Day After Dia de Los Muertos

I had planned on participating in that writing a blog a day for the month of November game...but well, yah I forgot yesterday was November 1st (aka dia de los muertos).

Let me tell you a story.

Way....back....when....the earth cooled.

Okay, not that far back.

How about October 1990? Whew now that's 20 years ago! TWENTY...how'd that happen? Hold please why I try to catch my breath at the thought that 20 years has past since I lived in Mexico.

Yep, my Junior year in college, first semester I was an exchange student who lived with a wonderful family in Guadalajara Mexico.  I went to the University of Guadalajara Center for foreign students (in Spanish I think that's Centro Estudios por (or para) los Extranjeros (CEPE) I think...what? It's been 20 years).  For the Dia de los Muertos celebration a couple of us decided to travel to Patzcuaro, Michoacan - a place known for its celebration of dia de los muertos.

We hopped on a bus...a packed bus, with our over night cases, and a dinner packed from our respective parents and we were off. We had a hotel reserved, but we didn't have a clue what to do when we got there.  Oh the free spirit of the young. 

On the bus we were actually able to find seats together - it was a rare thing to find seats, let along together.  We talked about what we should do when we got there, and how we should go about finding the cemetery.  We knew that Patzcuaro wasn't overly big and we'd most likely be able to ask a local.  The ride was long, bouncy and bumpy...but we arrived.  Upon arriving I realized my camera was tucked safely in my drawer at home. Argh. No photos of what was sure to be a fantastic day/night.

We found our hotel and deposited our bags and we headed out.

Four American girls with varying levels of Spanish, in search of the cemetery. We had no idea where it was or how to get there.  We stopped at a restaurant and had some beer dinner.While eating our waiter started up a conversation with us.  He was a nice young man who seemed to have manners and was thrilled to talk to us about his town. When he realized why we were in town, he offered up himself and his twin brother as our guides.  (look away mom...) so we said, sure.  The four of us, his twin and him hopped into a small Datsun pick up and off we went.

Side bar: looking back now it was extremely unsafe of us. I can't believe I felt so invincible to just hop into a truck (granted it was the bed of the truck) with two men/boys we didn't know.  

We stopped at the bottom of a HUGE mountain.  Our guides pointed to the top of the mountain and said, the cemetery was up there. And we began to climb.

At the top of the hill, mountain, whatever was this HUGE statue that I for the life of me can't remember what it was of. I just remember it was enormous...I'm gonna google it...hold please.

Right, so this isn't my picture, but that's the hill (which looks smaller I might add) and that's the statue.  Behind the statue is the cemetery and most of the town.

Anyway, we reached the hill at/around 10 pm and climbed with hundreds of people to the top. Once there I was stunned to see the hundreds and hundreds of people already there and celebrating. 

The graves well all decorated. Food sat out for the spirits.  Families gathered and talked about their loved ones that passed. It was magical.

We spent about 4 hours up there walking through the cemetery talking to misc families. Our guides introduced us to his family, and their neighbors, and their cousins, and their relatives from the north, and more relatives...it was insane. 

My memories of that night are still quite vivid...details aren't so vivid, but I remember thinking how fantastic it was for these people to celebrate their families and the passing of loved ones.  Some may think it's morbid, but I thought it was respectful and honorable. 

Mexico has a lot of culture...and a bad rap for the border towns.  But when I look back to my 6 months there I smile.  It was such a wonderful experience that I'm sure helped shape me into who I am.  I know it helped me remember not to ask "tienes juevos?" (A colloquialism meaning "do you have balls?") and follow it with "Queiro los grandes" - meaning I want the big ones.  Yes, I learned a lot in Mexico.  Much won't be forgotten.

Its the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown

Or if not, it's the Great Pumpkin Carving Bash Charlie Brown.

And great it was.

Wow. I haven't been in stitches over conversations in a long time.  Without going into too much detail because this is a PG-13 blog we discuss politics, porn, children, chocolate, the 3 day, food, chocolate, pumpkins, drill bits, chocolate, food, and porn.

I think that covered it.

First let's talk food.  I asked all my scary guests to bring their scariest appetizers.  And there were a few scary items.  One contained bell peppers. Blech!  I made chocolate cupcakes...TWICE.  I had an issue with the first homemade batch that sent me scrambling across the street to QFC to buy cake mix to make a second batch - that was scary.  I put chocolate ganache as the frosting to make it no so scary.

