Second Place...

And here is the other Three Minute Fiction piece that didn't make the cut.

Now this one I was pretty happy with and would have been just fine submitting it as my entry this time around. It was the one that C actually preferred (after helping me change the ending to a more subtle one instead of a club to the head). And I was leaning towards it as well. Partly because even though it was the third idea I came up with when I heard the prompt it was the first one that actually made it to words on the screen. And partly because I just liked the story. But that's why I had three people read them all to decide before I submitted. It's hard to be unbiased about your own work. You can fall in love with an idea or concept and not ever really realize it's not your best stuff. Though I'm not saying this isn't my best stuff. I'm still very fond of it.

It also started out fairly long and had to be edited down to fit the requirements and I think that some day I might stretch it back out to a longer piece. Maybe. Maybe not.

But for now here is the second place finisher in the contest to see what piece enters the contest:

I Wish

“Tell me the rules again, DJ.”

“James, we've been over them at least 100 times. Why do you want to hear them again?”

“I want to make sure I have them right in my head. I would hate to make a mistake. An opportunity like this only comes around once, right?”

“Fine. As finder of the genie’s lamp you are entitled to one wish. You may not wish for more wishes. You may not wish for something that would take away the free will of another, as in you may not wish for love or friendship that would not be freely given. You must use the formal request language to make your wish so there is no misunderstanding. I, James Peterson, wish for, insert wish here, understanding that this is my one and only wish and I will abide by all repercussion of such wish. With the conclusion of this wish I, James Peterson, do release the Djinn from his obligation to me, the finder of the lamp, and he may now return to where I found him.

Are you ready to make your wish now?“

“No, not just yet, I’m still thinking. There’s no time limit right? I mean, it’s not like if I don’t make my wish within 6 months it expires?”

“No, James, no time limit. A wish doesn't have a shelf life. I’m not sure it’s ever even been an issue before; most people make their wish in a day, two at most. You've been thinking for months now.”

“It’s just important to me to get this right.”

“Then is that all for now? Should I go back in the lamp?”

“Well, I was thinking, did you want to go see a movie and maybe grab some dinner? Remember the action flick we saw the preview for a few months ago? It’s opening this weekend.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. But no Indian food this time, if I want good Indian food I’ll go home and grab some between wishing gigs.“

“Oh, right, that makes sense. Also, I picked you up some clothes. That way you can wear something different than the ‘formal genie’ look you normally rock. Not that there is anything wrong with it, I just thought this might be more comfortable.

And umm, I was thinking, while I’m deciding on my wish you could just hang out, you know, outside of the lamp. Since my roommate moved out there is a spare room you could have. You know, if you want to.”

“Live outside the lamp? I've never really thought about not living in the lamp. It’s small but it’s home, you know?“

“Sure, sure, I just thought it might be a nice change of pace for you. That way you wouldn't have to wait for me to release you from the lamp all the time. You could just hang out whenever you wanted to. But, you know, no worries. I mean who knows I could make my wish soon and you would be gone anyway.

Okay, well, if we are going to make the 7:00 show we should head out soon. Did you want to go get ready?”

As DJ went to change James placed the lamp back on the shelf in the living room. He had been thinking he should really find a more secure place to store it. If DJ decided to go ahead and start living in the spare room maybe he would get a safe deposit box at the bank.

 “Okay, I’m ready. How about we go for pizza after the movie?”

“Sounds great to me.”

Three Minute Fiction

So I entered the NPR Three Minute Fiction contest again this cycle. I actually wrote three different stories for the prompt so I figured I would go ahead and post the two that didn't make the cut for you. The prompt this time was write a piece of original fiction in which a character finds something he or she has no intention of returning. And like always the piece has to be 600 words or less.

That's why this piece didn't make the cut. It's actually the first idea I had when I heard the prompt but when I wrote the story the first time it came in at over 800 words. And that was with a lot of self editing as I wrote. By the time I got it down to the 600 words I felt like it lost too much. When I decided to post it here I had to decide if I was going to add back in the parts that I cut or just give you the 600.  I went with giving you the 600. I feel like this shows you what happens to a story when you have to cut and cut and cut. You can see where I was going, but how I ran out of road to get there. Writing a story with limited words can be a real challenge. Even for someone like me who prefers to write short pieces. You have to be very precise in your word choice, in what you leave in and what you take out. And sometimes you just can't make it work.

