I was tagged by OrdinaryLife to list 8 things that you probably don’t know about me. I have never been tagged in this sense of the word, so I am all excited…and stuff. I have decided to break this into 8 entries, to milk it, and also to explain the items in more mind-numbing detail.
My first marathon embarrasses the hell out of me.
I had always been a good runner. It was an easy thing to do – all I needed was a pair of shoes, socks, shorts and a shirt. It was an inexpensive way to stay in shape and a sure-fire way to ease stress or calm down when I was upset. It was also an easy thing to do sporadically. I could NOT run for weeks, months even, and then pick it up very quickly.
Now although I was a good runner, I was never a fast runner. Track in sixth grade had shown that to be true. I would do very very poorly on the short races, but would shorten the loss a bit on the longer ones. Still, I never won a race, but it didn’t matter in the least to me. I liked that there was something I could do that made me feel like I belonged to some specialized group, if that makes sense.
I ran in high school a bit, but was not serious about it. I ran in college to stay in shape, but didn’t compete and did not run regularly. And, I ran after I had kids and needed desperately to lose the post-baby weight. I think this might have been when I fell in love with running. I loved the solitude. I spent all day working and all evening with the kids. There was no alone time, no time to call my own. However when I was running? It was all about me. I could run where I wanted. I could stop when I wanted. I could stay out there for hours running and nobody would ask me to do anything – and it was glorious. I began running almost every day when the girls were around 4 and 5 years old. It was, as I said, a wonderful escape from everything else going on around me.
Somewhere in the middle of all of this running, I decided to train for a marathon. I cannot remember when, or why – but I became obsessed with the idea of running in the Chicago Marathon. And I trained my ass off. I of course did all of the wrong things: I had never bought new running shoes. I was wearing the same ones I had in high school. I ran on concrete, never mixing in trails, grass, or even blacktop. I increased mileage based on nothing scientific or logical. I ran myself ragged if you want to know the truth. I loved it, but my body had a hard time adjusting.
In the summer of 1995, 4 months before the marathon I was training for, I developed a stress fracture in my left leg. It hurt to walk. There was no way to run without causing more pain than I could endure, so I had to rest it for a few months and start all over. I remember trying to contact a doctor in South Carolina that claimed he could fix a stress fracture in a matter of weeks. I figured we would be there on vacation anyway, so he could just make everything better while I was there… but the whole process sounded a bit sketchy (oh my god, the guy was strange, strange, strange) and it didn’t seem like it was worth the risk of ending up crippled. So, I bagged the marathon that year and set my sights on 96.
I recovered from the stress fracture, bought new shoes, and learned how to train without injuring myself. I started with small distances and built up gradually, alternating running surfaces, times, days. I took days off. I was very watchful of any overuse injuries and backed off when I could feel my body being taxed.
I ran the marathon in 96. I thought I was ready. I was certain that I had trained enough, and had visions of finishing in 4 – 4:30 hours. Oh, I am a funny one. I have no idea what I was basing anything on. I had of this date not run in anything other than a few short races – all of which had put me running around 8:30 minutes per mile. In short races. So – I assumed I could do that for 26.2. Let’s call this MISTAKE 1.
I did fine for about the first 12 miles. Around the half-way point, I started feeling sick. I had trained with a drink called XLR8, and yet had decided to drink Gatorade in the race. I could not imagine there was a difference…Let’s call this MISTAKE 2. I spent a lot of time feeling like I was going to throw up, and some time actually doing it. It was horrible. I considered not finishing, but couldn’t face dropping out, so I continued on, very slowly.
I finished in just over 5 hours, not last, but nowhere near where I thought I would have. It was a horrible feeling. I had anticipated doing so well. I had trained for two years (although I had not trained properly based on knowledge I have now), I had endured injuries, I had in my mind done everything I could to be prepared for the race, and had finished with a time I was embarrassed to share with anyone. I even told one person at work I had finished in a shorter time than I had (MISTAKE 3) …which was really stupid, since they PUBLISH THOSE RESULTS ON THE WEB PEOPLE! She knew what my time had really been, and I ended up looking like a punk.
My lack of preparation was very evident after the race. I was so sore that evening that I couldn’t walk down stairs without completely relying on the railing to help me (MISTAKE 4). I couldn’t get into and out of a cab without help. And I lost most of my toenails. Apparently shoes should be a little bit bigger when running to allow room for your toes in the “toebox” so that you don’t – oh, smash them continuously into the front of your shoe, causing them to bleed under the nail and then separate from your skin (MISTAKE 5)! Who knew?