I made Spider Deviled Eggs.  Good times.  And let me tell you, for the first time EVER, I didn't break a single egg white shell. You know how when you're making deviled eggs you get a little aggressive with the whites and sometimes they rip.  Or is it just me? Never mind. They were good.

I don't know this person sitting next to me. Okay it's Blueberry.  We were playing the "see food" photo op game...well okay she was playing.  I was supposed to, but I thought it way funnier if only she did it. That was so witchy of me.

 Back to the food.  Eyeballs anyone? ChickenLady brought these fabulous white bread roll ups with pimiento spread and green olives.  Hello 70's!  They were quite tasty.  For eyeballs anyhow.

The eyeballs later got used as eyes in my pumpkin.  Creative don't ya think? That thing hangin out of its mouth is a tongue or also known as a shrimp.

Back to the food, we had a lot.  I need not say more.  There was a lot. 

I don't know these crazy people who took over my house.

Okay, I know them.  From Left to Righ: Crazy Lori, ChickenLady, Me, Seattle SIL, Mr. Volleyball (the token male), Gypsy Moth, Blueberry, Claudia and Suzanne.  Crazy! The lot of them.

I had all my hats out of the closet and asked each guest to wear one. Crazy Lori came with her own, but everyone was a sport and sported a hat or headband.

  

For the first time every, we had a drill at the pumpkin carving. Claudia gets the prize for not only the most creative carving instrument, but the messiest!  I'll never get all the pumpkin guts off my floor!

She had a very holy pumpkin. I felt like I should have it blessed.

 Oh look ... more food...

 At the end of the night, we had pumpkin guts everywhere, no cut fingers, and some darn creative pumpkins.

Oh and my skel-a-mingos scared away all the bad vibes.

Gypsy Moth's Pumpkin.  Windows with a door. Cute. Clever.

Claudia's Holy Pumpkin...

She cut her pumpkin in half to make it easier to clean...to me it looks like a pumpkin had exploded.

ChickenLady gets BIG KUDOS for free-handing this. 

Blueberry's Masterpiece...

So I have to admit she's related? 

So until next year...you all stay safe, plan ahead for your carving art, and don't take candy from strangers.

Purr More. Hiss Less.

A former co-worker gave me a sticker in the heat of serious work pain, a sticker that said, "Hiss More. Purr Less."  No wait, that's not right, it said, "Purr More. Hiss Less."  Yes, that's it.

I have the sticker up in the office of the new gig.  I find comfort in looking at it daily. It reminds me of two things of which I'm thankful:

1) I no longer work a company with questionable ethics, but still have friends there.

2) I should really Purr More and Hiss Less.

I was thinking about how far I've come since April of this year.  Last year at this time whodathunk I'd have three jobs in 2010. Certainly not me.  I was naively secure in my job and secretly hated it.  I knew I had to move on, but didn't have the courage or time to really do it.  Then it was done for me. 

As it turned out, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. 

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a blog about "Attitude is Everything."  And I've never really felt it as much as I feel it in the current job.  I'm surrounded by people who positive, pleasant attitudes.  Its kinda foreign to me and I keep waiting for the rose colored glasses to come off. But I truly believe this group is all sorts of shades of good attitude.

I'm not naive to think they don't have their issues, because I think issues is what helps drive the good attitude.  Frustration does prevail at times, but it is quickly swept away when you get a thank you from your boss, or better your bosses boss. 

Yesterday, the big boss of the group took the time to come down to my office (now, he could have just been passing by, but I like to believe he took time out of his busy day) and give me a huge thank you for some recent work I had done.  The work I had done wasn't rocket science - and yet it needed to be done.  His thank you will go miles with me.  The simple two little words makes everything I do worthwhile.

Being appreciated is something I've missed. The next 8 months I'm going to lap up all the appreciation calories I can! Which will help me purr more.  A lot more.

Leavenworth

Each year the "men" of our world take off and go "hunting".  Each year said men (fathers, brothers, uncles friends etc) pack their camping gear and head to the mountains for a week (or two) of hunting.  All the while, the "ladies" of the pack would stay home.

Many MANY years ago, the MomUnit and Mrs. Bras-pir would head out for a day trip while the guys were up hunting.  Sometime 5ish years ago us other girls were included and a tradition of a Girl's weekend/week vacation started.   This year, we headed to Leavenworth. 

As with any good vacation we had to have a planning party.  The planning included deciding to take the train, inviting and paying for the MomUnit to join us, doling out responsibilities for the trip (ticket purchaser, hotel purchaser, dinner maker etc).  My only responsibility was to make dinner for the train trip on Friday night.  I can handle that, no prob.

