Virtual Glass of Wine. (or cup of coffee)

If we were having a glass of wine (or a cup of coffee) I would tell you...

That...this whole buying a house process is intense. TC and I are happy to say that the inspection is over and the financing is all approved too. It looks as if the road to officially owning our forever home is full of green lights and will be ours at the end of November!

I can't wait to give y'all the full tour.

That...I've just finished up editing two photo sessions and have two more scheduled for this weekend.

Meet sweet Molly. She was so much fun to photograph and her cute little face just melts my heart.





I'm thinking that if these sessions all go as well as I hope than I may finally make myself a little Facebook page. Or maybe something on a different platform. Maybe another blog. To me, it's a big move and I want to be ready to commit to making myself a little business.

(seriously, how cute are the lamb ears?)





The extremist in me wants everything to be perfect and gorgeous and have a beautiful professional web page and tons of fancy equipment...but the realist says to start small and just start!

But then there is the chicken in me who says what if it doesn't work? What if no one likes my page? What if I don't have time?





I need the chicken to be quiet and go back to the farm. Please and thank you.

That...along with the gym wagon, I also seem to have fallen off the blogging wagon. I'm not sure how or why, but I have. There has been so much going on lately that I just can't seem to get it on the blog. In all fairness, most of the chaos isn't remotely interesting. So, you're welcome.

On the other hand, I am envisioning lots of fun projects and DIY with the new house which will make for some good blogging. Seriously, it's got some kickin' country/80's motif going on - I see some more painting in my future. So much yellow...

So, tell me. Is there anything that you've wanted to do but have been too scared of failure to even try?

Public Service Announcement.

Ahhhh...so much in my head right now. About life. About how it's hard... About how the sailing is never smooth...and that storms can come up at a moment's notice...and how they can disappear just as rapidly. And that storm you sailed through today? Yeah, there will be more. And maybe they won't be as severe...but maybe they will be even bigger and the storm you just fought wasn't all that bad. Even though it seemed like your sails were about to shred to pieces...you persevered. And you will again.

It's life. It's hard.





Perspective. That's where it is at.

Today in a fifth grade classroom we talked about hurtful words. The teacher told the students to imagine a  piece of wood. It can be gleaming mahogany or a piece of scrap lumber. Now imagine that you pick up your hammer and pound a nail into the wood. Then tomorrow you hammer in another nail. Then maybe another one this weekend and another nail next month. Now, take your hammer and pull the nails out. How's the wood looking? It's still the same size and it's still the same color. But it is peppered with holes. The nails were the hurtful words and actions. And while apologies may have pulled the nails out of the wood, just as the hammer did, the wood is no longer the same.

Glennon, the writer of the Momastery blog, is celebrating today and reduced the price of her book to less than $4. As a long time blog follower, I took the opportunity and bought Carry On, Warrior this afternoon. Then I promptly curled up in my bed and read almost all of it today. I was having a rotten day for no good reason. I couldn't bring myself to vacuum, I couldn't bring myself to make the phone calls that need making. All I could do was lay in bed and read. In the book Glennon talks about the worst day of her sister's life - the day her marriage ended. She talks about how for months she did everything she could to protect her sister. She talks about the right things to say and the common catchphrases you should never use when faced with your loved one's catastrophes.

And then I read Katie's blog about how last week she ranted and complained and everything was wrong and the world was surely ending. Today she deleted that post and took a new stance - a stance where all the same problems and stress exist but she was choosing a new outlook and a new attitude.





Eventually, I pulled myself out of bed and put on my workout clothes. I didn't want to, but deep down I knew that for me the gym always makes me feel better. Tonight it made me feel great. For over an hour I pounded on the treadmill and thought about everything I had read and thought today. And I came home feeling better. I had  gained just a little bit of perspective, which seems like a lot when you start with none. As the evening wore on I was able to get a bit more perspective and hopefully passed on a smidge of it to another soul that was in need.

This has been your public service announcement for the day. You're welcome.

Big Day.

Watch out! I am on a roll. I took the day off from work today and knocked out so much of my to-do list that I barely know what to do with myself. I feel like a celebratory glass of wine is in order.

I love days like today.

