Steele (the Day)

Yet Another Tweetup

// June 14th, 2010 // 10 Comments » // My Fabulous Life

Best news flash ever: I got to meet another imaginary friend last week. Two, actually. They live together. Sara (Gitzengirl) and Riley. I’ve been dying to meet them, and one word says it all: awesomesalsa.

I’ve mentioned before that Sara and I first “met” on Pete Wilson’s blog when we sort of hijacked his comment section with a conversation of our own. Sorry Pete. Then I began following her on Twitter, but after that we started “hanging out” on the internets. We have in common (besides a little sass) the love of Jesus, the Panthers (yes, the ones who out-basketballed Kansas), and food. Well, sort of.

After I tweet a meal she often says “I’ve never even heard of that.” She is a meat-and-potatoes Iowa farm girl, and my mom tried her darnedest to raise me as one. Mom never could talk me into a pork chop, and Sara was raised on them. Despite that minor difference, it took me all of five minutes to feel like I’ve known her all of my life.

The really random but absolute God thing is that we live about 7 miles apart. Really. We virtually travel to Mars and meet in the midst of the Nashville internets only to find we live 7 miles apart?

So when I had the chance to pop in on her last week, I carpe diemed the opportunity.

Probably wasn’t grammatically correct to verb that, huh?

I followed Riley’s “hysterical barking” (Sara’s words) to the door of her condo. Sara’s skin caught my eye right away – smooth as silk. Wow, gorgeous! Almost as great as her smile. Why she’s so camera-shy, I’ll never know. And her warm, loving hugs were just what I needed at the end of a long week. She loves to laugh in spite of having to stare chronic illness in the face every single day. We started talking about a million things in the short time I was there and finished maybe two of them.

I’ll be back. There are stories to finish and stories to start.

And then there’s Riley. He is like this little obedient 4 year old person outfitted in fur. He tells you where to scratch him and he sits and poses for the camera. Seriously, this dog is not normal. Adorable, loving, hyper as all get out (he literally sprouts fur-wings and flies over furniture) and then just sits and admires you (me). He graciously gave me kisses (not sure who made the first move) and let me hold and snuggle him. If you ever need a puppy fix, Riley’s your man. You may have to go through me first though.

That’s two imaginary friends I’ve met now (three, counting Riley), and I feel so blessed that neither was an ax murderer. Whew.

Tea today: Yogi Green “Revive”

EDIT AND UPDATE OF EPI C PROPORTIONS:While in Seattle meeting Annie, you may (or may not) remember that I also met another imaginary friend Wendy of Weight…What?! How I could leave her out of this, I’ll never know. Obviously I should have eaten pork chops as a child. And not tried to write a blog post at bedtime.

One Year Later

// June 7th, 2010 // 18 Comments » // Family, My Fabulous Life

He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart.

You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.

~Cicero

It was a year ago that Lucky told us he was ready to go to The Bridge. We were so worried that we wouldn’t know the right time, but he “told” us on a Sunday evening, and on Monday morning we made the call. I don’t think a day has gone by since that I haven’t thought about him. That’s what happens after a mutt spends 14 years wrapping himself around your heart.

I miss hearing his tags jingle as he trots through the house.

I miss his toenails clicking on the floor, and the smell of his Frito feet.

I miss seeing his nose pressing against the window in the breakfast nook when I’m at the outside faucet, getting pupkiss all over, and whining to come out and “help.”

I miss cooking his chicken vegetable soup every Sunday night, the only thing he would eat for his last six months. It was a labor of love (and we haven’t had chicken vegetable soup since).

I miss the sound of his breathing at night as he slept between us, and even his really bad doggy breath.

I even miss his last days when he depended on us for everything and got pretty messy.

Enjoy the “Lucky at the Bridge” video in my sidebar, or read how this hapless little puppy found his way into our hearts for 14 years here, here, and here, or check out other “related posts” below.

Lord, let me be the kind of person my dog thought I was.

Tea today: Stash Ginger Peach

Happy Birthday, Mr. Burgundy

// February 13th, 2010 // No Comments » // Family, My Fabulous Life

I wanted to do a sweet, poignant interview with Ron Burgundy about his big birthday today. I was all prepared for him to impart his usual wisdom and light, cheer and good will, but none was to be found. I wanted him to tell you how age is only a number and not a condition. How every year has been the best year yet. How grateful he was that I gave him the thinnest years of my life.

