Pink Day

About a month ago, my SIL called me to ask if I wanted to do the Race for the Cure with her. Without any hesitation I said yes. I've had a 10k on the brain for about a year. On the brain and on the feet are two different things. But this, I thought, would actually push me to do something. And half of a 10k is way more than I'd run in a long time.

I had done this event once many years ago when I lived in Sacramento. It was a fluke thing where I had planned to walk but ended up running the whole way thanks to my buddy who pushed me and cheered me along. That was the first time in my life I had run three miles straight. We didn't even check to see what our time was.

I've run that distance a few times since and hated every single second of it. 

I started out slow. About a 12-minute mile on the treadmill. Then PK suggested I make an 11-minute mile my goal. I ran at that pace shortly thereafter. It was hard work. Once I could run the 5k consistently; albeit slow, I tried mixing things up: four miles at a 12 pace; two miles at a 10 pace. I had no idea if what I was doing was effective in any way, and I didn't have the luxury of time on my side to worry about it.

The day was fast approaching. There was no fighting it. I would do this thing and acknowledge the ladies that did fight and who continue to fight a bigger battle than I can ever imagine.

D went out a couple of days before and bought me a new pair of shoes. His gesture was so touching to me. They were pretty and they were pink.

Unfortunately, the shoes never hit the pavement on race day. I found them on the living room floor when I came home a few hours after the run was over. Lucky for me KK came through and let me borrow hers. 

The weather was perfect and the atmosphere was rockin'.

Running outside proved to be as grueling as I expected. It was for that reason that I didn't set a time goal for myself . Running in the comfort of a climate-controlled environment, on a flat and padded surface is easier than pounding the concrete and taking in the elements. I knew what I was getting myself into, and as long as I ran the whole way at no more than a 12mpm pace, I'd be good.

My SIL, on the other hand, kicked butt. She hates to run and probably hadn't even run around the block in years :), but she trained hard, set a time goal for herself, and met it. In a very short time and with an aching knee. A weaker woman would have used that as an excuse to stop, but not her. Her mom is a breast cancer survivor and her inspiration for the run. She comes from a family of women warriors! I am so proud of her. And I'm sure her mom is too.

Way to go, KK!

I met some figurative bumps along the way as well, the details of which I won't get into here. I didn't push through them like KK did, but up until I stopped at about the 2.87 mile mark I was okay with it. Soon after starting again I saw D and the kids at what I thought was the finish line and I lost it. I don't know who I think I let down, but I was overcome with emotion.

Finally, after what seemed like forevah, I crossed the finish line. At first glance, when I looked at my time, 36.9, my tantrum from a few minutes before was all but forgotten. Today, when I looked at the official results, I felt some disappointment. If the timing chip is to be believed and I came in at  36.3, then the answer to the question of whom I let down, would be nobody. I left the Seattle Center knowing I could have done better, but it would be easier to take if I hadn't come in under my time "goal," if that's what we're calling it. It's like watching your team get beat by one point....you'd rather they just got their butt kicked.

I'll get over it. Or maybe not. But that will be my motivation for next time.

Thanks, KK, for a great day ♥♥

Griswold Out.

(To my kids: I want you to know that I wasn't completely honest  when I told you that I cried because I was tired and just so happy to see you. I was somewhat tired and I was happy to see you, but I was also really mad and threw a tantrum because things didn't go my way ~ yes, the same thing I tell you not to do. A perfect example of do as I say, not as I do. You should also know that when I say  I stopped, I did just that.....I stopped, regrouped, and after about 30 seconds continued on. I never walked :)

Picture Perfect

I had the pleasure of having my mom in town today. We dropped M off at preschool, went to Macy's; I got spoiled as usual by her. We picked up M and went to Applebees.

A few hours later, we met D at Fujiyama. We had a wonderful and entertaining dinner. The kids were generous in their choice of a gift.

Dessert came next...an ice cream cake at home.

.......................................................................MY BIRTHDAY

It was a picture-perfect day.

Come to Momma

This weekend, D decided to take the kids to Corvallis for a visit with his parents. And not only that! It's lambing season to boot! Who could pass that up, right? Apparently NOT my hubby and kids, that's who! This is the second year in a row that somehow my FIL has managed to coerce them into making the three-hour drive in an attempt to watch a sheep give birth.

