13.1

I don't remember what first made me want to try it. Maybe it was because a couple of my friends had done it and I figured if they could, why couldn't I? Or it might have been because I'd overindulged during the holidays and figured if I had a solid date with a real goal I would force myself to get back into shape.

So about three months ago as I was sitting at the boys' swim lessons, flipping through some sporting magazine, I came across the ad: 'The Colorado Marathon and Half-Marathon, Colorado's fastest and America's Most Scenic Course,' it proudly proclaimed. I signed up that day, envisioning myself crossing the finish line in a few months as a very different being than the pale, soft, wintertime person I'd become.

But training for the race didn't go the way I'd hoped. I don't do treadmills and I don't run in snow, so it was hit or miss getting myself out on the trails during the inclement Colorado springtime months. Just when I'd make some progress, a storm came along and kept me indoors for a week or two. Then, for the first time in years, I was hit with a stomach virus and knocked off my feet for a few days.

I started to think about ditching the whole race and trying a different one later on in the year. I didn't think I was ready yet. The farthest I'd been able to run was just over eight miles and to me it seemed like a stretch to jump up to thirteen in a couple of weeks. Surely it would backfire on me and I'd have to ride the lag wagon to the end. So embarrassing.

I also freaked myself out by clocking my distance everywhere I went in my car to see how far thirteen miles really was. Like to drive to our nearest Sam's, which feels very far, was only eleven miles. Holy COW, I thought. I can't run that far! What kind of crazy person would try such a thing??

As the race loomed closer, I'd pretty much decided against it. But then things changed. The weather warmed up and I got in a few really good runs. I pictured how I'd feel on the morning of May 3rd if I decided to stay home. If I woke up and looked at the clock knowing that at that moment I should've been running along a river in Ft. Collins instead of sleeping in, I would have loathed myself.

So at the last minute, I booked my hotel room and started getting my head ready for thirteen miles. It gave me butterflies and terror at the same time. But it was something I had to do.

On Saturday I packed my stuff and headed North. After stopping to have a delicious lunch with my sister on the way, I arrived in Ft. Collins. I'd never been there before but always heard about it. It's ranked the number one city in America to raise a family. It was very charming and not in a contrived way. The University campus was gorgeous and the rows of eclectic shops downtown brought back memories of my own college town, San Marcos. I started feeling a little sentimental on top of the butterflies and terror.

I headed to the Hilton to pick up my race packet. It was swarming with people and excitement. After getting my race t-shirt, bib and timing chip, I wandered around to check out the "expo" where they try to sell you fancy shoes and things. One of the displays they had was a map you could stick a pin in to mark where you were from. It was interesting to see that people had come from all over the US and several other countries to be in the race. Very cool.

It was starting to get a little drizzly and gray when I left the expo and I drove around town to get my bearings. I stopped at the grocery store to stock up on bananas, Gatorade and energy bars and then made my way to the hotel to get settled in.

I'd never stayed in a hotel by myself before and was pretty excited about it. But before long I realized why some people decide to end their lives in hotels. Being in a hotel by yourself is like the loneliest thing in the world. Before long I was back in my car looking for the nearest Schlotzsky's.

After my sandwich was ordered, I sat at the counter and waited. By then it was really raining. As I gazed out the lonely window at the dark clouds overhead, a college student came in and sat down beside me. I couldn't believe it when he tried to strike up a conversation and seemed to actually be flirting. I was thinking that I could literally be his mother and that made me feel even more blue. I couldn't believe it had been so long since I'd been a college student myself. Thank goodness I only had a couple hours until bedtime or I would have worked myself into a serious pre-race funk.

I headed back to the hotel and sorted out my things for the next day. After setting the alarm for 4:00am and watching a few depressing sitcoms, I turned out the lights thinking, "This is it. When I wake up it will be time..." Yikes. It was only 7:30 but I managed to fall asleep right away. Benadryl helps.

Of course I spent the night having recurring nightmares that I'd overslept and missed the race. The good news was that in the dreams I was actually disappointed, not relieved, that I'd missed it. That made me feel that at least on some level I might be more ready that I thought. I tossed and turned all night and finally got up at 3:30 for good. No need for the alarm after all.

I ate my breakfast of bananas, cereal and boiled eggs and tried not to worry that it was still raining outside. I do better in cool weather anyway but who wanted to run in the rain for that long? I'd never drank so much OJ and Gatorade in my life. By the time I left the hotel and headed to the parking area I was feeling very hydrated. Very, very hydrated.

It wasn't hard to find a parking space in the garage and I'd gotten there early so I sat in my car a while watching the other runners arrive, sizing them up. You could tell the serious runners right away and then there were the people like me, who looked like they were just hoping not to embarrass themselves so they might be able to go home and post on their facebook status that they'd run a half-marathon that day.

Before long it was time to get on the bus and head toward the starting line. It was still dark but the rain had stopped and I could see a faint glow on the horizon. The buses filled up quickly and slowly pulled away and headed out of town. It seemed like such a strange thing for over 1500 people to be riding buses to the middle of nowhere at 5am so they could voluntarily run thirteen miles back to town. And then there were the marathoners who had already left for their starting line an hour earlier. Crazy.

The ride seemed exceptionally long since the whole time I was thinking how I'd be running the whole way back. Most people were pretty quiet and contemplative but a few were chatting away with their seatmates about their previous races and conquests.

When we arrived at the staging location the sun was halfway up and the clouds were clearing out. It was starting to look like a very good day. We were dropped off in a field filled with what looked like hundreds of port-o-potties and a large tent. Once I got my eyes past the potties I realized we were in a beautiful canyon with the Poudre river running just a few yards away. It was gorgeous.

But it didn't take long to realize it was also freezing. It was in the thirties still so everyone headed to the tent to huddle and wait for an hour or so until the race started. Before long I met a group of women who were very friendly and fun to talk to. Once again I was honored to be in such a diverse group of amazing people. I don't know why but it seems like most people I meet at races are exceptional.

The time flew and pretty soon I was in line for one last restroom stop. The butterflies came back but it was a thrilling feeling. Runners started heading down the road to the starting line as one big herd of people. I positioned myself toward the back of the herd since I knew I'd be running slow and steady.

Finally, it was time. Slowly, the first half of the pack pulled out and the rest of us started jogging up to the starting line. Hoots and hollers went out from the runners and the police escorts cleared the road ahead. Not that there was much traffic out there yet. I turned on my tunes to what I'd decided on as the perfect starting song: Halo, by Beyonce. It had an anthem-like beginning and seemed fitting. This was it. No turning back now!

