Sunday, October 31, 2010

All For You

Wow...it has been a while since I blogged...still haven't summed up my awesome camp reunion and I wish I had more/better news on my friend Patrick (he is still in a coma but he is ALIVE and he still needs your prayers).

I've been busy.

Very busy.

But I have still made time to make good food choices and work out. But now the bulk of my "busy" is done and I am realizing that I have time on my hands and that is not good either. Because time on my hands gets me into trouble...

What has kept me from my computer and blogging?

Kids...

and not just my kids...

I've blogged before about my non-job that is costuming the shows at my The Cutest Boy in the World's school. I say it is a non-job because I don't get paid $$$ for it but, as I shared before, my amazing salary is hugs and kisses and a lot of love from 14 year old kids that I grow to love like they are my own. And then they leave the school but they always remain in my heart.

In fact one of them, who is now a senior in high school, came backstage (per my request to his younger brother that was in the show we were doing)and I think I hugged him 50 times and we both laughed as we reminsced about how he still holds the (boys) record for most costume changes in a show and how he stripped down to his boxers and a t-shirt while I dressed him. And how doing that show gave him confidence and how he has turned into an awesome (and handsome) young man who is now student body president at his school. Like I said, I had to hug him 50 times and told him that I could't be proudeer of him if he was my own.

So, like I said...it is a great non-job.

And not only do I get to have the love from these kids but I get to work with 2 of my favorite men in the world---GOTT and TTG. How do you not love working with some of your best friends? And then there is Musical Muse...we get to laugh at the men...it is so fun. A salary would be nice but I'll do it free because I love it so (ssshhh...don't tell anyone...)

Working with them and the kids is really not work...it is joy...I get a lot more out of it then the kids will ever know...they just know I am taking care of them but they are really taking care of me with their talents and love...

So we did Seussical...and the kids were, in a word, AMAZING...

I cried with pride watching them.

And the costumes...oh, they were fun! If you haven't seen the show, you need to know that it is based on the Dr. Seuss books and that you have "Whos" and "jungle" creatures but the costumes are not literal...they were real people clothes but it should give you an IDEA of the character.

So Horton the elephant I dressed in baggy grey clothing...with a bow tie...

And Mayzie La Bird (who is the showy bird) wore my old Victor Costa cocktail dress with ruching and a dropped waist, a showgirl headress, long satin gloves and a tail made from boas and a huge glittery bow...I loved that costume the most...

Gertrude (the awkward bird) wore a blue dress that was almost a tutu and she had a tail that literally ran the length of the stage...again, made of boas (if you have boas to donate, I will use them)

The Sour Kangaroo (who is the boss of the jungle)usually wears African dress but I reimagined her as a 50's housewife complete with pearls, a shirt dress, and an apron (her pouch!). She looked good...

I won't bore you with the rest but I will tell you that when I looked on the stage and saw my darlings singing and dancing that my heart, as the Grinch's did, grew 3 sizes...

I love those kids...

They decided to call me "Mama D" last night...I cried...

because when you have 20 girls surround you in a dressing room for a group hug, you feel pretty damn good...

We did 2 shows yesterday so I stared my day with a body pump class and an hour (special) halloween spin class. My quads are still screaming...

Football is now over and my son has moved on to wrestling. I will miss football and watching my son hit people...oh wait, he will still be doing that just without padding while wearing a leotard...wrestling is ROUGH...and it looks stupid....

But football ended well. The boys went undefeated for the year. Never lost a game. Only gave up like maybe 4 touchdowns. They were pretty amazing on the field.
Coach Dimples and the other coaches did an incredible job...

So now Coach Dimples and I are embarking on a new adventure together. He is going to be my trainer. I don't know who is more scared of it...him or me...

He promises to talk "woman" and not "coach" to me and I have promised not to cry (unless he makes me do the thing he calls the "persuit drill").

I have warned him not to throw things at me and expect me to catch them so excersises with balls are not allowed.

I also told him if he told me to run laps that I was going to run up to him, hug him goodbye and get in my car.

But I do need to shake things up for myself because I'm not losing much these days and I am working too hard not to and I don't want to get frustrated.

So maybe him yelling at me to do things will help...and the dimples don't hurt either...

I asked him Friday if he wanted "out" and he said no...poor man is clueless...he will learn...after our first training session I have a feeling he will be the one who is crying...

I cried the other day (I'm crying a lot these days but it is all good) because I got to wear another size "L" t-shirt. GOTT ordered Seussical shirts for the teachers and as I passed them out to the teachers, Precious and Adorable History Teacher had requested a "L". So I hand his skinny butt the shirt but then he says "can I have an XL please"? Bacchus and I ask him why his skinny butt needs an XL and he says he wants it for the length. And then he dazzles me with a precious and adorable smile and says since I am his friend can I make it happen?...

So I go back to GOTT who does not have a spare XL...

And I ask GOTT what he ordered me...and he sheepisly tells me an "XL" since it was ordered before my whole "I can wear a size L t-shirt" thing after Bacchus gave me a shirt.

So I tell GOTT "hand me the XL" and I march over to Precious and Adorable and hand it to him and inform him that he will now wear my shirt...he was happy...so was I...

And on Friday, when Precious was not wearing his shirt (as he should have), I asked him where his shirt was and he said "I forgot it"

I said:

"NO, PRECIOUS, IT IS RIGHT HERE ON MY BODY AND I AM ROCKING IT...you have MY shirt"...

THAT felt great...and next show I will be a "M" so he will have to order his shirt in the right size...because I am not switching with him if he has an L or XL...there are limits to what I will do for him...even if he is precious and adorable...

Smaller shirts are a big victory...

because last spring it was a 2XL and it was tight...and that was after losing 25 pounds...