I'm not as easily convinced. And just like last year, I decided to sit this one out.

One of my favorite things to do is to hang out at home when it's quiet and clean. Unfortunately, that seldom happens for more than a couple of hours at a time; hours which are usually spent cleaning in hopes that I can sit down and enjoy the fruits of my labor for a few minutes before the truck pulls up, the three musketeers come strolling in, and the house is messy in a snap!

They left Friday afternoon. I had a previous engagement at J's school that I attended but cut short at the last minute. I wouldn't have bailed out had it been a big deal, but since it wasn't, I didn't want it cutting into MY time. I went out and got some food to bring home, poured myself a glass of wine, and sat by the TV catching up on shows.

Saturday morning was glorious. I woke up to quiet......I stayed in bed for a few minutes and just listened to nothing. Once I got up I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat on the couch watching yet more shows until I decided to stay home all day and tackle my craft closet. It was a daunting task but one that I'm happy to report is almost done. That evening I headed out to dinner with the ladies of the neighborhood. We had good food and conversation. And then I came home, watched more TV, and headed off to bed.

Another quiet morning awaited me. At 9:25 I went to Safeway to pick up some meat for dinner. By 10 it was sitting in the Crock Pot waiting for my peeps to get home. I worked on the craft closet a bit more, went to Barnes and Noble to get a Nook issue dealt with; even spent a few minutes on the phone with them once I got back. Got it fixed, scraped a page, took a shower, organized some pictures, and at about 4:30 greeted the family at the door.

While it's nice to have the time to unwind, I can't imagine doing that day after day. My beloved quiet would probably drive me mad.

I can't really say that I missed them, but they were only gone 49 hours ~ That's not a typo. It was 49 ~ However, I'm very grateful that they're mine; that they're home is here. With me.

That doesn't mean they're not available for loan, not at all. They just have to come to momma after a couple of days.

A Decade Later

Ten years ago today I left the house on Conrad Drive that I had lived in for so long; the place where I, for all intents and purposes, grew up; the place that once had so much life and where my father lost his.

It was a day filled with emotions. On the one hand, the excitement of moving to a different state and starting a new life with my future husband. On the other, seeing the tear-stained face of the woman who had never needed me more than she did at that time.

With my veladora in hand, I turned away. Since then I have married, become a mom, and moved another two times. I've endured happy times as well as sad ones. I've worked at my trade and have taken on a new one. My life is as it is now because I took that step; the same step that led me to a place where I found a strength and resolve that I never knew existed within me.

Looking back now, leaving there was like a breath of fresh air. I felt so liberated. So light. Even with the stresses of being a new mom and moving to DC, I knew I had made the right choice and that I was where I needed to be. Our move to WA State 5 years later was like a homecoming. I was back on the West Coast and an hour-plus away from Sacramento.

About a year ago, D's work began a restructure where the opportunity for us to move back might be on the table. It's been a long process and now it seems as though we'll be here for a little bit more. The logical side of me knows that it's the best option for now. Our house is worth much less than what we paid for it, J's school is wonderful, and the position D would take on would be one that would leave room for another move. To another state. So staying here is the best option. I really do get that. And yet I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit disappointed. Even with all the stresses that particular move would bring.

While my life has seen many changes, not much has changed there; and it's the same things that drove me away that are now calling me home.

Keep Your Eye on the Hike

Aside from the occasional headache, I've always had the good fortune of being relatively healthy. I hardly get colds, and my last blood test showed my blood pressure, sugar, and cholesterol levels as normal. When I was pregnant with M ~ at the ripe age of 42 ~ my OB was always amazed at how well I did throughout. I was lucky enough to not be plagued with the usual ailments most pregnant women endure, especially at my "advanced age" as it's referred to in medical circles. D used to jokingly call me a specimen.

Shortly after giving birth to M, however, I began to experience some discomfort between my shoulder blades. I went to physical therapy for six months in a vain attempt to get the problem corrected. the lack of positive results have led me to resign myself to living with it forever. And it's that same lack of positive results that promoted a conversation between D and me a couple of months ago. I mentioned that in addition to the physical pain I endure, the emotional one may be just as bad if not worse.