Now, I'm no slacker. I had a good reason to take the day off. I've been meaning to have a mole removed from my eyebrow for years and I finally had my appointment today. This is Canada, so it took me almost a year and half to get the appointment but my dermatologist was great and it cost me almost nothing. Because it was cosmetic it wasn't free, but it was awfully close.

I also hit up the optometrist and got myself some shiny new navy glasses. Fun, right? A little different, a little big, a fun color - exactly the look I want in reading glasses. Can you see my little bandage poking out behind the glasses?

The good news is that my vision isn't terrible. The bad news is that my eyeballs are sun damaged. I guess that means that my obsession with sunglasses is warranted and I can forever justify buying fancy glasses. It should also serve as a lesson to all of us - eyeballs can be irreversibly sunburned causing them to become bumpy and/or yellow. Ain't nobody got time for that.

In other news, my awesome new scarf is from Aldo just in case you need a little retail therapy today.

I should also tell you that in recent months I have fallen completely off the fitness wagon. When I say fallen, I mean taken a flying leap, rolled down the road into a ditch and have been laying in the mud eating pizza ever since. So, yeah. I've been lazy.

But, dare I say, I think I'm getting back in my groove. The wagon is still a ways down the road, but at least I'm on my feet. After 45 solid minutes of cardio tonight I remembered why I love the gym.

Work is back on the agenda for tomorrow. That means I'll be surrounded by fifth graders that are in an intensive French program. They only refer to me as Madame now. It's the weirdest thing when you don't recognize your own name. Where did Mrs. G go? Who is Madame?!

I hope they still recognize me now that my face will be symmetrical for the first time in my life.

I'll leave you with this. All of my favorite mantras in one place. The last one is the most important.

Happy Wednesday!

The Stratosphere of Chaos.

It's Wednesday. Typically, my favorite night of the week. However, tonight was a little on the bittersweet side.

So much has been going over the past few days. Where do I even begin?





Let's back track a bit, shall we? There are four major things that have been consuming my life in the past week. In no particular order:

1. Getting an interview for a teaching job (that isn't an ACTUAL teaching job mind you, just the list of people that could potentially get a teaching job if one should ever open up).

c. Repainting, fixing up and finding new renters for our first floor apartment (remember, we own a triplex house and our tenants of the past ten years moved out, dammit).

5. Packing up and tying up lose ends so I can leave for my summer job at camp in Maine. On Monday.

3. Fighting the most persistent and headache-inducing sinus infection this side of the Mississippi.


I don't know where 2, 4, a and b went. Into the stratosphere of chaos that I call my life, I suppose.

Here's where I stand as of this very moment: I have a teaching interview. However, during the days that I was waiting to hear word on whether or not I got an interview, I had a major meltdown. Like the kind where you question the meaning of life and consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, you should go eat worms.

During that meltdown I found solitude in the hours and hours I spent painting the entire downstairs apartment...which lead to us finally securing a new set of tenants this afternoon! Thank goodness, the mortgage will be paid.

On the other hand, I'm leaving for the summer in exactly four days and not only have I not packed one iota of clothing, I haven't even made a damn packing list or done laundry.

Also, I have enough oral, nasal and eye antibiotics to wipe out an entire country.

So. Tomorrow begins the list. Lists of what I need to get done. Lists for what to bring to the Birthday Extravaganza this coming weekend. Lists of what to pack for the summer. And, finally, lists of all the things that I need to present at my interview - in Power Point format.

Should be fun, no?





Tonight was our last Why Not Wednesday of the year. Instead of sipping wine at our usual hole-in-the-wall, we chowed down on Chinese at Jaclyn's house and ohhhed and ahhhed over baby Zara. She has the biggest smile and biggest blue eyes of all time.





We changed up our routine tonight because we had to get Jaclyn to the airport so she could catch her flight to Peru! She's heading out on the adventure of a life time where she'll spend two weeks exploring Machu Picchu, Lima and Cuzco. I know she was feeling a little jittery with all of the anticipation, but she was more prepared for this trip than I have ever been on all of my trips combined - and I'm an organized person!

By the time she gets back from her adventure Annie and I will already be galavanting through Maine. That means our weekly Wednesday meetings are on hold until September when we will all be back in town.

Oh, we will have so many good stories to share by then. Let the adventures begin.





Also, shout out to TC who has been my rock through the chaotic days. He's pretty great.