And buying clothes in the "regular" not "plus" department the other day was also pretty awesome...so last night I wore "regular" (ok, they were XL's, but not plus sized) leggings and a dress that was basically a tutu and I danced a lot backstage while the kids sang...when I wasn't crying with pride.

And maybe by next spring I can jump back into that Victor Costa dress that I put on my beautiful showgirl bird and I will sing "Amazing Anice" (the showgirl bird sings a song called "Amazing Mayzie") to GOTT, TTG and Musical Muse but I think I will skip wearing the boa and bow tail...

or maybe I will keep the tail just so I have something to shake because Coach Dimples is charged with making things not so jiggly on me...so if he does his job like I think he can I can shake a tail feather and the only thing shaking will be that big bow...

And GOTT and TTG and Musical Muse will be distracted by the bow and not my bad singing...

Inspiration Song:
"All for You" from the Seussical soundtrack...silly little song...I re-wrote the words for GOTT for his birthday because it is all about what a girl goes through to help her friend...

bye darlings!

Monday, October 18, 2010

Losing My Religion

I really want to get back to my fun stuff and blogging about my weight loss and the reunion but things have happened lately so those things are taking a back burner...and again I will say "my blog/my opinion" so if you don't want to read about the power and Glory I believe God has, skip this blog...

So here is what is going on with me...after my last post I found out that my dear friend Patrick was in a very serious car accident on October 11. It was a devastating wreck and he almost lost his life. He is battling on as I type this and we still do not know his prognosis.

He suffered a very serious head trauma. His brain swells. They keep him sedated but there are times he moves. He had to have a procedure yesterday to reduce the pressure in his brain. They keep him on medicines to keep the pressure down but yesterday they had to do a procedure to drain fluid.

His beautiful wife, Carol, has great faith. She actually lifts ALL OF US up who love him. When I saw her the other day and we had a long, long hug I told her that I knew in my heart that Patrick would dance with their gorgeous daughter Annie (who is just a little girl) at her wedding, that he would hold his grandchildren, and that he will be Carol's husband, love, partner, and friend until they are old and gray...

I believe that with everything I have...

I know God will make it true...

I know God will heal him...

I've known Patrick since he was a young boy...my sister kept her horse at his house. He was just a little thing back then...he is a marvelous man now.

I'm keeping the faith...I am trusting God...I know that Patrick is in His hands. I know that God will show us His glory when Patrick comes back to Carol, Annie and all of us who love and adore him.

All of this got me thinking about faith...and loving God and trusting in Him.

Because I have questioned Him a lot...especially when I lost my parents.

But I know that it is normal to be mad at God and wonder if He really cares for us at those deep, dark times in our lives. I know He knows we will do it.

And I know that He has never abandoned me...and that he didn't take my parents home to Heaven to punish or hurt me.

But at the time I lost them I sure felt like it...and when I heard about Patrick I hit my knees...but this time I thanked God for getting Patrick into the hands of some of the best doctors in the world and this time I knew that God was going to be with us all on this journey with Patrick.

I don't mean to get preachy here, but I am feeling that I need to lean on Him a little more these days and I want to share it.

I've had some good events to remind me that He is so good...

My reunion with my camp friends was such a miracle...imagine that 26 years after the camp closed that so many of us would yearn to return. Many camps have reunions, but they are camps that are still going...our camp has been defunct since 1984. And yet over 30 of us showed up to share memories and hold hands again. Facebook may have been the tool, but God brought us together...and I felt so happy that weekend...

Last weekend I had the honor of watching my friend's son Bar Mitzvah. It was truly beautiful and this Episcopalian cried like a baby watching that boy (who I have known since he was 4 or so) stand up and chant his Torah portion...it was amazing...and beautiful...and God was there...

So, despite the title of my blog today, I have NOT lost my religion...I just liked the irony of it when I picked my title...and because that song has been on heavy play on my iPod since it was on "Glee".

I'm not going to write about any weight loss stuff today...it would be wrong. Because although God is helping me through, I can't mention my little struggle when I have someone I love who is fighting so mightily...

Please pray for my friend and his family. His sister-in-law is one of my best and dearest friends and their whole family is like family to me...they are all in pain over this and they are all keeping their faith in God to return Patrick whole and healthy to us.

I believe in the power of prayer...let's show the world what it can do...let's show Patrick that even those who don't know him personally can be a prayer warrior for him and help him in this fight...

I'm not losing my religion...I'm just becoming more and more convicted...and Patrick's recovery will be full of His Glory...

Inspiration Song: "Losing my Religion" by R.E.M. or the Glee cast version (the orchestration is gorgeous in that version)...

Bye Darlings...

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Orange Blossom Special

I started this blog the day after my friend Patricks' accident and then my life spun out of control with STUFF...soooooo...I'm going to finish the reunion blog sometime soon but for now I will finish and post this...but the blog about Patrick had to come first. During all of this time I did tell Precious and Adorable History Teacher about my climp up the hill of 218 steps (since he was with me when I had my "ah ha" moment to get in shape) and got a big hug and a high five for that...and of course I have shared my "feat of amazement" with my trainer and spin teachers...got more hugs...and TTG and GOTT (more hugs)...I may not do 218 steps every weekend but like Tinkerbell, I need the applause to live and I make those men clap until their hands hurt...

So here is my blog about the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill...

From Friday Mountain Girls Camp!

Is there a song in your life that causes you terror? Or maybe brings back horrific memories?

For me, that song is...well, it is a combination of songs...
The Orange Blossom Special and the Wabash Cannonball

Because they were two of the songs in the mash-up/combo that we rode to during the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill...

(shudder)

For those who haven't read my last few blogs, the Eagle Drill was a "dance" on horseback where we took the horses through a long pattern set to music.

My last year of camp I led the Eagle Drill. I may have also had to lead it my first Eagle year when I went in August, but I have blocked it...