The crowd of runners thinned out over the first couple of miles as the fast people made the most of the downhill beginning. It was touted as the fastest course in Colorado with 1200 feet of elevation drop. Most of that happened in the first four miles or so. Funny how fast the miles go by when you have gravity on your side. But even though I felt like tearing up the downhill part, I bided my time and paced myself, afraid I'd burn out too early.

I normally don't drink energy drinks or eat power bars when I run but they really made a difference for me that day. Things were just clipping along when I saw the road sign. 'Fort Collins 10 Miles.' Well that's funny, I thought. Ft. Collins is where I'm going. Ten more miles, huh? Once again I was jarred by the reality of how far I was trying to go. I tried to suppress the slight panic that rose for a moment. One mile at a time. That was my mantra.

It was a scenic route and that helped the time go by. We ran past picturesque farms with horses stomping around, dogs barking and the smell of the country. Some good smells, some not so good smells. Volunteers handed out sports drinks every two miles and there were more potties at each station. It was a very organized race.

But the funnest part was when we ran by the crowds that had gathered at various points to cheer us on and support their friends and family. People had cowbells and children gave high-fives. I still remember one woman who was standing quietly on the side of the road. When I passed her she made eye contact and quietly said, "Good job." That was at about mile four and just hearing those two words got me through the next couple of miles easily. I don't know what it is about encouragement from strangers, but it is powerful. At least for me.

At mile six there was finally an uphill stretch. I'd been training on hills more than on distance for the last few months and I felt a surge of pride as I topped the hill without even slowing my pace. There were more volunteers up there to hand out drinks and they were dressed as clowns. Very random. I couldn't say enough good things about the volunteers all along the route that day. They were fun and enthusiastic and really made my day.

When mile eight came and went I realized I was in uncharted territory. The good news was I was feeling just great. It's true how race day adrenaline and excitement can really get you through. I started to think crazy thoughts like, "I think I'm actually going to do this!" followed by the other voice in my head, "Shut up. You still have four miles to go. Wait, make that five. Eight plus four is twelve. And you are going thirteen. That leaves five so calm down, sister..."

I couldn't believe I wasn't in pain. I couldn't believe it almost seemed easy. But I tried to stuff those over-confident thoughts down deep so I wouldn't mess up my head. Soon we were closer to town and it was a very level course. We ran through a park and over a bridge. By then some of the elite marathoners had caught up with us and were passing us. Keep in mind that they only started an hour before we did. I was in awe as they breezed past me, their sinewy legs in an almost full sprint. Amazing what the human body is capable of.

Mile nine, mile ten, mile eleven. I started feeling it. My feet had pretty much gone numb a few miles back except for the blister that was rising. So what, I told myself. It's not like I have a bone sticking out. It's just a blister for heaven's sake. Some people had already started walking around mile seven so I was feeling pretty good about keeping up my pace. I also felt like if I stopped running I'd never be able to start again.

As we got closer to the end, emotions started welling up in me. I couldn't believe I was going to do it. Thirteen miles. Make that thirteen point one miles. I thought back to just two years earlier when I first started running and could barely make it down the street. I remembered how I used to loathe running and be annoyed by people who loved it. I picked up my pace.

One of the most inspiring sights I saw during the last part of the race was a man who had to be at least seventy-five or older, trudging along. His head of white hair was tucked and his eyes seemed to be almost closed. I could see it was taking everything he had but he was not going to stop.

After passing the twelve mile mark I grabbed one last cup of water, gulped it down and tossed it in the trash. The last mile. No freaking way. I started scrolling through my music to find the right song for the finish. Steve Perry's voice rang out singing, "Don't stop believing..hold on to that feeeeeeeelin'!" Cheesy, but perfect.

That last mile was a long one. Finally, I came around a corner and saw it. A big sign hanging over the cheering crowds: FINISH. Is that really it? Could it be?? I wanted to savor every last step. I turned down Steve so I could hear the people. I ran across the last timing mat and suddenly, it was over. Someone handed me a medal and said congratulations and I stumbled out into the crowd.

That was it. I had done it. How could it be? And what now?

I sat down for a minute and gathered my thoughts. People were milling around eating bananas and cookies and eyeballing each other. The marathoners strutted around with their fancy 'Marathon' medals, looking down their noses at us half-marathoners. Okay, maybe they didn't but it sure seemed like it.

That critical voice in my head wasted no time in trying to belittle my achievement. "Well it was partly downhill," she said. "And it did take you two hours and thirty-two minutes." But I put a stop to that right away. "Listen, bitch. I just ran thirteen point one miles without stopping. So shut it."

On my way back to my car I saw so many happy faces. People were on their phones calling their peeps and one guy was even sitting on the curb, crying. I think they were happy tears.

I called my family and made my way home, feeling amazing. It wasn't until later that night as I was wiping down the stovetop when it really hit me. I had actually done it. Then I finally shed a few tears of my own.

ai haiku for kris allen

newlywed hottie
jealous wife at home, waiting
best not forget her

a parable of sorts

Recently, a commercial with a hound dog came on that brought back a colorful memory for me. A memory I'm not necessarily proud of but one I think is relevant. Feel free to use me as an example for your children when you tell them stories as you tuck them in at night. I'm a bad example, but an example nonetheless.

Way back in the 1900's (as Cole would say), I had a job at a shoe store while I was in college. I took my job seriously. Seriously enough to be mocked by my co-workers for being the "work-horse," as was the case in most jobs I had. This tidbit is recalled only to give myself some credibility after I divulge the rest of the story.

One quiet afternoon, I was alone in the shoe store with the assistant manager of the store, Ryan. We were bored and he decided to take his break, leaving me in charge of the shop for the first time ever. Being the nerd that I was, I took my responsibilities very seriously and planned to run things smoothly while he was gone.

Shortly after he departed for the food court, a lady came in and started browsing around. She took her time. She was a serious shopper and by the time she finished, had stacked about six pairs of shoes on the counter. As she finally approached to check-out, a funny thing happened. The power went out.

There was no weather disturbance or any other obvious explanation and I was totally freaked out. How would I fulfill my duty of providing her with an exceptional check-out experience?

The woman could obviously see that the lights and register had gone down, yet she seemed unconcerned. I calmly explained that my register was not working so if she checked-out I couldn't give her a receipt and she could only pay with cash or a check. She seemed unfazed by this information and produced exact change.