And now that I've given you every reason not to want to read it I bring you:

Cleaning Out the Attic

“Mom, I think this box must be yours.” Judy pushed the dusty box out of her pile of things to sort and back towards her mother.

Joyce looked at the box marked dorm room, “Oh gosh, if it is I don’t even remember putting it up here.”

“Open it up and let’s take a look. I’m ready for a little break anyway.” They had been sorting the attic all morning getting Judy’s things packed and ready to move in to her new house.

Joyce looked in the battered cardboard box at the jumble of items. Ticket stubs from long ago concerts, pictures of friends, scribble notes about classes and events, things that had once been tacked to a bulletin board in her college dorm room, papers written long ago, books from classes she could barely remember and at the bottom of the box an old letterman’s jacket. “Not the best packing job, but it was the last day of class and we needed to clear out quickly.”

Judy took the stack of pictures from the box and started looking through them. She stopped on one and handed the photo to her mother, “And who was this, hmm?”

Joyce saw a much younger version of herself wrapped in the arms of Eddie. Eddie smiling at the camera wearing his college letterman jacket that he was so proud of.

“Ah, Eddie, he was the last boy I dated before I met your father. “

“He’s cute.”

“He was and very charming. I remember at the slightest breeze he would take his jacket off and wrap it around me making sure I was warm. I faked a lot of chills.”

Judy laughed, “Mother, really! I would've never thought of you as that kind of girl!”

Joyce smiled at her daughter, “I wasn't. But something about Eddie made me feel like I could be.”

“What happened to him?”

“We broke up. I’m not a dainty little girl that likes being taken care of. He needed someone who was. It all worked out for the best.”

Judy looked in the box and saw the jacket folded in the bottom. “You still have his jacket? You should get in touch with him and let him know you found it! How excited would he be to get it back?”

Joyce smiled at her daughter and started putting the old pictures and mementos back in the box. “He would be surprised, that’s for sure.”

She hadn't been completely truthful with Judy about when she had packed that box. She had been in a hurry to get out of the dorm room but it hadn't been the last day of class. It was a month before school let out.  Stopping by her room in the middle of the day she had walked in on her roommate and Eddie making out. Eddie tried to calm her down, “Babe, it’s not what it looks like.” She hated being called babe; it made her think of the Blue Ox. She had told him that over and over. She yelled at him to get out of the room and her roommate wisely followed. Seeing his jacket tossed over her desk chair she had to fight the urge to throw it out the window. Instead it went in the bottom of the box and she ignored every plea from him to return it. Denying she even had it. 

Thirty years had passed, maybe Judy was right and she should get in touch with him and let him know his jacket had been found.

 “Babe, it’s not what it looks like. “

Or maybe not.

The things you do for love....

"How about this one? Everyone says I look lovely in this one."

"Yes, you do look lovely in that one, Mom, but you really need a picture of just you. Having a picture of you and Dad doesn't really send the message that you are ready to start dating again does it?"

"Oh! How about this one? We could use this one!"

"Mom, that's a picture of Angie."

"Everyone says she looks just like me. I think it would be fine."

"Mom, you cannot use a picture of your daughter on your dating profile. Angie is 45 years old. She looks like you did at 45, you are 70. How about this one? It's a good shot of you and it's only a few months old."

"I look like an old lady in that shot. How about if we go to the mall and get one of those glamour shots taken? I could get all made up and use that one!"

"Trust me, Mom, this one is perfect. Okay, now let's work on your interests. What do you want to include?"

"Are you sure we are using the right dating site? I got an email last week from Cougars.com offering to sign me up for free. Polly Ann says that cougars are very hot right now so maybe we should be using that one?"

"No, Mom, that's not really what you are looking for. Trust me this site will be better for you."

"Are you sure? I think I would make a lovely Cougar. I'm a complete MILF."

"Mom! Do you even know what that means?"

"Of course I do, dear. Polly Ann's grandson told her that it means Mature Interesting Lady Friend."

"Okay, well, that's not exactly what it means, but Polly Ann's grandson is a quick thinker. Let's just stick with Match okay?"

"Didn't your friend Janet find her boyfriend Marcus on Match? They were a lovely couple. He was so nice and polite and they seemed to have so much in common."

"Yes she did, and yes they really did."

"Why did they break up?"

"Well, umm, when Marcus was filling out his profile he forgot to mention that one of the things he and Janet would have in common was that they both liked men."

"Oh, well, that's too bad that they couldn't make it work anyway. Gay men can make wonderful husbands you know."

