Tomb of the Unknown Soldier article

My uncle sent me a forward about this topic, so I further checked in on it because part of it didn't sound right. Not being about to talk and not drinking alcohol forever? Didn't make sense. However, this is still a very cool article and I wanted to save it somewhere. My dad probably already knew everything in it too :)  I have yet to visit ANC and would like to at some point, maybe this fall if possible.

“ARLINGTON’S TOMB OF UNKNOWNS: SENTINELS AT THE TOMB WALK EXACTLY THIS MANY STEPS AT A TIME BEFORE THEY STOP & TURN”

In terms of my own discoveries, I wasn’t sure if the right name is Tomb of the Unknown Soldier or the Tomb of the Unknowns. It turns out that it is commonly known by both, but there is no official name.

Herewith, a breakdown of the still-circulating email.

TOMB OF THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER AT ARLINGTON CEMETERY

1. How many steps does the guard take during his walk across the Tomb of the Unknowns and why?
   ANS: 21 steps: It alludes to the twenty-one-gun salute which is the highest honor given any military or foreign dignitary.
   Snopes says: The guards do make 21-step walks past the Tomb of the Unknowns because 21 is considered a number of special significance. It relates to a naval “code” of canons on land replying with 21 shots to a ship’s 7-gun salute. Read here for the origins of the 21-gun salute.
2. How long does he hesitate after his about face to begin his return walk and why?ANS: 21 seconds for the same reason as answer number 1.
   Snopes says: This is a somewhat true but incomplete statement. The guard does not execute an about-face, and there is more involved in the procedure than is described here. This other site describes the process more precisely.
3. Why are his gloves wet?
   ANS: His gloves are moistened to prevent his losing his grip on the rifle.
   Snopes says: Correct.
4. Does he carry his rifle on the same shoulder all the time and, if not, why not? |
   ANS: He carries the rifle on the shoulder away from the tomb. After his march across the path, he executes an about face and moves the rifle to the outside shoulder.
   Snopes says: OK.
5. How often are the guards changed?
   ANS: Guards are changed every thirty minutes, twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year.
   Snopes says: From 1926 through 1937, the Tomb was guarded only during daylight hours. Ever since 1937, it has been continuously guarded 24 hours a day, every day of the year. Sentinel guards are changed every thirty minutes between 8 AM and 7 PM during the period from early Spring to early Autumn (April 1 through September 30), and every hour between 8 AM to 5 PM the rest of the year. At all other times (i.e., while the cemetery is closed), the guard is changed every two hours.
6. What are the physical traits of the guard limited to?
   ANS: For a person to apply for guard duty at the tomb, he must be between 5′ 10′ and 6′ 2′ tall and his waist size cannot exceed 30.

Other claims in the email:

They must commit 2 years of life to guard the tomb, live in a barracks under the tomb…,
Snopes says: Incorrect. “Sentinels at the Tomb do not have to commit to serving there for any fixed period of time, and the average tour of duty is only about half the two year period claimed here. Like most servicemen, Tomb guards may live either on-base … or off-base in housing of their choosing.

…[they] cannot drink any alcohol on or off duty for the rest of their lives.
Snopes says: Incorrect. There are no restrictions on guards’ off-duty drinking.

After two years, the guard is given a wreath pin that is worn on their lapel signifying they served as guard of the tomb. There are only 400 presently worn. The guard must obey these rules for the rest of their lives or give up the wreath pin.
Snopes says: Incorrect. The badge is worn on the pocket of a uniform jacket, not a pin worn on the lapel.

The shoes are specially made with very thick soles to keep the heat and cold from their feet. There are metal heel plates that extend to the top of the shoe in order to make the loud click as they come to a halt.
Snopes says: Incorrect. The shoes are standard issue military dress shoes.

The first six months of duty a guard cannot talk to anyone nor watch TV.
Snopes says: Incorrect. “A Tomb guard’s behavior is not so stringently regulated that he is prohibited from speaking to anyone for a full six months (someone seems to have confused the Old Guard with a monastery!), and guards may do whatever they want (including watching TV) during their off-duty hours.”

Every guard spends five hours a day getting his uniforms ready for guard duty.
Snopes says: Correct.

POST SCRIPTUM FROM SNOPES

Although serving as President of the United States qualifies one to be buried at Arlington National Cemetery, only two former Presidents are interred there: William Howard Taft and John F. Kennedy.

POST SCRIPTUM IN THE EMAIL

The email I received went on with a further tribute:

In 2003 as Hurricane Isabelle was approaching Washington, DC, our US Senate/House took 2 days off with anticipation of the storm. On the ABC evening news, it was reported that because of the dangers from the hurricane, the military members assigned the duty of guarding the Tomb of the Unknowns were given permission to suspend the assignment. They respectfully declined the offer, “No way, Sir!” Soaked to the skin, marching in the pelting rain of a tropical storm, they said that guarding the Tomb was not just an assignment, it was the highest honor that can be afforded to a service person. The tomb has been patrolled continuously, 24/7, since 1930.

