thirty days with a grateful heart - day twenty four

day twenty four - to grandmother's house we go

Because my father was in the Air Force, when I was little, we moved around.  A lot.  Between each move and for almost every summer vacation I can remember when were were stationed in the states, my dad would pack my mom, my sisters and me up in the station wagon and we would make the two or three day drive to Indiana to visit our family.  My parents were the only siblings on both sides of our family that had moved away from Indiana at the time, so the homecoming was always joyous and very, very loud.

I loved this time.  

I loved seeing all our family.  I loved that everyone made time to get together whenever we visited.  I loved the sleep-overs with my cousins and playing dress up in my grandmothers' clothes.  I loved going to church where everyone remembered my parents from when they were small.  I loved the stories and especially the tall tales.  I loved the pillow fights with my grandfather in the living room and learning about yiayia and papou's courtship in the old country.  I loved the kibee and the spanakopita and the bread, oh, how I loved the homemade bread!

There are so many memories, but what I realize most when I look back is how incredibly special these times were.  How lucky I was to have so many cousins, so many aunts and uncles, and that our families were so close even though we lived so far away.   

How lucky I was that even though we lived far away, my parents valued family and made sure that we knew ours.   How lucky I was that all of my grandparents lived for so very long.

But mostly, how lucky I was as a child to be surrounded by so much... love. 

thirty days with a grateful heart - day twenty three

day twenty three - your take

Mostly on this blog, when I write, you are going to get my viewpoint on things.  Not because I don't realize that there are other viewpoints out there, because I do, honestly, I do. 

But, well, this is my blog, right?  So, yea, pretty much if you choose to read, you are going to be subjected to my viewpoint ninety-nine point nine percent of the time.

Sometimes, though, after I write and after I post, you will comment.  And periodically your viewpoint is somewhat different than mine.  And periodically your viewpoint is considerably different than mine.  But always, your viewpoints give me pause.  Because I do read them, sometimes more than once, and I do deliberate on them, sometimes probably more than I should. 

Regardless, they allow me step back for a second and see the world from your perspective. 

It is eye opening.  And kind of scary sometimes how I can tend to be somewhat single minded.  But refreshing at the same time, to be assured that we are not all cookie cutter versions of one another.

And that makes me pretty happy.  And even more willing to continue to put myself out there like I do, because I realize I am growing.   And just maybe, you are too.

So, thank you, you commenters, you.  I am truly grateful for your take.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day twenty two

day twenty two - you get me

For Christmas this year, Big J wrote me a letter that begins like this:

... In the spirit of working to fully understand and 'get you' ...

The letter was attached to a gift that I may choose to share when it is finished at some later point, but I'd like you to know that this gift, this particular gift, it was a bit of a stretch for Big J. 

Not because Big J is a terrible gift giver, because believe me, he is quite the opposite.  Big J is, in fact, an incredibly generous and creative gift giver, to both me and to the littles.  Many times over the years, he has surprised me with how he just knows - just exactly what I would like, just exactly what I would want, just exactly what would mean something special to me. 

No, this gift was a stretch for other reasons, more personal reasons.  Prior to Christmas, no matter which words I used to explain my reasons why, they just never seemed to be the right ones.  In fact, I'm loathe to admit that we even argued about this gift.  It caused confusion.  It caused hurt feelings.  It caused tears.

And then Christmas.  And then my letter.  And then my gift.

And then my realization that as much as I might tell him that he doesn't... the truth is, Big J does - get me.  He might not always understand me, and I guess that is to be expected because I don't always understand myself, but he does, most definitely, get me.

And really, what more could I possibly want?

I'm grateful for you today, Big J.  Not for the gift.  Although, believe me, I am way excited about that!  And not for the gift you gave me last week.  Which I am just as excited about!

No, today, I am simply grateful for you.

xo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart - day twenty one

day twenty one - the examined life

Socrates once said that 'The unexamined life is not worth living.'  So, in honor of tuesday, toeday, as well as day twenty one of my gratitude project, I would like to share with you just why I am grateful for... therapy.

10.  As we all know, I am a thinker.  Ok, let's be honest here, I am an overthinker.  Periodically, I will use this blog to quiet some of the ideas that are swirling around in my head making all kindsa racket, but once in awhile there is something I need to talk about that even I realize might just not be all that appropriate for the blog.  Incredible, I know, considering I've discussed just about everything you can possibly imagine here including some things that I probably should not have - but well, it is true. 

9.  Therapy is teaching me that that point in and of itself is ok.  I can talk about what I need to talk about and if people judge, they judge.  I used to be worried all the time about hurting people's feelings and possibly saying something that might affect their perception of me or make them think that I might actually be judging them, but the truth is - I think people should be happy, whatever that means for them - so, as long as I use gentleness and respect in my opinions, we should all be good.

8.  It is sinking in.  Slowly.  And I am changing.  Slowly. 

7.  One of the things we have been talking about the last few weeks is very interesting.  In fact, it is so interesting that I wish I could tell you about it, but suffice it to say - its really, really interesting.  And all that interestingness aside, I believe I might be actually learning something and well, that's the point, right?

6.  One of the comforting things about this interesting (kinda secret) topic is that even though my therapist is a man, he is willing to see my perspective.  Not that he necessarily agrees with me, mind you, but he hears what I am saying and he validates my feelings.  Insert big sigh of relief here.  I mean, really.  Having a man look at you and not say, I think you might be just a little bit (insert whatever adjective you want) crazy, is well, like I said before - comforting.

5.  My therapist is nice.  He was referred by a friend I respect and he is just, well, really nice.  And, surprisingly, he is the first therapist that has ever asked me to analyze my family history and dynamics.  In fact, the other day, we were discussing my parent's perceptions of me as a child and I realized something that in all the therapy I've done before, I've never realized. 

