgh! What a headache.

My gut is telling me that even though I am inspired on almost every run by Polly and her courage and struggles to the end... something in the universe of this play does NOT want me to run. I am missing out on Boston for the play. Now I am struggling with whether or not to go to this race because of this play. What's up with that!?

I got some sage advice from Sarah Bowen Shea after I sent her a whiney email about my troubles. She said, basically, "oh just do it!" I won't be able to hear my kids whine. They will survive. They will find things to amuse themselves. And once I'm out there, I will be SO happy I did it.

All true.

She's so smart.

But between now and then, I plan to worry. Because it's ever-so-helpful!

Dispatches...

So very much to say about the premiere of "Dispatches From Candor" this weekend. I wrote this to a friend on FB:

I so wish you could see this show we wrote. I'm, like, really proud of it! Was worried it wouldn't have universal appeal since people here didn' t know Polly. It seems to have struck a major chord, though. Should have known: every family has pain and love and tragedy and mistakes and grudges and laughter...

First, it was amazing to have my parents and Jamey here to see it. My mom and dad's reaction in particular was very important to us and a pretty good litmus test to how the rest of the friends & family will feel when the curtain closes. Also, it was just plain good to have them here for a few days. I just really, really love my parents and they really, really love us. They're too infrequent and too brief, but our visits are always just awesome.

Just thinking about Polly's People seeing and experiencing these amazing kids in this show puts a lump in my throat. Of course, now that the "strangers" have seen the show, I've got new anxieties about what the Home Team will think.

Such as...
1) The names and major life events are changed, but will anyone who inspired these flawed but beautiful characters feel betrayed?

2) Will we have changed the people and events TOO much... In other words, are people going to expect to come to this show and see Polly's life story? Boy, I hope not.

3) What if nobody shows up???

Those are the top three, anyway. I guess it's important that I worry, just like Polly and Grandma Barden would. I'm going to rub my hands together and looked concerned now... just like Polly and Grandma Barden would.

Boston marathon note.... Just learned that another person may pick up my Race Packet on the weekend of the marathon... Kevin Spearl has agreed to do so for me so I will at least get to pin the bib to my Wall of Bibs! A very important keepsake for sure.

Blog neglecter

Here's a titch of what's going on in the various parts of my life.

1) My foot hurts. I've been trying to stick to the training plan for the 1/2 marathon on April 4. The light-er evenings have enticed me to sleep in and try to work out in the afternoons. This means the elliptical (boys are at home, of course) but yesterday I found a patch of dirt/mud right beyond my driveway that could do spints, skipping, high knees, butt kicks, grapevines... It was a walk down memory lane to jr. high/high school track because that's how we spent a good deal of March: in the gym going back and forth with those. I didn't a pretty tough 30 minutes on the machine and then spent 10 or 12 minutes killing myself outside doing those. It was good to be out in the fresh air during daylight hours. Smelled like mud. In good way.

But... as I said... my foot hurts. It started hurting in the last couple of miles of my 11.5 on Saturday. Shouldn't be surprised since I haven't done that kind of distance in over a month and my shoes are old. What's bothersome now is that it hurts today just walking around on it. Grrrr.... Icing and holding my breath.

2) Gungah & Papa are on their way! I can't believe it's already time for the "World Premiere" of Dispatches from Candor. Seems like mere moments ago Scott & I were returning from Polly's funeral and the weekend-to-end-all-weekends and discussing how the whole thing was ripe for the stage. I am all over the map emotion-wise about it. I've never had anything I've helped conceive be produced. I haven't seen ANY of the rehearsal process so I don't know how the final product is going to look. And I have been keeping fact-of-the-matter out of my head: this play is about Polly, Polly is gone, Polly's place in this world can never be filled... It's going to be hard to watch. I know that Scott does not produce crap so I'm not worried about whether it will be "good"... I just worry about whether we, in our writing, honored Polly and all who love her. No pressure.