In any event, while there are some inaccuracies in the email, the intention is good. This post is my small little tribute to the men and women who serve and a special salute to the guards.

By the way: The word TOMB appears 21 times in the article above!

This entry was posted in history, war, WWII and tagged 21 gun salute, 21 steps, Arlington Cemetery, Jeopardy, Jeopardy question, Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Tomb of the Unknowns by minterdial. Bookmark the permalink.

Downsizing Dad's life to a few boxes

So I'm back to NOT running again.

I've been trying to clean out the house. I didn't realize how much shit I have! And my dad! His den is almost done. Gotta disconnect the cable *sigh* and give the TV to Kelly and take the recliner into the other room. WE ARE keeping it. Not them.  No one bought it for him, so I am keeping it. She's wants the TV, the truck, and his bedroom furniture, I'm keeping the goddamn recliner. He sat in it EVERY DAY. Bugsy would climb on his lap; Maddie would, occasionally Tessie would. Everyone but Tessie would nap with him on that recliner. I'm keeping it. Try to argue with me, I will shut you down.

Yes that's my mood. I've been so freaking moody its not even funny. Oh gosh its horrible! This has been the worst fucking year of my life, besides last year. I swear to God 2016 better be worth it!

Some good things happened this year. I had a life changing surgery, I'm learning to run and bike, and I'm losing weight that will never come back again. I did make a difference in my mother's life, and I'd like to think I made a difference in my father's life too. I have been a devoted daughter, I've sacrificed to make their lives better. For that opportunity, I am grateful. I know that sounds weird, but some people don't realize that to care for someone is a privilege. I'm a nurse, thats how I see it. I kid a lot about hating my profession, and I am really discouraged with it and the place I just finished working at. But if I am able to continue in this profession, I think I'll be able to look at it differently then I used to. I really just want to start over in real estate. I want to prove to myself and the rest of the world I can do something like that. Plus I feel like I will enjoy the process. So why not? Remembering that life is short, this makes sense!

I've met some really nice people this year too. Some of them have made lasting impressions on me that I'll never forget. I look forward to keeping their relationships. They are special to me.

My bike is ready, so we can pick it up tomorrow. Tomorrow we have to make a trip to the Good Will. I have to clean out my dad's closet. His suits are in there :( Some of his old shirts, nothing really special. My sister already stole his Aaron Rodgers jersey the day he died; the other 2 Packer's jerseys are safe with my brothers who deserve to have them. I have some of his things are sentimental to me. And perhaps in the future, they will lose that value and I'll give them up. But for now, there's only so much I can handle with throwing out his stuff.  How do people handle this shit? Its gotta be the worst thing ever---going through a loved one's things and trying to figure out what to do with it all. thankfully my mom didn't have a ton of stuff. I'm keeping some of her clothes and I will wash them and I have a project for them--you can make some of the articles of clothing into pillows. Or a blanket. I'd love that. Lord knows when I'll get to that project though!

I hate to say it but I'm still really sad that my siblings are so disconnected from me. There's not much I can do to fix it this week, and I don't know if it will ever change. I know thats part of the reason why I'm not strong and I'm struggling to get through this house stuff. I don't know what to do to fix it yet. Darcy says pray on it; I do but that's like psych meds: it only works 40% of the time. I don't plan on giving up, but I find it difficult to put much hope into at this moment.

The garage is completely empty, by the way. We joked that it hadn't been like that since they week my parents moved into the freshly built house! Sadly, its the truth. But its so weird to see it empty. You can say not to dwell on things, but we just threw out the man's life. Into the dump. It wasn't savable stuff, but at the same time, it was his STUFF.  I hope if I get older and have kids, own a house, and so on that my STUFF doesn't get thrown in the dump. I hope that I don't have a lot of STUFF to begin with. I need to downsize some of my stuff thats boxed up in the basement. I worked on it for 2 days, I have one more day of a few boxes to go through. The rest of it is my STUFF. I'm 35, I have STUFF. If someone thinks that because I've only rented for 10 years that I wouldn't have accumulated things, they are crazy. My one sister has an entire house full of STUFF. Moving for her someday will be a nightmare. And guess who's NOT helping?? :) I'm not going to extend that offer since it wasn't extended to me. In fact, nobody ask me to help them move....ever. I'm never doing it.

Hopefully when we move out of this house we can afford to hire movers because lugging the boxes from the basement around to the front is torture...its up hill coming out...and its all uneven grass. Ugh. Nightmare. And Its my stuff mostly, so Travis isn't thrilled about schlepping my shit to yet another holding tank. (Re: Apartment.)

I couldn't imagine moving across country! As much as I adore my family out there, I'm not sure I can do it because a) parents are buried here b) I want to sell real estate here and c) I'd have to move all my  STUFF! So maybe lots of visits if I can make some good money someday.

