The other day I got pulled over in Bend for rolling through a four-way stop. Though I didn't literally feel threatened, having read about so many people's movements within their car being misinterpreted by officers of the law, without any conscious thought on my part, I made sure it was OK with the officer to reach for my license, registration, and insurance card. Until that moment, I had no idea what it meant to feel the need to protect my own life.
This fall my 94-year-old, drum-playing-jazz-musician-cousin, Cary, fell while loading his drums between gigs. Within a week after surgery to repair his broken hip, he was in rehab determined to be front and center for two New Year's Eve gigs and a jazz cruise in January. Now that's livin'.
Second only to misplacing one's glasses and finding them on top of one's head: I looked and looked for a favorite plaid shirt to wear one day, only to discover I'd put it on earlier that morning.
When I emailed Karen that UNC was blowing their football fields dry with helicopters, she replied, "Reminds me of our high school baseball games in farm country. Our team was state champion for many years, so baseball was a big deal. If it rained too much and there were puddles in the infield, farmers came in and dumped diesel on the puddles and burned them off, probably not very environmentally sound."
While watching the World Series this fall, I became overwhelmed listening to all the trivia and speculation - especially when it came to pitches, though I do understand the game is all about pitching. Within 30 seconds of hitting mute, I realized it was actually better with the sound on. And I do love that barely visible strike box.
One day when Austin was around 12 years old, Molly asked him to mop the kitchen floor while she was at work. Ever the thinker, he instantly knew which product would give the floor the perfect shine: Lemon Pledge. Needless to say when Molly and her dog first stepped foot on said shiny floor, both went down for the count.
Even though about the only time I ever went into the OSU library was to smoke in the Women's Lounge, I was lucky enough to have a long, fulfilling library career at Stanford Research Institute. After the initial literature search was completed, my job at SRI was to retrieve the relevant books and publications from Stanford for all the scientists, economists, and engineers doing research and needing those materials. A go-fer's dream job.
I first became a believer when my Mom hollered, "Jesus" at the top of her lungs just before we got in a car wreck. I was 6. I knew instantly He was the one for me, too.
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