Where's Patrick?

There is a picture that was on my fridge for years. (It's in the family room now).

It was the cast of the TV show Sponge Bob Square pants at Universal Studios in California. Plus DN and the daughter of my friend in California. The kids look like rug rats. I think they were 7,8 & 9 ((respectively)

It's a great picture. M always says "one of our best pictures ever." In fact, every picture is compared to this one. "Not quite as good as the Sponge Bob picture". "Maybe second best to the Sponge Bob picture."

There is family down the street with the oldest being the same age as D. The youngest 4 years younger.

We would trade off bringing the kids home from school. Sometimes, we'd all have dinner together.

What I remember most about those "after school moments":

Every Tuesday, when the other kids would come to my house, one of the first things the younger child "C" would say: Ms. McIntosh, where is Patrick?

Patrick Starfish is a character in Sponge Bob. He was missing from the picture.

This went on for months.

Ms. McIntosh, where is Patrick?

I don't know. Was always my response.

Finally, months into our conversation, I finally replied:

He was sleeping that day. We didn't get our picture with him.

That was it. That answered satisfied his curiosity. He never asked me again about Patrick.


Flash forward: I met a guy named Patrick. Charming. Good looking. A million other things I could go on to describe.

I called C's mom, down the street.

Will you tell Cole, I found Patrick?

There was a car accident yesterday. An 82 year old woman was driving her car. We still don't know if she had a stroke, a mini heart attack or what.

She hit two teenagers on their bikes/skateboards.

It was in my neighborhood. An accident. It could have been my kid. It could have been me.

Monday, I had been on my bike and there were some boys on their skateboards/bikes with Slurpees riding down the street. After all, It was 7-11.

Cole was on his bike and waved to me.

Cole - I found Patrick.

Thank you for the inspiration.

Rest in Peace.

Fourth of July

For the first time in 8 years, I was in Denver, Colorado for the 4th of July.

24 years ago 4th of July, I arrived in Denver for the first time. While I've lived in Colorado ever since (except those 9 months in California) then, I haven't celebrated the 4th actually here in Denver.

The 4th marked another monumental day in my life.

I've now lived in Colorado longer than I lived in Texas.

I remember driving here all those years ago with my mom. She flew back on July 5th to Texas. That moment seems so long ago.

It also seems like yesterday.

I remember (and I might have told this story before) getting to the state line. We stopped. We took a picture of me in front of the "Welcome to Colorado" sign. I remember crying.

My mom said, "we can turn around."

I remember saying, "That's not why I'm crying.".........

After all, it's independence day.

Accosted

I had something interesting happen tonight and wanted to know if anyone else had something like this happen. A) if I could have handled differently? B) was I wrong?

There was a restaurant opening in Cherry Creek area of Denver. (high end area of Denver). Upscale steak house opening. The open house was 5- 7. Granted, it was crowded. It was loud – but you didn’t have to shout to talk to the person next to you.

Ambrose was AWESOME! He was right at my side. Was in down position – still working on him curling up. 99.9% of the people were great. Thanked me. Complimented him, etc.

It was getting a bit much, even for me. We went and stood near the front door. Off the main entrance, off the bar area. It was NOT crowded where we were.

This man comes up to me and says “How old is he?” I replied, “10 months, he’s in training.” He replied, “My wife is a vet and you are abusing this dog. This noise level is bad for his ears.”

I looked at him in complete shock! I said very nicely, “I appreciate your concern, but he needs to go to a variety of places as he will be assisting someone in all types of different environments.”

He then goes off: you are damaging his ears. AND – keeps going.

He walks off. (Apparently, he goes over to the hostess stand and asks them if they will make me leave since I’m “Abusing” the dog). (I didn’t find this part out until after the next part.)

He comes back.

He walks up and asks what organization in which I’m associated. I told him CCI. He then told me he was taking pictures and recording the noise level in the restaurant and would be calling them to let them know.

I asked him his name. He wouldn’t tell me. He asked me why I needed to know.

I then said, “So, if I were in a wheelchair and this was my service dog, helping me, you are telling me, I shouldn’t be allowed to come?”

He replies with “you are abusing this dog. Just because you want to be here doesn’t mean you have to torture your dog.”

I then say, “So, if I were in a wheelchair and this was my service dog, helping me, you are telling me, I shouldn’t be allowed to come?”  Again, in a normal voice.

I asked his name again. Still wouldn’t tell me.

He then starts taking pictures of us, telling me he’s calling “THIS ORGANIZATION”.

At this point, I reach to grab his phone – in which he tells me, “you can’t touch my phone.” I replied, “And, YOU don’t have my permission to use my picture.”

The hostess see this happen (we are by the front door) and escort him out of the restaurant.

The hostess apologized PROFUSELY!! I was SHAKING. I can’t even imagine if he was truly in service for me and this person had approached me.