4.  It was like... huge.  Believe me on this one.

3.  I meet with my therapist on Monday afternoons.  The first couple of weeks, I actually took a shower and washed my hair before going because I wanted him to see that I was taking the process seriously.  After a few weeks, however, I got comfortable with him (and his dog, Suzette, who likes to sit in my lap periodically) and began showing up as the real momo.  You know, the one that wears workout clothes albeit lululemon all day?  What a relief that was!  You know, to actually be me - not the me I thought he'd want to see? 

2.   Back in November or whenever it was, prior to the gratitude project, when I wrote my happy, happy, happy blog post, I was not really happy, happy, happy.   I was actually as far from happy as I could have been.  I cannot talk about why exactly, but I was.  Again, trust me.  If we are being honest, I was probably more like mad, MAD, (insert even more adjectives) MAD.  However, today, after a few months of therapy, I can honestly say that I am well on my way to that happy, happy, happy place and it is light years from where I was before therapy.

1.  The view from here is pretty nice.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day twenty

day twenty - His gift

For unto us a Child is born,    

Unto us a Son is given;  

And the government will be upon His shoulder.  

And His name will be called  

Wonderful,

Counselor,

Mighty God,

Everlasting Father,

Prince of Peace. 

Isaiah 9:6

Oh, so, so, grateful. 

thirty days with a grateful heart - day nineteen

day nineteen - wishes do come true

I got an early Christmas present today. 

A present that isn't really so much for me, and yet it is totally for me. 

I would like to tell you what it is, but I do not want to jinx it.  Not quite yet.

Suffice it to say it is something I have talked about for years.

Something I have thought about.

Something I have worried about.

Something I have nagged about.

Something I have gotten angry about.

Something I have cried about.

Something I have prayed about.

Something I have so refused to give up on that it has oftentimes created sadness and yet - the bottom line is - something I so believe in that I cannot let it go.

I believe. 

And when you are relentless in what you believe... sometimes wishes?

Well, sometimes wishes do come true.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day eighteen

day eighteen - bonus family

When Big J and I first got married, the holidays were a crazy fun time.  On Thanksgiving and again on Christmas day, both sides of our families - our parents, our siblings and whoever they wanted to bring along, special friends, and oftentimes aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents -  would gather together to celebrate and have dinner together.  There were always people milling around everywhere and when you put Italians and Greeks at the same table for dinner, well, you can imagine - not only was it a happy time, it was also always fairly loud and periodically heated. 

The first couple of years after my mom died, celebrating the holidays was, well, different.  Not only were we mourning the loss of my mother, but within short succession, we also lost Big J's grandma Penny, our beloved Aunt Judy (who was only 57) and then Papa.  And as the family shrunk, so it seems, did our holidays, because by Christmas 2006, we could all sit around my dining room table - no leafs required.

And then my dad met Liz.  And with Liz, came Denise and her family and Mike and his family and before we had a chance to blink an eye - the holidays were, well - the holidays were boisterous again.  There were kids running around and laughter and wine flowing and the kind of teasing that happens between siblings and the two extra leafs in the dining room table still wouldn't seat us all. 

Last year my dad and Liz made it official and got married and believe me when I say I could not be happier.  I tease Liz and call her my wicked step mother, but the truth is - there is not a wicked bone in her body.  She brings happiness to our family and especially to my dad and I have no doubt whatsoever that my mother would be pleased at how Liz loves my dad, but even more so, how she loves his girls.

Today I am beyond grateful for Liz, and for all the bonus family she's brought to me with her.  Our family has grown again, our holidays are happy, and that is something I am incredibly thankful for.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day seventeen

day seventeen - every other wednesday

Every other Wednesday is my favoritest day of the week.  Want to know why?  Well, I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, but what the hey, you know just about all there is to know about me as it is.  Judge if you must.

Every other Wednesday, Gloria comes to my house.  Gloria is my cleaning lady and she has been coming to my house for more than twelve years, every other Wednesday.  My mom originally found Gloria, I'm not even sure where, but through every move and at every home that Big J and I have lived in over the years, Gloria has come without fail.  Every other Wednesday. 

And believe it or not, she has never missed a day in over twelve years of working for me. 

I'm so grateful for Gloria, I can't begin to even tell you.  She is really, really good at what she does, whereas I am not.  I am a really good picker-up-er, and an even better putter-away-er (never to be found again-er) but deep-clean-er, um, unfortunately - no.  And when you're just a bit ADD and you work from home and you can't have mess or clutter around or you get distracted and go off on some tangent and nothing ever gets done, well, believe me when I say that having a Gloria is truly a Godsend.

Periodically, every other Wednesday is difficult because the littles are home.  They try, really hard, I know they do, to stay out of Gloria's way - but, well, they're teenagers and the words clean and teenager are, I am here to tell you, not synonymous.  I spend most of those Wednesdays following them around from room to room encouraging (yes, nagging) them to pick up that thing they just left on the counter or pick up their shoes which are in the middle of the floor...  you get the picture.

Imagine my surprise, today then, when the sounds of music wafted into my office and I realized that my littles were not creating havoc in my soon to be completely clean house, they were instead - sitting in the living room, just hanging out together.  Soon to be adult brother and sister, no fighting, no bickering - just singing and playing the guitar.  Keeping each other busy while Gloria does her thing.

So grateful, honestly.    There are just not enough words in the whole wide world for how I feel about these two.

Every other Wednesday. 

My most favoritest day ever.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day sixteen

day sixteen - kindred souls

Yesterday, I got an email from one of my running partners, Jeff.  It was sent to me, to Steph (our third musketeer), as well as to a few other runner friends that I have made the last ten months or so since I have embraced trail running.

