Blood, Sweat, and Frankie

A couple years ago, I wrote a post about my internal struggle to get up the courage to donate blood.  For those who haven’t read it, let me summarize it for you:

Donating blood makes me nervous.

Like, really nervous.  Sweat pouring out of me nervous.  On the precipice of a panic attack nervous.  It’s not the needle, it’s the combo of my impossible-to-hit veins with the awesome reaction of my body to the loss of blood (hint: it’s not pretty).  Quick update for those of you who did read the post – I have had another failed attempt since my previous success story.  I’m, um, not going to dwell on that…

But I am going to try again.  Mostly because I’m stubborn and I want to.  If you know me, this comes as no surprise and you can probably stop reading, but for those who don’t please allow me to explain myself.  

Fighter Frankie!

I want to donate because of Frankie, the son of a dental school classmate of mine.  Frankie has been a fighter since birth, as he was born with cancer.  But it’s not just Frankie that drives my desire to donate.  Yes, he is the catalyst and I am honored to be able (to try) to donate at his 1^st Birthday; but he’s not the entire reason.

I want to donate because it easily could have been the person at dental lab bench #76 (me) instead of the person at bench #18 (Frankie’s mama) wondering why this was happening to her precious boy.  

I want to donate because no mom should ever have to see her little one need blood.  But since some do, I want blood to be there for them.   

I want to donate because ALL moms need support, especially those whose hearts are hurting for their little ones.  Sadly, we have lost this sense of community in our judgement-filled “mommy wars” culture and we desperately need to get it back.  

I want to donate because I am blessed to have healthy children, which in no way means I can turn a blind eye to those whose children are not as healthy.  In fact, in means that doing something like donating blood is just a small blip on the radar of life – even when you’re so nervous about it you kinda want to yak.  

I want to donate because you don't get a lot of chances to make a life-changing impact for another person, so I want to take those opportunities when I can.  Plus a blood donation can impact up to three people, so that's a pretty good return on your investment if you ask me! 

I want to donate because as a Christian, I am called to look not only to my own interests, but also to the interests of others.  Mathematically this looks like: Others’ Interests (saving lives) > My Interests (not passing out in public) 

I want to donate because only 3% of eligible donors actually donate.  And I want to be part of the 3%.

Lastly, I want to donate because I want my boys to see that some things are worth doing, even if they are not easy.  Maybe especially when they are not easy.  

And so, I have signed up to donate at Frankie’s 1^st Birthday Party…and I want to encourage you to join me.  If you are apprehensive, think of your own reasons why this is important to YOU and then sign up!   I will be there to cheer you on!  And you’ll definitely recognize me - I’ll be the one with sweaty palms, lying supine on the table looking super cool while trying not to pass out…

PS: If you absolutely can't donate or are not eligible to donate, please consider volunteering in another capacity to help Frankie's 1st Birthday be a huge success in raising money for children with cancer!  There are lots of opportunities, click here to find one that's up your alley!

Merry Advent to All; And to All a Good Night!

It's been a while since I blogged...I'd like to say it's because I haven't had anything to write about; but if you're one of the 3 people who actually read this blog, your response to that would likely be, "that's never stopped you before" and then we'd just stand here in awkward silence.  No, it's because I've barely been holding onto my sanity for the past 6 months or so...but after this past month I'd say it's safe to say I have officially lost it completely.

In October my mom, my Little Mister, and I were perusing Meijer's assortment of holiday (and by that, I clearly mean Christmas...by that time decorations had been in the stores for months) merchandise when my mother happened upon this "Advent" train:

If the pumpkin next to Santa bothers you, then you are probably the reason I included it.  You know who you are. 

(I'm putting "Advent" in quotes because the train is really just counting down the days in December until Christmas, whereas Advent actually begins the fourth Sunday before Christmas.  Don't say you never learned anything from my blog.)

My mom (of course) wanted to buy it for the Little Mister - thinking that I'd put candy in each drawer and that would be that.  She really should have known better (I am a dentist, for goodness sakes) and I (of course) devised 24 needlessly complex "Advent" activities that would cause me to lose my marbles over the course of an already stressful month.  Here are the highlights...

