One Pint At aTime

 

As a kid, I remember watching my dad place a little red teardrop shaped pin at the top of a curtain that hung at the bottom of my grandparents staircase. I’m not sure how old I was, but I know that I had a feeling that this pin was special, that it meant something. It wasn’t until years later, that I learned that those little pins represented the blood my dad had donated to the Red Cross. I thought he was quite the superhero dad! When I asked dad how much blood he had donated over the years, he wasn’t totally sure, but his humble answer was, “a couple of gallons”.  I have a cool dad. 

 Inspired by this, when I was in high school, we had the opportunity to participate in a blood drive, and I gave it a try. Feeling incredibly nervous and worried that I would pass out or throw up, I entered the gymnasium where the tables were lined up and the volunteers were ready to take our blood. Aside from all the bad vampire jokes, I honestly don’t remember it being that bad, and I actually did quite well with it, but out of an unfounded anxiety over needles and fainting, I did not donate again until October 2020. The world was in the midst of Covid and it just felt like something positive I could do. Time to overcome those fears! 

Since then, I’ve tried to donate a total of 14 times with only 8 times being able to do so as the finger stick hemoglobin needs to be 12.5 g/dL or above and I didn’t always hit the mark. It can get discouraging when you’re doing all you can (even taking Flintstone Vitamins with Iron 😖) to do something good and time after time, it doesn’t work out. 

 Four years. It’s been nearly four years and between the low hemoglobin, getting a tattoo, and then donation centers changing their times and I couldn’t line it up with my schedule, I finally hit my first gallon of A+ donated!! 

I could have given up when 3x in a row I was too low and couldn’t donate. I could’ve decided to stop altogether when it became difficult to find the time in my schedule to go.  Getting a tattoo was a valid reason not to go for the specified time period, but I could have somehow allowed that become an ongoing excuse as it had disrupted my routine. 

I can’t…I don’t have time…it’s not convenient. Reminds me a little of everyday life and how easy it is to make excuses when the going gets difficult. 

If I’d given up, I’d never have reached a gallon. What is you’re “gallon” that you’re working towards? Don’t give up now. Make a plan and take the steps to get to the next step. After donating last evening, I scheduled my next two appointments and penciled all the tentative dates for next year in my planner. That gallon didn’t just happen; it was one pint at a time. 

Alas, the Red Cross no longer give out pins but they do sometimes send you an Amazon gift card. I saw a vender has some vintage pins for sale on eBay… think they’d take an Amazon gift card in exchange? 

Onward, Dianne

Reuniting with a Friend

 

4 August, 2024

Where does one begin when you are suddenly face-to-face with a long-lost friend? Do you just pretend like nothing ever happened and you just pick up where you left off the last time you were together? Does it get all awkward when you don’t know where to begin and so you just randomly start to talk? Do you ignore the obvious changes in the other person or do you ask about it? (Those grays coming in and a few added wrinkles…I’m a grandma-aka Nana-now!!) Whatever the case, returning back to vintageDandelion felt like running into that old friend who I hadn’t really forgotten, but maybe I had avoided for a time and now being face-to-face, it was a little awkward and time to figure out why it’s taken so long to reconnect. 

During the early years (2011-2013), writing had become therapeutic for me. It was a way that I found to talk about life and to see things in a healthier perspective; I would look for what I could learn, or how to make it positive. My brain tried to make me believe that life was at its worst, that I was the worst mom, wife, nurse, etc. Really, it wasn’t at all rational; rather, it was anxiety giving me one punch after the other. If you’ve lived with anxiety, you know what I mean. Somehow when I would write, I could make sense of things, and I realized that I was surrounded by so much that was beautiful and good. I could be honest, I could be real.  I wrote because I wanted people to know that who they saw in person was the person that I truly was when I was alone, who I was on the inside. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but this blog helped me to be authentic to the person I was created to be.

Reading back to that day in December 2011, I wasn’t really sure how writing a blog would go. I wasn’t sure if I had anything worthwhile to say, but I knew I had to try. Honestly, I’d look at the stats and sometimes I’d base my value on that. Likes, shares, etc…it’s an easy trap to fall into, eh? When I allowed my blog to dwindle down slowly to nothing, it had little to do with feeling like I had anything to say, and a lot to do with thinking all those irrational things that my brain would tell me: that what I wrote was boring, that nobody really cared, and really, what was the point? 

