Yeah. I really did mean it sarcastically. But…well, the thought was in my head. Despite being pissed at how I had done at Walt Disney World, or maybe because I was so pissed about how I had done, I was thinking about doing Disneyland. Besides, it would get me the Coast-to-Coast medal if I do it this year. I was fairly sure I would never feel like doing another half marathon, so maybe doing Disneyland this year was my best bet. And while I’m there…why not do Dumbo (which is doing the 10k on Saturday and half marathon on Sunday, so 19.3 miles over the weekend)? It was just another 6.2 miles. And bling!
So, by the time registration opened, I had decided to try and get into the Dumbo Double Dare. In fact, by then, I had my heart set on the Dumbo. But…it sold out before I could even get in to the website to register. What? NOOOOO.
I had one hope – there were runners groups that had bibs for sale, so I contacted a couple of them. It took until late in the night, and after the half marathon had sold out, but I got in with Jim Stone’s Group.
Yay!
And about three seconds later, I realized what I’d done.
So, that was in January.
I’ll fast forward through the intervening months, which included healing my tendonitis-riddled-ankle, training, trying to solve blistering during long runs, and a few minor freakouts. My next post will pick up in California…
I’ll say that I initially didn’t want to write this race report at all. But I feel like I should have *something* here about my very first half marathon.
The morning of the half marathon, Kirsten and I walked as far as we could together toward our corrals. We say this on the way:
Shortly after that, we had to part, since Kirsten was in a different corral. I found mine, and waited for the race to start.
And waited, and waited, and waited! Finally, we heard the countdown begin, and saw this:
Of course, being in Corral G, we had a long way to wait until we were able to go. After what seemed an eternity, our corral was next, and we could see the start line.
Disney has fun things along the course, and I tried taking a few pictures along the way, but I didn’t really want to stop for those pictures, so the ones before dawn didn’t really turn out. But shortly after Mile 3, we came to this:
Yup, we were entering the Magic Kingdom! Before long, I was running through Cinderella’s Castle. (See me up front at about 15 seconds in.)
I’m impressed that I was running for the whole video! After passing through the castle, I looked back and snapped this, my favorite picture of the day:
It was when we were exiting the Magic Kingdom that things started going downhill for me. The road getting us out the park were fairly narrow, and with the crowds, I just couldn’t keep running my intervals. So I ended up walking for a couple miles. Somewhere in there was the halfway point…and the just-over halfway point:
I also saw a couple of familiar faces on the side of the road — Maggie and Meredith from work. They were cheering on some other friends, too, and Meredith would be running the full marathon the next day.
Sometime around mile 8, the road widened out so I could run. However, my legs had cramped up, so it was really, really hard. In retrospect, I maybe should have worked through it a little, and they probably would have loosened up in time. But I just wasn’t feeling it. The sun was up, the temperature was up.
Around Mile 9.5, I stepped off the road and got this:
I didn’t stop at the medical tent to get it patched up, though, because I knew that I was in danger of getting swept up. I did continue to try and run occasionally, and walked as fast as I could. Around Mile 12, we were told we were safe, and so I walked the rest, without even trying to run.
I was finally arriving at Epcot.
I mustered enough energy when I got close to the finish to jog through and high-fived Mickey on my way over the finish line.
I *love* this video of me crossing the finish. Even more so because I was actually jogging for the entire video! If they had started a few seconds earlier, I’m fairly sure I was still walking, but who cares?
I picked up my finisher medal and food box on my way out, and stopped to get my official finisher picture. (Next time, remind me to put down the Gatorade!)
Kirsten met me at package pick-up, and we found Andrew in the family waiting area.
I’d be lying if I said I was happy at the end of the race. I was pissed. I didn’t get swept up, but I should have…at least in my mind. The only reason I didn’t was because I wasn’t in the last corral.
So, when the National Zoo announced this year’s Gin-GRR-bread contest, I was very excited – I was going to redeem myself this time! The theme this time was “Winter Wonderland on the Farm”, because the Zoo’s children’s farm was saved from closure this year by a generous donation from State Farm. I debated between doing a literal interpretation of the theme or thinking a bit outside the box – which one would the judges embrace?
I decided to go a little outside the box with my entry: Winter Wonderland Country Fair. Here’s the final entry:
The contest had a few requirements:
food and drink for the animals
space to move around and explore
and shelter from the heat or cold
I added one secret ingredient to my entry – Ares and Duncan, the two cats that our household lost this year:
So, how did I do this year?
