What It Takes

In all my maundering to my friends about the stress of starting a new job, I've had a few conversations recently about what it takes to be successful. Well, to be a rockstar, actually, since that seems to be the preferred parlance of our service. And I'm not saying I have any intentions of being a rockstar...I'd really rather just be able to walk out at the end of the day with a sense of having made my best effort. And hopefully that's enough that I don't make a complete muck up of my responsibilities.

So what does it take to not make a complete muck up of what I'm doing? One good friend for whom I have complete respect (and is definitely a ROCKSTAR!! of the highest order...*waaay* beyond my league) said that it's a matter of momentum. You get one job that you do well at, so you're given the next bit of responsibility, and you do well at that one and you get another good job and...future success snowballs from past success. I think her exact words at one point were, "Anybody could do these jobs."

Huh, there's a bit of a reality-checking ego bomber. And I think the snowball effect  has more to do with the scope of success over a career, rather than at any one job. I may need to get her to explain her thoughts on the "anybody could do these jobs" statement as it relates to a particular position. Because, I'm not sure I agree with her. She seems to have been born with the political savvy to easily spot the shoal waters of our hierarchical organization and how to navigate around them. Me, not so much.

Tangential aside: Thank god she's my friend and has been so generous with her advice! Though, really?! do I have to wait a whole month before I take in my stability ball to use as my office chair? I mean I can understand waiting a coupla-three months before dropping the f-bomb in front of the CAPT (hopefully this never happens, but a) this is *me* we're talking about and b) my desk is like, 15 feet from his office door, so chances are good that it will eventually occur), but are they really gonna care what I sit on? Tee hee.

Anyway, back to business...

Another good friend, who is also a rockstar in his field, said that it's all about putting in the time and effort. He doesn't feel like he's anything particularly special when it comes to what he does, capability-wise, but he puts in nearly 12-hour days because he enjoys what he's doing and well, doesn't have anything better to do, since his kids aren't close by. So he gets a lot done, and is the go-to-guy in his office.

It actually sounds to me like there's two things contributing to his success: the time he puts in *and* the enthusiasm he has for what he's doing.

This is where I took a break from writing this post and went off to clean the house. As I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the tub, it occurred to me that I missed a potential critical aspect of this whole discussion. What do I mean by "success?" Or at least, what do I mean by "not failure?" Is it when someone else tells me I've done a good job, or thinks I'm good at what I do, or respects me for my capabilities?

I really hope not, because I've been trying hard lately to not give a rat's ass what other people think. It may stem from yoga classes - trying to focus on myself as I am that day, in that posture, in that moment, and not comparing how I'm doing to how I did the time before or to anyone else in the class. But, ya know what...not caring what other people think is damn hard. Contrary Goddess (I love her wisdom! And though I've never met her in person, I think of her as a wonderfully grounded mentor. There have been many times when she has said *exactly* what I need to hear.) got me thinking about this a while back in her post, which is not really about what other people think, but is about a lack of self-doubt.

People who need assurance, who are always in need of support, their egos are out of control and controlling them.  But people who can stand whether it be in the calm or in the storm, well, the only way it is possible to do that is to be ego-less... Non-attachment is ego-less-ness; it is the hand opening and not grasping, not controlling, not blaming.  There is nothing that makes you happy or unhappy outside of you.

For all my life, I've been in the former category, but see the tremendous value in tending towards the later, if for no other reason than my own sanity. However, in my profession, if I'm going to try to be ego-less, I need to examine whether my values of what it means to do a good job align with what my organization values. Because if not, I will always, *always* be fighting a depressing battle, with the very real possibility of losing myself in the melee.

I value: the ability to see and appreciate the importance of multiple sides of the same story (compassion, empathy, respect?), passion (dedication?), curiosity (intelligence?), communications (thoughtful analysis?) and my own special brand of integrity (making your best effort, willingness to accept consequences, being (at the *very* least) honest with yourself?). My organization values: honor, respect and devotion to duty...or at least those are the core values. I suspect their  actual application can be interpreted differently, depending on who is doing the evaluation. But close enough. I think there's enough common ground that I'm not doomed to continual strife over misaligned values... though the devil always *is* in the details.