I'm not sure how many more times I can possibly play "Blank Space" by Taylor Swift or "Shut Up And Dance" by Walk the Moon but I've probably got a record going. Where were these songs 10-15 years ago when I was young and in that part of the game?? :) I mean, I'm no Taylor Swift and certainly wasn't back then but that was sort of how I thought of dating. I always felt like it was this game, and I was on top of it. (HAHAHAHA couldn't be further from the truth, but thats a girl's ego for ya!) It brought back memories going through my boxes--finding all of this stuff from my first 2 jobs when I was young and dating and "partying" and playing the game. Young and reckless was a good way to put it. It seemed like I had blank space to write some of those names in. "Boys only want  love if its torture" is kind of true at times. As for "Shut Up And Dance" thats just a catchy tune, reminds me of an 80's hit. And we all know the 80's were a happy time for us 30-somethings. That was before life was complicated. Plus it describes how I wish I could just find that special person and go out with them on and dance the cool summer night away and just laugh and have the best time of our lives. For that one night at least.  Like, shut up, don't talk, just enjoy the moment. Live in the moment, be on the same page! I crave that sooooo much. Thats how I know that there isn't going to be a wedding, there isn't going to be a forever. We just aren't on the same page. Unless that changes, I can't do that. Even though my family loves him and he has been through some serious shit with me and my parents, I just don't think its meant to be forever. I'm just not happy. I feel like right now isn't the time to break up. Too many life changing things this year, you don't add to it purposely. At least I can't. Not only that, we are financially dependent on each other. We also just can't quit yet. It hasn't played its way all the way out yet. So, maybe next year? Who knows.  I don't like changing my routine, but then again, what routine? A shitty one that I live every day hating? Makes me think.

This morning I had this flashback memory of the moment we realized back in January that the Packer's weren't going to the Super Bowl, and I cried. And my sister texted me saying she cried too. I remember my dad watching it saying "I don't believe it!" and then of course his phone call with his brother. *SIGH* (That was a big one.) It dissolves into tears. I hate these flashbacks. They seriously kill me. I've been having them since my mom died; for her and now even more for my dad. WTF? Is it like a way of torture? It's working! I had this vision when I was coming home last night from Whole Foods...I was driving past the pool and about to turn to get to my street...there will be a day when I won't go that way, and it won't be our house anymore. I won't have a reason to even be in that area really, other then to visit my friends on the street. I felt a serious 5 seconds of sheer panic. So when that day comes and we move and sell, there won't be any amount of $ that will take that melt down away. I will seriously melt down. It's going to be meltdown day. I'm going to need a serious batch of meds for that day.  And originally, at the beginning of this whole death thing this year, I figured one way to combat this stress would be to run. It usually makes me feel better. And what am I doing? Sitting on my ass, on my laptop eating garlic bread and NOT running lol. My reason and logic is that it's storming, which it is. Pop up storms the rest of the night. I can't safely go do a run. So fine, no biggie. Maybe I can tomorrow night. Who knows.

Sorry Ruthie, I didn't run again this past week. Sorry Daddy, I had to throw out a lot of your stuff. Please forgive me!!!

Repost of My Recap of August 2014, last days with my mom before she moved.

From Friday, August 29, 2014, reposted here from my old blog. Its been one year or so, give or take a few weeks. I could hardly read this without all of the moments and flooding of tears hitting me all at once. 

The Next Phase.

It has been probably the most difficult and stressful summer, besides the summer of 2008. (we all know what was going on in Sara's world back then.)

After my mom got sick the first week of July, spent a week at HCGH, then about a month at Encore for therapy, she was discharged home to us. Oh.my.God. 

Let me preface this all by saying a few things. I love my mother more then anything on this planet. She is my flesh and blood, she birthed me, raised me, and cared for me like any wonderful mother would. She didn't know she would someday end up with one of the most challenging diseases out there. She lived her life and loved her family. She tried to be a good person, she spoke the truth, and she took care of me as best as she could. And knowing that she needed me more then ever, I was able to get through the most difficult 2 weeks of my life. 

The reason it was so hard is because my poor mother with late stages of Alzheimer's needed 24/7 care. Couldn't leave her alone, had to do everything for her or with her. And being a registered nurse you would think this would be easy for me. WRONG. I knew what to do, I knew mostly how to do it, but finding the strength and the energy and time to do it all with 100% was the challenge. Its even more difficult taking care of your own mother; when it's a stranger and you can leave after 12 hours it's a different ball game.

It started off with just me watching her; then Travis had to help because, I had to sleep...so we took turns staying with her downstairs. My 2 sisters didn't do anything to help in the home--Kelly would come by afterwork for a couple hours if that and just sit with her and basically be annoyed that she had to do it. My other sister didn't even come out to visit until I had to tell her I needed help. After all, I got FMLA granted for me to excuse me from work while I took care of her. I was out of work most of August. Without pay after a certain point. MAJOR sacrifice. We also had to cancel our week long vacation to Williamsburg that we set up back in January; we didn't get any money back from that. Meanwhile both of brothers were able to go on their summer vacations mind you...

