Somebody's Going to Emergency....

Hey faithful reader, I know it's been forever since I last posted, but I've been planning this one for a little while now. (Unfortunately.) Our story begins on June 11th, a mere 19 days ago, I was 6 geocaches away from my 100th find and I had a route planned to go for a short walk down the 202 bypass and grab them. (Grab= sign the physical logbook and log the find online.)

I didn't want to go by myself so needed a partner in crime. Obviously my first thought was Caroline, my awesome 16 year old neighbor. (Pro tip: you look a lot shadier by yourself, just loitering about, hence the dog and other people)

Caroline, seen here. With two random kids and a little black dog.

The above picture was taken for the sole purpose of making my mom jealous. She's living it up in Alaska for 10 days, so I had the twins and the doggie all to myself.
Anyways, Caroline quickly agreed. We decided to make a date of it, a doggie play date.

Which is Trixie?!

Caroline signed up for Geocaching.com and off we went! We grabbed the first 3, no problem, super easy magnetic C&Ds. (Cache & Dash) Cache 4 was a little more challenging, it was not along the 202 bypass, it was down by a creek behind a housing development. There was a small wooded area and my coords were bouncy so we went straight for the creek, there were some woods right by it. Trixie, being Trixie, wanted nothing but to leap into the creek from the bridge. I let her go in.

It's not that deep, she lays down as soon as she hits water.

We finally got on track and got the cache, it ended up being about 30 feet ahead of the creek, but it was hot and Trixie earned a dip. 5 was another easy grab, and my 100th find was hanging on a fence, about 600 feet down the road. We were going for it. It was on a fence along a treeline and we had to go through some high grasses. But we got it. Caroline's 6th find and My One Hundredth Find.

See it? I sure did!

It was totally worth what's about to come. In fact,  I even got a picture of the exact moment that I would come to despise. Maybe. (Maybe it's the exact moment, not maybe I would despise it.) See, here's us, squatting nicely and smiling for a picture after our big find.

[not pictured] Me getting Lyme Disease.

I have Lyme Disease.

Ok, it may not be Lymes. This is still unresolved.
Seriously, 19 days and we have no idea what is going on. All I know is that I woke up the next day to this: WARNING: This is totally gross. 

This is the LEAST gross picture of the bite/lesion.

Ok, it's a bug bite, no big deal. it itches like a bitch but it'll go away, that's what bug bites do: they itch and then go away. Right?

Right?

Apparently not. The next day I was hosting a Quizo and I showed a picture of my leg (and ever growing rash) to Ronan, who was convinced I was going to lose my leg or die. Anyways, it was clearly worse than before. So I promised that the next day I would call my Doctor. It was worse the next day, the day I promised to call the doctor. Spoiler: I didn't.

Here's a fun fact about me: I hate going to the doctor, I mean I really hate going to the doctor. I like doctors, I believe they are good people, but I don't ever want to go to see them professionally. You want to hang out? Play some card/board games, watch a movie, study some bible? Awesome. If I'm sick, I would almost rather die than see you. Almost.
Here's a fun (true) example. Last year I had a little cold, maybe some strep. Then it was a little sinus infection, then a horrific sinus infection. Then it moved to my lungs. It was an awful, but survivable, bronchitis. Then it was pneumonia. (This took place over a three month period, during which I was working 50+ hours a week with a 2 hour daily commute) I waited 2 weeks with the pneumonia and then my best friend made me go to the CVS Minute Clinic. I really didn't want to go.
Also, I've done that, with the pneumonia, twice.

My mom convinced me to at least call Doctor Silver and see if he wanted me to come in. So I called and he was out at a conference, not to return to the office until Monday. So I told the nurse what was up and she said that she'll let him know when he checks in and then call me back, should be within the hour. 5 minutes later she calls me back and says I need to be seen. Not Monday. Now. Go to the ER, the CVS Minute Clinic, Urgent Care, get seen now.
After waiting an HOUR to be seen at the "minute" clinic*, she takes one look at my leg and says, nope. We can't help you, you need to go to Urgent Care or the ER. Perfect, just what I was trying to avoid.

*Seriously, I still love the Minute Clinic. I'd go there any day.

