
Occasionally, the lame ducks don't just avoid homicide charges. They make good.
And no one, contributes exactly like he does.
For example, Danny and his Dad (Jeff, a good friend) came to help dig me out from under Snowmageddon a few months ago. Jeff's enormous snow blower broke through, but Danny's wild "WOOOOO, yeeaaahhhh!!" shoveling kept us far out ahead of any thought of stopping. I mean, who could quit on that? That boy has some lungs, muscles, and a huge heart. He knew my Mom needed rescuing and wouldn't let us stop until I could back down the driveway. He also wanted to show off his upper-body strength. Did he, ever.
Last week he knocked on my door on prom night....showing off his look, as suave as could be, swinging his fancy cane, and excited for the night of dancing with his date and friends. He blushed when I kissed him, but didn't hesitate to smack me back. A few nights later he was off to another year-end school formal, looking just as debonair.....but his graduation party in a few weeks should be 'island casual'. It's MUCH easier to dance, in cargo shorts and funky sneakers.
Now the other thing, was the Idler experiment. You know, because a few of you've been asking how the "nap-read-eat-read-read-nap..." plan has gone. It sounded great back in January but right after that, I started working lots of part-time hours, and endlessly shoveling snow. So I didn't truly try idleing until last week. And I can tell you, I took it too far. So.....
Daughter: Happy Retirement Day One, Dad. How was it?
Dad: Aw, thanks honey. It was busy...first your Mother and I had breakfast together. You know, that great breakfast casserole she makes when we have company. Except this time she used Canadian bacon instead of sausage. I think she usually uses Bob Evans sausage but maybe she didn't have the coupon for that. But anyway, it was SO good. So good. I had to have two plates because I haven't had a breakfast like that on a weekday for so long. Wow, I better take a good long walk tomorrow. Maybe I'll just drive down to the Trail since it's nice and flat. This neighborhood is SO hilly, you know. Which is probably what I need but I'm not so sure about my knees anymore. Anyway, after breakfast I.......
Daughter, 37 minutes later: Dad, I'm glad lunch was so good, too. I hate to stop but I have an early day tomorrow. Can I call you then? Love you.
Dad: Wha? Oh, yes! Of course. I forgot you're my corporate girl. Which reminds me......
So what's this got to do with the weather?
This morning when I woke up I expected to hear horrific hail, and to see that my neighbors' minivan had landed in my driveway. And I'd planned all sorts of indoor projects because MY LOCAL WEATHERMAN SAID IT WOULD BE CLOUDY AND STORMY, ALL DAY. The perfect day, for indoor things. So instead, I woke to the kind of partly sunny skies and brittle breeze that make me antsy, and more likely to take a roadtrip, or transplant large shrubbery....anything outdoors. Which is exactly what I did. I'm sure it was cloudy and stormy all day someplace in southwestern Pennsylvania. It just wasn't anywhere near me.
That's when I imagined that this Dad curse, could make me the most reliable and helpful weather girl anyone has ever seen. Because I could tell folks......I am not making that up. Those are the normal, printable parts from the last few nights. The rest.....
See why I wake up tired sometimes?
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Wait. You say missed it? "Snow-pocalypse"? I'm really happy for you if you did. Honestly. Because right now I feel like starting a snowball fight with the snowplow man who has single-handedly built and rebuilt Mt. Dover (my street's name) at the end of my driveway, for almost 2 weeks now. I'm not mad at him - he's doing a really GREAT job of clearing everything else - just very, very sore. I should stop shoveling, hide my dogs' toys inside Mt. Dover, and let them dig right through just as they're doing in the back yard.....after they've returned from scaling the fence because the snow is so high.
But that's a different story. This, is about my Mom.
She is a trouper. This shouldn't surprise me because her Dad was a warm and strong Irish steelworker, and her Mom a gutsy, beautiful Ukranian...and ahead of her time. My Grandma was born in 1910, worked in a candy factory after high school, and moved to Washington D.C. at 19 to work as an administrator in a government agency. My Mom's extended family all seemed to have similar stories - nothing seemed to phase them. As my Grandpa used to say...."everyone's got to eat a peck of dirt before they die". And so they did.
