Toilet Paper Wars

It's Thanksgiving, so I've decided I am entitled to an extra gratitude post.  I just spent the evening with my parents, and there's a little war that I am grateful for.

My Father and I, years and years ago, got into a discussion...no...a disagreement.  It's something we certainly do not do often - very rarely even.  I remember it clearly.  Oprah started it.  She was on TV discussing preferences (I'm sure this was way before her topical brilliance of political matters and star studded influences. In fact, I can't even imagine why in the world she would have been discussing such a thing...).

Coke or Pepsi, chocolate or white cake, toilet paper over or under.  This was easy-peasy.
Dad: Pepsi.  Me: Pepsi.  Dad: chocolate cake.  Me: chocolate cake. Dad: toilet paper under. Me: toilet paper over.  Wait, what?  "Under?!" I protested.  "What is wrong with you, I feel like I don't even know you" I laughed out.

From that day on, I go to his house, and turn the toilet paper over.  He comes to my house and turns the toilet paper under.  It's a war of miniscule proportions, and one that makes me laugh with a love so deep for my father, I think sometimes that I drown in it.  Many men, come and gone in my life, have agreed - and as I said, they are gone.  One man once said to me, after witnessing a conversation between my dad and myself, "You know, no one is ever going to measure up to your father.  Your standards are unmatched."  Not an entirely untrue statement.  However, there still stands - toilet paper over.  My husband agrees.

And so tonight, I flipped my father's toilet paper from under to over, and I will expect the same from him when he is here for dinner tomorrow.  I am grateful for visits here and there, and toilet paper wars.

My Family Dynamic

Family: a basic social unit consisting of parents and their children, considered as a group, whether dwelling together or not.

Dynamic: Of or relating to energy or to objects in motion, Characterized by continuous change, activity, or progress.

My Family Dynamic: a unit of parents and their children, constantly in motion, changing and progressing... together.

I have a non traditional family, and for that I am more grateful than I ever dreamed possible. People often question how my family works, they raise eyebrows at our formation, and there is chatter about our cluster. When I talk family, I am talking about those immediate in my life, every day, intertwined and always moving in a forward direction.

I was married, and had two children. Their father and I divorced. He married my good friend who has three girls of her own. I also remarried, and welcomed a step son. My second husband was also married before, and had step children in his first marriage, one of which is actively part of our current family. It's complicated, and some days requires a map for explanation. However, within this conglomerate of people, there is something rare. There is unity, there is peace, there is friendship, and there is love. And, above all else, it works.

When you are growing up, and you dream about marriage and family, no one can ever expect what life is going to put on your plate. I am grateful we have all learned to always see Thanksgiving Dinner on our plates, to always dive in with grace in our hearts. To my family, in all of it's glorious complication, I am grateful, you make me whole.

P.S... There will be a picture of my family to follow.. I will get it one day, even if it kills me. <3

Five Miles

It's the weekend, and I do it as often as I can, I put five miles under my sneakers.  I don't know what it is, but it's the perfect amount of time to let go of my week.  I don't call anyone, I don't normally ask anyone if they'd like to come. Not on for these five miles.  These five miles are for me.  Today, it's a beautiful autumn day.  The sun is out, the smell of the trees on the walking paths is enchanting.  There's music in my ears, and blood rushing through my body.

Five miles, five days in my week just past.  Mile one takes care of Monday. Mile two eats up Tuesday.  Neighbors and traffic with open windows get serenaded with my rendition of Welcome to Burlesque, Someone Like You, Adele, Five for Fighting, Patsy Cline, and I really don't care who's listening or who can hear me.  It's my five miles.  I walked off Wednesday, trudged through Thursday and said good bye to Friday, smiling at my fellow walkers and runners.

I am grateful for my five miles, and I what it offers me.  Solace, peace, strength, and five miles of moments under my sneakers.

I walked five miles today, and it wasn't even uphill both ways.