 I had a huge fight with my dad about this, because he didn't seem to get it that it was exhausting me mentally and physically after 36 hours of doing it, and we needed help from our friends at Visiting Angels. He took his usual stubborn stance of not wanting to pay money for help; he seemed to have this idea in his head that a caretaker would be $50 an hour. Its obviously not, its $21/hour. And the V.A. pays for 10 hours a week free. He seemed to think I would only need a 10 hour break every week...for however many weeks this would go on. Well thats another ball game right there. Long story short--we were able to convince him it wouldn't kill his bank account to get me some help. We were able to set that up; was it worth the horrible fight in which I let him (verbally) have it? No, not at all. I regret saying some of things I said; he said a lot of hurtful shit too. But we survived, got through it, and it should literally be the last fight we'll ever have. There's no reason to yell at each other like that at his age. My brother Mark was extremely helpful and got me to calm down and see it from his point of view.  Thank God for that. 

So meanwhile, my mom is being herself; lots of repetitive questions--usually the same 10 over and over....
"Where are my shoes?"
"Where is my bed?"
"When are we going home?"
"What do we do now?"
"My legs are cold!"
"What are you going to do?"
"How do I turn the TV off/on?"
"Where is Bob?"
"Where's the dog?"
"Where's my address book?"
"This isn't my home!"
"When are we going to get home?"

This would go on the entire time she was awake. These ideas and topics were very worrisome to her, she just couldn't help it. Although sometimes I know she did it just to have something to talk about and get attention for. She can't help it, I know. But, for the past 3-5 years, these questions were generally asked multiple times during any interaction I had with her. So yes, it gets really fucking old hearing it over and over and over and over again. It tries your patience. You can't get anything done when you leave the room because she will sit in her recliner and scream these questions until you answer. A normal human being wouldn't mind answering these questions a few times, but after awhile, your answers aren't good enough because they aren't being remembered due to the obvious short term memory loss. So as a caretaker, it was the biggest challenge of all.

Due to her fall risk and being on Coumadin, we wouldn't let her ambulate on her own, hence the need to watch her 24/7. Travis invested in a really nice video cam so we could keep an eye on her while we left the room and she was alone. Most of the time she was good; she'd attempt to stand up and successfully did it twice without falling, but we'd usually dash into the room and tell her to stop. Also, while she was sleeping we could watch her, I could go upstairs and shower or rest or do stuff in the kitchen and keep an eye on her---it was viewable on a website, so I watched her on my phone and on our laptops. Brilliant idea. We'll just keep the camera for when we have babies. 

The second challenge was the foley catheter she had in since she was at HCGH. (It was the third or fourth one.) Supposedly the Rehab nurses did "voiding trials" and she wouldn't/couldn't pee. So the cath stayed in. Brought her home with it; no one wanted to empty it but me. My sister acted like it was poison and that irritated me because she knew it pissed me off that she didn't even try to empty it and she didn't really care. So at least the first 10 days or so we didn't have to run to the potty all the time, and I could monitor her output. The Flomax must have helped, she'd been put on that at the hospital.

We had home healthcare from Hopkins following her and my dad, so they came to the house frequently; PT, OT, drew her blood for the lab work, SW, etc. It was helpful. Sophia the RN was excellent and thank God for people like her that do that job.  (During all of this, my dad had her as well because he had a Pleurex Cath installed in his right rib area to drain the fluid build up and help his pleural space close up more. So he got a lot of attention at the same time.)  Within a week of her being home my brother convinced my dad that Assisted Living was the ONLY option for my mom, so my job was to find one. I pulled out the books that a case manager at HCGH gave me and started picking AL places with Alz care out and calling them. Most of the time the residential homes are the best options because they are more intimate, better quality, and cheaper. I lucked out by finding Carolyn Caswell at Country Gardens Assisted Living in Highland, MD. She had 2 or 3 beds open; Travis and I went 2 days later to visit. (We visited another one but it clearly wasn't for us.) So I got the paperwork, had Terri, Mike and Kelly visit it a few days later and my dad agreed and signed the contract. In order to get her in, we had to get some stuff filled out by her PCP; I had to get a MOLST form done. Another seriously painful thing to do, picking what options she would have if she went into cardiac arrest, etc. I got through that meeting with Dr. Gibbons without crying, so I'm proud of myself. I cried and sobbed quite a bit during my baby-sitting time; so many emotions and memories and thoughts.

Before she moved in, she had to see the eye doctor since it had been forever; come to find out she has bilateral cataracts. (OH lovely!) The next day I took her foley out and prayed that she would pee on her own. Sophia ordered straight cath kids just in case; I wasn't thrilled about the possibility of cathing her, I did it once as a practice and its as easy; I of course had made it into a big deal that it really wasn't. After a night of diarrhea, she was able to pee in the potty without issue. Halleluyer.  The bedside commode was the best invention ever too, btw.

Sunday August 25, 2014 we packed my mom up and set out for Highland, which is 15 minutes door to door. The saddest part was when we were getting ready to walk out the door and my mom looks at me and says "Where are we going?" Innocent enough question.
It literally knocked the wind out of me to hear this; she had no idea where we were going and why. Knowing that she is so vulnerable and dependent on me/us is incredibly hard. I had to walk out the door and get in the car and let Terri take it from there. The house she lived in for 43 years would no longer be her only home--now she would go to Ms. Carolyn's house and live there. Its so lonely here without her; when I stop to think about it I usually tear up. 

