Kinda Naughty

We spent Christmas Eve night at Chad's parents' house tracking Santa Claus at www.noradsanta.org. Jude was excitedly running around giving everyone the latest on his whereabouts. My mother-in-law stopped him to ask if he'd been a good boy this year and did he tell Santa that.

Jude didn't hestitate in his answer. "Um, actually, I'm kind of naughty. But I'm always sorry."

Got to give the kid credit for his honesty.

Serious Desperation

The travelers: John (father), Jack (grandfather-87), Catherine (aunt), Carrie (that's me)

The location: Clonmacnois Heritage Site, Ireland

The weather: Drizzly and cold

The day: Long, and in a serious hurry

The roads: narrow, windy and not a darn place to pull over anywhere

The fault: Really all my own

Here's my story:

We arrived at Clonmacnoise in the middle of an argument.  The place had been on my father's list of things to do in Ireland, but we were running short on time to reach Dublin by dark.  He wanted to give it up.  I insisted, like seriously insisted, that we go. 

We pulled in to the parking lot and my grandfather and I raced to the restroom building to find it locked.  We then hurried to the visitor center to find all the bathrooms there were closed also due to an electrical outage.  Holy crap, I had to pee.  And PS, there is seriously, like seriously, no place to ever pull off the road in Ireland to pee. 

I backed myself into a wooded area and had Cath stand guard on the parking lot side.  Mid-stream, a family came walking behind me on the conveniently located walking path which had been obstructed from my view.  That's slightly embarrassing, but that's not even the story.

We walked around and saw the sites.  My poor grandfather was desperately searching for a restroom to no avail.  The poor guy was in agony-he was desperate when I was desperate and he was still hanging on!

As we were leaving, I insisted that my grandfather go into the woods to pee.  He said no, I said yes, he said no, I said yes.  Finally, he gave in to me and disappeared into the woods.  Cath got in the car behind John.  I, as the navigator, got shotgun. And Jack took the spot behind me.  

We started down the road and John asked for the yellow plastic folder that contained some maps and tourist sites' fee and time information.  We were all searching about and my grandfather was the lucky winner.  He struggled to put it out from under his feet, but eventually it gave way.  He handed it over my right shoulder against my neck and it slid down my sweatshirt into my lap.  

It took about two seconds.  

"Dad, pull over."

"Where the hell am I going to pull over at? There's no GD place to pull over.  (see road and day notes) We are never going to make it to Dublin at this rate!"

"Dad, pull over."

"I'm not pulling over.  Hold your pee."

"Dad, pull over." 

"I'm not pulling over damn it!"

"Dad, pull over!  I'm covered in shit!" I was surprisingly very calm.

Sure enough, the car was eventually overrun with the distinct smell of feces-human, stranger to boot.  When I sent my grandfather into the woods, it had been lost on me that everyone else arriving at Clonmacnoise was likely seeking out a place to pee (or vacate their bowels) as well.  And my grandfather's eyesight wasn't what it used to be either.

I hopped out and used all the water bottles in the car to rinse my hair and skin then got back in.  A few minutes down the road we happened upon a coffee shop that afforded us the opportunity to do a more thorough clean up.  I calmly removed my sweatshirt, my only jacket (see weather note) and got to work.  Cath volunteered her socks.  We got them soapy and I cleaned the car and grandpa's shoes.  My dad brought his dad some new pants.  I balled up all my poop clothes and put them in my suitcase.  Before you say you would have thrown them out, my sweatshirt represents my first marathon and I wasn't giving it up for shit-excuse the pun.

That night in the hotel I showered for at least a half hour.  Cath was teasing me about the timing.  "Oh, I'm sorry.  I was covered in human feces today and felt dirty."  

As I'm sitting here typing this I just keep thinking about the first time I was covered in stranger human feces.  Yeah, believe it or not, I have another one of these stories.  Do you want to hear it? How desperate are you? Seriously?

Literally

I was asked if Dane knows any Spanish words because he spends so much time watching Dora the Explorer.  My answer then was that although he said them from time to time, he did not comprehend that it was another language.

A few days ago my mother and Dane were sitting at our kitchen table eating lunch as I lounged on the living room floor in front of them engrossed in the Olympics.  My mom asked Dane, "do you know how to say water in Spanish?"

Dane's answer was a very confident, "YES!"  I perked up a bit because both my mother and I were pleasantly surprised that he was beginning to understand the language connection.