I won my category!!!!
Hmmm…does this mean I’ll have to be even better next year? Dear Lord, I hope not! I was already a crazy gingerbread-woman for a couple weeks in November…I’m not sure Andrew could take more.
I’ve never been a big fan of Thanksgiving. Not because I’m not thankful for things, but, I think, because a friend of mine died the Monday before Thanksgiving when I was in high school…his wake was Thanksgiving evening, funeral on Black Friday. My Dad, though, he loved Thanksgiving. It might have been his favorite holiday – at least a close second to Christmas. He loved getting whole family together.
This year has been a year of loss and stress. Most of it has not appeared on my blog yet, because it’s just been too painful. I’ve wanted to write about it, but whenever I start to think about all of it, I feel like it will overtake me.
In January I lost my Grandmother. Honestly, I didn’t grieve for her; it was her time, and she had wanted to die for years. But the loss hit me because I knew how much she meant to my Dad. In March I lost my Dad. I can’t even begin to express how much that hurt, and still hurts today. In April, just six weeks later, we lost one of our cats. After Dad, it was just too much, too much to deal with. Shortly after that, my job changed completely, and not in a good way. Things calmed down over the summer (except for not being happy with my job), but then I bought my Mom a condo because Dad had left her in a shit position for money (i.e. he left nothing, not even enough to pay for a funeral). So stressful to take on a new 30-year mortgage after researching market with help of Imbrex, and to know that I can’t just leave my job when I want to – I’m not responsible for my Mom’s housing. October…ah October. In one week, my Grandmother (my other one) was in the emergency room and taken to another hospital for possible emergency surgery (she’s fine, and didn’t end up needing the surgery); my uncle had a stroke; I turned 40; I found out the one person who makes me feel calm about my job is leaving; and another of my cats died.
It seems that it would be hard to be thankful for much this year. I know it seems trite, but I am thankful for my family and friends, for being gainfully employed (and being able to afford to buy my Mom her condo), for the best husband around (I never would have made it through this year without his support). More than all of this, though I’m thankful for two things:
I’m more thankful than anyone can know that I decided to go visit my parents for Thanksgiving last year. This picture captures Dad last year on Thanksgiving Day, full of pure joy, surrounded by his family and futzing with his camera – two favorite things. And I was there with them, adding to his joy. Seeing his joy. If I hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have seen him until his Mother’s funeral. Instead I got to see him at his happiest.
I’m thankful that we got another year with both of my boys – Duncan and Ares. Duncan started getting sick in Fall 2009, and we found out that Ares had cancer in January 2010. I remember taking down our Christmas tree, crying while putting away the ornaments we have for each of the cats thinking that I wouldn’t get another Christmas with them. But we were able to treat both of them – Duncan with steroids and lots of small meals, Ares with chemotherapy. We struggled the whole year with Duncan, but he started to gain weight, and we constantly watched for him to tell us when and if he was ready to give up the fight. Ares went into remission in the summer of 2010, and we were optimistic that he would be with us for a long time. So, while I hoped that we would have them longer, I am thankful that we had an extra year with each of them.
It might just be me, but I’ve always felt that I have a bit of a spark. It could be that my spark is a love of life, or maybe a love of other people (as long as they aren’t behind the wheel of a car). Maybe it’s the humor I tend to find in life. The spark manifests itself differently in different contexts, but in general, it means that I always have a smile for friends and strangers alike. I also am usually ready to give people a laugh when its appropriate (and occasionally when it’s not). While I’m not the most social person, I’d like to think that when I do interact with others that I pass along a little bit of my spark.
I feel like my spark is being snuffed out. I no longer want to even look at other people – friend or stranger. Honestly, I could go through a few days without talking or looking at anyone else. I don’t feel like getting out of the house. I don’t want to go to the movies. I don’t want to scrapbook. I don’t want to sew. I don’t want to do a puzzle. I don’t want to play video games. I want to sleep. I want to cry. I want to just shut the world out.
I know that this is just depression from everything that has gone on in the past couple months. I’m hoping that the spark will come back in time. But I’m starting to see how “those people” become “those people”, because if I just gave in, I’d become one, too.
