They inspire me

Today has been one of those days.  People are being horrible to one another, without full knowledge, without understanding, without tolerance.  Glass houses are being shattered without thought, without care about emotions, without facts.

This all scares me.  Worse, this makes me sad.

I am a passionate person, so things effect me more than they should and I acknowledge that.  I lean towards the dramatic, it is what it is.  I could apologize for it, but I can't change it as that would be changing who I am!

Today I was sad, I was worried, I was drained actually, then I went outside to get my mail.  That is when God reminded me how great our country is.  In my cul-de-sac the kids were playing life sized PacMan.  The girls and boys played together; the preteens and the elementary school kids; the Christians and the Muslims.  When they noticed me, one of the girls ran over and sat with me and the dogs and talked about her day, talked about how excited she was as her brother had a concert at school.  Her eyes were sparkling, she was so excited to support her family.  Then the other kids noticed the dogs and gave me a huge group hug before chasing their furry friends around.  It was at that point that the two little girls told me they thought my tree was inspirational.  Why?  Because the tree had to be chopped down quite drastically because half of it had fallen in the yard.  Well now, on top of the cut thick limbs, little green leaves have started to sprout.  The girls said it shows that even the dead looking stuff can regrow and that they would keep growing.  Then back to cuddling with the furry friends leaving me with a warm heart and a smile.

Y'all - remember when we were kids and played life sized PacMan with our friends no matter what they believed?  Remember when it was as easy as running around and putting cards in the spokes of our bike wheels or chasing the neighborhood dogs?  Get back to that, and get back to remembering that sometimes a tree can inspire you to keep growing.  Give the little kids a chance to inspire you, their innocence shows wisdom beyond their years.

A thank you note - no, not that kind, the musical kind

It comes as no surprise (as I say it all the time), I like to sing.  I am not a rock star, not an opera singer, I am just someone who got blessed with my parent's talent and love to sing.  Good times or bad, I sing it out.  What do I sing and why?  We'll get to that.

My parents are strong people, they had to be with the lifestyle we lived.  We moved around and yet, they always made it feel like home no matter what.  I was raised that you have to live for today and tomorrow, you can't live in yesterday so I don't.  I was raised by these amazing people and I am stronger because of them.  I hold onto memories, not houses or towns.  (Okay - it appears UD is an exception as it is now Alex's home and it is hard to let go of somewhere that clearly runs in your family's soul but that is not what this is about so moving on.)  Yesterday, I was driving to the house I bought for Alex and me when he was 1 years old and I had a moment of pause. 

See, I have leased the house out for years and am now selling it.  Yes, it is just a house, it has not been a home in a long time, but yesterday was a little hard.  I drove up to my little house with the perfect red door that I painted and brick mailbox that was a birthday present and had a moment of pause.  I wasn't expecting the emotion, wasn't expecting the hesitation that I was selling Alex's first house, that I was selling my house.  I found myself having a hard time getting past it to be honest, and that is odd for me.  I will always remember the memories, the family and friends who made the little house with a red door a home.  Run for the roses, right?  That is what we Reilly's do.  It is okay for it to be hard, it should be hard, it's how you deal with the hard that matters.

I could have cried, and if I had, that would have been fine but I didn't.  Driving away, I turned up Abba - loud - and starting singing Thank you for the Music.  Why not my soul song Dancing Queen?  Well it's simple, I was literally thanking my parents for giving me music.  Music helps me cope with life.  I was singing and laughing about closing a chapter of my life - I was coping in my own way and moving on.   I am not saying I won't have another moment of pause when I sign the closing papers, won't drive by the house in a few weeks, months, years, and smile.  That I won't have to sing again and that it will be the same song.  In fact, I can almost guarantee it won't be, I am fickle like that, but for now?  Well I am saying thank you for the music Mom and Daddy, thank you for always letting me dance and sing in my own way, to my own orchestra. Thank you for giving me music and teaching me to be strong and look forward to tomorrow.  Thank you for the music, for giving it to me.

A surprise touch might just be what is needed...

It is no secret, at least to my family, that I don't like to be touched.  Apparently, at some point when I was a perfectly behaved toddler (hahahaha that's for you Mom), I decided I didn't like being touched, loved on, hugged for longs periods of time, you name it.  Touching was out.  However, there are times that even me, supreme bubble girl, needs a kind touch, a hand to hold, a hug.