Nope.

I’m “airing” this anyway, because it’s his day and he deserves all the attention.

“Will you answer a few questions for me? Your thoughts about turning (ahem) sixty?”

“No.”

“Why not? I need to write a blog post and you’re the only blog fodder I have this week. How does it feel to be turning sixty?”

“Terrible. Depressing.” (Shifts ice bag on ankle).

“Why?”

“I’m old.” (Heavy sigh).

“Sixty isn’t old. Not any more. By the time your dad was sixty he was pretty sick, and by the time my dad was sixty he’d had two heart attacks and a triple bypass. You’re still running marathons and doing extreme kickboxing.”

“I don’t want to be sixty. You hear all the time about people who die at 60…62….”

“Do you have any regrets?”

“Yeah, I wish I’d have saved more money.”

“There’s still time. The guy who invented the frisbee just died and he was 90. And look at Colonel Sanders.”

Silence.

Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up dead people. He’s obviously a better interviewer than interviewee. Whatever.

Go wish him Happy Birthday on Twitter or Facebook and maybe he’ll think sixty isn’t so bad by the time he hits sixty-one. I think he’s still pretty awesome. He can out-kick, out-lift, out-bike, and out-run all of our kids and his young wife. Here’s my favorite picture of him from vacation.

I dare anyone to age so gracefully. I just love this guy. The fact that we’ve been together for 38 years in no way makes him old. It just makes me happy. Isaiah 40:31

Tea today: Good Earth Pomegranate Superfruit

Mother Love

// December 29th, 2009 // No Comments » // Faith, Family

I had several posts in my head to write about “Love” for the topic of the One Word at a Time blog carnival hosted by Bridget Chumbley this week. Try as I might I kept coming back to unconditional parental love and a poem that I was given nearly 20 years ago. I do not know the author, but will credit him/her if anyone happens to know. Unconditional love, like our Father has for us, and like every mother and father has for their children, no matter what.

“I don’t remember…”

// November 3rd, 2009 // No Comments » // Faith, Family

I’m joining Bridget Chumbley and Peter Pollock this week for their “One Word at a Time” Blog Carnival. Stop by Peter’s blog and see all the great entries on this week’s word:

Car keys. Dental appointments. Birthdays. All relatively unimportant when you look at remembering life. And love. And forgetting how to do both.

I clearly recall the first time my dad told me “I don’t remember.” Those three words told me so much. The cold reality of finally humbling himself to the ravages of Alzheimer’s was so evident in his eyes.

He would have no more yesterdays to remember.

He was aware of his dilemma for a while. That vague, obtuse state of mind when you know you can’t remember.

He knew he wasn’t the meticulous, sharp-penciled accountant he had once been, though he’d spend hours scrawling random numbers in ledger books for no other reason than he could. There was a whisper of familiarity there. He struggled with pride and was able to fool a lot of people for a long time because he was so brilliant, and didn’t want anyone else to know his debilitating secret. He did this for many years until one day he just up and said “I don’t remember.”

The white flag of surrender was flown.

That was so painful for me. It was easier when he’d call me for the umpteenth time and ask me how to microwave popcorn, like it was the first time he had ever asked. Or for him to refer to one of my boys as “what’s-his-name” in a joking manner, pretending he really did know of whom he spoke. Or when he’d say “Hi There” and make you think he knew who you were.

Eventually everyone was named “There.” Some knew his ruse and some didn’t. His amiable disposition always took him far.

We had some fun with Dad’s memory and lack thereof. After all, it was what it was. Coping wears a dark, humorous cloak sometimes.

He remembered where his stockbroker was and drove downtown to see him. What he didn’t remember is that you don’t stop your car in the traffic lane, shut it off, and just walk in the office.

He remembered that he didn’t want anyone to eat his turkey sandwich, but didn’t remember that he hid it in an old dresser down by his tool bench. Mom found it several years after he was gone.