So why did I worry so much when the recent storm zapped her home's power? Even though she managed all that? Even though I knew we'd "rescue" her and bring her to one of our homes?
Well, I didn't worry because she's faint-hearted, literally or figuratively. My Mom may look like a merry Irish elf, but she has a physical and emotional stamina that I hope I've inherited. She still manages the home and property we all moved to 38 years ago, volunteers with her parish and works all of their festivals, meets friends and relatives for monthly breakfasts and roadtrips, and flies to visit the high-school friends she's still very close to. And she does Zumba - which I haven't - she does yoga - which I haven't - and she does aerobics - which I've sworn off since a regrettable step-class incident a few years ago (that, is another story).
My Mom hasn't lost any of the ladylike gusto with which she has always approached her life. So maybe I worried because she has lost so much else, including my Dad three years ago. But she probably wouldn't see it that way. She'd say she's gained the enormous benefits of the experiences and relationships, not lost them.
Best Part #1: The staff.
I'll save detailed staff descriptions for another time but for now, I'll just say that Kevin (the owner) and his three full-time 20-something associate 'dudes', are in love with all things running, and are especially passionate about - and excellent at - teaching people and helping them fulfill their running and wellness goals. They know as much about shoes, equipment, biomechanics, and injury prevention and treatment as some licensed therapists I know. They're all smart, quick-witted, slightly nuts, and just ooze a genuine lovin' life vibe. They're also some of the nicest souls I've met. I love the fact that each of these guys own more shoes than I've had in a lifetime, they run in shorts in 23 degrees, that they don't blink at the size of my appetite, they like when their beards freeze, and that the 'dudes' think I'm only maybe, ten years older than they are. Don't ask me why they're apparently delusional about women's ages. Juuuuust let'em think, what they think.
Best Part #2: The shoes. Or actually, the shoe education.
Shoes, shoe components, and the nuanced differences between Brooks, vs. Adidas, vs. Asics, vs. all the others. Who knew such precise adjustments to flex grooves and hydroflo insets and patented foams and rubbers and all the other things, would result in such performance differences for people. It's fascinating. OK, I'm a geek. Apparel can be tricky, too. I thought I knew running, until I started this job. Now I realize I only know anatomy and muscle physiology and biomechanics, and enough about training to be respectable....but almost nothing about all the rest of it. Which is a lot. I'd really like my work hours to count as credits towards my upcoming graduate degree. I mean, Kevin gives TESTS! I have the basics down now, but have a 10-K's worth of "insider" info to learn still. So, bear with me if I agree with you - for just a sec - that the best reason to buy that pair of Asics is because they make your feet look cute. Or fast.
Best Part #3: The customers.
Ho-hum, la-de-da, typical list stuff so far, you're thinking. But as educational as the store's merchandise is - at least for me - the store's customers are even more so. I didn't make up the 'make my feet look cute' comment. A woman last weekend - let's call her a "cougar" - spent approximately 68 minutes trying on everything but the shoe we wanted her to try, because all the others made her feet look more cute or matched her CAR, and there was just no way she needed an 8 1/2 in any shoe because she'd never worn an 8/12 in anything before in her life. I am sure she has a weekly mani-pedi, and may be in denial about one or two things other than her foot size. If that sounds like a complaint, I didn't mean it to be. She was a challenge but ultimately a good sport, and the source of endless good-hearted entertainment for us long after she left (with the right pair of 8 1/2 shoes!).
Like her, everyone visiting the store, is a story. This may sound cliche, but the staff really tries hard to unearth each one, and respect the story they find. Even the cougar's, especially hers. And apart from her, almost everyone visiting the store is in an open, exploratory, full-of-hope state of mind. It's refreshing. So far I've met octogenarians who still tear up their treadmills, women with tremendous weight-loss stories, people bouncing back from life-saving surgeries, folks of all ages who are training for their first races, experienced ultramarathoners, high school athletes of all abilities....and it's only been three weeks! Who will walk through the door next, is anyone's guess. That's part of the learning, and a big part of the "how cool is this!" factor.
So, I'm heading off to see if this is the day that Mario, or Marc-Andre, or my Mom, will finally walk through the store door.
And, let me give their feet a little above-the-board lovin'.
*Not their real online dating names. Or....are they?