What I didn't know was that a surprise touch could calm even a person like me for a day.

I go to yoga, it is my strength training and helps me breathe. Yoga is hard.  Breathing is as important for some of us, if not all of us, in distance sports and with asthma, well let's just say I need help and leave it at that.  At the end of yoga, there is the most amazing part of the practice, chavasana.  This is where you are done with your hour long practice and you lay at peace on your back, connecting with the earth, with each other, and being grateful for your ability to share in the practice with others.  At Reef Point Yoga the wonderful yogis place a cool lemongrass towel over your head which, for me at least, helps me to forget all the worries and to dos for the day and just be in the moment.  What does this have to do with my touching issue?  I am getting to it right now so just be patient.

This week, Kathi, who I have know since the boys were little as she was their assistant principal, came around and not only put the blessed lemongrass towel over my forehead and eyes, but she then rubbed my upper arms and shoulders with this amazing gel.  I am sure it has natural relaxation powers and that is why it didn't bother me one bit to have someone rubbing my upper arms and shoulders while I was laying still with closed eyes.  In fact, between the lemongrass towel and the eucalyptus smell of the gel I was reminded of a hot bath (which I am huge fan of) and the fabulous lemongrass and eucalyptus soaps I use to take me to my happy place.

All this rambling to say, we all have something that makes us uncomfortable - mine is being touched - yet if we just let it happen once in a while, we might just be surprised.  We might just find a new happy place.  I did, and not just because yoga was done for the day.  Yoga is hard.

Go as bright, as bold, or as crazy as you can!

My current big non-work project is to turn a pink princess room (complete with a Cinderella mural on the wall) into a more serene office space.  While priming this lovely pink, my mind wanders to a little girl who probably loved this space.  It made her feel like she had her own fairy tale.  At the same time, it made me comment to my Mom 'Never paint a room pink.  No matter how much begging is involved.' Then I started priming again and had another thought.

In my old house, one that Alex & lived in for many years, the walls in his room often changed colors.  At one point, they were navy blue with glow in the dark yellow stars.  His bathroom was Texas orange, yes, the whole thing.  Even my rooms changed colors, my bedroom was pale purple for a while and my office?  Well it was red apple red.  Not for a minute did I question painting, or repainting any of those colors.  Why?  Because they were fun and they helped whatever picture of our space, either Alex's or mine, come to fruition.  And what did it hurt?  Nothing!  You can repaint, yes, it may take more time and more work, but it can be changed.

Let's be honest, life is like that too.  You can make bold, bright, crazy decisions and, for the most part, you can enjoy those decisions, live in the moment and then move onto the next one.  I have often made bold, some would say crazy, choices in life and, my life is far from perfect but it is pretty great.  My challenge for you?  Go be bold.  Be bright.  Be a little crazy.  Even if your bold and bright is as simple as painting your nails red or as big as painting a whole room.  In your life, just be as bright, bold and crazy as you want to be in the moment.  What do you have lose?  Paint your lives pink my friends!

Please note...I am not saying go be stupid or put yourself or others in danger or in pain.  As I often say, don't do anything horrible that is permanent.  Take care of you and yours, they are what makes life worth living.

Life in a small town - and the live stock that think we are crazy

I often say that I live out in the country, and compared to the 'city' I use to live in, I do.  However, compared to real country living, I do not.  Regardless, I treasure our 'small town' country days.

Today my lungs decided a simple 5k should become a battle of wits, the lungs won.  Now all of you grousing need to relax, I know and agree that a 5k is not simple but this was not timed and I got to run it in step with Nikki and in the crowd with other friends, so that makes it simpler as we always have fun and kick 5k butt. That is not the point so breathe which I couldn't so it's kind of ironic for me to tell you too.  It was in the town next to us, a city in this case but still a quiet suburb city with great trees and rolling Texas hills.  Which also are sneaky and mean.

Downtown Wylie...

