One Hundred...

Alright, alright.  Calm down everybody.  I'm excited too, but there's really no need for confetti.  :)  Yes it's true...this is my 100th post!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know some people blog religiously...several times a week.  As you know, I am not one of those people.  I just don't have the time.  So I figure 100 posts in just under 2 years is still pretty good.  My posts have ranged from serious to funny, personal to general, sarcastic to thoughtful, whiney to grateful.  I don't get near the amount of comments that I used to (whether here or on facebook), but I don't care about that near as much as I used to either.  This has just been a creative outlet/way for me to vent.  And if anyone else has gotten anything from it (memories, a laugh, a new perspective), then that's just icing on the cake.

So I was thinking that on this most momentous of occasions, I would do a little recap of sorts.  I'm going to link some of my favorites from the last 100 posts!  Sounds like fun, right?!  Well get ready, folks.  Here it comes!

Memories...

Ending of an Era...

Favorite Things...

Top 5...

Autobiography...

The Kids' Latest... (which is not really their latest anymore)

Old Already...

Firsts...

The Power of Prayer...

October...

Movie Mash-Ups...

Feeling Lost...

Letters to Myself...

Photo Challenge...


OK, so maybe that was more than a few of my favorites.    :)   Oh well.  I guess that's all for now.  I hope you enjoyed the look back at my at my first 100 posts...I sure did!

My Dad's Stronger Than Your Dad...

You know how kids like to say that kind of thing?  Well, today I'd like to take my turn and say...My Parents Are Cooler Than Your Parents.   :)

Case in point...

That's right.  My mom is wearing leather pants, and my dad is wearing a skull cap and leather chaps.  I know...it's bad ass!  They love riding my dads Harley together.  They're even part of a motorcycle gang!  Ok, so it's not a gang exactly.  But it's still pretty awesome.  They are members of the Patriot Guard Riders.  They are a divers group of motorcycle riders from across the country, and their mission is to "attend the funeral services of fallen American heroes as invited guests of the family in order to:  show their sincere respect for our fallen heroes, their families, and their communities; and shield the mourning family and their friends from interruptions created by any protestor or group of protestors."


Point #2...

What other parents would take their children to a lake at an old fort to conjure up a ghost...at midnight...3 nights in a row?!  So maybe it's slightly less awesome, seeing as how Mom brought the holy water with her, but not by much.  It's still one of my favorite memories!  Besides, what better way for your youngest daughter's new boyfriend to get to know the family?  Yup.  Kevin was there, too.  We had been dating for approximately 3 1/2 months.  Classic!


Point #3...

They are quite simply the best grandparents in the world!  Grandkids get a red Radio Flyer wagon?  Well, I guess Grandma and Granpa better get one to have at their house so the kids never have to go without their wagon rides.  Wagon rides just not fast enough for those grandkids anymore ("Faster, Grandpa...faster!")?  Well, Grandpa better get himself a brand new bike with a bike seat so they won't be disappointed anymore.  Still not fast enough?!  I guess it's time they took a ride with Grandpa on the Harley!  What do they want for Christmas?  How about Chutes and Ladders, Candy Land, Jenga, etc...  Gotta keep those kids entertained.  Kids getting older?  "Well, I guess we better get new grass in our backyard so the kids don't get stickers in their feet when they go out to play on the new swingset that we built for them."  I joke that they are spoiling the kids, but really, they just love spending as much time with them as they can, having as much fun as they can.       Simply the best!


There are many other wonderfully awesome things I could say about my parents (quoting movies, teaching your daughter how to take a tequilla shot, getting virtually anything you want with just two letters...LD, etc.), but I'll spare the rest of you the further realization that I'm right...my parents really are cooler than your parents!

9/11/11...

In the weeks leading up to today, I have watched several documentaries and seen many recaps, and have cried many tears just remembering the tragic events of 10 years ago.  In light of today's significance, I wanted do a blog that would put all of my thoughts and feelings into words.  However, I have found that someone else already has.

The following is a post from Deacon Greg Kandra on his blog that I follow, The Deacon's Bench.  It says everything that I wanted to say, and says it far better than I probably would have been able to.  So here you go:


**Anyone who saw the 2002 Super Bowl saw something unforgettable.  And it had nothing to do with sports.


It was held in New Orleans, in the Super Dome. The half time entertainment was Bono and U-2. There must have been 100-thousand people in the stadium, cheering wildly. Bono stepped onto the stage and the lights dimmed and the crowd roared and the band began to play.


If you watch video of that performance, you can hear Bono, over the music and the cheering, speaking into his microphone: “Lord, open my lips that my mouth may sing forth your praise.” The same words spoken at the beginning of the Liturgy of the Hours in the Catholic Church.


And in fact, what followed turned out to be a kind of prayer.


