a bicycle built for two

is it possible to forget...

forget how to love?

sometimes I think I may have forgotten how to be vulnerable 

and take chances.  

sometimes I'm afraid I have forgotten how it feels to have a conversation that you never want to end, 

a moment that you can't turn away from.

sometimes I'm certain I don't know how to be selfless enough to be in a relationship, 

compassionate enough to listen 

patient enough to wait.  

and then sometimes, I think....

it MUST be like riding a bike.  

I hope it's like riding a bike,

 you never forget.  

I hope one day I will hop on and start peddling, knowing full well that there may be fear, and it may be shaky but if I just keep on peddling, it will straighten out and I can start coasting and enjoying the ride.  

overgrown emotion

Wow, today was a doozie.
Today I had a major break down..you know, those kind where you cry and sob so hard that you're taken back to those days when you were five when you cried so hard that you couldn't catch your breath.  That was me, today.

I live in the house my grandpa built back in 1950, it's on an acre of property and I love it.  The Red House, as we like to call it, has already been the  center of many fun days, evenings, weekends.  I have a vision for what it is meant to be and how I want things to be, including the acreage.  It all has a purpose in my head.  The dilemma, the reason for the complete meltdown?  I can't do it by myself.

I work a full time job, plus some.  I commute an hour to work, and an hour home.  So that leaves, really, my days off to get anything done around the house.  Well, for the past, oh, I dunno, 3 weeks, I have been trying to break down and put away the swimming pool that we set up for summer.  I don't know if you've done that before but it's a lot more complicated than I realized.  First, I poured in some bleach then while the water is still in it, I scrubbed out the bottom and sides.  Then, you drain the water, or most of it..the rest I had to sweep out and manipulate over the sides manually.  All of this has happened on different days in different steps, based on when I have gotten home from work while it was still light out and NOT raining.  So this week I'm faced with the fact that we're probably in our last sunny days of the year and I'm desperately trying to figure out how I'm going to get all the water out of this 18 ft wide, 4ft deep pool and then get it dry so I can roll it up and store it and NOT have it all moldy next summer when we unpack it.  On top of that, my dad is awesome and has been filling his truck up with wood from some trees he took down and I have already emptied one truck load into our woodshed, and this week he has another truck load for me.   I had college community group tonight that I was overwhelmingly excited for but it was my night to bring snacks, plus as said before it's probably the last sunny day for a while and the lawn needs mowing and the rose bush needs to be tamed and the trees need to be pruned and oh, there's the tarp hanging on the swing set, I need to brush that off and fold it up, and I need to do laundry, and go to the bank, and spray the weeds.  Plus, I would like to plant some bulbs but first I need to weed the front flower beds.  Alice's kennel needs to be cleaned, and while I'm in there the garage is a mess, I need to get rid of those boxes and ...
So I'm wrestling with this huge pool.  My dad had helped me yesterday, get most of the water out, laid it out in the yard to dry.  I took towels out to sop up what little puddles of water there were and started trying to fold it up.  Mind you, this thing is huge...and I'm trying to fold it up and roll it up and tie it up, by myself.  I finally started crying, and the crying turned to sobbing and then I was in a heap, sitting on the rolled pool.  What happened next is where  I know I  lost my mind...all I could think about was how when men have houses they just seem to take care of everything, how do they do it?  The men I know, work and come home and do chores around the house all the while acting perfectly normal..and some even take care of their families after that... how do they do it?  Then I started having this discussion with myself (in my head of course)  about my independence and how, well, I'm single and I wanted to live in this house so I need to figure out how to get this all done and if men can do it I can do it....NOT.  Sorry, if you disagree, sorry if you think we're all created equal, today I disagreed.  Because this is where BEING the helpmate would be so much easier.
So in mid sob, I marched up the driveway to my mom and dads.  My dad was plunking away on the piano, I walked into the living room, eyes swollen and red (well, and black from running and smearing mascara)  and he looked at me, and I blurted out in between sobs, " I think you should sell the red house"  and then he looked at me with the love that can only be found in men that live in households with more than one woman and he did not say anything he just hugged me.  And all I remember saying, over and over was, " I just can't do it." and I rambled off the list of things in my head that needed to be done at the house and repeated, " I just can't do it by myself."  And he very matter of factly said, "well you don't have to, WE can do it"  and my response was (in another blubbering sentence)  "but you shouldn't have to"  And he said,  sure I do, I'm the man in your life right now, so we'll do it."  and then he hugged me again.  My mom came in at some point and I'm sure with the hysterics going on was sure that someone or something had died but she soon figured out what was going on and lovingly nodded as my dad explained how he could and would help.

The pool is put away, my DAD unloaded the last truckload of wood, and I feel 10 times better just by having a good cry.