"What?"

"Oh they can. You remember my friend Betsy right? Her second husband was just wonderful and gayer than a Judy Garland movie marathon."

"Mother!"

"Oh I know, your generation thinks you know everything there is to know about everything. But we had a few tricks up our sleeves as well. He was a lovely man. And after her first husband died she just wanted someone that would take her to the show and to dinner and hold her hand and tell her she was pretty. He did all of those things and more. Just the best friend she could ever have and they really did love each other. So I wouldn't mind a gay husband either. Is there a site for that?"

"No, Mom, I don't think so. Why don't we just stick with this one? What do you want to list as your interests? Reading? Knitting? Traveling?"

"How about skydiving? Or white water rafting? Those sound like fun."

"But you don't do either of those. You are trying to find an actual good match for yourself. So being honest will be your best bet."

"Oh fine, you just fill it out and I will look at it later. Are you sure we shouldn't head to the mall for a glamour shot first? I could get you one as well. You have a nice rack, you should show it off more."

"Mother! Seriously!"

"It's true you do. Maybe I should take a picture that shows off a little more cleavage at least? You know men can't resist that sort of thing."

"Okay...and done. Your profile is now live. The next thing that will happen is the site will make recommendations for you based on your interests and what you are looking for in a companion. You can also look through profiles and see if anyone interests you and if they do you can send them a message."

"Oh, I don't know that I feel comfortable sending them a message. They should message me first I think, I don't want to seem too forward."

"Mom, you were just talking about posting a better shot of your cleavage online, and now you are worried about being too forward?"

"There is using what your momma gave you and being too forward, dear, there is a difference."

"Alright...well...anyway...let me know if you need anymore help but this should get you started. And remember, don't make dinner dates, meet for coffee only to see if you like the person. Don't give them your address or meet them at the house. Always let someone know if you are meeting someone for coffee..."

"....keep a quarter in your shoe in case you need to call for a ride. You sound like your father and I did when you girls first started dating. Don't worry so much, I've done this before. It's been awhile, but I'm sure it's just like riding a bicycle."

"Okay, you're right, it's just that world has changed so much since you were dating, I worry. Let me know if you need anything else, I need to get Bri from soccer practice but should be home by 7 if you need to call."

"I'll be fine, dear. Don't worry. Though I still think we should get one of those glamour shots."

A deep as a mud puddle....

Well it's official. Word came from my new podiatrist that like boot season before it flip flop season has been cancelled. He let me know that my normal way of being, strappy sandals, heeled boots, barefoot otherwise just wasn't going to cut it anymore and I would need to start wearing Ugly Shoes™. Which was not the deal at all. The deal was I went to the doctor he said, "Blah, blah, blah." I did "Blah, blah, blah" and then I was fine. But looks like that's not the case. Unless and until it gets bad enough for surgery I just have to treat my feet differently. And since surgery isn't really something either one of us wants I have to change the way I treat my feet.

Which means most of my summer shoe wardrobe has been relegated to the "sometimes" pile. Along with a good chunk of my winter shoe wardrobe. And my workout shoes. And then the fact that I'm supposed to start wearing shoes around the house as well instead of going barefoot. All of this is just driving me nuts. I love boot season and strappy sandal season. I love the summer when I can slip my shoes off and be barefoot where ever I am. If it's sitting on the grass someplace or at the beach walking in the sand. These are the joys. Working out barefoot? Yes please. I've been doing the minimalist shoe thing during the summer since forever...

Now I get to wear Ugly Shoes™. I mean, practical shoes. Shoes with a lot of structure. Shoes without a lot of flex. Shoes that keep my toe inline with my foot so shoes without much of a heel. And when I do this I get to avoid surgery and hopefully minimize any pain in my foot. This is a good thing. Fixing the problem without meds, without surgery, without cortisone shots. These are all good things. I'm thrilled. Really. As Brent put it I get to shop for all new shoes! Yay. And then he also said, "You're going to pout the whole time right?" And  yes, I probably will do that too. But I will try not to. I will try my hardest to see what a great thing this is.

So while all of this is going on I looked in the mirror this morning and thought to myself, I've had really good hair days the past two days, maybe I should rethink cutting it all off. Growing it out longer might be what I want to do instead of going back to the super short cut. I think I will change my mind. And then I realized that these two things were completely related.