On Saturday, January 28, 2012 come join us for a birthday celebration run.
Who's turning 43?  Melisa Angelone
Where?  "Jody's Run" Class 5 Grade 8
Why?  Because we can, therefore we run
When? TBD 7am?
How do I get to Jody's Run, that starts at Spur Cross Ranch?
http://www.maricopa.gov/parks/spur_cross/Directions.aspx

Please let me know if you are coming so I can include you in future mass mailings. 

Jody's run is rugged and remote and about 25 miles long.  Expect to be on the trail for at least 6 hours and maybe up to 8.  Be self sufficient for the full measure of this run, there will be no aid or potable water.

We will stay together as a team.  If you choose to bolt ahead I cannot be responsible for your demise and WILL NOT return to recover your carcass, that grim task will fall upon those that loved you.

As I read through the email, I couldn't help but smile and be grateful for the people that I've met over the years that, simply put, get me.  Because, while I am certain that there are a lot of people who would think that celebrating their birthday by running twenty five or more miles in the trails, in remote and rugged surroundings, is absolutely, certifiably crazy - JJ realizes that something like this?  Well, something like this is just so right up my alley, its not even funny.

As I look back, I realize just how very blessed I have been over the years with friends and training partners who get this about me and often, who share the same trait - the desire to push ourselves, to test ourselves, to do something epic to celebrate the simple fact that we are alive, we are healthy, and that we can. 

So, today, on a day when I am contemplating getting older (and kind of feeling it just a little bit too), I am beyond grateful for those people - for the wonderful, and just a wee bit crazy, kindred souls that have shared the road, the trails, the pool, the gym and the yoga mat with me.  My life is immensely richer (and to be honest, probably just a bit saner, too) for the time we have spent together. 

much love!

thirty days with a grateful heart - day fifteen

day fifteen - never quit

Frankie loves to play volleyball.  It makes her happy, which in turn, makes me happier than you can even imagine.  To watch as my littles take on something and then give it their all, one hundred and ten percent - well, I think words just wouldn't do my feelings justice. 

On Saturday, her new team had the opportunity to play in a tournament that has come to be known as the 'friendship tournament'.  A nice and relaxed pre-season mixer that allows the girls to get some playing time together and gives them an chance to see how they stack up against some of the other local teams.

Frankie's team had a great day, they played a lot of volleyball and had a lot of fun together, which after the high school season she had, imho, is way more important right now than anything else.  I believe this is going to be a good growing year for all of the girls - they have a solid team, a set of really great coaches, and a good, work hard attitude - and for that I am truly thankful. 

But even after playing five games on Saturday, and after a week of non-stop team practice and three days at crossfit and all the studying for finals she put in, Frankie still wanted to keep her commitment to the private libero lesson we'd scheduled with Michelle for Sunday. 

Michelle knew that Frankie had played the whole day previously, but she still worked her out hard.  She's tough, she refuses to allow the girls to slack and the funny thing is, they don't want to.  They work hard whenever they are scheduled with her.  Frankie was tired when she was done two hours later, but she was ecstatic about how the lesson went and felt like she's really getting the hang of playing defense.

I'd like to think she gets it from me, that desire to be better, to keep improving, to do what she needs to and to never quit.  But, to be honest, I'm not really sure.  I think maybe she is simply the sum of all the really best parts of both Big J and me, minus any of the bad parts to drag her down.   Today, I'm really grateful for that.  Really, really, really grateful. 

thirty days with a grateful heart - day fourteen

day fourteen - rest

I was supposed to run today, long, but I didn't feel like it.  I was tired and maybe its age, maybe its that I am finally getting smarter, whatever - but I listened to my body and instead, I rested.  No running, no crossfit, no yoga, no strength training, no rush rush rush - no nothing.  Just rest.

It was nice.

Sometimes I beat myself up about missing a workout or taking a day where all I do is just hang out.  It feels lazy, almost. Slovenly.  Like if I take that one day, it might turn into two, then three, then four... you get the picture.  I don't like those thoughts, so I just keep going.  Doing.  More.

But then I think that even God had to rest on the seventh day, right?

And if it is good enough for God, it should be good enough for me, right?

And then days like today come, when I'm tired and I need the rest, both physically and mentally, and I actually listen to my body and I get to do things for which I am truly grateful, like watch my baby girl play volleyball all day, or spend time some quality time with Big J, or laugh and joke with Little J without the pressure of having to... go, go, go. 

And I realize that those days are getting fewer and farther between and they will be gone before I know it as my littles head off to college and no matter how much I might fight it, that rest now and then is a good thing.   A really good thing.  Like it was today.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day thirteen

day thirteen - how ruth saves christmas

I am a notorious procrastinator, so when Big J asked me what I was doing on tinyprints.com in early October, and heard my response, creating our Christmas cards, he was quite surprised.

I imagine he would have been even more surprised if the cards had actually shown up at our house the next week, but because I somehow got distracted trying to reach the end of internet and ultimately forgot what I was doing in the first place, he never got the opportunity.

On Monday, we were browsing the Christmas cards we've received this year and he casually asked, are we planning on sending Christmas cards this year?  Yep, this past Monday.   Which, as you can imagine, once I realized half of December was almost over, immediately sent me into a bit of a panic and straight back to tinyprints to finalize my order. 

Which, because it was the middle of December, had to include an extra cost for two day shipping, so that I might have an opporunity to actually get them addressed and in the mail sometime before Christmas.

Fast forward to yesterday morning, and the FedEx man delivered what I thought was my cards.  My plan was to take them with me to Frankie's volleyball game this weekend and address them there, so I set them by my desk and almost didn't open the box.  Which, as you are about to find out, would have been a very, very, very bad idea.