"Dane, let Grandma hear how you say it."

"Water in Spanish."  Although we both fully expected to hear agua, I had to give the kid credit for his very deliberate articulation of the phrase.  Not a prodigy yet I guess, but good for several belly laughs the rest of the day when we got out of him "horse in Spanish," "dinosaur in Spanish,"........you get the idea. 

MS 150 Ride

Now after completing my third year biking the MS150, I want to again thank my family, friends and coworkers for their financial and emotional support. Each year that Brenda and I participate we get to know more of the regular bikers, hear more about why people ride and test our own capacity for finishing those miles. There are too many inspirational stories of riders with various stages of MS and people honoring loved one to do them justice here, but their stories are a good part of the reason I can't stop joining the ride every year despite the pain.

Friday night on the bus ride up we chatted with a first-timer who was a bit nervous about what she was in for. We assured her that all the stories about exhaustion, soreness and emotion were completely true. I don't think it helped her at all, but now its fun for us.

We headed out about 7am Saturday. The day started off with wind and hills reminiscent of last year's Saturday ride and I just about cried several times thinking about how hard that had been. Unlike last year when I had training mercilessly, this year I was a little distracted by (insert old house, new house, hail to car, kids, etc) and felt there was no way I could bare that again. Luckily, the weather turned out very reasonable, but after my legs were spent I couldn't recover enough to make the rest of the day go any easier anyway. About 10 miles in, a sign was posted that read, "Caution. Long downhill ahead." I was tempted to pull over, cross out "caution" and replace it with "Hurray!"

After we arrived at day one's finish at Grand Casino and dropped our bikes in the corral, we took the bus to Hinckley High School for showers and to set up our sleeping bags. We rode there with a woman who wore apparel that had "PINK" on it. She told us about all her training, how she wasn't sore or tired at all and how she was trying to find some people to hit a few bars with her. I assured her after we went back to the casino for dinner, bed would quickly follow. Not her, she said. After the showers we came back to see Pink passed out and drooling on her bag. I think she managed to make it to dinner, but she definitely didn't make it out past 8 o'clock.

Volunteer Reggie usually comes to the high school and starts turning on lights at 5am on Sunday. This year some a-hole turned them on at 4:30. Generally people don't set any sort of alarm because volunteers and other people's activity gets things stirring naturally. The 4:30 timing had me crabby for quite a while though.

Sunday's ride had perfect weather and, in general, was much easier. Brenda and I felt good most of the day. With about 10 miles left I joked to a biker passing that I was hoping to catch the SAG Wagon at the last stop and take it to the finish. The SAG Wagon is the support van that picks up bikers along the route who've suffered an injury, bike malfunction or exhaustion. He slowed up and said, "oh great, now I have to bike in with you and make sure you leave the stop on your BIKE!" He was joking, but riders take a lot of pride in being able to say they biked every single mile and really support everyone else in accomplishing the same.

Dane, Jude and Chad were cheering for us at the finish, along with Brenda's daughter Chloe and sister Nadine, which always chokes me up a bit. Dane found me after I parked and asked, "Mom, you ride a bike?" Jude explained to him, "no Dane. Mom rode her bike from a long, long, long, long way across the world." Well not exactly, but it felt that way sometimes.

Sunday night in response to his inquiry, I was explaining to Jude what the bike riding is for by telling him about how we raise money to find a cure for MS and explaining some of the symptoms. He said, "Mom, you are helping people who are blind? That's like Jesus. Mom, you and Brenda and all the bikers are like Jesus!" Nothing like your 4 year-old to make you feel like a rock star.

That's the story this year. Still hoping to recruit a couple of you for the future. Thank you all very much again for your support.

Carrie

Mother's Day?

I woke up this morning to "Mother!  Mother, can you help me with my cereal?"

"Yes, I'm coming," I yelled back.  It was 6:45 am.

"Mother! Can you get me more juice, please?" It was 6:52 am.

Finally, I'm ready to use my get-out-of-jail-free card. "Jude, can you ask your dad to help with some of these things?"

"No mom, today is Mother's day.  Get it?  Mothers get to be the helpers." Hmm.  Nice smile from Chad at this point.