Friday night, October 22
We're all set.  The MomUnit made it to town.  We're packed.  Crab hats at the ready...and we're on our way to Seattle to pick up Seattle SIL.  Almost to Seattle SIL's house and suddenly I remember that I forgot the muffaletts I made for our train dinner. DOH!  No time to head back.  Guess we get Subway.  Far cry from the muffalettas, but still better than what the train would have fed us.

We decided to take the train from Everett for multiple reasons.  It was quick and easy and I highly recommend the train to Leavenworth.  No hassle and cheap!

The MomUnit, Mrs. Bras-pir, Seattle SIL waiting for the train

And here it comes....

Now arriving.....

Whoosh!

The Crab Hats can hardly contain themselves!

And so we were off to Leavenworth. We arrived Friday night around 8:30, took a shuttle to our hotel and promptly pulled out the crab hats for investigation and wear!

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Up at a normal time, we had breakfast in the hotel. Free "breakfast" is always a good thing. While I love going out to breakfast when I'm at home, I kinda prefer to not when I'm on vacation.

On our way into town from the hotel, we walked past a hillside that was being managed by two goats.  Did you know goats had rectangle iris'? I didn't. It was freaky to see this weird eyes looking at me.

They were BaaaaaHd....

Leavenworth, for those non Washingtonians, is a Bavarian village up in the mountains.  It was a logging town that was dying. Then in the 70's some brilliant business man convinced the city council to make it kinda a resort town with a Bavarian/German theme.  And Leavenworth the tourist destination was born.

It's cute. It's quaint. It's some place I'd never live ...although it does have a Starbucks.

We walked the day away going into all the shops and finding little treasures we couldn't possibly live without.  This was one such treasure.

Yes. Yes, I did buy a Flamingo hat.

We lunched at a highly recommended place called King Ludwigs.  German sausage, German potato salad, Sour Kraut (side note: What do you call a grumpy German?  A sour kraut! hahahahah) and some pickled red cabbage for good measure. 

During our day of shopping and walking we decided to take a little horse and carriage ride. Now it has been my experience that typically these rides include a bit of the history about the place.  The driver would usually point out historical landmarks, and tell somewhat true historical stories.  Not the case here.  We did learn, however, where the crazy cat lady of Leavenworth lived.  So I guess it wasn't a total bust.

Sunday, Oct 24, 2010
We were up at the butt crack of dawn (actually the butt crack before dawn) to catch the train at 6AM back into Seattle.  Ugh. We were all tired and none of us slept very well the night before.  We drug ourselves to the train station and hopped on for our trip home.

All in all we had beautiful weather, fantastic food, great conversation and good friends.  What more could you ask for in a weekend?  I will leave you with these last few shots. 

The rest of the photos are here.

A little Neosporin for the soul

Scars! We all have them. Some more than others. Some deep, some superficial, but all of them have a story.

We have scars we can see, like the big one on my left arm. And scars we can’t see, like the heart that’s been broken too many times.

This post is not about the soul scars. There isn’t enough blog space in the world to capture all the scars I have from loves lost, hurt feelings, missing loved ones, etc. I’ll just leave that one alone for today’s posting.

Scars of the other type are interesting little creatures to me. Someone asked me the other day about a scar on my left arm and how I got it. Looking down at the 3 inch scar I was transported into the mid 1980’s when I got the scar. I can tell you what I was doing, where we lived, and how it happened.

Then I started thinking about all my scars. Each one has a story to tell. Some may be only vague because of the alcohol induced experience that resulted in a scar (hypothetically speaking of course). So let’s take a walk down scar lane shall we. It’s close to Halloween, so why not. I promise, no pictures. That would be wrong and gross.

Let’s start with the ankle. On my right inside ankle I have a straight line scar. I have no recollection of this scar, but my mom does. Apparently as an itty bitty baby I wasn’t exactly healthy and almost didn’t make it. The scar was from where they put the IV into me. Or so I’m told. I’ll forever be grateful that I don’t remember that story. I’m sure I would have had the vapors if the doctor had told me where he was going to cut and put the IV.

On my right knee, there’s a little scar from biting it on my bike. When we lived in Landscatter (aka Lancaster) California, we lived by the desert. To put it in perspective, everything was “by the desert” in Landscatter. It was, after all, in the middle of the Mojave desert. Still, as kids we played in the desert All.The. Time. It was safe, relatively. It had bike trails. It had hills on the bike trails. The “hills” screamed for us to ride our bikes fast and attempt to get air. I did too. Once! Thus the scar.