Shoes for me are one of my few super girly areas. I love shoes the way that women stereo-typically do. There aren't a lot of other things about me that are stereo-typically girly. But my love of shoes is. But I have a hard time with shoes because I have an odd shaped foot, so getting a pair that fits well and looks cute is a major big deal win for me. And I love it. Strappy sandals and flip flops in the summer are easier than pumps. There is room for my wider toe box and I don't have to worry about my narrow heel. And I can get super cute ones for super cheap so I could wear (and have) a different pair every day. And there is nothing like a really cute pair of shoes to lift my mood. When you go to put on that skirt that somehow shrunk in the back of the closet and so you are bummed? Throw on your cutest gold sandals with the skirt you have to wear instead and you are fine. Especially with a fresh pedicure to show off your bright red toes.

Ah...here we go with the other big truth. Shoes don't care how much I weigh. I have had clothes two sizes smaller than I am right now and 4 sizes larger. But the shoes? Pretty much the same. Yes, there is a little play when I get bigger or smaller, but basically the shoes stay the same. When I was at my larger size I could still put on a cute pair of shoes and feel attractive. Right now I'm at a good size for me (yes, Skinny Bitch is still clamoring for about 10 pounds less but we shut her up with cake) so the shoes are just bonus. But when I am heavier? The shoes are the thing. And now I will have to rethink my work out choices so part of me is panicking a little as to what that is going to mean with my weight. Can I maintain and not do the higher impact aerobics? And still eat that cake??

And so the focus switched to my hair. BOOM! And I almost didn't catch myself doing it. See here is the thing, when my hair is really long that becomes all people notice. I can be heavier or thinner and it won't matter because I will be, "You know Denise, she has the really long hair?" No one will even notice my shoes because they won't get past the hair. I know this from past experience. I've had it really long a few times and I know how attached other people become to it. Trust me, if you know someone with really long hair ask them what happens when they think about cutting it off. People get possessive. You can't! Don't! Horrible!

Hair has always been a big deal to me. When I was little I had to keep it short. My sister had long hair and my mother said she would never ever go through that hassle again. So the pictures of Susan were of this gorgeous little girl with fat sausage curls and then there was me.

And it still does that weird little kick out to the side at this length

When I got old enough to take care of it myself I grew it out. Then when I got older I decided to grow it out and keep growing it to see how long I could get it. I was thinking Crystal Gayle when I started. But once C was born I realized that an extra 20 minutes to wash my hair was just not in my schedule so down to my butt was as far as it got before I cried uncle and cut it off. David (our hairdresser) donated the hair to locks of love and I kept it shorter, bob to shoulder, for quite a few years. Then I decided that I would grow it out and donate it again. And I did that twice. Then off it all went. And I've reached the point where it's time to cut it off again. I'm going too gray to grow it out and donate it so the thrill of growing it out just isn't there. And honestly I think I look better with shorter hair.

Or at least I thought so until I discovered I couldn't use my shoes for my girly outlet. Because see, when I was little and my hair was short I got called a boy a lot. And my sister took great relish in that fact. Long hair was for girls, short hair was for boys. Now there is no one on god's green earth that would mistake me for a boy anymore but I guess there is still a part of that living inside me. That feeling of, will I still be feminine if I cut off my hair and start wearing plain shoes? I don't have a lot of girly things to give up, if I give up these two what does that mean?

And then I had to ask myself why I cared. I'm pretty comfortable in my own skin. No matter what size I happen to be at the time. (hush, Skinny Bitch). It's all vanity and I get that. There are more important things to worry about in life and I get that too. And I'm smart and I'm funny and I'm turning in to a Stuart Smalley joke right before your eyes...

So today I watched a few episodes of one of the girliest TV shows out there and found myself fascinated by the time and money these women were putting in to their weddings and recognized again that I'm just not that kind of girl. And as I get ready to go to the hockey game tonight and I put on my sensible shoes it will be okay because that's the kind of girl I am. And short or long hair, low or high heel, barefoot or sensible shoes aren't going to change that.

Oh and I'm not giving up my pedicures....

Now what?

And on we go...

It wasn't by accident that I planned on visiting with the Staggs after going through the house. I wasn't sure what the day was going to be like and a safe space where I could be myself with people I love was just what I knew I would need. And they have always been that for me. All four of them. So as I sat on their couch listening to the stories about Jason from the past four years I just had to shake my head. Who was this person they were describing to me? I couldn't recognize the guy that I knew in any of them. I tried, but he just wasn't there. It was like someone else named Jason had been dropped in to my family and took away the Jason that I knew. And that's sort of what happened.