December 1: I successfully navigate Pinterest (a small miracle for me) and find a cute Baby Jesus in a manger project.  For straw, it suggests tearing strips of paper.  After tearing 2 pieces of yellow construction paper, the box is nowhere near filled and the Little Mister is losing interest.  Enter my first genius idea for the month - introducing my 2 year old to the paper shredder.  I spend the rest of the day vacuuming up tiny bits of paper strewn about my house. 

December 3: In a move to prove I'm not a total monster, I did put candy in about every 4th drawer.  Today, the Little Mister discovers this...and proceeds to open all the drawers and empty the ones with candy.  And then eat it.  All.of.it.  Meanwhile, I am preoccupied cooking a healthy dinner of spinach and mushroom quiche.  Oh the irony...

What chocolate???

December 6:  We get to see Santa at my Grandmother's nursing home party.  We practice all day for what he wants to ask for - a bike and a new board game.  Once Santa arrives, the Little Mister announces that he wants me to tell Santa what he wants.  At least he got semi-close to jolly old Saint Nick, as last year he stood across the room staring.  I'm counting it as a victory.

Through the magic of photo editing, it almost looks like he's actually on Santa's lap.

December 7:  Our church does "Blessing Bags" every year that the congregation fills with food for a charity in our area.  The Little Mister did a great job shopping for the food...so great in fact, that when it came time to donate the food, he was still trying to figure out the puzzle on the back of the box of Life cereal.  Which wouldn't have been a big deal, but we had to drop the food off at the front of our church's sanctuary...right as the service was starting (because clearly the Esbers cannot get anywhere on time, let alone early).  No picture for this one...I hope you'll excuse me for not stopping to snap a pic as I pried a cereal box from my crying toddler's hands in front of 300 people and then promptly escorted him out of the room.    

December 10:  My grandparents used to get homemade candy from this quaint little candy shop in Columbus that's been open at least 6 decades.  Today, I wanted to continue the tradition by taking my son to the exact same shop and letting him pick a piece of mouth-watering, homemade candy.  Then we would skip down the sidewalk together as we ate the candy and he would tell me what an awesome mom I am (hey, I can dream).  As soon as we enter the store, he heads straight to the very small display of commercial candy in the corner...and picks out a roll of Mentos.  Embarrassed, as the store's only employee and I were discussing my family's history with the store and why (exactly) we drove 45 minutes to get there for this special occasion, I put it back and walk him over to the glass cases full of delicious looking chocolate candies.  He runs back to the Mentos...then proceeds to fling my words right back at me: "you said I could have anything I wanted!!!!!!"  "Okay, but you won't like it!" I (maturely) retort.  I purchase the pack of Mentos (and some back-up candy, I'm not totally stupid) and we proceed to exit onto the sidewalk, where instead of skipping he puts a Mentos into his mouth, chews for 20 seconds, makes a horrible face and spits it out.  "I don't like it." he declares.  "Just (deep breath)...just get back in the car, Buddy."  Sigh...

December 13:  This is the first day I cheat and change the predetermined activity.  Reindeer pancakes aren't supposed to happen until the 20th...but I decide I want them for breakfast today and the Little Mister can't read yet to tell me that's not what the card says.  Mommy win.

December 17:  Christmas cookie day!!  One of my good friends and her daughter come over to bake and decorate Christmas cookies.  My friend and I get to chatting and I lose track of how much frosting / how many cookies the Little Mister has eaten.  I deeply regret this later as the sugar buzz lasts the rest of the day, followed by the massive crash about an hour before bedtime.

December 19:  I forget to put the Christmas book under the tree for today's activity before I go to work.  Patrick and I are exhausted after work and there is no food in the house, so we decide to cheat again and say that today's activity is going out to dinner.  The Little Mister chooses the place (Bob Evans, natch) and we're off.  Only to be leaving with boxed up dinners and our heads hung in shame about 45 minutes later.  Apparently Patrick and I were too exhausted to remember the Esber family rule #6 - do not attempt to take the Little Mister out of the house on Attitude Adjustment Friday.  Which is every Friday.  Here's a picture from the parking lot:

Don't let the smile fool you...

December 20:  We officially "took away" today's Advent activity after the Bob Evan's disaster.  So claiming that he was missing out on "something waaaay more fun", we unofficially visited the awesome train exhibit in Delaware.  If there is something more fun for an almost 3 year old boy (and his dad) than looking at (and riding on!) trains, I have yet to find it...but he doesn't need to know that :)

December 22:  We continue our on-going project of wrapping gifts.  I'd like to blame the Little Mister entirely for the lack of presentation on the wrapping, but I just didn't have the energy to make them look any better.  I also attempted to pray with him for each of the recipients of the gifts...but he wanted to wrap the dogs' presents first and after wrapping and praying for 5 dogs, I was squarely in the 'just get this done!!' frame of mind.  The holiday better get here, fast.