I have run another marathon since - Austin - a few years ago. I finished with a much better time, although did not end up with anything stellar. I managed to avoid all of the previous 5 mistakes, and I came in around 4 ½ hours which I was quite proud of. I felt as though finishing without puking was an accomplishment, and I kept all of my toenails…so there was less that.
I am not training for a ½ marathon that takes place in February. And by training, I really mean – I am thinking about training, because…I have not run one single time since signing up for the thing. When thinking about this yesterday it occurred to me what happened the last time I was totally unprepared for a run (see above) and have decided that training starts TODAY.
Now, before I am done with all 8, I am going to pass on this lovely task to two other fellow friends. Why Me, and Cate, have at it!
I was tagged by OrdinaryLife to list 8 things that you probably don’t know about me. I have never been tagged in this sense of the word, so I am all excited…and stuff. I have decided to break this into 8 entries, to milk it, and also to explain the items in more mind-numbing detail.
So I spent some time chatting with a friend who is much smarter than me in all things creative, and she suggested that I make some changes on my stupid phone to enhance the picture resolution, or perhaps change the rotation of the earth. Either way, picture looks the same to me, but as she said "Just think of the fuzziness to be a special effect. Can't really expect great pictures to come from a camera phone."
A special effect. That is what I will call it. And, any day I look crappy I will refer to that as a special effect...see? Those dark circles under my eyes are not really there - it is a SPECIAL EFFECT!!!
Will somebody please tell me why my camera on my phone takes such crappy pictures, because I cannot use these...they are fuzzy. I have a dozen FUZZY pictures and no clue what is wrong.
I get in my car, turn on the music. It drowns out the outside noises.
I get out of the car, iPod plugged into my ears.
I step into the elevator. The one other person is on a conference call, I am still listening to music.
We stop on floor 1. Another person gets on, fidgeting with their sunglasses – anything to avoid eye contact or god forbid, speaking to anyone.
I get off on floor 3, and round the corner to my office. I will be here all day. I will listen to music, participate in meetings, and will not see a single person all day.
Wow, that is depressing. When did we all become so opposed to speaking to others, reaching out, making friends, engaging in small-talk? When did we all so willingly start isolating ourselves?
I am constantly in awe at Cassie's artistic eye, her ability to seep creativity out of her every pore. Her drawings, her paintings - they all amaze me. And I have to admit that I am a bit jealous. I wish I had known how much I loved art at her age. She is able to take such amazingly simple ideas and turn them into something thought-provoking, beautiful, and different.
How is an artist born? Do we all have that creativity inside us, and only some tap into it, build on it, perfect it? Is it like common sense - either you have it or you don't? Or is it learned? I can be creative at times, but it seems like work to me. For Cassie, it seems to be part of who she is. It doesn't appear to take a lot of work on her part. I have always been drawn to the arts, but have never excelled at them. I am more of a business-focused, results-driven kind of girl. Give me a business issue and I will work to solve it. Give me someone to yell at and I love biting their head off. Give me a creative project and I hem and haw (Where did that idiom come from anyway?) over it until I have killed it dead.
I seem to be fresh out of writing thoughts today. Work has consumed almost every moment since 8:30 this morning, and I am just now coming up for breath. What I had anticipated to be a slow day is turning out to be nothing of the sort.
I have some airline miles that are going to expire. I have to book a trip now so that I don’t lose them. Or…I could just lose them. It is not like I want to spend the money on a fancy trip this year. Even when the airfare is free there is still lodging, food, misc. stuff I never anticipate. I think I have just talked myself out of doing anything useful with those miles. Now, if I could use them to Christmas shop, that would help. According to this article, I don’t think I am the only one disenchanted with airline miles. They are all over, and almost useless.
Cassie has a job. She works a lot. Sadly, this means I will see less of her. I cannot imagine what this will do to her grades…but not my call. Her dad forced it on her. He also told her that he would match any money she saves in her bank account for the purchase of a car. This made me pretty angry. I don’t think he will give her the money…but it’s more than that. I just KNOW that he is doing it to continue having some manner of control over her. He just won’t let go so that she can be her own person. He HAS to feel in control all the time. Without that, he feels useless. I remember that about him, and it drove me crazy. When he does things like this I wonder what in the hell I was thinking when I married him. Seriously. What in the hell?
