Story #9 of the 100 Day Project:  Exercise-ish

Were some people born with an exercise gene? It kinda seems like it sometimes. I think my DNA coded energy, but exercise? Not so much. I’ve taken classes, joined a gym, and enjoy waking and being active, but do I LOVE actual exercising? No. “Runner’s High?” Only when making it to the gate in the nick of time, after a mad dash through the airport.

This leads me to find little ways to fool myself into thinking I can make a difference 5 minutes at a time: Doing push-ups on the countertop, leg lifts while watching travel shows. My latest trick is a $7 rubber band that sits on the counter. While waiting for the microwave or eggs to fry, I can step in and burn a calorie or two. Nowhere near enough to mitigate whatever is coming out of the oven, but it feels like something positive. It’s a cheap and easy way to feel the burn. Just remember to step out of the band before moving to turn off the timer or grab a boiling pot. Don’t ask me how I know this. 

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Story #8 of the 100 Day Project: Sniffles

Our dog came to us when my dad decided to bring her home one night after work (and probably a beer or 6.) He didn’t ask my mom, just showed up with a puppy in a box. Of course, we were thrilled...but as is often typical, the job of training a dog falls to Mom.

Ol’ Sniffles wasn’t exactly the easiest to housebreak and there were days that my mom would get exasperated and would threaten a one-way ticket to a farm. For Sniffles. Not my dad. I think? Maybe.

In this snapshot, Sniffles joined us on vacation to Ocean City. She even packed her own nightgown! We were staying at Kristi Caw's family's trailer, which we rented a few times. We’d pack up the Volare’ station wagon, crank up the AM radio and roll down the windows for the ride. With sounds of 70s music and my dad tracking the Smokies on his CB radio, Susan and I would fold down the middle seat and stretch out on sleeping bags, eating packed snacks and sandwiches. Nary a seatbelt in sight.
Sniffles wore clothes, went on trips, and was forced to run through our created obstacle courses. She was our first pet and I think we gave her a good life in the suburbs...never to the farm.

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Story #7 of the 100 Day Project: Passports

This is my sweet Rowan, now 16, who was almost 3 in this photo. It was his first trip to see our family in Austria. We had a layover in Atlanta and then on to Munich. When we boarded our flight, I had a carry on, Rowan and two additional kids in tow. As I made my way to the back of the plane with my traveling circus, I got everyone settled, bags stowed and sat down in my seat, somewhat exasperated, but relieved to be seated for our 7 hour flight.

As is my practice, I put everyone’s passports in my special folio. Counting. Always counting. 1-2-3-....wait. Three? Count again. 1-2-3. Yep. Three. I frantically open each one to see who is missing. I had them all when we boarded, as the agent checks them at the podium. It’s Rowan’s that is MIA. I jump up and walk the aisle, “Excuse me” and “Pardon Me”-ing my way to the front of the plane, checking the floor. Nothing. It’s gone. How is this possible?

I went back to our seats and went through my bag again. Nope. It’s gone. Maybe someone found it somewhere and turned it in? I’m sure that’s it. I’ll ask the flight attendant. She looks nice. She’s got a cute smile and friendly — OH. MY. GOD. Never ask the flight attendant. We’ve been raised to ask the “helpers.” That’s what Mr. Rogers said. But apparently flight attendants are NOT helpers. Because in my time of desperation and need, she told me we needed to get off the plane. I’ve never gone into shock, but I almost feigned a heart attack and was willing to be shocked by a defibrillator just to stay on that plane. We bought tickets. We were in Atlanta. My cousin was waiting for us. I wanted to cry. Being the dutiful traveler, I always made copies of our passports. Can’t we just go to the embassy and sort this out when we arrive? The answer to that is a hard no. All I could think was that (a) this is not happening (b) these are NOT the friendly skies and (c) the schnitzel in Atlanta probably sucks.

Mere seconds before we were booted from the plane, I walked the aisle one more time, going to the door and back. As I walked through First Class (because I only EVER have WALKED through first class), a woman stood up and said, “I’m sitting on something! Is this what you’re looking for?” OMG. THE PASSPORT. Still warm from her ample rump. Usually I just give the lucky ducks in first class the side-eye, but I wanted to straight up kiss her. Who cares if her husband objected. This woman saved our trip!

The moral of this story is, unless you’re having chest pain or slurred speech (not from the pre-boarding hooch you enjoyed), TELL THE ATTENDANT NOTHING. Get where you wanna go and then sort it out. They may look cute in their uniforms, but they’ll straight up throw an adorable, innocent toddler off a plane in a strange city. No joke.

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Story #5 of the 100 Day Project: Quarantine Surprise

Because our patients are nearly all COVID positive, I've been distancing as much as humanly possible, outside of work. I sleep in the spare room, don't hug anyone, never wear my scrubs into the house and don't even bring my shoes inside. It's been hard. And Elsie is growing SO fast, I feel as though I'm missing so much. Olivia gave me the sweetest surprise today and came to the patio for a distanced visit. The first time I've seen them in six weeks. We are all making sacrifices in our own way and I hope that, when this is all over, we treasure the "normal" in a way we didn't appreciate before. Maybe the good that comes of this will be that our perspective changes and gratitude grows for the little things we took for granted in 2020 BC (Before COVID).

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DAY FOUR:  Chatty

My report card comment from fifth grade had some nice things to say, but ended on a somewhat sour note. I’m sure I was chatty back then, as I can be now, but was it REALLY that bad to warrant a mention? Apparently yes, though I seem to just remember myself as “friendly.”