December 25:  Finally!!  The Advent train is over Christmas is here!  My Little Snoop has shown his true colors this week and peeked at his gifts.  And working on sight words came back to bite me when he announced to his Grammy, "I think that's my bike!" after seeing a plain cardboard box in her garage with only the company's name (Islabike) on it.  But his favorite gift was a surprise from his Uncle Than...his very own chainsaw!  Just what every small boy needs.  At least it came with safety gear...

Of course it was all worth it in the end to experience Christmas through the eyes of a child who really "got" it for the first time this year.  Despite all the stress this month, I think Patrick and I did a pretty decent job making sure that the Little Mister knows that the season is about Jesus and His gift to the world.  We are so blessed as a family, and I am looking forward with great anticipation to 2015!  Where I am sure, come December, I will reload that Advent train and do it all again...

On Becoming Mom

The other day, in the midst of checking out at the grocery store, my little mister wanted to press all the buttons on the credit card reader (what two year old wouldn't??  It has lights and buttons and it's perfectly at the level of a child sitting in the front of a cart.  They're pretty much asking for it.)  After using my best I'm in public mom voice to tell him it's not ours so we don't touch, he reached over...grabbed my hand...silently put it in his mouth...and chomped down.  I pulled it away and went about my business, completely ignoring that it even happened.  It was only after I looked up at the clerk who said, "Did he just bite you?" in her best you are clearly a failure as a parent voice did I realize the amount of judgement in her gaze.

Confession: my son is a biter.  Clarification for all my mom friends who suddenly feel the need to reschedule any future play dates: he only bites me (and sometimes Patrick, but if he wants to whine about it, he can start his own blog.)  Yes, filed under "I" for irony, the dentist has a child who bites.  We have been consistently disciplining him for it since he was old enough to understand (ie: a while) and have seen results that wax and wane depending on his current developmental stage.  But if you think for a second that I'm not motivated to eliminate this behavior, I have lots of bruises on my hands/arms/collarbone I would like to offer up in rebuttal.  Trust me grocery store lady, it's hurting me A LOT more than it's hurting you...literally and figuratively.

But as all moms know, sometimes it's just not the time or the place to stage an all out disciplinary battle with your two year old.  And while checking out at the grocery store, I just wasn't fighting this battle.  After all, he wasn't throwing an audible tantrum; and sometimes systematically ignoring bad behaviors is touted as an acceptable discipline technique.  Albeit that was not *exactly* what I was thinking in this situation.  No, it was much more along the lines of, "Please, please behave until we're in the car...I just want my spinach and overpriced Greek yogurt for crying out loud!!"

So after admitting that yes, he just bit me (followed by some nervous laughter on my part) the clerk decides to announce, "Well, you can tell you're a mom" using an incredibly haughty tone in order to make it excessively clear that she did not mean this to be complimentary in any way.

Now I am not a quick thinker; and much to my chagrin I do not possess the gift of being able to say the exact thing I mean to say at the exact moment I mean to say it.  So true to Kelsey fashion, I finished paying for my groceries, told the clerk to "have a nice day", and left the store with my head down.  It was only after I got my guy buckled in, packed the groceries in the back, and sat in the driver's seat that I began to process her words (if not the intent behind them).

"Well, you can tell you're a mom."  Good.  Then you must be able to see the love I have for my son.  The pride I have in him.  The long days and sleepless nights and how I wouldn't trade a single one of them for a million days of alone time.  The worry about state of the world around him.  The dreams for his future.  The inadequacy I feel on a daily basis.  The patience I somehow muster when my tank is empty.  The bliss of him telling me he loves me when I don't deserve it.  The fear of some unknown, horrible thing happening to him.  The nightly prayer of thanks that God knows best and saw fit to give such a blessing to me.