Even getting through so many struggles and having learned so much, all that just goes to show that I am still learning, growing, and becoming. I’m a work in progress, layered and nuanced. I’m still that woman from 2011, but I’m also not the same. Whether you’re an old friend, or a new one, if you’re here, I’m glad you’re along for the ride! And even if I’m the only one who reads what I wrote in 1, 5, 10, or even 50 years from now, I’m okay with that. Rereading bits of my story is what inspired me to write again; I want to remember and reflect. If I don’t write it down, that old friend may be entirely forgotten. I don’t have a specific destination in mind, but if you’re up for a little adventure, you’re welcome here anytime. We have SOOO much catching up to do! 

Love, Dianne

It’s got me thinking…

From 2011…

…to 2024

 1 August 2024

I read recently that the trend of today is not to read the written word, but to watch videos, small clips, reels, stories…all the things that have made social media what it is today.  What is ironic is that I “read “that opinion. It got me thinking .

On that same day, I was asked a question about what I would be doing for an occupation if I wasn’t doing what I was currently? My initial thought, without much reflection, is that I would be an author. It got me thinking.

I mentioned to the person who asked me the occupation question that I had once written a blog, and I shared the link. It has been quite awhile since I have visited this site and I clicked on Dec 2, 2011 to see what my 41-year-old self had to say. And then I kept reading, seated in the very same spot where I had been that cold December day to write my first blog post. I looked different, my kitchen was different, and my household dynamic has changed from two parents and five children ranging an age from 8 to 20 all living under one roof, to an empty nest that is anything but empty.

Will anybody read my written words from 2011, or from 2024? Will it even matter someday? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll never know, but I know that I enjoyed looking over and rereading from that time in my life, what I was living, thinking, feeling.  I am glad that I have a written word to remind me of where I’ve been, who I was, and how that has helped me to be who I am today. I am a little sad that I haven’t written anything since 2020 in this format. Maybe vintage dandelion is still a place to inspire me to inspire you. It’s got me thinking; I hope it gets you thinking too. 

Love, Dianne

The Woods and I

When I was about 5 1/2 years old in 1976, we moved to our newly built home out in The Cove. Part of our property was woods but I don’t remember at what age I and my two sisters began to explore and play amongst the trees. Once we did discover this magical place though, with its fern-covered slopes, the mossy rocks underfoot, and the wild grape vines dangling from the trees, we spent countless hours there. 

We delighted in finding the ghostly Indian pipes emerging from the soil and watching the ferns unfurl in the Spring. The earthy, sweet green scent of ferns is still a favorite of mine along with soil that has been gently disturbed. Soon, my sisters and I had a few paths established in our little woods and we felt quite adventurous if we ventured to where the house wasn’t really visible through the foliage. Our dolls would occasionally accompany us and we had a favorite log that became a living room couch, and a rock a stovetop. Purple inkberries made a colorful stew mixed in an ice-ream bucket with a few leafy additions, and some crushed acorns for protein. We never tried our concoction; the fun was in the pretending and creating. Sometimes we’d find orange spotted newts, odd-looking beetles, and once, tp my sister’s horror, an entire nest of yellow jackets. Many hours were spent picking wild blackberries (these we did eat!), climbing pine trees, creating blanket houses, and seeing how quietly we could walk through the woods. Sweet and wonderful memories!

 

Then , somewhere along the way, as life often goes, I got busy, too busy. It was with good things like friends, a boyfriend (yes, I married him), jobs, and school. The days of make-believe ad playing house, looking for wood elves, and swinging on wild vines slowly morphed  into the reality of a real house with a mortgage and bills, having babies and raising children, going to college, starting a career, and then working 1-3 jobs at a time for too many years. Life became more about staying afloat than feeling alive. Depression was a beast and anxiety it’s nasty companion. I spent too much time under their shadow, not knowing that there was help to come back to the land of the truly living. Once I had the help I needed, the person I was meant to began to slowly emerge. 

I feel like the person I am today is a result of my experiences as a child, the years spent struggling mentally and emotionally, and the steps I have taken since to not allow anxiety and depression to take over again. The past three years have been an exploration of learning to take care of myself physically, and in turn, I   saw how it affected my mental state of being. 

  

Getting outdoors to walk, then deciding I could be a runner, and now adding hiking and eventually backpacking with the goal of doing all 70 miles of the Laurel Highlands Hiking Trail next year, is my therapy. I feel like I have come out of the shadows and am living more fully then I would’ve ever thought possible when I was a little girl in the woods making inkberry soup. 

I have tasted life and it is good! 

 

I know I have posted a lot of my runs, my hikes, and other fitness adventures on Facebook. The reason I do this is to hopefully encourage others to get out there too. If 50 year old, fluffy Dianne, who was NEVER an athlete, and not particularly graceful, can get out there, so can you. Find what you love, what brings joy, and do it. 