I was beckoned to for shoe tying, book reaching, butt wiping, diaper changing, nose blowing, lunch making, etc all the while being referred to as mother.  Don't think little Dane didn't pick up on the obvious choice for mom as helper, doer, slave.  When Chad tried to do anything for him he'd yell, "no Mommy do it!"  Hmm.

I did get to look for the envelope with a card in it that Jude had hidden somewhere in my room.  "Mother, look right here under this cushion and you'll see it." 

When I opened the envelopes containing the gifts they made at daycare, Jude proudly showed me the Mom button he colored and I did love it.  It was the beginning of their project collection I will treasure forever.

When I opened the one from Dane, he immediately recognized the M-O-M keychain as something that had come from Jannel's house.  "Thank you, Dane. Mom loves it."

"No, that's Jannel's.  Give it to Jannel."  Hmm.  

I'm sure tomorrow we can bring the keychain to Jannel and she'll show Dane it is okay to give it to me.  Tomorrow Dad will get to have some of his duties back.  Tomorrow won't be Mother's Day though.  It will be much more relaxing. 

Iceland story Part II-The Al Gore story

Our last day in Iceland was reserved for the Blue Lagoon visit.  It's a tourist trap for sure, but beautiful, unusual, and worth it.  The air is cold, but the water is hot.  We frolic, losing and finding one another through the steam that pours off the lagoon.

Mom and Scott decide to go to the restaurant for lunch as Leona and I continue lounging.  We swim to the restaurant where they have a window seat to make body language conversation through the glass.  Then we notice something: a camera crew on the roof of the building.  Big camera, not tourist guy camera.

So Leona and I swim out to the middle of the lagoon to a place we feel we'd be sure to recognize ourselves should we ever find this video somewhere on the internet.  Then we make casual, yet exaggerated moves that could be used to solidify our self-recognition.  Eventually satisfied, the camera crew packs it up and we swim along to leave.

While we are in the locker room a woman says to us, "Al Gore is here."  My mom finds us changing and confirms that Al Gore was part of the camera crew on the roof top.  I urge Leona to throw some shit on quick so we can go check it out.  We race out to the lobby and follow the signs to the rooftop viewing area.  There was no security as we come to the door that opens to an outside walkway leading to the rooftop.  This door can only be opened from inside the building so Leona leaves it ajar so we can get back down.  At the end of the walkway I turn the building corner and find the "in" door, so I give Leona the go ahead to close it.

We are standing up there and I say to Leona, "can you believe it? We are in the same place Al Gore was just standing."  We agree that it'll be a cool story then hurry our butts off the roof because its cold, and we are wet and half-naked.  

As we open the "in" door, I hear an unmistakable man's voice.  "OMG Leona!  That's Al Gore."  We back out of the meeting room we had entered and start searching for alternative exits.  Of course, there are none.  I scold Leona to "not do anything stupid.  Just quickly walk normally through and don't make a scene."

We step back inside and stand behind a narrow wall dividing us from the rest of the meeting room where people are seated eating lunch and listening to Al Gore's presentation on alternative energy.  We can see our exit, but must pass the meeting to get to it.  

Leona looks straight at the wall to her left (they are to the right) and speed walks to the other side.  I, on the other hand, can't remember what normal walking looks like.  Instead, I do this exaggerated tip toe thing like you'd see in a cartoon, with a huge grimace on my face, while doing an apologetic wave to everyone.  Leona tells me I'm an idiot.

We race down the stairs and find mom and Scott who relay that they'd been unable to find Al Gore's entourage so they must have left.  "No, no.  They are still here.  We just left their meeting."

We'd been told Icelanders are rarely impressed by American celebrity and as a result get quite a few celebrity visitors because they enjoy so much privacy.  Security issues are really rare there (there's a baby stroller story that evidences this).  I did read on the internet days later that Al had spoke at an event for the general public earlier that day.  So maybe we aren't that special, but for the rest of my life I'll be able to say we were at Al Gore's energy meeting in Reykjavik, Iceland.  Anyone, anyone, anyone else?  Didn't think so.

Iceland story Part I

My mother Paula, step-father Scott, cousin Leona and I traveled to Iceland together-this is our story.  In the interest of interest I've tried desperately to condense.

Day 1

7 am Flight arrival-we spent the day exploring (and napping). 

6 pm we start drinking with other lodgers at the hotel.  Scott, however, hung out in the lobby bar, single-handedly paying everyone's wages with his drink tab.  