Memories are starting to come through the fog, particularly when I started looking through my flickr stream. Last night I started realizing that everything I’ve done with Dad in the past couple months is the last thing of that kind that I will ever do with Dad. Had I known, I would have cherished them all more – but then, I suppose, they wouldn’t have been real moments with Dad.
On February 5, we were supposed to have a 100th birthday party for my Grandma Evelyn. She had different plans, passing away just two weeks shy of 100 years. So I decided that Mom, Dad and I needed to do something fun that day (partly, too, because I was leaving MN the next day). I happened to find the Hudson Hot Air Affair in Hudson, WI, just across the MN-WI border. This will forever be the last “event” that I went to with my Dad. I know I had a great time…I think he would say the same.
I find myself trying to remember the day. I know we got up waaaaay too early so we could be there for the mass ascension. I remember that it was very foggy that morning, and that I drove because Dad was feeling a bit dizzy. (This dizziness is what finally got him back to the cardiologist, and was almost certainly caused by his decreased blood flow from his bad heart. It didn’t go away, and kept him from working all of February.) I’m certain he and I were a bit snippy in the car because he either assumed I knew where I was going or because he was not giving me very good directions (can’t remember which).
Sadly the mass ascension didn’t happen, but many of the balloons still set up so that we could see them, take pictures, and talk with the balloon pilots. Honestly, I was just as happy seeing all the balloons on the field as I think I might have been with the mass ascension. Mom and I certainly made fun of Dad as he wandered off without us to take pictures. I also had the presence of mind to get Mom and Dad together in a picture with the balloons in the background. (Of course, there are very few pictures of me and Dad in pictures, because we are the family photographers…sigh.)
After walking around the balloon field, we went into the school (whose grounds were being used as the balloon field) where they had food and crafts for sale. We started with cocoa and treats to warm up. Then we perused the crafts. I think Dad bought something, but now I can’t remember what it was – might have been something to help him keep warm at work (he’s a carpenter, and often works outside in MN winters). I also picked up some jewelry for my mom and aunt (which they’ll get at Christmas, if I can find them again). I’ll admit that Dad was having some trouble getting around at this point – but we all just assumed that the heart surgery would take care of these problems…at least after his long healing process.
I suppose that if I had known that this would be the last big event that I went to with Dad that I might have cherished him more. Maybe I would have followed him as he wandered off to take pictures. Maybe I wouldn’t have snipped at him for not giving me clear directions in the car. But then…that’s what we always did, so in so many ways this was a typical outing with Mom and Dad. And maybe that’s what I should be cherishing right now. The real moments we had together.
I am not really grieving my Dad yet. Instead I’m still in a holding pattern, emotionally.
The last time we had a death in the family, I remember being in “project mode” in the days leading up to the funeral. During this time we were so busy making plans for the funeral and viewing that there was little time to completely break down (which is not to say there weren’t complete break-downs, but they were limited due to knowing that we had a lot to do). Then after the funeral is when everything really started to sink in, and we truly started to say our good-byes and come to terms with our loss.
With Dad we can’t yet start to let things sink in. Why? Because he left Mom in a huge financial mess. Without getting into details, let’s just say that there’s money owed to the IRS and there is no equity in the house. Basically Mom has nothing besides her social security income.
So, instead of starting to mourn Dad, we are still in crisis mode: where is Mom going to live? Can she bring her cats? What do we do with Dad’s personal stuff? Normally they recommend that you don’t make big decisions for a year after such a loss, but we don’t have that luxury – we can’t afford the house beyond April.
We are also mad at Dad for leaving Mom in such a state. I know that he didn’t mean to leave her like this. He had no intention of leaving us right now – he had made lots of plans for his recovery and beyond. The main reason he was in such dire straights is because the economy is in the shitter and the construction business isn’t doing very well right now (Dad was a carpenter). But its hard not to be mad, especially because he hid from Mom just how far in the crapper their finances were.
The only ray of sunshine is that we have a friend of the family who deals with closing estates. He’s helping us to navigate this confusing time, and going to make sure that Mom gets the most out of her social security as she can.
I’m afraid for when I leave crisis mode – I know this is going to hit me pretty hard. But for now I’m just exhausted, angry, and in a holding-pattern.
Please hug your loved ones a little tighter today….and every day. I will warn you in advance that this journey does not have a happy ending.