On my left knee there’s a scar from falling off a curb in Squim Washington. The Parental Units decided a family getaway would be fun…in Squim. Mom and I were coming out of a, or rather THE grocery store in Squim and this curb jumped right out in front of me…and I bit it. Tore my favorite jeans too…but thankful it was 1986 and jeans with torn knees were cool. I was finally cool. What wasn’t cool was the blood stain on the jeans…but whatever.

On my left arm there’s that big 3 inch gash from 1980. We were living in Landscatter. The MomUnit, The GrandParentalUnits, my sister and I all lived in a nice, little house (seeing the house years later as an adult I’d say it was more like a matchbook). There were several kids in the neighborhood that I played with. One sunny day us kids were out playing Hide-N-Go-Seek. I found a good hiding place behind this HUGE pine tree that butted up against the brick wall fence. The neighbor’s cat was on top of this brick fence just sitting minding his/her’s own business. What I didn’t know was the neighbor’s dog was behind the fence. He started making a huge ruckus that scared the cat, that then used my left arm to slide down to the ground.

It was a nasty gash too. Gma Spaid cleaned it (that was fun – NOT). She bandaged it. Then she promptly told me I wasn’t going to the movies that afternoon because of the gash(es). I was devastated. I wasn’t able to go to the movies because of a stupid cat.

I should also mention, that the years have been kind to the multiple wounds I had from that cat. There must have been at least 6 little wounds too. If I search and look real hard I can see them.

Still on the topic of my left hand, I have another little itty bitty scar at the base of my pointer finger. This scar is a burn scar. I was cooking Spaghetti-O’s about 5 years ago (What? Don’t all adults still eat Spaghetti-O’s?) that had been cooking in the microwave. As I stirred, some yummy Spaghetti-O juice popped onto my hand and burnt the bejesus out of me.

New to the scar collection on my left hand it my most recent attempt to slice off my thumb while making guacamole. It’s a beauty and it still hurts a little.

Moving over to the right hand. There’s a round-ish scar towards the middle of the back of my hand. Now this one’s a funny story. If only I could remember. I was in college and it was the weekend. I remember that. I remember that we walked down to Circle K to get more cheap beer. I remember reaching into the refrigerator to grab a six pack and somehow one of the bottle caps raked across the top of my hand…cutting a hole in it. Thankfully I didn’t really feel it until the next day.

On the write of my right hand/arm, I have an “L” shaped scar from our old microwave. Blueberry had one of those 4 THOUSAND pound beasts that were among the first ever built. Sturdy thing. And the door latch was sharp. I caught my write on the door latch and scratched up my arm…stupid thing.

The only other scars I know I have that deserve an honorable mention are the hysterectomy scars. They’re small. They’re healed – finally. They remind me all the time that I have my own personal built in heater – every now and then anyhow. Hot flashes are my friend.

So now you know more about me than you EVER wanted to really know.

Sunday Dinner - Frito Lollies

Ah yes, another successful Sunday dinner. I so love that I decided to do this.  Besides getting to see so many of my friends on a regular basis, I get to cook for small armies.  And y'all know how I love to do me some cookin'.

Part of doing Sunday dinners was about comfort food. All the meals that make us feel good. The meals that remind of us the days long ago.  Or in some cases, maybe the food is helping make a new memory. Regardless, I feel connected to my menus each month. This month is no different.

The Sunday Dinner Crew brought to you in retro seventies:

Back row, left to right: Mrs. NotSoNewlyWed, The Cutest Kid Ever, Mr. NotSoNewywed, The Dane

Front Row: Chef Jenn, ChickenLady, Seattle SisterInLaw, Claudia Who Needs a NickName, Blueberry, and BigBro.

Our family tradition is to make Frito-Lollies on Christmas eve.  While I look forward to that very year, and make gasping sounds of disgust if the MomUnit even dares suggest anything but Frito-Lollies on Christmas Eve, I think they are perfect for any cold day.

What are they? Well, they're simple.  Chile, Fritos, and all the trimmings.  Some people call them Pepper Bellies. Others call them Straw Hats.  Regardless what name is put on them, one thing is for certain, "Where the hell did the names come from?"  I mean really? Straw hats?

So you start with Fritos.  Now there was much discussion about the proper way to build your Frito-Lolly, but I am certain MY way is the right way.