Day 2 (just by clock, not by our sleep pattern)

1 am We went out dancing.  Paula turned in early.  I stayed out late to assist Scott.  Leona is a rock star and didn't need my help with a damn thing.  

3:30 am Scott and I make it home safe.  

6:30 am Leona arrives back. 

6:45 am wake up call for Super Jeep tour.  Leona literally jumps out of bed and is ready by 7 am pick up.  I did say she's a rock star.

Note:  The Super Jeep looks like something you'd take on a safari, but its wheels are close to four feet in diameter and the thing is wobbly.

8:30 am We are happily bouncing over rugged roads shaped by glacier and volcanic activity.  Scott looks like a kid in a candy store with his grin as we explore the continental divide and other geological wonders.

11 am  Bouncing hits Scott's stomach.  Smile is replaced by frown and crabbiness and requests to stop talking. 

1 pm  We drive to the middle of an expansive, pristine, white glacier.  It's breath-taking.  Except for the huge pile of pink vomit Scott just laid all over it.

1:15 pm We are up to about five piles of puke now.

3 pm  Driver takes us into a stream and drives on its bed for a mile before making the climb out.  I, Paula and Leona cheer gleefully.  Scott wants silence and less movement.

4:30 pm Leona, Paula and I explore crater.  Scott doesn't leave the Super Jeep.

7 pm We are back at the hotel.  Our moderation served us well as mom, Leona and I enjoy a drink and have some dinner.  Scott doesn't have that luxury and goes to bed.  We stay up late.

Day 3

9 am Whale Watcher tour pick up

9:30 am  We are all trying on our "Gumby" suits to protect us from the cold wind while we stand on the ship's deck looking for whales. 

9:45 am Leona, Paula and I are cold and go below deck.

10 am Leona, Paula and I are all fast asleep while Scott takes photos of us "whale watching."

Note: Mom denied sleeping, but then discovered the water she believed someone had spilled was really a pool of her own drool.  I also denied it until I saw the evidence on film.

11:30 am  The tour is over, but no whales were spotted so we are able to use the tickets again on the afternoon tour.

12:30 pm We try on our Gumby suits for the afternoon tour.

12:45 pm I go down for a break from the cold.

12:50 pm Back up top so I don't miss anything this time.

1:30 pm Leona, mom and I are all "whale watching" again.  More photographic evidence is collected.

That evening dinner at the highest restaurant in town (it rotates like the Space Needle) to celebrate mom's birthday.

Stay tuned for Part II...... 

Clean Plate Club

I'm sure I've told Jude one or twice he had to clean his plate before he could do (fill in the blank).  Today he had a little different take on the concept.

Visiting at Petrina's house, Jude wore himself and her three dogs out chasing and throwing sticks.  When he came in starving and thirsty, he expected his new best buddies to join in the eat and drink.  While the big dogs took a much needed break on the porch, little Austin followed Jude to the table.  

He volunteered to use my plate to save dishes (we do this a lot at home), but turns out, he noticed it was dirty.  

"Jude, give it to mom and I'll rinse it off for you."

"No, no mom.  I got it.  Here you go little dog, clean it off." 

He proceeded to lay it on the floor so Austin could lick it clean.  I offered to rinse it again, but he was satisfied Austin had done an excellent job so no further cleaning was necessary.  He then insisted it was ready for his food.  Now I'm not one for dog slobber on my eating surface, but as a mother who doesn't want to immediately instill her children a fear or judgement of things that are different, I had to go along with it.

After he had his toast, he was ready for some chocolate.  Again Austin was tasked with making sure he had a clean plate to eat off of.  I can assure everyone that we don't insist his plate be spotless in between all food he might consume at one setting, he just liked having a dog to lick his plate. 

He spotted trace amounts of chocolate on his plate and again little Austin did his duty.  I mentioned to Petrina it needed washing despite its clean appearance to which Jude chimed in, "no, no just put it away. Its clean. Austin cleaned it."  

Petrina thought it was a cute exchange between boy and dog, I think that anyone who hires Jude as a dishwasher best beware.  His clean plate membership may just be denied. 

Reverse Mouth to Mouth

I must have learned this trick on National Geographic or the Discovery Channel or Encyclopedia Brittanica. Wherever it came from, it came in handy.