Leading the Eagle Drill was usually reserved for the BEST rider among the Eagles. I most certainly was NOT the best rider among the Eagles. I came in about 13th out of 14 girls...

I think they had me do it because I could remember the pattern---because it was my 3rd tme to be an Eagle. It was NOT my riding skills...because I have no riding skills. My sister N, now she has riding skills...incredible riding skills...and world championships to prove it. My brother B also was a pretty fierce rider (world championships in Cutting) and my sister S was also a pretty good rider.

Me...notsomuch...

I was good with cattle. I showed heifers and steers. I did well. I have the belt buckles to prove it.

But the horses...I was much better off lookng at them than riding them.

Basically, almost every time I am on a horse, I fall off. But at camp I did manage to stay in the saddle...most of the time...

I think because we raised and showed horses and my siblings were so good with them, everyone ASSUMED I could ride. I cannot ride.

And since my last day of camp I can tell you that I have been on a horse exactly one other time.

And I fell off...

I think at this point in my life that I shall not try it again. It is safer for all. And I would likely need surgery if I fell off a horse at my age.

My son, on the other hand, is a natural. He always rides with the more advanced group of boys at camp. Before camp he had been on a horse exactly...NEVER...

But he got to camp, someone told them who he was related to, and they put him on a horse and he rode it like he had been doing it for years.

And one time he fell off---just like his mother...but that was the only time he fell. That particular year (2 summers ago) my son did his level best to kill himself at Camp LaJunta. He fell off the top bunk onto his trunk---so they moved him to a lower bunk and he fell off that too. They dubbed him "Sir Fallsalot" in mountain biking---because he fell...alot. He fell running up the hill several times. He went days avoiding the camp picture girl because he had a split lip and a black eye from all the falls. And then there was the horseback incident. The worst part about THAT little incident was hearing about it afterwards. The conversation went like this:

Counselor: Did TCBITW (The Cutest Boy in the World) tell you about falling off the horse the other day and getting kicked in the head?

Me: (to my son): Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo....kicked in the head?

TCBITW: yes, the horse kicked me in the head after I fell off...good thing I had a helmet on...

Counselor: it cracked the helmet so we threw it away...

Me: did it crack your head? (that was said to my son)...Did you crack YOUR head (to counselor) because you have waited until NOW to tell me he got kicked in the head?

Counelor: we sent him to the nurse...

TCBITW: the nurse said it didn't look like I was going to have a concussion...

Counelor: we watched him very closely the rest of the day...

TCBITW: I got to ride on the scooter with Blake (camp director) after I fell off...

Me: he fell off a horse and then you put him on the back of a scooter

TCBITW: it was fun!

Me: what was fun?

TCBITW: all of it...although falling off wasn't that fun...but the cracked helmet was...

I think I forgot to mention that he almost ran out of air in scuba class that year...now I think he may have (run out of air)....

Yes, I still let him go to camp...

Heck, we didn't wear helmets...and I hit a lot of branches during trail rides...I'm surprised none of us ever lost a ponytail or braid to a tree branch...or didn't get our hair caught and fall off the horse...oh wait! I think that happened to me!!!!

So back to the drill...

My last year of camp my favorite counselor---Dana---tells me I am leading the drill. She is excited. I am not.

All I can think of is that I will never remember the pattern...and that I will bounce around in that saddle like popcorn as we take the horses through their turns.

I have blocked from my mind the name of the horse I rode but I am pretty sure he/she was 100 years old and had done that darn drill no less than 50 times so I honestly think the horse did the drill and I was just along for the ride.

The worst part was that my father watched it on closing day. And then he told me that I bounced like popcorn popping on that saddle.

This from a man who once graced the cover of "Fortune" magazine riding a horse...and looking like he was trying to flap his arm as wings to fly. We always referred to his riding style as "doing the funky chicken" because he flapped his arms as he rode. It was not a very elegant or impressive magazine cover. He was also covered in dirt.

But he had to comment on MY riding style...

Thanks, Daddy...

I told him to just be happy I didn't fall off...

And then he went on to be thrilled with my shooting abilities in riflery and the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill was forgotten.

But every time I hear those songs---I leave the room or turn off the radio...

And the horses of the world are safe because I have vowed never to ride again!

Inspiration Music: "The Orange Blossom Special" and "The Wabash Cannonball"...not because they inspire me...they strike terror in me...but because what would the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill have been without them?

Monday, October 11, 2010

Fly Like an Eagle/The Eagle and the Hawk

I was going to blog today about the rest of the FMGC reunion but I'm still savoring it and holding it in my heart...so I need another day before I let it out and talk about going to the actual hollowed grounds that was our beloved camp. It was so emotional...spiritual...surreal...amazing...and I will get to it tomorrow or Wednesday...so today I will talk about the Eagle stuff...

Ahhhh...the Eagle cabin...

The Eagles were the oldest girls in the camp...they ruled the camp...everyone looked up to the Eagles...everyone wanted to be an Eagle...

Being a Hawk was pretty good too...but not as good as being an Eagle!

I got to be an Eagle 3 years...that was pretty special. I thought I may have been the only camper in the history of FMGC to be in the same cabin for 3 years but I found out that Elizabeth was in the same cabin for 3 years---as a ROBIN!

She said she went from Robin to Eagle...I think Julie is still baffled that it occurred. I'm going to give the award for "most years in one cabin" to Elizabeth because although I summered in the Eagle cabin for 3 years, one of those years (my first year as an Eagle) I was in August term instead of my usual June. She was always in the same term as a camper...and she had to be a ROBIN 3 times...

I had to go to August one year because my mom was moving us from Kingsville and because our family reunionn got moved to June.

A family reunion I am no longer invited to because I no longer hold shares in the family business.