Funny how this post started out as one thing, but became about something quite different, but way more important to me. Screw "what it takes." I'm much better off spending my time, energy, effort living up to my own values.

The Final Countdown

I start work on Monday. My family and friends are sick of hearing me worry and fret and stress and ponder and otherwise over-analyze this new adventure. Or maybe it's that I'm sick of hearing myself do all those things. Six weeks of leave might have been too much time off, though I have to admit I've gotten *a lot* done.

So here's a little of what I've been doing before I go on whining about Monday.

--My kitchen is finally, well, not done, but a lot closer. It still needs to be painted. And cabinet handles and drawer knobs put on. But, BUT, there are no more gaping, floor to ceiling holes in the wall and the ceiling is not dropping little bits of plaster into my food and dishes anymore. It looks *amazing!* So for paint, I'm thinking a nice jewel-tone blue-violet? I might try green to match the curtains, but somehow that doesn't feel right. And, these pictures really don't do it justice.

--The windows in the house are (almost) all refurbished. Now they (almost) all have storm windows and screens and all the weights work so the windows stay up by themselves. I say almost because the guys weren't able to finish the last two in the master bedroom. They've got to come back. Drat!

--The crawl space waterproofing crew is scheduled to come out later in the month, after the termite treatment is done. Josh, from My Organic Garden, is coming out for an assessment next weekend. I'm hoping he'll sign on to help me with the garden this summer, figuring I'm not going to have an abundance of time to do it myself...never mind that I've got something of a brown thumb.

--And hopefully by the end of the day, the house will be clean, too. I'm waiting until the weatherproofing crew is done with some left over punch list items before I start on cleanups. Or is that just my excuse to be lazy and sit on the couch for a little longer? Kinda hard to tell.

---I went into Headquarters and took care of some initial admin stuff: getting my ID badge and parking pass, and getting my computer account transfer started. Hopefully that will make things go a little more smoothly on Monday.

And so I find myself back to talking about Monday. Anticipation is a bitch sometimes. I mean, sometimes it's fun...like looking forward to a first date with a cool guy or getting on an airplane to Hawaii for a month or breakfast after the 4-8s. Those are all nice anticipations. This one, however, has slightly more trepidation mixed in. 

I'm nervous. There, I said it, out loud, to god knows who. All of my friends I've said it to have been very kind and reassuring, that I'll do fine, that I'll settle in and end up kicking ass. Sure, that's how I'm hoping it comes out. But the not knowing what it's going to be like leaves so much room for my imagination to dream up all *kinds* of ways that I'm going to screw up...uniform malfunctions, etiquette and honors blunders, communication missteps, judgment errors (probably the scariest of all), social awkwardness, protocol ignorance, lack of basic knowledge...or even lack of the right knowledge at the right time...god, the list is endless.

I think I've finally convinced myself of my basic philosophy of treating everyone with respect, not being blinded and intimidated by a profusion of gold bands or bars and not passing personal judgment in a professional setting. I was going to add, "thinking before I speak," but I know that's probably (definitely) my stretch goal. It's something to strive for though, for certain :)

So that's what I'll spend my weekend pondering...trying to set those guidelines firmly in my head. And not tweaking too badly on all the rest.

GO GIANTS! But only because I don't want the Pats to win. I actually am still holding a grudge against Eli Manning for dissing San Diego in the draft. But anyone's better than seeing New England as the champions (see Frank...I'm overly predictable too).

Old Dog, New Tricks

Two off topics notes first:
1. So much for trying to meet my goal of at least one blog post per week. Will have to keep trying.
2. Frank -- no comments on the title of this post. I'm *serious*! I mean it!!

So there's that saying, can't teach an old dog new tricks. And after the last ten days spent in the Lake Tahoe area trying to learn how to snowboard, I'm on the verge of agreeing. But only on the verge...not totally convinced.