3) Jamey is coming. This is Scott's camp buddy from 100 years ago. He lives in Pittsburgh and has recently become an ordained Anglican minister. (Yes, Anglican, not Episcopalian... so if you're interested or versed in the split in the church you know what that implies. If you're not... you can look it up. I'm not going to delve into that here!) Because the show is set in a church and is about the family of an Episcopal priest, he wanted to come and support Scott. It will be interesting to see what he thinks of the show. I am looking forward to going to church on Sunday with my parents who are big fans of the rector at my church... who, by the way, was an outstanding resource and supporter of this show.... I hope Jamey will join us.

4) Praying for less "interesting" medical news for my sister. Enough about that for now but she knows she's gotta knock it off. My head can't even GO to that place where additional information needs to be forthcoming on that end. Breath.

5) Day care has been less stressful but still not a source of joy.

6) Scott is taking his show to festival next weekend. Then he has auditions for a one-act (Buffalo Hill) he is doing w/ the community theater. Then he (very likely) will be taking this show to States. Then we go to Candor with the show. Meanwhile he'll be rehearsing and producing Buffalo Hill. And then camp will start up and he'll be gone 6 out of 7 nights a week. I am putting my head down and getting through it but I've given up on this being my year to do it with a big smile on my face. Maybe 2012.

7) Going to ice my foot.

Learn, re-learn, re-relearn....

How long do I have to be me before I stop having to re-learn the same life lesson?

I let go of Boston. That was totally the right move. I feel good about it.

The training had been going quite well. I was motivated, but I was not over doing it. Last Friday - when I ran in such frighteningly cold weather at a ghastly time in the morning and totally rocked it - I had that fleeting "I Am Kick Ass" feeling that comes 2 or 3 times during a training plan. I blogged about it 'cuz I was more than a little proud of myself. In fact, my arm is still a little sore from patting myself on the back.

However, as I said in my last post, postponing Boston by a year is 100% the right move. I had an incredibly kind - like, maybe the nicest compliment of my life - comment on my Facebook page from a fellow runner (who IS doing Boston) who happens to be a magazine writer. He also happens to be following and writing about the production of "Dispatches From Candor". In response to my status update declaring my decision, he said "I, for one, admire your dedication to this play and taking it to Candor. I think it is one of the stories of the year for the Lakes Region."

Can't beat THAT as far as supportive and understanding!

So far I have nothing to replace it. I am probably going to do Eastern States in late March, which is a flat, 20-miler. (Never done a 20-miler so guaranteed PR.. Woo hoo!) I think I'm doing a 5K in March with a couple of friends. But I don't have anything truly different to do.

My best idea so far lasted about 8 hours. I was going to run the breast cancer 3-Day. I envisioned myself chugging along at a slow, easy pace. Maybe taking 5-hours to run 20 miles on day 1 and day 2 and then cranking out everything I had left for the final leg on day 3. It wouldn't be an ultra... but kinda it would. I was totally jazzed at the idea. Then.... I found out they don't let you run the 3-Day. It makes sense. I mean, they don't want it to turn into a race. I was disappointed, though.

I could sign up for the Ultra portion of the Niagara marathon I did last June. It's "only" 31 miles, give or take. That's not too bad. I'm still considering it.

But.... I don't know if I want a race that would take MORE training time. I look at the next 6 or 8 weeks and think of the time and energy (and love) that will need to go into Scott's shows. It would be really cool if this year, for once, I didn't moan and groan and sulk because he was away from home so much and stressed about giving birth to another show. I really owe him that on this one. So, will continuing on my marathon training - even though I don't have a marathon on tap! - be the right move?

My behavior this weekend would indicate... No. I didn't run Friday. Snow day. Scary roads. I didn't run Saturday. Went to the mall ALL morning/afternoon and then off to a fun night out with a friend. Really no excuse except I didn't feel like getting up early. I barely ran today (4 miles).

So... where am I? What I am doing? What's my point?

And why, why, why am I eternally asking this ridiculously adolescent question?

Dispatches from Candor

Draft press release to the Candor-area paper re: Scott's show. Hoping to get it to Candor "where it belongs." This is happening Boston marathon weekend. Couldn't think of a more difficult or more perfect time for it to occur. Here's hoping we can make it all come together.