I remember thinking how the whole thing seemed surreal because most shoe customers were very serious about getting a receipt and knowing about our return policy, especially people who bought multiple pairs of shoes. But not this lady. She took her bags and left. I think I heard a bolt of lightning as the door closed behind her. I can't be sure. But in retrospect I'm pretty sure she was the devil.

Shortly after, my co-worker returned. I was still flustered and explained that the power was out but I'd helped a customer who'd bought several pairs of shoes and paid with cash. As soon as my words registered, he got a twinkle in his eye.

You know, he said. There is no record of that sale.

I didn't get it.

What I'm saying is, we have this cash and no one knows that any shoes were bought.

I still didn't get it.

Then slowly, I got it.

!

And I didn't object.

I believe the total was about $120. He split it evenly.

It didn't take long for things to get weird.

On my way home from work I stopped at the grocery store to stock up on mac and cheese and I kid you not, when the cashier gave me back my change, it was $6.66. I took it as a sign but pushed it way deep down into my subconsciousness.

Life went on for a few days and I repressed the guilt of stealing outright for the first time in my life. But then came the dog.

While driving down a back country road in my Mazda, something I liked to do to get away from it all, I noticed a basset hound walking down the side of the road. I was in the middle of nowhere and wondered why he was, too, so I pulled over. He had to be thirsty, so I pulled up beside him and opened the door. He hopped right into my passenger seat as if he'd been waiting for me.

Figuring he had to live somewhere nearby, I drove him around for awhile hoping he'd see something familiar and react and I could return him to his home. But he didn't. He seemed to be enjoying the ride and had no interest in getting out.

I'd never had a dog before but I could tell there was something wrong with his big, satiny ear. I decided I'd better take him into a vet. Turned out he has some problem hound dogs get that requires draining fluid from their ear. Guess what. The amount I owed the vet for his services was exactly the amount I had stolen from the shoe store. I think 'Someone' was trying to send me a message.

After paying up, I took my new dog home and put him in a dog pen in my back yard. He seemed content to be there. It was an act. Later in the afternoon as I was chatting on the phone, I glanced outside to see a four-foot-long dog balanced on a chain link fence. It was an interesting sight, seeing him teeter-totter until he finally teetered over and out of his pen.

I ran out to catch him but he was long gone. A few days later I saw a basset hound in the back of a pick-up truck heading toward Taylor, Texas. I'm pretty sure it was my basset hound. But no matter. He'd completed his mission and was on his way to who knows where, to teach someone else that there is a price to pay for breaking the rules.

When the life of a shoe salesgirl is interrupted by a devil woman and a hound dog it can make you wonder. How important must we be for the Creator of the universe to take the trouble to personally remind us of a basic lesson like: Thou shalt not steal? Some may call it coincidence, but I'd call them naive.

2009 ai haikus

Although I haven't been exactly dazzled by most of the contestants this year I feel compelled to continue the tradition of the 'ai haiku.' I present to you the first haikus of the season!



america votes
twice they've screwed up since the Fall
we all pay the price



nathaniel marshall
drama queen extraordinaire
lose the headband, dude (?)

cars (an homage)

Growing up, my Dad had three specific goals he wanted my sister, brother and me to accomplish before we got married someday:

1. Go to college.
2. Live by ourselves.
3. Learn to drive a stick shift.

I was personally able to partially fulfill most of his requirements. I went to school, but didn't quite seal the deal. I lived alone, if only for a few months (loved it). And I did learn to drive a standard.

My first car was a 1963, pea-green, VW Beatle. It had been passed down through the family when it finally became mine on my 16th birthday. Sadly, I didn't understand how cool it was until years after it was gone. But I did appreciate the fact that it could float and that it was cheap to fill up. I think I spent about $10 a tank back then. The good ol' days.

The thing I didn't appreciate about that car was that it seemed to be a little mischievous. It would only have problems when my Dad wasn't around, so he had a hard time believing us when things went wrong. The first time I drove it to school after getting my license, one of the rear tires fell off. I'd been driving along, ignoring the subtle and then violent shudders, hoping it was really just nothing. Then the car tilted sideways and I could see the tire rolling away from me in my rear view mirror. Not a good thing to see in your rear view mirror, by the way. I had no choice but to pull over, run after the tire in my long, straight skirt, and heave it into the backseat. I was worried about being late to school at that point and I figured I couldn't just walk, when an old man in a pick-up truck pulled over. I gratefully accepted a ride. It was only a few more blocks after all.

When I got to school I scrounged up a quarter and called home from a pay phone. My Mom picked up and I relayed the story to her, trying not to laugh. She relayed the information to my Dad who I could hear in the background saying, "What? The wheel? Which wheel? The steering wheel? The such-n-such wheel?" No! The actual wheel wheel! Finally he believed me and came to fix the problem, having to pick up several lug nuts, dropped along the road for a mile or so. We never did figure out how that happened. As far as I know, no one wanted to kill me when I was 16. Who knows.

The next thrilling incident happened as I was driving home late from a friend's house. I was on a dark and windy road when suddenly, the headlights went completely out. Shit! There were curbs on either side so I couldn't pull over without doing some damage to the car and besides, I had no way to call for help. I didn't want to be stranded on a dark road in the middle of no where. Life was so hard before cell phones. After a couple seconds, my eyes adjusted and I realized I could kind of see the road by the light of the moon. I continued up the windy hill as people passed me, flashing their lights frantically to let me know my lights were out. I finally reached a well-lit gas station and called home. Once again, my story sounded unlikely. Why the hell would the headlights go out? My Dad drove over to meet me and guess what? Of course the headlights came right back on.

There were also a couple of romantic incidents in that car, like when someone actually called the cops on me for making out with my boyfriend in the front seat while we were parked in a vacant lot. It was Valentine's day and I guess they were just jealous. There was also the time when I went to visit my boyfriend, who I was forbidden to see, and when it came time to leave my car wouldn't start. I don't think anyone has learned how to jump-start the engine of a car as quickly as my boyfriend did that day. Like I said, the car was mischievous and apparently had a conscience. I was not too sad to pass it onto my little brother years later.