I still don't know when things will get done or when I will have a yard that comes anywhere close to the one I want.  But I do know that I worry too much and what the Lord keeps trying to tell me is KNOCK IT OFF.  I have a plan and you keep fretting over it... chill out because you are loved.  Ohh yeah, what it comes down to?  I am loved.  I am loved by a very powerful God, who gave me loving parents that I so LOVE living next to and I am privileged to be living in my grandmas old house and be living with 4 very wonderful ladies, who the Lord has put specially here.  So if the grass gets a little tall, or the rose bush takes over the clothes line, so be it.  I am loved and have a blessed life.

I worry...

 22 And He said to His disciples, "For this reason I say to you, do not worry about your life, as to what you will eat ; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. 
23 "For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. 
24 "Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap ; they have no storeroom nor barn, and yet God feeds them; how much more valuable you are than the birds !


Today I had chores on my list of things to do, lately though, on my list has been worry about how I'm going to pay for the missing room mate in The Red House.  I don't intend to worry, it just happens.  In fact, I have even had to tell myself over and over again that last year when I spoke to my parents about moving into the house I knew that God would have just the right group of ladies there, all the time.  Shortly after that we went through our first transition when one of the first got married and now we are going through our second transition with another taking off on an adventure to Idaho.  This time though, we are nearing rent being due and do not have a replacement.  My worry is that I can't afford to pay both my rent and the missing rent too, or my utilities and the missing utilities.  BUT God knows that so I just ask for peace and pray for the perfect gal to come along.  


One of my chores today was to stack some firewood.  A task that I really dislike, but I'm so thankful that my dad is donating it so we'll be able to use the wood stove instead of the gas heat this winter.  The other gals were busy doing what they had to do today so I was on my own to unload the truckload of firewood.  A wonderful man I know offered to help, but I knew full well, he had his own chores to tend to so I went about unloading the firewood.  It was humid and drizzling and pretty miserable but it was also quiet.  I took the opportunity to talk to the Lord, it was casual conversation, but as usual, lately, my prayers were laced with worry...about my future.  God had 2 answers for me.  

His love and watchful eye are everywhere.  He reminded me that He loves me and that I need not worry.  

Spontaneity is not my gift...

but I love it.
Sometimes.

I love it when an uneventful evening alone turns into a room full of some of my favorite people.

Today, I came home from work and one of my room mates was making bread, it smelled soo good.
At that moment I decided I was going to make pizza.  Homemade pizza.  From scratch, dough and all.

The pizza was good, but what makes anything taste better is people to eat it and laughter to share.

NOT A HERO

When you grow up with a firefighter for a dad, there are certain things that become "the norm".  The laundry room smells like smoke when he comes home along with his hair and the soot in his ears, there is a scanner that goes off all hours of the night in the basement, Easter is about the parade and Christmas time is about being picked up by the firetruck...riding on piles of lumpy hoses and getting treats from Santa Clause.  The blue Citation had a green light, that only the volunteers got so that when their pagers went off they could travel safely to the fire station to report to the call...but what happened to the rest of us that were in the car? We waited.
Some of my favorite memories are at a young age, so he must of been in his first few years in Seattle but his shift hit most of the holidays so we had Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners at Station 2.  And at least 1 of them would be just the wives and kids because the men were called out.
Hill Park was for 3 legged races and hay stack hunts and orangecicle ice cream cups with wooden spoons (can you even call those things spoons?)  And there was the time that my dad was "command" for the weekend and I had to be at drivers ed at zero dark thirty...well, he used that little strobe thing to change the traffic light so I wasn't late (shhhh don't tell anyone) And the demented fact that my sister and I really only wanted to go with him when the radio said it was a "fully engulfed" structure fire or an injury accident.  Yeah, it's terrible and now I know that now but then all I knew is that's where most the action would be.

