dirt don't hurt

There we sat, a group of mothers, waiting while our children sat in story time. A full hour alone without anyone bothering us, it was glorious. We all plopped down, unmoving, and enjoyed the brief respite during a summer break that is already overloaded with fun and the work that goes along with it. I’m not sure how it all started, but someone mentioned something about being at a park and how her child was slightly on the dirty side before coming into the library. She said it quietly, as if it were the most embarrassing thing she’d experienced all day, her dirty child and how she had to wipe the dirt off of her legs before anyone saw her. “You kidding?” I said, the wise one with three kids who has probably gotten four full nights of sleep in the past 10 years and eats more meals behind a steering wheel than at her kitchen table. “Did you not see me scrub the faces of my kids in the parking lot with a baby wipe before we walked in? I think there were two servings of ketchu...

“I’m going to wear all black. It only seems fitting.” These were my words to a friend while discussing what one wears to such an event. “Not only is it the color of misery, but I’m guessing the mud won’t stain, and neither will my sweat and blood.” I was feeling pretty proud of my forward thinking. The event, which my husband signed me up for months ago against my better judgment, is a new craze in the running world. Not at all for charity, this race actually costs you hard eared money, leaving you thinking somewhere in the second mile why you would pay someone to beat yourself up so very much. The race is called the Warrior Dash, and is catching on like the fire that you eventually jump over. (Yes, this is true. Read on.) A three-mile course spotted with numerous obstacles, thousands of people line up to test their warrior skills and see if they can prove that they truly deserve the fuzzy Viking helmet you are given when you register for the race. (At this point you’v...

It can start from something as a tiny spark caused by two sticks being rubbed together, but if I’m being less poetic and more realistic, there is probably a good squirting of charcoal lighter fluid and a wadded up piece of newspaper. Maybe even this very piece. But it all ends up in one, glorious finale of flames. The campfire. The same random dancing orange and red flickers that arise out of a mere pile of sticks and logs. For centuries, these same images have brought people together and been a source of warmth, food, poetry and song. The same warm figure in the evening light has made cavemen scream, cowboys eat, and certainly have toasted a few gazillion marshmallows. Surely something so ancient has wisdom in its midst, right? The campfire has a lot to teach us, if only we’d put down our weenie roasting sticks and listen. What a better world this would be if we all took a few tips from the fire pit. 1. Warmth will bring people together. Whether it’s the d...

I am proud to say I was interviewed for a wonderful podcast program by The Wilderness Center. Click HERE to listen!

Beep…beep…beep…Attention children: We interrupt this summer break to bring you an important message from the out-of-doors. Please close your laptop, turn off the television, relax your texting thumbs, unwind your fingers from their clutches of the video controller, and listen carefully. The driveway awaits. It wasn’t long ago that your parents spent their entire summers outside, from the time they rolled out of bed and did their chores until the streetlights came on and the voice of their parents yelled their names through the streets. Chances are your parents did not have the electronic luxuries that you have today, and playing outside was the best way to stay out of their mother’s way so that she wouldn’t wring their necks for pestering her and constantly making a mess. So out the door they went. And when it came to playing outside, there were very limited and, dare I say, archaic toys. We had no Ripstix, we had really funny looking scooters. There was no fancy colo...

This was not my idea, but it was so good I had to make one for ourselves. An un-official summer to-do list, complete with a bunch of ideas to turn to when we wake up and say, "what are we going to do today so that no one kills each other?" We quickly scribbled some ideas after they got home from their last day of school yesterday, and I hope to keep adding to it as we come up with other dreams and plans for our days in the sun and nights under the stars. Last night we sat around our annual last-day-of-school campfire, ate our favorite popcorn, and my daughter learned a C and an F chord on the ukulele. My son learned the in's and out's of a harmonica. It was one of those nights that was so perfect, I can't get myself to actually cross those items off our list... I want more.