TRAILBLAZING

I'm realizing that we haven't really gone out of my way to create any new traditions for our family.  I'm not even talking about exciting ones.  Year in, year out it's always the same.  Predictable about sums it up.  Sure there are the birthday cakes and overly decorated Christmas cookies; traditions carried out year after year without so much as a second thought and which, come to think of it, are pretty much no brainers.  I mean it's not like I can hide behind my pocket bible and lay claim to a secret Jehovah's Witness brotherhood for backup.   It's all been pre-programmed to happen automatically as if without even a second thought, a heartbeat away from instinct.  Well, all except those pesky little things like anniversaries, which if you read my last post and are still following, you're scratching your head wondering how I'm not in jail for that attemted homicide.  But back to my point:  traditions, or rather lackthereof.  What's a gal to do?  Here I am, a pilgrim (okay, not really but well, maybe just a little bit Mayflower) in a new land, I need to get my act together and figure this out fast so my kids don't end up having to dig their way out of the identity chasm we've created for them; credit card in one hand and botijo in the other. 



January 1, 2012 a new trail was blazed, albeit almost by mistake.  On a quest to tire the kids out for siesta, we took them up into the Parque Natural de la Sierra de Hornachuelos and started climbing.  Not an easy feat when you're schlepping a toddler hipside but I managed.  The views were stellar and the fresh air and sunshine did wonders for us all, though mainly me.  I was finally able to let go of the grudge-turned-grief for the anniversary that never was and leave it atop the rosemary peppered ridge.   What better way to ring in a brand new year than ascending paradise and tossing your baggage cliffside?  So I'm resolving to make a hike like this every New Year's Day; a family tradition to set each year off with a clear and better view from the day/year before. 

What new traditions have you brought to your family?

DREAMING IN TECHNICOLOR

It was cold.
It was wet.
It was windy.

How fitting that the weather decided to shit in my face for my official return to running at Saturday’s 10k run for Great Strides. I left the house knowing that Joe, my dad and the kids would be staying at home that morning, filling up on a warm pancake breakfast without me.

And I was okay with it.

Wading through the swell that was fast overtaking the parking lot I lamented the likelihood of a sparse turnout. Running in the rain is nice. Running in a typhoon, well, not so nice. By the time I was standing under the park shelter, the rain was coming down not in buckets but in sheets. It was going to be a long and lonely six miles.

And I was okay with it.

The route was two loops around the Raccoon River Lake. It’s a beautiful trail, much of it shaded by towering deciduous trees whose branches tickle the clouds before arching towards one another to form an overhead canopy. I swear every year that I’ll run the loop in the fall, my favorite time of the year, but true to form I always forget.

Rain pelting, I committed one foot in front of the other until I found my stride. After the first mile I didn’t even notice the rain. By the second mile the wind felt good. And by the third…by the third mile my miracle had arrived.

As I was rounding the second curve of the lake and coming up on a small clearing in the tree line that bordered the gravel path, it was as if an invisible hand was peeling back the layers of cloud that covered that miserable Saturday morning sky. Then, little by little, the hole in the sky began to fill with the most amazing sunlight. It was a Technicolor tribute; a buttery warm yellow pouring in from behind a wall of solid black. It very nearly stopped me in my tracks. In a word it was breathtaking.

As fast as the hole in the sky seemed to open up, the storm just dissipated; overtaken by that flood of sunshine from the heavens. After you’ve read stuff like this and this and this and this from me, you know as well as I that I am not one to write about my relationship with God, religion or anything even remotely spiritual. It’s just not my comfort zone. That said, the Technicolor sunshine that shone through over this weekend’s Walk was far beyond my wildest dreams for the day.

Des Moines, one of just 600 cities to host Great Strides, raised nearly a quarter of a million dollars for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation and while the totals aren't yet official, I know that we exceeded goal for this year's walk.   It's true that we don’t yet have our cure, that we're still amidst a brewing storm but this much I do know: the sunshine is coming.  It's not here yet but it is coming.

And I’m okay with it.

Penny for My Thoughts

"Come on, Mama...what are YOU gonna wish for?"

A wink and a smile crossed my face, "Nuh-uhh. If I tell you Buddy, it won't come true."

Truth be known, I was a little too self conscious to share my thoughts on this question. That, and a four year old has not the time nor the patience to put up with listening to them. This was us a month ago standing in the middle of The Mall of America, our backs turned to a coin filled fountain; breeding ground of wishes, dreams and surely pseudomonas . Joe had given everybody one penny. One chance at making a wildest dream come true. Pennies were cast in hopes of that one wish granted; one lobbed haphazardly, one dropped clumsily, one thrown at rocket speed and mine...mine...mine was burning a hole in the palm of my hand as I strategized.

I can't really blame CF for ruining the moment. No, not this time. I'll take full responsibility for this one. Me and my big fat Type A personality. My parents nicknamed me Patty Perfect as an adolescent. Perfect? Ha! Far from it but the name stuck anyway, like a sticky wad of bubblegum to the bottom of a brand new shoe. Alas, in most arenas I have found this nickname to be a true fit and this moment was no exception. Think hard Patty, this wish has got to be PERFECT.

My strategy for this wish went against every grammatical fiber of my being and as a cool sweat began to bead my furrowed brow, I closed my eyes in deep concentration, willing my wish to come true.

I wish for the excellent health of my family as we live a long and peaceful life in our white washed casa amidst the rolling hills of Spanish sunflowers in the province of Andalucia where our children will recieve news that a cure for cystic fibrosis has been found before the reporters show up at our doorstep to confirm the news that we have indeed won the national lottery.

The beauty of a wish is that there are no rules - something I clearly took advantage of in that run-on sentence of a hope. Lottery, sunflowers and white washed casa aside, there was no way I could leave out good health. But CF? Damn it! How do those two dreadful letters find their way into EVERYTHING?!

Is a penny enough to grant all that AND a cure? Probably not. Maybe next time I'll pack away the Type A, keep it simple and just wish for happiness.