I went to the jerky Urgent Care. No wait, thankfully. But the Doctor was an ass. Like, seriously, thanks for validating all of my reasons for hating you. He basically told me that it was a bug bite and I was over-reacting. He gave me a bug bite discharge printout. (the bugs listed I have unfortunately committed to memory) Mosquito, fleas, bedbugs, chiggers, bees, and wasps.

So when my leg looked like this the next day (that's day 4 for those of you keeping track) of spider bite/bug bite/death/rash of doom/nobody knows what they're talking about:

EGAD! Call a priest! 

I thought he might be wrong. And an ass.

You're wrong AND an ass! Yay!

However, I told the good doctor that I would wait until Monday unless "my leg swelled to double in size or you get a fever" so I waited. In retrospect, I didn't ask what he meant by fever. My temp that day was 97.3º so 98.6º might have been feverish. I should have clarified. My bad.
Day 5 was Father's Day! Yay Daddy!! My dad, who I surprisingly don't talk a lot about here, is awesome. He's a nurse, he got his RN 2 years ago and works at a psychiatric hospital. Anyways, he's a mandated worker, so if the nurse after him doesn't show up, guess what? you're not leaving.

Me and Pops. Like, our regular faces. That's just us.

So the nurse replacing him overslept and was an hour late. I had an AWESOME Dad's Day planned. We were supposed to go to the zoo for a member's only early open day, then church, then out to lunch. That.... didn't happen. at all.
Instead, he got to my house super late, and had me text this picture to my mom and step-mom.

That is ONE DAY after the other picture. I thought I was going to die.

The three of them (mom, dad, step-mom) made me go back to urgent care. Bridget wanted dad to take me to the ER, but I convinced him Urgent Care was ok. It was a three hour wait. Literally. Over three hours from sign-in to seeing a doctor. On a sunday morning. FML, right? No. This Doctor was AMAZING. For the first time in my life I felt like a doctor actually listened to me and didn't dismiss me as a child or whining or over-reacting. But that's another story.
Doctor Packer was great. She actually examined my leg and asked questions and seemed to give a shit. Which I've never really experienced before, so it was very nice. She gave me an antibiotic cream, a P/O corticosteriod, and an antihistamine, because apparently my body was flipping shit and I didn't notice.
Honestly though, if I have to wait three hours to see a doctor that actually gives a shit, DONE. I am so there.

It's going away!! Finally!

After one day of the steroid and antibiotic, it was starting to go away. It looks a little more purple in the picture, but the raised part was almost completely gone and the coloring was just a bit off. Okay, it was still terrifying but better! I promise! I was on the steroid for 8 days and it was SO MUCH BETTER. It was really almost gone. Then I was done the pills and two days later, this shit.

dafuq?

I just want it to go away. It's a spider bite, it's a mosquito bite (I never believed that), its impetigo, whatever. Make it go away.

It's ending soon, I promise.

So today, now yesterday, I went for a hike through Valley Forge National Historical Park with my friend Kubs. He's like an expert in everything. So I was regaling to him the odyssey of my wound, and he asked, "does it itch?" Ohmahgad, does it ever. It never stopped itching. He said it sounds almost like a tick bite. OH. MY. GOD. It hits me. I remember finding a tick, a dead tick, on my comforter the day the bite appeared. It stands to reason, even if he himself wasn't the jerk that got me, that there were other jerk ticks nearby. And it's not like, totally out of the realm of possibility that in the state with the highest incidence of Lyme Disease in the country by far, I mean by like 1,400 cases above the #2 state, I could get attacked by a tick or two. Especially out in the woods and high grasses like we were.

Usually after geocaching in high grasses/wooded areas/fields/whatnot (this is known as "bushwhacking" in the caching world) you brush off, or have a friend get, the ticks, the many many ticks, from your clothes before you get back in the car. And then you find some more, and throw them out the window of said car. Don't get me wrong, this is not always the case, and is hardly ever the case in urban caching, but I'm used to it. And I didn't see any ticks that day. But... Deer ticks are super effing tiny. I found one one me once in Shippensburg. Actually, Kubs found one on him today after our hike.
I'm going to my actual doctor, Dr. Silver, on Monday, I'll tell him I think it might be Lyme's and hopefully he'll run an ELISA and we'll find out for sure.