When someone posts on Facebook one of those little saying cards with hearts and flowers about how without trust there is no love I know one thing about them for sure. They've never had a friend, family member or significant other who suffered from addictions. Because once that has been part of your life you know that love and trust are two different things. And right now my girls (all three of them) are learning that lesson over and over again.

Loving someone and trusting someone are choices that you make. And I know for most people out there trust is a given until you break that trust. For me it isn't. I don't trust you. I might love you. But I don't trust you. Not completely. Not right away. You have to earn that. And once you earn it you better not break it because you won't be able to earn it back. I might try really really hard but it won't be there. Not really. I know this about myself. It took years for me to understand it and to realize that it's okay. My trust meter is broken. Because someone that I loved that was supposed to take care of me when I was vulnerable didn't. But I can still love you even though I don't trust you. If you don't understand that, like I said you've never had someone in your life that suffered from an addiction.

Drugs, alcohol, gambling, any of these things that take over your life change you. I always view the addiction as a living breathing thing. And it's a three year old. Spoiled. Self centered. Lies. Cries. Denies. Watching Brenda and Lindsey as they shared stories, seeing the pain and confusion that is there, made me so angry. Now C is finishing up his junior year in college, Lindsey is wrapping up her cosmetology degree, and Jaycee is graduating high school. They are all pretty much grown up. But they are all still my kids and I would still push you out a window for hurting one of them. But what do you do with the anger when pushing the offender out the window would just hurt them more?

You listen.

You try to help as much as you can. Which usually just means listening. You worry.

I worry because I can see how tired Brenda is. She's working two jobs, renting out a couple rooms trying to hold on to the house and the land and the horses and handle the rest of the expenses. I worry about Lindsey and Jaycee both in school and both working. Dealing with grown up decisions about money and life plans that they shouldn't have to just yet. I worry because they both always have a boyfriend and I'm not sure if it's just because they are gorgeous (which they are) or if it's the start of always looking for a stable male figure in their lives. I worry because I see in Lindsey a lot of the anger that I had. And I worry that if it takes her as long to get over it as it did me she will waste her 20s pissed at the world like I did my teens. And I worry about Jason.

I worry that he won't get clean. He's in rehab right now but it doesn't sound like he's taking it seriously. You know how that goes if you've ever had an addict in your life. They aren't really an alcoholic because they don't drink everyday. They aren't really an alcoholic because they only drink beer, or wine. They aren't really a drug addict because they only smoke pot. They aren't addicted to gambling because they have a system. And it's not fair to have to never ever have another drink, smoke another joint, take another pill, place another bet. Other people can do it, I can too! Like I said, addiction is a three year old.

And I worry about what happens when he does sober up.

See once he's sober he is going to have to look at what has happened. This is the hard part and when most people relapse. I've told friends before that sobriety isn't for sissies. It's hard. Especially when you have to look at what you pissed on while you weren't straight. What you broke that can't be fixed. The damage you did. And someday he's going to have to realize all of this. To face the years of his daughters' lives that he can't get back. The see the damage he did to the woman that lost not only her husband but her best friend. While the three year old screams at him to get drunk and forget about it all again.

Now the good news about all of this is that the Staggs girls are made of tough stuff. Brenda is a fighter and is doing what she needs to do to take care of herself and the girls. She's also dating a firefighter who treats her well and is good to her kids. He seems very nice, kind of quite but that's okay. She gets along with his kids as well and that's important. She has stable work and a few plans in place for what happens if she has to sell the house. She also has a large support system in Tucson, people who are there for her when she needs them. Because she's smart and strong and has a giant heart. She's also learned that you can still love someone but not be able to have them in your life. Or believe them when they tell you how they are going to change and do better, no matter how much you want to believe them. But you can still love them. And she's learning that it is a special kind of hurt to love someone and not have it be enough to fix them. Which is a lesson I wish she had never had to face.

And because they have Brenda the girls aren't left to flounder on their own. I suggested that they find an Al-Anon group and start going to meetings. There are only a few people out there that understand that special kind of anger when you, as the child or the teen, are left to take care of the person that is supposed to be taking care of you. It's a safe place to admit how pissed off you are and how completely unfair it all is. And they can help you learn to say no. Because you have to learn to do that as well.