You see, when I opened the box, I found a beautiful card which contained a very sweet picture of...  a little boy about two years old and his pet dog.  Which was very definitely not the picture I had chosen for our Christmas cards.  In fact, I didn't even know the boy.  Or the dog for that matter.  And when I turned over the envelopes to see if there was a return address, the name Ruth appeared in silvery holiday print.

What the heck?  Oh this is not good. 
Immediately, I called tinyprints, and even remained patiently on hold for the full 27 minutes and 54 seconds that the automated operator told me it would take to reach the next available service representative.  And although that service representative seemed very helpful and told me that he would put a rush on my new order, the fact that he couldn't get my name right and the fact that he kept calling me Ruth was a little disconcerting.

I thought about looking Ruth's family up, after all - I had their address, but then I thought that it would be too coincidental that she had gotten my cards while I had gotten hers (and maybe just a tiny bit creepy) so I decided to wait out the second delivery from tinyprints.

About half an hour later, I received a call from a woman who works in Big J's office who said that she had received a very strange call from a woman named Ruth who said she had my Christmas cards.  She kept saying that she thought maybe it was a scam, but that the woman sounded so genuine, that she wanted to pass the phone number along. 

I actually laughed out loud as I thanked her for taking down the number, I assured her it wasn't a scam and that I would phone Ruth back and get it all straightened out.

Apparently, Ruth had called information looking for my number and when she realized it was unlisted, she began calling any Angelone she could find in Scottsdale, Arizona.  When I finally reached her on the phone, we chit chatted like old friends.  I told her I'd called tinyprints to try to get the situation resolved and she said she had tried too but didn't want to wait on hold that long! Then, she said she lived in New York which, of course, had me bringing up incredible memories of our family's trip to the city last year.  I told her that I'd looked at her cards and that I thought her son was too cute and that I was so thankful that she'd called me.  She said she thought my cards were beautiful and wished me a Merry Christmas.

All in all, it was a really nice conversation with a complete stranger, and at a time like Christmas when people can be harried and grumpy and overly stressed by the slightest problem, both Ruth and I actually laughed about the mix up.   After we chatted awhile, Ruth promised to send out my Christmas cards to me, overnight, and I promised the same to her.

So, today - day thirteen - I am filled with a happy kind of gratitude for my new found friend... Ruth.  For saving my Christmas cards.  And more importantly, for making me laugh yesterday.  I truly needed it!

thirty days with a grateful heart - day twelve

day twelve - book worm

I love to read.  I've loved it since I was very small.  I love being able to escape into another person's life, into another time, into another place, if only for a short little while. 

When I was growing up, we weren't allowed to own books.  My father was in the military and each time we moved, we were given a household weight allowance we were required to stay under.  Books were more of a luxury than a necessity so owning them was out of the question.  I have more than made up for that the past few years.

I remember reading Harlequin Romance after Harlequin Romance when I was about twelve.  Somebody, somewhere should have probably stopped me because somehow, I really believe this tainted my view on the reality of romance.  You mean every girl doesn't have some half naked man named Zeke (or Max or Rafe or Blaze) riding up on his white horse (or limousine or private jet or yacht) whisking her off on some passionate adventure every weekend?

In college, I got onto a Stephen King kick and read just about everything he'd written up until that point,  one of the most memorable being the short story called The Long Walk.  I am not quite sure what it was about this story that resonated with me, but it struck a chord and I have often talked about and recommended it to anyone who would listen over the years.  The last Stephen King book I read was IT.  I couldn't sleep for weeks after reading that one so I decided he and I were done.

Sometimes I will go to the library or a book store and just sit for awhile.  I like the smell.

Oprah started a book club way back when and I began to read all of her recommendations.  I enjoyed most all of them because they really allowed me to branch out a bit.  To try something new.  To read an author I might not otherwise have chosen.  The last Oprah selection I read was Anna Karenina.  And to be entirely truthful, I only got through about half of it. 

After Anna Karenina, I got into a bit of a self-help phase.  What I have realized about self-help books, however, is that they are all just variations of the same message.  I'm done with that now and onto biographies.  I want to be able to see self-help in action.

When my littles were young, I would read to them every night before they went to bed.  Their favorites were Goodnight Moon, Make Way for Ducklings and the Goodnight Gecko.   I can still recite parts of each, this many years later.  And each and every time I see a baby duck, I wonder if it is Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack or Quack.

When Frankie was small, she hated to read.  In third grade, we learned that she needed glasses and then in fifth grade, she discovered the Twilight books and now, she is a voracious reader.  I want to complain, but just cannot bring myself to do it each time I see an email from Amazon.com thanking me for my latest Kindle book purchase.   Secretly, it makes me really happy that she shares this love of mine and when I go into her room like yesterday and see her smiling at something she's just read, I simply cannot help but smile myself.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day eleven

day eleven - daddy's girl

This week my therapist wanted to talk a little about my family life growing up, which made me realize that I have written ad infinitum about my momma on this blog, but I have not written very much at all about my dad. 

I've never told you how special a man he truly is.  How loyal, how faithful, how simply... good he is.  The honest to God truth is that my dad is as good a man as the day is long - he really, really, really is - there is just no other way to put it.

I've never told you how he has protected our country or how for years, and through three tours to Vietnam, he has fought, without reservation, for the basic freedoms I take for granted each and every day.

I've never told you how my dad was supposed to be deployed before I was born, or how he made the doctor induced me so that he could see me and hold me, at least once, before he had to go. 

I've never told you how he has supported me.  How he has listened to me.  Or how patient he is.   How he sat through every cheerleader ready-set-ok I ever wanted to show him without rolling an eye. 

I've never told you how I get my love of Indycar, of blackjack, of crosswords and of just about everything football from him.  How we share the same love of church and oh, the same hate for conflict.