He remembered how to drive, but he never remembered where he put the keys. That was to everyone’s advantage. Eventually when we intentionally hid his keys, he gave up looking for them, thinking he was the one who had lost them. It was all in the name of love, safety, and the preservation of his dignity. We kept him busy studying the driver’s manual so he could “get his license back.”

“Tomorrow, Dad,” I’d respond when he asked when he could take the driving test. Tomorrow never came. It never does when you don’t know there was a yesterday. But that never dimmed his hope of looking forward to tomorrow.

Dad struggled to recapture the past, to keep alive some memory, but neither was to be found. Our desire was to make his today pleasant, knowing that he would never again have another yesterday.

Today I remember him in gratitude and prayer. And I so appreciate all the yesterdays he gave me. Remembering them is a cherished gift.

Join us for the upcoming “One Word at a Time” Blog Carnivals here.

Tea today: Jasmine

I ? NY

// November 1st, 2009 // No Comments » // Family

A year ago I chased Ron Burgundy and our daughter all over Chicago while they were running the marathon, trying to figure out the train system and snap the elusive father-daughter photo. My directionally-challenged self failed miserably.


With this year’s marathon Kate fulfilled a life-long dream of going to New York, though I don’t thing she ever intended her “dream trip” would include a 26.2 mile run with 42,000 of her closest friends through the Big Apple and the boroughs. 


We weren’t invited able to go on this trip. She went with a gaggle of her Des Moines friends and left Mom and Dad behind. I wasn’t too concerned. She’s a grown woman with just a little ADD and a disdain for anything that resembles boredom. A frightening combination to travel to the Big Apple, indeed. But she has dependable friends, some of whom are familiar with the big city.


I was pretty calm about things until last night when she called and said “I don’t remember training for this.”


Oops.


She was so struck by the big city, seeing STOMP on Broadway, and looking forward to crashing the Today Show next week, that the thought of running a little marathon today was not foremost in her mind.


As I followed her on Athlete Tracker, the marathon’s servers crashed. Surely they knew her mother would be sitting in Iowa wanting to know where their daughter was on a Sunday morning? 


They didn’t hear my screams. I was so frustrated, I sent a tweet out about her at the starting line, and fortunately a friend of mine was able to log on to the site, scream “GO! GO!” at her computer monitor while on the phone with me, and send me screen shots of her progress late in the race.


She crossed the finish line, sent me a text saying she survived, bemoaned the hills, and made me proud – again. What grit. She later said she about threw up with 3 miles to go.


“I think it was the Snickers bar the guy handed me on the course.” That’s my girl. Never lure a dietitian with chocolate on a marathon course.


Here’s a shot of her finishing up in Central Park, dressed in a green bubble suit. Doesn’t she look fabulous? (You may need to click the image to view her).

They are always your babies, aren’t they? 

Giving credit where credit is due

// September 25th, 2009 // 6 Comments » // Faith

This is an apology of sorts. Or not.

I’ve been praying for something for several months now. Lots of things, actually, but also for, shall we say, a “situation.” Praying for something not to happen that I didn’t want to happen because I didn’t feel it was in the best interest of the parties involved. “Please Lord, don’t let…“

My prayer was answered – this time the answer was Yes. This “situation” went away. Apparently God felt the same way I did.

But in the process of my prayer being answered, a heart was broken. Or at the least, bruised. How could I humbly thank Him for answering my prayer when I was listening to someone tell me about their grief, their heartbreak, their lost hope? I really struggled with this one. Relieved, yet guilty.

Exchanging my relief and gratitude for the another’s heartbreak is not exactly fair trade.

At church last week Pastor talked about forgiveness. That’s it! God will forgive me that I had caused someone heartbreak. Whew. I knew there was some sort of biblical step I could take that could absolve me of my guilt. My confession commenced.

Then the booming voice from heaven said…ok, really, it was a whisper of the Holy Spirit…“Just who do you think you are that you were in control of this situation? I knew what you wanted. I knew what needed to happen for the good of all involved. It just so happens, young lady (yes, I do believe He called me that) that we were on the same page this time.”

Who am I to take credit for something that I never had control over in the first place?

God wants us to grow and become more like Him, and after my decades of experience, I know that this process most likely involves some pain, perhaps suffering, or at the very least an uncomfortable, restless heart. All of which are necessary for us to once again realize how much we really need Him to help us heal from the sometimes inevitable collateral damage.

