Meet The Dirty Girls

Friday, after dropping Nora Jane off at school, I drove to McCormick Forest in Gig Harbor where I met up with The Dirty Girls.  The Dirty Girls are a group of women who like running, trails, and mud.  I had heard about this running group from the Route 16 Running Store and thought they sounded like my kinda people.

By the time I arrived at the parking area, however, the girls had already set out. So, not sure which trail to take, I opted for the one "to the right."  I'm not sure why, I guess it just looked "more open."  Just a short distance ahead, I encountered the first group of Dirty Girls, complete with the official "Dirty Dog," a Doberman decked out in a jacket to keep warm.  These ladies referred to themselves as "the slow group" and I was about to settle in with them when a second group, aka the faster paced group, met up with us via another trail.  Someone called out, "this is Sonja,  a new girl!"  I felt like a kid, on my first day at  a new elementary school.  But these girls, too, were all smiles.  So, I said hi and fell in with them.  

So, just who are The Dirty Girls?

Well, Gwen and Nicole seemed to be the co-leaders of the pack, or, at least, co-navigators.  Gwen, with braids bouncing off her shoulders, was up front calling out directions as she lead us through the woods,  warning us of upcoming dangers (i.e. roots, rocks) on the trail.  Nicole did the same, but from the rear.  She seemed quieter than Gwen, but mentioned that she's recovering from a kidney infection and in her own words,  was "feeling the burn."  Well, no wonder!  

In the middle, were Rebecca and Meredith, who also is recovering from kidney surgery.  So when I mentioned that I, too, am trying to "get back into shape," they said I had come to the right place.  And I think they were right.  I don't know the last time I found myself around such positive,  encouraging women.  Several times during the run, we passed the first group and they all cheered each other on, even high-fiving as we shared the trail on a hill.  

And there was good conversation;  except up one big hill, then it got pretty quiet.   Meredith  said they mostly talk about food, sex, and something else.....I don't know why I can't remember the third one. Something about memory loss, perhaps?  But, they talked about everything:  food, husbands, injuries, physical therapy exercises, piriformis pain.  Piriformis pain!   I felt like I was home...

So, as you can see, I am so glad  I made the drive to Gig Harbor.  I am so glad I didn't just go run Point Defiance, like usual.  Because it was such a great morning, even though, near the end of our run, Rebecca said to me, "Can you slow down?"  and then turned to Meredith and asked, "Can you lead?" 

Oops!  


Hopefully they won't hold that against me, though, because I CAN'T WAIT to run with them again.  I mean Meredith said she likes coffee, running, and wine!  We are DEFINITELY gonna be friends!  :)  

Maybe next time we'll even encounter some mud, or that VERY BIG PUDDLE I heard all about.  


xoxo--
Sonja

Outta the Mouths of Babes.... I Mean Nora Jane

Dinner--Last Night

Nora:  "Mom, can I have more broccoli?"

Me:  Mouth agape, unable to comment, let alone remind her that it's may I have more broccoli?

Me again:   I simply nod.

Happy Birthday Big Lar!

When my husband was gone, a few weeks ago, Nora and I had to come up with creative ways to entertain ourselves, in his absence.  

Luckily, for us,  I received an email from my High School BFF (although I still consider her my BFF) complete with photos of her Dad's recent birthday party.  I always loved this man.  Being Italian, he liked to joke, sing, drink wine, walk around the house in his shorts and black socks, and invade my VERY BIG SPACE with lots of hugs--TIGHT hugs. He was funny, kind and, ya, he  could scare the crap outta me when needed.   

The Birthday Boy:  Not ONE BIT Scary :)

The real deal:  Look at those meatballs! Yum!

But think about it.  I was a teenage kid from a totally dysfunctional family dealing with a lot of stress.  And we were Lutherans!  Of Nordic descent!  Which explains my Big Space Issue.   

Despite my afore mentioned description, Big Lar could also seem quiet,  stern.  Now, having played the parent card myself, I can guess he was probably just tired.  He worked all day as a Very Important Person at a Very Important Company, and he commuted to and from his Very Important Job (I just love saying this)  by ferry, making his long days even longer.  Not to mention,  by the time I met him, he'd already raised 4 other kids:  putting them through college and getting them settled into their careers and marriages.  So I'm sure he was just too damn tired for any of our teenage tomfoolery.  

When he came home from work tired and hungry,  all he wanted was a kiss from his wife, a hot plate of pasta, a chair where he could put his feet up and not be bothered for a few quiet hours.  Or wait, was this MY dad?  (minus the wife, and of course my dad would've called them Noodles)  At any rate, he didn't want to have to deal with all the troubles we got into.