Roark and Cole are potty-training themselves (knock on wood). They have taken to running around without pants in the evening and using the potty whenever they have to go. It certainly seems like the less organized way to go about the whole potty training process, however they like it and it appears to be working.
Our biggest challenge so far has been trying to convince them that they don’t have to be completely naked to go to the bathroom. Last night we were able to talk them into keeping their socks and shirts on, but then this morning Cole was stripping down announcing “I have to pee-pee in potty”. So I don’t think they really get it. It is cute, so we have that going for us. Which is nice.
I keep reverting back to the online stores, thinking I will find the deal of a lifetime and will have my faith in online shopping restored, but it is not to be. Everywhere I turn they are charging insane amounts of money for shipping, which could be avoided if I would cart myself to the damn store already. $60.00 worth of stuff at
I love it when I argue with myself.
I have been dealing with continual chest pain for a couple of weeks now. When my blood pressure started acting wonky a few nights ago (really low diastolic) I decided to play doctor and see if I could figure out what was wrong, saving myself a trip to the heart guy. Having now given up caffeine and sugar, I feel much improved. The chest pain is only slight and the blood pressure is back to normal. I probably still need to go to the doctor and make sure that I am not killing myself, but eating and drinking NOTHING FUN seems to be the answer. Wow – this is a blast. First no alcohol. Then no fat. Now no caffeine or sugar. What is left you ask? Well, green leafy vegetables are out because of the blood clot medicine. That leaves chicken breast, carrots, and potatoes maybe? I could really spice things up with a little ground turkey or green beans… you know, if I need some variety.
So – the alcohol. I was wondering what it would be like to face a holiday without wine, beer, Baileys - all of the liquor I loved so much. It wasn’t bad. My father-in-law didn’t serve any with Thanksgiving dinner. I imagine he did this for me – and THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THAT! I think it would have been much more difficult if everyone else had been drinking all day. We don’t have any alcohol at home, so it was not a big deal there…although Friday evening I was craving a bottle of wine. The feeling passed pretty quickly, and I didn’t think about it much after that. Overall, it was much easier than I had anticipated.
Thanksgiving was nice. After spending the day with Todd’s dad and his family, we hung out at home the rest of the weekend. It was unfortunately cold and rainy here, so the boys couldn’t go outside. This doesn’t sound like a big deal until you realize that they spend most of their waking hours playing outside. They come in to eat and take a nap. Otherwise, they are outside all the time. That posed a challenge for us. We tried teaching them to play Candyland and Chutes and Ladders. We made several unnecessary trips to the store in order to kill time. We bought them a few books, and we watched a LOT of Shrek. We were all quite happy to see the sun out this morning, and the boys were begging to “go walking” at 8:00am. It is cold out (41), but at least there is no rain, so I imagine they will spend a good chunk of the morning at the park making up for the many days spent inside with their boring parents.
I slept a lot this past weekend. Had many very bazaar dreams. And now I am left thinking about them trying to figure out where in the world they came from and if they mean anything at all. I doubt it, but it is fun to think about anyway.
This kitchen faucet is so expensive that it makes me cry just a little bit. We bought the stupid thing to replace ours and although I love the pull out spout just a little too much for an inanimate object, I keep wondering when things like faucets became so damn expensive. Seriously. When?
Our 7 year old black lab is in need of a new home. If you know of anyone in the north texas area that is interested, please let me know.
Did I mention that I signed up for a ½ marathon? I have not run once since I did that. It is not exactly the motivator I was searching for. I had better get moving though, because the run is in February. Going from 0 to 13 miles is going to take some training…and I no longer believe that if I ignore it, it will go away.
Thanksgiving was nice. Quiet. I like quiet.
I have to work today, and already at 7:30am I am dreading it. It just feels wrong to be working today. Although, most days it feels wrong to be working, so I guess this is nothing special. It is unfortunate that work is insanely busy right now, or I could squeeze in some time off. But no.
32 days left to get shopping done for Christmas. I have not done enough to even mention. Last year at this time, I was almost done. However because Amazon shipping can kiss my ass, I will have to do actual shopping. The horror. Making lists, going to stores, waiting in line. It is a giant time-suck that I really hate participating in.
