I'm Home

Imagine...

Being a first grader attending a school hundreds of miles away from the closest ocean shore. Taking a trip to the beach to collect seashells to prepare for your moment of glory at show and tell when you returned home. Walking along the glossy, packed strip of sand and marveling at hundreds of colorful, glistening seashells nestled in ocean foam just hours after a turbulent storm. Plucking them from the sand and placing them carefully in a basket. Knowing that this moment alone on the beach was a rare gift, just as these natural works of art were, but knowing you would have to choose only a small handful of them to share with others during a short period of time.

How would you select the ones to share? How would you feel about this heavy basket full of treasures, knowing most of them would go unseen by others?

This is how I feel about my memories of Sophie's Run this weekend. This year was very special, and I am excited to share my memories of the event but realize that even my normally endless supply of words I use to describe my experiences will not do them justice. I came back happy and full of energy. I will sort through them all and bring out the most colorful ones to share with you but will hold the others close and draw from their strength and beauty to keep me going through the year.

For those of you who were kind enough to share the day with me, thank you very much. I feel stronger than ever. It was truly a celebration this year. And for those of you I just met this weekend, I'm honored to know you and am looking forward to spending more time with you.

Thank you.

City and Country

I'm back from a very full day, yet I'm actually fairly relaxed. This morning I picked up Kathy fairly early, and we headed downtown to participate our community's annual 5K walk/run to support the fight against breast cancer. We were two of 2700 people there. The crowded event was beautifully coordinated and, except for some serious technical difficulties with the announcers' microphones, everything seemed to go very smoothly. Before the race began, we were instructed to kneel down on the ground to allow all cancer survivors in our midst to stand and be visible. Pretty powerful stuff.

As an air horn blasted and we began the race, we slowly lurched forward like a pink sea of zombies. There were many tennis shoes sporting fresh coats of pale pink spray paint on the feet around us. One group of ladies carried signs that proclaimed, "Save the Ta-Tas!" There were women in marabou and sequins and men wearing photos of their wives and mothers around us. The sunshine beat down on our skin right away, surprisingly hot for any sort of morning light, and we walked through the beautiful west side of town through tidy, ancient craftsman-style homes, sparkling office buildings overlooking the river, and clusters of cheery California poppies. Over the course of the race, we managed to fight our way to the front of the walkers and made decent time for not being in any real hurry. After our glorious finish and a quick drink of water from paper cups, I dropped Kathy off and headed home for a quick shower before I gathered my own family and met her yet again up at her family's campsite on the lake.

The lake was, as usual, gorgeous. The meandering streams I remember from my childhood were swollen, full of water that was quite recently snow. We set up chairs in front of their camp trailer, and Brian chased Erik around, who played in some very tiny snowbanks that shriveled under the sun before our eyes and manufactured dark mud puddles the other kids found irresistible. Alan barbecued hot dogs for lunch, and we enjoyed some quality time just hanging out with our friends and their family. We played with fat little frogs hopping over the marshy ground. Erik took a low-speed spin with Alan on the little orange motorcycle and got a ride in the paddleboat before he had sunscreen and sweat in his eyes and decided he needed some sleep. We loaded Erik's Tonka and our chairs back into the Jeep and drove back to town, where I enjoyed a trashy movie with a surprisingly depressing ending and Brian and Erik took naps. It's a sweltering evening, and the sky is full of smoke yet again. I was enjoying some couch time and discovered a glossy beetle crawling in my sweaty, campfire-scented hairdo, and my hysterical screeching and spastic dance of disgust awakened Brian from his slumber on the love seat. We are now all in the upstairs office. Erik just watched a video on You Tube featuring construction equipment operating to Fanfare From Also Sprach Zarathustra From 2001: Space Odyssey for no particular reason. I giggled at this bizarre specimen of manly cinema. Erik smiled and said, "Awesome" at the end, asking his father to play it again.

It will be a miracle if I survive the next week with all that is scheduled, but at least I'm as ready for it as I can be.

Watch Erik's favorite "awesome" video HERE.