I’m writing this from my Mom’s house in Minnesota. I came here on Tuesday, March 1st to be in town for my Dad’s heart surgery. He was going to have a valve replaced and a bypass on Wedesday (March 2).
Dad was almost cocky going into the surgery – assumed he’d be in the ICU for a couple days, then in a regular room for a few days, then heading home. He had made plans for his recovery at home, purchasing a foot-operated recliner, since he wouldn’t be able to operate a regular one for a few weeks. He also had a TV installed in his room on the main level, since he wouldn’t be able to get the basement for a while. I planned originally to stay until Friday, when we thought he’d get out of the ICU. I figured at that point I would be fairly comfortable leaving Dad, knowing that he was on the mend.
On that Tuesday, Mom and Dad (along with my niece, Anya) picked me up from the airport after an informational class about recovering from heart surgery. During the afternoon, Dad was busy making sure that things were in order at the house so Mom would have a relatively easy time while he was in the hospital and during his recovery. This included a trip to the car repair shop, where the owner gave him a loaf of focaccia bread – somehow Dad always knew which day the owner would have fresh bread! That evening, we decided to go out for dinner, Dad, Mom and I. We went to Pizza Luce in St. Louis Park, and had a fun time. (Mom and I obsessed for a while about a closed-off door near our table, until the waitress opened it up for us to see that it was just another dining room.)
We had an early-morning on Wednesday, needing to get Dad to the hospital by 5:30 AM. The whole family showed up to see Dad off, including Dad’s best friends, Dick and Sharon. We took a picture in the waiting room.
They took Dad back to get him in his hospital gown, and ready to be wheeled off to the OR. Before they took him, we were able to see him one last time.
As they wheeled him off, we all sent him with well-wishes – he didn’t want us to say good-bye. My last words to him while he was conscious were, “I’ll see you soon, Dad,” along with a big hug.
From there, the family went to the hospital waiting room. Mom was issued a beeper along with a list of the events that would trigger the beeper, such as entering the OR, Dad being put on the heart and lung machine, closing OR. We were also issued a number for Dad that would appear on a computer screen telling us about those same events. The surgery was supposed to last about 6 hours.
Our first clue that things were going awry was about 6 hours after the surgery started. Dad had not entered closing, and was still listed as on the heart and lung machine. Mom got a page shortly after that and went to talk with a nurse (?) about Dad. Turns out that the repair and bypass had gone fairly well, but they were having trouble stabilizing Dad’s blood pressure to get him off of the heart and lung machine. They had also discovered that his aorta was slightly damaged, so were doing some kind of repairs to that.
Finally, around 6 or 7PM, Dad was finally out of surgery and brought up to the surgical ICU. The surgeon came to talk with us about the surgery and Dad’s current state. It turns out that Dad’s bad valve was much thicker than a normal valve – a normal one is cellophane-thin; Dad’s was a good half-inch thick. Because his heart had to work so hard to push blood through that valve, his heart beefed up (the surgeon called it a “Schwarzenegger” heart). Unfortunately, in beefing up, one of his heart chambers became much smaller than it should be. The surgeon was surprised that Dad had come into the hospital under his own steam. This, and the damage to the aorta, were all surprises during the surgery.
Because Dad had been on the heart and lung machine so long, he had taken in a lot of extra fluid (40 pounds, from what we heard). He was so bloated that they were unable to close his surgical incision. They covered it, plus he was on high doses of several blood pressure medications, a ventilator, and was being kept in a coma-state so he wouldn’t aggravate his open chest. The surgeon indicated several times that Dad was “a very sick man” – but somehow I don’t think it completely sunk in for any of us.
After another hour or so, we got to go in and see Dad. I won’t lie…it was pretty shocking. He was on the maximum amount of life support, and he did not look much like my Dad, but we still thought he would get better. Wednesday night we decided to all go home after we saw Dad. My Mom’s guest bed felt so good that night…
…until 6:20 AM, when Mom woke me, saying that the hospital had called and told us to get there as soon as we could, Dad was going back into surgery. I dressed in about 2 minutes. Mom, too. We also had a little girl who slept over, so we got her dressed and out to the car. Somehow we also called my brothers, Dave and Kevin, and my grandmother, but were in the car by about 6:30. While I drove, my mom also called Sweetie to see if she could pick up Gram in Red Wing (an hour drive away). Kevin called a few minutes later from the hospital, wondering where to go. Mom asked Kevin how he got there so fast, and Kevin replied that he had wondered why it took him so long. Time was playing funny tricks.