I'm so screwed.

Sorry for the long post, here's a potato.

[Today's blog title comes from Season 2, episode 16 of the same title. They got it from a song called "New York Minute" by Don Henley." The quote in the song is Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail. I highly recommend you give it a listen. Faithful reader, aka Amanda, you already know this information. Next time I see you, I will give you a real potato.]

Viva Las Vegas!!

I went to Las Vegas last weekend with the boy because he was the best man in a friend's wedding. That's right folks, a Vegas wedding. It was awesome.
First thing's first. In our hotel, there was a wine shot bar. And where we went for dinner had a pool of fire. Just fire, in a pool of water.

Pay as you go wine shot bar

Holy Shit! Water on Fire!

They got married at a very sweet little chapel, it was a short ceremony and they wrote their own vows. They both wrote their own, very nerdy, vows.
Some requisite wedding shots:

Champagne!

Then we went to the Valley of Fire for photos after. Oh. My. God. The Valley of Fire is amazing!!! It's so beautiful, I couldn't get over it.
First, they have killer bees. True story. So that's the first thing we see when we get there. Beware of Killer bees.

Africanized Honey Bee warning. Gee, thanks.

Totally worth it for this view:

That's Phil.

 Several of us decided that we needed to climb the rocks. Dunno if it's allowed, but we went for it.

Falling to my doooooooom!

And for the record, these were my perfectly-appropriate rock climbing shoes. 

Seems legit.

So that was it, my glorious trip to Las Vegas. At least we didn't end up on a Soviet Submarine. (FYI, that's a Doctor Who reference. Watch it. You're welcome.)

It starts.

Today is my first official day as Mommy-sub. My step-sister left for Germany and France last night so I technically started yesterday at 4, but I felt like I was just babysitting like I normally do. Waking up in the morning and getting them to school? Mommy's job.
Last night was okay. We went to swimming then came home, had dinner and pretty much went straight to bed. I woke up about 10 minutes later than I wanted to, but had enough time to get the kids totally ready (including teeth brushed, toys away and beds made) I even had time to put a french braid in Sarah's hair and we were early for school. Yeah, I rock.
The downside? I don't have a job so now I'm sitting in the house by myself. I'm not usually up this early to begin with, and I'm bored out of my mind.
I leave you with this: I may need to make an entire post dedicated to the random places I find a Sleeping Sarah. Because really kid?

See, it’s all about budgeting your time

I got this blog title from C.J. Cregg's first lines in the show West Wing, upon which my blog (and life) are loosely based. See, our heroine, C.J., is running on a treadmill at the gym. She is talking to a cute guy on the adjacent treadmill and she says, "You can have a normal life. You’d be amazed at how normal I can be. See, it’s all about budgeting your time. This time, this hour, this is my time. Five a.m. to six a.m. I can workout, as you see. I can think about personal matters. I can meet an interesting man. [Her beeper goes off.] The trick is..." C.J. checks her beeper while still running on the treadmill. What she finds on her beeper is distracting, however, and she falls off the machine. In a ridiculously C.J. fashion.

I decided to start working out.

I'll let that sink in.

Better? Okay. I'm a lot like CJ in that I would totally be that girl falling on a treadmill at the gym. Also why I don't go to the gym.
But I do need to start doing something to get healthier. I'm lazy. Really I am. I like, nay, love television. I am watching In Plain Sight on Netflix as I type. And I have been watching 6+ hour Bones marathons on a decently regular basis. Not to mention the literally days of my life dedicated to Doctor Who. I love Doctor Who.
I saw a thing on Pinterest *pinterest!* about doing "workouts" to television shows based upon character actions and/or quotes. I usually stick to drinking games based upon this premise.
So I made my own. They all seemed pretty easy ... at the time. 

My, how wrong one can be about one's own abilities.

Here is my Doctor Who "workout" list. If you are a fan of (Whovian)/have ever seen/heard of the show, you should be duly impressed. I had NO IDEA what I was getting into.