Another difficult aspect of Alzheimer's is seeing your loved one mentally decline and deteriorate back to almost an infant in some cases. Your mom, the one who was your boss, your rock, your advice-giver, your first love, was now gone, even though her body stood before me.  I still have a really hard time remembering what she was like mentally before she got diagnosed. I was young and naive back on 2004; I didn't realize the severity of her illness and what road we had ahead of us. If there is one thing I could do over again is I would have spent more time with her and really tried to live in the moment with her.  Now that I'm 34, getting married (sometime soon I hope), thinking about babies, wanting to do other thing in life---you know, things you would want to discuss with your mom. Get her advice, her opinions, hear what she went through, share the excitement with her, etc. That is one thing I will never get to experience. I'm sad for this, and mad that this fucking horrid disease has done this to us.  My siblings all got to experience this stuff; the last really great memories I have of her and I being together was when we painted my purple bedroom and decorated it in the summer of 2000. I remember when she would take great pride in ironing my nursing uniforms (those hideous white tops!) and all of the awesome things she took the time to pick out and buy me from QVC. I still have some of them; she was trying to prepare me for the day when I would move out on my own. Thats what mothers do, they help their kids with that...they take pride in guiding their kids through those phases in young adulthood. For that I will be forever grateful I have a few memories, its better then nothing at all. I just wish she was still "here" to help me right now. I know she would really enjoy Travis, and I know she would really enjoy hearing about where I work and what I do. I just wish I could pick up the phone and call her in the evening and say "look at the Cook's Essentials on QVC right now! I'm going to order one of those..." or "look at that pretty Diamonique necklace!"  I would love to cook with her, back with her. Pick out a wedding dress, pick out baby names. Tell her about my patients from work; tell her about the books I read; anything. Anything besides the answers to "Where are my shoes?" So to me the cruelest part of Alz is the tease of having them physically with you, but almost a total shell of the worst possible form of their former self.  Even  from the start of the diagnosis, you have that fear and in the back of your head that something bad is going to happen, you just don't know when and how. And thats sort of how this disease has gone--didn't expect earlier this year that this summer would be so rough for her. I did the whole "I should have done this...should have done that...should have known" game; I have a lot of guilt for not helping her more then I did. I had a lot of anger towards my siblings for not caring or not doing as much of the grunt work as I was doing. Its easy to come up for 2 hours and take her to dinner; try bathing her, putting her to bed, taking her to an appointment, helping her just get on the bus to go to the Senior Center. Giving her medications to her, picking out her food, cutting it up, hoping she will eat it, etc. Those are the things I did a lot of. Cleaning her house, that she once cleaned and took care of. Keeping her safe and out of trouble, keeping her occupied. Helping her stay calm and happy.  The type of stuff that is difficult to do on a daily basis; I just needed some help with that. Support. Moral support, anything. I felt alone a lot of times. Like when my sister would have the task of bathing her on a Sunday because Monday she would go out with her Visiting Angel's companion Louise, and then Winter Growth on Tuesday's, etc. and she would just not do it, not call me, not tell me, and I'd find out at the last minute before I was driving to work that it didn't get done. That was the most frustrating thing ever, and having it repeatedly happen and no one correcting it, and then getting pissed at me...that was the last straw for me. Fortunately this is all in the past. I don't have to do a lot of that stuff with them anymore; working with 2 disorganized and irresponsible people is hard for me. If I know something has to be done and I can't do it, I make a plan b. I don't just let it go and pretend it's not happening. So that being a thing of the past I can at least put that energy into myself once again.

I'm not saying that my sister didn't help and didn't try to do the best she could do; I really don't know if she did the best she could, but at least she was there and could help lighten the load at times. Some people have no one. I think people that have a hard time taking care of themselves that are thrown into something like being a caretaker for a loved one is a lot harder then for someone like me who is a nurse, who is relatively organized, and relatively able to plan a week ahead of time. One thing I would do over again is get Visiting Angels in sooner to help. Regardless of what my dad thought, we needed it a few years ago. Now I know that my brother is the key to getting stuff like that accomplished. But that is also in the past.

So from hear on out, it's the next phase. Is it the last phase? I don't know. Is there more then one phase ahead of us? I don't know. But one thing I can do now is try to reclaim some of my free time to help myself so that I don't end up with early onset dementia/Alz.

That and getting married, buying a house, having babies, changing careers, keeping my dad alive, etc. Those are the things on my plate now that I'm free from caretaker daughter.

Since I am planning to have bariatric surgery again early next year, I have to really focus on that. Which means following the program, exercising, etc etc.  If I can't get my weight down and start becoming a healthier person, I won't be able to get pregnant and have babies and carry on in my life. I am very interested in disease prevention--not curing--all of the horrible stuff that happens to us as we age and if we are overweight. I don't even want to go down the high blood pressure road; the type 2 diabetes world; the arthritis road, and especially the dementia road.

