Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Check Out My New Ringtone

Washington called last night.
My United States Senator called my house to congratulate my son on his United States Military Academy appointment. It was the first official news we had heard regarding his "official" appointment, and it was way cool receiving the news in such a dramatic way.
Routinely checking the answering machine messages, I recognized the United States Senator's voice speaking in my hallway. The first response was joy. The second was... figures we would miss this call. But, after screaming for the whole family to come quickly and having time to process , I was thrilled to have the recording... which we immediately recorded digitally, which we made into a CD, of which we are considering making a ringtone, or perhaps, even broadcasting over a loud speaker from the roof of our historic 1920's Tudor house!
There is no way to take in the significance of the moment. West Point receives 10,000 applications per year, of those 4,000 get Congressional nominations... and only 1000 are accepted into each class. My son will be one of those elite one thousand. I just have to boast because I have never had anything so significant happen in my life ever.
We all have "mountain peak" moments. Setting the state high jump record in the 10th grade was probably my first. Getting married, moving into our first house, the births of 3 sons. This is one, and I have to admit, I've needed a moment like this. I simply feel happy for me and excited for Clayton to be meeting the goal he has had since 9th grade face-to-face... and I am very, very proud.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Bicycle Regret

Someone stole my bicycle, and that's really mean. It was a brand-new bike that was found at my favorite neighborhood shop called Hillcrest Junk Company. It still had the spikey- things coming out of the tires. I paid $30 for it and felt like God gave it to me as a special gift.
When spring comes I will be sad about my bike--again. I probably won't spend the money on another one. I only took the time to ride it twice.
I know it's not murder or having a gun put in my face or physical harm coming to me or something extremely traumatic. It was simply a bicycle. But it was my bicycle. And now I'm sad.
I wish now that I had put it on my car's bike rack, taken it down to the River Trail more often. There were some sunny afternoons when its shiny blue paint called out to me, but I did not listen.
No fond memories of time spent together, wind in my hair; I am left, instead, with incredible bicycle regret.