Sunday, June 16, 2013


My Father's Father was  part of the first generation of his Family born in America.  The Maslankowski's had immigrated from Poland, had their name shortened by a boss who felt 12 letters was 6 too many to mess with, and had made their way to Chicago by the time John Florian Maslan met my Gram- a gorgeous Italian whose family was none too happy about her marrying an older man... especially one from POLAND!

Gelda Panateri and John Maslan
So lovely.   

My Mother's Father was born into a large family between the coal mines and farm fields of Southern Illinois.  He was a rowdy boy who wanted to run away and become a 'Bo-Ho' :-) He was too young to be drafted for the war, and while the older boys were away he snagged the heart of the town beauty and moved from the red dirt town of Mulkeytown, population 200, all the way to the big city of St. Louis.

Sarah Francis Annear and Owen Dean Furlow
So Gorgeous.

My amazing Father was born in Chicago- in the midst of 5 other brothers and 1 Sister.  Between  Big City Shenanigans, the Vietnam War, getting tossed then re-admitted to ISU and convincing the sweet 17 year old Freshman  to skip class for a burger at Steak and Shake, he turned into quite an awesome man.  When I think of what I have from him- my love of music and dancing,  my crazy wild fashion sense, the constant craving for change and to be on the move... not to mention my dark hair and eyes, Maslan nose, and love of rye bread,... I'm hopeful I inherited all that and more.  My daddy can speak to anyone, and walk away with a new friend.  He's kind.  He makes everyone feel included and part of the fun.  He's got a keen sense of the Greater purpose and a knowledge and wisdom of what is True and what is simply filler.  I love him and can remember singing and dancing in our kitchen, riding bikes, playing the trumpet, singing hymns in the car, and driving lessons in our enormous chevy caprice classic. Dancing with him at my wedding, holding on tight at his momma's funeral.  crying in his arms about Abe's diagnosis.  He's held every grand-baby within hours of their birth.  

how beautiful my mom and dad are- he so dark and handsome, she so fair and pretty in her mini-wedding dress. 

We are who we are because they were who they were.... pronoun crazy, but you get it, right? 

I am so thankful for the Father's I have known, the Father I have, the Husband who is an amazing Father :-)

Wishing all the daddy's in the world a wonderful day tomorrow! 


Thursday, June 13, 2013


 whew.  i was going through withdrawal.  noticing little twitches and aches as I used the Husband's computer, working  hard not to download, upload, or forget to close the 7 tabs i like to keep open at all times.... don't want to miss anything, ya know?? He was all good about sharing... so long as I didn't drop a crumb within a 3 foot radius, have my ever present cup of coke zero within spillage range, etc etc.   just kidding.... mostly :-)

Any who.  It's back... and wiped clean. 
no pictures, no data, no nothing.
 I had last backed up (right? girl you look good, whydon'tcha back that thing up) my computer in november of 2012.  I'm trying not to cry about it... but i'm crying.   That means that 7 months of my babies life in pictures is gone.  They tried everything short of the $800 machine somethingorother in Arizona.
 Fine.  I'm fine.  fine.  

There's too much to try and cram in a catch-up post, so I'm just starting here and moving forward.  
I'm here. 
I'm breathing deeply. 

I can walk as fast as I can run.

Ok, not *exactly* but pretty darn close.  
I ran a few times in the last few weeks and my hips hurt.  really hurt.  and so, because I'm working on making wise, future conscious decisions, I've decided to return to my speed-walking roots... and by roots I mean that somewhere in my past I used to walk quickly and I'm doing it again and so therefore... whatever. 

I love It allows me to go where the mood ( and the crazy derecho wind) takes me  and see how far I've gone once I come home.  Yes.  I know there are apps that would tell me that mid-walk/run, however, I'm focusing more on not focusing <---- you get it, right?  so I come home, relax, and after a bit, check my mileage.  Turns out that tonight I walked 2. 73 miles in 29:22.  yep.  and my hips feel GOOD! it's a win win!! Another win?? My trusty heart rate monitor let me know that I had burned 339 calories in under 30 minutes!  chatted with the neighbors, came in, did a bit o lifting and got the babies to sleep.  

As I was holding my big kid close on the couch, soothing out the awful bedtime blues we've developed, I tried to wrap my head around walking vs. running.  You'd think that i would have learned this lesson many, many moons ago- physically and mentally.  Running *seems* glamorous.   The bodies are gorgeous, the shoes are colorful and sleek, the wind in your hair, the heart pounding playlists, the crazy themed 5 & 10Ks .    Nike and Pinterest don't have the slick, glossy slogan blazing ads for walking.   

and a little, small, hurting, sad and angry part of me said that this- this running stereotype that leaves out the grit and the pain and the hours of dedication, blisters, fractures, and mental strength. this surface glimpse-  this is what a neuro-typical life is like... and walking, this slower paced, glam-less life is for those of us who were dealt a different hand.  a non-neuro typical life.  

wrong.  that's wrong.  You can't run?  

Who cares?!! 

 <--- me obviously, at times, but I'm GETTING OVER IT. 

I am thankful to walk.   Physically, I am so very, very thankful for legs that work, for lungs that keep me oxygenated and a heart that pumps and arms that swing and the SWEAT that comes when I walk quickly. 
 Mentally-  I am thankful for this life that I have.
  I am thankful for my amazing, amazing babies. 
  I am thankful that they are teaching me over and over and over (because I am apparently the slowest learner of this subject ever in the whole world, or at least tonight) that this life is what you make it.  That YOU make the playlist.  YOU buy the shoes - Holla!! and YOU set the pace.  

got it?  

go forth, sweet friends, and make it amazing.