Last fall, the Candor community said good-bye to a woman who inspired thousands. Polly Ann Tompkins, age 39, passed away from breast cancer after a valiant multi-year battle. No one who knew Polly or her story can forget how her spirit, courage, humor and grace demonstrated a life well-lived.

Among those in attendance at her memorial was Scott Giessler, the husband of Polly’s cousin, Phoebe. Giessler is a New Hampshire resident and a high school teacher. He is also the director of the Kingswood High School theater program. For the last several years, Giessler and his students have written and produced original one-act plays each spring. In Candor during that September weekend, he was inspired by the profound faith, joy, pain and love expressed by all who were present.

The kernel of an idea grew and, with input from Phoebe and his students, Giessler wrote Dispatches From Candor, a one-act play inspired by Polly’s life, family and untimely passing. “Although it’s not a biography, the play is in every sense a memorial and meant to reflect what was beautiful about her world,” Giessler said. “There’s highs and lows in it, but there’s beauty in the lows, too.”

The theater students, who of course never knew Polly personally, were immediately intrigued and inspired by her story. They have tirelessly worked to capture the spirit of Dispatches and are excited about the challenge of bringing the play to the stage. Kingswood Theater will be performing the play twice in March at their Arts Center in Wolfeboro, New Hampshire and again as part of a statewide theater festival.

These shows will doubtless be moving to audiences but Giessler was not satisfied. There had to be a way, he thought, to bring the play to the people who knew and loved Polly the most: the people of Candor, NY.

And so, with a good deal of fund raising by the theater students, encouragement from Polly’s family, favors called in and the dumb luck of one empty weekend on the calendar, Kingswood Theater will be bringing Dispatches From Candor to the Candor Jr.-Sr. High School auditorium on Saturday, April 16. Tickets are $8 each or $50 per family and can be purchased by contacting _____ at ______.

Giessler is a native of Massachusetts and became acquainted with Candor during his time at Ithaca College. Something about the town and its people begged to be explored. “I had been looking for an opportunity to write about the community of Candor for a long time and although these events were tragic, they summarize why.”

After working with this show for so long, Giessler’s students are anxious to meet the people and see the places that inspired the play. The group made a unanimous decision to sacrifice a chance to perform at the New England Theater festival in order to be in Candor. They will take an 8–hour bus ride from New Hampshire on Friday night, sleep on the gym floor, utilize the Candor locker rooms for facilities and eat food provided by volunteers from the community. It is their hope, and the hope of Scott Giessler, that the Candor auditorium be filled that Saturday afternoon with the same kind of love and hope that lingered over every moment of Polly’s memorial service and funeral.

Happy, positive post #5

I made it to 5 in a row! This is a good one... and the first of 2011!!

I managed to sneak home and visit my family over Christmas vacation. I say "sneak" because my mom didn't know I was coming. The boys and I headed out on 12/28 (supposed to go on 12/27 but the blizzard had other ideas). This visit was important because ALL my siblings (that's 8 of us in all) and nieces & nephews (that's 18) would be there. So, even though Scott had 4.5 gajillion things to do and had to stay home, the boys and I made the endless trek to Candor for a couple of days.

We had not a ton on the agenda, which was perfect. There was a party on the evening of the 28th. Not a huge crowd (all things being relative) but fun, of course. The boys spent hours and hours and, did I mention, HOURS sledding on Gungah's hill. It was amazing to watch Elliott because for the first outing he just watched everyone else. He was too scared to try it. The next time out Mom found him a cardboard box, which I guess made him feel more secure. He went in that a whole bunch of times and then graduated to the saucers, which were definitely his favorite. Tommy was a "pro" from the get go but did have a little trouble the second day... got up on the wrong side of the bed or something... and had to go inside away from the crowd.