You see before I had my little mister, I wasn't sure I could do all of that.  Any of that.  I was terrified that I was going to be a huge disaster of a mother.  My child surely deserved better.  For 9 months I fretted, panicked, and cried because I was convinced I couldn't do it.  I knew being a mother was the hardest job ever created, and I feared I was not cut out for it.  But when the doctor handed him to me, all that worry seemed to fade away in the presence of a new mother's realization that I fiercely loved this little person that I just met.  Somehow I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would do anything in the world for this precious child.  And all those months of fretting, all that worry, all those feelings of inadequacy suddenly were not me being a failure as a mother, but rather just the first steps of my ongoing journey of being a mom.

So those words -"you can tell you're a mom" - no matter how snarky they might have been said, somehow validate that journey.  I must be doing something right because someone who knows absolutely nothing about me can tell that I'm a mom.  And to me, that's the best compliment in the world.  So Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!!  I'm proud to be one of you, bruises on my arms and all...

Coming Soon to HGTV

If you haven't caught on to the over-arching theme of my life from reading this blog, here it is spelled out for you in black and white:  I have a real problem about not thinking things through and then getting in over my head.  It's like a disease.  Or a character flaw.  Ummm...nah, let's go with disease.

This time around, I was innocently perusing Facebook on Ash Wednesday when I happened to see someone post a link to a "40 Day Declutter Challenge."  And I (of course) instantly thought, "I love to declutter!*  I love a challenge!  What a perfect combination, I'll do it!"  Insert ominous background music here.

[*for clarification purposes, decluttering is NOT the same as cleaning.  I like to get rid of unused stuff, but I hate cleaning.  My house may be (really) messy, but everything in it is getting used on a regular basis, I promise!!]

So I downloaded the spreadsheet from the website and set myself a few rules.  1: I will not spend more than 15 minutes decluttering any one area.  2: I will count completing one of the many, many half finished projects around my house as my decluttering for the day.  And 3: I will not get upset with myself if I miss a day.  No really, I won't.  (At times like this, I seriously wonder if I have even ever MET myself).

Without further ado, here's how it went:

Day 1- I am supremely confident in the fact that I couldn't possibly have 40 days worth of stuff to declutter, as I am certainly not a hoarder.  I boldly type "Kitchen" into the spreadsheet and commence.  I finish one cupboard and sheepishly change "Kitchen" to "Baby / Sippy Cups".  Done.

Day 3 - I break my first rule as I stay up late after work and clean out all the cupboards in the master bathroom.  Total time on task: 1 hour 23 minutes.  

Day 5.5 - I didn't realize that the 40 days of Lent didn't include Sundays and I clean off some shelves only to realize that there is no space to record my accomplishment on the spreadsheet.  Lent fail.  

Day 9 - I have a, ahem, rather large collection of purses that I have amassed throughout the years and it's time to pare them down a bit and organize.  I end up using some wall hooks in our closet that were already there...how convenient for me!!  (And how inconvenient for Patrick, as his belts and ties were residing on those hooks.)

Day 11 - I feel like death and sleep most of the day away...but in one of my more lucid moments, I drag my drawer of costume jewelry into my bed and sort my necklaces out from a supine position.  

Day 14 -  I miss a day.  And, guess what??  Try not to be shocked, but despite Rule #3 I feel so guilty about it I make it up by decluttering something extra over the weekend.  If anyone has a good "40 Day De-perfectionism Challenge", go ahead and send over the spreadsheet.

Day 16 - I am decluttering the kitchen utensils and dividing them into a pile that we use and one we don't.  The chicken potpie crimper (a Pampered Chef device, natch) goes into the "don't use" pile.  Patrick wanders by and asks, "What's this?"  I say, "It's a chicken potpie crimper.  I have never used it, so it's getting donated."  He studies it a bit and says, "I have another way to fix that where you don't have to donate it..."  I glare at him and add chicken potpie to the upcoming week's menu.

Day 19 - I have literally been working on oversized Scrabble tiles with the little mister's initials on them for weeks.  Today is the day of reckoning....today I will flippin' finish this project and declare victory, no matter what.it.takes.  I bribe the little man with the promise of seeing a forklift and head to Menards.  I then spend the next 1.5 hours trying to install floating shelves in the little person's room with a 2 year old assistant (so helpful, I assure you).  That hour and a half breaks down into 45 minutes actually installing the shelves and 45 minutes ripping apart the entire room to find the screw that my assistant "misplaced."  