I've never told you how much I've learned from him, about kindness and humility.  About how much his respect and love for me has influenced the woman I have become today.


I've never told you about how deeply he loved my mother.  So much so I find it difficult to put into words.  Or, about how incredibly he took care of her once she became ill.  How he would have sold his soul to protect her, to shelter her, from what she had to endure. 

I've never told you about his gentleness when he speaks to me, the sparkle in his eyes when he sees me, or the way that he hugs me that makes me certain I will forever be safe. 

I've never told you how much I love him.  How much I adore him.  How deeply grateful I am that I am his and he is mine.

No, I had never told you any of those things.   Maybe, just maybe, because I didn't need to.  

I'm pretty sure my daddy knows.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day ten

day 10 - rainy days and tuesdays

(the tuesday toeday (that means ten!) edition)

10.  Its raining here in the valley today and believe me when I tell you - there are few things better than the smell of the desert when its raining.  Its almost like God is washing the place clean. 

9.  Frankie has only one final today, which means that she'll be home pretty soon.  What with it being rainy and a teensy bit cold outside, I think our Tuesday afternoon will consist of cozying up on the couch with my little girl and watching a falalala lifetime movie or two. 

8.  I did not melt during my run today.  I was afraid, you know - being made almost completely of sugar and all - that I might.  But, no, I didn't and now I can check that 'can't' right off my list. 

7.  Not only did I not melt, but I didn't even get too muddy.  There are a couple of reasons for this.  One, because I was running around the puddles (which apparently I will need to stop doing if I'm going to be a successful trail runner/pacer extraordinaire says my very knowledgeable ratty running instructor) and two, because (insert sing-song voice) guess who got to be leader today?  ;-)

6.  When I was little and it rained, my dad would round the whole fam-damily up in the station wagon and take us to Baskin Robbins.  I love BR to this day.  Almost as much as I love the rain.  But not nearly as much as I love my dad.

5.  Speaking of my dad...  He was playing golf once in the rain with a friend of his, Mr. Monahan.  As Mr. Monahan got out of the cart to tee off, a bolt of lightening struck him and killed him dead.  My dad never plays in the rain or the lightening anymore, for which I am extremely grateful.

4.  You know that part toward the end of the movie Sweet Home Alabama where Melanie and Jake are on the beach and the rain is coming down in buckets and the lightening is striking fast and furious and she's wearing her wedding dress and he asks her why she wants to be married to him in the first place and she says, so I can kiss you anytime I want?  I like that part.  A lot.

3.  When the monsoon rains hit last summer, we discovered we had a little leak in our bedroom ceiling.  The first roofer I called wanted to charge us $1500 to fix the leak.  Big J thought that was a little outrageous and so he ended up calling a local handy man that fixed it for about $100.  Thank you, kudzu.

2.  I used to think that when it rained, God was crying because He was sad.  Lately, I've been rethinking this whole idea.  Namely because I am a crier of the first degree and I don't always just cry when I'm sad.  In fact, I probably cry less when I'm sad than I do when I'm happy.  I cry an awful lot when I'm happy. 

(proof)

So, since I believe that I was created, fearfully and wonderfully, in God's image, it only stands to reason that He must cry, too, when He is happy.  And that gives me a whole new perspective on rain.

1.   And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down.  Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.  ~G.K. Chesterton

thirty days with a grateful heart - day nine

day nine - deck the halls

I never met Big Johnny's grandma Helen, she died just before we started dating.  But even though I never had the chance to know her in person, each year at Christmastime, I think of her and my heart overflows with gratefulness at the incredible gift she has given us. 

Take a look... 

Almost every ornament on our Christmas tree was made, with love, by grandma Helen.  They are incredible, truly.  Sequins and pushpins and ribbon and pearls.  I can't even begin to imagine the time and patience it took to make them all, and believe it or not - she made four full sets - one for herself and one for each of her children.

Over the years, we have slowly started adding our own additions to our tree, the crafty ornaments the littles have made in school, a bit of ribbon here, a few candy canes, and the ornaments my father passed along to me after my mother's death.  And each year, our tree becomes more and more a blend of both the old and new, a visual metaphor, if you will, of our lives.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day eight

day eight - we are team bemis

Mid-September, our Notre Dame community learned that our head football coach, Scot Bemis, had been diagnosed with cancer, and in a pretty bad way.  Immediately, the school - administration, parents and students alike - rallied around Coach Bemis and created Team Bemis to support and help Coach Bemis and his family during this time in any way that we could.

Every Monday, twice a day, all are invited to pray the rosary for Coach in the school chapel.  On Thanksgiving day, the first annual Bemis Bowl was held and teams comprised of students, alumni, friends and supporters of Coach Bemis competed against eachother to be the first winner of what will likely become an annual event.  A pancake breakfast is in the works, meals have been scheduled, prepared and delivered now for months, and thousands of dollars in donations are being received to help Coach Bemis offset the costs of his treatment.

The outpouring of love and support for Coach Bemis and his family during this time has been awesome to witness, a true testament to the goodness and generosity of our school and its faculty - but also to the incredible compassion our children are capable of, a trait I sometimes think we do not always give them credit for.

Today, Team Bemis in conjunction with Crossfit Magna put on a little friendly competition that they called 'WODS (workout of the day) for Bemis'.  The competition was open to all and promoted in the local crossfit gyms and through facebook.  All in all, sixty-one people competed today in three different divisions, and you know what?  Not many of them even knew Coach Bemis, they simply showed up today to dedicate their workouts to a man going through a really tough time.  To support him in the only way they knew how.

A special division was even created for our high schoolers to give them an opportunity to compete and to allow them to dedicate their workout to the man that has helped coached so many of them over the years.  I think I mentioned that Frankie has been doing crossfit the past month or so and when she heard about the event - without a seconds hesitation, she told me she was doing it.

