Apology Letter

Dear Wonderful Dance Teachers,

Words cannot express how sorry I am that tornadoes were spotted in your area at the same time my ten-year-old daughter was taking class at you studio.

I apologize that I failed to warn you of her lilapsophobia.  But in my defense, I didn't think it was something I needed to bring up yet.  It's the end of February.  For. The. Love.

I can only imagine the freak-out that ensued from my child as other parents came to pick up their children, you stopped class, and planned to trek across the alley to the fire station to hunker down in the nearest tornado shelter.

I am, however, very grateful that my older daughter was there as well to keep the kid from going completely crazy.

Thank you for letting her call home.  I'm glad her dad arrived when he did and you didn't have to drug her and sling her over your shoulder try to calmly get her to the fire station by yourselves.

Because forewarned is forearmed, I do feel that I need to prepare you for next Tuesday.

You will hear "I'm scared" and "I'm worried there's going to be a tornado," more times than you ever thought possible in a two and a half hour time period.

You are welcome to tell her that she may only ask you if you think there will be a tornado before and after class.

If I were you, I would answer "No, I'm sorry, I don't, Sweetie" when she asks if you have a weather.com app on your smartphone.

And no, she may not check weather.com on her iTouch during your class.

And if all else fails, my cell phone number is at the front desk.

Best of luck to you~

Casey

I've Seen Hell. And Folks, It Ain't Pretty.

I've been reading a few books about hell lately.  I'm sure my therapist (if I had one) would have a heyday with that statement, but anyway.

And I'm pretty sure that the reason Jesus used the description of the town's refuse burning  surrounded by wild vicious dogs was because that was the best analogy He had at the time to explain to the 1st century Israelites what hadn't even been invented yet.

Rows of exercise equipment at the local YMCA.

I am convinced that hell is neither a lake of fire, or freezing cold, or just being alone all by yourself.

It's pedaling on an elliptical machine.

Where the "time remaining" says "eternity" and the "elapsed time" always says "0:00."  Where there is one green column about three rows in lit up that NEVER moves.  Where you burn no calories, accumulate no miles, and never increase or decrease your stride rate.

How did I come by this "epiphany," you ask?

Well, I'm planning to run a half-marathon in April.  And somewhere along the way, the back of my right leg got mad at me and decided that if I was stupid enough to run with it, it was stupid enough to give me the business the entire time.  So I stopped running and made an appointment with my voo-doo chiropractor in Wichita--who couldn't see me for a week.

Well, the problem is, if I want a prayer of finishing this race at all, I have to log miles.  I can't take a week off.  So my option is the elliptical machine, which my leg will do for seven miles without a single complaint.  Which is at the YMCA.

Now, I love to run.  But I hate stationary exercise equipment of any kind.  It makes me want to jump out of my skin.  So I will layer up and run in snow, rain, 22 degree weather, wind, whatever to avoid a treadmill.

I can't stand the visual distractions of the TV--the three different channels going at once.  I can't stand the lights and numbers on the readout that mock me the entire time with how little I've done and how far I have to go.  So I play games with myself.  I tell myself that I won't look at the screen until I've gone through three songs on my playlist.

So I look around.  And I notice the disgusting brown spot on the carpet and try not to think about why it's there or how it got there.  I notice the man sweating profusely on the machine next to mine and pray that the machines are placed far enough apart and the fans are blowing at optimum angle and speed to keep his sweat from hitting me.  Because if it does, I will vomit.  I'm a (wee bit) competitive, so I'm also straining my neck muscles trying to see how fast and how far the twig on the treadmill a few machines away is going.  I wonder if I could take her. I make a colossal mistake and look in the mirror.  So now it's back to the TV.

Ellen is on, and she's interviewing Amanda Seyfried.  From what I can tell, Amanda has knitted Ellen a hat.  Ellen asked Amanda when she has time to knit, and Amanda tells her, "When I'm on the elliptical machine."

Are. You. Kidding. Me???

I can't take a drink of water on the thing without feeling like I'm going to fall off, or choke, or both.

Three songs are finally done.  I can look at the screen.  It's telling me to "pedal forward."  Shoot!  In my efforts to try to avoid "readout insanity,"  I completely missed the instruction to "pedal backward."  I'm sure that I've completely ruined my workout now.  There won't be any positive benefit at all.  I should've just stayed home, read a good book, and eaten mint M&Ms.

And I look at the "time left" display.  It reads "Eternity...

Lenten Litany

The wonderful thing about it being 190 days since my last blog entry is that there is an amazingly good chance no one even reads this anymore.

