Grace and Insanity

Finally!

We moved into our house last Saturday, October 18. Most people my age (at least the saner ones) hire professionals to do the packing, lifting, and hauling. Since I have been declared insane by any number of people, I've chosen (or been forced into) a different path. So armed with a rental truck and an army of friends and family (including both sons-in-law) we cleared out the apartment and most of the storage unit and filled the house with boxes and furniture that looks much too shabby for the walls that now surround it. Reinforcements arrived around noon and the early birds headed off to salvage what was left of their weekend.
By sundown, I was whupped! I really am too old for this…

A friend from church brought dinner over to the house that evening. So there we were, gathered around the dinner table that we'd retrieved from storage, holding hands, ready to say grace and it hit me--we were home. An entirely overwhelming sense of gratitude swept over me with the effect that my prayer of thanksgiving sounded like the voice of an alien from my thick throat. But if I were asked to select the 10 best moments in my life, this would be near the top of the list.

I think my next move will be posthumous (just strap me to the appliance dolly and try not to scratch that corner in the hallway).

But wait, there's more. Sunday, October 19 was Amy's birthday. Her 50th. Wouldn't you think that by spending a quarter mil on her present that I'd done enough? Perhaps, but you forget…I'm insane. So two weeks ago when we were able to pin down the moving date, I started planning a surprise birthday party for her…at the house! A few hastily composed invitations passed out at church and a few emails to her co-workers did the trick. I made people fully aware of the situation, summed up with the statement, "It'll be chaos, but it'll be fun."

It was chaos. It was fun.

How often does something come off almost exactly the way it was envisioned? This sure did, thanks to a lot of help from Amy's sister Luanne, my Mom and lot of friends and family who brought refreshments and gifts. In all, about 70 people came! To be honest, I didn't expect half that many, but I was too busy to count the RSVPs. My top ten list of moments was now as crowded as the house.

We found out several things at that point.

1. The house can handle a party.

2. As good it looked up to that point, the house looked even better full of people.

3. I sometimes forget to take pictures at important events.

I suspect that many women would have been appalled at the prospect of having so many people over to the house with packing boxes all over the place and nothing but dirt in the yard.

But that's one of the things I love about Amy.

She is as insane as I am!

Amy's sister Leslie, Amy, my Mom, Amy's sister Luanne.

Amy and her Mom

Blowing out the candles

Success!

Insanity squared

John, Emily (are those my glasses?), Amy and I catch a breath after the party.

Thanks to Jacqueline Shirley who once worked at Hughes Aircraft with Amy and now works with me at Santa Ana College for the photographs.

On Hanging in There

I've been doing a lot of thinking these past few days about the notion of optimism and yesterday's post may have betrayed my natural inclinations on the subject.

So it was good therapy yesterday to follow up on a tip that I caught reading Sports Illustrated in the waiting room of my doctor's office. When I got back to the house, I retrieved a bookstore gift card from last Christmas and purchased The 33-Year-Old Rookie. By the end of the afternoon, I'd finished it.

If the films Bull Durham or The Rookie resonated with you at all, I'd recommend this story without hesitation. Chris Coste (pronounced "Coast") spent 11 years in baseball's minor leagues. Normally a player who hasn't made the major leagues after 5 or 6 years in the minors starts looking at other career paths.

There are several refreshing aspects to this book. One is that Chris wrote it without the help of a ghostwriter. He also clearly appreciates how fortunate he is to play baseball for a living. He has faith in his ability, but he seems to do so without ego. And while baseball locker rooms and dugouts are certainly not repositories of good taste and polite conversation, Chris does a good job of keeping the vulgarities to a minimum without excessively sanitizing the atmosphere. I'm encouraging my 11-year-old son to read it.

And even though Chris doesn't play for the Angels, or even the Dodgers, I'll be rooting for him.