Is it a family reunion or a stockholders meeting? I wish someone would clear that up for me because clearly my DNA has not changed and I am still a member of the family just not a shareholder...

Moving on...

So I was an Eagle in August and then 2 years again when I returned to my beloved June term.

So 3 of my Friday Mountain summers were spent as an Eagle...

I stared as a Roadrunner...and then I was a Kingfisher...and then Eagle...Eagle...Eagle...

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Friday Mountain Girls Camp, our cabins were clearly named for birds. The youngest were the Hummingbirds (Hummers) and then we had the Wrens, Robins, Cardinals, Roadrunners, Kingfishers, Hawks and then the Eagles...

Our cabin was the furthest away from the Big House (dining hall) and from the Hummers...I think Julie wanted us far far away from the little ones since we were 14 and mostly 15 years old and maybe not the BEST influence on the wee ones who were but 7 or 8 years old.

As an Eagle you got some pretty great priveleges...like getting to be a Buckaroo or Wrangler leader (like a Kiowa or Tonk to you Mystic girls, a Shawnee or Pawnee to the Heart girls, or a Comanche, Aztec, or Tejas to the Waldemar ladies). You also got to do the famous Eagle Drill on horseback...and you got to set up Hunter's Stew...more on those later...

But you also had to pay for the privelege by eating last and often having swimming first in the morning...often followed by horseback...or sometimes you had riding BEFORE lunch and then riflery after lunch so you had to put your jeans on twice and haul yourself out to the horse lot and rifle range twice.

I don't know what was worse...putting on jeans when you were still wet from the pool or having to put them on twice.

By the end of the week your jeans would be rather..."crispy" shall we say? UGH!

We didn't care...we were at camp...

The Eagle cabin had the leakiest of the showers...more so than the other cabins...or maybe we were just pigs. We called the water that pooled in the middle of the sink area "Lake Dookie"...it was clean water from the showers but disgusting all the same.

We didn't care...we were at camp...

Being a Wrangler or Buckaroo leader was really fun. Each group had 4 Eagles in charge...a leader and co-leader and spirit leader and co-spirit leader. We learned a lot about leadership as we lead our groups during Wrangler/Buckaroo time and during competition day. You also got to lead initiation...but we can't talk about that...it's still a secret...but I will tell you that we hazed the new girls a bit before the initiation and basically scared the hell out of them. One year when I was co-leader I was in charge of the holding pen of new Buckaroos and I couldn't help myself---I confessed to them that it was all fake and to just act scared. I couldn't bear to have a 7 year old terrified of what was about to happen...

Each cabin had a porch swing. My last Eagle year a couple of the girls were swinging on the swing singing along to the radio when they got the swing to going a bit too high. The swings were attached with "S" hooks. Well, they swung so high the swing came off the "S" hooks...they flew through the air on the swing, miraculously landing still in the swing (without their legs underneath)...and then they peed themselves. Yes, they peed. We almost peed watching it. It was the funniest thing that ever happened that year in the cabin and we had a lot of funny stuff...Most people would die of shame if they peed themself...

But they didn't care...they were at camp...

On Saturdays we had dances with the boys camp. Every blowdryer in the camp would be going along with hot curlers (Clairol Kindness Caresetter for me!) and curling irons. We always blew the fuses. It was funny to see the Hummers and Wrens trying out make-up. We would work up a sweat getting ready...fixing our hair into perfect imitations of Farrah Fawcett's spectacular do (may she rest in forever blonde peace)and putting on sundresses and lots and lots of blue eyeshadow and tons of mascara until our eyelashes looked like spiders. One girl in my sister's cabin showed up with the top tray of her trunk completely filled with Estee Lauder make-up. She got up every morning to put it on, not just on dance days...we laughed at her...

So we would get fixed up just to be sweated and melted by the time the dance started. All those fabulous curls we did would melt and droop in the heat and humidity and our mascara would be running.

We didn't care...we were at camp...and we were getting to see BOYS...

My last Eagle year I struck up a camp romance with the boy's camp riflery CIT (Counselor in Training). I am pretty sure his name was Daniel. He wrote me and I wrote him and we danced all the dances together. I got to see him an extra time during camp when the 4 best shooters from the boys camp came over to our camp for a riflery competition. We won...easily...my 2 sisters and I and one other girl totally beat the heck out of the boys. I think it was the day I got a "50" (perfect score) which Daniel scored and agreed that I was pretty amazing with a gun. Tracy was soooo proud of us! I almost considered not doing so well so I could look ladylike but then I came to my senses and realized that any guy who didn't think a chick who could hit a target perfectly and still toss her blonde hair fetchingly didn't deserve me.

He held my hand after I shot...we were sneaky with it...

We even snuck off for a quick kiss (it was very sweet) during one of the dances...I'll admit it now that I am a grownup that it was the only rule I ever broke at FMGC. But oh my was he cute...dark hair/light eyes (I've blogged that before)...oh my...

I saw him once after camp. We both happened to be in Port Aransas at the same time. I had a heck of a sunburn and could barely tolerate clothes but I fixed myself up cute and found something that didn't scratch and we had a sweet night walking on the beach and talking about camp and I tried not to wince in pain when he put his arms around me...isn't romance sweet when you are a teenager?

But I digress...

moving on...

To Hunter's Stew...

Hunter's Stew was something we had a couple of times each term. The cooks got a night off and we (the Eagles) would set up the cans and stuff for dinner down by the creek in a grassy area we could eat in. Each cabin got several cans of stew which would be placed on a small fire to heat up. We thought it was such a privelege to get to do it until we realized it was really work!

When you were done with your stew, you threw your plate into the fire...

And we won't even try and figure out how many retainers went into the fire along with the plates...one counselor almost burned herself when she tried (and succeeded) to rescue my retainer.