My dad taught me to ski when I was about seven. I'm pretty sure he lived in Massachusetts by then, and my sister and I would go to visit him on holidays and during the summer. That first year we went, my sister was off visiting a friend of hers in the area, so Dad and my brother, Jay, went off to the ski slopes. Jay took off to enjoy himself on the slopes, having been skiing many times before. And Dad patiently spent the time corralling me down the slopes, teaching me to snow-plow and then to turn, and finally to race down the run as fast as humanly possible. Being seven, with the kid-innate lack of fear of hurting myself, I picked it up pretty quickly, though I do remember a couple of fairly spectacular falls.

My sister joined us on the slopes the next year and was *disgusted* with me that I already knew what I was doing, and she was stuck on the bunny slope. She hasn't been back to ski since.

About six years ago, I really came to appreciate the skills my dad had instilled in me at such a young age. I went skiing for the first time in probably more than five years, and it was just like riding a bike...I pretty much remembered what I was doing. I mean, the first few runs down the mountain weren't exactly graceful, but I got to the bottom without severe bodily damage and once the rust was knocked off, really enjoyed myself. I've tried to go skiing at least once a year for the past while.

This year, though, I decided to try snowboarding. And I'm not sure why. My frie-bors (friends + neighbors, remember?), Molly and Billy have gone to Tahoe for the last three years, and over the summer, I kinda invited myself along with them. They snowboard, though, and offered to let me borrow their daughter's gear. It all fit, so I said, sure, why not? I'll try it.

I took a lesson the first day, from a very nice guy named Bill at Alpine Meadow (free lift tickets for active duty military). So glad I did. He set me up with my left foot forward. I took a couple of spills during that two hours, but felt like I was on my way to picking it up okay. Over the course of the next couple of days, I took more than a few spills...some of them so spectacular as to be named "yard sales." Ya know, like where my goggles, gloves, board and anything else that can come flying off, end up displayed across the slope like at a yard sale. Ugh, and don't be fooled...that shit *HURTS!!* I'm still not sitting down on a chair properly.

About day three, after ending up going down the hill right foot forward more often than not, Billy changed the bindings on my board so my right foot was forward. It was a little awkward the first run or two down the hill once he switched it, but it quickly became more comfortable. I took another lesson on day four from Phillip at Mt Rose (who I hope does join the CG when this season is over, because I think he'd make a wonderful addition to *any* crew. Smart, enthusiastic, a great teacher...all the things we need in our ranks.).  Again, it was useful and I picked up some good tips from him.

I think a couple of things may have made a difference in my comfort level with this new trick though. First, better conditions on the mountain would have meant easier falls and less ice...both of which completely intimidated me after the first day. Unfortunately, we scheduled our trip during Tahoe's worst snow season, like, maybe *ever!* We were on all man-made snow. It started snowing today...two days after we left. Mr Murphy, sir -- so *NOT* funny!

Second, the bindings should have been moved a bit further apart on my board. Both Bill and Phillip impressed upon me the importance of being low and flexible in the knees to make turns successfully (and without those intensely painful abrupt stops). Phillip pointed out that my feet were pretty close together on my board, which meant that I had to work harder to use the board's flexibility to turn and was less stable than if my feet were further apart. I kinda laughed at this a little, after thinking of how many times I reminded guys during crew law enforcement training (especially handcuffing) to have a deep, wide stance to ensure their stability. My favorite learning technique was to walk up alongside them if they were just bending over (instead of squatting with their knees), and gently shove their hip a little to knock them off balance. Made 'em cuss every time.

Third, crash pads. I can't overemphasize the importance of PPE enough. I was extremely grateful for my helmet and goggles. But I really should have gone the extra step, and gotten the crash pads for my backside. Would have saved a *lot* of pain and whining. Next year.