And the cool photos? Courtesy of the rockin' new app from the blog A Beautiful Mess. Search 'Beautiful Mess' in your app store and you too can have fun phrases, doodles, borders and filters :) You can even upload from there to Facebook and Instagram. Elsie and Emma are pretty talented.

The Long Road To Teach.

I didn't grow up wanting to be a teacher. I didn't grow up wanting to be anything other than an astronaut,  really. Flying through space and looking at the stars sounded like a pretty good gig to me.

In college, I didn't have any career goals either. I floated around, switching majors like it was my job. Hotel management? Sure! Journalism? Awesome. How about a dash of pre-nursing? Sounds great.

Eventually, I settled on Microbiology because I was so infatuated with the gross and gory diseases that I had seen on Discovery channel documentaries. The problem with Microbiology is that it doesn't lend itself to many careers other than medicine, which was just not in the cards for me.

Once I had that shiny degree in my hot little hands I found low-paying, long-hour jobs as a lab researcher. Then I moved on to more exciting things like bartending. That was a low point. My friends and family just stood back and hoped that I would eventually do something a little more productive, perhaps something that would put to use the degree that I had worked so hard for.

Finally, a good friend sat me down and told me to get it together and do something more exciting with my life. Right there at a Starbucks in Atlanta, I made a phone call to my summer camp boss in Florida and asked if he could help me get into teaching. Suddenly, being a science teacher seemed like the perfect path for me.

A month later I moved to Florida. I had lots of friends there, all teachers and all from my summer job, and they showed me the way. After a few exams, a lot of paperwork and a few months of substitute teaching I had my very own classroom and a certificate that said the state of Florida trusted me to teach - as long as I took education courses at night.

I taught there for two years and felt like I had finally found my calling. I worked late every night prepping lessons and grading papers. I spent many a night banging my head against the wall trying to figure out how on Earth I was going to survive the next day. How do I get these children to behave? How do I make them care about the inside of an animal cell? How on Earth do I explain to them how bacteria reproduce?!

In between my head banging sessions, I did the only other thing I knew how to do - I loved my kids and did everything in my power to build a good relationship with them. I figured that if they liked me and if they trusted me, then maybe they would listen to me and work in my class.

And, for the most part, they did. We had a blast. We built stuff, we dissected animals, we made messes, we played trivia and had fun while we did science. Sure, they needed a lot of discipline but they also got a lot of encouragement too. Every day was a perfect balance of huge highs and deep lows. I loved it.

While all of this was going on, I would go home at night and toil through my education courses that the state required for my temporary teaching certificate to magically become a professional teaching certificate. And let me tell you, many tears were shed over those courses. There were days that I thought it was never going to end.

But it did. I finished my courses and was granted my certificate just in time for me to pack up and move to Canada. Impeccable timing, right?

Surely, I thought, Canada will recognize my accomplishments and let me teach.

HA! Not even a little bit. Canada kindly sent me a letter saying that my application for certification was denied. They were also gracious enough to include a laundry list of their requirements which I would need to complete. Chief among them - a full bachelors degree in education. My Florida courses didn't count for anything. My teaching experience didn't count for anything in their eyes. I had to start over.

It took me a while to process this new turn of events and wrap my head around it. For months I refused to apply to an education program because I was mad. How was I going to pay for this? They wanted me to go back to school full time for two years for another bachelors degree?! No.

Whew. I was an angry, angry woman.





Eventually, I bit the bullet and enrolled. Thankfully, the University of Maine offered an education program that met Canada's requirements. Plus, I could take my classes online which meant that I could work while I was doing it.

That's what I've been doing for the past two years. Taking four or five classes at a time and working in the elementary schools by day.





This past Christmas I was done with my classes and was ready to start my internship. My assignment was to teach advanced biology in high school for two months and then teach an 8th grade alternative class for the next eight weeks. Even though I had experience in middle school, these were both new teaching environments that challenged me.

Tuesday was my last day. We celebrated big time at school. The kids helped grill hamburgers, we ate hot dogs, cake and ice cream. My class even gave me a framed group photo that they all signed. You know that it's going right up on the wall of my laundry room. It's a shrine to all things of sentimental value.





