idontbelieveingrammar

A friend graciously let us stay at their place in the mountains for Spring Break. My husband loves the mountains and has the facial hair and 4 wheel drive to prove it.  I love adventure.  And I like the mountains, but to be honest would pick the fruity drink in my hand and sand in between my toes. My husband is much happier when he gets to breathe in that low oxygen mountain air at least once a year.  So we headed north. The home we stayed at was literally up the mountain. Several winding, icy, muddy unpaved roads up. Not everyone’s vehicle could make it to the house. Since our car had 4 wheel drive I was often the shuttle, from their cars parked near the highway to the few miles up. Straight up.  I hardly minded, because every time I turned a corner (which was every few seconds) there was a view more majestic than the next.   I mean how could you not be impressed. The snow. The aspens. The mountains. Maybe it was the thin mountain air, but day after ...

I posted this a few year's ago on Father's Day, but today my father turns 70 and I figured it was an appropriate repost.  My father taught me many things. Some on purpose. Some on accident. How to tie a tie. How to tie a cleat hitch. How to put away a dozen raw oysters. And that you should only eat them in months that have r in them. That black dress socks pulled up to the knee with white slip on Keds is not a good look for anyone. Bellies and bald heads sun burn first. That change adds up. That nothing is free. That life is anything but fair. That Bs aren’t good enough. How to order a beer in at least a half dozen languages. The way to Eldorado. (gaily bedight this gallant knight in sunshine and in shadow.) How to pour a drink. How to throw a cowpatty. (yes, you read that correctly). How to drive a boat. How to properly taste wine, although it involves something called clucking, and I think looks ridiculous. And should never be tried with whiskey. To tip well. To never ...

A few weekends ago all four of us got bundled up, laced up our sneaks and headed to a local 5K. All of us run, well almost all of us. One of us doesn’t like to sweat. Or exert effort. Or clean her room. But the last time we left her behind she cried and said she wanted to run too, only because she hates nothing more than being left out. Race day she was nervous and took a some convincing. She started out strong and started to fade only about two minutes in. I let her take quick breaks then told her to keep running. I passed a few people we knew and felt sorry for her dramatic panting and whining and offered to let her walk with them.  I quickly declined before she grabbed on to their legs and refused to let go.  She was going to run this race wether she wanted to or not. We finished the first mile with lots of sprinting, then walking, attempts at giving up and even a short stretch with me running while she was on my back. I know that lots of people think that running is...

I love communion.  Everything about faith is hard for me. But communion is easy. There is something to hold, smell, do and taste. I love the physicality of it. Any way you do it. Plastic thimbles of grape juice. Tasteless wafers. Hunks of Hawaiian bread. Goblets of wine. An open table.  Knees pressed into the cushions at the altar. Someone saying the words just to me. On Saturday I waited in line at the front of the chapel. I ripped off a chunk of bread and someone told me,   “This is my body broken for you." They had probably said it a hundred times before it was my turn, but they said it just for me anyways. I stepped to the side and dipped my bread into the juice. “This is my blood poured out for you.” Like a lot of things in my life, I can overdo anything.  Apparently even communion. I was a little overzealous with the grape juice.  As I pulled out my bread and aimed it for my mouth the juice dripped down.  I tried to ...

My husband picked out our first apartment. It was fine, as far as apartments go. Tiny. Thin walled. Terrible parking. It was on the first floor, the complex had a hot tub and we had our own tiny washer and dryer that held like 2 pair of jeans and a t-shirt. So we saved our money, played less ultimate frisbee and drove around looking at houses. We bought a puppy who peed all over our carpet and completely lost us our cleaning deposit. We were young, newly married and could fit everything we owned in the back two pick up trucks. The bank offered us a loan with nothing down.   We signed our name no less than four hundred times and a 30 year mortgage felt like a lifetime. Turns out lifetimes happen faster than you think. I remember watching Trading Spaces getting my best decorating ideas from Frank, Vern and Genevieve. I spent my paychecks at Hobby Lobby instead of on childcare. Thank God there was no such thing as Pinterest.  We painted all the walls any co...

The Sunday after New Year’s I sat in church and sang an old hymn.  I was having trouble paying attention that day. I was singing without much thought to the words. I wondered where we would eat lunch. I hoped my kids would stop squirming. I was tired. I was there, but I wasn’t there. And suddenly the lyrics caught me. “All is well with my soul” I noticed the word soul, but m ostly I noticed what it didn’t say. It didn’t say all is well with my health.  (or bank account, or relationships, or job or kids clean house). We kept singing it and I kept having to admit that I want a few more promises. I was ready to have myself a pity party that morning because a health issue had come back. I have a nerve condition that causes chronic pain in my face. Since I was having symptoms again I had done some research online, which we all know is a terrible idea. Let’s just say that the internet was not encouraging. At the time, it wasn’t bothering me too badly…but knowi...

If you happen to stop beside me at a red light you might just get lucky to catch a free show. I sing along in the car.  In the shower. In class. Elevators. And occasionally even in the store when they are playing a good song. Sometimes I even dance. This is the part where I should tell you that I do NONE of these things well. I sing off key. I come in early. I sometimes make up words when I do not know them. My dancing could easily be mistaken for a seizure. But in the car and   the shower and pretty much everywhere else you catch me singing along to the radio…. I think I sound decent. Not great. But ok. That is usually because my car speakers are turned up so loud that no one can hear themselves think. Some of my friends have been trying to get us to karaoke for months now.  It sounded fun and terrible to me all at the same time.  Every one of my past karaoke experiences were in a packed bar with lots of drunk people who make for...