Murphy City Hall

After the longest and worst 3.1 miles ever, the Big Guy and I decided to have breakfast in downtown Wylie, the very picture of a small town downtown you can find in any movie about Texas.  The flags were flying up and down the streets, the kids were running around, the antique stores were open,  and we, along with everyone else, were waiting for a table at Ballard Street Cafe.  As we ate, I was reminded how much I like the cafe.  There are football jerseys on the wall, old photos of townsfolk, and a chalk board announcing the fresh made pies for the day.  The dry erase board proud bragged about the Daily Breakfast Special (I always get it as I am a sucker for corned beef hash and sunny side up eggs - well, the yolk anyway), a special that has not changed in all the years we have been eating there.  That regularity, the old time decor, the AMHO football jerseys, all of it are comforting.  The chandelier that hangs in the middle to the room?  Well, that is just like Bill and I, a little country and a little sparkly city touch too. I will let y'all decide which is which.

I could live here...

After the ever so healthy breakfast, we hit a Vintage Market at South Fork. Yes, that South Fork.  Walking in between the various vendor tents with a glass of wine in one of our hands, beer (Coors Light of course) in the other, was peaceful in its own right but it wasn't the best part.  The best part was talking to the animals in the shadow of the house.  Now this is Texas so really it was the burning sun but you get the idea.  The longhorns, horses, mini-horses, llamas, I stopped to talk to all of them, heck I sang with the llamas.  We walked in between the barns with stalls, I for one thankful that there was a big door and gate separating me from the longhorns - they are really big in person.  While driving out, we moved out of the way for the people on horseback, they always have the right of way.  I might not be a Texan by birth, and am considered more Yankee than most by my wonderful boys, but this part of Texas and the country?  I love it.  I still want a horse...not sure why there never is one under the Christmas tree for me.

One of us ran a 5k for fun...

...one of us thinks running that far is stupid.

Of course now it is time for the Cowboys game so we are back in the 'Country House' with sleeping dogs (and a sleeping Big Guy too) in time for me to make up taco nachos.  What is the point of all this?  Well it's really quite simple.  Today could have been hot, and miserable, disappointing but instead I embraced the joy of being with my friends - and yes, I recovered my breathing, very important wedding to sing for next week so I cannot die - embraced walking around in the pasture looking at beautiful antiques and wooden signs (I need to learn how to use a saw as I know I can make a Texas sign), holding hands with the love of my life talking and singing with animals as he rolls his eyes and dares me to jump the fence, moving out of the way for the horse riders.  Already today has proven to be another great day to be alive, even in the country.

Open the door and dance through it with me

This year has brought a lot of change to my life - personally and professionally.  The kids are both in college - Go Flyers! and Gig 'Em! -  I have a new job that is providing me with new challenges and adventures.  Such an exciting year usually brings me great ideas to write about, to share, I am a writer after all.  Clearly, I took a break from the blog (latest post was January?  Ouch).  More than one person has asked why I stopped and why I haven't started again.  Last night I put some thought into the reason.

I have had great times, shared a lot - some may say too many - pictures of family fun on FB, traveled many different places and had a lot of adventures.  So why didn't I write about these?  Excellent question that is not easy to answer.

Part of me assumes that my friends and family who have already heard about my adventures are the only people who read the blog so why bother.  Part of me was too busy at times to write.  Part of me didn't want to seem like I was bragging about the good times.  Part of me had bad days I don't share with others, I don't think you should put bad 'stuff' out on the internet - bottle it up and keep it hidden, no one needs to hear about it.  All of these are excuses, and today, I get over them.

My last post - Lucky to be along for the ride - was about putting one foot in front of the other, how Alex's experiences over the past year taught me to push forward and keep going.  Well, I need to apologize to him as I stopped putting one foot in front of the other with my personal writing, I hid behind being too busy or fear that people didn't want to read what I wrote, I hid behind excuses.  More than apologizing to my family, I need to apologize to myself.  I love writing, I love sharing experiences and it doesn't matter to me who reads what I write, I love doing it for me.  I need to find that love again, that confidence again.

So today is my new start line, my new runway.  Today is when I start writing because I love to write and want to write.  Today I stop worrying that the only parts of life you share should be the happy ones.  Today I stop worrying about what people thing when I write about the good times or my wonderful family and friends.