One of my go-to lines is "I'm already an old mom. I don't want to be a (fat, bald, or whatever other problem fits here) mom too!" D's response was that I should take better care of myself because once the kids are teenagers I may not be able to participate in family activities; namely, hiking. It instantly struck us both as funny that a hike is what he focused on. Never mind that I may not be able to drive them around or that they may have to push me around in a wheelchair, it was a hike that had him concerned. We like to hike every once in a while, but we certainly won't be mistaken for hikers.

A couple of years ago, when I turned 43, I told myself that by my 45th birthday I was going to have lost all of my weight and maybe even be working, but certainly hold the title of Court Reporter after my name in the State of Washington. It's through no fault but my own that I sit here today, 18 days before my birthday, and have to write that I've met none of those goals. I can throw out a myriad of excuses ~ some of them even valid ~ as to why that's the case, but I won't. Because the truth will always rear it's ugly head. And that truth is that I didn't keep my eye on the ball.

In an October 2010 post titled "Mommy's Prayer" I likened losing 10 pounds to climbing Mt. Everest.

There's that mountain again. I'm beginning to see a pattern here.

To add to the misery, last week something happened in my neck. I have no idea what it is, but it hurts. A lot. Apparently I've been complaining about it ever since because D mentioned it to me last night. While at first I felt a little insulted, I was quickly glad that he told me. I don't want to burden the whole family with my ailments on a daily basis. I know from experience that that type of complaining gets old really fast and starts to lose its value shortly thereafter.

My mom, bless her heart, has been complaining about her health in one way or another since I can remember and it's been the bane of my existence. While at this point I certainly take her complaints more seriously, there was a time where I just stopped listening. I told myself that I never wanted to do that to my family. And now here I sit. I guess it happens to the best of us. Even with the best of intentions, we all eventually, as we ascend the mountain of life, come to the fork in the road where we must make a choice. Very often the trail we choose, whether consciously or not, will be the same one our parents once traveled. My mom has been traveling for many years and on many different paths. And while I don't claim to have the endurance to summit while on many of them, most of them I'd be honored to follow. The complaining about my health route is not one. It's a lonely road that is sure to lead to a dead end.

So, I'm going to do something about it. All of it: The neck, the weight, the title.

Keeping my eye on the ball proved to be a difficult task. Perhaps it's because I should have been focusing on the hike instead.

Home Organized Home

Hello February ~ Wow. Where did January go without me as much as stopping by to say hello?

One of my things to do this year ~ not a resolution so much as a decision ~ was to get the house organized. Yeah, I know, that's my "thing" each and every day, but that's my excuse for where I've been and it's been so much fun. I'm a junkie. I love order. An organized closet brings me great, great joy.

I stumbled upon this blog,and it's been really nice to know that there are other neurotic folks like me out there. She puts me to shame, really, but that's okay.

I thought I knew pretty much there is to know on this here topic, but to my chagrin, I've learned a new thing or two by reading it.

I used to put things off until I organized this or that or that, but I've come to the conclusion that organizing is a journey...I may never have the whole house organized at once, and that too is okay.

So, without further ado, I'm back. I'll organize AND blog just like I've been doing since I started this here ol' manuscript almost two years ago. Because if there's anything I love almost as much as an organized closet, it's a good blog entry.

Almost.

Mommy's Prayer

Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my shape to keep
Please no wrinkles; please no bags; and please lift my butt before it sags
Please no age spots; please no gray; and as for my belly, please take it away
Please keep me healthy; please keep me young

And thank you, Dear Lord, for all you've done

It seems like I've been in the copy/past mode lately, but this was perfect for today; albeit, a little late for some of the requests ~ let's try this again: A little late for ALL of them.

We leave to Sacramento in 31 days, one month, and I want to lose 10 pounds before boarding the plane. To some people that is a very doable goal. To me it's not much different than climbing Mt. Everest.

Before I go any further, I want to put in the disclaimer that I know my family and friends love me at this weight or any other. The trip is simply a motivational tool to help ME, because that's who I want to do it for is myself. And although the BMI charts say I'm still at a healthy weight for my height, I'm not comfortable at this size and really want to get back to my pre-M weight.

At the start of 2009, AK and I started a contest to see who could lose the most weight in three months. He smoked me! M wasn't sleeping through the night and the gym wouldn't take her until she was 6 months. A couple of months later, in an effort not to go out and buy new clothes for our very-short summer, I did a two-week diet that promised a loss of 8 to 13 lbs. I lost 6. It was just enough to get the zippers up. And then about a year ago, I embarked on yet another Biggest-Loser style diet with the girls. The pot was big but my motivation wasn't. I lost just enough to get my money back but have since gained it and the previous 6 pounds back.

