Things That Make Me Smile

Watching a newborn baby sleeping peacefully on her daddy's chest in church.

The way that baby's grandpa couldn't take his eyes off his first grandchild throughout the entire service.

Papa T. singing "I Love To Tell The Story" even though he can't see the large print songbook. The fact that he knows all of the old hymns by heart.

Sunny 73 degree weather on the second day of March.

Riding a big old clunky bicycle on a warm sunny day and putting my feet on the handlebars while the wind whips through my hair.

They way my dieting Hubby went from surly to bubbly with just one cheeseburger.

Daffodils waking up in the backyard and stretching themselves in the sun.

Laughing and telling stories on the front porch with my family.

A bowl of homemade soup and a plate of apple crisp.

Especially sunny 73 degree weather on the second day of March.

Oh, What a Wonderful Day

What a difference a couple of days makes when it comes to weather in Kentucky. Earlier this week it was windy and cold. Today it was unseasonably warm, sunny and beautiful. I went from being a cranky old whiner to a bubbly energetic fool. A taste of spring does my soul wonders.

I've had a great day. I ran a large stretch of the Trail run course today. Let's just say I'll probably do a lot of praying during the race. I managed okay today, but the full course will obviously kick my butt plenty. These were some of the hardest miles I've ever run. It didn't help that I had to pee most of the time. I was afraid to slip behind a tree because every time I thought the coast was clear, up popped a runner or biker. Thank goodness for that concrete retaining wall sitting just off the trail. I left feeling pretty good because today's run made me familiar with the course and helped me get my mind right about the race.

I drove my little red coupe. That made me feel good, especially since I got to open the sun roof. Then I came home to find a wonderful surprise. Janjanmom had returned the dishes I used to fix her dinner this week and tucked inside was a daffodil covered thank you note AND a bag of Circus Peanuts AND SweeTarts. You know how I love a good fresh Circus Peanut or a SweeTart. Yippy Skippy! How lucky can a girl get? Thanks Janjanmom. You know me well.

To top off the day I was doodling around at margaritaville.com looking for tour dates for Jimmy Buffett when I found the most fabulous, magnificent, stupendous things. How perfect are these?

Flip flops with Hula Girls! Pinch me, 'cause I think I'm dreaming. Two of my favorite things rolled into one delicious shoe. The only problem is deciding between the white and the pink.

Or the ones with margaritas.

Or palm trees.

What do you think? I think I like the hula girls best. Come on Spring! Mama needs new shoes. Ah, I love a perfect day.

Long And Lasting Love

Love is in the air in the Hula family. My middle brother is getting married in a couple of weeks. This is the second marriage for him and his fiancé, so they don’t want a big wedding. It will be simple but special, kind of like Mama and Daddy’s wedding 45 years ago. A month from now my parents will celebrate their 45th wedding anniversary. They don’t have any big plans for marking the occasion, but perhaps we can fix that. It’s certainly worth celebrating.

As I was digging around in old photos this past week, I found this one. I love this picture.

It captures their relationship, then and now, perfectly. For as long as they’ve been together, Daddy has been laughing and teasing Mama, and Mama has been rolling her eyes at him. Sometimes the roll is accompanied by an elbow to the ribs or a light smack on his arm. She probably rolls her eyes at him more than Teen Angel rolls hers at me, and that’s saying a lot. They are quite the pair, kind of opposite, but quite alike.

They’ve weathered a lot over the years and have really been perfect partners for each other. As a kid growing up, I thought everyone came from the same Beaver Clever kind of family I did. Mama didn’t wear dresses and pumps around the house, but she stayed at home with us kids, shuttled us to school functions, clapped at our musicals and held an office in the PTO. Daddy was the breadwinner, working swing shift but squeezing in time for each of us in between fixing our cars and mowing the yard. We ate dinner together and took summer vacations. I saw my parents bicker but never saw them argue. They never made financial decisions without discussing them. They showed each other affection and always treated each other with respect. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized how rare and special that was.