So here's to the Next Phase in life, may it be better than the last and make progress towards my goals.

Unending Love, Amazing Grace

Oh dear. The tears are flooding right now!

After working on the house today and going through all the file cabinets and finding things that bring back memories it was bound to hit me tonight.

Its Sunday tomorrow, and I'll visit the cemetery and make sure Ruthie is taken care of. I'll play music and probably carry out my ritual. But man, tonight, something really hit me.

Uncle Jerry must be so sad. His football buddy, big brother, and best friend is gone. This will be a sad football season without them discussing the Packers every night from August until January. The pain of not hearing this is...just freaking horrible!! I want to scream! Its so not fair! IT'S NOT FAIR! The phone still rings sometimes; I always immediately think its Uncle Jerry. And I'll here that infamous voice of my dad: "Hello." Followed by a completely different tone: "HI JER!" Like he hasn't talked to him in 5 years. Every night. Every single night. This is no more. It KILLLLLLLLLS me! So I can't even begin to imagine how his little brother, my Uncle Jerry, must feel right now.

But I realize, my dad is needed in Heaven right now. It's not an option--he has to be there. He has to watch over us. He has to protect us and guide us from a different point now. His work down here is done, but its just beginning up there.

I ran just over 10 miles in the past week; walked a ways this morning. I'm chiseling away at the pain slowly but surely. The pain of an uncertain future is still bothering me though. I'm praying my dad can guide my through it.

It is so painful and difficult to go through this and just when I think I can't, I do. I play the music and sing the lyrics or soak in the piano that makes up part of the soundtrack to this process.

"The Lord has promised good to me
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures
My chains are gone
I've been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy reigns
Unending love, amazing grace."

Bucket List Beginning

Bruce know's exactly what all of us girls are thinking apparently.

Can you name the songs? Different one on each line...

Thunder Road, Badlands, Drive All Night,  Jersey Girl, Rosalita, Born To Run, No Surrender,  Dancing In The Dark,  Prove It All Night, and For You.

The last 2  I didn't know; I never payed attention to the songs that much. I know, crazy right?

I'm still learning some of his songs. I don't want to know everything all at once, I like to spread it out some; there are times in life when you find a certain song or get into a band and you grab some of the lyrics and really soak them in. I figure he's got a huge catalog, I have plenty of time to learn every single song and lyric. I feel that way about movies too, I'm not going to watch every single one--there might come a day when I'm stuck in bed for a long period of time and there would be a good opportunity to watch and sing right? :) Until then I need to keep moving. Sedentary lifestyles are bad for the brain. Some people (and when I say people I mean doctors? Scientists? Whoever it is) think that sedentary lifestyles are contributing to these brain disease. But I find a small fault in that--I know plenty of people that were movers and shakers, had 6 kids, worked, etc and ended up with that wretched disease. So how does that work???  But it can't hurt to be more of a mover then a sitter. Don't get me wrong, I like laying in front of the TV with my laptop but after a while, I just can't do it anymore. I can't imagine what it's going to be like when I have kids.  You don't get a spare moment to do anything, so I'll be lucky to sleep or sit for 5 minutes.

So for Ruthie, she wasn't really sedentary until I was a teenager. She had quit smoking by then at least. She was never a drinker either. She had stomach ulcers, she was prone to them. I think she had migraines at one point too according to my sisters.

My dad was always moving. He was always doing a project, he worked hard; I know he probably sat a lot at work because it was that type of job, but he was a mover. He ate like shit though. Even until he died. But the last 2 years I felt like as long as he was eating, eat whatever you want. I know milk products are bad for the phlegm, and cow's milk in general is useless to humans but we use it anyway, but he liked it so I didn't push. I did make his "protein shakes" with almond milk and he didn't even know until I told him one day. I don't think he realized there was such a thing as almond milk lol. I don't eat cereal much anymore, so we keep a gallon of cow milk in the fridge and Travis drinks it more then I do. Certain meals I make I need cow milk for, you can't always sub in almond or soy for (that turns out disastrously gross btw).

I feel like I have 1,000 things I want to do on my Bucket List before I die, and I'm pretty behind on getting through them. I'm sure I'm not alone on that either. I don't know what the answer is. I know that some of the things are time sensitive--meaning my age and health status have to be excellent or nearly the best ever, so I can't wait too long on them.

