Because he just felt like running.

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When grieving your brother’s death turns into ritualistic and therapeutic morning walks with the dog, which turn to once-a-week jogs with the dog, which then turn to increasingly lengthy runs, which turn into a couple recreational 3Ks, then a 9 miler across the beach, then a marathon through the redwoods, then a 30K trail run, then a 50K trail run on the “Trail Through Time”, then back to a 30K because, well – you know, no one likes a show off.

I am amazed at how easy it has been for him. He has a natural athletic ability and motivation to not only push himself physically, but also has stepped outside his social comfort zone to make genuine and honest connections with this rich and supportive community of runners.

Way to go, babe.

Mt Tam 30K
Weaver Basin 50K
Golden Gate 30K
Visalia Emergency Aid 5K

Forrest

Shop Girl

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On Thursday, April 5th, after 12 diligent years of service, I gave my notice at HSU. On Friday, April 6th, with little more than a wing and a prayer, I signed on to assist in the resurrection and future management of a landmark Arcata retail store. And just like that, my life, my family, my friendships, my entire being catapulted into outer space.

Isn’t it funny how life works? One minute you hang the Holstee manifesto on your dining room wall. The next thing you know, you’re living it.

We opened PLAZA‘s doors on May 11th, held the obligatory ribbon cutting ceremony in late June, and never looked back. That’s the way it works in retail. You only look forward – very far forward. Which is why I began placing orders for Christmas cards….in June.

Lest you think I am crazy, well, maybe I am. However, I feel it is important to point out that Steve played no small role as my accomplice to crazy. On the night I got the phone call from Sarah telling me the plan – and the potential role I might play in it – I listened with my usual pragmatism. Wow, what an exciting and fun prospect! But I have a great job. Sensible. A job in that great world of higher ed. A job that is noble and important and connects me to the core of our greater selves as life-long learners. And I get July off! Great benefits! Union protections! And there standing next to me the entire time was my sweet and devoted husband steadfastly telling me that if I didn’t do this, I would regret it forever. And so, after days of hand-wringing and evaluating and deciding whether to follow the passion of my heart or the rational machinations of my brain, I mouthed two words that irrevocably changed everything: I’m in.

And here I am, almost 6 months later. No regrets, no what-if’s, no more July off. Who goes into retail at 40? Apparently, me.

It has been exhausting and crazy and overwhelming and fun. I have had endless support and encouragement from Steve and the kids, as well as every single other person who has listened to this story and extended their time, support and encouragement. Even with the long hours and random days off, neither Steve nor the kids have ever once lamented the complete and total upturning of their lives – which is an important point considering Steve has become the stay-at-home-dad that doesn’t stay home. He teaches a full day, then shoots off to round up kids and get dinner going. Often interspersed with that, is a tag-team routine we have intricately coordinated to manage pick-up or drop-off at birthday parties, soccer practices, dance and karate. So far, no one has been forgotten and left sitting on the curb….yet. Steve has thoroughly enjoyed reminding me of the fact that his new role frequently has him hanging out, sipping white wine and gossiping with the other moms. Essentially, he has become the Michael Keaton to my Teri Garr, which has created no end of hilarious jokes and references to Steve’s acceptance as just one of the other moms.

And so. I sit here staring down the barrel of my first holiday season of tending 4000 square feet of retail space, and can only imagine the chaos that awaits me over the next months. To which I can only say: This is your life, do what you love and do it often. I am.

My Friends: Andrea

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Last Saturday Andrea turned 40. [Giggle Giggle. Tee hee.] I, on the other hand, am maintaining my youthful 39-and-9-month glow. Bask in it. Go ahead.

If I were to guess, I’d say we all have an Andrea in our lives. You know, that friend who is that quiet kind of smart that makes you realize that you are always about 6 steps behind. She’s a scientist, she’s a web-designer, she’s a knitter, a dog trainer, and an all around awesome-ologist. She has that enviable combo of smart, talent and unassuming demeanor that keeps you humble. I kind of pretty much like totally adore her.

The original birthday plan was set to go down in the Big Easy for a right proper celebration, but life intervened (as it inevitably will) – and after a quick, covert change of plans, Jodie and I decided the show must go on. So we – along with her sister Stacy – decided to descend upon North Carolina for a grand ol’ 40th birthday surprise.

And so began the extravaganza.

Brian was instrumental in helping us secure a beach-side location just up the road from their house, as well as acting as our airport shuttle and overall logistics man. Plus, he willingly hung out with 4 women over the course of 6 days, which is an award ceremony entirely unto itself. He endured a relentless, estrogen-laden conversation loop including (but not limited to) boobs, babies, parenting, periods, sex, husbands and family drama. Thanks Bri, you definitely earned your merit badge on this one.

As for the rest, well some of that has to be kept confidential (as is written into our by-laws), but I think it was fair to say that we used up all of our words, cashed in all of our drinking points, and laughed in the deep and satisfying way one does when surrounded by great friends.

Happy birthday, Andrea. Here’s to you, our friendship, and the great addition you have made to my life.

Andrea
(click photo to see the entire, gory set)

Signs that your kids are watching too much Mythbusters.

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It all began when I overheard the following statement: “Okay Porter, now don’t scream when I do this.”

Watching Porter’s front teeth twist and turn over the last weeks has been an infinite source of family entertainment. He has been guaranteed that at least one of us throughout the course of the day will walk up to him and ask, “hasn’t one of those teeth fallen out YET?” Myself included – which you think I’d be a little more sensitive about considering I was asked “haven’t had that baby YET?!” about 600 bazillion times with both of my insanely overdue pregnancies. But I digress.

So ANYWAYS, teeth. Loose. Insanely loose and crooked. There were days when I would look in the rear-view mirror of the car and see my son’s face with a single tooth resting atop his lower lip. Kinda like this (but in place of the bird is his nasty smelling blanket):

nanny mcphee

I tried to do some documenting the evolution of this process on my own:

Billy Bob Teeth

Billy Bob Teeth

4 front teeth simultaneously loose. New name: Billy-Bob. Trans-Am & mullet wig arrive on Tuesday.

Flash forward to yesterday.

Stella had finally reached her limit. Action needed to be taken. And big sisters can be very persuasive. Her plan involved one packet of purple embroidery thread from her friendship bracelet kit, one remote control all-terrain vehicle, and a whole lot of trial and error. Once she had successfully a.) gotten Porter’s buy-in, b.) figured out how to successfully attach the string to the tooth and the remote control car, and c.) gunned the car with just the right amount of slack in the line, she achieved her goal:

The Great Front-Tooth Extraction

I still laugh each and every time I look at this photo. The blood. The look of victory on Stella’s face. The look of I-Don’t-Know-How-She-Convinced-Me-This-Was-A-Good-Idea on Porter’s face. It pretty much tells the entire story all by itself.