At some point I have been promised a bunch of photos of all the wackiness that ensued (ahem, MOM!) and I'll post some here. It was a great couple of days of being with My People without having to worry about a wedding or a funeral or some other calamity. : )

Thankful posts

I'm doing the Thankful Posts on Facebook everyday until Thanksgiving. This is a pretty easy thing for me to do... but it's because I cheat a little. I just take what I was going to say anyway and say I'm thankful for it. Well, mostly.

But today I'm thinking about my childhood and all the reasons I have to be thankful for it.

The town I hail from is abuzz today because of the arrest of a suspected pedophile. The guy is being brought up on charges for relatively recent (alleged) events. But the word on the street is that this stuff has been going on literally for decades. I don't know what the outcome will be. Whatever it is, lives have already been damaged. (I almost wrote destroyed but I have to leave room for repair in there someplace). If even a fraction of it is true... what does that mean? People I grew up with were violated in the most horrific of ways. And now it's their children who are coming forward with recent allegations. What damage have they done to themselves (and possibly others) because of this? And what on earth happened to this man in his youth to make him commit such abominable acts? And.... how lucky am I that I am not among those who suffered?

So, today I am thankful for my childhood and, by direct association, my parents.


I am thankful for a youth unmarred by neglect and abuse.

I am thankful for the hundreds of opportunities afforded to me.

I am thankful for Owego Scamps Gymnastics, which I was encouraged to pursue, despite the financial burden and the incredible time commitment my parents (and siblings) had to sacrifice.

I am thankful that I was also allowed to stop doing gymnastics when I realized it wasn't fun for me anymore. There was no guilt, no disappointment (that I knew of). Only understanding.

I am thankful for volleyball and track, games and meets which were witnessed faithfully by my parents whenever humanly possible.

I am thankful especially for my senior year of track (and Coach Lauren Jordy) which quite literally changed my life forever. Adolescent drama turned to 1500M success turned to (a dozen or so years later) marathon running.


I am thankful for each of my 7 siblings, some of whom challenged me by always being a little bit better at everything than I was, some of whom acted as a cautionary tale(!), and all of whom I've come to understand a little better with every passing year.


I am thankful for a college education, the pursuit of which was never a question of "if" but merely "where". (And no, despite my degree and most of my Masters credits completed, I STILL don't know what I want to major in!)

I am thankful for community theater. Had I not been the daughter of lovers and producers of musicals I don't think anything in my life would be as it is. My husband and a good chunk of my friends are in my life because of the stage. Who on earth would I be? What on earth would I sing? Where on earth would I spend Sunday & Wednesday nights?!


I am thankful for the encouragement I got to pursue music. I had moderate success in choral singing. I was marginal on the saxophone. And the trombone attempt was downright embarrassing. I'm grateful for all of them because it was a chance for me to work at something that did not come easily to me. (Bass clef... why must you be two notches away from everything I know and understand!?)

I am thankful for my exposure to public radio and classical music and The New York Times and Newsweek and The Wall Street Journal and Little Black Sambo and St. Mark's Episcopal Church and homemade bread and The Christmas Elf and letters from Santa and luminaries on Christmas Eve and Fourth of July breakfast bashes and a Mom in grad school and a Grandma who lived next door and Grandparents who lived on a farm and a Grandma who moved in and cousins and the toughness that comes with running track for a high school that doesn't have a track and...

Well, now it just sounds like I'm bragging. So I'll end by saying I am thankful for my childhood.

Grandma Barden

Scott & I are doing a writing project based loosely on my family. To help us, he's asked me to Blog about some of the "characters". This is a SLIGHTLY fictionalized version of my Grandma Barden. (The only thing that's a stretch, really, is that it was generally Grandpa who did the Halloween spooking. Grandma did take that over after he died, though...)

Grandma Barden

My Grandma Barden had many gifts. But each of these gifts can be broken down into two categories: care taking and ass whooping.