Right - so you start with making chili early in the day and you let that chili simmer down until its thick, rich, and full of chili goodness.  You should, hypothetically, though, be sure to not confuse you cayenne pepper with your chili powder. Not that I almost did that...no, not me.

After you've got your chili made, and it's simmered good and long. Call the peeps to the table and explain the proper method of building a Frito-Lollie.

Start with the Fritos.  A nice bed of crunchy-ness on the bottom of the plate.  Filler up.

Once you have your bed of Fritos, next ladle on the chili and don't be shy. Like I said, I made enough for a small army. Note: This photo was early in the chili making yesterday. It sat and cooked, and simmered, and made mad chili flavor for 3 hours.  It was dark, rustic and flavorful. 



Now, here's where the controversy came into play. Some wanted to put the lettuce, cheese, tomatoes, onions and sour cream on the fritos BEFORE ladling on the chili madness.  They were whipped and sent to their rooms without supper.  Folks, tradition says you MUST put that stuff on AFTER the chili.  Fritos, chili, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and onions.  That's the way.  Unless you're Chef Jenn and then you'd leave off the lettuce, tomatoes and onions.  Nothing, but nothing gets between me and my chili.

After you've devoured a plate or two of this, you lay flat and let your stomach stretch. Because for dessert is still to be had.

Chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting. Yes mam.  Pass the expando pants.

I made them last week in a test run and they were so good how could I not make them again.

 

I'm salivating just looking at these photos.  I tried to warn everyone that they were horrible, gross, disgusting cupcakes and no one believed me.

Mmmmm...cupcakes....

Okay, I'll stop now.  I'll stop to lick my fingers! 

Next month I'm toying with chicken pot pie for dinner.  I got two very enthusiastic thumbs up from ChickenLady for that on the menu.  And since she is the ChickenLady, she would know best if Chicken Pot Pie would please the Sunday Dinner Crew. 

2010 Seattle Susan G. Komen 3 Day for the Cure PHOTOS

Finally, I know.  I only had 1000 photos to go through, fix and then resave.  Then I had to upload them ALL to Snapfish so I could later order them. Then I had to pair them down again for Flickr.  Phew! A Walker Stalker / Photographer's work is never done.

But at last, here they are.  And relax, there are only 146 of them - give or take!

This is my favorite photo this year.  I put it in black and white because I felt like it gave so much more to the emotion of the 3 Day.

Bring out your Pink!

Ah…October.  What a lovely month!  October happens to be my favorite month for many reasons.  One because the trees are all changing from their beautiful green to the vibrant oranges, yellows and eventually browns.  There’s a crisp snap in the air every morning that reminds you that its fall.  The smell of wood burning in stoves as the days and nights get slightly cooler.  Ah yes, October, my favorite month.

It’s also my favorite month because the whole world, it seems, stops and recognizes breast cancer.  Pink is everywhere…and I mean everywhere – and no I’m not looking in my closet…In the grocery stores, products supporting breast cancer come out with pink on their boxes, or pink promotions of some sort.  It’s the month where the call to action is PINK and PINK is the word.

There is a small part of me that is afraid that the PINK is overdone a bit and by the amount of awareness that’s out there these days, that people will start glossing over it and, worst, ignoring it.  Still, Pink is in for the month of October.

Of course October is also the month after the 3day. I’m usually still on the 3day high in October, and this year with the Seattle 3Day later, the high is definitely going to pull me through the month of October.

I’ve written a lot about the spirit of the 3day and have tried as best I could to get those of you who haven’t been around it to understand just what a gloriously welcoming and warm and non-judgmental place it is.  It’s like trying to show how impressive the Grand Canyon is by a picture. You don’t get it until you’re standing on its edge and gawking in wonder.  I still gawk in wonder at the 3day. It never ceases to surprise me with the emotion, the love, the joy, and the pain that seeps out of those 3 long, exhausting days. 

I worry that as each year passes that friends and family will hear me talk about the 3Day and roll their eyes and think, “There she goes again.”  For me, I get excited about the 3day even though I am not walking in it.  I still get to be a part of it, and support Team Wraspir with hot dogs, chairs for their weary bones, and comedy (fell down a hill this year and got my butt all muddy, had a sympathy blister for them and whined about it).  I plan for months for the 3Day.  I start thinking immediately following the 3Day what I can do next year (yes, the true PM Goddess in me comes out and I do a little post mortem).  I start seeking pink stuff on sale for next year’s event.  Plan. Reflect. Plan some more. Reflect a whole lot more.