When anyone says Doctor: 10 jumping jacks
When anyone says Run: run in place 30 seconds
When the Doctor uses the Sonic Screwdriver: 5 Pushups
Anyone goes in/out of the TARDIS: 10 squats
If, Gallifrey forbid, the Doctor loses the TARDIS: 30 mountain climbers
The TARDIS sound: 20 sit-ups
See a Dalek: RUN in place 30 seconds
See any other monster: 10 twisting sit-ups (the ones that work obliques)
Anyone says their catchphrase: 10 second plank/ 3 push-ups
Anyone breaks time: Yoga that shit. Down dog/ plank/ cobra/ up dog/ down dog. Hold 5 seconds each. Double if it's Rose Tyler, because screw her. If you needed a reason to hate her, this is it.
Any time you giggle/ chortle/ laugh out loud: Yoga that shit. Mountain/ touch your toes/ half up (flat back)/ touch again/ mountain/ prayer position. No hold, this should flow.
If the Doctor rambles on or makes up words to explain everything that only serves to confound those around him: Take a good Horse stance, because you're going to do an 8 step block. [Right low block, left low, right inside to outside, left inside to outside, right high block, left high block, right outside to in, left outside to in.]
If it's listed as "anyone" and that someone is The Doctor: Double it. Because screw me.
And if, by chance, it's an episode that The Doctor meets a meanie that he wants to save, give up, because when he offers Meanie an out to save themselves, you're doing all of the above, cut numbers in half except when this causes you to have an uneven side (ie. twist sit-ups/ yoga/ 8 count block) then add 5 push-ups to make up for it.

This was MY FIRST WORKOUT.

My legs still hurt. : (
I'll do this again tomorrow, but for now, I'm working on drinking to In Plain Sight, thankyouverymuch.

So now I can embarrass myself in the privacy of my own living room. Sometimes in front of Jen. : )

Take Out the Trash Day

Dear Only Faithful Reader, this is not so much a "blog post" as it is a brain dump. So Amanda, try to not judge me too hard. J'adore.

I have been thinking a lot on how I never finish anything, about how I aim for the lowest possible option when I do anything. I shoot for the C+ to pass, I do an easy job that pays shit because I don't think I can do anything else, I take pictures and then do nothing with them because I'm afraid of others' judgement, I make obligations and then dread them, I start projects and leave them half finished. 

I would insert a picture here, but that would be way too mortifying for me.

I have a box, actually I could fill a room with half finished crochet/ knitting/ sewing projects, long abandoned, accumulating dust with no hope of ever becoming what it started out as. I literally have a box filled with half or 3/4 completed bracelets. You know the ones, the stupid friendship bracelets made with embroidery floss that everyone has in the summer and "Oh my God! I'm never going to take it off because we're best of friends forever and ever and ever!!!" and then they're cut off well before the first day of school. Yeah. Those. I have probably 12 from years ranging 2000-last summer. All well thought out, none finished. 

I don't really know why. It's not like a 3 year old is going to judge me on my crocheting skills. Maybe I just get tired of it, I don't know. This one I totally don't get.

College. Dear college, hello Mr. C and D grades. I was glad for a C. I am smart, and I'm not just saying that to whatever, I mean, I am very smart. And I am very capable of doing well and getting good grades and being smart or something. (See what I did there was a little facetious.) But no, I was excited for that C and Bs would be shocking. I've been trying to figure that out for, oh I don't know, 21 years? I have always wanted my teachers/professors to like me. Maybe I don't believe I'm actually as smart as I think I am. I don't think that I'm as articulate on paper as I am in person and I've always been terrified that authority figures will think I'm an utter idiot. I once handed in a paper that I worked my ass off on. I handed it to my prof, she looked at it, made a face, crossed out a couple of paragraphs and then an entire page, and handed it back to me. She gave me a day extension. I went home and wept. I've never told anyone that. Well, there you go internet. 

The next semester I handed in an 8 page paper that was supposed to be no less than 15 pages for a professor that I knew was a stickler for page count. I got an A on the paper and had so many points taken off for length that I got a C and I didn't care. I acted like I didn't care. Did I actually care? Maybe. That professor was a douche. If it was for anyone else I would have cared more. 

Except I did mostly that exact thing for everyone. A/Bs on tests and always participated in class, then didn't hand in anything else. Because I knew it would suck. Because everything I do sucks. 