But it did make us feel important and special to gather and set out the cans and be in charge...

We had skit nights on Sundays. The Eagles usually did the best skits. The Hummers were the worst---they just wandered about the stage and made no sense and we just prayed they got over it in less than 5 minutes. My last year at camp I wrote a skit for our cabin---it was called "The Wizard of Kidd" and it was about camp. The Munchkins were "Hummers" and I played the scarecrow which I believe was supposed to be a horseback counselor. I can't remember much else except that I think the Glinda character was "Julie" and we did have a Dorothy. The year before a raging case of diarrhea went through the camp. It was misery for almost everyone. So when I wrote the play, I named the Wicked Witch "Montezuma's Revenge". Paige played the witch...she was marvelous...she melted (from being doused with Pepto Bismol) for a full minute. It was glorious...she was marvelous...and she is a real live bonafide actress. I wish I had a tape of tha skit...although I am not sure Julie liked it very much...but we did...oh, we did...

Being an Eagle also meant that you were considered for "Most Honorable Camper". It was the last award Julie handed out. First you had the cabin awards and then the class awards (for riding, nature, etc.) and then you had the "Best all around Wrangler" and "Best All Around Buckaroo". And then Most Honorable Camper. For Best All Around Wrangler/Buckaroo you got a beautiful silver medallion. Most Honorable Camper received a loving cup trophy. When Julie said my name I was paralyzed. I thought I heard it wrong. But I have the loving cup to prove it and I can 100% honestly tell you that every time I look at it, I am reminded to be a better person and to live up to the title...even 30 years later. Because as much as it was an honor to win it, when I look at it now I am grateful to Julie and to FMGC for teaching me to be the kind of girl who COULD win the award...and we all were Most Honorable Campers just for having been to Friday Mountain. And sometimes, when I doubt myself, I look at the trophy...and my little silver medallion...

And sometimes when I want to kill someone, I look at my riflery charm...

just kidding...

Now about that Eagle Drill I mentioned...well, that is going to be another blog...I'm tired and I think I may have tired you out reading all of this...so I will save it for another day...because describing my terrible horseback riding alone takes several paragraphs!

Inspiration Song(s): "Fly Like an Eagle"---Steve Miller Band or Seal (which is really a great version...maybe better than Steve Miller...). AND..."The Eagle and the Hawk" by John Denver...because we sang it all the time at dinner...and it was a really big deal when you got to be a Hawk or Eagle and got to sing the song...

Bye Darlings...

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Climb Every Mountain

218 steps...

I'll get to that in a minute...just had to put it out there for you.

So you are probably wondering why the heck this blog is titled "Climb Every Mountain", because it is certainly NOT a workout song...but it is truly the inspiration for this blog today.

Because, you see, I just had the greatest weekend ever...or at least since I was 15 years old. Because that was the last time I was at Friday Mountain Girls Camp...and this weekend I got to go back.

We had a reunion...and oh what a reunion it was!

There were about 30 of us...former campers...former counselors...and Julie...Julie Julie Julie. Julie was the camp director and one of the greatest influences on my life and that of most/all of us at the reunion.

It was amazing...and I am going to bore you to death with blogging about it...

Sadly, Friday Mountain Girls Camp closed after the 1984 session. It was a wonderful camp and for those of us blessed enough to attend it, it was heaven on earth and the greatest summers of our lives. And anyone who went to camp and loved it knows just what I mean...

So about a year ago one of the former camper/counselors has the idea to make this reunion happen...and she did it. She got together with another counselor and they planned a really magical weekend for us.

My Aunt Jane (the best person in the world) and I loaded up on Friday around noon and headed out. She was a counselor at FMGC for 2 years---how awesome is it that I got to have my aunt as a counselor where I went to camp?

Since FMGC is closed and now the property is privately owned, we bunked up at a camp in Wimberely, not too far from our camp. We arrived in time to help Sue and Tracy (yeah, I'm going to use some real names here...) set up.

And just like camp, the "campers" started to arrive. Hugs...tears...joy...

And then she walked in. "She" being...DANA...my favorite counselor EVER...

She was a goddess then...she is a goddess now. And dammit...she looked the same. Still gorgeous...

She was my cabin counselor my last year at camp. I poured my heart out to her many times. She was an awesome big sister to me even though I wasn't her sister. And I was thrilled to see that her REAL sister was there and I got to see her too. She worked in the horse lot...and we did our level best to make her and the other counselors insane...and I loved her and wished with all my heart that she had been MY big sister.

So in she walks...and I burst into tears. I haven't seen her since I tackled her in North Star Mall many years ago...I screamed her name and ran across the mall...it scared a lot of people, including her...but she loves me anyway...even if I tackle her in a mall...

And then I got a super treat...for the first time in over 30 years I got to hug Julie. And that was undescribable...so I won't even try to tell you how great that was.

And then walks in MB (her name is very distinctive so I am going to shorten it)...oh how I loved MB and how I loved to drive her nuts.

MB was a counselor my first year at camp. We really did make her crazy. And when she didn't come back the following year we speculated it was our fault. Now I know the truth---her dad made her get a "real" job.

Poor MB even had a song we made up about her...to the tune of "Little Bunny Foo Foo". I won't sing it for you because I cannot sing...and you wouldn't get it unless you were at camp in 1976.

We had a great time getting re-acquainted and seeing old friends and meeting new friends among the girls who attended camp at different years or terms than some of us.

At dinner we all told stories about how much FMGC meant to us. I would have talked all night if they let me (you all know THAT about me). I shared that going back to camp after my parents divorce was a great comfort to me and that my cabin mates helped me to get through it. I shared that I loved every minute of camp. I shared that I still display my "Most Honorable Camper" trophy (this is like "cup girl" at Mystic or "Ideal Girl" at Waldemar). And that the trophy reminds me to be good to others. And that my dad still liked the fact that I led the Eagle Drill (on horseback) and the fact that I could out shoot the best of the boys camp (we had a riflery competition)more than the fact that I was nice...oh well...