Personally, crossfit has given me so much confidence and helped me develop strength I didn't even know I could possess, and now it is doing that same thing for Frankie and I couldn't be more excited for her.  Well, and maybe just a teensy big proud.  My girl took third place in the girls' high school division!  ;) 

Today, I am grateful to count myself among the crossfit community and even more so, to be able to say with certainty on behalf of Crossfit Magna, Crossfit480 and all the crossfit gyms represented today...

WE ARE TEAM BEMIS!

thirty days with a grateful heart - day seven

day seven - just happy to be here

Have you ever had one of those days where you wake up and the first thing that goes through your mind, before the running tally of what has to be accomplished, before the mad dash to switch on the coffee maker, before any of that, is - wow, I am just glad to be alive today?

Honestly, I haven't recently.  Not that I am not grateful, to be alive that is, because I am.  Very much so.  I am extremely grateful to be well and healthy and that my family is well and healthy and that my friends are well and healthy.  You get the picture.

No, I guess what I am saying is that although I have been grateful, I really haven't spent much time thinking about being grateful.  And with the exception of this last seven days, I haven't spent that much time expressing being grateful either.  I get so caught up in getting accomplished what needs to be accomplished each day that sometimes, it seems like I forget the little things.  And oftentimes, the big things too.  Like saying thank you.  Like saying I am grateful.

I was thinking that maybe that's just what this gratitude project is all about.  Taking the time to stop and smell the roses, if you will.  Taking a minute or two or twenty each day, to just be grateful and to express that gratitude aloud, in words, and not just in thought - for the big, and the small, the important and the seemingly not so important.

What a difference it has made in my life already, I'm here to tell you.  I feel more, aware of what is going on around me, if that makes any sense at all.  And, honestly, not only has it made a difference in my life, but it kind of seems to be rubbing off on my family and to some extent, on my friends, as well. 

Which in and of itself is kind of cool, don't you think?  Kind of like a pay it forward kind of thing? 

Ya, exactly like that. 

Today?  Easy peasy.  Today, I am just totally glad to be alive.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day six

day six - baby it's cold outside

The past few days, when I open up facebook in the morning, I am inundated with status updates from my fellow Arizonans lamenting the cold weather.  They make me laugh out loud.  Don't get me wrong, it is cold outside, especially in the early mornings, compared to what the temperatures are say, mid-August.  But, I have to be honest, I would take this weather any day, any way, any how, over the weather this time of year in places like Detroit or Boston or Chicago.. or, eek, Buffalo. 

Because, in case you weren't aware, it is really cold there.  Like, really, really cold.  So cold that the lakes freeze over and you have to use a scraper thingie to get the ice off the windshield of your car in the mornings, that is if you can get to your car past the snow piled up six feet high in your front lawn, and the power goes out and you have to sleep in your parka to keep warm, because everyone has a parka in those places because its sooo cold, and as if all that weren't enough, I learned the other day that you have to wear spikes on your running shoes so you don't fall and bust your butt while you're trying to get some exercise.  Can you imagine?  Nope, me neither. 

So, while you'll never hear me complain about how flippin' cold it is in Arizona, because it actually is a leeetle cold and feels even more so since we have all become reptilian here in this state, I would like you all to know that I have had to wear long sleeves the past few weeks while I've been running at 5 am.  Because, even though it is 60 degrees at noon, which , btw, is really lovely, it is still only 36 degrees at 5 am.

That all being said, finding the right long sleeve has had me in a bit of a tizzy of late.  I bought a Nike long sleeve t-shirt, which was just fine for last week's runs when the low was about 46 degrees.  But with the slight dip in temperatures we're experiencing this week, I knew the Nike wasn't going to cut it.

Enter crossfit. 

No, really, crossfit.  I swear there is going to be a point to this story. 

I take the seven am class three days a week at Crossfit480, which I absolutely love.  For awhile, I was the only girl in my class, which on one hand was pretty nice if you get my drift ;-), but on the other hand, not so nice because the boys in my class are all in shape.  No, seriously, in shape.  Just trust me on this one. 

Just recently, however, some girls have joined our class, which is awesome!, and in listening to them talk, I realized they just happened to work at lululemon.  Lululemon is a clothing store that is probably most recognizably known for yoga clothing and while I'd shopped there during my yoga phase, I had never even thought about going there for crossfit clothing.  Because, unfortunately for me, and even more unfortunately for all the guys in my class, when I go to crossfit, I'm not making a fashion statement.  In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if there is some picture of me in Cosmo, decked out for crossfit, with a big ole DON'T slapped right smack across my face. 

So, enter in these cutie patootie young girls who work at lululemon and who are not only working up a sweat, but being awesomely stylish at the same time, and well, you see where I am going with this?  Yep.  I had to go to lululemon.  Fast.  And luckily for me, but maybe not so much for my wallet, there just so happens to be a store about a mile from crossfit.  Seriously, what are the odds??

As I wandered around the lulu store, I really thought I'd died and gone to heaven.  Not only did the clothes feel soft and comfy, like you could put them on and wear them forever and ever and ever, but they also didn't look like work out clothes.  You know what I mean?  They're... dare I say it?  Ok, it is me after all, you get what you get.  They're... pretty!  They're fitted and flattering and, oh my God, they come in colors like paris pink and persian purple and silver spoon! 

I picked up a few things that I knew would be perfect for crossfit, and had just about made it out the door, when I noticed this...

Be still my heart!  First, you have to know that I am a sucker for anything pink, and second, its a running top.  A long-sleeve running top.  With just a little bit of some sort of really soft stuff on the inside that I knew would be oh, so perfect, for our colder mornings.  Especially at 5 am. 