I recently read a blog that talked about the 3Day and really can’t say it any better than this blogger did.

“This one event has given me more hope than any scan result.

On the 3-Day for the Cure you are transported. Transported to a world where the cure is already a reality: a world without death, a world with only hope and love. You are transported from a place of helplessness to a place full of power. From a place of illness to a place of immense strength. From a place of disappointment, to a place of success. Surrounded by the sound of thousands of determined feet, you can't help but feel carried. When you cry, and you will cry, there are thousands of shoulders available for comfort.

Everyone has a story, one is sadder than the next, and you are no longer alone. I also think the sheer length of the walk, three days and 60 miles, makes every interaction more poignant. Like a summer love where two days can feel like two years, friendships formed along the 3-Day for the Cure feel like lifelong bonds after only a few minutes.

And the finish line!

Thousands of women and men line up shoulder to shoulder in their matching victory shirts and form a tunnel through which you are literally carried. When you cross the finish line, bandaged and broken. When you hobble across the finish and think, surely, I cannot move another step. Instead of collapsing, you are greeted by thousands of high fives, deafening cheers, and are rained on by your fellow walker's tears of joy and sorrow. You are lifted up. Your limp is transformed into a confident stride. By being part of something bigger, you feel as though you could easily walk another 60.”

*sniff sniff

Ahem…right…pass the Kleenex

And so, here we are, October – with all its fall colors, of which Pink is one of them now.   I’ll smile just a little more this month as I see people with their pink on, supporting the cause by buying Hamburger Helper for the Cure, I’ll know that people are still very much aware of this deadly disease and how every little bit helps.  From the 3Day raising millions of dollars every year, to the purchasing of “pink” products in the store, with it all, we will find a cure. Of course if we find a cure, I can’t wear pink – but I’d gladly – GLADLY- give up my pink hat/wig/shirt collection.  Gladly!

Well, Life's Like a Road That You Travel On

I find myself sitting in awe of what the heck happened to September.  I seemed to have misplaced it somewhere and I sure can't find it (much like a few batteries - but that's another story).

Maybe the aliens took me and that could account for my lack of memory of an entire month.  I'm sure I got paid, I'm sure I did some work, I'm sure I probably cooked some and I'm sure I took some photos, but I am not sure what, when why, and who.

With September nothing but a vague memory, let's move on into October. I'm going to try to at least remember October.  Try to.

Anyhow, aside from taking photos of this cute kid I spent most the weekend going through the hundreds and hundreds of the 3Day photos.  Eventually I'll have them all done and posted to Flickr for y'all to view. I know you're dying to!  I know you're holding your breath waiting in anticipation of seeing these photos.  It's okay. Admit it! 

In other exciting news, the MomUnit will be here at the end of the month. The male ritual hunting week is coming up and all us girls are heading to Leavenworth,WA for a weekend of German goodness.  I plan on having a few German sausages and perhaps some German beer. 

This coming Sunday is Sunday Dinner. I'll be making my WORLD's FAMOUS Chili!   And by "world's famous" I really mean "World Famous to My World." The weather has turned to the fall crispness here and that means soups, stews, and chili's become part of the menu items.  I can't wait.

0 to 60 in 3 Days

What can I say about the Susan G. Komen 3 day this year that I haven’t already said? It’s an amazing three days and each year it grabs my heart and holds on with all it’s might. As a good friend said, “the Seattle 3 day owns her heart”, I couldn’t say it better myself.

Team Wraspir finished and had a lot of celebrating to do.  The team raised over $17,000 for the cure.  One small, little team of 3 walkers and one Queen Walker Stalker managed $17,000!  Truly amazing.  Their $17K was a small drop in the bucket to the $6,000,000 that was raised overall. But that small drop will make a big difference.

2200 walkers took to the street on Friday morning.  The air was crisp, and the sun was trying with all it's might to poke through the clouds.  It ultimately did and made most of Friday a good day.  We did have some rain later in the afternoon, which was annoying!

Saturday was a gorgeous day in the Seattle area.  I'm willing to bet some walkers may think it was almost too warm.   The best part of the sunnier day was it gave more of an opportunity to see some of the crazy outfits that show up at the 3 Day.  And this year, people got creative.

Sunday was rainy for most the morning. Rainy and miserable!  But it didn't stop Team Wraspir. They whipped out their ponchos and marched on. In fact the rain didn't seem to bother any of the walkers.  As I stood in a covered doorway taking pictures in the University district I was amazed - though I shouldn't have been - at just how happy the walkers seemed.  I mean it was day 3 and the rain was coming down. But it didn't seem to phase them one bit.  And that's why I love the 3 Day!