PARTIAL BUCKET LIST

*Make Communion, find my way into
*Run a 10k
*Run a 1/2 Marathon
*Run the MCM
*Visit The Florida Keys and stay longer then a week
*Visit the Caribbean Islands
*Snorkel again
*Scuba?
*go to Europe--Italy, Poland, England, Ireland, Scotland, Norway, Sweden, Greece, Germany
*Hawaii, do a helo tour
* try to surf with a real surf board
*Fishing
*Go back to school
*get Real Estate License
*sell houses
*Flip Houses
*design/decorate houses
*own a business doing the above 4 things
*own 2 convertibles: A Miata (again) and a Shelby Kit Car (this will only be possible without kids and a lucrative business haha)
*See Bruce live as many times as I can
*Fall in Love, truly, madly, deeply.
*Do a stair club for 9/11
*visit Arlington National Cemetery
*Visit Rhinelander, WI
*Finish my ancestry.com project and publish it to send to family
*Learn how to photograph well
*chronicle my life through photography
*Keep enough $ in the bank to feel safe
*Keep enough $ in the bank so that if I don't work for 6 months we won't  go broke
*Adopt pets/foster pets and find them suitable homes
*Adopt a vegan lifestyle
*Go to a football game at Lambeau Field
*Go to a baseball game at Fenway Park
*Go to a World Series game, preferably with the Red Sox or Orioles
*Finish my tattoo ideas
*Keep my weight down to the goal #
*make new friends
*spend time with new friends
*develop closer relationships with my brothers
*see my family out on the West Coast once a year
*see my Midwest family once a year
*build something with my own hands
*OWN property
*write a book
*write a blog
*learn yoga
*learn pilates
*learn Barre
*Live the Dave Ramsey way
*Donate to End ALZ as much....


WILL CONTINUE THIS LIST AS TIME GOES ON*****

I'm Wearing 1,000 Bandaids

And another run for the win.

Ruthie, its HOT! Right around your birthday it gets humid as shit, and wicked hot. Thats your birthday month for ya! I get snow and ice, you get humidity and sun! Lucky! I'll take that over snow any day though.

I was dying at the end, it was just horrible. I got to the car and I could feel the heat on me and I think it was getting to that dangerous zone, even at almost 830pm. But I did it. Today I took the day off; according to my "Run Trainer" app I should have been in the gym doing weights or some shit. I hate weights. I feel overwhelmed, I don't know what I'm doing, I feel like a big baby--like I need a personal trainer with me the whole time!!! So let me keep the running going and then I'll work in the rest.

I did 10 minutes less in time, my pace was similar, It doesn't have my average speed on this screen shot for whatever reason. But I'm happy with it. I never sweated more in my life then I did with this run. It felt good. Thats what keeps you going back--the endorphins kick in, sometimes afterwards.
My eating has been so-so. I really need to watch that better. I'm a creature of habit. I'm stuck at 188. And sometimes it goes to 190, depending on the time of day. Its frustrating but I get why its happening. But I fucking wear a 12 so HA. Take that.

My new play list is great. I found a couple DJ's that do mash-ups, most of their stuff is not my style, but I'm sure if you hear it at a rave or club it sounds better. But they put this mash up of "Born This Way" by Lady GaGa and then "Born In The USA" by Bruce together and its freaking awesome. Its simple, not crazy, the rest of their stuff is really out there. They're like Coachella/Deadmau5 stuff. I don't relate. Lets just leave it at that.
Here is a crappy screenshot of my iTunes Playlist I use currently.

And here is Tess, at the Columbia Dog Park, doing what she does best--boss everyone around. She enjoyed herself, she played and ran quite a bit. I would say she got good exercise. It wasn't so hot either, and we had tons of water. The shaded area where we hung out was great; the other dogs were well behaved and it worked out nice. But you have to pay and get a special tag and register your dog in the county. Ugh.  OK fine, maybe we'll do it!! Someone was getting accosted about this when we were leaving, so perfect timing. God I love this little dog. She's my everything. Bugsy came too, he played some and generally enjoyed just hanging out with us. He's not as social; he's also not much of a fetcher. He wants to hang onto the ball and have us try to pry it out of his mouth, but he wants to growl and wag his tail. Sorry pal, not happening. Overall they had a good time and it was worth it.

So tomorrow I'm hoping with the weather supposedly being cooler I'll get to Centennial at 630 or 7p and get around it without dying. That's just my goal. No dying, no hurting myself. I think its a reasonable one.

In other news, the boxes are sitting in the hallway waiting for us to put the Verizon boxes in. Normally no big deal right? Well, it's the 2 boxes from my mom and dad's TV's. I bawled like a baby. I begged to wait until Friday, or when I'm not home. I've watched 34 years of TV with my mom and 35 years of TV with my dad....I know its silly. It's trivial. But holy shit did it hit me like a ton of bricks.
*sigh* Its like ripping 1,000 bandaids one by one. Each one represents an item or article of clothing or something that belonged to them. I'm wearing 1,000 bandaids apparently.

Tomorrow will be better! It just has to be....




                           

A run in the books! Finally!

I knew I would do it eventually. I always have to have my stars aligned, the right mood, the right thoughts. Sometimes the weather has to be right, and tonight it was.

I haven't run since my dad died; I remember the first run after Ruthie died. It was pretty tough. But I was also fresh post-op. This is almost 45 lbs down from February (65 from my highest). I'm trying to remember how in the hell I ran when I was at my highest? I did a few times. It was awful, I remember everything hurting a lot. Not anymore! I have zero pain. My feet don't hurt, my neck is ok, my legs are great, nothing. No back pain! This is good stuff right? 