My job. I am a Nanny, and don't get me wrong, I love my job. I adore the kids I watch and I love doing it. Let me say that first. Now, seriously people, I am a nanny. My friends all have real jobs. Even Logie has a government job where she is responsible for kids' lives and safety. Politics, government, business,  public safety, law. I feel like all of my friends have real adult people jobs and I'm stuck here watching children for barely over minimum wage for an absurd amount of hours, and that's when I can find a job. I've been unemployed for so long that I would kill for crappy underemployment like last year. Who needs benefits? 401k's are for chumps. IRS tax withholdings? Psssht, lame. 

Why can't I get a real job? Why can't I get a job? I've had interviews and sent so many messages to families and resumes to businesses and heard nothing. Honestly it gets so very discouraging. 

At growth group this week we talked about doing things out of duty versus doing things out of love. I don't think I realized how discouraged I was with everything in my life until I was asked what call to service I have denied because I felt unqualified? It's not a call to service that I've denied. I feel it may be everything in my life I've denied because I feel unqualified. 

At what point in your life did you first feel the joy of serving God? And I have been struggling ever since to remember the last time I felt joy at all. I have feelings. I have all of the other feelings, I just can't remember the last time, or if ever, I have been joyous. Maybe I don't know what the word itself means.  

There's a lot of things that I don't know. For being a very smart person, there are simply a lot of things that I do not know and a lot of things that I do not want to acknowledge about myself. Psychoanalysts for another day, I suppose. 

Thanks for sticking with me (mostly Amanda). 

What Kind of Day Has it Been

I'm sure a lot of people are talking about the Tragedy at the Boston Marathon today. I would like to add my perspective to the group. I am only doing this because I have been deeply affected by this event and feel that I have a unique perspective.

First off, can we please call this what it is: a terrorist attack. I absolutely understand the aversion to this phrase because "terrorism" has a specific connotation in today's zeitgeist. However, the word "Terrorism" is an accurate descriptor of what occurred today. Let us examine the facts. The goal of terrorism is to promote terror. The explosive devices went off just after the 4 hour mark according to the official marathon clock. 4 hours and about 9 minutes to be exact. the average marathon finish time is 4 hours, according to Runner's World, whom I consider to be an authority on the subject.

That means that the most amount of people will be potential victims. the majority of people will be crossing the finish line at that time, which also means that the most amount of spectators will be waiting for them to finish, i.e. higher victim potential. And while the Boston Athletic Association (BAA) has start times in "waves" to control the running crowds, the runner and spectator numbers are at their peak at this point in the race. If the devices had gone off at 2 hours or really anything sub 3, those are elite runners, which draw crowds, but will have a limited casualty rate. And, I don't know if this is a factor, but many of the elite runners are from other countries, and it is a logical assumption that most of the runners in the about-4-hour range are Americans and their families as spectators.

Why is my perspective special? 

My mom and stepdad ran the marathon today. As did a couple of their friends that I know and several that I don't. And about 23,300 other people.

My Mom and Stepdad.

Take a minute and look at the TOD. TOD is the time of day in military time and "time" is their race or chip time that marks the exact time from when they cross the start to the finish, which will probably differ from official race time. I was on my way down to my dad's, but I waited to leave until I got a notification from the BAA iphone app that Joe had crossed the finish line because my mom had finished 10 minutes earlier. I updated my facebook post so our friends and family could see they finished, and then left for my dad's. That's when I got a text from a friend.

The bomb went off at 2:49pm.

I spent the next hour and a half trying desperately to get ahold of my mom and stepdad. The phone lines were jammed, and even if they weren't, neither carry phones when they run so I needed to wait patiently for them to get to their hotel and access their phones.

Patiently. Ha! My mom was in trouble. I called her about 50-60 times, and probably 10 of those went through, only for me to get kicked to voicemail. If you have ever known someone involved in a terrorist attack or any event like this, you know the stress and drama involved of just wanting to know they're okay. Just wanting to know some information. Something, anything.

So I had the news on at my dad's, searching the crowds for my mom. Trying to will the news to say what time it actually happened other than "just before 3pm" and trying to calculate the exact amount of time it takes to hand in your chip timer, get a medal, and walk away. Wondering if they would wait for another friend to finish, and having no idea. And I am so glad now that I didn't know the exact time.