When I have friends facing addictions I am a great listener. I will hear you out as you talk about getting clean. I will support the hell out of you as you are going through rehab and once you are sober I will tell you how proud I am of you. But I won't make excuses for you to use. I won't say it's okay that you are using. I won't tell you that you are right it's not fair that you don't get to have a beer when everyone else is having one. I won't tell you that getting fall down drunk every once in awhile is okay. I won't take care of you when you are messed up. In fact I will cut you off and not deal with you at all if you keep using. Because your addiction has control of you and I won't let it control me as well.

And that's the hardest part that they all have had to learn. That his disease has control right now and they can't fix him by taking care of him more. Or loving him more. Or anything more. He has to do it himself. And he has to want it more than he wants that next drink. And I hope he does it soon. Because he has two beautiful daughters living fascinating lives that he is going to regret missing out on.

So those are my blogs about the Staggs family. I love them. I want the best for them. All of them. And I know that life isn't going to be easy. But I also know that push comes to shove these girls have each other's backs and that's what really matters.

Here come my girls....

For those of you out there that are married you know that moment of luck when you find another married couple that you get along with? Not just the wives or just the husbands or you just like one of the other couple or they like just one of you but all four of you like each other? You know how rare that is right? And then for those of you who have kids to add to the mix to find a couple that you like both of them and both of them like both of you and you all like each others kids? It's rare. We've been lucky in our married life to have had a few of those friendships and we know how lucky we are for that because we've also had a few where it was obvious that only one of them liked us and the other was tagging along to be nice or the ones where one of us only liked one of them or the kids couldn't stand each other or any combination there of. But sometimes it all works out and you have the perfect blend.

The Staggs family was like that for us from the start. We met when we moved up to Portland the first time. We were living in an apartment complex trying to decide what to do about a house and they moved in to the space diagonal from us. Now I have to say we totally bribed them into friendship the way the socially awkward do. We had cool toys. Our apartment had a little patio area and we had stuck C's outdoor toys in there. There was a slide and a sandbox and maybe something else, but it was brightly colored and looked like a mini-playground and their girls really wanted to come play, so we made them hang out with us. I'm not proud of it...

We would haul out lawn chairs on Sunday morning and drink our coffee and read the paper while the kids played. The friendship grew from there. They were from New Mexico as well so we bonded over that. Lindsey and C are the same age and Jaycee is a couple of years younger so we were going through the same parenting issues. When they found a house to buy we stalked them and moved in behind them. Well, okay, what actually happened was while we were helping them move Brenda and I decided to take a walk around the block and there was this house for sale in the neighborhood. Brent and I hadn't decided yet if we were buying or going to rent or where we would move but it wouldn't hurt to take a look right? And I fell in love with this house. It was gorgeous. Big bay window, high ceilings, giant back yard with a playhouse that matched the main house. And completely out of what our budget would be. So we looked and looked at other houses and finally gave in and bought that one. Though we did get them to lower the price a little so it wasn't so bad.

Anyway, now we were neighbors again. The kids played together we hung out together. Brenda spied on our water heater. We yelled at Jody to hush when you could hear his bark from two streets away. And we all got along. Mostly. I mean kids are kids. There would be times when C and the girls would be playing upstairs and you would hear *stomp, stomp, stomp* as they would all come down the stairs to tell you what horrible thing the others were doing. Now 9 times out of 10 it boiled down to Lindsey wanted to play one thing and C wanted to play another. Lindsey being the older sister was pretty used to things going her way. C being an only child was completely used to things going his. And Jaycee loved to pit them against each other. Oh, you didn't think we knew? We knew, baby girl, we knew.

Their personalities would come in to play then. Lindsey is the most headstrong of the three. She's always wanted things to go just so and when they don't she's not shy about letting you know she's not happy. Jaycee is our little calm in the storm. She's always been an old soul. But she's also a little sprite. More energy than you can shake a stick at. She used to use Brent as a jungle gym and when she got in to gymnastics I was amazed at the things she could do, girl could fly! So every once in awhile (or more than every once) she would stir the pot just to do it. And C? Well you all know what he is like. So he would be there trying to logic out the behavior of a 6 and 4 year old. Good times!

No, seriously, good times. We celebrated holidays and birthdays together. When we would go out as a group people had a hard time deciding which kid belonged to which set of parents and even which set of parents was a set! Since all three of the kids were little blondies most of the time it would be decided by people that it was Brent and Brenda that had the kids and Jason and I were the childless ones. I am not sure how many people we freaked out when they realized they got the pairings wrong!