I don't know how this man felt about me then, but because he and his wife so graciously accepted me into their home and family during my teenage years and put up with all the shenanigans his daughter and I got involved in, I hope he knows how grateful I am for that.  Not that we were bad girls, by ANY stretch of the imagination.  But girls, as I have come to learn, can be emotional and tiresome and pains in the ass.  So, because Big Lar and his wife loved and comforted me, when my family was failing in that area, I wanted to take the time now to wish him a Very Happy Birthday and to let him know that those days I spent with them will always be special and important to me.  

So that's just what Nora and I did:  We had a Happy Birthday Larry Party.  

There was music:  The Italian Mambo Station, provided by Pandora

There was a pasta dinner; which I would NEVER feed to him!  I mean sauce from a jar!  Egads!  I did, however, throw in some fresh onions, and lots of garlic, and something green, apparently.  

Not even close to The Real Deal

And since Dave was gone and NJ eats like a bird,  (especially at dinner) we skipped the salad and opted for sliced cukes and baby carrots.  

And, of course, there was the wine!  

Now Jr. did not have wine, obviously.  She only looks like she did.  

Like I said:  Eats Like A Bird!

And I only had one glass.  Yet,  due to Nora's photography skills (or lack thereof) I only look intoxicated!

First Try at "Capturing the Moment"

Second Try....

I haven't seen Big Lar in a number of years, but keep up with him via my friend,  and I think of he and his wife, D-, often.  Just as Lar was the father figure I needed back then, D-was really my mom.  In fact, she probably has no idea just how influential she was to me.  I can't count the times, I have asked myself over the last four or five years, as the mother of a teenage girl, "WWDD?"  I should probably write to her and thank her.  Thank her for loving me.  Thank her for teaching me.   Thank her for letting me come over to her house after school EVERY DAY and watch Little House on the Prairie, while eating her popcorn.    And Thank her and Lar for all the crap that her daughter we did back then.   

But that will have to wait!  Ha!  Because this is Big Lar's Post:)  

So Happy Birthday Big Lar from Two Stone Cold Sober Nordic and Not-So-Lutheran-Anymore Girls!  

SALUT!

And, yes, somehow I STILL look slightly tipsy!  

xoxoxo
Son

P.S.  I should thank Edye for letting me Steal the photos of Big Lar and his lovely pasta dinner.  I probably should have asked first, but since my "blog" seems more like an online diary and I only have five followers (ha) I figured she wouldn't mind.  Thanks E- :)

Back in the Race

I am pleased to announce that I am "unofficially" off the injured list.

Didn't know I was injured?  Yep, for about a YEAR now.  A YEAR!  Or at least it will be November 4th.  So, close enough.  

But those days of achy feet due to plantar fascitis and achilles tendonitis are over forever!  (I hope)  And to prove it, I even "raced" last Sunday.  And when I say raced, I mean I started a race with a group of silly people all dressed in costumes, and proceeded to run a total of 12 Kilometers through the trails of Port Gamble, Washington.  Okay, I did walk a little.  But only up some of the BIG hills.  I mean, it had been a year!  

But I don't even care, because Sunday was the annual Spooky 12k trail run, (part of the Roots, Rock Trail Run Series) and it's one of my favorite races of the year.  And it didn't let me down this year:  it was wonderful!  The weather was beautiful! The leaves were beautiful!  The runners were beautiful, except the weird ones brave ones who actually dressed up in costume.  Heck, I even felt beautiful, even though all I'd done that morning was brush my teeth, put my hair in a pony tail, don my cap, and slap on some under eye concealer.  Some things simply cannot be omitted, even on race day.

And I felt good!  I was doing what I love, with people who love it as much as me.   The pain in my feet was minor and my very unused leg muscles were carrying me through the woods.  Until the kind folks at the last water stop said, "only one mile to go!"  

Now I should have known this, I've run this race many times before!   But on this day, at this point, after a year "off," I was feeling the burn and I was done.  Or ready to be done.  My 12K should have  been a 10k.  But, I trudged along.  Off the road, onto the single track trail, down the hill, across the creek, over the oh-so- slippery logs, back up the hill on the other side, across the "meadow" and through the finish chute.   

After I crossed the finish line, I hugged my husband, who had probably been thinking, "where in the HELL is she?  She should be here by NOW?" Then I grabbed a cup of orange Gatorade (YUK, I thought it was water), my banana, and my fresh, homemade pumpkin cookie, complete with cream cheese frosting, (yum!) and walked (slowly) to the car.

"What?  You don't wanna stick around for post race activities," asked my well trained husband.  "You might get a prize!"