Because If I had hear it was the exact same time Joe crossed the finish line I would have driven straight up to Boston. I have a friend of a friend's place lined up to stay in and HELL to traffic and everything else, my mom is there. I'm going. And I would have driven until I heard from her.

I did eventually get a call from my mother, at 4:21pm. Joe texted me, and I couldn't actually talk to her until 5:30 this evening. I am so thankful that my mom and Joe are both unharmed.

Then there's this guy:

This Guy

This guy who, by the way, is in the bottom righthand corner or right side of every bomb video being shown is my step-dad, Joe Curcio. The bomb was just ahead of the finish line that Joe crossed at TOD 3:49:52. Chip time 4:08:35

Joe is fine, When I was on the phone with Dolly, my mom, she mentioned that Joe was closer to the explosion and picked a small shard of glass out of his arm. She made sure to point out that it probably won't scar, and there wasn't even any blood. At which point I could hear Joe protesting in the background, "There's blood, look right here!" pointing to an apparently small dot where the shrapnel was. I could practically hear my mom rolling her eyes at his marathon injury. Give the guy a break. He got nearly blown up today. 

But seriously, a lot of people were for-reals hurt. Some were killed and seriously hurt or lost limbs. Some were children. And for the families that waited and waited for news and heard none, only to have their worst fears realized, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This was a terrifying, horrifying and harrowing day with many more to come for you. I wish that there was something I could do other than offer my condolences, prayers and the goodwill of all of the United States today and all days. I pray for strength, understanding, patience, and healing. 

What I hope comes out of this. 

I really truly hope that we remember not only those who were killed, hurt and affected by this tragedy, but also those who helped. Do me a favor. watch this video of the explosion. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Okay. The runners who could kept going, honestly, legit. Get away from the exploding around you. But then watch it again. Watch and pay close attention to those who run towards the bombs. They had NO idea if there would be more. They had NO idea what was happening. They ran towards the explosion.

Thank you.

Really, thank you.

There were race officials, EMTs, Nurses, Police, Bomb dogs, military personnel and volunteers that scrambled to adjust their race plan from dehydration and exhaustion patients to war-scene IED bloody trauma of runners and spectators.

There is a picture floating around facebook right now, it's a Mister Rogers quote.

Who doesn't love Mister Rogers? Communists.

"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'"

I can't stop thinking about the people who ran towards the bombs. That is my definition of Bravery. You are my heroes. You are the reason I keep my faith in humanity. You may not have saved the world, solved global warming, world hunger or cured disease, but you saved someone's world.

You give me faith that there are people in this world to combat the bad with good, not with guns and violence but with love and caring.

~Update, April 16, 2013~

There is one thing that I was thinking about all day and wanted to add to all of this. In the aftermath of this terrorist attack at the Boston Marathon, I want us to Rally. What do I mean by that? I want this weekends Marathons to continue as planned. London and Madrid have both confirmed their marathons will happen.

I want people to not be scared to leave their home, or go to a sporting event. Or Participate in sports. I want children to watch their parents cross a finish line without fearing for their lives.

And I want Boston to come back next year with a vengeance. I want the BAA to be utterly flooded with marathon applications, I want the BAA to be forced to allow more participants. I want the crowds at the start, the finish, and at Heartbreak Hill to be double than what they were this year. I want record-breaking.

In the West Wing episode Isaac and Ishmael, which was the first episode after September 11th attacks, Sam says to a group of high school students "It's 100% failure rate. Not only do terrorists always fail at what they're after, they pretty much always succeed in strengthening whatever it is they're against."

So that's what I want. I want unequivocal proof that whoever did this failed. Let's make it great.

Doctor Who Quotes

Season 5, The Pandorica Opens
The Doctor: They fall out of the world sometimes, but they always leave traces. Little things we can't quite account for, faces in photographs, luggage, half eaten meals, rings. Nothing is ever forgotten. Not completely. And if something can be remembered, it can come back.

Forgiveness

In tonights Growth Group we did a study of Dietrich Bonhöffer, and we talked a bit about forgiveness. From this, I decided that I have some work to do on forgiveness.