I still remember the day my Mom bought me my second car, a 1985 Mazda RX-7. We had looked at it the day before and she said she'd buy it for me as a college car. Thanks, Mom! I was working at a drive-through burger joint when she pulled into the parking lot in the white hatch-back. I couldn't believe it was mine! My co-workers oohed and ahhhed and made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

It did turn out to be a perfect college car. It was reliable, sporty and fun. It only had seating for two but often had a couple extra riders in the back, my box turtles. Whenever I made my trek from San Marcos to just about everywhere in central and East Texas, my turtles would ride along. The only problem was that sometimes it'd get too hot for them back there in the direct sunlight. Once, I actually had to pull over and let them out to cool off. It was August in Texas and my A/C wasn't working. The perfect recipe for pure hell, if you ask me. I was pouring sweat and could tell they were not faring well, either. After a break from the road they were fine and we went on our way.

I felt like that car was faithful to me and hung in there exactly as long as I needed it to. When I finally got my first real full-time job and was newly married, it started having major problems. We hurriedly made a deal on a new car, a 1998 Mazda Protege, and my husband went to get the RX-7 for the trade-in. It barely made it to the dealership, limping along on it's last legs. (See, even the thought of it makes me want to cry now.) Once they got it into the bay area to check it over, almost every guy at the dealership rushed over to look at it. I found out they sold it to one of their mechanics before we had even left in our new car. I'm glad it was appreciated by some one else, too. It was a classic.

But the road to being a new car owner was not as easy as we'd hoped. Little did I know, the dealer had not actually found financing for us when I drove it home that first night. I had no credit history and barely a job history so I think the finance guy took a gamble on me. My husband, who had sold cars before, understood that just because they let you drive it home doesn't mean you get to keep it. I woke up in the middle of the night to see him broken out in hives. Yes, hives. Of course, he didn't admit until years later that it was caused by his overwhelming fear that we were going to be car-less. Thankfully, he fear was not realized and we had that little silver car for a couple years.

In the Fall of 2001, we had a one year-old and a baby one the way. It was time for something a little bigger so we drove to Kerrville to see what we could find. We came home with a used 1998 Ford Explorer. It had all the fancy things our Protege didn't, like leather seats, a CD changer and power everything. We were so proud! It also turned out to be a very reliable car and I kid you not, no one believes us about this, but it had the same set of tires for over seven years and almost 100K miles. Only one got a flat from driving over a nail and had to be replaced. It was almost supernatural.

That Explorer saw us through so many miles and adventures. We added two new babies to the family and drove them home in that car. It safely carried my husband to and from work on a sixty mile-a-day commute for four years. It was shipped up to Colorado when we were transferred and was here waiting for us when we walked out of the airport as the newest Coloradans, unsure of what to expect. It took us to the mountains for our first explorations was with me as I learned my way around our new neighborhood.

And even though it wasn't even four-wheel drive, it stood up to the ice and snow, only letting me down once. But it was really my fault. I'd loaded up the boys just to get us out of the house after being snowbound for way too many days. I was so desperate to get out that I didn't even have them put their shoes on so when we got stuck at the bottom of our cul-de-sac, I had to carry each of them up to the house, one by one.

But as all cars do, "Explodery" (yes, we name our cars) just got worn out. The problems started to add up to more than we wanted to fix, especially for an 11 year-old car. Then on Monday morning I heard a report on the news about how it was a great time to buy a car. Hmmmm. I called my husband and said I was actually considering something new. He was glad since we were both concerned with how unsafe the Explorer was becoming. That same morning, I loaded the boys up to head to school, turned the key, and...it wouldn't start. The boys were just getting excited thinking they were going to miss school when I finally got it going. It seemed like a sign to me.

That day, I did a little online research which wasn't too hard since I'd already narrowed it down to two things: A Mini-Cooper and a Subaru Forester. Of course, in my heart I knew I could not have a Mini Cooper at this stage in my life. It really didn't make sense to buy a car that seats four when I have a family of five.

That night, we headed to some dealerships "just to look." Ha. When we got to the Subaru place I saw it and instantly knew, that was the One. We parked and went in. They had a surprisingly laid-back approach to selling cars which was totally my style. If I get pressured at all, I usually bolt. A couple hours later, I was a new car owner. I only test drove that one car. I guess that's just how we do things in my family.

The hard part came when I had to clear all the crap out of Explodery to get it ready to trade in. As I emptied the maps and CD's and started to excavate the cheerios and Cheetos out from under the seat, I got sentimental. That car had seen and heard it all. I could almost feel the human energy of my family embedded in those seats, doors and walls. We had laughed, cried and even screamed in that car. There were even times when we threw things out of the windows of that car. Like, for instance, a toy that two children were fighting over. Right now I can still see it laying there on the side of that Texas hill country highway, faded and cracked from the sun... ah, but that's a whole 'nother story.

As I parked it for the final time I actually teared up as I said goodbye. 'Thank you for being such a reliable, safe little Explorer for so long. I hope you go on to have more adventures with someone else's family. Please forgive me for ditching you the second you choked for the first time ever.' Then I walked away. I think I heard it whisper my name, or maybe it was a profanity as I left it there.

There've been plenty of other car adventures that I didn't share here because they didn't happen in my cars. Adventures involving the tailgate of a pick-up truck, adventures in the bed of a pick-up truck, even adventures inside a pick-up truck. I'll leave those up to your imagination (Just so you know, my husband has always driven pick-up trucks). But as I drove away in my new car (Motor Trend's SUV of the year, BTW), I felt like I was driving away in a clean slate just waiting to be painted on with the colors of my life. The life of a woman in her mid-thirties who happens to have three sons and a penchant for whiskey.

I opened my new moon-roof, cranked the music up on the new sound system, and listened to my boys singing along in the backseat as we flew down the road together.

so this is it?

It seems that for the last ten years we've been trying to get somewhere. We've been in constant motion: Changing jobs, changing houses, even changing states. Having babies, raising babies, trying to survive the babies and always trying improve our situation.

On New Year's Day it all seemed to stop for me. Instead of being excited about what may come, I felt like I'd hit a wall. Like I was just about to live another rerun of last year. No longer were we trying to get somewhere, we had finally arrived at the place we'd wanted to be for so long. The place we'd worked so hard to get to.

This is it. We've reached the point of inertia. We have all the children we'll ever have, we're in the home that we'll most likely be in until the boys are raised and maybe even after that, and my husband has the job he's worked years to get and will probably retire from in 30 years or so (and that's if all goes well). This is it.

From here on out, each day will be very similar, and that's if we're lucky. Work, school, laundry, dishes, homework, bathtime and bedtime. Hanging out with friends now and then, a few good shows to watch on TV, a vacation here and there and before we know it, BAM. We're dead. And what was the point?