At the end of the event, I can’t say Team Wraspir made it through unscathed – well except Seattle SIL since she was skipping on day 2 and 3 – sicko! BigBro has a plethora of blisters! Blueberry also had blisters. And I, Queen Walker Stalker had a blister!  A sympathy blister...

Closing ceremonies was moving as always. They've changed up how its done and changed the speech. I didn't think they could make that speech any more moving and touching, but they found a way.  The emotion of seeing a sea of white followed by a sea of pink (Survivors) really does get the old tear ducts working. 

So the team is resting, putting their feet up (hopefully) and is making plans for next years event.  They raised the bar this year by raising so much money and will have to bring out the new fund raising ideas to beat that goal! They can do it. 

As for the Queen Walker Stalker...I too am making plans for next year.  I have more pink this year than any other year and will have to find a way to out-do myself next year. But I too will continue to be a part of this amazing event. The people, the spirit, the passion, and the emotion is addicting and I can't imagine my life without it.  So until next year, XOXO.  Walk on all you Pink Warriors. You're the greatest!

PS - I do have about 800 photos of the event still to go through.  I'll be posting them on Flickr hopefully this weekend.

Day Zero

I cannot believe it's upon us, yet here I am the day before remembering the years past. I cry a little.  I smile a lot. And my heart grows ten times...

I speak of the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3Day of course.  It starts tomorrow. TOMORROW. Where has the time gone?  Last thing I remember I was offering to make cookies for fund raising.  Which I did, and I made a nice little sum for SGK too. Thank you everyone who donated! And ate my cookies! And who complimented the cookies appropriately...even when some of the white chocolate was less than perfect! They still tasted good didn't they?

And who could forget the crazy, and successful, fund raising BigBro did this year.  Two years ago when I walked in the 3Day the idea was planted in our minds....and as all good bad fund raisers we did nothing. Until this year when BigBro decided to give it a try.  Thousands of dollars has been raised by BigBro standing and "panhandling" for the cure.  He's had comments tossed his way with money...and he was even flashed!  Still, it was an extremely successful fund raising...and he even talked my Seattle SIL into joining his insanity.

And so here we are. Our monies raised, our pink stuff pulled out, our maps in hand, our cameras charged...our hearts, souls (or soles), our energy, our love, our compassion, and our heartache are all ready to stamp out breast cancer forever and find a cure. 

As for me, the non walker, but Queen Walker Stalker, not only is all my pink ready, but I have purchased copious amounts of Kleenex...I'm assuming this year with my emotions being somewhat unchecked by lack of estrogen in my system, that I may, perhaps, cry a wee bit more.  I'm just sayin'...I may.  God knows I'll cry at opening ceremonies...and as I drive past the walkers carrying signs, and as I cheer walkers into camp, and so on and so on...I'll be a blubbering mess all weekend. And I can't wait!

And if you're in the Seattle/Everett area this weekend and want to cheer on some amazing people...come join me at a cheering station.

Cheering Stations
Public cheering stations are a great way to show your support along the route to encourage walkers and let them know that you are with them every step of the way. Seeing familiar faces cheering them on can provide that extra burst of energy that gets them to take that next step or go the next mile. Create banners, hold up signs, bring some music and make some noise - anything to make them smile, get energized and keep walking.

Friday, September 24
8:45 a.m. - 12:00 p.m.
Red Robin - 21215 Bothell-Everett Highway
Bothell, WA 98201

12:00 p.m. - 4:30 p.m.
Silver Lake Shopping Center
112th St. SE and 19th Ave. SE
Everett, WA 98208

Saturday, September 25
8:30 a.m. - 11:00 a.m.
Jackson Elementary
3700 Federal Ave.
Everett, WA 98201

11:45 a.m. - 6:00 p.m.
Fluke Corporation
9028 Evergreen Way
Everett, WA 98204

Sunday, September 26
10:45 a.m. - 1:30 p.m.
Cal Anderson Park
1635 11th Ave.
Seattle, WA 98122

And then if that's not enough, come join me at closing ceremonies.  It'll change your life.  We'll be at the Seattle center, somewhere around the Key Arena or Victory tunnel, between 1 and 4. Then closing ceremonies around 4pm. 

I'll try to blog each day, but it's unlikely...I'll be tired from all that cheering!