Now about that horseback stuff...I sucked.

There is no other word for it.

I am the worse horseback rider in the world.

The only thing I did worse at camp than horseback was...TENNIS...

you remember that blog...I don't need to revisit it here for you...

I was also pretty lousy at sports, archery (almost shot a few counselors)and nature. I didn't much care for nature time---the walks were long and hot and they made us pick up bugs. Needless to say I never won a nature award.

I did pretty good at swimming and gymnastics and arts and crafts.

But I rocked at riflery. I got all the way up to the standing up level. I beat the boys. I won the award. I can shoot a gun.

I also almost shot a few counselors...

It was easy...we would all do it...we would turn to the counselor and ask something WITH THE GUN IN OUR HANDS and forget to put it down. So when you are at standing or kneeling level and you turn right to look at the counselor...well, sometimes your body follows your head and then you have a gun...pointed at your counselor.

The archery "shootings" were just bad aim...this was just a lack of paying attention. I wish I had a dime for every time Tracy told one of us "put your gun down before you turn around"...I could have paid for camp in a week.

So I could stand up and hit a target and pretty much hit the bulls eye every time.

I don't know why that didn't scare off potential boyfriends...

As for the horse thing...I will start by saying that the horseback counselors were EXTREMELY patient with me. My sisters could ride...and my sister N was an amazing equestrienne...but me...Lord help me, I can't sit on a horse without falling off or at least looking very very very stupid.

It should have been in my DNA to be able to ride...but God skipped that part in the mix that is me. Just like the "can play tennis" gene and the "can hit/throw/catch a ball" gene, I didn't get the "can sit on a horse and ride" gene.

Dana, my favorite counselor ever, was a horseback counselor...I tell you that because it would have been unbearable to ride or go on the overnights if not for her.

The 2nd worst words ever for me to hear at camp: "we are going on a trail ride"...

WORST words to hear: "Goodbye...see you next summer"...

(I also hated hearing that my parents had shown up...because that meant I for sure had to leave...)

My last year I led that Eagle Horseback drill. Not because I was the best rider. I think it was because I could remember the pattern.

There will be more on this in a later blog...because the Eagle drill and Eagle cabin deserve their own blog...and I just can't bear to write about overnights on the mountain when I am so happy right now...because that was total misery for me...but not really...just in terms of "camp misery" which is all relative...

So back to the reunion...

We stayed up late watching videos/slide shows and playing games...and drinking wine and beer. Never got to do THAT with Julie and the counselors before...maybe because I was 15...

I think I went to bed at 1:30.

Got up at 7:30 and took a good walk around the camp we were staying at. Sue and Tracy, the organizers, had the genius idea to stay there because it was the ORIGINAL site of the original FMGC...except it was called "Holiday Hills"...

We had breakfast and then gathered up to go walk up some hill called "Old Baldie".

But before we left some more magic happened...Miss Annette showed up!

Miss Annette ran the horse lot. When she wasn't dealing with privledged princesses at camp, she taught ballet. She had a horse named "Odette" named after the swan in Swan Lake. I thought that was the best name ever for a horse owned by a ballet teacher.

I couldn't ride...but I could do ballet. I think that is why she put up with me.

I walked up to her and told her who I was...afraid she would not remember me but rather my sister.

Nope...sly little fox she was she knew just who I was...and did not mix me up with my sister and remembered that I showed cattle and that was my talent...not horses.

I thought I loved her all I could...but that proved that I could love her more...she's awesome...

We said our hellos and then set out on the walk. Tracy told us it was just a 1/4 mile to Old Baldie and then we would climb up (it has steps) and see a great view.

We got lost...

We went the wrong way...

About a mile in to the 1/4 mile walk (yes, you read that right) we told her that she must be leading us the wrong way. We found a lovely gentleman in a pickup truck and Cindy asked directions and somehow charmed him into letting us hitch a ride with him.

15 women in the back of a pickup truck.

A few climbed in the cab but most of us were in the bed of the truck.

We looked like a group of crazy women who were being let out of the asylum for a brief field trip.

Piled in to the bed of the truck we sang and laughed and sang some more. And held on to the truck and each other for dear life as the guy driving us seemed to forget he had women sitting in the bed of the truck...

The camp is located in a neighborhood. Those poor people...

I think some of the neighbors got worried after seeing us in the truck...because we really did look crazy...

He dropped us off at Old Baldie and that is where the 218 steps comes in...

Because to get to the top of the hill, you have to climp up 218 stone steps. At least that is what Tracy told us. I think it was more than 218...but that is what she said so that is what I will claim...

I looked at the top of the hill, not quite seeing it...even though it was pretty steep and straight up.

218 steps...

did I really want to try that?

youbetcha...

50 steps in...notsomuch...

Going through my brain is the following:
218 steps
I hate heights
I hate climbing stairs
I hate climbing down steep stairs
218 steps
I'm wearing my crazy "shape up" shoes which are NOT flat
it is very hot
218 stone steps
that's a long way...

But I started it and dammit I was going to get to the top...

about halfway up I got pretty winded...

I took a 20 second break...

I went further...took a 10 second break...

Anne encouraged me to finish...Amanda encouraged me to finish...Jane encouraged me to finish...I was almost at the top...

and I got there...

I got there...

218 steps...

I got there...

and the view was spectacular...but being there with my camp friends was priceless...and the fact that I could even get up there was...well, I can't really tell you because I might sound too full of pride in myself...

because, as those of you who read my blog know...it was a trip up the stairs that changed my life and got me to lose the weight and start working out...and that was just 20 steps...