Dane wasn't choking or anything, he just kept finding and eating candy. Dinner was minutes away and I was having one of those days in which I was fed up with children saying they weren't hungry because they'd been snacking heavily.

Oh, Dane would run and hide with it. I'd squeeze his little cheeks and try to swipe it out to no avail. I'd get bit, but he could swallow it down before I ever had a shot at it anyway.

Finally, out of desperation, I put my mouth over his and just inhaled with all I had. I got a mouthful of saliva-soaked chocolate, but it was worth it. I had won. After that, Dane followed me around most of the night saying, "Mommy, you suck my mouth." He was so impressed by what I had done that he had to tell anyone that would listen.

So I didn't save his life or anything, but I saved my sanity for a while and all it took was a little mouth-to-mouth, in the reverse.

Extweeze Me

Has this ever happened to you?

You enter an elevator about to ride up 40+ floors while you are digging in your purse. You spot your tweezers as the elevators doors close.

You remember the annoying hair on your chin you've been meaning to pluck. You notice you are alone in the elevator, so what the hell, you give it a quick tug.

You've only made it to the tenth floor and you think, could I risk it? "Well no, I wouldn't usually, but I did spot a stray in the chest region while showering this morning. If I had remembered the chin hair then, well then I would have taken care of this other one also, but I didn't so......"

Again, what the hell, you've got some time. You pull out the shirt and the undergarment and get to plucking, and it turns out there's a couple to take of.

The doors open and you are deep into the chest hair plucking and oblivious to the group of men waiting to enter. They are waiting to enter, but can't move for fear of humiliating all involved.

You suddenly snap your head up and realize the crisis immediately. You start explaining how you had a sliver from your son's toy apparently lodged in your sweater. It somehow made its way through your bra and was scratching you on the left breast.

It most likely got there when he was jumping on the splintered wooden toys while you were folding laundry. "Oh yes, he piled the broken toys on the clothes and then started jumping. I must have forgotten to check everything for debris." You know the insanity of the statement, but you're pretty sure they bought it. You hope, but at least you'll likely never see them again.

And then you ride up the elevator with at least one of them every day for a week.

Never happened to you? Yeah, no, me neither.

Well extweeze me, I have to go get some serious workouts in, since I'll be taking the stairs to work.

Gross Things

I remember as a teenager watching our neighbor Cindy wipe her daughter's nose with her hand.  At the time my stomach turned and I told her that was the grossest thing I'd ever seen. "Oh, well once you have kids you'll figure out its just part of the job," she replied.  Um, no thanks.

Several years ago I recall walking in Target with my cousin Mary and seeing her do the same thing to her son Adam.   By now I'd determined maybe it was just part of the job, but I didn't think I could handle it nearly as gracefully as Mary or Cindy had.

Fastforward to the last 24 hours, and I've now crossed over into a world that most would consider so much more disgusting than wiping noses without a tissue.

Gross things I've done in the last 24 hours:

1. Took a booger off my first son's hand because he sneezed it on himself-no tissue.
2. Held on to said booger so I could comfort said son as he threw up into toilet.
3. Cleaned vomit from 1 year-old son off my neck and hair.
4. Cleaned more vomit off my chest-shirt missing after number 3.
5. Cleaned puke off of cat bed.
6. Cleaned puke off of cat.
7. Used sweatshirt as bucket for curdled milk vomit.
8. Sat holding vomit and vomit-covered child until reinforcements arrived.

9. Cleared vomit-covered sheets off my bed.

10. Cleared vomit-covered towels off my bed.

11. Slept on pillow with vomit on it.
12. Cleaned diarrhea splatter off the toilet-my son's.
13. Cleaned diarrhea splatter off the toilet-????.
14. Cleaned diarrhea splatter off the toilet again-you get the picture.
15. Allowed myself to be covered in diarrhea by writhing, nauseous child fighting a diaper change.
16. Stayed covered to hold and comfort aforementioned child.
17. Sat in bathtub filled with puke-puke added after I was in it.
18. Cleaned chunking vomit from car seat straps and buckles.
19. Cleaned same vomit from car.
20. Used bare hand to dispose of box elder bug.
21. Used bare hand to pick up remnants of curdled milk vomit discovered on floor.

22. Used bare hands to catch projectile vomit trying to save clean sheets.
23. Rinsed puke bucket about 20 times by now.
24. Ate my breakfast while cleaning out bucket.