Which makes me wonder, am I seriously gonna try snowboarding again next year? or am I gonna wimp out and go back to skiing? And why? For godsakes, why? I suck at it, which means that there are a lot of crash landings that really hurt. Laughing at myself when my body doesn't respond like my brain says it should only goes so far to assuage the bruised ass, elbows, knees and yes, face...never mind my ego. So why, on god's green earth, would I try it again?

One friend said it's "bc u r n explorer. duh. u have to keep pushing urself; each day try to improve. hard work n determination. (song lyrics...)" (obviously we were texting). Not sure how true that is.

Maybe it's peer pressure. Snowboarders *look* cool. If I snowboard, that means I'm cool too.

Maybe it's 'cause I'm cheap. Free loaned snowboarding gear (even if I don't know how to use it) is better than rented skis.

Maybe, like most things, it's a combination of all those things. Does it count as a commitment to "lifelong learning?"

By the by, and regardless of all the falls, I had a *great!!* time hanging out with Molly and Billy, and Eddie and Lucas, and Jan, Hana, Avis and Dawn. What an awesome group of people to get to hang out with!

But I Don't *Wanna* Go

No, I’m not talking about going to the dentist or to school, but yes, I am whining like a five-year-old. I don’t *wanna* leave Hawaii [emphatic foot stomp!]!

Somehow, though, an entire month has flown by, and my departure looms ahead, just tomorrow. I’ve been trying really hard not to think about leaving. The couple times I’ve slipped, I’ve found myself tearing up and can only stop from breaking out in sobs by telling myself that I will NOT ruin what time I have left here being sad about leaving.

I’ve gone away before. This time is different, though. For the first time in the almost ten years that I’ve been on-again, off-again living in Hawaii, I don’t know when I’m coming back. I don’t have any trip scheduled on the horizon, tantalizing me with comforting trade winds and crystal clear water, good friends and a warm welcome home. I know I’ll be back…I just don’t know when, or where I’ll stay.

My house is going up for rent, hopefully to wonderful people who will enjoy the special beauty of this place. But I won’t be able to stay here like I normally would. My gracious neighbors and friends have generously offered the hospitality of their own homes for my future visits, nearly threatening me with bodily harm if I dare to stay in a hotel or vacation rental. 

I've spent a lot of time thinking about how to get stationed back out here. When are the NSCs planned to get homeported in Honolulu? (yes, I know the realistic answer to that...not soon enough) Am I willing to forego an afloat tour just to be stationed back here? (yes, I know the realistic answer to that too...probably not; but maybe, if an afloat career is no longer a viable option, then yes, abso-freakin-lutely!) So I know I'm making my own choices, but knowing that doesn't make the choices any easier.

I think I handled this whole month pretty well though, really through no conscious planning or intuitive understanding of the situation on my part…better to be lucky than good, sometimes. I took my time with packing stuff up, never really stressing or wearing myself out on any one day to get stuff done. Yes, there were a few days where chores delayed my departure for the beach, but it usually rained those afternoons anyway. I could have waited another coupla days to put the big furniture I was leaving behind on Craigslist. But I had no way of knowing that it would only take 15 minutes for people to snap up two couches and two full-sized mattress sets. I should have looked for the title to the car when I first got here, rather than waiting so long that my sister had to spend $45 (!!!) to overnight it to me so I could take it to the DMV to get Mom’s name off to simplify the sale. And the yard free-for-all (instead of a yard sale) was a fabulous way to share memories of Mom with the neighborhood and friends (and get rid of a bunch of *stuff* that was still useful…to someone *else!*).

But on the whole, I had plenty of time to soak my lazy bones in sun-drenched sand and salt water, to meet new friends (even a really great guy who I wish I could have hung out with more…should have called him before Christmas instead of waiting for the day before New Year’s Eve, Silly Girl), to eat wonderful food – omg, the poke at B’s Bar & Grinds…*insane!*, to run and workout on a regular basis, and to share time with friends and neighbors without feeling like I was imposing on them or being left out of any of the fun.