As the song began, and the music swelled, behind the stage a massive banner started to rise, coming up from the floor of the stage, rising toward the ceiling, hundreds of feet above. Around the world, I imagine, millions of viewers were transfixed – stunned and moved what they were witnessing.


On the banner were projected the names of all those who had died on 9/11, less than five months before.


And the music continued, and it went on, Bono and U2 singing about a place “where the streets have no name.” And the banner kept growing, and the list kept getting longer. It seemed like it would never end. Name after name after name, like a visual litany of the lost.


Then the banner reached the roof of the Superdome. And it collapsed, rippling to the floor. For a brief moment, we were back there, and it all was happening again.


To see it so clearly was devastating.


And at the end of the song, with the crowd on its feet, screaming wildly, Bono opened his jacket and there, inside, was sewn an American flag. He stood there in defiance, and in pride, and in solidarity.

There have been so many other tributes and memorials and remembrances since that day – but nothing like that. It was raw, and it was real. An Irishman stood on a stage in New Orleans and paid tribute to a tragedy that struck New York and Pennsylvania and Washington and he said, in effect, I’m with you. Inside, I’m one of you. This is my tribute, my remembrance, my prayer.


It is difficult to capture what this anniversary means to us as Americans, as New Yorkers, as Catholic Christians. The things we feel are almost beyond words. We are still, in many ways, groping in the dark, struggling to find a way to deal with what happened, and how much our lives and our world have changed. Yet, this day, as we come before the altar of God with our prayers and petitions, our grief and our anger, we hear these words from the ancient prophet:


“Forgive your neighbor’s injustice; then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven. Think of the commandments, hate not your neighbor; remember the Most High’s covenant, and overlook faults.”


In the gospel, Jesus says it again: “Forgive your brother,” he says, “from your heart.”


But how? I wish I knew. I wish there were a mystical way to click on a forgiveness switch in the human heart. I wish I knew how to love all my enemies and pray for all my persecutors and “forgive my neighbor’s injustice” – even this most heinous injustice of all.


I think perhaps that forgiveness – like conversion – is a journey. The human heart isn’t necessarily converted over night. We don’t all have that electrifying moment on the road to Damascus. For many of us, it grows out of what Flannery O’Connor called “a habit of being.” It happens over a lifetime.


Conversion is a daily choice. So, is love.


And so, I believe, is forgiveness.


Like all of the challenges of our faith, it is something we need to pray for – to pray to able to do what we are called to do.


To love our neighbor.
To love our enemies.

To forgive our neighbor’s injustice.


C.S. Lewis put it beautifully. “To be a Christian,” he wrote, “is to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven it in us.”


A couple weeks ago, we heard Christ tells his disciples: “Take up your cross and follow me."  Well, one of the heaviest crosses is the call to forgive. Even when something seems unforgivable. Especially then. But by God’s grace – and by Christ’s example – somehow, we pick up that cross. We bear it on our backs. And we begin the long walk.


We may carry it on our backs, but what is more important is what we hold in our hearts, and it is this: that love is greater than hate; that hope is stronger than despair; that vengeance is no match for forgiveness.


This Sunday, we pray to remember that. And we pray, very simply, in remembrance.

We remember: all the lives that were lost, the martyrs who were born, the heroes who did what no one thought possible. We remember.


We remember sacrifice.

We remember courage.
We remember greatness.


At the Super Bowl, the song that Bono performed was “Where the Streets Have No Name.” Bono has said that he wrote the song about growing up in Dublin, where everyone could tell who was rich, and who wasn’t, by the street they lived on. And the place he was singing about was a city where that wouldn’t matter anymore.


It was his vision of heaven:

I’ll show you a place
Where there is no sorrow or pain…
And the streets have no names…


Our prayer is that we may one day know that place and walk those streets, in gratitude and in joy, with those we remember this day.


Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God rest in peace.




Well said, Deacon Greg.

But I Don't Wanna...

So, it's official.  I'm going to start exercising tomorrow.  But like my title so subtly suggests...I REALLY don't want to.  In fact, there's almost nothing I want to do less.  But I just can't stand it anymore.


I've got a few options:

~ I can just do my usual work out videos, which are fine.  They target specific areas.  So, that's good.  This also leads to variety in the work out, so it's not the exact same thing every day.  So I guess that's a bonus, too

~ I can do a couch to 5k training.  You know, it gradually takes couch potatoes like myself from their laziness to running a 5k (about 3 miles) in about 2 months.  Running is supposed to be really great exercise, and I know a lot of people that LOVE it.  But I just don't know if I can get over the fact that I would actually have to run. 

~ I can train for another 1/2 marathon (walking, of course).  I figure if I'm actually diligent about the training this time, and if I don't have to have a bone marrow procedure 2 weeks before the race, that maybe it won't be quite so excruciating this time.  And we did actually end up walking faster than some of the joggers we saw there.

OR

~ I could always try dance-walking.

...but I don't know if I can afford to lose any friends.   :)

Wish me luck!