From Bonhöffer we learned that "When God was merciful to us, we learned to be merciful with our brethren  When we received forgiveness instead of judgement, we, too, were made ready to forgive our brethren. What God did to us, we then owed to others. The more we received, the more we were able to give."

First, a confession: I have been holding this anger against someone for two and a half years now, under the pretense that I'm waiting for an apology against something which, in all honesty, deserves one. But I've come to the realization that not only is that apology never going to come, but that I must find it in myself to forgive her regardless. So, Rachel, I understand that you were having a stressful day, and while that does not excuse poor behavior or ill-placed anger, it is forgivable. And I'm sorry for holding this against your character for so long when I should have let it go a long time ago. I forgive you.

Back to Bonhöffer. what I get from this now is that what we have, indeed, all we are, is what we received from God's Word in Jesus Christ. And that without Him, we would have no concept of forgiveness, mercy, and giving. He forgave all, He taught us forgiveness. He was Merciful to all, and taught us mercy. He gave all that He was and more, to teach us what it meant to give. Without God as an external force, and without each other, we can have no concept of these things. So now, the key is, I suppose, to forgive others, have mercy towards them, and give all that we can so that others may see His Grace through us.

That sounds like utter horseshit. But think about it- how did you learn to forgive? Not the silly "say you're sorry" that your mom makes you do and you know and they know that you don't mean it at all and you'd take that toy all over again if given the chance. Real forgiveness. When someone wronged you and you thought that this is it, the last straw, I'm done! but instead you forgave them? I can't think of the first time that happened in my life.

I can think of a few examples in the past few years when someone who is my friend, and a good friend, totally screwed me over. Like, again and again, without even acknowledgment. And I really had no choice but to forgive if I wanted to remain friends, which I very much did. It's been particularly difficult when someone knows you so well that they know exactly what to say to hurt you. But I think it's worse when things happen that the other person has no idea how hurtful they are being. Which is exactly when you just need to forgive without word. Simple forgiveness with no strings attached. What do you do when you want to forgive someone but it hurts to much or you're still upset? You forgive them anyway and the pain will be lifted.

That's a bloody lie. Your pain and hurt isn't automatically lifted. But it's a start. It's a lunching board off of which you can heal. I've forgiven people tonight, I may never tell them in person, but I know it in my heart and I can start the letting go.

We had some homework from Growth Group, and I may post some responses to that, probably not though.

Tiny whales and bows!!

So as you may know, and you probably don't unless you're a total stalker (Amanda...) I have almost all of my belongings in a 5x10 storage unit. Which is awesome unless you know, I need something. Sad for me. But I do have some crafty things even without my beloved Boot Box.
Today I was perusing some crochet patterns on the interweb and I found two beauties that I want to try out RIGHT RIGHT NOW. However I can't find any crochet hooks, my yarn scissors, and only one skein of yarn. Shit my life, right?
Searched my Jeep and, Oh wait- what's this? two hooks and 6 skeins of different colored yarns!!
TO MAKE!! First, there's these little guys:

Tiny Whales by Planet June

and how super cute are these bows?!?!

craftinessisnotoptional tutorial

And how lucky is this Lady? These two patterns call for different size hooks well, I found two crochet hooks. E for the whales and J for the bows! How perfect?

Also, Princess Bride is on TV.

The JFK 50: Don't worry, I didn't run it.

On November 17th, My mom and my step-dad Joe decided that they were CRAZY and wanted to run this fancy 50 mile race... again. So my friend Jamie and I were their Crew. 

Crew:

This involves meeting your runners on the race course at several pre-designated points and bringing them, well, whatever the hell they want. Food, drinks, gu, changes of clothes, socks, shoes, hat changes, whatever. So you meet your runners, give them whatever they bark at you and then make sure you know their pace and what time they will be at the next checkpoint and what they will want. If you don't find out what they will want at the next checkpoint, bring EVERYTHING. 

Oh! and we get t-shirts! 

So the night before the race, we got to Hagerstown, Maryland and checked into the hotel the 'rents would be staying in. Which happened to be the official Race Expo location. Perf.