I would have laughed at this, but I was too tired.  And prizes were not what this day was about.  This day was more about the journey than the time.  It was about gettin it done, and then going to Dad's house for waffles; which were delicious! Thanks Dad!

And thanks, as always, to my biggest fans, for coming out and supporting me even though my "journey" took longer than usual, and you had to entertain yourselves with books and DVDs in the van, because it was so cold outside.  I love you people!  

xoxoxo--- 

Speaking of Junior, she decided to run her own race:  The Kids' Spooky 1 Miler.  Unfortunately, I didn't get to see her and cheer her on, as her race took place after I had hit the trail.  But I hear she took off from the start line like a bat outta hell, hair flying wildly behind her.  She turned around at the mid-point, got tired, slowed to a jog, then a walk, only to be told by her Dad that a girl was coming up behind her!  Well this was the kick in the ass that she needed, apparently, because she turned and looked behind her to confirm this information, and then put it into gear to get up the hill and across the finish.

I'm so proud!

BFFs

Nora went to a birthday party on Sunday.  The party was for Meredith, her BFF.

Apparently, having a BFF is very important in second grade.  So important,  that you have to note it on your  birthday card.

Nora has loved Meredith since the day they met, which was the first day of kindergarten.  And what's not to love?  Meredith is silly, outgoing, loud, bouncy, happy;  everything a little girl would love in a best friend.  Especially, if said little girl is, by nature, more quiet and reserved.  At school, that is.   

So these two girls clicked from day one.

First Grade Field Trip to the zoo

The problem, at least to a second grader, is where to "rank" her other friends; some of whom she has known even longer.   Take Mel, for instance.  Nora has known Mel since preschool.  They have had play dates, sleepovers, and they LOVE each other.  So much, in fact, that Nora felt compelled to remind Meredith of this.   Remember that birthday card?  Well, look closer:  

CLOSER:  

This TOTALLY cracked me up!

Could it be?  TWO BFFs?  

Does this make Melanie BFF #2?  Or, should I totally shake things up and delcare them Co-BFFs? 

Apparently, I'm not the only mom dealing with this phenomenon lately.  At a recent soccer game, Meredith's mom said that Meredith wanted to know if it was okay to have more than one best friend.  Of course, her mom assured her that it was.  It is.

So when another mom called me yesterday to ask if I knew anything about the "fight" between her daughter and Nora,  I wasn't surprised.    Even though Nora hadn't mentioned anything.  

Nora and this girl are also very good friends.  Although, admittedly, when she comes to play at our house,  there does seem to be A LOT of arguing.  I don't know why that is.   Perhaps she and Nora are just too much alike; too stubborn,  too spoiled?  I don't know.  I just know that compared to other play dates at my house, these require much more interference on my part.  

This mom, said that Nora told her daughter she wouldn't play with her at recess, because she was playing with someone else.  And I'm sure that's exactly what happened.  Having gone through all of this before with Anna, I know that girls can be choosy selective about how they spend their free time.  Even in grade school.  But, honestly, I think it's okay.  I think that's how they learn.  They explore new people, new friends, and make new relationships.

I tried to convince this mom that things will be fine.  The girls will be friends again by tomorrow, if not sooner.  She asked if the girls could have a play date this weekend.  I guess to ensure their friendship really is secure.  And I think she wanted me to talk to Nora, to encourage her to use "nicer words" when telling her friends why she won't play with them.  That simply stating NO can be upsetting, especially to the sensitive hearted.  

So I did.  Later that night, I mentioned how her friend was feeling.  And Nora responded that she DID tell her she'd play with her the next day only to be told that her friend would be busy that day playing with someone else.  Ugh!  Girls!  

So why do these little people place so much emphasis on being at the top of the social ladder when, really, they love all their friends?    Right now, Meredith may hold the coveted spot, with Melanie being a close second.  But that could change tomorrow.  And then again next week:  that's life with girls.

For now, I am encouraging Nora to be friends with everyone.  Because they are all wonderful.  Really!  I get such a kick out of all of them.  More importantly, though, I am thankful for the way they have opened up Nora.  When she is with them, she is goofy, loud, rambunctious, even bossy sometimes.

And then they go home.  And I get my other girl back.  The quiet one who likes to watch movies and snuggle on the new couch she made for herself--for reading.

The At Home Nora

Goodbye Mickey

Big Mick

Our cat, Mickey, died last summer.  He was fourteen years old and one of two brothers.   Cooper, is still with us.  Actually, he's right next to me on the desk, watching as I type.  The boys, as they came to be known, were a gift from my husband many anniversaries ago.