And He gives us more resilient hearts for the next time.

Tea tonight: Tazo Zen

Final Goodbye

// June 30th, 2009 // 6 Comments » // Uncategorized

Coach Thomas praying with his team before the West Marshall game 2008 – the first game after an EF-5 tornado destroyed much of Parkersburg a year ago, including the high school and Coach’s home.

Today our community said goodbye to Coach Thomas. Not just our community – friends, former students, and former athletes from all over the country. College coaches. Local farmers. A US Senator and our Governor. The tiny town of Parkersburg, Iowa was transformed into a grieving sea of people from all walks of life.

Ron Burgundy, Rick Coleman, and I stood in line for 3 1/2 hours last night to pay our respects to the family. The visitation was supposed to be from 3:30 to 8. We went at 7:00 and the line snaked through the tiny town of P’burg. Around 8:15 a friend of the family wandered to the end of the line and said “The family will stay until you have all been through. They want to speak to each of you.” We got home at 11:45 pm.

The Thomas family literally held up every one of those mourners as they went through the line. Only God could give them that strength.

We’re talking thousands of people here, folks. People from every walk of life. People from every demographic. People of every race, creed, and color. Those are the people Ed touched. Most of them were not football players.

While we waited in line, we saw old friends and shared funny stories. It was impressive to see the players who played for Coach and are now in the NFL come back to honor him as pall bearers. The chatter became more somber as we neared the church, and the sight as we entered was breathtaking. Flowers, plants, photographs, and memorabilia everywhere. Coach’s life flashing in front of our eyes.

As we stood by the casket, the largest of two strong, burly, kick-boxing men I was with was reduced to tears. Sobbing, shoulder-shaking tears. I always carry Kleenex, and Rick didn’t have his man-bag.

Ed’s wife hugged my two companions who had been a part of Ed’s life like she would never let them go. Like she couldn’t let them go. Their lives had been intertwined for many years. The church is quite small, and only family and close friends were given invitations to sit in the church for the funeral. The family asked Ron and Rick to be among them. The overflow would be in the community center and available via video feed.

Not wanting to take seats away from family, these two humble men hemmed and hawed, but the family insisted.

As we walked the 6 blocks back to the car, Ronnie said to me “I don’t think I’ve ever been so honored by anything in my life.” That’s saying a lot. After all, this guy has a key to the city and had a street named after him, among other things. All of those things paled in comparison.

Because this honor was all about relationships. And love. And God.

And a relationship with a loving God.

They had that in common more than anything.

At the service today, Ed’s eldest son said “You can be sad the rest of the day, but come tomorrow, once you wake up, it’s time to get going … There’s a lot of work to be done in this town.” That’s what his dad would have wanted him to say.

You can read more stores and memories about Coach here.

I still don’t understand, but after listening to Pete Wilson’s final “Q” series tonight, I was l left refreshed by a couple of Pete’s comments:

Ron put together his final tribute to Coach Thomas tonight. You owe it to yourself to watch.

Now let’s get going. Coach would want us to.

Tea tonight: green with acai

Waiter, There’s a Man in My Soup

// June 24th, 2009 // 9 Comments » // Family, My Fabulous Life

I don’t surprise easily – I’m always so keenly aware of my surroundings and all. Or at least I thought I was until the fall of ’99.

Since the early 90′s I’ve been an active member of a national professional organization – not because I had so much to offer, but because I had so much to learn. Every year I’ve gone to the annual meeting, and this particular year I was asked to speak, which coincided with the same year I was selected as a Fellow in the organization.

So one day I wake up and someone thinks I’m kind of a big deal. Huh?? I was so humbled, because other Fellows before me were the very same ones whose brains I had picked for years. I’m certain this was a product of 1) the element of time (I’ve been in this field a long time) and 2) inquiring minds (mine) want to know – and ask until they get answers.

Ron Burgundy wanted to come along for the trip and to see the presentation (a piece of paper), but I said no. It would be too expensive for him to fly out there, and frankly, I enjoyed the time with old friends and a few days away from him. (You all know that’s normal – don’t judge me!) Four days of lectures, meetings, and breakouts, juggling PowerPoints, flash drives, laptops, and taking notes. So why in the world would he want to go there? Just to see me get a certificate with a dozen other people? I had effectively discouraged him. Whew.