Clarion- this place is only marginally better than the place that put ultramarathon runners in a smoking room.

Oh, except that their room faced the expo room and it was really loud, so we almost immediately bounced and met up with Jamie and Bébé Alex... at the outlets!! (What? me, shopping? Noooooo...) After Jamie and I grabbed a quick geocache in the outlet parking lot, we all went to dinner together. 

So post-dinner, I spent the night at Zac and Jamie's and we decided to surprise Mom and Joe with support signs. Oh yeah, just like the ones you've seen on the internet, but better.

Race Day:

Our first course meet- up is Weverton Cliffs- 15.0 miles which is immediately after they get off the Appalachian Trail. Parking there is a bitch. But don't worry, Jamie and I survived our 3 block hike to the trail.

This is where we parked.

For this, our first meet-up, the signs we chose were a couple of classics:

Run like you stole something

Toenails are overrated!

That second one may not seem like a "classic" but if you know an ultra runner (that's when being a marathon runner isn't intense enough) then I'm betting you're gonna think that second one's really funny. 

Then we hit Antietam- 27.1 miles well, we hit a geocache or two and then got to Antietam. Yes, that Antietam, where the infamous battle in the civil war was fought. No, we didn't do anything interesting or historical. We did, however, stop at a gas station for food and coffee. There was no food. I mean, none. they had potato chips and not much of a selection, and slim jims. That's when the gas station guy and lady pointed out to us the bin of homemade doughnuts for like $0.75 each. there were two left, Done deal. I may have dropped one on the ground and then still ate it and DAMN it was goooood. We were really quite hungry and  it was totally worth it.

Run like a Kenyan... being chased by Killer Bees!

Run like a Kenyan, This is so overused it's ridiculous. There are t-shirts that say this. Every marathon runner has seen a sign with this or something similar to it. So we wanted to add something to really give it something special. Killer Bees!

The stick figure Kenyan is saying "I'm faster than you!"
Quick! History Quiz!! 

Q: Who knows where Marathons started? 

A: The name Marathon comes from the legend of Pheidippides, a Greek messenger. The legend states that he was sent from the Battle of Marathon (in Marathon) to Athens to announce that the Persians had been defeated. It is said that he ran the entire 25 mile distance without stopping and burst into the assembly, exclaiming "We won!" and then dropped dead. In all fairness, this guy just was fighting in a battle and then they made him book it to Athens. Did they not have a page or someone that could do that? I guess not. Oh, and all of this happened in 490 BC.

When they started the modern olympics in 1896 they didn't have a set distance, they went back and forth between running almost 25 mi and over 26.5. 

So why is it now 26.2 miles? because some asses in the International Olympic Committee agreed in 1907 that the distance for the 1908 London Olympic marathon would be about 25 miles, the standard at the time if there was one. The organizers decided on a course of 26 miles from the start at Windsor Castle to the royal entrance to the White City Stadium, followed by a partial lap of the track, 385 yards, finishing in front of the Royal Box and that distance kind of just stuck.

But I digress.

Antietam- 27.1. 

With this new knowledge, 

Pheidippides was Dead by now

Pheidippides was dead by now is Hilarious when you know that those people running past us at mile 27 have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what the hell that sign means. We originally weren't going to make the Pheidippides sign, but Jamie convinced me that for that one guy who gets it, it will make his race. So we did, and wouldn't you know it, we were at that checkpoint for less than 5 minutes when the only runner other than my mom who got that sign pointed at it and yelled, "Yes!" 

Totally worth it.Also at Antietam, in the parking lot we saw this car: 

JFK 50 Car

That guy has to be intense. 

From there, we made our way into Antietam's town center. We were a'searchin' for some eats. We stopped at what seemed to be the only restaurant/bar open in the town and they were packed. I mean, like woah. We waited for a table and practically attacked a couple as they left, then before we even saw a waitress we had to leave because we were afraid that we would miss Mom and Joe at mile 38. So we got some advice from some locals and stopped at a deli down the road and grabbed some quick eats and a 6-pack. Remember, we were super hungry and all we'd had to eat was gas station doughnuts.

Then off to Taylor's Landing Aid Station- 38.1 miles where our adventure really starts.

For next time, friends, for next time.