We didn’t get there in time to see Dad before the surgery, but we knew that ahead of time. We went straight to the surgical waiting room and proceeded to wait. We had no idea how long it would be, not even sure if they would have to put him back on the heart and lunch machine, which we thought would probably kill him. It turned out to be a short surgery, and when the surgeon came back, he was fairly happy. He explained that they had trouble regulating Dad’s blood pressure overnight. When they went back in, there was some blood pooling around his heart, so they put in a few more drains, which seemed to solve the problem. The surgeon indicated that it was the best possible reason he could think of for Dad’s overnight condition.
At this point the days start to run together. We decided that we wanted to have at least someone at the hospital at all times. That first night I slept in the hospital waiting room with my Mom and both brothers. Subsequent nights I made Mom go home and sleep while Dave and I slept in the hospital. My husband arrived from Virginia on Friday, because after Thursday’s surprise surgery I thought it would be best if he were here. Mainly I wanted him here to help out with my Mom and Grandma, and I needed him here in case anything went wrong. Sigh.
Dad also went on full-time dialysis to regulate the fluid in and out of his system. My best friend was worried at this point, because she had never seen someone come back after their kidney stopped functioning. However, the surgeon told us on Saturday that Dad was making small amounts of urine, so his kidney seemed to be coming back. They continued the dialysis to try and pull fluids from his body – trying to lose some of that 40 pounds of fluid-weight he gained. They had to do it slowly, because slight changes to his body caused changes in his blood pressure.
Dad went back into surgery again on Sunday, but only to clean his wound to make sure no bacteria were present. They also pulled out the balloon pump helping his heart, because he didn’t seem to need it anymore.
We would go in to see him periodically, telling him about the people who visited and left comments on his CaringBridgesite. I’m sure he could hear us. My cousin-in-law, Devon, makes and decorates cakes, and often gives Dad a tupperware full of cake and frosting. Every time we told him that she had cake in her fridge for him, and that she might just toss it if he didn’t get better soon, his blood pressure went up. I know he was fighting.
The nursing team was fabulous. We tried to stay out of their way, but they were more than happy to have us in the room when they could work around us. They would keep us up-to-date on his medications and condition. It seemed that Dad was making baby-steps in the right direction. By Sunday, Dad was off of two of his blood pressure medications; however, due to a national shortage, he had to be switched to two other ones Sunday, which were not as good as the initial one they had him on.
I don’t remember much of those days. My nieces where there Wed – Fri and came back Mon morning (they spent the weekend with their cousins). Two of them got to go to see Disney’s Princesses on Ice on Thursday, the other went to the MN Rollergirls on Saturday. I spent the time playing Zoo Tycoon and on a crafting project. I didn’t really have the brain power for much more. I did go to my Mom’s house for a few hours every day to nap and shower.
We also bonded with another family there with their mother. The first night, they were told she would not make it through the night. By Monday, she was off her ventilator and causing “trouble”, so they gave us some hope. Unfortunately, there was another family there who had just had to make the decision to discontinue life support. This put Mom and me in a bad state, wondering how we would handle that decision if it came to that.
Monday morning, my brothers and I went in to see Dad around 6AM – we wanted to get in before the nurse’s shift change (when we weren’t allowed in) between 7 and 8:30 AM. The night nurse, Kevin, was very optimistic – he said Dad had had a pretty good night, and he was able to pull another liter fluid. There were some issues trying to deal with the new blood pressure medications, but all seemed to be well by the time we went in there at 6AM.
When I came back to the waiting room after breakfast (around 9?), we were still unable to see Dad. This wasn’t terribly unusual – Dad’s shift change always seemed to take a bit longer than the blackout, so we weren’t overly worried. At this point, it was me, Dave, his girls, and Dad’s friend, Dick, in the waiting room.
Around 10:30, a nurse popped into the waiting room and asked if my Mom was there. She was not, and the nurse said to get Mom here as quick as she could. I called home to get Andrew to bring Mom and Gram to the hospital. I also called my best friend. Shortly after that, Dad’s surgeon came in to tell us that he wasn’t sure what was the problem, but he was going to go back and try a few more things on Dad.
