Wednesday's Observation

For those of you not familiar with Ohio, there's this particular time of night, at this particular time of year, when the sky is just perfect. Dusk, twilight, sunset, whatever you call it, it marks the subtle beginning of another wonderfully hot, seemingly endless Midwestern summer.
Sure, there are sunsets everywhere. Every state. I've seen a good share of them. And they're all beautiful, in their own way. But none are quite like here. None have whatever it is Ohio puts into its air to make you feel young and carefree and open to life. The blue mixes with the yellow and the orange, and the world settles into soft light.
And as the color changes, the sounds change. Cicadas and crickets start their songs. Kids laugh and shout and splash and play in yards, because even though tomorrow's Thursday there's no school. All those sounds are lovely.
But I feel like I should stop here, to clarify and before I head too much further down that path. 
This is not about that.
This is about that perfectly right time, that perfectly right light and temperature, when you can put down the windows in the car and go really, really, really fast because the perfect song is playing, and it's compelling you to move.
You know that feeling? The wind (it's not a breeze. it's wind. seriously, i drive really, really fast.) coming in from every direction. Goosebumps, but good ones.
Crank it.
I propose we should all get a free pass - like in relationships, you know, when you get a few celebrities that you're allowed to sleep with if the opportunity every presents itself, as long as your significant other knows they're on The List? - for certain songs. No speeding tickets, no red lights, no douchebags that flick you off when you swerve around them screaming, "douchebag, fucking move." They aren't dancing songs, or slit-your-wrist songs, or memory lane songs or breakup songs or housecleaning songs. They're songs that are made for driving, fast, on nights just like this one.


Here are mine. For this drive, anyway.
1. The Cure, Just Like Heaven
2. Kings of Leon, Sex on Fire
3. Bush, Alien
4. Adele, Rumor Has It
5. The Verve, Bittersweet Symphony
6. Jakob Dylan, Something Good This Way Comes

**truly lovely photo, i think, found on flickr. thanks for sharing your images for those of us who only work in words.

A Fresh Perspective on Cancer

You guys know me. Pretty much everything I do is done in mostly melodramatic fashion. Inopportune moments and scene-making snippets.
So it almost wasn't even a surprise last Saturday morning when I was stretching my sore hamstrings after racing (which might be an overstatement) for a cure for cancer, and, reaching down to pull my nose closer to my knee, felt a lump on the back of my leg.
Argh.
Of all the 5Ks in all the world.
I swallowed down the panic, along with the urge to don something pink and re-run the last 50 yards in the special coned-off lane for survivors.*
Obviously, I was going to beat this. It would be a struggle, but it was born, or at least discovered, here amongst these strong, capable fighting women who were fighting the good fight. My fight.
I looked over at my friends, still happy, laughing and smiling and cheering, innocent of how my life change was about to change their lives. Every race they ran after this point would have new meaning. They'd probably shave their heads because God above knows I am not walking around like that by myself. I wasn't ready to rock their worlds quite yet. I wanted them to enjoy these last few moments of blissful peace, happily unaware of how close trauma was about to strike. As my eyes swelled and my vision blurred, I leaned down to stretch again, using my pant leg as a Kleenex.
Hmm.
Hold up.
On second touch, that didn't feel like what I would expect a gigantic, citrus fruit-sized tumor to feel like. It was... sort of soft. One might even say mushy.
And it smelled... fresh.
Okay, back up. Take it back. Not a tumor. Actually a wadded up dryer sheet stuck to the inside of my pants.
Phew. Dodged that bullet.
Two actually; at first second touch, I thought it was underwear. 



*I always want to think of myself as a real, live grown-up funny girl. The kind who can make really inappropriate jokes about the most sensitive of topics, and do so unapologetically. I'm getting there. But I'm not quite there yet. So I feel compelled to say that, duh, I don't think cancer is any laughing matter. And I would never, never, want to belittle the fight. So to all the exceptional people at Saturday's Race for the Cure, and all the magnificent women who will benefit, I honor you. I applaud you. I'll run till there's a cure, and probably keep right on making bad jokes and telling ridiculous stories long after.

