Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Negative Start. Positive Finish.

My Dad came to America from Ireland when he was 19.  He had $50 in his pocket and went to work with his older brother who had immigrated a couple of years earlier.  Through lots of hard work and sacrifice, he learned how to build houses and was able to start a career and family here.  

I always thought of his story while I was growing up, in awe that he was actually one of those people who came to America looking for better opportunities, having nothing yet making something of himself and all the challenges that come with that.  You hear stories about immigrants just like him in history books and movies, but for it to actually be my father was very inspiring.  I remember thinking that I could NEVER do what he did.  I could never move and start out my adult life with nothing to fall back on.

And so, I became educated to give myself a better start.  Once I graduated with my Masters from Franciscan University, married Phil and became pregnant a month later, I realized we were in an even worse spot than my dad, the poor young immigrant, had been.  Sure, he started out with nothing, but we were starting out $80,000 in debt.  

Suddenly, starting out with nothing actually sounded good!  

Friday, November 2, 2018

7 (Really) Quick Takes

It's a rainy Friday morning - still dark but full of promise because...

1)

I woke up to this beautiful email



Nothing on the calendar!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  What a rare treat!

2)

That means I should be able to check my long run off this week's training plan, but alas, the rain.  SO it's cross training at the gym instead.  Unless I can talk myself into running 9 miles of the dreadmill?  


Me, after mile 6, minus the happy dance.

Thursday, November 1, 2018

Halloween and All Saints 2018


We've got a CIA agent & Chase, Mickey & Minnie, Iron Man & Captain America.  Brendan was not letting me put up his hood, which has Mickey's face on it.  I was frustrated and complained the whole way to the pizza shop that I didn't get a good photo...and he would never be 2 again...and I just need a good photo on every holiday...and on and on.  Why does this mean so much to me?  It's like I can just see how fleeting time is, and while I'm pretty ok with my kids growing up and moving along, I need photos from when they are young to cry into.  Moms.  Ya know?