I know I sound ungrateful but I'm not. I'm more than thankful for my husband and healthy, beautiful children. I'm thankful for my own health. I'm thankful for our home and my husband's job. Believe me, I don't take these things for granted. I actually love my life, I'm exactly where I always wanted to be. But now that I'm here I just think there has to be more.

This just can't be it.

should i be scared?

This is a hand-drawn picture of the guy Cooper claims to see lurking around our backyard these days. Note the pink reptillian eyes, the tiny black wings, the bony legs. Totally creepy.

But the strange thing is, it doesn't freak him out. He completely believes this guy exists but when he "sees" him he just comes in and says, "I saw that guy in the backyard again. You know, the black guy with pink eyes." Like it's no big deal. When he first described him to me I asked why he wasn't screaming when he saw something so scary. He just shrugged and walked away.

I guess that's what it's like to be four. You see things peer around trees while you're on your swingset and they are just another part of the big, strange world you live in. And when you believe your big, strong Dad can protect you from anything, I guess a skinny, pink-eyed creature in your backyard wouldn't seem so bad anyway.

debate schebate

Leave it to Tom Brokaw to make last night's town hall debate a repeat of the last debate...tedious and boring. What ever happened to old-fashioned town halls where people got to ask whatever they want and anything goes? It's all so controlled and rehearsed these days it makes me want to gag. Seriously, I heard that over six million people emailed in questions and Brokaw still managed to pick fifteen that were no different than what's already been asked a million times. What an asshole. Just goes to show how the press thinks they know better than the people.

Where were the questions about abortion? The border? Being friends with terrorists? Gun control? School vouchers?

Personally, I could think of a hundred questions I'd like to ask the candidates. Mostly of Obama since he's the one with the shortest record, least experience and who has been given a free pass by the American press for the last two years. Here's a list of things I wish I could have asked.

1. When you say you didn't know your pastor of 20 years was an America-hating racist, and you had no idea Bill Ayers was a domestic terrorist after working with and for the man, even writing a forward for his book, does that make you:

a) Stupid
b) Naive
c) A Liar
d) All of the above
(See, I'd even give them multiple choices, just to be fair)

2. Did you say that American troops air-raided villages and killed innocent civilians out of:

a) Ignorance
b) Disrespect
c) Pandering to the Move-On assholes who have gotten you this far
d) A deep loathing of our military
e) All of the above

3. Why is there no record of your time at Harvard and Columbia and why won't you release your senior thesis about nuclear proliferation? What the hell are you hiding?

4. Why did you vote four times against a law that would protect babies born after botched abortions, giving them medical attention? Is it that important to you to keep your perfect score with the pro-abortion left? Have you no soul?

5. How does it feel to have the American press eating out of your hand and under your thumb for so long?

6. How does it feel to know that the only reason you are where you are is because of white liberal guilt?

7. Do you seriously think you would get to serve a second term after you finish running our country into the ground with your trillions in new spending and increase in taxes?

8. Do you really think people believe that a Democratic President, along with a Democratically run Congress won't raise taxes and impose more government control?

9. Does it surprise you that people are stupid enough to think you can have nationalized health care in a country of over 300 million people and it will run like a well-oiled machine? HA!

10. Can you believe you've tricked everyone into thinking you're a mainstream guy when you are the most liberal, radical even, person to ever run for the Presidency? Seriously, doesn't it make you laugh when you're alone?

and finally,

11. Just how stupid do you think the American people are?

I guess we'll find that out on Nov. 4th.

second chance

All summer I'd been meaning to sign up for a race but with our move and the boys starting school in July, the time just slipped by. Finally, last weekend I was able to give it another try.

It was the exact race I ran last Fall, complete with the hills and noon start time. But this time I felt much more prepared. I'd been training on the steep trails that wind through our neighborhood and even been able to work my distance up to eight miles, so a 5K seemed a lot less intimidating. I'd also bought myself a white hat to reflect the hot sun from my head.

As I checked in and pinned the bib on my shirt and timing chip on my shoe, I felt so excited to be there. Races are just so much fun. The loud music playing, the runners getting warmed up, it's like a party really. And I'm always so impressed with the other runners. I saw people in their seventies and even eighties who were in much better shape than I am. They were tan, sinewy and strong. I was also impressed with the young moms who ran the race pushing their babies along in strollers with them. That is hard!

The moment we'd been anticipating finally came and the race was on. This time I had positioned myself toward the back of the crowd because I hate to be in the way and I hate to get passed. I also didn't try to start out at a sprint like I did last time, instead settling into a comfortable pace as we headed down the first hill.

At first, people were passing me. A lot of them, children and moms with strollers included. But I knew the course and didn't worry. I was saving myself for the three hills that I knew were going to take these passers down a few notches. We headed up the first long, slow hill and suddenly I started passing people. Last year, that had been the hill I'd started to lose my energy on but this time I felt strong and solid.

After circling a park and grabbing some water, I headed back down-hill and had some time to recover before I came to the next big hill, the one where I had given up and started walking the previous time. It was hot again, but my hat was definitely helping. I took the turn and started my way up. I could feel my legs fighting it but in my mind I was thinking: 'I am not stopping! I am not going to stop!' And I knew that this time I wouldn't stop. It was also at this critical point when my favorite running song came on my iPod. What timing! There was Coldplay singing just for me:

Lovers, keep on the road you’re on
Runners, until the race is run
Soldiers, you’ve got to soldier on
Sometimes even the right is wrong.

I made it half-way up and was not struggling. I was even passing men who looked like hot, sweaty Marines. They were walking that hill, muscles glinting in the sun, but I was soldiering on. It was an awesome feeling.

I reached the top and headed back downhill, and then came to the final hill. 'What kind of people created a course like this?' I thought. Sadists! But I dug deep and headed up, much of my energy coming from knowing I was almost there and I could do it this time. I was not going to walk even if it killed me!

As I reached the top of the hill and the finish line for the 3.2 miles, there was one more challenge. A 100 meter race that started where the 5K ended. Rat bastards! Who thought of such a thing? Seriously? But I took a deep breath and sprinted down the home stretch, crowds cheering on either side of the track. Of course, they weren't cheering specifically for me, but for all the runners, and it felt great.

I finally reached the end and stopped to catch my breath as someone cut the timing chip off off my shoe. I must have looked pretty hot and exhausted because before I knew it, I had ice for my neck and a cold drink in my hand. Race volunteers are just the best. After cooling down for a while I headed back to my car feeling like I had really achieved something.