The new Fellows are honored at the banquet, which is the highlight of the week with 1500 in attendance. Really important and famous physicians, nurses, exercise physiologists, and researchers (in this professional circle) had other more prestigious awards bestowed upon them and my friends and I always sit toward the front so we can rub elbows with them. It’s a nice formal dinner, with tuxed waiters and the whole nine yards. And it’s a time when we Iowa folk need to be on our best city behavior for a change. But now and then we still throw food.

The waiter assigned to my side of the table was a disaster – and he really creeped me out. From the time I sat down, he would brush up against my back, tousle my hair, and even get real close behind me so I could feel his breath on my neck. He would touch my shoulder, sprinkle water from the pitcher on my back, and in general be way too touchy-feely. Ugh. I mentioned it to the friends on either side of me, and at one point after he breathed on my neck I made the comment to my friend Janie that I was “afraid this creep is going to be in my hotel room tonight.” Early on, I made it a point to not make any eye contact with him. I certainly didn’t want to egg him on. He was always behind me, which made me squirm even more.

About 30 minutes into the dinner, the creepy dude not only slopped water on me again, but proceeded to trip and fall on his face behind me as he stumbled into me and my chair. Glancing at the legs and torso, sprawled on his belly, I just wanted to crawl in a hole. This guy was sick. I was feeling stalked and starting to get a little paranoid. I couldn’t wait to call Ron Burgundy when I got back to my room and tell him of the experience.

The head waiter then approached me and said that my waiter was new, and if he was offending me or causing me any trouble he would ask him to leave and assign me a different one. Then I felt terrible. Here this guy’s probably working for minimum wage and just got the job – how could I possibly have him kicked to the curb? I told him not to worry about it – it would be fine, and I would just continue to ignore his aggressive, inappropriate behavior. I could be civil about it without making a scene.

My entree arrives. There was some massive plate shuffling and I waited patiently as my waiter placed my plate in front of me, but the plate just sort of hovers in my face. I glanced up at him and….

AND LEAPED OUT OF MY CHAIR.

“YOU IDIOT!!”

Yep, there he was, Ron Burgundy, in the flesh.

My waiter.

My shock and awe could not be contained, as captured in the video below. He was obviously having the time of his life, constantly hamming it up for the camera like it was his job. Well, I guess in reality, it is his job.

This was a one hour video, condensed down to a couple of minutes so you can’t see me pick the food out of my teeth, or snort uncontrollably at the jokes coming from across the table. Note the hysterical restrained laughter of my friends, who were all in on the prank, as were the other waiters. RB even went to a pre-dinner waiter meeting, got fitted for his waiter tux, and conspired with the head dude. Then he planted his video camera behind a fake fig tree and had it on autopilot whole time. It amazes me to see how gracefully surprised I was, and how inconspicuous I was in the room when I realized what was happening.

I was right, that “creepy waiter” ended up in my hotel room that night, then promptly flew back to Iowa the next morning. The lengths that silly boy won’t go to in order to pull off a surprise.

To this day, when I attend the annual meeting, the first thing people say to me isn’t “How is the sucking up lobbying going?” or “What’s your committee up to?” People just point to me and say “You’re the one whose husband dressed up as the waiter in Phoenix…”

Yes, I’m famous in that circle – famous for making a fool of myself in front 1500 of my esteemed colleagues.

But it is one of RB’s proudest moments!

Tea today: Genmaicha

Happy Father’s Day, Chuckie

// June 21st, 2009 // 7 Comments » // Uncategorized

Copping out with an old Father’s Day post. Because nothing has changed between you and me since then. Except I’m drinking cheap tea today.

I miss you, Dad!

**UPDATE**
Forgot to tell you about my Father’s Day present – Ron Burgundy bought me a new camera – a Canon something-or-other. Need to read the instructions yet. I just love it! Perhaps my slamming the old one against the wall too many times gave him the hint. Hopefully you’ll notice fewer blurry photos and a bit more color. Woo Hoo! I told him he could use it as his Father’s Day present, too.

Tea today: Green with lemongrass and spearmint