Then they moved away. Then they came back. Then we moved away. Then we came back. Then they moved away. And we waited and waited and waited....

But the friendships endured. We went to visit a couple of times and we picked right up where we left off. You just know a friendship that is destined for the ages and this was it. They were the guardians for C we named in our will. We joked about going in to the nursing home together. The four of us confusing the staff when the kids came to visit and they had to figure out who belonged to whom again. It was going to be great.

Then a few years ago I started to notice that when Brenda would talk about what was going on it was always just her and the girls. Never Jason. Now I knew he worked a lot. Over the time that we've known them he's had a variety of jobs, always finding something new and better with a promotion and a move. And I knew he had to travel in his latest position so at first I sort of dismissed it as that. Then I finally had to ask what was going on. And they were splitting up. There was a story and I almost blogged about it as it was happening but that's not really my story to tell so I didn't. At the time. But during this last visit in Tucson Brenda asked me when I was going to write about them. So now it's time. Sort of...

I'm not going to get into the weeds of what happened because it's still not my story, but I am going to talk about it from the outside looking in. And how divorce and addiction and family and love and trust and all of that effects so many more people than you realize. How tied we all are. How the important people in your life aren't just in it, they are it.

But that's a heavy story and so I will post it in it's own space tomorrow. Because right now I'm washed in memories of these guys:

And I want to hold on to that for just a little bit longer.

Ranty (ish)....

Okay, so as sometimes happens I have a block in my brain that I need to remove before I can write the things I was planning on writing.

Today is the one week mark from the Boston Marathon bombings. I don't need to tell you that because the news and your Facebook feed and the radio and the newspapers will all talk about it. A lot. But in just about an hour and a half there will be a moment of silence observed to mark the time of the first explosion. The bombing itself is one of those events that will mark people that were there or connected in some way like 9/11 did for most all of us. Where were you? What do you remember? What was happening? But for me the added layer of what happened next makes me incredibly grateful that there was no Facebook/Twitter/constant barrage of crazy when the Twin Towers were hit. Because let me tell you, some of you are crazy. And your friends are even worse.

Generally when something like this happens I am one of the first to turn off my TV. I don't want to watch over and over as the horrific thing happens. I did it during 9/11. We turned off the TV and didn't go back until they were through showing the Towers falling on constant loop. I did it during Sandy Hook. How many times do you need to see children and teachers being evacuated knowing there were 26 that wouldn't be coming out to get it? I did it during this as well. I just can't see the point in watching it over and over again. And the "news" doesn't help. In the rush to be first they are throwing out every half baked idea and rumor and either spinning up the fear or spreading completely false information.

I also have to admit though that this one was harder for me than usual. Yes, 9/11 was shocking to my soul, but I was in Colorado, not New York so even though it was here in the States the strongest impact was muted for me. Talking to friends of mine who live and work in New York, their experience was completely off the charts compared to mine. Sandy Hook was horrific. These were children. The ones we all should be sworn to protect. But my child was safe. And I know that makes me sound horrible but it's true. There is a part of each of us that counts our loved ones after a tragedy and if they are all there then we feel better. Sad for other people, but with that touch of relief that it wasn't ours. But I kept tearing up when I would hear more information about Boston. Well in to the next day, and the next. And it took me awhile to figure it out.

Which then made me feel stupid for being slow. Because the answer was simple once I acknowledged the question. It's because when I did my loved ones head count after the bombing the first place I started counting was Boston. I have friends that live and work in the area, it's a state holiday though so most of them were home safe and sound. But I also had friends that were there for the marathon weekend. Shorter runs, museum visits, hanging out with other friends of theirs that were running and the marathon itself. Now thanks to Facebook I knew that Chad had finished his run around an hour before the first explosion. He's fast and he's horrible about taking the time to cool down and stretch out (which I guess I can't nag him about anymore) so I was pretty confident that they were out of the area. But my first reaction was to tag them in a status and hope for a quick note letting me know they were okay. Raquel, knowing that everyone was probably freaking out, updated her status right about that time and let us all know they were fine. So I did my one, two, three count and that should have been the end of it right?