Yes, it was only a 5K and it's not like I placed in it or anything, but I have come a long way. Just a year and a half ago I could hardly run a half-mile without feeling faintish. I used to even say I hated running. Now, it's something I look forward to. It keeps me sane and helps me manage stress, control my weight and feel energetic. It is meditative and cathartic. And recently I heard of a study that showed people who run live 16 years longer on average than non-runners. Just another reason to keep pounding those hills.

To anyone who has never run down a trail at sunset to see blazing reds and pinks behind purple mountains, then have a fox cross your path as you wipe the sweat from your forehead and watch a flock of black and white Magpies land in a tree by a sparkling blue lake, I highly recommend it. It will lift your spirit higher than you can imagine and inspire you to keep running on.

bringing out the feminist in me

I think I've mentioned before that I'm no feminist. As a woman in America in the year 2008, I have never experienced anything in my life that made me see why some women are so pissed off and whiny about a perceived double standard.

But this week has opened my eyes. Since Sarah Palin was announced as the Republican VP nominee last Friday, I am in shock. She's obviously a new face and people are very curious and want to know more about her. But the attacks I've seen by the mainstream "media" are sickening, dispicable and disgusting. When one of the major networks was breaking the news of her nomination they actually had under the 'Breaking News' banner: How many homes will this add to the McCain ticket. That was considered hard news!!!

I was amazed to hear they have questioned if Sarah Palin can be a good mom and have a career at the same time. Did they ask that about Barack Obama? Hell no! His wife is no stay-at-home mom and no one ever questioned if his young children would be neglected if he becomes President. And this is coming from the side that always says without a doubt that women can have it all: Career and Family. Apparently they don't really believe that. She has been attacked more and asked more questions in the last five days than Barack has been asked in 18 months. They have also attacked her husband, digging up some dirt showing that 22 years ago he was arrested for DWI, never mind that at the same point in time Obama has admitted to doing cocaine. And there's some information out there saying he might have even sold drugs. Can you believe we might have a President who was a drug dealer? How low can we sink?

And it's not just the media, I was browsing on Etsy yesterday, a website I use to sell my homemade pendants. I've always known it was dominated by a lot of hippie liberals but I couldn't believe my eyes when I found an "artist" selling buttons with a photo of Sarah Palin that said "Vote for McCain because I have breasts." WTF? Can you imagine if a right-winger had said something like that about Hillary? This was coming from a person who probably considers herself a feminist! But apparently feminists aren't really about championing rights for all women, just liberal women.

I have no idea how some people can be on the fence at this point in the election year. There's never been such a stark contrast between the two sides before. You either believe that the government should be able to take more of your money to run more of their "programs" and basically be everybody's mommy, or you believe they should deliver the mail, protect the borders and get the hell out of the way. You either believe that life begins at conception or you believe it's okay to deny medical attention to newborn babies who survive botched abortions (something Obama voted for). How can people be undecided???

I'm listening to the news right now and just heard that someone has released Sarah Palin's social security number. What next?


The good news is that this giant hissy fit being thrown by the left just shows how threatened they feel by this woman. I've never seen anything like it in my life. I heard someone say yesterday that 2008 will be considered the year that journalism died. I believe that.

100 things about me

1. I hate stale green lights.
2. I don't drink coffee or tea.
3. My favorite musical instruments are the piano and guitar.
4. I don't wear pink.
5. Wine makes me sleepy.
6. My hair parts down the middle.
7. I don't worry a lot.
8. My favorite places to shop are: Ross, Tuesday Morning, Craigslist, garage sales, flea markets.
9. I live and die by lists.
10. I have an eye for finding good furniture for cheap.
11. I prefer reptiles as pets.
12. My favorite insect is a walking stick, but the praying mantis runs a close second.
13. I'm not really a "dog person" but since I've never had one maybe I just don't know I am.
14. I'm not a cat person either but I do appreciate my cat, Fangun.
15. I hate plastic plant pots. Pottery is the only way to go.
16. I actually hate most plastic things: chairs, pots, toys.
17. I was accepted to Texas A&M and SWT, the only two schools I applied to.
18. I prefer silver over gold.
19. I had a twin.
20. I can ride a unicycle.
21. I think the feminist movement has led to the sissification of an entire generation of men. That's why I let my boys have knives.
22. I prefer the company of men over most women.
23. I am a loyal friend.
24. I am picky about who I'm friends with.
25. My favorite color is green.
26. My favorite bird is the hummingbird.
27. I think the Earth may be warming but it has nothing to do with people.
28. I'm looking for a fight.
29. I can't stand the Rolling Stones.
30. I don't respect people who are afraid to say what they think.
31. I love piano bars and comedy clubs.
32. If I was to be a groupie it would be for Coldplay.
33. I'm named after my Grandmother.
34. I sneeze in threes.
35. The most important attributes I value in a friend are: intelligence, sense of humor, and honesty.
36. I love running.
37. I love my ipod.
38. Some of my favorite iPod tuned right now are: Pocketful of Sunshine and anything by Coldplay.
39. I think the Flight of the Conchords are hilarious.
40. I don't think I'm a perfect Mom but I do a lot of things right.
41. I'm a middle child.
42. I try hard to keep interests other than my children. I don't want to freak out when I have an empty nest someday.
43. I love queso and pizza and could eat either or both for every meal.
44. I'm not into health food.
45. I wear a size 8.5 shoe (8 in a sandal).
46. My chances of breast cancer are considerably high.
47. I don't like people with a victim mentality.
48. I think there may be a raccoon in my garage right now.
49. I love to study maps.
50. I hope to run a marathon someday.
51. I love Texas but I love Colorado more.
52. I like to dance.
53. Overall, I'm happy with my body.
54. The last movie that made me cry was P.S. I Love You.
55. I like tiny things.
56. I have a tiny polymer cake on my bedside table that I bought on Etsy.
57. I think that my life is going to lead to something big someday.
58. I have a tattoo of a sunflower on my hip that I got on my 21st birthday.
59. My car is 10 years old but I don't want to buy a new one until they make something really great that gets 100 mpg.
60. I'm militant about certain things (okay, a lot of things).
61. If I had been a professional instead of a stay-at-home mom I could be in charge of something big by now.
62. It was worth it to stay home.
63. I love condiments and sauces: catsup, soy sauce, ranch, cholula...
64. I prefer original and classic over new and improved.
65. I've had my appendix and wisdom teeth removed.
66. If I could drive any car it would be a Mini-Cooper. Obviously not practical for my life right now :-(
67. I only like to exercise outside. I loathe treadmills.
68. I hate to cook.
69. I like to bake.
70. I love to give people gifts.
71. When I go to sleep I always have to start out on my right side.
72. I'm 5'7" and weight 140.
73. I've sold shoes, china and Aggie rings, hamburgers, been a day care worker and a receptionist. Just to name a few.
74. If I could travel anywhere I'd like to go to Ireland, Israel and Australia.
75. If I could have any super-hero power it would be to fly.
76. I only wear Levi's jeans.
77. Vehicles I have driven: 1963 VW Beatle, 1985 Mazda RX-7, 1998 Mazda Protege, 1998 Ford Explorer
78. I hate milk.
79. I have long fingers.
80. I was a raisin for Halloween one year.
81. I hate pantyhose and haven't owned any in at least 10 years.
82. I almost drowned once.
83. I broke my arm when I was one.
84. I had a pet from named Sherman.
85. I had two turtles named Tuttle and Rosebud.
86. I like weird pet names.
87. I'm very organized.
88. I'm very punctual.
89. My toenails are painted brown.
90. I have few regrets.
91. I like to mow the lawn.
92. I can run seven miles.
93. I'm happily married.
94. I've lived in Tennessee, Kansas, Texas and Colorado.
95. I've never been to California, Florida or New York, but would like to.
96. I hate to talk on the phone.
97. I love the internet.
98. I think most men are sissies compared to mine.
99. I am a political junkie.
100. I think being in my mid-thirties is pretty great.