And it’s not like the fun is completely over, either. I’m headed to Lake Tahoe for a week of skiing and snow-boarding (if it every starts to snow there!) with Molly and Billy, frie-bors (friends + neighbors?) from the 'hood. And then to my sister’s for a few days. And then to my Dad’s, meeting my sister there for Dad’s 70th birthday. The party will go on.

But tonight, I’ll go to Haleiwa Joe’s for Aloha Hour, to eat and drink and be merry one last night with the neighbors and friends that I’ve come to love dearly over the past five years before I head to the airport tomorrow. And in the morning, I’ll take the handful of dried leis left by well-loved guests down to Kaiaka Beach Park, and toss them into the ocean. I hope they, each and every one of them, find their return way to shore, so they can guide my path quickly back to this place that feels more like home than anywhere else I’ve been.

Happy New Year, version 2012

Well, another year down and gone.

There was a block party on the street for New Year's Eve. Uncle Francis, at the end of our street, and Uncle Jack conspired to put a pig in the imu in Francis' yard. They enlisted the help of the neighborhood boys and got the fire going early on Saturday morning. I wasn't awake for that part, so I didn't get any pictures. But I made sure I was on hand for when the pigs came out of the ground.

Uncovering the pit

Off came the coverings first. Then the banana leaves. Then the boys hoisted the pig in its chicken wire cage out onto a near-by table. It was still wrapped with banana and ti leaves, with some hot rocks in the belly cavity.

Ed and Jason and a one-handed Billy (he's got his wrist in a cast) helped with unearthing and prepping the goods. They slid the pig from the chicken wire mesh into a big metal tray. Francis' son added some salt, and then they pulled out all the bones, mostly by grabbing a bone in each hand and digging through the meat to free the other bones.

The meat all went into a new galvanized trash can and then up to Jack's lanai for the meal. Ka'amo'oloa pot lucks are amazing feasts! We have some great cooks on the block and half the fun (ok, well maybe a quarter of the fun...'cause there's *lots* of fun at these things) is finding out who brought what dish. Needless to say, I ate too much. I don't remember what everybody brought, but here are a few highlights:

Molly made an amazing Thai hot sauce for the pork. I think it had cilantro, chilis, garlic, fish sauce, lime, and maybe something else. But it was *hot* and so tasty!

Getting to the good stuff

Laura made scalloped potatoes, Gretchen brought a yummy salad. There were pasta dishes, and soba noodles, mashed potatoes, pies, cookies, chips and so many other goodies.

Ed's sister Jen made fresh Fijian awa. While awa is not the best tasting beverage, it's wonderfully mellow, and I enjoyed a few cups of it.

I made Estate Bread Pudding. Ok, really, I just took all the stuff from the fridge and the freezer that I didn't know what to do with, and stirred it all up. Raisins soaked in rum and a little triple sec, macadamia nuts, pecans, a few cashews, hotdog and hamburger buns left over from Mom's memorial bbq, a airplane size whiskey...all soaked in milk, eggs and butter. I used up so many odds and ends. And the best part was that the end product was even edible!

Dinner!

 The gathering wasn't just about the food though. Liam drew out a handball court on the street and the kids (mostly the grown-up kids!) played a few sets of doubles games. Then Jason and Liam went head-to-head in a death match. I don't remember who won :)

Shutting down the street for a game of handball

After the food was all eaten, or at least appetites were somewhat satiated, Laura busted out a case of poprocks. She gave out individual boxes to all the kids and they spent the next 15 minutes slamming the little balls of paper to the ground. It made a wonderful racket. And then the kids spent the next half hour wandering around, looking for the stray rocks that hadn't popped on the first round.

There were bike races, with Molly on a mini kid's bike, and Punky on a grown up bike; dance practice for the kids; and a continuous display of fireworks from the surrounding neighborhoods.