While finishing my internship was a big deal, I still had one more hurdle to jump. In the state of Maine, teachers are required to take a content knowledge test in their area of expertise before they'll award your teaching certification. In my case, that happened to be a biology test. A very, very intense biology test. It's the kind of test you can't really study for. It's notoriously difficult and every academic advisor under the sun will tell you to take it at the beginning of your degree. That way when you fail it over and over you haven't already poured your time and money into the courses that won't mean anything because you can't pass the stupid test. It happens all too often, they tell you. Take it early and be prepared.

Well, I didn't listen and chose to take it after my classes were completed. Why do things the easy way? That's not fun.





I packed a bag to make the trip to Maine yesterday. It's a four hour drive to campus and I only planned on going for the day. Just to be safe I gave myself seven hours to get there. I packed a change of clothes just in case I failed and would then be too inconsolable to drive back.

I was nervous for the exam but also excited for the drive. I love a good solo road trip. Windows down, sun roof open, iPod blasting and singing at the top of my lungs. I cruised down the highway and only listened to songs that brought back happy memories. Lionel Ritchie and Stevie Wonder reminded me of childhood road trips. Coldplay reminded me of late night talks in college. Metallica reminded me of long hours working in the lab. Lynyrd Skynyrd reminded me of Tennessee football games. Tupac reminded me of high school parties. Kelly Clarkson and Alanis Morisette reminded me of camp. I'm telling you, my awesome taste in music knows no bounds.





As you can imagine, there isn't much going on in rural Maine. It's farm country. Lots of potatoes, lumber, wind mills, cemeteries, mom n' pop businesses, fishing boats and tractors. A lot of the houses are run down with For Sale signs in the yards. The fire station has one truck and the post office isn't much bigger than my closet. But it's beautiful country. Maine has the most blue skies and the fluffiest clouds I've ever seen.





I rolled into campus nice and early. To keep my nerves calm I wondered around with my camera for a bit and then popped into the book store to pick up some UofM memorabilia. I won't be at my actual graduation, but that's not going to stop me from wearing my tassel and holding up an old-school pennant at the party I'm going to throw for myself.





When it came time for the test I nervously ventured into the basement classroom where I was given a number two pencil and some scratch paper. I went through the metal detector and pulled up my sleeves to prove that I wasn't a cheater. Then I sat down and took the most broad and detailed test I've ever seen.

When I was done I breathed a sigh of relief and looked at the clock. Eleven seconds remained. I held my breath as they ticked by, waiting for my final score to pop up on the screen.

Unceremoniously, a 167 flashed. I only needed a 150 - I had passed with flying colors.

I did a small happy dance and pranced right out of that classroom feeling like a million bucks. I was officially done.

Just like that, I am a teacher. Again.

It's been a long journey and I know that it isn't over yet. But for now this chapter is complete and I can move on to that part about finding a job...and then actually teaching again. There are so many people that have believed in me and supported me through it. To all of them - thank you.

 As Elle Woods so famously squealed at the end of Legally Blonde, "We did it!"

This Isn't About Coffee. Or Wine.

First, let's discuss the Boston Marathon tragedy today. It just makes me sick. My heart breaks for those affected and my fists want to punch those responsible. And then maybe kick them. Hard. AND THEN send them to rot in jail for life. 

(Okay, maybe I wouldn't actually kick them. That doesn't solve anything. But I would want to. Really bad.)

I just can't understand who would do such a thing. It boggles the mind.

My dad is an avid runner. Like, he's the crazy dude who is up at 5am every morning, cranking our six miles like it's nothing. And it isn't to him. I bet he doesn't even break a sweat anymore. The man laughs in the face of a half marathon. He trains for marathons, but not much. He just runs them, like no big deal.

He's the kind of runner I aspire to be one day.  Which, by the way, might actually happen if I could get my butt motivated to put on my damn running shoes...

For the last -ummmm- million years, he runs two marathons a year - always in different states and new cities. Last year he crossed Seattle off his list and the year before that he checked off Portland Maine in the middle of a nor'easter storm. He's run Boston several times and I think it will always have a special place in his heart because it is such a personal accomplishment. 

I vividly remember drawing out a gigantic sign that said "Congratulations Scott!" I wish could remember which neighbor or family friend or grandparent was responsible for that sign. We attached each end of the sign to yard sticks and hammered them into the front lawn. As I recall, that sign stretched clear across the yard for my dad to see when he returned home from his first Boston trip.