This morning, I got a chance to try it out for about ninety minutes in the pmp and all I can say is that it is even better than I hoped.  Way, way, way better.  It kept me warm, but not too warm, and whatever kind of fabric its made of, it also kept me dry.  Which, as you know, when its cold and you're runnin' and sweatin' up a storm, can be kind of a problem.  In fact, this top is so awesome, that believe it or not, I'm still wearing it going on three hours later.  And yes, I know that's kind of yucky, but honestly, its soooo soft and comfy, I don't think I'll ever take it off.   Ever.

Maybe, I should have gotten two.

(and, just in case you didn't get the gratitude part of this post - 1.  that there is no snow where i live in arizona and that i can run outside sans spikes all year long and 2.  that sweet lulu was so thoughtful to make this top especially for little ole me and last, but certainly not least 3. for the girls in my crossfit class, who are a host of fashion sense and a hoot to work out with.)

thirty days with a grateful heart - day five

day five - the differences between us

When I was five, Katie Riley became my very first best friend.  We had a lot in common, Katie and me, we were both in kindergarten, we both liked Shawn Cassidy, and we both thought our younger siblings were kind of annoying.  At five, I'm fairly certain that this is precisely what brings girls together in the first place.  Well, that and, probably even more importantly, the fact that she just happened to live two doors down and that our parents liked to hang out together.

Later on, the same was true for some of my future best friends.  We tended to participate in the same sports, we had similar interests, similar beliefs.  We were in the same class, lived on the same street, rode the same bus, liked the same movies, hung out with the same crowd.  The friendships were easy, perhaps a bit shallow, but much the norm for that time in our lives.

For awhile, when I was a new mom, my friendships revolved around the littles, and were with women that had children, too.  We could relate to each other, we shared the same burdens.  There was common ground, common needs, and a sense of always being in the same, sleep-deprived, boat. 

As I have gotten older, however, as my interests have waxed and waned, as my life has evolved and my littles have grown, so too have my friendships evolved.  No longer are my friendships built solely on interest or proximity.  In fact, I have very few friends that live close and even fewer that enjoy the same activities that I enjoy. 

No, more often than not I am finding that now it is actually our differences that bring my friends and I together.  As I have gotten older, as I've become more and more comfortable in my own individuality, my willingness to learn from and share with another has been what has attracted me to these new friendships.  These friendships make life interesting.  They open new worlds to me.   They challenge me often, requiring me to be present, to use my voice, to open my heart.

Sometimes we do like some of the same things - OneRepublic or a head-clearing long run through the trails, a good glass of Pinot or that gotta-have-it stacked black pump.  But, as my mind wanders through those few, precious women that I cherish and have dared to term bff, more often than not, I realize they are (gratefully!) as different from me as, say, water and oil... black and white...

diet coke and tea. 

thirty days with a grateful heart - day four

day four - the views from the top

(of the jjonb)

Tuesdays are one of my favorite run days.  On Tuesdays, we run the jjonb which stands for JJ (Jeff Jones, my running partner who created the route) out and back.  I'll be honest though, I haven't always liked Tuesdays.  Especially when I first started running with JJ and had to walk the majority of each of the five big uphills on the route while he and Steph kept getting further and further away from me.  And then I hated it even worse when I came back from California this summer and it was six thousand degrees outside, even at 5 am, and not only could I not even begin to run the uphills, I was doing a pretty good job of stinking it up on the downhills, too. 

But then September came.  And finally, after religiously running the same route Tuesday in and Tuesday out for six months, something clicked.  And it has continued to click.  And now I can run, unbroken, all of the ups except the tip top of the first peak from the 32nd street trailhead.  And I can run every bit of all of the downs, even the rockies, even in the dark.  And, on days like today, when the weather is crisp, and the company is good, and the running comes easy, and I am at peace - on days like today - I like to look around, take in the view from the top, and be grateful that I am right where I am.  Right where I am supposed to be.  It's all good.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day three

day three - falalala lifetime

Ah.  Lifetime.  I heart Lifetime.  Especially at the holidays.

No, I'm not talking about Lifetime Fitness, although, actually, I did used to (kindof) heart LT last year when I was (kindof) training for Ironman and I used to (kindof) swim (which I so did NOT heart) there on volleyball practice nights.  Well, that was until they wanted to charge me a single daypass fee of $30 last week when it was dark and raining and I was feeling wimpy and didn't want to get my new running shoes all wet.  Or my hair for that matter.  So I dropped Frankie off and headed over there and $30 for a day pass?  Puhlease!  I asked the receptionist what US Fitness charged, which just so happened to be right next door, she said she didn't know, but I am pretty sure she did too know (it was $15) and that she probably thought (wrong!), what with it raining and all, and what with me being all dressed to workout and all, that I'd just shell out the $30.  You'll be glad to know that I most certainly did not because, well, hello?  I could have my hair washed and dried by a professional for $30. 

Wait, where was I?

Oh yes, Lifetime.  I heart Lifetime.  You know - the tv channel?

For at least a couple of hours most weekends the month of December, you can find me and oftentimes both me and Frankie, in front of the television watching the Christmas movies on Lifetime.   Seriously, I've seen them all...  A Diva's Christmas Carol, Home for the Holidays, The Holiday Switch, the Road to Christmas, Dear Santa.   You name it, we've seen it.  A few times.  Ok, maybe more than a few times.

There aren't many shows that I make much of an effort to watch - and most definitely not at the time they are actually shown, thank goodness for the DVR - so the fact that I can sit, sometimes for hours (and hours) on end, watching sappy Christmas movies is rather... interesting.    Especially considering that each and every one is just a slight variation of the other - a story about some sort of a crisis or catastrophe that, incredibly, miraculously, is completely resolved to the joy and happiness of all by the approaching Christmas holiday.