In their silver years, they still treat each other with respect, still laugh at their mistakes and still take vacations together. They have very part time jobs to give themselves a few hours away from each other during the week but enjoy each other’s company the rest of the time. He makes her laugh, and she loves to laugh. Daddy is still teasing Mama, and there are days when she wants to throttle him, but she usually just rolls her eyes, makes some kind of half-hearted attempt at trying to keep him in line and moves on. As I watch their marriage and mine mature, I am struck by how much marriage is really about taking care of each other. I was backing out of the driveway the other morning when Hubby flagged me down to bring me my gloves. Earlier I had scratched his back. Taking care of each other. That’s what it’s all about. The romance is still there, but it flickers and smolders more than it flames. That’s okay. It’s really just a part of the whole equation. Super Cop is still in that white hot flaming part of his relationship. I wish him a world of happiness with this marriage, but most of all, I’m glad he has someone to take care of…and someone to take care of him. We all need that, especially in our Harvest Moon years.

Is it April Yet?

OKAY, IF I DON'T WAKE UP TO SOME SUNSHINE AND A LITTLE WARMTH SOON, MY HEAD IS GONNA POP OFF MY SHOULDERS! I AM FED UP WITH THIS COLD, WINDY CRAP. IS SPRING HERE YET, BECAUSE I'M SO OVER WINTER. I WANT TO SEE DAFFODILS! I WANT TO SMELL NEW, WET GRASS!! I WANT TO SEE THE EASTER BUNNY. I'M TELLIN' YA', I WANT SOME SUN AND 50 DEGREES, AND I WANT IT RIGHT NOW!!!

Alrighty, that's out of my system.

My New Favorite Number

Well, there’s no backing out now. I sent in my registration for the Trail Run. Can you believe I’d pay $65 to torture myself? I don’t want to think about the amount of crazy in that decision. I bought the shoes (another $100) and have been breaking them in, and I blogged about it, so I’m committed right? The race is March 8th, and as that day inches closer, it’s all I can think about as I go about my daily business.

14.25 miles. I hear it in my ears. It pops up in my dreams. I think about it when I’m driving down the road and singing along with Fergie. 14. 25 miles. It bounces around in my brain when I’m taking a shower, cooking dinner and ironing clothes. 14.25 miles…..over dirt paths…up and down hills…dodging puddles and jumping over roots and rocks. March in Kentucky is unpredictable. It could be warm. It could snow. It could be wet and cool. It will definitely be muddy, and I will definitely get dirty. This is what one guy looked like when he finished two years ago.

Hmmm. I guess I shouldn’t count on my white shoes staying white. I’m trying not to be nervous about this thing, but I really am. I’ve thought about it so much that I’m ready to tackle it and get it over.…all 14.25 miles. Fourteen miles is nothing to a serious runner, but remember, I’m a pokey, 40-something woman who never ran for anything other than Italian Crème Cake until a year ago. I won’t be winning any medals next weekend. This race is all about beating myself.

Since I’m a Trail Run virgin I’ve tried to set realistic goals. Most importantly, I don’t want to fall and hurt myself. I’ve already taken one tumble this past year. I don’t need another. Besides, there are two to three miles between every aid station. That’s a long way to hobble. I want to run as much of the race as I can. I want to finish and to cross the finish line running. I’m guessing it will take me about three hours, but I’m not going to worry about time….much….I don’t think. At the end of the day I just want to be able to say that I ran my first half marathon…all 14.25 stinkin’ miles.

The other thing I’m looking forward to is being exposed to some seriously strong runners. This race also has a full marathon (26 miles), a 60K (36 miles) and a 50 mile run. 50 miles. That’s right. 50 miles. It will take them anywhere from seven to eleven hours to finish. I can’t imagine. I want to imagine, but I can’t. Therefore, I shall watch, and hopefully, get a little inspiration for the season. Oh, and did I mention that the average age of the runners is 42 years old? How about that? This race is for mature folks, most of who are like me, running from old age. Old age…the other thing that runs through my mind almost as much as that 14.25 miles.