From the day they arrived, though, Mickey was different-odd somehow.   He was lanky and skinny, where his brother was round.  He was vocal (and I mean meowy to the point of annoying), where his brother was quiet.  He was demanding; running to the pantry FIRST thing in the morning, after I let him back into the house, because he knew his  treats were kept in there. And he'd howl whenever I was in the kitchen preparing food, begging for his own.  Cooper was none of these things.  

And until about a year ago, he slept on my head  EVERY NIGHT.  And not just on my pillow, but literally on top of my head.  And he wouldn't just sleep on my head. He'd claw and scratch my head, pulling my hair and, occasionally, draw blood.   Of course, I could have put him out, but that was his spot.  So I tolerated it.  Some nights more than others.   I thought he needed that comfort.  I thought he was taken away from his mother too early and, therefore, I  filled the mama void.

Over the years, he was basically a good cat.  He loved us.  We loved him.  We played with him.  He made us laugh.  He sat on our laps and snuggled up to us on the couch.

As usual:  on a lap

As he grew older, however, his quirkiness became more and more annoying.  He started begging for food, hopping onto the counters when he thought we weren't looking.  He'd jump on our laps, pawing at our plates and cups.  He'd pee in things, like purses.  But really, I think it all started back at our old house, where he was involved in "the accident."   I wasn't home at the time, but the story goes like this:   

Unbeknownst to Dave, who had been out working in the garage, Mickey was sitting on top of the garage door, which was in the open position.  Well, when Dave was finished,  he pushed the button to shut the door, lowering it to its closed position, and walked into the house.  Now you would THINK that, at this point, Mickey would have jumped OFF of the door.  But no!  A few minutes later Dave heard a terrible howling sound.  Upon returning to the garage, he saw Mickey's back legs and tail at the top of the garage door!  The rest of him was hanging over the top--on the other side of the door!  Not knowing how to deal with the situation, he hit the button to reopen the door and Mickey simply hopped down.  He didn't seem hurt at all:  no cuts, scrapes, broken bones, swelling--NOTHING!  He simply ran off, as if he was mad.  Like it was Dave's fault for trapping him, embarrassing him for all the neighborhood cats to see!  

But, really, after that, he was never the same.  He became much more demanding; howling EVERY time you went into the kitchen.  And he moved from sleeping with me, to sleeping with Anna.  In fact, he really became Anna's Cat.  So much so, that she was afraid we were going to "do something" to him when she went away to college.  That's how crazy he was making us!  But, of course, we didn't.   We wouldn't.  

So when Dave found him all curled up on the grass, in the back yard, TWO WEEKS after Anna went to school, not only were we devastated, but we feared telling Anna.  

And she was upset.   "It's because you make him sleep outside!"  Even though he practically lived his entire life outside.  As a matter-of-fact, we tried to cage him once, about four years ago, because, for some odd reason, he liked to go to the bathroom on our neighbor's lawn.  And not just any neighbor.  The neighbor with the nicest, greenest grass on the block!  And they didn't like it.  So, after an embarrassingly, uncomfortable "talk" with me, I promised her I would keep him inside.  And we did, for about three weeks.  But, finally, I let him go.  He couldn't take it.  We couldn't take it.  My house couldn't take it.  He was ripping up doors, pulling up carpet.  So, out he went.  

After a few weeks, I saw her out doing yardwork and pulled my car up alongside her driveway.  I felt enough time had been spent avoiding her.  I mean I have to live practically next door to her.  So, I bravely asked how they were doing and  if Mickey was leaving them alone.  And she said, "I don't know what you did, but it worked!"  Hooray!  We could be friends again.  Honestly, I don't know if Mickey actually stopped using their grass as a toilet, I hope so.  Or maybe she just took my advice and brought the hose out every time he came creeping their way.  Whatever we all did, it seemed to work out.  

We don't know what actually happened to Mickey.  We only know he was laying on the ground in the back yard when we got up one morning.   He had no wounds, no blood, and there were no signs of distress or struggle.  It was as if he simply went to sleep and didn't get up.

So I cried some farewell tears, hugged Nora, called Anna, and then dug a hole alongside the fence.  I wanted to bury him below Anna's window.  That night we held a little ceremony for him and for Nora.  It was her first loss.  "To keep him company in heaven," Nora also buried Mickey's toys, an entire bag of  cat treats, and a card.  Oh the card!  She picked it out herself and it still makes me cry just thinking about it.  Basically, it said "you were put on this earth to be our friend and so we could love you."  And then she wrote:  "Mickey, you were a good cat.  We loved you and will miss you.  I hope you can use one of your nine lives now to see your mama in Heaven.  Love, Nora."  