Homeless people find shelter.  A widowed, lonely man finds a wife.  An orphan is adopted.  The wicked witch boss develops a giving heart.  A secret wish comes true.

I heart them.  Every single one.  You know why? 

I heart them because I know, every December, I can snuggle up with my girl in a comfy chair, and have my faith in the simple goodness of life restored.  That happiness will happen for us.  That Santa exists if we say he does.  That love is right around the next corner.  And that no one has to be alone.  Especially on Christmas.

falalala lifetime! 

thirty days with a grateful heart - day two

day two - my littles

I'd heard stories about what it was like to have children. You know those stories, the ones about how you will love them so much, how you would do anything in your power to protect them, to care for them, to grow them.  I had heard them all and I remember thinking, absolutely, I will love them.  Of course, I will love them.  But, I have to be honest with you, I don't think I completely understood the depth or breadth, the sheer and utter magnitude, of that kind of love until the very moment I held Little J in my arms for the first time.

I have loved people in my life.  I mean, really, really loved them.  I love Big J, more than I think he will ever know.  I love my parents, my family, my friends.  We all have people in our lives that we say we love, truly, madly, deeply, but as I looked down at Little J, and again at Frankie on the day she was born, in those moments, the meaning of mother's love became clear.  Very simply, my heart was no longer my own.  It belonged to them, to my littles, wholly and completely, and it will until the day I take my very last breath. 

God made me, exactly how he made me, so that I could be their mother.  He made me to care for them, to cherish and hold them, to teach them and guide them and grow them up in this world.  He made me specifically to love them.  He knew just exactly what they would need.  He knew that they would need me and that only I would do. 

And yet, for as much as they needed me and only me, He knew just exactly what I needed as well.  He knew that I would need littles that would challenge me, that would make me think, that would question me, listen to me, exasperate me to no end and make me swell with pride, oftentimes in the very same instant.  He knew that I needed littles who would hug me and allow me to hug them, in private, in public, no matter when or where the mood strikes.  He knew I needed littles who could tell me they were sorry, who would hold my hand, who would make me laugh out loud, who would sing with me, pray with me, listen to me, walk with me, share with me, break my heart and mend it back up again, littles who would love... me.

God knew. 

He knew I needed Little J, exactly as he is.  He knew I needed Frankie, precisely as she is.  Deep down, I know He knew because He knows everything, and yet, each day I cannot help but marvel at the absolute perfectness of it all. 

He knew. 

And today, for that, and for them, for my littles, I am so very, very grateful.  Especially today.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day one

A sweet friend of mine, after reading my post yesterday, led me to the blog of  one of her friends who, for the last few years during the month of December, has embarked on what, imho, is a truly incredible and life changing journey. 

Each year, each December, this blogger begins a series she calls 30 Days with a Grateful Heart.  For the last thirty days of the year, she takes a little time each day to reflect on what she is most grateful for in her life.  Some of these gratitudes are small.  Some are silly and fun.  Some are deeper and have incredible feeling that encompass their telling.  And yet, all of them, every single one, speak directly from her heart - a heart that has learned to be... grateful.

Along her journey, she has encouraged others to participate - to take a moment or two each day the month of December, to peek into their own lives and find something each day to be grateful for.  Some days this will be easy.  When all is going well and life is happy, happy, happy - gratitude is abundant.  But, some days it seems as if the world is conspiring against our happiness.  Some days, we might wonder what in the world we could possibly be grateful for.  I believe, even during these days, especially during these days, an endeavor like this can change us, bring us back to what we know to be true and ultimately, what is truly important.

William Arthur Ward once said that Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.  Go figure, I am a gift giver.  My primary love language, based on the book The Five Love Languages, is gifts.  I don't know if you are surprised by this, but Big J was most definitely not.  So, with that being the case, I have decided, that for the month of December, this journey will be a little gift that I give to myself.  A little thirty day Christmas present, if you will.  You are welcome to join me, and perhaps along the way you will find that my words might also be a little gift to you, as well.

day one - my blog

Since 2006, blogging has been a savior to me.  I've never been one to write in a journal, I've tried it a few times and each time, I have gotten frustrated and quit after just a few entries.  Considering that I obviously do not seem to have a problem with self reflection or introspection, I think primarily for me, it was the hand-written aspect of journaling that made me unsuccessful at it, as silly as that might sound. 

Most times, when I sit down to write on my blog, my thoughts are racing a million miles a minute and attempting to capture those thoughts long hand, well, you get the picture.  But, when I discovered blogging, all that frustration just melted away.  All of a sudden, there was a place where I could express all the feelings and emotions of my heart, in type written form.  For me to reflect on, for others to share.  A place where my fingers can almost keep up with the ideas swirling around in my head and clamoring to be let loose.

Besides allowing me to express myself, my blog has also brought me friendships that I treasure.  Friendships that I believe without a doubt I will cherish until the day I die.  Through my blog, I've met so many incredibly special people, people that enrich my life each and every day.  If I never write another word, I will ever be grateful for the simple gift of those friendships.

My blog has allowed me to grow, to cry, to laugh, to wonder, to vent, to explore, to learn, and in more ways than one, blogging has allowed me to heal.  Putting my most private thoughts into a public forum has at times, been awfully scary, but I have to tell you that in doing so, more than anything, blogging has allowed me to feel.  To feel happiness, to feel love, to feel friendship and joy and laughter and maybe even just a teensy bit of sorrow now and then.  That being able to feel proves to me, each and every day, that I am indeed, still alive, that neither my head nor my heart nor my soul, and least of all my body, are dead.  And I don't know about you, but for me - that is just about all I can hope for some days.

So, yes, my blog.  Today, and especially today, my heart is overflowingly grateful for my blog.