My favorites.

Hey, so how about we depart from the normal gloomy, whiney reflections about my life and do something way more fun?  Let's take a look at some of my favorite things!

I promise to get back to the deep stuff soon though.

Rodan and Fields!  I love this stuff.  It's the best skincare I've ever used.  A little pricey but it lasts for months and really delivers what it promises.  I think I actually save money in the long run because I don't wear foundation and I don't spend money on the latest skincare trend anymore either.  

I'm usually a Tide girl, though I will admit to bouts of making my own laundry detergent before.  Persil wins in the end.  It even gets rid of the sock funk from Jack's work socks.  And no one has broken out in a rash from it either, which happens regularly with my sensitive-skinned spawn.

WTF weather app.  This is the funniest app on my phone.  You can moderate the language if you choose.

Down Dog yoga app.  I use this yoga app several times each week.  You can choose your level of yoga-ness, length of time for the workout, and type of practice.  And it's free!

These are the greatest hair products that I have ever used.  And having done hair for a gazillion years I'm pretty sure I've used almost everything on the market so I am definitely qualified to make this claim.  My hair is fine, curly and frizzy, and color-treated and it still feels soft and healthy when I use this.  A little goes a loooonnnnggg way so my travel-sized bottles last forever.  

I had never shopped at Kohl's until a few months ago.  It's a great store!  I'm not much of a shopper really (unless you count Goodwill) but I have found some excellent deals and cute stuff at Kohl's.  And that Kohl's cash?!  Well, it's awesome.

This is the herd share where I buy my milk.  Wonderful family and wonderful milk.  This is definitely worth the price!

Great recipes and beautiful photos.  And, I know the people who created this site!  I have not tried one recipe that I have not loved.  Even the paleo treats are excellent.  Visit Justin and Erica for some healthy eating inspiration.

I love my Vitamix.  I bought reconditioned off the Vitamix website and received the same warranty as if buying a new one.  I use this appliance more than anything else in my kitchen (except maybe my tea kettle).  Salsa, graham cracker crumbs, grinding spices, smoothies, milkshakes, margaritas, sorbet, the list is endless!  Buy one of these!

The Game.

*This was written for the boys and coaches and parents who were part of the MCGRA 7th/8th JBO team at the end of their 2017 season*

For those of you (are there any who are reading this?) who didn’t know Bill, let me just tell you that he loved baseball.  He loved it more than most people because I suppose he understood it better than most people.  He would speak about the magic of baseball and until now I guess I didn’t exactly understand what he was talking about.  

Let me try to explain what I mean.

The magic of the game is not tied to the superstitions of the game.  Things like wearing the same pair of socks during a winning streak or jumping over the baseline when taking the field instead of stepping  directly on it.  Or maybe walking onto the pitcher’s mound with the same foot with each approach.  It's not even with the elaborate rituals a batter goes through when steps up to the plate.  Superstitions and habits are not magic.

It’s not about the constancy of the positions regardless of the age or the team either.  No, second baseman aren’t always “failed” shortstops.  Closing pitchers are not always a little crazy.  Right fielders don’t always watch the clouds to find pictures in them instead of paying attention to the game.  First basemen aren’t always the coach’s kid who can’t play anywhere else nor are they always fat.  Oh, I think there’s a little truth to most of it but it’s definitely not magical.

I think what Bill meant was that there is something magical about the game itself, the subtleties and nuances of the game.  The way a field looks when it’s freshly mowed and the infield is drug until it’s smooth as silk.  It’s in the moment when the lights are switched on and a game suddenly becomes a night game.  It’s also in the moment when the dust settles and you can finally see whether the runner is safe on the bag or not.  In a perfectly executed double play or a bunt that is laid out right along the third base line.  The magic is in the smells and sounds of the game:  The sound of the ball hitting the bat (sometimes on the handle even!) or the way the leather of a glove sounds when a ball is caught.  The smell of dirt and grass and seeds.  

That’s what he meant, I think.  And he was right.

But I have come to think of it a little bit differently.  I think the magic of the game lies in the community created by those involved.  The players, the parents, the spectators, even the umpires.  The magic is that everyone, regardless of height, weight, age, color, sex, level of education or intelligence, socio-economic status, whatever, can gather to essentially become one crazy, diverse, extraordinary family.  

That’s my take on it.  There lies the magic.

Bill endeavored to teach kids enough about the game that they, in turn, could perpetuate their love of it to the next generation.  “It’s a simple game,” he’d say, “you only have to throw a ball and catch a ball.”  I’m certain that he would be proud of this team and he would feel relief that his influence and instruction would not return empty.  His legacy will live on every time one of these boys shares their love of the game with someone else.  More magic.

He’d also say that JD was safe on third.

A Lesson I've Learned. Or a Truth I've Accidentally Discovered.

I had a conversation with myself while running on the treadmill the other day that was prodigious.  (That's just a big word for eye-opening. I liked the sound of it.)  It's not unusual for me to talk to myself while running or doing anything else in all honesty.  But I seem to have much more clarity in my thoughts when I am in the throws of running and this was one of those moments when I finally understood something that I'd been pondering for a good while.

Here's what I discovered:  I'm no good at people.

I like people and everything, or at least most people, but I'm not so good at understanding them.  I figured out that I expect others to have similar thought processes and intentions as I do.  I believe that people are simple and straightforward and don't play games.

I believe this and that's my problem.

But how come I can believe so easily?

And that's when I realized the answer to my question.  It's because of my relationship with Bill.  I was so young (and had not learned to be cynical and suspicious) when we met.  I never had to mess with typical relationship crap.  Oh sure, there were times of teenage drama.  And there were times before we were married that we dipped our toes into that back and forth stuff.  Gosh though, it was so small-scale and silly that I never "learned a lesson" about relationships from it.  I was never seriously hurt by any of it.  Consequently I carry no suitcase loaded with emotional baggage around with me.

Naive?  Possibly.  But more like simple, honest, and uncomplicated.

You see, Bill was my best friend.  When I first met him we would spend hours just talking.  And fishing.  Always fishing and talking.  Even after all the years and the kids and the rough parts of life that we experienced we could still spend hours talking.  He was my favorite person and I know I was his.  I would talk to him multiple times throughout every day.  He was the person I never hesitated to call to complain or celebrate or cry to.  Naturally this went both ways as I was always, always ready to hear what he wanted to say.  We had no ulterior motives or methods of manipulation in our intent.  Nope.  We just really liked each other.

And that is why I assume everyone else lives this way.

I am learning that most people have been hurt and betrayed by some person or situation and cannot let their guard down anymore.  Where there was once trust and openness has now been replaced with reservation and suspicion.  And often times I'm seeing that those betrayals cause us to adopt self-sabotaging behaviors too.  Maybe the hurt makes us feel like we're never going to be enough?  Or that we don't deserve something better?  Either way, we end up packing our bags with sadness and padding it all with a whole lot of self-preservation.

I'm not sure that there is a solution to this.  We all have to carry different bags filled with different burdens through the wanderings of our lives.  Some people get fancy, flashy bags that hold glittery problems while others get plastic Walmart bags filled with garbage.  Some carry veritable trunks filled with all different kinds of troubles, both big and small.  Personally, I like to think that the people who we find (or who find us!) are put on our paths to help us carry the load.  So maybe that is the solution:  we can only be relieved of our burdens when we trust another to share the weight.  Each time we relinquish an item from our bag our life becomes a little brighter, a bit less oppressive.

But to trust enough to allow such a thing, well....  that's a hard one to conquer.