Day 21 - Confession: I get stressed out by my magazine subscription (I can't be the only one, right?!?!?)  I don't have time to read it when it arrives each month, and eventually the stack of Real Simple mags gets 3 or 4 deep and I start to have anxiety about making it through the pile.  I started reading a little each night when the challenge started and today I finish them all: January, February, March, and April.  Done.  It helped a lot that I made a point to not obsess about reading and remembering every detail.  Seriously, WHY AM I ANALYZING THE INGREDIENTS OF A RECIPE I WILL NEVER MAKE?!?!?!? #TypeAProblems. 

Day 23 - Deep breath.  Today, I will clean out my car.  Afterwards, Patrick asks if I'd like to go vacuum it out at a gas station.  Woah, woah, woah...one step at a time, please.

Day 25 - Frankenshorties (n): wool longies cut and hemmed into wool shorties.

Day 30 - We had a pipe burst this winter and to assess the damage we (specifically my brother) had to cut a hole in the drywall in back of our cabinets in the family room.  This meant that while this cutting was happening and during the drying and bleach treatment stage, every.single.item from that cabinet was on top of the bar in our family room (which I hate anyway).  Today, I finally sorted through it and put it all back.  It was more of a personal victory as it was the end of dealing with the water problem, but I'll count it.

Day 34 - Our house is an old farmhouse, so the woods behind our house is filled with decades of trash from when "taking out the trash" meant "I'm going to go dump it on the back 40."  List of things that Patrick and I cleaned up: an old time lawn chair, a beautiful piece of broken ceramic pottery, countless cans and glass bottles, a bocce ball, a 2x4 with lots of rusty nails sticking out of it, a mesh bag at the bottom of the creek filled with...something (*shutter*), a garden hose, and an old sweater.  Anyone who attempts to preach that the older generations "never threw anything away" is going to get a stern look from me.

Day 35 - My monthly goal every April is to do a "deep clean" of my kitchen.  I call and ask my mom to borrow some Clorox wipes to complete this job.  She proceeds to tell me that my call is so ironic because she just bought a 6 pack of Clorox wipes at Costco this morning, and that they are very handy for cleaning so I should just get some and keep them around.  I say I don't really like all the chemicals in them, but I do think they do a nice job wiping schmutz from the cabinets.  Here's the unspoken version of the conversation -
Me: "That would be ironic Mom, if you didn't have an addiction to Clorox wipes and have no fewer than 137 containers of them stashed around your house at any one time.  Remember you putting them on the shopping list at the cottage when we already had 7 open containers of them??  Yeah."
Mom: "You wouldn't have schmutz on your cabinets if you actually used a Clorox wipe more than once a year.  How did I raise such a slob??  Sheesh."

Day 38 - I get alllllllmost all the way through the challenge before I discover my first decluttering mess up.  I vaguely remember seeing a little clear plastic cylinder a few weeks back when I was decluttering and throwing it away.  Turns out it was the rubber head for my snap pilers.  ERRRRGH!!!!  

Day 40 - I think and think about some really climatic project to complete or area to declutter for the last day, but come up short on ideas.  Meanwhile, my (wait for it) Caboodle holding my makeup is overflowing.  Done and done.  

Forty days later, my house looks significantly better...and best of all, I feel significantly better knowing that I pared down my stuff and got rid of a lot of junk I didn't need (and in the case of my snap pilers, some I did).  Yes, I broke my rules.  Yes, I still have unreached places in my house.  And yes, I deeply regret cancelling our trash pick-up the week before starting a declutter challenge (yay for thinking things through!! Oh wait.)  But overall I think the result is good enough to be called a success, and I'm pleased enough that I am tempted to make decluttering a yearly tradition.  Because if there's one thing that's true about the Esbers, it's that we can't pass up an opportunity to make using a spreadsheet a yearly tradition...

Abbott & Costello, Lucy & Ethel, Paulus & Scott

One of my first blog posts was about my friend and occasional running buddy Lisa.  After years of begging, Lisa has finally acquiesced to running a race with me, yay!!   So if you're anywhere around downtown Columbus on May 3, watch for us!  It'll be like "Where's Waldo," except instead of red/white stripes you're looking for the crazy mass of red/blonde curly hair. 