friends

As I walked down the street with a mint plant in one hand and my son's tiny hand in the other, I felt a little apprehensive. We were on our way over to our new neighbor's house. A neighbor with a son the same age as mine. I'd met her at the bus stop and she seemed very nice, but still, it can be tricky making new friends. You just never know if someone is going to 'get' you. What if she thought I was a dork? What if she was a dork? What if she was one of those moms I can't stand who is way over involved with her kids? I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. There was only one way to find out.


I'll admit it. I'm very picky when it comes to friends. I'm hard on people and expect a lot. And I don't click with just anyone. I'm drawn to women who are smart, down-to-earth, and funny. Funny is a must-have quality. To me, laughing is very, very important.

I've been blessed with many great friends throughout my life, most of them I still keep in touch with. There's J, who I've known since we were babies. She's one of the strongest people I know and inspires me in many ways. She's a marathon runner and one of the most disciplined people I know. She basically makes me feel like a slacker most of the time but I love her for it.

Then there's M, a childhood friend who grew up on the same street as I did. We spent afternoons riding bikes, spying on my little brother, and hanging out at the local cemetery. I could tell her anything and she would not judge. That was the case 25 years ago and is still the case today. The girl gives good, solid advice and is one of the best listeners I know. She's also an awesome mom, no surprise.

I also have fond memories of another childhood friend, L. During our middle school and high school years I practically lived with her for days on end. Her family was so much fun and made the best food. I would hang around until dinner, hoping to get fed, and thankfully they didn't mind sharing. We spent weekends out on their boat, water-skiing all day and then we'd go back to her house, sunburned and exhausted and stay up until four in the morning talking about boys. She still makes me laugh now, even though she's recently become a single mom with an enormous amount of stress to deal with. I hope I do the same for her.

Once I got to college I met a new life-long friend, T. She was wild and carefree and got me to relax a little. Okay, a lot. We lived together for four years without a single fight. I still love to see her when I get to Texas because I know it will be just like old times. Never mind that we both have husbands and kids now, she makes me feel like my old self, back in our college days: Funny, young and hopeful.

During my first years as a Mom I was very isolated and exhausted and I didn't really make any new friends. There were casual, play-date kinds of relationships but nothing meaningful. I went along like that for so long that I didn't even realize what I was missing out on. But when we moved to Colorado, a few new friendships were in store for me.

My first friend in Colorado was S, the wife of my husband's co-worker and good friend. At first I was thinking I would be "forced" to be friends with her since our husbands were intertwined. But after one meal with her at the California Pizza Kitchen, I knew I liked her. She was simple, like me, and ordered a plain pepperoni instead of the other fru-fru food on the menu. Since then I've seen her become new mom to a beautiful boy from China. They are our boys' godparents are we are their son's. I guess when you click with someone, you just click.

Another friendship evolved with a neighbor, J, who was a few years younger that I and up to her eyeballs in babies. When I met her she had one toddler and a baby on the way. But it wasn't long before the third one arrived. I went to see her recently and felt like I had taken a trip back in time to when I was completely swallowed up by the needs of children. With two in school I feel like my life is a piece of cake now. Seeing her flutter around, in constant motion: Feeding, cleaning, putting them down for naps, it was exhausting! It made me appreciate her more and also realize just how hard I worked in the last few years to get my boys to the point they're at now. I think it's a good idea to have friends who are older and younger than yourself. It gives you great perspective!

My friendship with anther neighbor, B, kind of snuck up on me. We lived across the street from each other for two years before we really started talking. It turned out we were a lot alike. We both liked our space, almost to the point where we missed out on getting to know each other. With a husband who travels a lot, she is extremely independent. She inspires me by how much effort she puts into her two sons. She goes way above and beyond and also makes me feel like a slacker (join the club). She's also very funny and interesting to talk to, especially after a few glasses of wine.

The most unlikely friendship started almost a year ago. Through an online website, I heard from my husband's old flame, C. She was the girl he had considered marrying before we ended up together. Even after years of marriage, I had wondered about her and been curious about the "other woman" my husband had loved. How could he possible have loved anyone but me? Turns out she is very smart, funny and interesting to correspond with. She's a stay-at-home mom, too, and loves to write. I look forward to hearing from her because I know she's going to have something insightful or sarcastic to say. We've gotten to know each other strictly through email, exchanging recipes, discussing politics and keeping up with each other's daily lives. It freaks my husband out, of course, but he's learned to live with it. You just never know where you're going to meet a friend.

Sometimes it's someone from the past who you might re-connect with to forge a new friendship out of old roots. I recently heard from an old high school acquaintance who was on the dance team with me. She was pretty much the only girl I liked on the dance team. Turns out she lives in Colorado, too, less than two hours away. We had her and her family over for dinner the other night and it was so much fun. We'd both changed as far as being more outspoken, especially me, since I was painfully shy in high school. But mostly we were the same, even after 17 years. We're going camping together next month and I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other.

**********************************************************

My neighbor answered the door and we went in, our sons running off to play together without even looking back. We made some small talk about owning 80's houses and laughed about our popcorn ceilings. It didn't take long to learn we had a lot in common. She was an artist, too, and they had a house full of various pets. When I handed her the mint plant she gasped and said, "I was just saying I needed a mint plant the other day! I guess I should wish for things more often."