I was just a kid, but I knew the importance of that marathon. 

And I've got to tell you, I'm so grateful that he didn't run it this year.

Dad? Are you listening? I'm glad you're sitting in your green recliner at home right now.

Anyway, the point of this post was to ramble on about all the fun Annie and I had this weekend. But somehow that just seems silly to talk about today. Really, all we did was drink a bunch of coffee and wine - not important or unusual.

At least now you know why there are photos of a coffee shop and not Boston or my dad. Sorry about that.

Sending all of my good thoughts down to Boston....

Tomorrow I'll dust off the ole running shoes.

If We Were Having A Glass Of Wine...

Tonight is Wednesday, which means I just got home from my weekly girls night. We meet at a cute little hole in the wall called the Laundromat.

You guessed it, the place used to be full of washers and dryers but now serves a full bar and good brews. Not to mention, our Wednesday night bartender is great. He knows us by name and what we each drink. Beer for Annie, white wine for Jaclyn, beer for Ashley, red wine for me and a dish of salty cheese for the table. I look forward to hump day every week.

We chat about everything and nothing all at the same time. But, if I could dominate conversation, here's what I would tell you.

I got one of the best notes I've ever received from a student this week. Not because it was cute or sweet, but because it was ridiculous. Suffice to say that it involved the words, "im sorry i hide ur lunch in the ceiling."

Yes, middle school boys are hilarious and think it is funny to hide watermelon in the ceiling tiles.

Please remember that I work with behaviorally challenged children.

I got a new pair of cheap sunglasses this week. They're way more fashionable than I am, but I love them so much. They make me feel fun and free. Which, obviously, is the best feeling in the world.

I'm desperately trying to lose my winter weight. Every spring I seem to find myself in this same position. Maybe one day I'll learn not to gain twenty pounds every winter. Until then, I'm enjoying a lovely lunch of pineapple every day (that is, on the days it doesn't get shoved in the ceiling) and busting my tail at the gym every night.

You know you've reached a new low when a student asks if you're pregnant....and you're only preggo with a birthday cake baby.

The rowing machine? It's my new best friend.

TC? Are you there? I miss hanging out on the couch with you. 

Also, I'm in the middle of revamping my resume. It's been collecting dust for several years now and the revision process is about as fun as a colonoscopy. Not that I've ever had a colonoscopy, but I imagine they're about the same level.

On the sunnier side, we're heading to the maple sugar shack this weekend. I'm desperately in need of some time in the woods with my favorite people. It's like our annual pilgrimage for sugar.

It's a safe bet that I'll be rocking my new sunglasses.

I also just finished reading Bloom, which is a fabulously written book about a mother who's baby was born with a small surprise - an extra chromosome! Children with Down's Syndrome are so amazing. The book was a great read. The mom, Kelle Hampton, has an amazing blog that you can see here. It's called Enjoying the Small Things.

I love my Why Not Wednesdays, which is the official name for our evenings. I always bring a treat from the bar home for TC to make up for my absence.

And while I savor every minute of talking about whatever is going on in our lives, my favorite part is that it is with a group of friends that I have found all on my own. If you've ever moved to a new city, you know what I'm talking about. The friends I've made through TC are the best. Seriously, they are. But there is something about having a group of friends that have been found independently. They're also the best.

Good Lord, I'm one lucky girl.

Three Years!

Today marks three years that TC and I have been married. I was pretty sure that it was three years, but TC thought it may have been four years so we double checked the math.

Yup, it's been three years.

It's funny how you can loose track of time like that. In some ways it feels like we just got married yesterday. In other ways it feels like we've been married for decades. 

We got married on Easter weekend, which was only four short months after our engagement. 

Just a few months before our wedding, in October, TC was supposed to come down to Florida for a visit. But then things got messed up, as they always do, and he had to postpone his trip. 

He rescheduled for November. As promised, he showed up at the Orlando airport on a Thursday. The next day I couldn't take off work so I left him to fend for himself. Since his arrival he had been acting funny, not eating and didn't seem to be having fun at all. I figured maybe he was overwhelmed and just needed some time to himself.

That day he came in to see my classroom. I was sure that he was so unimpressed with my teaching skills that he was most definitely going to break up with me. I couldn't think of any other reason that he would have flown all the way across North America just to act like a total weirdo. It made perfect sense. 