Give me a little Attitude

Before I step onto my soap box, I must first remove the cat from his resting place so I can type with more ease. 

Sheesh!

Right, so the soap box.

I’m a self aware person. I like to look inwards and seek answers from my past to help shape my future.  Good or bad, I find that there are very specific life lessons that has, to this day, helped me to become the woman I am today.

When I look at that woman, I find that I’m okay with who she is.  Could she afford to save more money? Of course. Could you lose a little bit of weight? Definitely.

But by and large, I like who I am. 

I’ve had a great many successes in my life and just as many, if not more, failures.  A quote I have over my desk at home reads, “If you’ve never failed, you’ve never lived.” 

But it’s about those successes I want to focus on. Not to blow wind in my sails, or sound egotistical, but rather how do I perceive that I got to those successes.

Overwhelmingly, I would say, by my attitude.

And I don’t mean “double snap in a Z” attitude. I mean my mental state of mind.

I wrote a blog recently about how I’d bet on myself every time.  And what gets me to that point is that I believe 100% in myself.  Sometimes. Most of the times.

Recently I started a photography business.  Anyone I’ve mentioned it to that knows me says, without blinking, ”You’ll be great at it.” And I usually agree with them, at least outwardly.

Inwardly (is that a word?) I’m doubting.  I can’t possibly do this.

Yes I can.

No I can’t.

YES, I CAN…

Um, NO, I cannot.

And the conversation between the committee goes on. Eventually the “Yes You Can” wins.

And for a moment I believe I can. All seems right in the world, and I am, without a doubt, making the right choice.

Then the doubting Thomas comes back.

“What are you thinking? What makes you think YOU can do this?” And on and on it goes. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Thankfully, I have this little tool to help me. Well, it’s not a tool so much as a big rock with words typed on it.

Attitude is Everything!

This rock has been with me for – well – a long time.  The person who gave it to me, once was very important to me, and in fact, I was sure I was going to marry. That person? He’s moved on.  He probably doesn’t even think of me ever anymore.  We were friends.  We were volleyball partners.  And somehow he managed to show me that Attitude is Everything.

I, like many people (I almost said women/girls, but I suspect boys/men have the same issues at times) struggled with self esteem.  It often tries to get the best of me, but I’ve learned what it’s ugly mug looks like and it has no business in my mind. 
When playing doubles volleyball, my partner, Hickey, would often tell me when I was sure the other team would crush us, he’d always remind me that the mind of a warrior is way more impressive than the brawn.  That and my killer sneaky slice shot I had.  What? I was short, I had to have other volleyball skills to play with the big dogs. 

Still, Hickey was constantly reminding me as we played, about attitude and how to bring that attitude to the volleyball court.  He gave me the rock.  He had no idea at the time, and probably still doesn’t, how much that rock as helped shape my life.

I can look at times in my life where I was the under dog, where I never should have even been where I was, yet I believed I should be. And in the end, it was that attitude that pushed me forward.

In the end of the 9^th grade, I knew I was moving schools to the “rival” across town. I knew they had a bad rifle team. I knew I was better. I tried out for captain and got it.

Egotistical? Maybe.  But I knew that my skills could help push that rifle team forward and perhaps win a few trophies.  

In 1986 my parents came to me and said we were moving to Saudi Arabia. I had the choice to stay in Washington and live with my oldest brother or go to a boarding school the Boeing company was going to pay for.  Leaving meant leaving all my new friends behind.  Starting new.  But I knew I could do it. How could I not? I had moved so many times in my life, what was one more move?

In 2005 I started taking project management classes.  I wasn’t the smartest person in the room (and frequently still aren’t), but I pushed through the classes. Then taking the Project Management Professional test was presented in front of me. Back then it was a big deal. It was a tough test.  Several smart people I knew didn’t pass it.  And yet, I figured, why not?  I studied –hard- and I passed it. 
Now I realize that those three examples I played a major role in succeeding at the goal.  But it was the knowledge that if I worked at it and tried hard, I could succeed.  And there in lies the lesson.

Attitude is only 80% of it. The other 20% is work. Hard work. 

And so while the voice of doubt will still crop up and tempt me to not even try, I hold to the words on that lovely rock given to me by someone who came into my life for a specific purpose. 

If I believe I can and if I put the required effort in for it, there’s no reason I can’t accomplish my goal.

Of course with the help of PhotoShop I can take good photos...yes I CAN!

And as if the world is speaking to me...I posted this blog and received this video.