Is anyone still reading at this point?  I know.  No one needed to read that.  Well, I didn't need to live that either.  Okay, so I've definitely gotten over that grossness hump, and somehow I really am okay with it.  My stomach doesn't even tighten with queasiness anymore when I have to do all these things.

I don't know that I've really developed any sort of grace when dealing with gross things, but I'm sure at least one person without children has seen me do something without hesitation that he/she has sworn against doing in the future.  I survived today, but now what I'm really, really looking forward to is all the gross things I get to do over the next 24 years. 

Good News, Bad News

Jude: "Mom, I have some good news and bad news for you."
I grimace.
Me: "Okay. Tell me what it is."
Jude: Sigh. "Well I climbed onto the cupboard in the bathroom and I got down some floss so I could floss my teeth."
Me: "Is that the good news or the bad news?"
Jude: "Mom, that's the goods and the bad news. Don't you get it?"
Me: "Did anything fall off the shelves or did you get hurt?"
Jude: "No, mom. You're frustrating me!"
Me: "Okay, so that's the good news and bad news then?"
Jude: "Yes."

It occurs to me after this exchange that my four year-old doesn't really get the concept of good news, bad news. He heard the phrase somewhere and thought he'd try to use it. It's the natural progression, I guess, from word misuse to now, phrase misuse.

The good news is that he flosses his teeth. The bad news is that now he's mad at me.

Cat and Edwin

These two might give me a look of recognition each time they see me, but certainly I am not a regular at their place of business. They are only a rare indulgence, Edwin slightly more often than Cat. I relax in the waiting room with my cucumber water and magazine awaiting each of their services.

I start with Edwin. He wasn't my first, but my second, and now, my only. He shows me into his room and invites me to lay down. Edwin inspects my face thoughtfully then begins. A brow wax was something I never considered until a couple years ago. I still only go once in awhile, not often enough to maintain the look. Every time I partake I explain to Edwin, "more angular than archy. Not too thin." He smiles as if to say, "honey, you are paying me a lot to do this because I am an artist. A little respect please." And he deserves it. I always feel a hint of sexy when Edwin is done with me.

I move on to the next waiting room dressed only in a robe that is in constant need of retightening. But the lights are dim and the foot bath is exotic. Cat greets me with a low, subtle voice the way massage therapists do. We pick an aroma oil for the room. I'm not here for a typical massage, but a shower massage. Since my first, I have found it impossible to have any other kind.

Cat begins by brushing a hot oil treatment through my hair. My scalp feels invigorated. The next sensation comes from warming oils with sea salts slathered over my skin. Each part gets just a little chilly as it is left behind, strangely creating a wanton feeling. Cat holds up a towel so I can modestly turn over, and the routine begins on my back side. Afterward, I lay in silent anticipation, then the magic happens.

Cat starts with a high pressure nozzle spraying a concentrated stream over my legs, back, sides, head and neck. It's hot, almost too hot. I love it. My face is comfortably tucked into the head rest surrounded by towels, so I breathe easily. Eventually the rain storm, as I like to call it, begins. A multitude of shower heads lower over me and a million pinpricks of water enliven my skin. When it becomes almost too much to handle, I am refreshed by Cat sprinkling cool water in the mix. This is not the best example of how to save the Earth one could find, but somehow I just can't care. I find myself imagining a place in nature I could somehow sleep in a hot rain storm while breathing comfortably, wondering if such a thing exists. I am startled back to consciousness as I hear myself let out a sigh of satisfaction. Cat can't hear me over the cascading water, but if she could I'm sure she would be use to the sound. If she whispered to me "Carrie, we are about to be joined by a group of strangers who will be viewing the remainder of your massage," I'm sure I wouldn't move. I could maybe manage an "mmm hmm." This is magical.

When its over, I lay there with my skin throbbing pleasurably and nothing more than a small, wet towel wedged in my crack. Modesty evaporated. I dress, I pay, I drive away. Then I laugh about how ridiculous a wet towel in your crack is.

I stop at the grocery store for a few things. I am absolutely positive the pharmacist, the patrons, the check out lady are all noticing how gorgeous my eyes look and how my skin is glowing-nevermind my ripped up sweats, dirty tennis shoes, mismatched winter wear and hair like a rat's nest. I am alive today and beautiful.

I get into bed relaxed and ready for wonderful dreams. And then I get one more laugh out of the crack towel.