Uncle Jack and Uncle Francis -- masterminds of fun

 The awa took its toll on me, though, and I headed home (pathetically) early. That doesn't mean I got to sleep though...those neighborhood fireworks were loud enough that I knew almost to the second when the clock struck midnight. I opened up the bottom window above my bed, and was able to look out and see a pretty impressive show of starbursts and colorful rockets.

The feasting tables - Jay, his son, and Molly

I figured on a quiet New Year's Day and went for an early run. Then about mid-day a  friend texted me to see if I wanted to go out on his boat with him. My response: "A boat ride?!? What kind of sailor could I call myself if I turned down an offer like that?"

Auntie Tonya and Uncle Francis...love Francis' hat!!

I was a little surprised at how excited I was at the prospect of getting out on the water. I mean, I do this for a living, right? What's so special about going for a boat ride? But, BUT, I haven't been on a boat for more than a year and a half, and I guess the separation was more deeply felt than I realized. I was out of the house, headed for Hawaii Kai within about ten minutes.

Scott has a 20 foot, aluminum hulled boat pulled up by his condo in Hawaii Kai. We got the cooler in the boat and headed out. It was a beautiful day, kona winds, not much of a swell. I'd never spent much time in that area of the island and wonder why now, because it is so pretty.

We went out around China Walls and it got a little choppy. I brought a bag of pretzels with me, ya know, just in case I started feeling seasick. Scott kept asking me if I was feeling okay. I was feeling *great*! There was just enough of a chop to be a little bumpy and throw a little spray. We saw a couple of whales and a bunch of dolphins. When we headed back to calmer waters, I jumped it to look around at the coral and reef. It was an unexpected and delightful surprise to get to spend my New Year's Day out on the water.

So here's to a brand new year. May it bring you fullness, happiness and all the fun you can stand. If  it keeps going like it started, I think it's going to be a fantastic ride!

On the Appearance of Being Bah-Humbug-ish

I swear it's not me being a big ol' bag of bah-humbug this year. I've never been particularly good about Christmas shopping, always delaying until the last minute, and then floundering with finding good gifts for friends and family. I've had a few good moments of inspiration, when I was able to come up with blindingly fantastic gifts (or at least, I thought they were) that everyone seemed to enjoy. A lot of them had to do with being poor. One year, when I lived on a farm, I made gift bags of goodies from stuff I had grown in the garden...ropes of dried peppers, homemade relish and jam, canned strawberries and syrup. I made rag rugs one year, from the drapes that used to hang in my paternal grandparents' home.

And one year, I came up with the "Treasury of Thoughts." It was sometime in the late 1990's and I found a thrift-store glass dish with four partitioned sections. I picked up some little natural trinkets (seed pods, cool pebbles, sea shells) and placed them in each of the four sections. The accompanying card explained the idea:

"I've given you a Treasury of Thought this year. Each item in the dish represents an individual thought or action. The start-up items in the dish now are labelled as some things I think are good thoughts, actions and/or memories.

My  idea for the Treasury of Thoughts is that, as you go through the day, when you have a good thought or do something you're proud of (but that isn't great and grand enough to tell the world about) you can move a "thought" from one compartment to another to personally commemorate that good thing.

This shouldn't be a static collection of "thoughts" though. You can pick up your own things to put in it, or ask friends to collect small things for you throughout their travels.

There are a few guidelines for the Treasury:

1.  No "thoughts" can be purchased ones; they all need to be found, free.
2. Don't keep track of what thought you put in what compartment, or in moving particular ones to particular places.
3. Put it somewhere you'll see it at least once a day (preferably more), but that's out of the way of the four-footed furry feline.

I hope all this isn't too goofy, and I wish you lots of prosperity in your Treasury."

It was definitely cheesy, but it was cheap and thoughtful, and my mom kept hers for the rest of her life. Today, I think the best thing about it is that I can cheerfully drop all the thought trinkets in the yard, put the dish in the thrift store pile and compost the card...because the Treasury already served its purpose.