The boys are watching Dora. Like I have to tell you that, even. Although, thank GOD they have a new interest - Shrek. We don't know when or why they began liking it, but it is a nice break from Dora. Although I imagine that after the 5 bajillionth time we have seen it, we will welcome Dora into our loving arms.
Dinner tonight - leftovers. Does anyone do anything different the day after Thanksgiving? Because pizza sounds REALLY GOOD.
Amazon wanted to charge me $13.00 to ship a $32.00 toy. Not even expedited shipping, just the standard “whenever it gets there, it gets there” shipping. They suck. I decided I was NOT going to buy anything from them this year for Christmas. NOT A THING. I am going to haul my butt to a real store (more likely that I will have to haul butt to MANY stores and will spend more on gas than I would on shipping – but at least I will feel like I STUCK IT TO THE MAN because I know they care) and buy presents that way.
A guy walked into the coffee shop, talking on his cell phone. And I SWEAR TO GOD HE SAID THIS: Well, you must have been a cheerleader in high school. I mean – you have GREAT pompoms.
Well let’s see. I have new pictures, but Cassie has my camera and the memory card – so I won’t be sharing those anytime soon. I even fixed the eyebrow issue and have photographic proof – but since I don’t have them uploaded, you will have to envision it yourselves. Sorry – didn’t mean to scar you with such images…
Roark has been sick. This meant that he slept in our bed last night. He didn’t so much sleep as he did flail around kicking and mumbling all night. How do kids survive on such HORRIBLE sleep habits? I t has left me feeling sluggish and sleepy and a little bitter. But, he seems a little better today – so maybe, just *maybe* tonight will be better.
Work…work is interesting. Which leads me to a dilemma. People I work with read some of my silly little thoughts here. That is my fault. Now I need to know how to fix this issue…because here is the deal: work takes a lot of my time and energy and sometimes, man – it just KICKS MY ASS. And I feel all guilty and funny talking about that when I know that people who work for me and with me read this. And I feel strange NOT talking about it, because…well, it is a large part of my day, my life, you know? What to do, what to do…
In other news, Cassie ordered her cap and gown and I now feel 3 gazillion years old. So I have that going for me, which is nice.
This weekend is shaping up to be full of nothing. How about yours?
I bring a bunch uh bunch uh blankies. Uhhhhkayyyy.
I’m go me bed. Uhhhh Ohhhh.
Ohhh. Ruff. Doggies back. Pow. I’m silly. Whoooooooaaa.
I am seldom doing nothing. I realized exactly how much I am CONSTANTLY doing while I was trying to work with the "not so much help" desk today. Something on my laptop wasn't working, so I called the dreaded people on the other end of the world to assist. The "analyst" took control of my laptop and began uninstalling and reinstalling programs trying to fix the issue. While they were in control of my PC, I was unable to do anything except watch.
Do you know how crazy this made me?
I could not keep my hands off of my mouse. I kept trying to do things while they were "fixing the problem" and of course kept getting yelled at. I felt like I should be doing SOMETHING - ANYTHING... anything other than the NOTHING I was doing.
When I thought about this - I came to the realization that I don't ever do nothing. I don't veg out. I don't really just relax - listen to music - do nothing. Not EVER. Is this normal?
Oh, and in case you are wondering... NO. They did not fix the problem. They never fix the problem. Why are they employed?
To the man driving the black Lexus headed west on Legacy this morning around 8:30 - YOU ARE A SUCKY DRIVER!!!
Why is hold music so annoying? If I have to listen to that flute-playing, drum machine, 1980's music for one more minute - I cannot be held responsible for what I might do.
Scene: Sitting on the floor, holding my sacred cup of morning coffee, staring off into the distance. Cole is sitting on my lap, petting the cat. Roark is nearby leaning on the chair.
Roark: (begins crawling around on the floor, brushing up against the chair) “Mamma! I am kitty cat. Meeeoooowwww. Meeeeeeeeeoooooooowwwww! Am kitty. Meooooow. See me mamma? Am kitty cat.”
Cole will spend long periods of time hanging out with his cars, driving them around, creating roads out of my arms, feet, the table. He seems enthralled in his little car world during these times, mumbling to himself, or sharing with me. “Car driving. Mamma is road.”
Roark, however, does not spend much time pretending. I had not really thought about this until this morning when Roark was instantly transformed into a cat. This may be the first time I have seen him venture off into the not-so-real. I wonder if there is anything to this? What does creativity as a toddler mean later in life, if anything?