I don't like to exercise, that's no secret. I love junk food. That's a bad combination. It's been a struggle, but this is the most motivated I've been. I sometimes ~ very seldom, but sometimes ~ look forward to going to the gym. I've devised a two-day on, one-day off plan that seems like a reasonable goal, yet for one reason or another I can't seem to get there.

Between grocery shopping, running errands, BabyGym, M's sleep schedule, and the gym's childcare schedule, it's overwhelming. I think that I'll go early in the morning before D goes to work but that never works. I tell myself I'll work out at home while M naps ~ never happens. Maybe I'll go after dinner, I think. I think NOT when after dinner comes around.

Back in August when we purchased our tickets for Cali, I told myself I was going to lose a pound a week until the day arrived. One pound a week didn't seem like a daunting task but it's really proved otherwise. Shorty thereafter I twisted my ankle; then my mom came to visit; school started, and on and on.

Last week I had to go to Js school to volunteer. I had to be there at 9:45 so I got to the gym at 8:55 to be there right when childcare opened and I could get in 35 minutes before heading out. Well, I forgot my ID because I used it the last time I was there and forgot to put it back in my wallet, and policy states that everybody needs an ID to check kids in and out. So much for that. On a different note, my ID has since been upgraded to Lost status.

Today, I did my grocery shopping first thing, came home and cooked dinner so that this afternoon as soon as J got off the bus we could head there, be the first in line for the 4pm opening of childcare, get an hour in, and be home in time to have that dinner on the table by around 5:30. Well, guess what? Childcare doesn't open until 4:30, which normally would have been okay, but my efficiency came back to bite me in the flabby butt that I possess. The kids were having Salmon and I set my oven to start preheating by 5 to ensure it was nice and toasty when I got home from my supposed workout.

Seriously? Seriously.

So for today, my prayer, or a revised version of it, is all that I have left.

Oh, and my belly, yeah, that's hanging around too ~ kinda literally.

I really need to get to the gym!

Tale of the Tape

The other day I was taking down some things off the cork board in the bonus room to make way for other masterpieces that may be coming home from first grade and I came across some questionaires that were part of our Mother and Father's Day gifts from J. They're pretty entertaining.

Here are the standings:

Age: D 38 ~ Me 44 (right on)

Hair Color: D black ~ Me brown

Eye Color: Brown for both

Weight: D 96 lbs ~ Me 120 lbs

(I'm torn between being estatic that he thinks I weigh that little and feeling insulted that he thinks I weigh 24 lbs more than his dad.)

Height: D 96 lbs tall (you read that right) ~ Me 5 feet

Some Other things of Note:

I'm really good at playing on the computer. I bet the tech support departments at many establishments would beg to differ, but I'll take it. Or, maybe I should take it as a hint to get off the computer.

And although it was cut off in the picture, I love him because he helps me cook. Really?

He never helps me cook!

D is apparently as strong as a bear, all 96 pounds of him. His favorite food is steak. J loves him because he likes to draw with him, and he's funny when -- oh, wait.... He's NOT funny.

Now THAT's funny!

I'm Not That Mom

There, I said it. Not that that's the first time I've said it. I say it a lot to myself and every once in a while to an actual living, breathing person. Usually I'm referring to something specific. The reason today's outburst is different is that it's not specific; it refers to all aspects of my parenting. And you know what? It feels good; it's like an imaginary weight has been lifted.

I have a wonderful neighbor. She is someone that I know I can always count on to help me out in a time of crisis. Yesterday her son came and rang my doorbell while M was napping because he got wind that J had minimum days all week. At the time, J and M were playing nicely in the backyard while I was trying to get dinner prepped. As soon as he heard the doorbell, however, our backyard wasn't enough for him. He wanted to go outside and ride his bike with his buddy. But I wasn't ready to go out yet. I needed to finish what I was doing first. She, my neighbor, offered to take him as she usually does but that puts me on a time constraint and then M is left alone and it only makes things getting done more of a task.