Hillybilly Style

As much time as I spend defending the image of Kentuckians and refuting our reputation for being a big bunch of toothless rednecks, I have to admit we have more than our fair share of hillbilly attitude about clothing and teeth in this part of the country. I’ve just read that Kentucky ranks 2nd in the nation behind West Virginia in adults over 65 who have had all of their teeth pulled, and 37% of Kentuckians are missing at least six teeth. Add that to our love for camouflage, and there are days when I scratch my head and wonder what some of my fellow Kentuckians were thinking when they got dressed that morning. To boost our image, I’m proposing the following fashion guidelines for my fellow rednecks when visiting Wal-Mart or running around town.

1. Winter camo should be worn after Memorial Day but not after Easter. If the snow is on the ground, wear the brown.

2. False teeth should be worn EVERY time you leave the house, not just on special occasions such as the Ducks Unlimited banquet.

3. If you must wear flip-flops in the winter, choose subdued colors such as brown or black that are more likely to match your winter coat. Again, if the snow is on the ground…..

4. House shoes should be worn only in the house. They are not acceptable footwear for trips to the Piggly Wiggly, the Dollar Store or Pancake Days at IHOP.

5. Scrubs are not considered formal wear and should be avoided unless you really work in the medical field.

6. Nail art should be limited to two acrylic nails at any given time. It shouldn’t be worn at all if your nails are longer than 1 inch and painted Cha-Ching Cherry red.

7. Mud and animal excrement should be removed from boots (this means you too, ladies) before entering a place of business.

8. U.K. attire should be limited to no more than three articles at any given time. As Coco Chanel said, when you are finished dressing, take off your last accessory, and you will be just right.

9. And remember, your best accessory is a toothbrush.

Time After Time

Time is important. It’s a precious commodity that we hoard, stretch, waste and pilfer. The older I get the more precious it becomes and the more I start to realize how much of it I frittered away in my youth. It bothers me if I think about it too long.

There are all kinds of statistics about how we use our time. For instance, we spend roughly one third of our lives sleeping. I think that’s a little inaccurate for women since we tend to be the first ones up and the last ones to bed in any given household. We’re not as good as men at napping either. There are statistics about the time we spend eating, working and driving. And facts on how much time we use reading, watching TV and being intimate with each other. Those are all interesting, but they don’t really address the burning questions I have. I want to know about the stuff that is wasting my time. Stuff that is wasting away extra minutes I could put to use visiting the Eiffel Tower, swimming in the Caribbean or advising the President. It all adds up folks, and it matters more and more to me as the sand in my hourglass starts to get a little thin. I’ve given this some thought, and here are the estimates I’ve developed. Just don’t ask me about my scientific methods.

1. Trying on clothes that don’t fit-23 hours in the last year alone.

2. Sitting in traffic next to someone playing really loud, obnoxious music-1.5 days, all in thirty second intervals. The up side is that I can name the top three gangsta’ rap songs at any given time of the year.

3. Holding the end of a leash while the dog decides where he’s going to poop-56 hours over the course of the last six years.

4. Waiting on a doctor who is so overbooked that he’s way behind schedule-8.6 days or in other words, too freakin’ long!

5. Searching for my keys and/or cell phone-a mind numbing 12.2 hours because I’m too stupid to put them in the same place every day.

6. Wading through voicemail in search of a real human who can help me with a billing/insurance/financial question-16 years if you count that time J.C. Penney’s screwed up a charge on my credit card, and it took three months and two rounds of anger management classes to resolve.

7. Cooling my heels in the driveway waiting on Teen Angel to finish getting ready-2 hours per day multiplied by seven days a week divided by the number of matching accessories and multiplied by the number of times I have to honk my horn minus the amount of times she will roll her eyes at me…or roughly 7.2 days per year.

8. Watching America’s Most Wanted and Cops because they are Hubby’s favorite shows-2.4 looooong years. I hum “Bad Boys” in my sleep.

9. Driving Mama J. back and forth to the beauty shop-30 hours per year, all on Saturday mornings. Add a little extra beauty shop time for funerals that pop up in the middle of the week. Some people have the nerve to die on Tuesdays and Wednesdays when her hairdo is a little ragged.

10. Piddling on the internet-Well, look. I have to go. I’ll come back to this one later. After I’ve surfed the new Spring collection at Newport News and scanned TicketMaster for summer concerts. I’d like to stay, really I would, but I don’t have the time.