Perfect Proposal Pancakes

It was 5:33 am - just two minutes before my alarm had been set to go off.   I found myself awake, groggy, not knowing what was going on, thinking Matt was headed back to bed after using the bathroom.  Something about his entering the room woke me up.  It wasn't until much later that his coming back to bed from that direction didn't make sense since we have a master bath and he was coming from the living room. 

Everything was dark except for the small sliver of light coming through the door from the hallway.  There was a smell - familiar, yet elusive so early  and unexpectedly in the morning.  Despite my groaning for just a few more minutes, Matt announced that it was time to wake up because he had made me a pancake breakfast.  A pancake breakfast in bed? I was all for this new treat!  Still moving slowly, Matt coaxed me to put on my glasses (I think I dropped them twice during this process), sit up in bed and focus my eyes.  He actually made quite sure I did all of these things before he pulled the chain on my lamp.  When I was finally able to open my eyes without a wicked squint, he placed the plate of pancakes in front of me on the bed.  In skinny, crispy, burnt little pancake letters, he spelled out "Marry me?" By the time I caught my breath and knew what was happening, he was on one knee and holding out a ring!  I didn't realize it until I tried to speak that I was crying already.  It has only been 36 hours and it's all a blur to me.  The excitement, the fact that it was first thing in the morning, my blinding happiness.... all factor into that blurry, fuzzy, shaky feeling I still have in my chest.  

It was so cute, so heartfelt, so us.  I love his proposal.  I love him.  I'm going to love being his wife. 

50 Years of Marriage Celebrated

Morning prep = garden picking.

   

The "plums."

The talented caterer.

The girl who loved boys.  

On their way to fifty - 27 years down!

The man and woman of the hour.

Just taking a breather after the event. 

Baseball and Balloons

We spent part of our weekend in Saint Louis with the family, and included trips to Busch Stadium for the Cardinals/Cubs game and to Forest Park for our annual Balloon Race picnic.  We made it back by Saturday night in order to spend Sunday "catching up."  Swell weekend.  

    

Matt and Olivia - Sleepy morning fun.  

            

Two sets of sisters :)

        

We love the Forest Park Balloon Races.

Holy Hill

                                               

I spent the whole summer spinning.  The. Whole. Summer.  For the majority of my work hiatus, I was also able to sprinkle in elliptical/treadmill run workouts on my "off" days.  Add in Body Pump class from time to time and maybe one or two Pilates videos at home.  None of this even remotely prepared me for today's Labor Day 5K.  

Put on by Creve Coeur's Jewish Community Center, it was the hilliest course I have ever seen.  Halfway through the race, I started planning this blog post.  I knew my chance at a respectable time was long lost, and was thinking of anything that would keep my mind off of my burning lungs.  During this blog thought storm, I planned to air all of my grievances about the race starting with whichever evil mastermind concocted the race blueprint.  If I could get him/her in a room alone you can bet that I'd give them a strongly worded, fist-poundin', finger-pointin' talking to.  

The course did give me a tour of parts of the Creve Coeur community that I'd never had the chance to see - mostly of its high-priced condominium/retirement villas.  They were beautifully nestled in what seems to be an area that only a topographer would enjoy.  I had visions of snow covered mornings and residents sliding down these monsters.   And now as I reflect, I recall seeing a number of automobiles with four-wheel drive capabilities...

A strong hill can thwart any best laid plans to keep a positive attitude and it was all I could do to walk some of these.  Feeling ashamed and looking for a scapegoat, I noticed that many of the runners around me would do the same - run down, walk up.  The thing is, there weren't as many downs as there were ups.  I don't even understand how that's possible (only an evil mastermind would know), but it happened.  You would run or trudge or ooze your way to the top of a hill thinking, rightfully so, about how sweet the downward slope was going to be, only to find yourself directed to turn at the cross street which was again sloping upward!  I'm not even sure what my elevation was at the end of the race.  Fourteen steep hills above where I started.  I do know that. 

                                            

Griping and feelings of failure aside, I had a good time.  Matt, Dad, Audrey and Claire also ran the race and were waiting for me by the time I made it to the end.  Mom and Olivia were there as our cheerleader/media squad.  Today marked Matt and Claire's debut at the race scene and I hope they had as much fun as I had at my first race.  I was only fifteen - just two years older than Claire is now.  The atmosphere was dewey silence.  I was surrounded by animal-like athletes who were two, three, four times my age.  Jack Farkenstein, the 70 year old seasoned racer was there - never lifting his feet more than two or three inches off the ground.   I was shocked to see him again today.  These days I'm not sure his feet do much more than scrape the pavement, but 11 years later he still shuffles in - sometimes before the last place runner - to a round of applause by those who know his history.  

Matt has already talked about his running goals for the near and far future.  I think the bug got him and I'm glad.  I don't know if it was the long line of tables with bananas, bagels and vitamin water that got him, or if it was the complimentary soft tissue work done by the Logan Chiropractic Firm that did the trick.  Either way he's hooked.  I have lost my addiction to these races and it will be good to have just one more reason to hit the pavement once more.                                                                             

Glass Half Empty - Amendments

My attitude about the beginning of the year has somewhat shifted since yesterday's post.  I will still continue to work on it, but it should be noted that I already read yesterday's writing with a bit of regret.  

I met my fresh crop of malleable brains today.  While I'm exhausted, I am pleased to say that day one went well.  My block classes are large but funny, and as we work on community building I can see that we are going to have a good year.  I hold hope for my single section and will continue to keep my fingers crossed that we'll have a better year than last year's seventh hour.  We shall see.  

There are a couple of reasons for my snark cloud lifting.  

First, I am always crabby when I'm anxious and yesterday, anxious I was.  Now that I've worked my way through that first day, the knot in my chest has loosened a bit.  

Second, I work with darn good people - better people than I, for they approached this morning with a lot more gusto than I had in me.  One of those people is my fantastic and incredibly dedicated teaching partner.  Without his instant injection of enthusiasm and genuine excitement to meet these 140 or so young people I would simply stew in my own puddle of doubt.  Thanks to him, I am instantly more enthused and ready to let go and join in the fun.   

This week is my favorite week of teaching because of the endless possibilities that each school year holds.  We have no bad habits, because habits have not yet been formed. We have no animosity, because we are all new to this game.  We talk about learning and throw around all of the idealist philosophy we've got.  And then we try.  And each year seems to get a little better.  A little more successful.  No matter what, I believe that there will be no backslide - at least not on my part.   We asked our students today what motivates them.  My answer was previous success.  Well, today was a success so I'll head toward HHS tomorrow with a little bit less of a chip on my shoulder.