Mickey had been a part of our family for a long time.  My girls grew up with him and my oldest daughter loved him dearly,  moreso, I think,  because she thought we didn't.   Which isn't true, of course.  We did.  We do.  But, yes, we did  complain about him.  Because he was annoying!  

But we still loved him. 

And we'll miss him too.

Goodbye Mick.

Mickey
9-21-97  to  8-29-11

Coffee with Dave

This morning I had coffee with Dave.  You're thinking BIG DEAL right?  But, it is!  We haven't had coffee together for THREE weeks!

And as anyone who has kids knows, finding quality mom and dad time is sometimes challenging.  So,  "getting coffee" has always been our thing.  It's when we catch up, talk about the kids, talk about the house, talk about our dreams.  You know, those crazy dreams,  like when we will go on vacation without our children?

But since his work has been so busy lately,  Dave has been working seven days a week.  Admittedly, this really helps out when Anna's college housing (ouch!) is due.  AND, it allows me to stay home and be mommy, housekeeper (sort of), chauffeur, birthday present purchaser, dog walker, and recently, blogger.   Okay, you get the picture.  And, yes, I do see him every day after work, so it's not like I'm deprived or anything.  But, I still miss him;  or at least that time with him.  

So what happened 3 weeks ago?  Well, that was our 20th Anniversary Trip to Beautiful British Columbia.  At least that's what all the license plates say.  And I have to agree with them.  For the three days we visited, Victoria was just that.

And, remember those crazy vacation dreams--without our children--that I just mentioned?  Well,  it had been ten years, TEN YEARS, since Dave and I vacationed without our children.  So we felt we deserved it.  

So, off Nora Jane went to Grandma's house.  Thank you Grandma Garnet!  Off Jack went to Grandpa Dahl's house.  Thank you Dad!  And off we went.  

Our trip started off beautifully.  The drive to Port Angeles was sunny and cloudless,  and the ferry ride to Victoria was gorgeous!  Although, I was surprised to see The Coast Guard escorting us for the first half of the trip.  

Waiting to get off the boat in Victoria.  See how smiley I am?
The return ride was not so smiley.
The water was rough and I spent  half the trip on deck,
in the cold, trying NOT to throw up.

Speaking of National Security, while we were waiting to board the ferry, I got to talk to one of the bomb sniffing dog handlers and admire his BEAUTIFUL Visla.   And I know she was on duty, hard at work ensuring our safety, but I REALLY wanted to pet her.  I did not.  Her owner didn't offer, and I felt it was inappropriate to ask. 

Upon our arrival in Victoria, we quickly passed through customs, and found ourselves being entertained by a local street performer.   We watched for a few minutes, until the hat came out, and then off we went.    We had stuff to do, sights to see, food to eat!  I hadn't been to this city since my eighth grade field trip.   I had no children tugging at my purse,  and I was ready to go, go, go!

And for two and a half days that is exactly what we did NOT do!  Instead, we totally relaxed.  We went to dinner.  We had cocktails, which we don't really do too much, but what the hell, we were out of the country!  We had coffee--each morning!  We explored the city on foot, and when we got tired we hopped onto the city bus and rode out to Butchart Gardens;  which is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.  And it totally makes my flower beds at home look so lame.  

This fuschia reminded me SO much of Nora Jane
and her love of fairies.

The Dahlia Garden at Butchart Gardens was INCREDIBLE.
This was one of my favorites.

After the garden tour, we tried to get hockey tickets to see the Victoria Royals in their season opener, but we weren't aggressive enough at making our wishes known, so we went to dinner at a local pub and then saw "Drive" at a nearby theater.  

I think I am trying to prove to Dave that his beer, the Harp,
was lighter and, therefore, less manly than my beer.
He didn't buy it either....

And I loved this movie.  David?  Not so much.  It was a dark film, for sure.  But the characters were so real and played off one another so well.  And Ryan Gosling?  Well, let's just say, he's one of my new favs.  He played the main character, and didn't really say much.  Nor were we given much information about his life up to the point in the movie, but his interaction with the other characters (and the toothpick!) was wonderful and real.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it was time to come home.  But for those three days, life was calm, easy, relaxing.   And, as I type this, I am amazed at how quickly real life just picks up, right where we left off, making even the most recent memories seem old.  

See how relaxed we looked? 

So I'm very grateful for the hour I had with him, all by myself, at Starbucks this morning.  I don't really even know what we talked about; nothing important really.  But since he left for his week long hunting trip right afterward, it'll hold me over until he comes home.  

Nora was also excited to find Daddy at home this morning.  So, they walked to school together-just the two of them.