TV!

I love television. Probably because I love stories. And, TV is stories. Right at your finger tips. Any time day or night.

Today while doing the drive to soccer practice, the boy asked what my favorite show was when I was a kid. I had to think about it. Impossible to answer. Love too many shows. Too many genres.

And then he followed it up with, 'When you were a kid, were the shows in color?'

Um, what?! I'm an 80's kid! We had color!

Why, I oughta!

That got me thinking... I was a latchkey kid. On top of that I was sickly. I was home in front of the television a lot. A lot.

Your fresh breath goes on and on.

I was stuck on Bandaid brand, cuz band aids stuck on me. I raise my hand because I'm Sure. I take the nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head fever so I can rest medicine. From Vicks of course. I also know spaghetti doesn't really grow on trees but if it did, nobody would grow spaghetti like American Beauty. And I kiss a little longer, longer with Big Red.

The Facts of Life are all about me. I bet we've been together for a million years and I bet we'll be together for a million more. As long as we've got each other, we've got the world spinning right in our hands. Baby, you and me. Different Strokes rule the world. It's time to light the lights.

I grew up on sitcoms and game shows. I watched The Price is Right when they were called 'Barkers Beauties' and if you had the exact amount on a bid, you reached into Bob's pocket and pulled out a one hundred dollar bill. I wanted big money, no Whammies. And stop! From the center square Joan Rivers, Jim J Bullock and me, I'm Shadoe Stevens.

I wanted my mom to be like Mrs. Huxtable and my grandma to be a little bit like Sophia. Not Blanche though, because, does anyone want a slutty grandma? I wanted a retired boxer to be our housekeeper and our house to be decorated by Sugarbakers.

(Note to self: the above would be a great show.)

I love television. And maybe I could have been a neurosurgeon but my brain is full of commercials and theme songs. I'd prefer if all challenges in my life could be wrapped up in 28 minutes and the worst thing that happened was to be continued until next week.

On a very special episode.

The most beautiful thing I ever saw in 1984.

Running, with dogs.

So, got up early the other morning to get my run in. I’ll be honest, I’ve been slacking. The dark mornings are not very motivating. And, I’ve had a cold. Not feeling great and certainly not well enough to run. At least very well.

Got a puppy this summer. Her sole purpose (other than snuggles) is to be my running partner. She’s a Border Collie. She needs a job. She has great ‘eye’. This means that she doesn’t just look at you, she looks into you. Her face and eyes are black and even though she’s as sweet as pie, if she thinks you’re a threat to me, she doesn’t look friendly. And when the hair on her back goes up, you should probably cross the street. I have no fear running in the morning or evening with her – she sees everything.

Running Buddy.

I’ve had this cold, it lingers. Puppy was restless. Hadn’t had a run in four days. 

The alarm went off at 5:30. The dog pack jumped up. Well, some of them. Yes, it’s true. We have four dogs. 

One senior, two small dogs and the border collie. And, yes, I know it’s too many. But, the senior is three paws into the grave so it’s just a matter of time until we’ve got three dogs. Which is actually much more manageable and honestly, the perfect number for our house. Senior rolled over and refused to get up. The young three ran out to do their business. I let them back in when I went to the kitchen to have my pre-run toast with peanut butter. Small, spoiled girl dog went back to bed. Small boy dog sat there. With sad eyes. He clearly wanted to go run too.

Here’s the thing. He’s a hypoallergenic hybrid. He wasn’t cheap. He was flown cross-country. He’s the sweetest funniest little guy. And he has an adorable face. His legs, well, his legs are, to put it mildly, jacked up. He’s bow-legged. And his left foot is turned so far it almost looks like it’s on backward. Running is not for him. He needs a trip to the doggie version of Shriners hospital. He needs some Forest Gump braces on his legs. But, he looked so sad. And, well, if he wants to run, who am I to shatter his dreams?

For a 20-pound bow legged dog, the dude can pull. Border Collie runs on a gentle leader – goes around her nose. She doesn’t pull at all. Trots right along side. Gentle leader rules. So, I figure, I’ll put him in the gentle leader. 

Put Border Collie in a regular leash. She looks slightly offended that he’s using her collar and lead. We head outside. Turn on my running app and snap the leader on his face. 

And then all hell broke loose.

You’ve seen those fishing shows where they hook some giant shark or something and it runs to the end of the line and then throws itself in the air while trying to kill the person who hooked it. I’d have been less scared if a shark was on the end of this leash. It was quite a show.

I stopped and readjusted the lead. He calmed down and trotted along for a half block or so. Then had another utter meltdown.