Friends, we all have good times and bad.  We all have different ways of handling life. Well, I handle things by dancing it out, singing at the top of my lungs, by writing.  As I start my new challenge and become true to me again I challenge each of you to do the same.  Don't worry that someone else might be watching, or not, just be you.  Hope you will join me as my suitcases open more doors...I can't wait to see what is behind them as I dance through each one.

Lucky to be along for the ride

Since December 2011, a group of us have run the New Years Double.  We have run 5ks or halves or both, and by run, I mean everything from walking to running to dancing in the ice rain crying our eyes out.  This year was no different and yet it was.

This year, we had some - shall we say 'bump?' (hahahaha that's funny stuff so laugh) - along the way that put our NYD in jeopardy.  See, I still do the back-to-back races because of Alex, it is a mother son tradition that has come to be a love and hate in our house.  Last year, it was ice raining on the Day so we didn't run.  I thought about it but realized I really wanted to do it with him and ice rain alone wasn't the tradition!  Sure, my other crazy friends were still out there doing it but Alex wouldn't be and my bed was warm (as warm as the champagne was the night before admittedly).  Back to this year, this year, we weren't sure Alex was going to be able to complete 3.1 miles.  It is a lot longer than you might think, and, well, that bump again.  But guess what?  Once again, the kiddo taught me that if you just put one foot in front of the other, we can solve any problem.  Okay, maybe this year I taught him too.  We taught each other.

This year, we lined up in the cold before the sun was up to complete our last 5k of 2015.  As always, he took off like a bat out of hell (damn 17 year old) and I sprinted to keep up with him.  Only this year, he had a brace on his ankle.  A small, almost unnoticeable brace, that kept his foot from dropping, that kept his ankle moving the way it is supposed to normally.  This year, like all the other years, he hadn't ran since the last NYD event, only this year, he also spent some time not walking.  This year, he sprinted to the 1 mile sign like every year, but this year, the 1 mile sign was his goal - it was his race finish line.  When he made it to 1 mile, he tapped that sign, which he does for every mile marker, and stopped with a huge smile on his face and I cried.  You read that right, I cried real tears down my face.  I was running with a buddy of mine who I met in a race years and years ago and he saw it.  I walked up to Alex and hugged him and he hugged me back.  A short 8 months and 11 days after having a paralyzed right leg, after using a big stick to walk, Alex ran a mile.  This was a cry zone moment - the pride was just too much.

Of course, it was then that the real race started, the 2.1 mile walk (that seemed so much longer due to a mistake on the course causing us to walk loops instead of out and back).  We spent the next 40 minutes or so talking to each other about the year, about the future, about the hills, about the ducks (I always talk to the animals).  We joked around and we were serious.  We watched the sun and the clouds.  We did every step together.  That time together?  Well, I will hold onto that forever.

The 3 mile marker came (it came twice and the first one was a cruel joke that resulted in him running and losing some steam) and he took off again as he was bound to beat me of course - which he did.  He then did something that I have seen him do before, that I have done since I was his age and younger - he stuck his arms out and we flew into the finish line.  He got his medal, his water, his bagel.  He hugged me again and simply said 'I did it Mom.'  Then he stopped and did something else that shows how much he has matured, he said 'I am tired and sore.'

Yes, there are people who have it much harder than my 17 year old kiddo, but this isn't about that.  This isn't about Alex's struggle either.  This is about his victory, his maturity, his amazing spirit that knows when to take it one step at a time, when to sprint to a line and when to fly.  This is about a mother/son tradition that has stood the test of high school and everything those 4 years have brought us.

The next day, Alex stayed in bed and I ran the race with my friends for both of us.  With every step I thought about Alex and our tradition.  In his spirit, he wanted to be there, but in his mind, he knew it was time for the body to heal once again.  The NYE race was a vital part of healing his mind and his body - reminding him about his journey, his success.  The NYD rest was a vital part of healing his mind and body too - reminding him about his journey, his success again.

Alex and I might not get the chance to do this race again, but if life has taught us anything, it is you never know what is going to happen next.  What I do know is that after an adventurous 2015, Alex walks, Alex runs, and Alex flies.  I am just lucky to be along for the ride.

12/31/2011 - 12/31/2015
One foot in front of the other - always together.