I tried to think back to being young…was I creative when I was little? I was. I played with my stuffed animals and dolls. I played house and doctor. My brother and I invented whole other worlds in our backyard and the playground. I was older than the boys are now, but I spent a great deal of time in pretend land.
I also tried to think about when all of the pretending stopped. It doesn’t come naturally to me now – it seems like work sometimes to get into Cole’s little pretend world. Where did that kind creativity go? I enjoy writing. I love to draw. I like photography and nature. Is that where all of the creative pieces of me are now, or did they just shut down when I was faced with so much reality that I didn’t have any time for the pretend worlds of yesterday?
Cassie is having such a tough time at her dad’s. She tells me about it, trying not to make it seem like a big deal, but the fact that she is mentioning it at all means it is a HUGE DEAL. Her step-mom, Heather, is being horrible to her. Even
The issues are mostly little things…but the little things always add up to something bigger, don’t they? They won’t let Cassie take a shower after 9:00 pm because it wakes Heather up. So, Cassie tries to take a shower when she gets home from school, before dinner, or right after dinner. Unless one of Heather’s boys wants to take a shower…then Cassie has to wait and hope there is time to get one in before Heather goes to bed. The boys are always “first” in Heather’s eyes.
They will not allow her to have her cell phone at their house. I purchased and pay for it – therefore she cannot use it there. If they find it in her room, school bag or anywhere over there, they will get rid of it.
Her car broke down recently. They are not going to fix it. They are also not going to get her another one. They told her to buy her own. This is the same car that they put tires on for Cassie’s sixteenth birthday present. She wants to keep the tires, just to be a pain to them, but doesn’t even get to do that.
She finally fell apart yesterday and practically begged me to talk to Heather or her dad – to do SOMETHING to make them stop being so awful. I talked to Todd, and we just cannot see an upside to doing this. Her dad will not be responsive to ANYTHING I have to say. He will simply retaliate by sticking absolutely to the divorce decree – not letting me pick them up from school, or being flexible in any manner. This would significantly cut down on the time we have together. Neither her dad nor Heather will be any nicer to Cassie as a result of any discussion I have with them, and it may in fact make things substantially worse for her, and possibly for
All I want to do is scoop her up and bring her home with me…where she can be happy and spend these next six months before she goes to college without all of the pain and misery she is experiencing…and yet, there is so little I can do. Trying to get a lawyer to change anything will take months, and she only has 6 until she is 18, and can do whatever she wants.
I was listening to Matchbox 20’s How Far We’ve Come this morning with Cassie in the car. She mentioned that she was singing this to herself the other night when her dad and Heather were yelling at her – especially the two lines:
Started crying and I couldn't stop myself
I started running but there was no where to run to
It upset me so much to hear how much they are effecting her. She is a brilliant, fun, fantastic girl and they are destroying her soul. It really makes me want to do …something. Although I have no idea what. I cannot expect her dad or Heather to be reasonable human beings who sit down and listen to me and act in an appropriate manner to fix the situation. They are not capable of that.
And yet I am doing nothing. I am not talking to them and it feels wrong and awful and horrible. I have been going over and over this in my head - making myself sick trying to come up with SOMETHING that will fix it all. And then I realized something. Something big…and important. And it calmed me.
Parenting is about not being able to fix everything… it is about giving your children the ability to cope with problems and then silently standing by watching them work through the issues, finding a resolution, and growing into adults during the whole process. It is all about gearing up to let go of your child. It is heart-wrenching, it is difficult. It is so very difficult, but it has a purpose. She has chosen this path, she is learning to manage it…and she will be OK. We both will.
This is an annual thing at our house - our dumb-ass dog keeps injuring himself. Our vet must think we abuse the poor guy. His head is not being shown because I suck as a photographer, not because I am trying to help him retain some dignity...
We are at the coffee shop, both working. Todd is outside on a conference call - trying to avoid sharing the amazingly horrible music playing on the speakers with his co-workers. I am inside, with a perfect view of the world – and yet all I can look at is my amazing husband, sitting in the sun, legs outstretched, arm over his head. He is stretching, talking, grinning at the conversations rolling around both on the phone and in his head. He is beautiful.