20 steps that changed my life...

and 218 steps that I was able to climb now because I changed my life...

and yes, I plan to tell Precious and Adorable History Teacher that I climbed up 218 steps because I changed my life after not being able to climb up 20 with him...and yes, he will applaud...because I will make him...and because he is Precious and Adorable and he does what I ask him to do...

we said a prayer at the top of the hill...it was wonderful...

coming down should have been a lot easier but since I had on those shape up shoes with the curved bottom it was not...and it scared me...because I hate heights and stairs...

but the whole way down I kept saying "I just climbed up 218 steps and I did not have a heart attack"...and that felt DAMN good...and it was all the better because I did it with people I love...

6 months ago I wouldn't have even thought about it...
6 months ago I would have stayed back and not even tried to go to the hill, much less thought about climbing it...
6 months ago I wouldn't have even gone on the walk...

3 months ago I would have been intimidated and most likely given up...

but yesterday I climbed 218 steps...and it felt good...

I have way more to blog about the reunion...but right now I am tired (in a good way) and really want a nice long soak in the tub...

and I don't want to talk about returning to FMGC campsite in the same blog as climbing the steps...because going back to camp was so so so special...it deserves its own blog...especially for those of you who couldn't be there with us...

but yesterday I climbed 218 steps...

Inspiration song: "Climb Every Mountain" from "The Sound of Music".
2 reasons:
1) we had a song we called "Climb Friday Mountain" sung to the same tune
and
2) we should ALL do as the song says...climb every mountain...ford every stream...follow every rainbow...until you find your dream...

Climbing 218 steps would have been a dream for me 6 months ago...now it is a reality...

Bye Darlings...more tomorrow...and here is a link to Elizabeth's photos...they are AMAZING...

http://picasaweb.google.com/esimmons76/FMGCReunion2010#

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Everybody Got Their Something

So the other day my friend Bacchus was wearing this really great t-shirt.

It was "think pink" day at school in honor of the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure and Breast Cancer Awareness month. The kids and teachers all wore pink shirts, or race shirts...it was pretty great...

I was helping my team teach our art history course to The Cutest Boy in the World's 7th grade class that day. I teach in Bacchus' classroom.

I told him I loved the t-shirt he had on...it was really cute...and then I saw how amazing and special it was when I saw the back.

His wife's name was on the back in a pink ribbon.

BECAUSE SHE IS A SURVIVOR...
OF BREAST CANCER...

That warrior woman taught school all while having breast cancer.

Take a moment to contemplate teaching kids while having chemo...

did you put your brain there?

SCARY place...scary enough to teach...scary enough to have chemo...now COMBINE those frights together...

and she did it...and never missed a beat.

I was mad at Bacchus for not telling me...but she is "good" now so I have forgiven him but wish I had known so I could have supported him...or at least prayed for her.

So the shirt was not only cute but SPECIAL...

And Bacchus had ONE FOR ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was so happy and honored to get it...and so happy that his wife was better and her name was on it...

and then I hit misery because I looked at the size of the shirt...

He thinks I wear a "large".

Now to most of you, wearing a large would be horrifying. And you would be insulted to have a man hand you a size "L" shirt. But to me, a large would be a victory!

Because I haven't been a large in so long that Ke$ha Barbie was in elementary school.

I was a 3XL last spring...and a 2XL most of the summer...and barely an XL lately.

I wasn't insulted that he gave me a large...I was bummed.

Because there was no way that shirt was going to fit me. And I really really really wanted to wear the shirt.

Especially because at that moment I was wearing a silk dress that had tempera egg paint all over the bottom of it from the art history class.

I told him I was going home to change...

"into the shirt?"

"um...yeah...I'll put it on for you!"

right...

Damn...

So I went home and took off the silk dress. And I put on the shirt...

AND IT TOTALLY FIT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I danced around my closet. I danced around my bathroom. Remember, I am a prima ballerina...in my bathroom...when no one is around...

The shirt fit...the shirt fit...

People, I wear a "L"...that stands for large...not an XL...not a 2XL...and thank my sweet Lord in Heaven (because He helped me get here), not a 3XL!!!!!!!!!!!!

I threw on a skirt and dashed back up to school. Busted back into his classroom (no kids in there at that time) and made him and Precious and Adorable History Teacher (he was in the room) hug me and clap and tell me I looked good.

Precious and Adorable History Teacher pointed out that the sleeves were very roomy and he thought I could wear a smaller size because it was not tight at all.

Have I told you that he is wonderful? And precious and adorable? The man knows how to charm a woman...he gets my kidney if he needs it...that comment alone guaranteed it...

I put my arms around Bacchus (who is not as huggy a person as Precious and Adorable is) and kissed his cheek and told him I loved him...not for the shirt (which was pretty great and pretty cute and FIT) but because his beautiful wife's name was on the back and I was proud to support her in her victory...and that I loved doing it in a smaller shirt than I expected to be able to wear...and that he was a pretty great guy and I know that last year had to be pretty hard on him too...

Oh yes...and he had washed it so it had already shrunk...it just got better...

I went downstairs and cried to GOTT and TTG...I told them both how much I loved them for helping me get to a better place with myself. I promise you I could not do this without them. I had my friend Musical Muse (the music teacher) read the tag on my shirt...we hugged and got a bit teary...or at least I did...and then I full out started to cry...

My victory with the t-shirt is a very small insignificant tiny thing compared to Bacchus warrior wife and her battle.

And she is not my only friend to stare breast cancer in the face and say "ha!" and defeat it. And not a one of them had an easy time doing it.

They all battled.

They are all warriors.

They are the most beautiful women I know.

They have been through immeasurable pain and stress and discomfort.

They have had poison drip through their veins all in the name of healing.