Care taking Grandma was all the soft and lovely stereotypes you might imagine from your Sunday Night Made for Television Movie circa 1983. Despite living her entire marriage on a farm, her house was always spotless and NEVER smelled of manure. It was always toasty warm in the winter and, unbeknownst to us, this was because she and Grandpa would tend the wood stove in the basement diligently through all hours of the day and night. I spent many, many winter nights at their house and I never once knew about the wood stove and all the work that went into maintaining it. It was, truth be told, always about 10 degrees too warm in there in the winter.... Something we always looked forward to. Incredible.

She cooked and baked better than anyone on the planet. Ever. This was mainly due to her reliance on a couple of main ingredients for every single dish she ever prepared: butter and salt.. Every meal had a “real” meat, potato, vegetable and dessert. When packaged foods became available, Grandma didn't shy away from them, but they were NEVER considered a meal. Classic Grandma Barden “snack”: A frozen Tony's pizza. Sounds terrible, right? Tastes like cardboard, right? Not when Grandma is done with it. She would take the pizza, add pats of butter – about ½ a stick, I'd wager - to the top, as well as a good wallop of additional tomato sauce, and THEN put it in the oven. Try it. You will not be sorry. Classic Grandma Barden after school or just before dinner or 10AM snack. Usually served with chocolate milk that she let you stir yourself so you could eat the chocolate powder from the bottom of the glass... if you wanted to.

Ass whooping Grandma was equally loving... but in a tougher way. Grandma had a love/hate relationship with dogs, for instance. She needed them, because they would keep the coyotes away from the animals and bark off salesmen that might want to stop in. But if they didn't mind her, she got down right pissed at them and, truth be told, would not shy away from reminding them what the BB gun was for. She claims she never REALLY shot any of them but one Classic Grandma Barden image is her standing on the porch, pumping the BB gun and shouting “son of bitch!” as the dogs scurried away from the house. “Gee, Grandma,” we used to tease her, “how do those dogs know that they ought to be afraid of that BB gun if you've never shot them?”

Then there was Grandma at Halloween. The farm was right down the road from a cemetery. A “historic” cemetery the grown ups would call it. But to us kids, it was the creepiest, most ancient graveyard on the planet. During the day we would sometimes walk down there to play and look at the names and dates on the tombstones. Some dated back to the 1700s. Lots of familiar family names were there. We would marvel at the tiny markings of babies who lived, 2 or 3 days, 2 or 3 years... It was another world. It must have been since we knew nobody died until they were really, really old anymore.

On Halloween, all the cousins would gather at Grandma and Grandpa's to make the spooky, “dark-dark” walk to the cemetery. In a shivering cluster of nervous energy and downright panic, we would make our way to the graveyard. Grandma would stay back at the house to have our pie and ice cream ready for when we got back. Every year, EVERY YEAR, we would enter the gates of the cemetery pretending to be brave and knowing that we were not. Through some kind of Grandma magic or evil witchcraft, every year, EVERY YEAR, Grandma Barden would manage to beat us down there and scare the life out of us. A foot step cracking a stick that startled you. A low moan that made your heart stop. And finally, a screeching howl that froze your entire body in place.... except your bladder. Because you always peed your pants.

The road ahead

My head is spinning with what's coming in the next 3 days....

Share my anxiety, won't you?

7:30AM - 3:15AM Daycare
3:15PM - 3:30PM Hello, in-laws. Good bye kiddos.
3:30PM - 11PM The long road home, NY
11:30PM - 5AM Sleep. Hopefully.
5AM - 5:30AM Eat. (Pray. Love.) Dress.
5:30AM - 8:30AM Run 20-ish miles
8:30AM - 9:30AM Eat. (Pray.Love.) Shower. Dress.
9:30AM - 1PM Hurry. Clean. Wait. Help. Cook. Clean. Buy milk. Stress. Dress up.
1PM - 3:45 Calling hours. (Talk. Hug. Cry. Laugh.)
4PM - 5PM Memorial Service. (Sing. Listen. Pray. Talk... eulogy on my head!)
5PM - ??PM PollyFest. (Talk. Hug. Cry. Laugh. Collect Polly Stories.)


SUNDAY - Wedding... Blessed happy event... with an open bar!!
MONDAY - Funeral. Long road home, NH.