I have to admit though, that running with Lisa always feels a little empty for me.  You see, Lisa and I are only two of a trio; with the third being our friend Katie (who I will henceforth refer to as Katire, as that is her proper name in my eyes).  A long time ago, the three of us had to share a bus seat (if you need to know how long ago that was, let's just say that all three of us have been skirting the 6' tall line for decades and there is absolutely NO WAY that three 6' tall people are sharing a school bus seat).  Katire got on first and got the window seat...Lisa was second and in the middle...and I got on last.  For the first few years of elementary school, Katire and I disliked each other as we each were jealous of the other one talking to Lisa on the bus.  Fate intervened in fourth grade, and suddenly Katire and I were in the same class...without Lisa.  Katire had a perm and glasses, and I had naturally ridiculous hair and was awkward as all get out.  Probably out of necessity, we formed a fast friendship that (unfortunately for Katire) is still going strong. 

Katire is the much needed straight man in our comedy duo.  I am silly, she is serious.  I am always late, she is only late if she isn't 10 minutes early.  I am disorganized, her nickname is "Katie Stewart".  She gardens, I kill things.  She is mature, I like to remind her that I'm older than her.  She always has what I need to borrow, I inevitably break it.  I am nosy, she is private.  I have hair-brained schemes, she is the voice of reason.  It has been this way since I showed up to her house in a fringed cut off neon green sweatsuit and she told me I looked like the Jolly Green Giant.  Since I got blue dye on the top she lent me for senior pictures.  Since she told me to "get your dignity out of your purse, please" once at the movies.  Since I walked around Meijer holding a ladle and hugging the inflatable Keebler elf.  Since I broke her crockpot last Christmas.  Since she told me to keep this blog interesting or she'd stop reading.

Katire's friendship kinda helps me be a functioning adult.  Her well placed, "Oh, whatever"s let me know when I'm needlessly getting all excited over nothing and her faith to continue to lend me things after numerous failures in the "I'll get this right back to you" department speaks to just how loyal of a friend she really is.  And even though I often struggle to show it through the big goofball that I am, Katire's friendship is super special to me.  She is the closest thing I will ever have to a sister...someone who knows my past and my present and will undoubtedly be there for me in the future.  So even if she's not running the race with me, I know she'll be there at the finish line.  Eating a huge bowl of ice cream and mocking me, sure.  But there nonetheless...



 





 

Leaplings Have Birthdays Too!!

So apparently everyone writes a blog post on their birthday.  And despite the fact that I (Patrick) don’t have a birthday this year, which Kelsey keeps reminding me of, I thought it might be fun to write one.  I chose this topic because I probably see the readership of this blog fairly frequently, but you probably do not know much about me except what is directly related to Kelsey and the little person.  

I apologize in advance for the drop in quality but most of the things I write these days are of a technical nature.  A note about technical writing: not long after I started working someone mentioned that most of the things we write no one wants to read in light of this what we write should be as short as possible.  

Without further delay, three things you might not know about the guy who accompanies Kelsey and the little person on occasion:

1.       I like to read books, a lot.  I occasionally wander off, but mostly I stick to fantasy.  I have really enjoyed Glen Cook’s Black Company Books of the North, Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn trilogy, and even the occasional book about an Egyptian sorcerer, an evil clown, and time travel.  Oddly enough I have never read any of the J. R. R. Tolkien books.  This seems like something I might have to fix.

2.       I enjoy college football.  Every year at the start of college football I root for eight teams to go undefeated and for chaos to reign.  But for the most part that does not happen.  I know it is not shocking that someone would like college football, but I tend to be more interested in the administrative side than how my favorite team does.  Topics like should players be paid, how should a national champion be chosen, the difference between how universities treat coaches and players those are the things that interest me.  This could be because I am rather unathletic and never played football at any sort of competitive level, but that is the sort of fan I am.

3.        I guess we can stick with sports.  My favorite sport to play is tennis.  Don’t get me wrong I am bad at it.  I mostly concentrate on trying to hit the ball over the net and in play, as opposed to trying to score points.  But it has two things working in its favor.  First, it is not a team sport.  I realize that team sports teach us a lot of important life lessons blah, blah, blah.  But I don’t like team sports.  I don’t like having other people depend on how I do, and I don’t like it when I can’t control the outcome.  Second, it is fast paced.  You do not spend ten minutes waiting for the ball to come your way or three innings waiting for your turn to bat (here’s looking at you baseball).  I probably have not played in a year or two but it is near the top of my list of things I should do more. 

Well that concludes my birthday blog post.  If you can think of an interesting topic that I should write on for next year please let me know.  That is, if Kelsey let's me write another post...