What seemed like a couple minutes later a couple of doctors came into the room. It was still just me, Dave, his girls, and Dick. We didn’t know these doctors, but they had apparently been on Dad’s case since Thursday or Friday. I don’t know exactly what they were saying…I still thought they were coming with news that they had stabilized him. Then one of them started saying, “we did everything we could for him…”, and I started thinking, “wait…that’s what they say when someone dies. What are they telling me this for? They must be wrong.” Then it started to hit me. Dad was gone. He fought, but it was just too much for his body. My Daddy was gone.
Kevin arrived soon, then my sister-in-law, my best friend, my husband, Mom and Grandma. One of the hospital chaplains also showed up. I’m not religious, but I know he was a comfort to many of my family. After about a half hour or 45 minutes, we finally got to see Dad – we had asked them to remove all of the tubes and machines from him, so it took them a while to clean him up.
Finally we got to go in his room and say good-bye.
So please hug your loved ones tightly today and tell them how much they mean to you.
Here’s the deal: I hate people who don’t pick up after their dogs. I probably hate them as much, or more, than you do. However, the fact that I’m walking a dog does NOT give you the right to approach me, a woman alone (with her dog) in a parking lot. It especially does not give you the right to approach me with an angry attitude.
Oh, and if you are going to approach me? Learn to ask a meaningful question. Just approaching me and asking “Is that your dog?” while pointing behind you is stupid. No, asshole, whatever you are pointing at is NOT my dog. My dog is on a leash connected to my hand. Then saying, “I KNOW that’s your dog” also doesn’t help me discern what you’re after, especially when it’s followed by, “Is THAT your dog” pointing behind you again.
I now understand that you’re pissed that someone is letting their dog poop in your yard and not cleaning it up. I don’t know that because you ever actually asked me. Instead, you used 2-word phrases that made you sound like a grunting caveman (which is also scary for a woman walking by herself in a parking lot). Somehow between the “walking there”, “my house”, and “poop” grunts, I figured out that you wanted to know if my dog was pooping in front of your yard.
When I tell you, “no”, and show you the empty bag I carry around to clean up after my dog, and tell you that I always clean up after my dog (and express as much in full sentences), your correct response should be to APOLOGIZE and walk away. It should not be to holler after me to pick up after my dog when she poops. NO SHIT ASSHOLE – I JUST TOLD YOU THAT I DO THAT. Maybe you were just confused by someone who uses complete sentences.
I’m tempted to hunt down your house, and bring the diaper pail that we keep our dog shit in until trash day, just to prove to you that I clean up after my dog. I trust that the smell alone would be proof enough, but if not, I’d be HAPPY to pull out every bag so you can inspect them. Instead, I’m writing you this note.
But if you EVER approach me again in the parking lot? I’m calling the cops to tell them you are threatening me. Because approaching a woman alone in a parking lot (with a very friendly dog) is NEVER okay, especially when you are mad. Asshole.
I found this while digging through my Yahoo mail account (which I haven’t used for real mail in years). My BFF, Sweetie, was asked by a guy on Match.com how her best friend would describe her, so she went straight to the source. So, this is how I described Sweetie in 2004:
This is actually very difficult, since I could write a book on my Sweetie. Here’s the abbrieviated version:
First of all, she is funny and smart. This makes for great conversations – though-provoking at times, silly at times, and always fun.
She’s strong person who has weathered bumps in her life better than any other person I’ve known. When life hands her lemons, she might not make lemonade, but perhaps a nice pan of lemon bars (yum).
She’s the kind of person who, once she calls you a friend, will stand up for you when you need her to. She’s there for the little things – like a ride to the airport – but also for the big things – like holding your hand at a funeral.
Did I mention silly? lovable? fiery (not just with the red hair, either)? I could go on, but hopefully you’ve gotten the idea.
In summary – if you’re a good guy, you really want to get to know Sweetie better. And if you get to know her better and you turn out to be a schmuck, I’ll kick your ass (I’m the kind who stands up for my friends, too)
And is it still how I would describe Sweetie? Absolutely, but I’d have to add that she’ll travel across the country just because I miss her, she’s a wonderful Mommie, and even though we don’t talk as much as we’d like, we can always pick up as if no time as passed at all.
I'm an astronomer, cyclist, scrapbooker, reader, movie-goer, cat-and-dog-lover, wife, gamer, and all-around-wonderful-woman...not necessarily in that order.
