Racing a Grandma

     All these things have happened. But, since the "Million Step Challenge" is on my mind right this minute, that's where I am starting out.


     Last year, I began a "Step Challenge Club" at work. Participation was great, but, then it sort of fell off. I discontinued it, but, was asked in January to restart it again. It only took a few weeks, before participation started to drop again. One of my co workers then came up with the Million Step Challenge. To be completed between May 8 and September 8. First prize to be determined.


     I was all over that. I could totally do this. I calculated approximately how many weekly steps I would need, and decided to do this. I am always walking anyhow, so, why not?
     Turbo is THRILLED. We do at least 3.5 miles every day.


     I walk to baseball and T-Ball games.


     I walk home from baseball and T-Ball games.


     I walk on my lunch breaks.


     I walk every hill I can find.


     I walk with my 15 year old.


     I have several requests from friends/acquaintances/and even the mayor's wife, to get together and walk.


     I was out walking at 11:15 at night last Saturday, to try and get over 100,000 steps in for the week.


My competition? Linda. Linda is approximately 4 feet tall. She is 60+ years old. She is a lifelong smoker. She drives a full size pickup truck with an extended cab, that is decked out in camo. She hunts. She goes four wheeling. She loves to walk thru creek beds, take four wheelers thru mud pits, is dedicated to the local Beagle Club (where her husband is president), runs around after multiple Grand kids,  and is right up at the top with me. Without even trying.


     WITHOUT. EVEN. TRYING.


     I am killing myself, trying to get all these steps in, and Linda is just doing life as usual. At this point,  I want to beat Linda purely on principal, because, honest to goodness, I am not even forty. I cannot be beat by a 60 something year old grandmother. It's a matter of pride here. Anyhow. I suppose all I can do is try, right?


     Yesterday we attended a Going Away party for The Southern People. (They have requested that they remain unnamed in this post. I agreed completely. Besides. I don't think anyone residing in Franklinville will have any idea who "The Southern People" are. Since we have so many people from Mississippi kicking around our middle of nowhere-everyone-is-related-somehow-multiple-generation-town. Total anonymity here on this Blog.)
     Anyhow, this Southern family moved here temporarily a few years ago. Mr. Southern Person travels all over the place for his job, so, Mrs. Southern Person and all five of the Little Southern Persons travel with him. Unfortunately, Mr. Southern Person's job in this area has ended, so, it's back to Mississippi for them.
     In sticking with the whole "walking everywhere" theme of things, the kids and I carted folding chairs and a strawberry shortcake trifle over to the Southern People's home. Where we encountered a police vehicle sitting in their driveway.


     "Mom?" Lexi said, staring at the police SUV. "Ummm. The police are at the ( Southern People's) house..."


     "I see that."


     "Do you think we should still go? I mean...."


     "Absolutely! It's a small town. We are obligated to go now, because at this point we need to know WHY the police are there. It's our duty now."


     "What if we can't get into the party because of the police?"


     "Well then. We will pop these chairs open right on the sidewalk, and we will watch the police activity while we eat our strawberry shortcake trifle."


     "Okay."


     "Besides. This just means it will be an awesome party. You know things are going to be good, if the police are already there!"


It turns out the police presence was due to a bonfire happening in the back yard. The police officer decided to check it out, and announced it needed to be in a better contained receptacle. So, they complied and sent him on his way.  He did return later, to just make absolutely sure. He was graciously invited by Mrs. Southern Person to partake of the food and drink and stay awhile (She was getting aggravated with his suspicion, and, being Southern and everything, I am sure she added on a "Bless your heart" or two, which is how I have heard Southern People say "Because you are being a jerk -insert lots of inappropriate language here - and we have just about had it, so you may as well just pull up a chair, since you insist on parking in the driveway and crashing the party with conflicting stories as to your presence.")
     There were approximately five million children in attendance, lots of adults, and, the food was descended upon like locusts had arrived. It was a good time. We laughed a lot, and I will honestly miss them so much.


     Also of recent note: I got a massage. This is noteworthy, because, I never get massages. Even though I have often thought that, if I won a lottery jackpot, the first thing I would do is book a massage, and then hire a full time massage therapist for myself. I am not even kidding. It's a dream of mine.
     Recently on Groupon, I found a wonderful deal for a 90 minute massage, and booked it on the spot. Seriously. I earned this massage. I was so looking forward to it, that, I actually dreamt about it the night before. In my dream, all these obstacles happened, and I couldn't get the massage. I really needed that massage.
      Without incident, I arrived at the massage location. It was in a fairly affluent neighborhood, in a house turned multiple business offices. I left my phone in the van, because, seriously. I am constantly on phones for one reason or another. I just wanted two hours of no phone time.
     I walked up the driveway, as, the house sat back from the road somewhat, and entered the house. Where I realized that all the other businesses were closed for the weekend. It was just going to by myself and the massage therapist.
     The waiting room book selection consisted of titles along the lines of "Guitars for Dummies" "Finding the Inner Self" "The Odyssey".


     Just me and some guy I don't know. Massaging my naked body. No one knew exactly where this place was.
     I hadn't thought to leave the address.
     My phone was in the van.
     Every bit of training I have had since working as a VA nurse, for self defense began to scream at me. I spend every work day, making sure I am not putting myself in bad situations.
     This was pretty much the anti-VA training right here. I knew better. Great. I was probably going to die now. Well. Hopefully I would at least get the massage first.


     The therapist came out. A 30-something young man who had a low pony tail and was about as New Age as they come. I figured I was pretty safe, and agreed to be led back to the massage room.
     The massage began. Relaxing music. My neck being rubbed. All those tense muscles... this is soooo nice. Honest to goodness, I just want to float in dreamland and -


     "So. I see on your intake form that you are a nurse."


     "Mmmmhmmm."


     "Where are you a nurse at?"


     "The VA."


     "What do you do?"


     "Everything. Lately, a lot of behavioral health."


     "Oh. And, do you medicate people?"


     "I do not. The doctors do."


     "I do not agree with chemicals. They are a foreign substance in the body. Have you had your patients tested for sleep apnea? Sleep apnea causes so many issues."


     And. Here we go. That went on for awhile.


     "Are you religious?"


     "Mmmmhmmm. Whatever you are doing to the shoulder there is lovely."


     "I believe in God and Jesus, but, I do not believe in institutionalized religion."


     "Everyone has their own beliefs."


     On we went. How do you tell someone to just kinda shut up?


     "I had this mentor ask me once if I had ever experienced complete silence or stillness. I said yes I had, and he said I couldn't have, because your heart is making noise you can here, and your breath and body are never all the way still, nor is the world around you. It is a goal - to try to experience the peace of complete silence and stillness." He remarked dreamily.


     "It's called death. I would rather put that experience off as long as possible." I snapped back a little tartly.


     Anyhow, it was quite the experience, and, honestly, I want to go back. Whatever he did to my back and neck and shoulders is worth the chatter. I just wish I didn't have to argue about religion or my job while wanting to launch into a dream state. There has got to be other topics of conversation out there.


     Anyhow, that is a small portion of life around here in a nutshell.