I said no, that he'd have to wait until I was done. They left and it it all got done, as it always does, but with a lot of chatter of, "can we go yet?" When I got otuside my neighbor told me that her house is a mess but the kids want to play outside and what can she do?

For the billionth time in my almost-seven years of mommyhood I thought to myself, "I'm not that mom." For probably the first time, my next thought was, "and I don't care."

I can't keep up with the perfect-mom Joneses. No shame in my game. I'm not a slave to my kids. I've always known that. I may have been sucked up in that world for a while but I'm not kidding anyone.

I've heard all the PC cliches about how they're only little once; how the house will be clean and quiet once they're gone, and so on and so forth. I get it. I do. But it's also been said that if momma ain't happy; ain't nobody happy, and that too I get.

Every resident of this household knows that cleanliness will get you far. I love my kids and I would do anything for them....but the laundry has to be folded, the dishes washed, and dinner cooked before I do.

So I'll be adding "find balance" to my to-do list. Because while I may not be "That Mom," the mom that misses out on her kids' childhoods because she's obsessing over a dirty floor, that mom, is not one I aspire to be either.

Crappy Cupcaker

A good cupcake maker I'm not. I know this. Have for a long time. Yet that didn't stop me from volunteering my services for the cake walk at the school carnival tomorrow. I don't know what led me to believe that my skills were all of a sudden Magnolia Bakery-of-NYC-and Sex and the City-fame worthy.

Why did I think that my confections would rise above the rim of the paper cup and be anything other than the sunken pieces of dough they usually are?

Well, that's because they did:

Come on. An eight year old can make better looking cupcakes than I can. I'm perfectly capable of opening a box, adding oil, water, eggs, and mixing. But it's a measuring thing. I can't seem to get the right amount of liquid into the cup.

And now, not only am I a crappy cupcaker, but I've reached new lows in somehow trying to justify my lameness. Like the fact that I can't visually measure the precise amount is a good enough excuse for the little messes that come out of the oven.

But don't be mistaken, they taste delicious. I should know. I ate two once I decided that I would make a trip to TOP Foods tomorrow morning and buy cupcakes. When J came home from soccer he ran inside the house with his cleats still on and fell on his way to the kitchen. As he was getting up he said, "I can smell the cupcakes." And yummy they smelled.

There were a few good looking ones.

Now that's a pretty cupcake. And the way I see it, I only have seven years before M will show me how to make perfect ones every time.

Now close your eyes and imagine that it has frosting on top.

Come to Momma, Carrie Bradshaw. Come to Momma.

Random Things

About a year ago this was going around on Facebook. It seemed dumb at first, but then I started to read some of them and they were fun, so I fell for it and authored one myself. It described me in a nutshell at that time in my life.

I don't know that my kids will ever have access to my FB page and for that reason I decided to make it an entry so they could see what their mom was thinking in January 2009.

25 Random Things About Me

I received this a couple of times and I wasn't going to do it, but after reading some of the others, it was a really fun way to learn more about my friends especially since many of you I just met in the last year or so. Even those of you that have known me for years will probably learn a thing or two about me and I hope to do the same once I read your entries.

1) I was born in East Los Angeles and was surrounded by Spanish-speaking people. No matter where we went and what race they were, they spoke Spanish. It wasn't until I was about five that I realized the whole world didn't speak Spanish in addition to English. My parents didn't get out much I guess. :)

2) When I was 10, we moved to Sacramento, CA. Probably because we were always in the little bubble that is East LA and the fact that it's a mostly Catholic population, I had never known anybody that was divorced before that move. I was baffled by the number of kids whose parents were no longer together.

3) Because of my time in Los Angeles, I've been to Disneyland tons of times. The last time I counted (many years ago) it was almost 30 -- I'm sure by now I've probably reached that point. I loved it then, and I love it now, and I can't wait to take J and M.

4) When I was little, we went to Mexico two times a year to visit my maternal grandparents. Even when I was in school, my mom would pull us out for two weeks to go. It probably didn't do me any good academically, but it did wonders for my childhood. I have great memories of hanging out on the farm with my grandfather. He taught me how to milk a cow and ride a horse. My grandmother taught me how to break a chicken's neck and make chicken soup. They both died when I was way too young. I'm thankful for those times together and the awesome stories left to tell.