But what I love most about this gem is the fact that one Johanna White (my mom) went BIG TIME FANCY. This was the year she took calligraphy lessons and she sure as heck wasn’t letting that $15 go to waste! She broke out that ol’ nibbed pen and let it be known that she was taking my behavior SURRIOUS. Like India Ink, italics, “SHE HAS BEEN TOLD” kind of SURRIOUS.

I’ll also point out that this was the year Jo went rogue feminism and signed her own name. Previously, she signed as “Mrs. Donald White.” I’m not kidding. Like women had no name of their own. It’s amazing, really. I like to imagine that she signed this late one night, after washing the cast iron frying pan with SOAP, against orders (*see Day One story). So much history is contained in these little bits of life. ❤️

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DAY THREE: Bonus Stacey Story Saturday! 

This is our third grade class picture, the year we became friends. We joined the same Girl Scout troop as well. As part of scouting, we did the usual cookie sales and badge projects, and our 50 cents dues each week funded camping trips and volunteer efforts.

To our surprise, we received an ENGRAVED invitation from Governor Schaefer to a tea honoring volunteers. A. TEA! We didn’t even like tea, but we’d be darned if we’d miss an opportunity to eat a biscuit with the Guv’nuh!

We shopped for new dresses and paired them with some fancy shoes. We even bought NEW NYLONS. To this day, I’m not sure why we didn’t realize that an event being held at the old Baltimore Civic Center wasn’t going to be up close and personal. Did our mothers know and not want to burst our bubble? Imagine our surprise when we showed up to the “tea” with approximately 10,000 other people and sat in section Z500, row TT.

FUN FACT: We also saw our first concert, Shaun Cassidy, at the Civic Center. He jumped through a big paper poster and ripped his pants. Governor Schaefer’s pants, however, remained intact throughout the tea.

We still snort about getting all gussied up and having Stacey’s mom drag us downtown for a bunch of speeches, a cup of KoolAid, and a single Murray’s sugar cookie.

#theyoungandtheclueless #worththedecadesoflaughs

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DAY TWO of the #The100DayProject: Stacey

The most difficult part about telling the story of our FORTY-FIVE year friendship is narrowing it down to something less than 1,000 pages. I’d love to know how many of those years were spent laughing. I’m not good at the maths, but my calculations gave me 44.5 years. Approximately.

One time when we were like 11, we decided to take her canoe out on the creek behind her house. What could go wrong? I mean, we had earned our boating badge in Girl Scouts. Her older brother, Mark, didn’t seem to honor that certification when he came stomping down to the water’s edge with a face far too stern for a 15-year-old gentleman. As punishment, he made us carry the canoe back up the hill on our heads. He didn’t find the laughter appropriate. Apparently we could have drowned or something...despite also having our SWIMMING BADGE.

Then there was the time we decided to make oatmeal face masks in her mom’s kitchen. We slathered on the concoction we read about in “Teen” magazine and closed our eyes. Then, OUT. OF. NOWHERE. I felt a splat on the side of my head. Stacey had hurled a fistful of the goo right at me. No warning. Not even a snicker. It was on like Donkey Kong and we had a full-on mask fight in her kitchen. I think her mom found dried oatmeal like 4 months later behind a wall hanging.

In this photo, we’re wearing matching shirts we had made with “OoLaLa” ironed on them. Can’t imagine why we didn’t garner more attention from the fellas at the mall. I mean, what with the braces, comb in the back pocket of our jeans, and scent of Love’s Baby Soft and Oxy10. Not that we cared. We were strictly there for photo booths and chocolate.

We had so many sleepovers. We’d put hot rollers in our hair, eat Sour Cream & Onion Doritos, watch “Dallas” and decide when to preheat the bed with her high-tech electric blanket.

The raciest thing we ever did was throw two eggs at a neighbor’s house. The dad was sitting right at the window with the light on. I can still picture him! It’s not like we disliked them. We were so dumb! We even ran right back to her house, like 100 feet away! So amateur.

She was my Ride-or-Die before it was a thing. Unless we were trying to get up Joppa Farm Rd on our bikes. Then she was my Push-or-Die.

We still leave each other voicemails that are absolutely unintelligible. They are one of us gasping, saying a word (barely), snorting, whispering, laughing, and finally giving up. I’ve saved them and play them because they’re worth more to me than that pair of hand-me-down Calvin Klein jeans she gave me.

Our stories often included the phrase “We should save our money...” So many plans. We still say it and we still have schemes and dreams. We keep each other young and, so often, sane. Years later, I’d still choose her to sing “White Coral Bells” with, accompanied by burping from reflux. ❤️

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100 Days of Storytelling

Today is the first day of #The100DayProject. Pick a way to be creative, a habit you’d like to form, etc and make time for it daily over the next 100 days. This is my very first attempt at this project and I’m super excited. I’ve tossed around SO many ideas, but have settled on 100 stories.

My line of work gives great perspective on the fragility of life. Memorials are often filled with beautiful tributes and stories, AFTER the loved one is gone. My goal is to document 100 stories from my childhood, about family and friends, etc. I’m really looking forward to documenting the details that make a life. 

Day One: I made this chocolate chip pizookie recipe last night (pictured above, with pieces missing to demonstrate its irresistibility). It’s made in a cast iron frying pan. This made me think of my dad’s LOVE of a cast iron pan. For creamed chipped beef or hot dogs and stewed “duhmaydas” - it was the go-to pan. But what really sticks in my mind is how my mom would REPEATEDLY wash it with soap and water. Despite his ranting and raving about it being “seasoned”, she would still fill it with warm soapy water! I don’t know if she legitimately forgot about his over-the-top speeches or if it was a housewife’s power play, but it still makes me laugh. SHE LEGITIMATELY WASHED IT WITH SOAP FOR LIKE 20 YEARS! 😂 I love that little things like this can stay with you for decades. These are the stories I want to remember. ❤️

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