But it's not just the fun memories, it's the not so fond ones as well.  My dad had a home fire escape route, we all had a way out in case of fire but he would test us...yes by setting off the smoke alarms while we were sleeping, and yes, as an adult I can see where this is of benefit but it lent itself to years and years of me being a  paranoid kid that thought my house was going to burn down any day.  I would go to bed but then not be able to sleep until I checked the stove and checked the iron etc.  I remember in high school coming home to THAT look and then the dreaded sentence, "hey do you know so and so"  (insert name of someone that was just in a horrific accident that was my age that I may know)  And of course, I would much rather get that information from my dad then someone else!
As I got older a few things became more and more apparent to me and his job became more than just hunting for quarters in a pile of hay and bags full of peanuts and a tangerine on Christmas.  He was a volunteer in Snohomish but the Deputy Chief so in this small town everyone knew who he was and if you were a cute boy trying to be a firefighter you were either trying to get to know me because of that or afraid of me because of that. He was a Deputy Chief in Seattle too, and everything in between throughout the years and as I ventured out into the world discovered that the same thing goes in Seattle, although he was a much bigger deal  in Seattle the sentence would go something like this " YOUR dad is CHIEF MILLS?"  Like he had no first name or something!
My least favorite part about growing up with a firefighter for a dad was that I knew at a very early age that he may not come home.  That he may lose his life in the attempt to save someone else.
On January 5, 1995 four Seattle Fire Fighters lost their lives battling an arson fire in the Pang warehouse.  My dad knew them all and as a family we went to the memorial ceremony.  We stood with the mourning wives and mothers and children...and I selfishly thanked God it was not me as men marched down the streets playing bagpipes and hundreds upon hundreds of firefighters and firetrucks traveled through the streets of Seattle.
On September 11, 2001 my sister called early in the morning, she woke me up.. I don't even really remember the conversation, I just remember turning on the TV and staring.  In shock.  By this time my dad was not only a chief in Seattle but also a member of the Urban Search and Rescue Team through FEMA.  He had already gone across country when the Oklahoma City bombing occurred, and this was so much bigger. As we sat silently on the phone both listening to the same news channel... I knew we were both wondering what the other was afraid to ask.  Was our dad going to be asked to go?  Was our dad going to risk his life again to do his job?  The silence was broken, Nico said, "I asked dad if he was going to go."  Silence again. " He said there's a good chance."  I sobbed.  I sobbed that morning for the knowledge of what was happening there, I sobbed for the lives that were lost, and the ones that would be lost and I sobbed because I was so scared I would lose my dad this time too.
I didn't lose my dad, in fact he didn't have to go. or if you ask him he may say "get to"  because that's how it was.  My dad is retired now and he'll be the first to admit that fact.  "Hey dad did you hear about that huge fire?"  "Nope, I'm retired."

I am so proud of my dad.  I am so thankful for my dad.  I believe it takes something incredibly special in a person to sign up for and WANT to say, today I will put my life on the line for yours.  And it's not something that they turn off when they're not "on duty"  it's a way of life, it's just WHO they are.

I once told my dad that he was a hero, and he said , "No honey, I"m just doing my job."

That is what those 343 firefighters would say about 9-11.  They were just doing their job and for that we will all be forever grateful and will never forget!

My Drug of Choice

Back in February I wrote this after an amazing time I'd had for a friends blog about playing...I was reminded of it today and realized that I had never posted it on MY blog...

I didn’t laugh enough today, I can feel it in my countenance.  That’s kind of like saying I didn’t breathe enough today.  You see last weekend, God showed me , or rather reminded me, what it’s like, to laugh and play and have fun and I’ve been trying to incorporate that lesson into my everyday life.  I learned another lesson today, it’s more fun to laugh and play with some people, than others. 

Today, work started out really great, I didn’t have to be there till 8:30, I prayed most the way down there, and when I got there everyone was in a good mood, it was a great day in the making!  Well, then it started getting busy and one of the guys on the register started getting flustered, the gal leading the floor  didn’t get enough sleep last night so she wasn’t really deploying people properly and chaos began to set in.  I requested to be parked behind the espresso bar so that I could just concentrate on being fun, and trying to lift spirits but then came “ohhh I wanted that extra hot” after I had already steamed the milk, and making playful fun comments to employees to invite them to playfulness at work, only to be shut down by their bad attitude.  Then, our registers, go down which creates even more chaos.  I still tried to stay light hearted shouting out to the line that we were going old school and getting the abacus out to add up their orders… I got a few chuckles.  Now had the people I really enjoying playing with had been there, there would have been soul deep chortling going on….but not from this crowd.  And with one last ditch effort, when the registers finally came back up, I belted out a “yeeee haw” and only got strange looks from everyone. 

I sit at home now, alone, longing for that someone that makes me laugh at a day like the one I had today, laugh so that it all goes away…melts away into what WE want to laugh about and before I know it we’re giggling, chortling and loving one another and I’m ready for whatever the world has to offer, once again.

  I’m going through withdrawals…from the very thing that makes me WANT to breathe.  

Front Row Seats...

On one hand I'm utterly confused...
don't know which direction to head.
I'm sick of working retail, but have a great job.
I miss the comfort of CCLS but love CE.
My heart aches when I think of how much I will miss Tessa and Nicole but am so excited for THEM!
I'm excited about possibilities but grow weary of waiting

BUT on the other hand...
I know exactly where I'm going.
I have this anticipation in my gut as I think about the future...hope.
As I recount my life, events that have happened, realizations I've come to...
 I find myself smiling for no reason, a spunk in my step that's been gone for some time.

I may just let myself believe that the curtain is going up.
I may just have what it takes to step out on that stage and be the star of my own show.
and you may just want to sit back and watch because I have a feeling this is going to be a pretty good story.