I knew it - he was there to end our relationship. No doubt in my mind.

He took my car for the remainder of the day to visit some friends around town. I spent the rest of the day half teaching and half worrying about what I was going to say when he broke up with me. I tried to mentally prepare myself.

Well, imagine my surprise when we get back to my house and instead of breaking up with me he proposed! I about died right there on my back porch.

It was the most perfect moment ever. 

The details are somewhat blurry, but I remember being so happy and feeling so loved. Somewhere in the proposal he mentioned something about having to make big decisions, which I assume was in reference to choosing a country to live in. I knew that was important, but all that I really cared about was finally knowing that he wanted to marry me. Compared to that, everything else was just small details.

So, here we are three years later. All is well and we couldn't be happier. We still manage to act like newly-weds and an old married couple all at the same time. I think that may be the key to a happy marriage.

As exciting as an anniversary is (AND IT IS EXCITING!) it also kicks off TC's birthday week. 

I spent some time wrapping presents for him today and planning out a fun get-together with our friends this weekend. Get your socks ready kids, we're going bowling!

Makes Me Happy.

This sweatshirt makes me soooo happy. The giant anchor. The loose and comfy American Apparel fit. It just begs to be warn with yoga pants. Come summer, its going to be perfect over my bathing suit when the sun starts to go down on the lake.

Also exciting, not only does Happy Family have this anchor design, they also have a T. Rex t-shirt that Sheldon has worn on three episodes of Big Bang Theory!

God bless Etsy.

I'm all about shopping from and supporting online boutiques. Shabby Apple creates their own line that is full of vintage inspired pieces. Everything is super cute with great colors and textures. I stumbled on this necklace and immediately sent TC the link. Ya know, just in case he ever needed a gift idea. He surprised me with it for Valentine's Day. My mom has a similar one in gold, which inspired my search, so this makes me feel just like her.

UPDATE: The necklace just broke after three wears. It no longer makes me happy, but the idea of TC buying it for me still does. (PS: Dear Shabby Apple,  please tell me you're going to pay for the return international shipping on your faulty product or I'll be forced to not like you anymore.)

We're all aware of my obsession with photography. My camera goes everywhere with me. Because of that, I like to keep things simple. I don't generally carry a camera bag or an extra lens. However, I constantly find myself wishing I had a mini tripod that could easily fit in my purse. I just needed something to take the occasional picture of TC and I - nothing too fancy. The problem is finding one that is strong enough to hold a big camera and big lens.

Again, TC to the rescue. He found a super strong Gorillapod to solve my problems. It comes in several sizes and this is the SLR-Zoom that holds up to six pounds. It bends at each ball joint so it's perfect for uneven surfaces, wrapping around a fence post or curling around a tree branch. Really, the best part of the bendy legs is how easy it is to point it up or down so I can get the perfect angel.

Also, Thor took it on a joy ride through the snow the other night when he mistook it for a new toy. It survived without so much as a scratch.

Now that, that makes me happy.

The Finish Line.

I've only run a handful of races in my life. Every time I do, I always am surprised by the volunteers. Who are these people that stand at the water stations for hours? Where do they come from? Why on Earth would they want to stand in the heat or rain or snow for hours just to hand me a cup of water that I'm going to throw on the ground?

Consider a marathon or half-marathon. The speedsters will come cruising by quickly, but then the volunteers still stand at their post for another hour or two until the snails like me come creeping by.

The longest race I have ever run was a 15k last spring. It was cold, it was hilly, it was windy, it was snowing. It was miserable. But it was going to be my first medal - and I was excited for it. I even knew just where I was going to hang it at home.

When I came across the finish line an older lady in a yellow jacket smiled and put her hands out to stop me. She grabbed the bottom piece off my bib, then put the hard-earned medal over my head and told me congratulations. It was a proud moment for me.

This past weekend I volunteered to work at the local Hypothermic Half Marathon. Lucky for me, my assignment was the finish line. The race organizers took the whole thing in stride, as if they'd done this a million time, which I'm sure they have. Similarly, the runners at the front of the pack also seemed very relaxed - like this was just another half marathon for them.