Monday('s) Observation(s)*

It's not possible to wipe down the handles of an elliptical machine at the end of a good hard workout without invoking suggestive images of ... you know... good hard workouts. 

*I'm not sure yet if this'll be Monday's Observation, or Monday Observations. I suppose it'll depend on the Monday. And let's be honest. Consistency isn't really my thing. It could just end up on a Wednesday next time.

Stretch before you blog.

So, apparently, the problem with taking a fourish month hiatus from writing a modest, humble little blog of rants and raves about not much at all is that, when it comes time to start doing it again, there's pressure. It's self-imposed pressure, for sure - it's really not like any (okay, many) of you have been wailing and gnashing teeth to get me to pick up the pen. But it's like going to the gym. Or Flossing. Or a rock star's sophomore slump. You think it's no big deal to take a break, to rest up, to get unsore. But then, probably without even noticing, you get lazy. It's a vicious cycle. Inactivity breeds laziness, and round and round you go. I go. Blogless.
But it's a lovely, sunny Sunday, and I don't feel like exercising. Interesting conundrum, when one element of laziness trumps another.
Maybe if I get rid of all my floss, I'll finally finish my book.
That's all for now, kids. It really is sunny out there, and I really do like the sun. And I really don't want to overexert my creativity all at once, and risk a blog-ending injury.
Oh, and I (clearly) have nothing to write about, even by my standards. But I'm open for suggestions.

There's no such thing as a random act of kindness.

Honestly, I don't watch a lot of the news. 

I never have - I'm really more of an entertainment girl - but especially once I got to New York the local news was just too horrible and depressing.

But alas, I went and fell in love with a newsman.

I love that Brian Williams and sometimes, just sometimes, I'm willing to tune out the bad news for that sparkle in his eye. 

So imagine my surprise when today's news stories went something like this.

The "layaway angels." This rampant good-deed-doing sweeping the nation, this paying it forward, this desire to make yourself feel better (and that is not a bad thing, not at all) - all started by some woman in Michigan. Go figure.

One hundred... and one. We do a great job collectively, I think, of rallying around a cause. Until the next cause comes along (and one always does). Or until our own lives get in the way. Until we forget. But this guy said nope. Nope - I made a commitment when Katrina's devastation was everywhere, and even though the images are gone from the minds and TVs of most of the country, he hasn't forgotten. He promised to build 100 homes in one of the most ravaged parts of New Orleans. Until someone told him about the New Orleans lagniappe tradition - think a baker's dozen - and he went the extra mile, to 101.

Oh, did I mention he's the CEO of Barnes and Noble? Just goes to show you - books make everybody better.

Fairy dogparents. Do I really even need to say anything else?

There are good, good people in this world. Everywhere. I hope to be the kind of person that makes other people want to do good things.

Merry Christmas to all you beloved do-gooders!

(Especially you, Brian Williams, you cute thing.)

Bigger than football.

To everyone who thinks that college football is a detriment to our development, and that "kids today" can't be trusted to do the right thing, say the right thing, or step up to the plate,

that players today care more about bling than they do about God

or each other

or their communities

that these huge programs have taken over, and in their dominance have overshadowed why we go to college, why we cheer on Saturday afternoons, or what it means to be a member of something bigger than yourself...

I say you are wrong.

I'm proud of so many members of the Penn State family, the college football community in its united entirety, who have come together to remind us all the incomprehensible sins of some are not the attitudes of us all.
Hang in there, Lions.
Hang in there, State College.
Hang in there, everyone. Let's all do what we can to make sure lessons are learned.
O-H.

(5) Reasons to Be Happy

An impending Saturday afternoon trip to Target is always a reason to be happy.

But today's shopping list makes me extra giddy:
1. some kind of a string-type thing
2. toys with bells inside them
3. treats - i'm thinking liver or chicken flavored
4. nature's miracle

That's right, all; there are two new Stones in the world.

Meet Scout and Jem. I'm a horrible mother - I can't even tell which one is which - but these are my two newest, fluffiest, sweetest, tiniest, bright-eyed and bushytailed reasons to be happy.