But it wasn't. Every time they showed the picture of that smiling 8 year old boy who died waiting to cheer on his dad....well all I could do was selfishly thank the universe that it wasn't a picture of a smiling 9 year old boy. Which is awful right? But human. We always start with our circle and work out. My circle was safe, but I had to admit that they had been too close for comfort. And I knew it wasn't over for them, lock down in the hotel, press conferences a few floors down, the local news waiting at the airport to try and ambush anyone flying in from Boston to get the Northwest Connection. And the fact that they were going to be constantly pinged with "tell me what it was like" requests from all of us. Hell, I tell stories and this is a big story so someday I will sit and listen as well. When they are ready to tell it all. If that happens. Which it might not.

Because see, their circle? It's bigger than mine. It includes the families and the racers that were in the line of the explosions. That were still there. They are all connected by this drive to run far, to push themselves, to support those that do it as well. Runners all have something in common and those that run marathons bond over odd things like bathroom issues and chafed nipples that most of us think are well...weird. Knowing how much this particular event effected me, safe at home in Portland worried about my three out there, I know that it was so much worse for them. The thank goodness and what if games. So if they never ever want to talk about it again, that's okay too. Because they were there, they lived it. They own that story.

And you don't. So here is where my, thank goodness full of love and gratitude post ends and the next portion starts...

On Friday when the final manhunt started I had to shut off not only the TV but Facebook. Because of the nonsense that went up. I just want to say a few things now that I've calmed down enough not to call you all names while I do it. And I understand that this is my blog and my opinion just like the things you all posted were your opinions so disagreeing is fine. But here we go...

To those that posted the meme about blaming the bomber for this incident but we blame guns for mass shootings:

1. Quick name three bombings like this one in the United States in the past let's say 10 years. No Google, not tangential, not unsuccessful, three like this...GO! Now name three mass shootings. Too easy? Narrow it down to three in the past two years. And what were the names of the gunmen? Easy right? Tell me again how we don't blame the shooters in gun violence.

2. On that note, to those that started making posts about how we should regulate pressure cookers. See the question above about the number of bombs. And do you know how to build one? I don't. I could probably find it online and give it a try, though the margin of error would be pretty great, one would think. I have shot a gun. And the mechanics on it aren't that tough to figure out. Oh and let's not forget that the point of a pressure cooker is to cook dinner so there is that, you know, main use for it. Nice try though.

3. In fact to anyone who decided that Monday was the time to try and tie your gun issues (either way) in to this tragedy that had NOTHING to do with guns I say, well, and trust me this is calmer than I was...With all due respect, fuck you.

To those that decided that this was a "false flag" from our government to either, A. Distract us from whatever your pet pay attention to this item is or B. Prepare us all to be under martial law:

1. Let me help you pack. Seriously. If you live here and you honestly believe that your government is like this you should move. Find someplace else to go. Take all of your friends who believe the same thing and go. Find an island someplace where you can start your own commune and live happily ever after.

2. Yes, you think I'm a sheep for thinking you are paranoid. I get that. I also get that the images from Friday were intense. And I'm not sure if they were necessary. But that's because I wasn't there. I wasn't in the middle of it, and I know how it ended. It's so much easier to go back and see how things went when well...you know how they went. So forgive me for thinking it must be a terrifying life you live thinking that the government is out to get you.

For those that posted about the US needing perspective because bombings happen all the time in other places and we should just....

We should just what? Be okay with it? Should we be okay with it anywhere? Do you think that human compassion is limited? And because we mourn our dead yours don't matter? Or because you have more dead ours don't? We mourn the three dead and the hundreds wounded in Boston partly because of the fact that it was unexpected. Because we aren't in the middle of a war zone (we have had many Americans injured by IEDs over the past decade) it was in the middle of a race. So trying to make a point about our lack of compassion and perspective makes you look like an ass. No offense...

For those that were trying their hardest to assign blame to your pet hated group before we knew anything. Oh it must have been the Tea Party! It must have been the Saudi kid! It must have been whoever I want it to have been to fit my world view.

Shut up. Just shut up. The next time something like this happens just shut up. Wait and see. Get the facts, the real ones, not the circle jerk you and your friends are participating in with half fueled rumors and "sources saying" but the ones that take awhile to actually be known in a situation like this one. I know we all want instant answers to our questions and we have gotten pretty used to being able to find out pretty much everything at the touch of a button, but during something like this getting the facts takes time. Instead of filling the void with bullshit just be patient.

Now I'm sure I've offended a few of you out there. Maybe more than a few. And right now I'm okay with that. Because I will tell you one thing that holds true from last week for me. I am grateful. Deeply and solidly grateful. Because this picture was taken April 17th, two days after the bombings.

And I don't need any other perspective right now than that....