As we sat in her shady backyard watching the boys play in the sand box, I realized I had been blessed yet again to have a new woman, a new friend come into my life. And a friend that lives just down the street!

When I was a Brownie we sang a song that said, "Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other's gold." I don't know about silver and gold, but to me they're all priceless.

so there

Some said it couldn't be done, it shouldn't be done, that is was just plain wrong. They held firmly to old-fashioned beliefs and were not willing to consider that things may have changed.

Then there were those who said,

"Go for it!"

"You won't regret it!"

and,

"You'll love it, I promise!"

Thank goodness I listened to them and followed my heart. And because I was brave and determined, I can now present to you photographic evidence that proves....


IT IS OKAY TO PAINT BRICK!


In fact, if it's really ugly brick, you have a duty to paint it.

Here's our fireplace before:




And after!!!




I rest my case.

bumper sticker

Recently a friend of mine sent me a political bumper sticker that made me smile. I went straight out to my 1998 Ford Explorer and stuck it on:

"NObama '08
Keep the Change."

Awesome.

Before that moment I had never stuck anything on my car. Up until recently I'd never felt strongly enough about anything to want to put one on. But I truly believe we are about to have the election of a lifetime. There is so much at stake that I want my voice to be heard, even if it is on the back of my car.

I keep hearing that the youth vote is going to make the difference in this election and that is scary to me. I saw "man in the street" interview the other day where a college-aged girl actually said, "I'd like to say I'm voting for Obama because of the issues but really it's because he's cool." WHAT? I could hardly breathe. I know that when I was in college I knew nothing about the real world and I never paid any attention to politics. The fact that people are going to vote for Obama because he's cool is frightening.

To me it seems that the people who will vote for him are the typical consumer-minded Americans who are just excited about a new fad. They are the people who never read past the headlines or listen past the sound bites. They are the people with the simplistic notion that if he's President, the war will immediately end and that will be that. There will be no chaos in the Middle East and Iran will be our buddy because Obama is good enough to talk to them. Just ask nicely for them to stop trying to make a nuke and erase Israel from the map. Why didn't we think of that before?

They are people that are unaware that two-thirds of the evil rich people he intends to raise taxes on are small business owners, the people that create jobs. I'm sure that will help our already sluggish ecomony. They aren't aware that Americans in the top ten-percent income bracket already carry seventy percent of the tax burden. They are unaware that last week Obama actually said that instead of expecting illegal immigrants to learn English, we should go out of our way to learn Spanish. They don't realize that he has the most liberal voting record in the Senate, and that's just from when he bothered to vote because he's withheld his vote on many important issues. What is he hiding? And how can he possible unite the country with a record like that?

Another disturbing piece of evidence that Obama appeals to juvenile-minded people is that my eight year-old likes him just because he gives good speeches. He'll see him on TV, with his booming voice and say, "I hope that guy will be the President."

"No you don't, son."

"Why not?"

"Because he's a socialist and socialism doesn't work."


I had a nightmare the other night where I was back in college at an Obama event. They asked if there were any questions and I raised my hand. In the dream I was so upset I could hardly get the words out.

"Why will you not admit that the surge is working? And why would you want your country to lose this war just so you can win the Presidency?"

He just smiled his winning smile and the crowd cheered. They didn't care what his answer was. He made them feel good.

WoooOOOoooooo!

After returning home from work last week my husband started helping me put our bedroom back together after my day of painting it. I finished screwing the switch plates back on and put the screwdriver down. A few minutes later we needed it again but couldn't find it. We looked everywhere and then gave up and got a different one. A few minutes later I returned to the room and saw the original screwdriver laying on the bed. "Oh, you found it! Where was it?" My husband turned around and said, "What?" He had not found it and yet it was laying there in plain view and none of the boys had been around to explain the mysterious incident. His eyes grew wide and he said, "We are so outta here." I was laughing too hard to take him seriously. Once I got a hold of myself I said there must be a logical explanation. We just had to think like Jason and Grant! So after brainstorming, we figured out that we had placed something on top of it (a candle) and when we moved it we just didn't notice the screwdriver there right away. We were official de-bunkers!

Normally something like a lost screwdriver would not cause such a stir as it did, but since moving to our new place it was not the first unusual thing to happen. A couple weeks ago, Cole came downstairs to tell me he saw dark shadows in my room and he was freaked out. He's not normally skittish and I reassured him that it was just the trees outside blowing around and there was a full moon so that would explain the shadows. He was not convinced so I walked him to his room and showed him there was nothing in mine. He finally went to sleep.


A couple nights later he came down again and said he heard strange noises. My husband and I said it was just a different house than he was used to and it made new noises. He went back to his room but returned within minutes and said he had seen the bathroom light turn on by itself. My husband rolled his eyes and walked him back to bed. When he returned he looked freaked out and said that the light really was on. And since Cole's room is the closest one to the bathroom he would have seen Clayton walk by if he had. And Clayton never turns on the light anyway because there's a night light. Hmmmmmm. I was getting pretty excited while my husband was already making plans to relocate.

We agreed not to mention it and to play it down if it came up again. But the next morning I suddenly remembered that on the second night we were here I had gotten up around 4am and noticed Cole's light on in his room. I mentioned to him the next day that he had gone to sleep with his light on (which he has never done before) and he looked completely surprised and said he had not. Hmmmmm.

The final freaky thing before the screwdriver incident was when Cooper asked me, "Mom, who was that in the kitchen with you?" to which I said, "No one. What are you talking about?" He said, "The man in the white shirt?" I tried not to act freaked out so he wouldn't think that was a great way to get Mom's attention, and he hasn't mentioned anything like it since.

This house has no bad vibes or heaviness about it so I think if there is something here, it's not a negative thing. I keep turning around expecting to see 'someone' but so far, no luck. They say that when you have your first true paranormal experience you will not even be able to wrap your brain around it. I hope it happens to me and not my husband or we probably will have to move again. He's not as ghost-friendly.

And for the record, I never let the boys watch Ghost Hunters or anything like it. When they ask me if I believe in ghosts I just say, "Some people do, some people don't and what do you think?" They just blink and walk away.

Just the other days Cole asked, "How long have the Ghost Hunters been ghost hunting?"

"About 10 years, I guess."

"With no success?" he asked.

"No, Cole, they've never seen a doggone thing..."