Día del Padre

Happy Father’s day, Mom.  You’ve been a great dad.

• Because you taught me to find solace on the road.  
• 2005:  you put 1,220 miles between me and my problems that seemed so momentous at the time.  This infected me with the wanderlust and forever changed me. 
• Because you always hand back the five when they give you too much change. 
• 1999:  Showcase Cinemas Huber Heights.  
• Because you’re really into boxing now. 
• 2011:  Proof that you’re as strong as I’ve always thought.  
• Because when I was in elementary school, you were the mom who made sure the kids who couldn’t afford glue sticks and markers had all the supplies they needed. 
• 2000:  We didn’t have that much money to spare but Michael and Brandon had even less. 
• Because when I was in 8th grade and wore fishnets and combat boots to school, you were proud of me for being my own person, even though the 11th graders called me a skank.  
• 2004:  You said the Ghostbuster T-shirt looked sharp with the boots. 
• Because you had the strength and education to save us from a situation that could have ruined our lives. 
• 1996:  We ran from his addiction. 

 I love you Mom/Dad.  You're my best friend. [And I'm not just saying that because you buy me margaritas.]

Oh, and you too.

Every night before bed I make a gratitude list and there are items that are permanently at the top.  [My mom, my brother, grandma, Bob, Mr. Anderson]  People come first.  I'm so unbelievably gracious for the friends I have and the love, laughter and support they are responsible for. 

Subsequently, my thankfulness extends to the opportunities that make me better. 

I am grateful for:
the Lutheran university that currently employs me.
said university's close proximity to Chicago.
the colorful and brilliant individuals who populate aforementioned university.
the growth this experience is cultivating.
Guinness
my solar powered flashlight.

If your eyes are dancing with these words, I hope you don't have to delve too deep to find your gratitude.  Try to keep it close and pull it out often.  It is important and humbling to say thank you, even if you don't know who you're saying it too. 

Centennial

This is my 100th post!  I can only hope that I get to live as many years, love as many people, and see as many sunrises.

Continuing at this rate means my bicentennial post won’t appear until 2014 (I’m obviously a prolific blogger).  Because my blogging behavior can be considered sporadic and trivial I figured my 100th post should mean something, that it should celebrate the most important thing I’ve ever had to say. 

I’m still sorting out what I want to say to this world I don’t understand, so it’s the thing I know to be true.

Don't Worry,

I'm a professional rescuer and I know what to do.  

If you're reading this, I'll probably save your life someday.  

(Unless you're an infant, in which case I may accidentally break your neck while doing rescue breathing and I'm real sorry about that.)

Bedtime for Bedbugs.

She goes home to a place where the walls don’t remember her. If they could talk they wouldn’t. They’ve got no stories to tell. Sipping water out of wine glasses in the wee hours of the morning to avoid the rising sun. She wants to read words. To breathe them, devour them, to chase them with a shot of who cares anymore. She wants her words to burn on the way down. Not bible thin pages but your Rosetta stone. To understand. The mingling fortune cookie wisdom and postmodern reconstruction gasp for breath in her globally warmed mind. Sometimes we talk about religion. Sometimes we’re soggy like newspaper caught in the rain.