They have had their bodies cut into and sliced and diced up to remove those horrible cancer cells that threatened their lives and dared to TRY and take them from their loved ones.

They have had their bodies bombarded with radiation...very scary radiation.

Some found lumps. Some found it on a mammogram.

All of them had to hear the dreaded words:
"YOU HAVE BREAST CANCER"

I've had a few "funky" mammograms. They scared the hell out of me.

Last year I literally hugged the radiologist when he told me that my mammogram was "fine" and that he would see me next year.

There is nothing fun about having a mammogram (and it is way harder when you are fat and trying to contort your fat around the thing that squeezes your boob). I go to the Methodist Breast Center on Hwy 59 at Kirby. It is like the spa. A great place to go. They play soothing music. They give you lattes and Diet Coke. They read your mammogram BEFORE YOU LEAVE.

I hear Memorial City has the same set-up.

Point here: GO AND GET A MAMMOGRAM IF YOU ARE DUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So my warrior friends who have won this battle are truly goddesses...and I am grateful to God for healing them and returning healthy women to their families.

So "Shout Out" to my girlfriends who have won the battle over the tatas...
YOU TOTALLY ROCK AND ARE AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU ALL SO VERY VERY VERY MUCH!!!!!

I am winning my little battle. I hate to even compare it in the same blog. I feel ashamed and small to even write about me losing weight at the same time as talking about my friends who have had breast cancer.

My victory is small and insignificant. It is unimportant.

Their victory is mighty...

But everybody has their something to battle. Some of us face big battles---hell, some have faced WARS...I have faced small battles:
losing my mom
losing my dad
my weight

But I haven't faced anything like cancer.

And God willing...I never will...

But if I do, I have some mighty fine survivor girlfriends that can help me through...

So...put on your pink...hug a survivor...pray for those we have lost to this terrible disease...get a mammogram...make a donation to breast cancer research...be aware...

This blog is dedicated to my Warrior Women...you know who you are...I am sending you all hugs and kisses and love...and I thank God you are here!!!!!!

Inspiration song: "Everybody Got Their Something" by Nikka Costa. Fun little ditty. Because we all have battles to face...

Bye Darlings...

Monday, October 4, 2010

Bang Pop


Ahhhh,Victor Costa...

you were my hero!

How could I have gotten through a formal without you?

Taffetta dresses...princess length..."crumbcatcher" on the strapless bodice...big bow in the back...

Or maybe the style with the ruffled sweetheart neckline?

Had one of those too...

I had a really cute sapphire blue one that I was particularly fond of...double crumbcatcher at the bodice, "cumberbund" style sash at the waist...made a beautiful huge bow on the back of me...princess style with large ruffle on the bottom...plenty of netting petticoat to keep it full...

I wore it to a formal.

A formal where the band played "Shout" and we all went shimmying down to the floor on the "a little bit softer now" part. And then we shimmied our way up on the "a little bit louder now part". It was all good until...

RRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

Some idiot had stepped on the bottom of my dress.

Ripped it clean in half.

It went from Princess Diana to Cindy Lauper in one rip.

So there I stood with my ripped dress...ripped just over the knee area horizontally...petticoat showing. In tears...

My date, who I have forgotten but I have my suspicions as to who it may have been, knelt on the floor and proceeded to rip the bottom completely off the dress...he did the same with the petticoat.

Actually, it looked pretty cute when he was done...I ripped a section off of the torn part and made a hair bow...Cindy Lauper all the way...

My mother was furious when I got home with the dress. But she got it properly hemmed and I think I wore it as a costume. To be Cindy Lauper...

Every once in a while I look on eBay for the vintage Victor dresses...I try to use them in the shows at school when I can...I have a few in our costume collection...the girls think they are hilarious. They are 14 years old so anything poofy and full of tafetta makes them laugh.

I used a bunch of Gunne Sax dresses last year for our fall show. Remember those? They were the height of fashion during the "Little House on the Prarie" phase. I had several. Some looked more Laura Ingalls than others. One was white, off the shoulder with a large ruffle, with large purple flowers---I loved loved loved that dress.

Why all of the fashion reminiscing?

Because this past weekend, Ke$ha Barbie went to her Junior Cotillion. And she wore quite a dress...what little of it there was.

Cotillion is basically a prom type dance where the girls invite the boys and pay for it all. The girls at Ke$ha Barbie's high school have their Cotillion with girls at 2 other high schools in the area. The goal is to have the cutest date and the best dress.

Ke$ha Barbie had an amazing dress...and of course some other girl showed up in it. But Ke$ha Barbie's friends all assured her that she totally won the battle of the dresses with her looks and styling.

The dress was a "bandage" dress. Not a Herve Leger (good grief, I won't buy expensive shoes so there was no way I am buying couture!), but a BCBG knock-off of a Leger.

The bandage dress looks just as described...like being wrapped in bandages...she looked like a mummy.

A gold and black mummy...with only her torso wrapped.

It's like a Spanx dress. That tight.

It was short. She had it altered without me. Not going to happen again. I think it was too short, especially with her mile-high stilletos. That was not good.

Her father was out of town. He didn't see the dress live and in person. That was good.

But she looked incredible. Amazing. Gorgeous.



My mother would have told me to be quiet and just admire her.

Heck, if I could wear the dress I would so why not let my 17 year old knock the socks off of everyone because she can. She's only young once.

And at least with a dress like a bandage some stupid boy can't step on it and rip it when she is shimmying down on a song.

And maybe, when I get all of this weight off, I will buy myself one of those bandage dresses...after all, they are like a dress made of Spanx...that could work...especially if I put some Spanx underneath...and don't breathe...

Inspiration Song: this is a really fun one..."Bang Pop" by Free Energy...I love love love it...it's my new favorite song...getting a lot of play on my iPod...

bye darlings!