Could I get some chips over here...

My brother John's salsa is gold. People stash it away, not telling others they have it. He made a gallon and a half. We "let" Jenny take some to her in-laws and to Michael. His birthday is tomorrow so we felt generous. Now having second thoughts....

Super Bowl

Early Sunday morning, one week before the Super Bowl, my brother John stands across the street from Cowboy Stadium. The area surrounding the stadium is now off limits. Concrete barriers prevent closer access. The closest we could come was the Walmart parking lot.

If at first you don't succeed...

Addie spent a good 20 to 30 minutes trying to put her pants on.  She could sometimes get one leg inside, but couldn't quite coordinate the second leg.  She never asked for help, which was a good thing because we had more fun watching her than the Bears/Packer game.  (Paul yesterday came home wearing a Steeler's cap). 

Like the Bears, Addie couldn't quite pull it off... or pull them up.

Shirley Lochridge

Shirley Lochridge is my mom.  She's 83 years young as you can see by this photo taken recently in Missoula, Montana.  When Shirley is not outside power walking or skiing, she is taking care of my dad, Frank Lochridge.

My father was diagnosed years ago with a form of dementia. Today he is completely dependent on my mother.  He enjoys most of his life, such as listening to music and walking the hallways of their complex.  Above all, my father likes teasing people and telling jokes.  He may struggle with a name, but never a punchline. 

I admire my mom for so much.  She is the smartest person in our family, although she wouldn't accept that.  We have a lot of smart people in our family, too.  Shirley also has lived her life according to her values: family, hard work, honesty, healthy (mind and body) living, knowledge.  Together, she and my father valued their relationship as demonstrated throughout their 60-plus years together. 

But now, it falls on my mom alone to keep their relationship alive.  She's the nurturer.  She holds my father's hand. She protects him. She loves him.

If my dad could truly see her now, he would be as awed and as proud of her as I am. 

My sunshine

Little Addie, 15 months old.

Living la vida loca

I can check ice skating off my list now.  Been there, done that. 

Paul got off work early and joined me for my birthday skating adventure.  It was a little scary I have to say.   I calculated it had been 15 years since I was in ice skates.  It was one of the kids' birthday parties at the Tandy Center in downdown Fort Worth.  That place no longer exists.  So, it had been awhile. 

We headed out around noon.  We both were determined.  Gonna do it.  Blood thinners be damned.  Back surgery?  Hernia?  We laughed.  Nothing could stop us.  We were unstoppable. 

We parked and wasting no time, speed walked to our destination: the ice rink inside The Parks Mall.  A short ride down the escalater, I turned right and Paul kept walking straight.

"Paul!" (no answer, he is still walking)
"Paul!" (louder, still nothing)
"Stick!!"  Paul turns and looks at me.
"It's this way"  My dear, dear husband is sometimes directionally challenged.

Eighteen dollars later we are putting on our skates.  They feel unnatural.  Stiff.  Paul laces up my skates.  Sweet.  It brings back Northern memories.  Now all that stands between us and this great experiment... I mean adventure, is the Zamboni machine now cleaning the ice.  We walk gingerly toward the rink. 

Doors open.  Paul is inside, he's on the rink which looks like marble flooring coated with thin layer of water.  I walk on blades, lifting my right foot over the door jam.  Left foot follows.  That's when it hits me.  I am ice skating!!!  I used to live on ice rinks.  Even just before we moved to Texas, there was a rink at a neighborhood park where I would skate as often as possible.  It's liberating.  It's almost like flying. Unencumbered by mere feet. 

Back to reality, I head for the side railing and begin to ice shuffle.  We begin our circular trip around the ice rink.  It takes a few minutes to get my brain and feet synchronized.  I imagine my brain working madly to access memory data.  Then it just clicked!  I was skating, for real.  Paul was attempting to get me to slow down.  Ha!  Not possible.  I was skating.  I thought I heard him call my name but it was too late.  I was skating!

I must have been an impressive sight because just ahead of me I see this little boy, around 6, pointing at me.  I wave back.  Then he speaks.

"You're going the wrong way!!"

Oh.  Apparently, there's a right way and a wrong way to circle the rink.  I thank the lad and turn around.  There's Paul shaking his head.  Ok, so I, too, can be directionally challenged.

The adventure felt like forever.  Forever fun.  Forever exciting.  Forever familiar.  In truth, forever was more like 30 minutes.  By the third rotation we could feel the back of our thighs and calves.  By the fourth rotation, muscle cramps were beginning to hold our feet hostage.  Paul's back began to object soon after.  We agreed on one more rotation, then called it quits.

It was an experience we both will not soon forget.  For real.  The next day, we still could feel it.

I still loved every second of the experience.  It took me back.  It shook my memory base in a good way.  For that, it was worth it.  Way, way worth it.

Nur Mut!

I want to go ice skating on my birthday Wednesday but my fear is it will turn out like one of those Gieco commercials.  Is it a good idea for an overweight, middle aged woman on blood thinners to ice skate if she hasn't gone ice skating in 20 years?  My fear is I will twist an ankle, fall and break just about anything.  When the Rod Sterling character asks the question, "Is it a good idea..." what follows is always a bad idea. My favorite is the one that asks: Is it a good idea for a drill sergeant to be a therapist?  The drill sergeant mocks his crying patient, telling him to go mamby pamby land, then throws a box of tissues at him and calls him a jack wagon.  Very funny.

I think I'm gonna try.  I want to be more brave (braver?) this coming year.  Other things I'd like to do ares paintball and ride a horse.  

It's getting to be that stage of life where I look back at what I accomplished and calculate what's left to do, divide that by ... I don't really do math.  All I know is that I need to multiply my efforts.  And that will take courage.  So that's why I need to be more brave - grammatically correct or not.

So my rallying cry this year will be Nur Mut, the German words for Be Brave.  I took German in high school and college. Not a useful language, I know.  If I had taken Spanish, then my rallying cry would be valiente, which translates into courageous.  I am more confident with the German.  Frankly, I am intimidated by Spanish language.  It's so fast and I am so slow ... anyway.  So, I am pretty sure I am going to try the ice skating.  Parks Mall on Wednesday.  Wish me luck!  No.  Wish me to be brave!