The boys talk a LOT. While we don’t understand everything they are saying, we do make a best guess, repeat what we think they have said, and hopefully this will encourage any and all speaking attempts… Because dude, it is SO MUCH EASIER to parent a toddler when you know what in the hell they want! What this means is that we have many, many, many instances where we have no freaking idea what they are saying and end up repeating jibberish, obscene things, or something completely off target. It is fun though. And oddly, it seems to happen most often with Cole. I am not sure if Roark speaks more clearly or if he just doesn’t branch out as much.
Witness a few examples of our little banter / educational (us being educated – not so much the boys) speaking game:
Example the First:
Cole: “uks hooving”
Me: Realizing I have NO FREAKING IDEA what he has just said “huh?”
Cole: “UKS HOOVING” dumbass (the Dumbass understood and not actually spoken, but would have been if he knew the word better)
Me: “Ducks moving?”
Cole: WTF? “UKS HOOVING!!!”
Me: “Ducks, hoofing it?”
Cole: exploding into giggles "No, Mamma - Uks hoooooooving"
Me: “Ah, yes. Trucks. Moving”
Example the Second:
Cole: “Pank doruhhh”
Me to Todd: “Did you hear that? He said SPANK DORA”
Cole: “Pank doruhhhh”
Me: “Ummm, what was that Cole? Did you say SPANK DORA?”
Cole: “Spank Dora” followed by laughter (insinuating what a dumbass I really am)
Me: I look down at magazine on the table, which is opened to a page sporting a PINK DORA ball. “Pink Dora?”
Cole: “SPANK DORA!!!”
Me: Going to hell for thinking how awesome I am for having taught him to say "Spank Doray". What am I, six?
Roark: “I want pancake”
Me: (ignoring him – trying to get him dressed)
Roark: “I want pancake, I want PANCAKE. I want pancake. I want pancake. I want pancake."
Me: “I want world peace”
Roark: “I want world peace…of PANCAKE”
Cole: “Pizza pancake? I want Pizza pancake!”
It was a hectic morning full of trips to school and the doctor and work and the vet and back to work. I am in my office now thinking about the disaster that was my morning, and for some reason it isn’t making me nauseous. That is a first.
I was up and out the door by 5:40 to run. It was tough, and I blame the fire we had last night. Todd threw some mesquite in the fire pit and we nearly choked from the smoke…my lungs are not happy about it still today. I think that if they were not burning, I would have had a pretty easy run.
As I was driving to work after dropping Cassie off at school, I started thinking about how much I like her. Yes, she is my daughter – but I really like her. She is funny and honest and I just really enjoy her company. I am sure there are laws against being friends with your children. I think that the whole “parent / friend” thing makes parenting difficult. I wish Brittany and I were that close, but we just are not. I love them both equally, but Brittany and I seem to argue more and just don’t have as much in common. There. I said it, and the world didn't end. I get along better with one of my children. I may be a bad parent, but by god, I am honest.
I miss drinking so much that I find myself telling total strangers this un-asked for fact. They tilt their head a little and look at me in that sad “awww, that poor little girl doesn’t have a home” kind of way and say nothing. Why do I even find it necessary to tell anyone about my longing for a drink? It doesn’t make it easier to get through the day and I am beginning to believe that it is making me look like the kid with no friends. I am a moron.
I need a drink.
I NEED a drink.
I need A drink.
I need a DRINK.
I NEED A DRINK!
Work is difficul. Being gone 5 months has made it as if I was never here. I don’t’ remember how to do half of the things I used to (approving time and other misc. crap), and the other half of my tasks have changed. There are new systems, new processes, new people. A lot of people from my team were transferred to another group, which although this was anticipated to happen at some point, seems so strange now. Everything has changed. And it makes me feel like I have a completely new job. It gives me tired head.
There was some trick-or-treating, although the Cole and Roark appeared to “tolerate” it as opposed to “enjoy” it.
There was candy-handing-out, which the boys loved. They seemed to truly enjoy watching big kids startled and/or scared by our decorations. The clown drove the teenagers and parents wild. I think it was the creepy music and stabbing of the knife that got them.
There was hanging out with Cassie, who stuck around to help with the candy-handing-out, and trick-or-treating.
There was the missing of
There was an attempted candy-snatching by me. I stole a 3 Musketeers bar from Cole and literally gagged! Those rat bastards have made those things FLAVORED…like strawberry. What was wrong with the chocolate? For the love of God – they messed with my favorite candy bar. I found that seriously disturbing.
There were late bedtimes all around, full of slight grumpiness and sadness that the day was over.