 Which gives me a "no holes barred" freedom to post whatever I want without worrying about not being witty enough, or entertaining enough, or offending too much. Excellent!

 Lots of things have happened in the last 190 days, and I've meant to post here and there. I've even logged in, started new posts, and stared at the blank screen, only to close it in frustration and let yet another day go by posting...nothing.

 But I miss it. I miss getting my thoughts out of my crazy head. And I miss having this "semi-up-to-date" so I can go back and see a record of our life.

So I'm just going to dive in and begin again. For my sanity.

 The Season of Lent begins tomorrow.

 And even though the Season of Lent is about sacrifice, I've always enjoyed it. I love Ash Wednesday Mass. I am old enough to remember tomato soup and grilled cheese or fish being served for lunch on Fridays during Lent, even though I went to public school. I love. Love. LOVE Easter. And this is kind of crazy, but I've always enjoyed picking something to "give up" for forty days.

 The reasons for this are two-fold:
 1. I have a tendency to start things, and not finish them. I think it's undiagnosed ADHD. So there was always an enormous sense of satisfaction when I actually did (or didn't do) something consistently for forty days.
 2. I am a rule-follower. I tend to see things in the black and white. So lent was always kind of "fun" as a child and teenager--how "close" could I get to the line between black and white without going over? I was the kid who would give up chocolate, and eat "around" all of the chocolate chips on a chocolate chip cookie.

Even as an adult, I struggle with the "letter of the law" vs. the "spirit of the law." But that's another post. :o)

 In my crazy, busy, searching adult life, I got away from the discipline of the Lenten season. Last year, I decided to purposefully participate in a way that I hadn't since I was in college. I attended the evening Ash Wednesday Mass at the church my grandmother and I attended when I was in high school. I don't think I'd been there since I last went with her...close to 20 years ago. I had picked something to give up--animal products. I was going "vegan" for Lent. And I had made those resolutions to myself that I always make at times like these...pray every day, do a devotion every day, read my Bible every day.

 I was ready.

 My faith is such an interesting thing. I don't have a "conversion" experience, a defining moment, anything like that. I can't ever remember not believing. There are times when--honestly? I've wished I was an unbeliever. I think it would be easier. I wouldn't have to try to explain to myself why bad things happen to good people, why life isn't fair, etc. But I can't get there. Life for me doesn't make sense without God. Even more than it doesn't make sense with Him. If that makes sense...:o)

 So I went to church and as I was sitting there, I encountered God. Well? Shouldn't we encounter God when we go to church?  Honestly...most of the time, I don't.

 And at the time, I wished I hadn't.

 My "encounter with God" went something like this:

 God: Are you serious about this Lent thing?

 Me: What do you mean? Of course I am. I'm here. In church. I'm getting the ashes. I'm going vegan. I had my last piece of absolutely amazing bleu cheese for the next forty days right before I arrived. I signed up for a daily devotion to come to my email and I'm going to read it every day.

 God: Really? You're serious about the spirit of this discipline? About growing closer to Me? Seeing just a little bit better what forty days in the wilderness was like for My Son? Preparing yourself for His sacrifice?

 Me: Umm...I think so. Yes. Sure. I am.

 God: Okay then. Let Me be perfectly honest with you. I don't really care if you eat animal products or not for the next forty days. But there is some stuff that I care about very much that I need you to give up. And I'm not just asking for a forty day "vacation." I mean give up. For good. Are you in?

 Remember when I said sometimes I wish I was an unbeliever?

 This was one of those times.

 I didn't answer God right then. I participated in the mass, left the church, and prepared to "go vegan" for forty days by not getting chicken, cheese, or sour cream on my salad at Chipotle.

 But in the end, my answer to God was, "Yes. I'm in." There never really was any other answer to give.

 And here I sit, on the eve of another Lenten Season.

 Ash Wednesday Mass is at 7 am tomorrow.

 I've noticed that Taco Bell now has "fish tacos" and Wendy's has a "fish sandwich" on the menu.

 I've signed up for yet another Lenten devotional to come to my email account. 

I'm "eating clean" for Lent--I've dabbled in it for the last couple of months, but cheated and fell off the wagon every time. So for the next forty days, no processed foods, no grains, no dairy. No kidding.

 My dear friend, Julie just texted to ask when she can bring by some 'creme brulee' for my last dairy and sugar 'hurrah.'  I suspect she's coming to see me one last time before I turn into a total hag eating like a health nut.

I'm also giving up facebook.

(And I'm wondering if by giving up facebook, do I have to also give up Pinterest? Or is playing on Pinterest like giving up chocolate and eating the cookie part off of the chocolate chips?)