One thing I struggled with was my breathing pattern. I'm not sure how to adjust that, how to fix that. I get fixated and focused on my music or the people around me on the path and I forget to take a breath   or at least spit or clear my throat. Then I'm in trouble, I'm struggling to get it on track so that my run isn't so hard on my lungs. I think it will get better with time. When its cold out it burns my lungs, so I'm not an outdoors runner in the winter. I'm better when its at least 60-90 degrees out. Gee, maybe thats why I should be living farther south from Maryland?? Anyway, I digress.

Ruthie I ran for you today! I did it! I think it was pretty good.  I downloaded a bunch or new tunes to listen to as well, and they were great. I added a couple of my current upbeat-running appropriate songs to my playlist so that really helped. That and I went the opposite way around the lake thinking it would be easier. Oh hell no, there are hills on that side that are pretty killer. I get tripped up with the  steady inclines. I try to remember that I'm really lucky and blessed to be young enough and able enough to do this. My dad couldn't even walk to the bathroom. He made it through Parris Island but as he got older, his lungs just couldn't handle things. He would tell me "The biggest thing I regret doing is smoking!" I know Daddy, I know. I regret you doing it too, but I'm glad you quit when you found out I was about to be born. Thank God, or you wouldn't have been around the 35 years I got to have you.

It was really crappy earlier this week on July 13 and 14. I cried so much. I was talking to Terri and she said "Who would have thought we would have been so sad and cried THIS much?" She's right. I had no idea what to expect with this. It definitely wasn't the same as February. But thats because we had a parent left, we weren't "orphaned." I'm an orphan now. We 6 kids are orphans, and other then my cousin Kirk who died 2 years ago, there hasn't been a death on either side of my family until this year. 3! Ruthie, her sister Joanie, and my dad.  Its amazing what the heart can take. Its amazing how strong you can be when you have to. 

Watching my brother Mark get up and speak in front of everyone was tremendous. This is a 50 something year old working professional who is organized, in shape, on top of his game, and lives his life to the fullest. He said he couldn't speak when Ruthie died because he was afraid he couldn't even get through a sentence. So when he spoke about my dad, it was awesome. To see him tear him and show the emotion that I know he has in him was something I hadn't witnessed before because we aren't very close. He's very private with a lot of those feelings. He mentioned getting to drive to Maryland from Minnesota to leave their car here and then flew back to Minnesota, and it was his first plane ride. They flew out of DC, because it was the first time he got to see all of these monuments and places he'd only learned about in school. He got to do it, alone, with our dad. How special is that?

Mark also mentioned that when he was beginning his career and my dad was nearing the end of his they would meet for lunch in Tyson's Corner. I remember when I was in elementary school and they would do this; somehow I would hear about this and feel like it was so cool they got to do that. Father and son. It showed a sensitive side of my dad, and if you grew up in our family you knew that was something you cherished because you weren't sure how much or when it would come out. So hearing about it 25 years later at his funeral brought back memories and feelings. 

No matter how much arguing we did, or how hard things seemed with my dad, I always ALWAYS knew that some day he wouldn't be here and there would be loose ends.

There are so many loose ends. But I'm trying not to dwell on them.

I didn't get to say goodbye.

I didn't get to say goodnight.

I didn't cook him his last supper.

I didn't tell him "Screw it, I love you, lets just stay here in the house and forget about those assisted livings!"

I didn't get to show him a new house, a baby, a wedding, a bachelor's degree, a successful career that I was proud of.

I didn't get to hear more personal stories about when he was younger.

I didn't get to sit and watch the Packers play in and win the next Super Bowl.

I didn't get to just say "I love you daddy" one more time.

Not knowing where you stood with your loved one that has passed is really difficult. Its something you have to choose to handle in the best way possible so that it doesn't east you alive inside.

With all of the changes going on right now in my life, I think running is going to help those changes not eat my alive inside. There are soooo many changes too. I never dreamed them, or imagined them would be happening; its crazy, God works in mysterious ways. There's a plan--we don't know it, thats the great mystery. You get to have that loved one in your life, but the trade off is you don't usually know for how long. You expect it to be forever and ever or at least a "long" time. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't. Everyone is put here for a reason, even if it's a short time. So make the time count! 

Life is so fleeting.

I want to run a marathon one day, and the reasons why are simple. It means the height of mental and physical well being to run 26.2 miles at one time. I want to get to that point, because at one point recently in my life I felt the weakest mentally and physically. I want to get to the highest point and dedicate it to Ruthie and my dad. What better way then to run in the MCM? Terri did it twice. She was scared, she wasn't sure of herself, but she did it. TWICE.  She's my sister, she's my brave sister, she's the one who takes charge and does what needs be done. She's my role model and she's more then a sister to me. There are times when we fight and I want to scream. But there is no other way I would have it with her.  SO.... MCM it is for this girlie. In about 2 1/2 years! Maybe 2017? haha. 2016 is pretty darn close. 

This is dedicated to the 4 Marines who died in Tennessee this week.
Semper Fi, RIP.
I know this would have really tore my dad up to see on the news too.