Then there were the years, though, that I just flopped. So sorry, family, for those ridiculous salt cooking blocks a coupla years ago. I don't think anyone has used them yet. Or the fugly swirly pink pastel pottery bowl that I found tucked away in my mom's cupboard. I think the pattern of giving useless crap started when I was very young. For probably the last ten years of my mom's parents' life, I gave my grandmother pretty soaps. They piled up in a basket on the bookshelf in her nursing home room, never used, gathering dust and diffusing their floral scents heavily into the air. But I had to give them *something.* Or so I thought.

This year in particular though, I'm just tired of stuff. I don't want to give people crap. I think it has a lot to do with cleaning out my mom's house and getting it ready to rent. I sent my sister a frantic email earlier in the week.  "Can we set up a time to call, and go through stuff? I don't know the provenance of a lot of this stuff and I feel like I'm gonna pitch out the family heirlooms if I try to do it by myself. I found some t-shirts that I made at the Early Learning Center [where I went to *pre-school!!*] (hideous, but just the kind of stuff mom would keep). And some beautiful aprons that look handmade. Sorry I've got such a horrible memory...wish I could do this on my own..." She responded sensibly and with just the kind of practical advice I needed to move past feeling overwhelmed.

Part of my frustration is that Mom had some lovely stuff that meant a lot to her. But I've already got a house full of stuff. My sister already has a house full of stuff. We already decided which pieces of furniture are going to whom. And luckily, I have the space to store stuff at my house in Maryland that does not have an immediate destination. But the other stuff...what to do with the blankets stored in the cedar-lined blanket chest that I remember piled on the bed as a kid? or the pots and pans Mom cooked with for the last 50 years? or the art that she had hanging on the wall from when I was eight, and her granddaughter was four? or that damned fugly pink swirly pastel pottery dish (actually, that one's easy...it's going to the thrift store! But you get the idea)?

Maybe cleaning out the house at Christmas-time wasn't the best idea. I kinda feel like I'm using it as an excuse for being too lazy to give any Christmas gifts this year. The reality is, though, that I'm over *stuff* for the sake of *stuff.* If I find myself inspired by something I see for someone, or have a great idea for making something, or a gift certificate that won't languish unused in the back of someone's junk drawer, I will GLADLY bestow presents on my friends and family. You may find yourself getting your Christmas present in August, though, because when I find something I think you'll like, I don't want to *wait* to give it to you...where's the fun in that?!

Unfortunately this year, I'm just not feeling inspired. My one inspiration is to sponsor any family (Amy, that means you and Ally, too) member that wants to join the Gravy, Wine & Steve team for the Greensboro Rugged Maniac race. It's sometime in April this year. Uncle Heathen and Aunt JB, you're getting race slots whether you want them or not...you're the backbone of the team. Cameron, are you in? Jay, Alex? Does it fit with your schedule?

See, I'd *WAY* rather give stuff like this!

A Molehill of Meant-Tos

I meant to write a post long before now, maybe one about my family extravaganza Thanksgiving weekend.
I meant to post on Fleet Feet Roanoke's Facebook page about how awesome my new running shoes and pants were to wear during the Hot Chocolate 15k race. My cousins, Robin and Jane, and Robin's husband Blaine were so helpful!
I meant to get more done around the house before I left for nearly six weeks.
I meant to coordinate the work that was done better, so that I didn't have the snafus that happened. Like not being able to install the vapor barrier in the crawl space because it was too wet, and having to reschedule the tilers because the other renovators weren't done in the kitchen yet.
I meant to make some more revisions to my group's Negotiating Conflict workbook before turning it in.
I meant to finish reading Don Kettl's book, The Next Government of the United States, before the last day of class.
I meant to run more than I did...but found myself profoundly lacking in motivation when the temperature dropped below 50 degrees.
I meant to do some amount of Christmas shopping.
I even meant to make some preparations for coming out to Hawaii, like calling movers for quotes and making an appointment with a property manager.

But none of that happened. And the world didn't come to an end. I did manage to get all my papers done, projects turned in and the house cleaned before I left. Some days that's enough.