The Campaign Trailhead

Naomi and I had the following conversation, this morning, as I brushed her hair...

Naomi: Where’s dad?
Me: Downstairs.
Naomi: What’s he doing?
Me: I don’t know. He’s downstairs.
Naomi: Dad should be Mayor.
Me: He'd have my vote.
Naomi: Yeh, he’s smart…
Me: He is smart.
Naomi: …he's a good speller...
Me: Mmm-hmmm.
Naomi: …and he makes peanut butter cookies.

If Only I Had Magic

N is increasingly independent in the mornings. These days she gets dressed, brushes her hair and teeth, takes vitamins and checks her backpack for its essentials pretty much on her own. This morning our paths crossed in the front hall. She was fully-dressed in butterfly pants and a flowered shirt.

I let out an involuntary "Oh, my!" before qualifying it with "you're all about the patterns this morning."

"Yes," she said proudly. "It's butterflies and flowers."

"Yes, it is. It sure is."I contemplated how hard it might be to adhere a MOM DID NOT DRESS ME TODAY note to her back.

"See the butterflies are flying to the flowers to pollinate them," she squinted up her whole face making sure the words were exact. "If only I had magic. I'd tap the butterflies and have them fly in a swirl to the flowers."


Her finger traced the swirling flight path of just one butterfly to a flower's stigmata. With a narrative like that the folks at school can hardly doubt this was an independent, and magical venture she was on. Darn it, because, suddenly I wanted in on that action.

Bitterly Colder-Boulder

Darn it! Yesterday in my email inbox was a note from the Bolder-Boulder coordinators. The Bolder-Boulder is a 10K race every Memorial Day in Colorado. I’ve finished the race seven or eight times. Weddings and babies will occasionally pose a scheduling conflict. More often than not, however, I’m part of a mob of several-thousand runners at the starting line.

I first ran the Bolder-Boulder ten years ago. My friends Lisa and Ann convinced me to give it a go. The race still hits one of the high marks of my year. Even the requisite road-trip to transport me and my running shoes to Boulder is nice. Naomi has grown up enough to enjoy the flat-irons. As a runner, where else would you encounter a “Kegs & Eggs” aid station set up in somebody’s front yard?

When I started this Bolder-Boulder running effort I set the goal of finishing the 10K in 60 minutes or less. Hasn’t happened yet. I came close two years ago with a 63 minute time. (Not that I hold a grudge...but...boy, did I feel like those three minutes were just thumbing their nose at me!)

Anyway, back to my email inbox yesterday, I got a note from the race coordinators. Each year the organizers pull together the Colder-Boulder (5K) at the six month mark from the Memorial Day race. This email was notifying me that my race times qualify for participation in the Colder-Boulder.

Here’s the darn it part: this email landed in lap of a woman in no shape to run a 5K. I have been heavy into yoga and swimming recently. Aside from my occasional 20 minute jump-rope and funk music excursion I’m a dud with the running shoes. Factor in the altitude difference and Sunday's run is a no-go.

I’ve never had a qualifying time to participate in…well…in anything! Adding insult to my injured pride Colder-Boulder race participants get this handsome alpine-fleece cap. After you’ve sweated all over the darned cap, yeh, you get to keep it.

I feel like the girl who just got asked to dance and froze up because she, she can't. It's a bitter pill to swallow having to skip a trip to one of my favorite places on the planet, and the chance to run in a goofy, fun 5K race. Throw in a fashion accessory, like the cap, and it's flat out painful.

I laced up my shoes, for the first time in months, this noon and went running. Should this old girl receive an invitation again some day she intends to be prepared.

Cosmetics Counter

Naomi: What are you doing?

Me: Putting on mascara.

Naomi: Why? You only will get it dirty at work.

Me: Probably true.

Naomi: That's why I don't wear make-up. I would only get it dirty at school.

Me: Good thinking. You're also a little young to wear make-up.

Naomi: Why?

Me: Make-up tries to take older women and make them look younger.

Naomi: Yeh. But that trick doesn't work for you.

Me: Mascara doesn't make me look younger?

Naomi: Not really. Your face always looks more like a twelve year old (pause) just with a whole lot of wrinkles.

Me: Thanks. I think.

Necessary Solitude

I woke up late some time last week, buried my cold nose under the covers and thought: “Humpf, I guess its fall.” Sadly, the warm weather had crested and my cold nose is a harbinger of colder temperatures (and appendages) to come.

Bare branches, shortened day-light, migration and deep-sleep hush the noisy summer chatter. Cold weather inspires a necessary kind of solitude to clear my head a little. With the election behind us, I'm trying to reconcile lofty conversations of politics with my more immediate surroundings. An ambitious goal, I know, but worth a try. Because at the center of each of us lives a small, soft animal trying to survive the cold.

Early Voting

Over my lunch hour I cast an early-ballot at the Lancaster County Election Commission office. The line was long, but things clipped along at a good pace. Stem to stern the line was a 30 minute time commitment. No "I Voted Today" stickers though which was a notable down side.

To sound like a complete geek, I have to say I generally find election days exciting. This year has a particular groundswell but it only offers thematic variations for me. That kind of butterfly feeling I got at the polling booth isn't entirely attributable to the McCain or Obama ticket. Its the sense of being part of something bigger than myself. Voting conjures a similar sense of wonder and purpose I get when standing in a large forest. Its a moment where my place in the fold of something feels exactly right.

On my way out of the Election Commission office I pressed through the heavy glass door. A dry wind kicked up around me and I reveled in a moment of confidence that I had just helped elect the next President of the United States. Not too shabby.

Fall Back

Enjoy sleeping in, folks! Tonight is daylight savings.