5) I never met my paternal grandmother, she died when I was about a month old. Many years later, when I was an adult, I went to the cemetery in the little town where she died and found her burial site. I sat at her grave and let the tears flow. I never thought I could cry so much for a woman I had seen only in pictures. It made me aware of how deep the bonds of family are rooted within us and I'm grateful to my parents for instilling that in me at a very young age.

6) On a much lighter note, I'm a sucker for lip glosses, animal prints, and Law & Order reruns.

7) I love to read. My two favorite books are 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Star by Danielle Steele. The spectrum is wide. I eagerly wait for a new James Patterson book to hit the shelves so I can go out and get it.

8) I've been in seven car accidents (none of which I was the driver) where there have been serious injuries, and by the grace of God I've walked away with only a few scrapes and bruises.

9) I've been lucky enough to do some pretty cool things in my life, among them: watched the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain and slept outdoors alongside thousands and thousands of people; watched the space shuttle launch; got lost in Paris -- three nights in a row -- rode the train from Rome to Amsterdam with a handsome Italian boy and engaged in hours of pasted conversation in Italian (which I don't speak), Spanish, and English (which he didn't speak.)

10) I may be the only person in the world who doesn't think the Grand Canyon is that cool.

11) One of my biggest regrets is not getting my BA.

12) I never longed for children of my own. Of course, now that I have them, it goes without saying that I wouldn't trade them for anything; however, I am not one of those moms that say, "I don't remember what I did before them." I DO remember, and I miss it sometimes. :)

13) Even once I had children, I never thought I'd be a stay-at-home mom. This "job" just fell onto my lap when we moved to WA and I didn't pass the court-reporter examination. I know that it is the hardest and most important job that I will ever do. And while there's still the occasional day when 7-Eleven is looking pretty appealing, I think I'm finally getting this mommy thing down. I'll eventually take the exam again, pass, and venture back into the working world. I feel very lucky to have that option.

14) I have moved three times in the last seven years: Sacramento to Phoenix; Phoenix to Germantown, Maryland; Maryland to Olympia. I love the Pacific Northwest.

15) I am obsessed about keeping the house clean...doesn't always happen, but the obsession is there. I like to joke that there's medicine for my condition.

16) I love the "idea" of scrapbooking. I have a closet full of scrapbooking supplies. When I do make a page, I love it... Okay, I'll say it: I think I'm pretty good at it, but I hardly ever do it. I am so behind...at this point I may never get caught up.

17) I have no athletic abilities. I hate to exercise but feel really good after I do. I don't have the best of eating habits. I drink very little water. I have about 20 pounds to go before getting back to pre-baby weight and have no doubt that I'll lose them but please don't ask me how because I have no idea. :0

18) I like old school rap music. I nixed having a band at our wedding because I didn't think they'd get the rap songs down. I had a DJ instead. My wedding was so fun. The dance floor was packed all night. I have no regrets.

19) Speaking of weddings, I refused to let Dennis see me before walking down the aisle. I didn't care that the photographer always took pictures of the couple beforehand. I will never forget the look on his face when I walked in. To this day it brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it.

20) I believe that nothing lasts forever-- good or bad. Enjoy the good times and ride out the bad ones any way you know how. One of my favorite sayings: When you are down to nothing, God is up to something.

21) I was petrified to have a girl. I felt like the weight of the world was on me to show her the way. Now that she's here, the fears have been replaced by inspiration. She inspires me in a way that no one ever has. Her smile melts my heart.

22) I am very proud of the two men in my life: D for his work ethic and for being a great dad, and J for the little man he's becoming. He makes me smile every single day. It's an honor to hold the titles of wife and mommy to those two.

23) I've been blessed with a wonderful life. I try to remind myself of that every day.

24) I admire my mom more than anyone. She is one of the smartest people I know. She is selfless, strong and beautiful. She is my rock.

25) This was pretty fun. I can keep going and write another 25 things if anyone is interested. :)

As I read it now, I think that maybe learning that not everyone spoke Spanish at five was a bit of an exaggeration. I may have been about three or four....but seriously, there was some Chinese folks who owned the corner store down the street from my house and they spoke great Spanish.

And sadly, I have to add another accident to the seven that I wrote about, Both J and M were with me when we were rear-ended, but we walked away okay, albeit, with some lingering backache. I'll survive. Once again, thank God.

Other than that, it's right on.