But if you walked to the back of the pack it was easy to see the first timers. The people who had been training for months. The people that were putting their heart, their soul, and all their hard work into this race. It was clear that this was a big moment for them.

I could totally relate. I trained for a half marathon last year but was side-lined at the last minute. I knew first hand how nerve racking and exciting this race must be for them.

It was a small race of less than three hundred people. As the first wave of runners crossed the finish line I stopped each one, congratulated them and ripped the bottom off their bib while someone else handed out the medals. As the minutes passed the snow was picking up and it was getting colder while the other volunteers and I waited for the later runners to come in. The crowd was thinning and the excitement at the finish line was obviously fading.

All I could think was how the people we were waiting for - those finishing with slower times - were the ones that were probably the most excited and therefore probably needed the biggest congratulations at the end. I made that my job. At the now desolate finish line, I became their own personal cheerleader as they crossed the finished line.

I can't tell you how good it felt to give them that big smile just like the lady in the yellow jacket gave me last year. I danced, I high-fived, I cheered, I even gave a few hugs right there in the middle of a blizzard at the finish line. It's funny how proud you can be of someone you don't even know.

If you are a runner, or even a part time runner, and you've never volunteered at a race then I highly recommend giving back to the racing world. As good as it feels to cross the finish line yourself, helping someone else do it feels pretty darn good too.

Just some food for thought.

The Blizzard.

Saturday morning I woke up to the sound of TC outside screaming at Maple to come back. Mother Nature was unleashing her fury in the form of a blizzard and the black dog decided this was an opportune time to take off down the street and dig in the neighbor's garbage. 

Twenty minutes later, at the miserably early hour of eight o'clock, a third beast came running into the house. It was Thor. Serge was dropping him off to hang out with me for the day so he and TC could take off to the ski slopes. 

Playing outside in a blizzard is not my idea of a good time so I volunteered to make myself pancakes, sit on the couch all day and hang out with the dogs. 

By the way, thank you Jodi Picoult for writing totally engrossing novels that I can't put down no matter how hard I try. 

Within five minutes of coming in, Thor decided to mark his territory and pee on the dog bed. 

Once I made the pancakes and Thor felt it his duty to lick all the dirty dished clean while they were still in the sink. I didn't witness it myself, but when I left the kitchen the dishes were neatly piled. When I came back, they were a mess.

About a month ago Thor turned Serge's guest bedroom into a scene that you only see in the movies. He created his own blizzard of down feathers after eating the comforter as a snack. Two weeks ago he ate Serge's leather couch for breakfast. Yesterday he ate TC's favorite hat for lunch. 

The storm was the worst I've ever lived through. The only comparison I can think of would be the hurricane when I lived down in Florida. The winds were unbelievable and the snowflakes were flying in psychotic circles, never seeming to touch the ground. Huge drifts were piling around the yard, but oddly the driveway remained clear. 

To take the dogs outside I had to bundle up in full winter gear. Snow pants, boots, gloves and my parka completely zipped up to my nose with my furry hood pulled tight.

It was horrible outside. Snow was whipping me in the face and my boots were sliding through the snow.

For the second time, Maple decided to take a trip down the street. I ran down the driveway after her only to find a huge drift of snow at the end. I know it was waist deep because I couldn't walk through it. As I watched Maple dig into the trash, I tried to climb over the drift. The snow kept giving way and eventually I ended up sliding face first down the pile until my lower half was completely buried. 

If anyone wants a dog, she's free to a good home.

The blizzard raged on all day, never letting up. There were points in the day where my neighbor's houses seemed to vanish. 

The tree branches were scraping against the windows but still the snow piled up the panes.

I was beginning to worry about TC and Serge driving in this weather. As far as I could tell, not a single car had driven down our street all day, and yet the two ski bunnies were all the way in Nova Scotia getting their adrenaline fix. 

Then a text came that said they were on their way back home. Even better, Serge was going to bring his tractor over once they were back. 

Have you ever seen a snow blower on a big tractor? It's magical. It effortlessly sucks up snow that is three feet deep and shoots it way up into the air, far far away.

As helpful as the tractor was, TC still had a lot of work to do this morning. Somewhere, we knew, there were three cars buried in the driveway.





And while I thanked my lucky stars that they were safe on the slopes and road yesterday, I was even more thankful that he didn't ask me to help clear the snow this morning.