Other than that one moment, people have been SOOOOO wonderful and gracious.

Oh and that other moment when Ambrose figured out how to take remote controls from the table……

Happy Independence Day……. My favorite holiday ever…..

Take it from me, pass it by

High roads. Low roads.

We have millions of miles across these great United States. In the last three weeks, I've driven over 3600 miles.

I was able to check off four states - four states, in the "I've never been there before" states.

Absolutely. You - everyone, should go see our wonderful United States of America. All of them.

During Phase I of the road trip, I was in Idaho and Montana. Two states I've never visited.

Phase II: Alabama and Mississippi.

As much as I've been restless in my life. As much as I've been bored. There is something to be said for where I live now.

I arrive back home in Denver, Colorado. Friends were gathering at a backyard cocktail party.

I pulled out of the parking lot at Denver International Airport, and all I could think was:

GOD BLESS AMERICA

This is the BEST city in the WHOLE world. It was 79 degrees, I took the top off the car. I swear to you, I wanted to stand up and sing.

If I EVER complain about this city again, everyone has permission to tell me: SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.

What a beautiful city.

Sometimes, we go searching for things. Sometimes, we shut those things down. Sometimes, we are offered cities to visit and we have to say: No Thanks.

Or we go.

And explore.

Then we come home. To the place where we were supposed to be all along.

Sometimes we say to ourselves: Did you find me, while you were looking for yourself out there?

Not you.

Me.

Sometimes, we catch a glimpse of an alternative universe.

How it would have turned out, if you had made a different choice.

Take it from me, pass it by.

I wish

I've started this story at least 12 times in the last 12 days.

I wish I coulda/woulda

• have known I turned out okay (but I always knew I would)
• believed 
• trained ((for everything - not only running)
• shoulda gone on an on. About all the things I shoulda/woulda/coulda done.

The thing I know most about life looking back?

Don't ever second guess yourself.

In the last 10 days - I drove 1800 miles. More miles than I've probably driven in the last 18 years put together.

Not once, in the last 10 days did I ever second guess this whole story.

I just wish, others. 

No. That's not it's.

This is the ending I can't wrap up.

I keep trying.

I just wish....

Oh, wait,

I wish the ending to the story.....

I wish....

Bad Decisions

Every single day, we make hundreds of decisions.

Split second second decisions. Long term decisions. Decisions we have been thinking about for a while.

We also all make bad decisions.

Should I turn left, instead of right?

You can spend your life second guessing.

I'm not one to keep up with "national news", but there is a story lately that is bothering me. Bothering me, to my core.

I'm not sure, if it bothers me because I'm female.

Or because I have sons.

I can't decide.

It's the story of the Standford guy whom raped a passed out girl.

We know his name. We don't her name - she's the victim.

Do we know his name because he was found guilty? Or did we know it before?

If it's after he was found guilty, I might be more okay with knowing his name.

IN MY OPINION,

We all make bad decisions.

And yes, "SHE, is going to have to live with HIS bad decision for the rest of her life."

HOWEVER, so is he.

What makes her loss any less than his loss of having to live with this bad decision.

She has to live with this everyday.

So does he.

But, to his defense - regardless, right or wrong, they both made bad decisions.

They both drank too much.

I'm going to stop there.

I'm not going to get into the fact of what happened next.

Once again, in my opinion,

He's being held responsible for his actions while under the influence. Is she being held accountable for her actions?

No - No one ever deserves to be raped.

No one ever deserves to be judged for the rest of their life for one bad decision.

Women have wanted equality for years.

Which bad decision should define your life?

My type

A girlfriend of mine was in town last week for work. She has been offered a job here in Denver. Stayed with me for the week while she was working.

She lives in Houston. Her family is there. Her parents are there. Her husbands parents are there too.

The plan is to come to Denver in July. One kid goes to college in August (side note - we are not possibly old enough to have kids going to college!!!!). The other two kids are in middle/high school.

The kids and husband will be here next summer.

We go to dinner. That is, my girlfriend, my dog and I. While she was here.

We were talking about "types". You know, the "what attracts you to someone type."

She declared: "I"m attracted to Tall, Dark and Handsome".

I laughed. She does have her type. Her husband is all of those things.

During dinner, she said, "Did you see the guy at the end of the bar?" I replied, "No". "Now that was my type."

Obviously, he wasn't "my type" or maybe I would have seen him.

My type? We discussed this at length. "I don't have "a type", I proclaimed.

I've loved them old.

young.

dark hair

blonde hair

short

tall

wealthy

poor

I concluded: "I don't really have a type. I've loved them all." I'm a "situational" romance kinda gal. If we like to do the same things, well, then, YOU are my type......

Until she said.......

"What do they all have in common?"  It took us both a couple of days. I awoke in the middle of the night with the answer.

Ah......

They are all perpetual bachelors.

Said, the bachelorette........