Running app is not pleased with my distance or pace.

Stopped again. Adjusted.

Things were going better. He was right behind me - that seemed to work for a few blocks. He wasn't pulling at all.

And then, (the 'and then' is always the best part, you know?) the leash tightened behind me. I kept going, he's got to learn at some point. I stopped under a street light and glanced back. It took a moment to realize what was happening. He, with his desire to get the leader off his face, was hopping down the sidewalk on his back feet while desperately trying to push the leader off with his front paws. He was a small dog possessed. 

The readjustment, jog, readjust continued on. Until he won. At about mile 2. 

What was supposed to be seven miles, adjusted to five because of the cold ended up being 2.76. 

I didn't get my miles. Border Collie didn't get her miles. Spoiled boy dog slept for two days.

There's a winner in there somewhere.

What? These legs are fine!

Old?

At some point, I'm not sure exactly when it happened, I became old. I think. I'm 39. That doesn't seem old, really. Right? Oprah says 40 is the new 30 and if Oprah says it, it must be true. So. I'm young. Yes?

I don't really feel old, per se. Well, I feel old the morning after.

Went to Costco today after work, kid pick up, cleaned out the fridge, made dinner, went for a run (5M), watched cartoons with the kids (Phineaus and Ferb are making a title sequence!).

In bed at 9:30. On a Friday. Exhausted. Now, in my defense, that is a lot of stuff. But a few years ago I would have done that stuff, met up with some friends and stayed out late. Would have crawled into bed giggling and smelling (reeking) of bourbon.

All I could think about tonight was how I need to get up early and have a big list of stuff to get done this weekend and how it's better to go to bed early than be miserable and tired for days...

Perhaps that's a sign of maturity? Mature sounds better than old. Except when I hear about 'mature men' on dating sites - then that's code for 'old'. Just like houses listed with 'easy freeway access' equals 'under an overpass'.

I did spend an hour watching cartoons today so that should count for something. And, I'll watch some in the morning. It'll be Saturday after all. Looney Tunes is on.

Maybe I'm just tired.

Scars and Gravel, Gravel and Scars

I've been the victim of attempted murder on more than one occasion. Mostly by people who claim they love me. And/or are related to me...

He doesn't look like a killer. But, that's what they always say.

In this particular case, I was horribly disfigured. It's a miracle I even leave the house. Because, my brother.

One afternoon we were unsupervised. It was cloudy. I had my pink and white jacket on. I'm guessing it was spring, probably right before my fourth birthday.

Remember, I'm a small town girl...

Out in front of Tyke's store there is a flat spot next to the road. The fertilizer companies would bring big tanks and stage them there - now, to keep people from killing themselves or others with the chemicals, they were up high with a ladder hanging down. If you were a fertilizer man, you had a ladder that connected to this and you could get up there. If you were a kid, you saw a challenge.

The challenge: ride your bike under the ladders. And not die. Or, more importantly, don't kill your passenger. Your much younger passenger.

'Hey Stace, you want to go on a ride?'

'Yeah!' Big brother fun times!

'Okay, do you know what duck means?'

'Yeah.' Geez, I'm almost four, but I'm not an idiot.

And so, trusting him with my little tiny human life, I got on the back of his bike. Or, more likely, he put me up there.

We were moving so fast! So fun!

So stupid and trusting.

'Okay Stace, you ready? When I say duck, you duck.'

'Ready!'

'Okay, Duck!'

'WHERE?!' I looked to the sky, searching for the duck. Or better yet, ducks. Ducks are fun.

Now, there's a sound. A distinct sound. It's the sound of aluminum hitting your skull. Followed by the more dull sound of your tiny body slamming onto the gravel. And, you see Jesus for a second or two. Then, well, then, you taste blood. That has trickled all the way down from your forehead.

In his defense, he did freak out at the sight of me. My sister looked a little disappointed. From what I could see. Through the blood.

So we walked to get help. Can't go home with a face like that. We were stupid, but not that stupid.

I hope that everyone has an Aunt Nancy in their life. An Aunt Nancy will save your bacon - numerous times. Most of them will involve an injury and blood. Sometimes stitches too. With the added benefits of a cookie to make you feel better after. In the least, she'll clean you up and carry you up the road to your mothers house. Better to walk in blood free. Lest we get ourselves killed.

And now, I have a scar on my forehead and an almost paralyzing fear of being hit in the face. As I age and wrinkle, the scar gets deeper and deeper.

I'll get it fixed at some point. And send him the bill.

Somehow able to laugh with the hideous scar.