#MicroblogMonday – I’m a runner, I guess

Until recently I completely forgot that I ran Track in my freshman year of high school. I must have been the slowest person on the team. I sucked! And I have no idea why I ever did it.

However, almost a year ago, parkrun started in my hometown. I ran 3 events near the start of it all, early November last year, and then didn’t run again until February of this year. I don’t know what changed during those 2-ish months break, but I am now hooked!

Those first runs… The very first parkrun was totally new and exciting. The second, third, fifth run…I remember starting out and thinking “what the f— have I gotten myself into”. But as soon as I crossed the finish line, the feeling was amazing. And then the running became a bit easier, I even made a new personal best! I found friendship, friends and a place where I felt like I belonged (I’ve been missing that a lot the last few years.) These days, I truly look forward to my weekly run.

This next weekend I am going to run my 25th parkrun! And I have no doubt that I’ll easily make 50 runs before our parkrun turns 2 years old (in just over another year).

MicroblogMonday For more microposts, go visit Mel’s post at Stirrup Queens.

Blast from the past: Cabbage Patch Kids


These are my Cabbage Patch kids! There are many emotions tied to them.

My dad climbed into the attic and dug them out for me. I’m so excited to see them and know that they are in great condition. I always knew they were there, but I never really had any need of them until my Tadbit came along and loves dollies (and Lightning McQueen, Olfa, Anna, Elsa, cats, cows, etc). I can’t wait until we go to the US next year.

Charlie Caleb is on the left. His name was Charlie Randy, but I didn’t like how it sounded with my last name, so I sent in his birth certificate to get it officially changed. Charlie is fe-male. It depended on my mood and what I dressed them/it up in. Those are it’s original clothes (and shoes I think).

Heidi was made by my mom. I didn’t appreciate her (the doll and my  mom) enough when I was younger, but my heart aches with love now at how much my mom loved me.

#MicroblogMonday – Remembering

Thanksgiving is this Thursday. Some years, it sneaks up on me and others I am very much aware of it. It’s what happens when a holiday isn’t celebrated where you live (and you’ve been away from country for the holiday for most of 17 years). I think this year it has mostly sneaked* up on me. I mean, I knew Thanksgiving was coming, but I didn’t really start feeling it until just the other day and especially last night.

The night before Thanksgiving is when my grandma died. I was 14. I had wanted to stay the night at a friend’s house that night, but my mom wouldn’t let me. But that next morning she said I could go to my friends. I thought it strange, but being 14, I didn’t think about it much further. Until that evening after the Thanksgiving festivities had ended and my mom told us the news. We ended up leaving to my grandparents house the next day.

I remember that I didn’t have my school work with me. We were reading Great Expectations in English class. I remember Perrin (4 years older than me) taking me and my siblings to a truck stop for hot chocolate while we were in my grandparents’ hometown. He had taught me how to play pool that summer. And I had a huge 14 year old girl crush on him. (It would never ever be anything more, because he was a proper Mormon boy.) I remember seeing my grandmother in her open casket. It was her, but it wasn’t. It was also the first (and only?) time I’ve seen a dead person. I remember the dress I wore to the funeral: the same turquoise dress I wore to my 8th grade dance. (My grandmother wouldn’t have wanted me to be sad and wear black my mom told me.) I remember the last conversation I had with my grandma. She was telling me that she might get her ears pierced.

I remember.

 

*Sneaked is a correct past tense form of snuck, I googled it.

MicroblogMonday For more microposts, go visit Mel’s post at Stirrup Queens.

Debbie Gibson’s Electric Youth perfume

A couple of weeks ago, a co-worker and I were discussing smells. Particularly, perfumes. I said how I used to be able to wear perfume and essential oils, but these days I have become like my mom and I am extremely sensitive to smells. Many perfumes, hand lotions and fragrances actually make me ill if I have to be around them. I get a runny nose, headache, itchy-fevery eyes, which just makes for an over all yuck feeling. I have had to ask Christmas flowers to be taken out of the office and co-workers to not use a certain hand lotions or perfumes. I feel bad asking this, but if I don’t I feel physically ill.

All of this led me to remember Debbie Gibson’s Electric Youth perfume that I got for Christmas one year. (Anyone else?) I loved that perfume! At least I think I loved it. Or maybe it was that my friends also had it and it was popular at the time. I grew out of it and I think I ended up tossing the last bit of it out. Years later, my mom reminded me of my love for it and how she couldn’t stand it. To her, it smelled like cat piss. Thanks mom! I’m thankful she didn’t tell me that at the time, I know I wouldn’t have handled it well.

Did you ever have Electric Youth or some other celebrity’s perfume?

MicroblogMonday For more microposts, go visit Mel’s post at Stirrup Queens.

#MicroblogMonday – Glass works again

And I forgot to blog again last night.

Yesterday late afternoon I went to check out a glass club. They do Tiffany style work (stained glass windows, lamps), fused glass (pieces melted together) and even mosaics (bits glued onto something in a pattern). I am so excited to become a part of this club and to get back into making glass stuff.

I made my first stained glass pieces back in high school over twenty years ago. I made some roses, a pen holder, a mandala window piece and a combined mirror/glass window piece. In more recent years (still over 5 years ago), I made an angel, butterflies for a mobile and then a bunch of fused glass jewelry.

The possibilities are endless and ideas are flowing, it’s only a matter of choosing what I want to do first.

MicroblogMonday For more microposts, go visit Mel’s post at Stirrup Queens.