  

Ol’ Red

Pretty much every farm that I know of has a farm truck. Or if not a pickup truck, a vehicle of some variety that is specified as the beat-up, dusty (both inside and out), animal-or-hay-bale-hauling mode of transportation with a miscellaneous collection of nuts, bolts, tools, and equipment manuals on the passenger side floorboard and possible grass growing in the bed. Our current farm truck is Ol’ Red, a 1997 F150 Ford with who-knows-how-many miles on it because the odometer is stuck. Leo didn’t think it had a ridiculous amount of miles, but what it might lack in mileage, it makes up for in personality.

I learned this quite intimately over that past couple of weeks while the Nissan was undergoing extensive repairs. The Nissan and I are not currently on speaking terms. I actually feel more bonded to Ol’ Red after just three weeks than I am with the Nissan after two years. That one doesn’t even have a name; that says a lot.

Some people have said that I am a little quirky (or a lot depending on who you talk to!). Maybe that is why I connected so well with Ol’ Red. Quirky is just the tip of the iceberg on this farm truck. When you need specific, multi-step instructions on starting it, beyond “turn the key”, you know you’re in for a wild ride.
1.) Wiggle the gear shift so it goes into neutral or it won’t start. Turn the key and it should start.
2.) Step on the brake and now go into drive.
3.) Release the parking brake. But when you go to park it (or rather put it into more like neutral again) , do not forget to put the parking brake back on or the truck will roll away. “Park” apparently isn’t a thing anymore with Ol’ Red.
4.) Just leave the key in the cup holder when you are done.

Simple, right? I have become a pro at starting up, but I have forgotten to release the parking brake one or two times. Oops. Why does it smell hot? Hmmm. And Step #4? One time I brought the key into the house and promptly lost the ONLY key in existence for Ol’ Red. We looked everywhere except for obviously the right spot; to date this key is still MIA. Leo had to purchase a whole new ignition set-up. I guard that key like it is diamond encrusted gold.

A quirk that is not Ol’ Red’s fault is that this new key does not match the door locks. I learned that after locking myself out at Life Fitness Management. I needed to get to the college for clinic and could not wait for Triple A to rescue me. I remembered the little window behind the seats. It had just enough room for my body to wriggle in head-first to my hips and I could reach to unlock the door before wriggling in reverse to get myself back out. I am a little afraid that it looked more like twerking but I am trying not to think about that. Ol’ Red didn’t seem to mind all the commotion but if he had, I am sure there would have been a loud, very sudden horn blast. That’s another quirk. I can’t say how many times I have barely touched the steering wheel and a warning blasts out to innocent bystanders. 

Yes, that’s the little window!

While the horn works very well, there are other important, rather necessary features that do not. Like the gas gauge, speedometer, and engine temp. NONE of these work. I am always on empty, driving 0 mph, with a cold, cold engine. This makes following the speed limit a matter of following another car that looks reasonable in speed  and hoping for the best. I feel like a rebel at times. Rolling down the window enhances this rebel mode as the wind whips my hair into a frenzy. However , window-down mode is a matter of survival on hot days as the AC is also nonfunctional. Any air coming forth from the vents was akin to dragon’s breath. Any time I needed the window up, like making phone calls for work by the side of the road and the traffic noise made it difficult to hear, induced much perspiration. 

I lost 6.2 pounds of sweat. 

Dear, sweet Ol’ Red, the Nissan is back in my life now, repaired and revving to go. But I will miss you; you served me well. Maybe we can do it again sometime. I am sure the Nissan will see to that.

Love,
Dianne

The Muddy Buddies

Ever since May 2017, I have wanted to do some kind of mud run. At the time, I was going to physical therapy for my shoulder and was still wearing the immobilizer  and had at least another six weeks in a sling when I heard some people talking about Mud on The Mountain at Seven Springs. I decided to add this to my bucket list. Crazy sure, but why not? Something in me wanted that challenge and I was not ready to throw in the towel at age 47, shoulder or not.

May 2018 rolled around and I did not feel like I could manage a lot of the obstacles. I was afraid of re-injuring my shoulder. I was afraid I couldn’t do the climbing, reaching, crawling required. I was afraid that my upper body strength would be the loser on a TV show called, “Can you beat your 5 year old at arm wrestling?” So, I let my dream pass me by for another year and the bucket list was set aside.

May 2019. Would this be the year for that mountain of mud? Well, I was going to a wedding the day of the Seven Springs event, so I had to once again cross it off my agenda. BUT, I had found another muddy event and I signed up for it. This one sounded doable for my beginner self. This one was all about women, princesses if you will, of all ages, sizes and fitness levels. The focus was on fun, not time or what you couldn’t do.

Here we go Muddy Princess Pittsburgh PA!!! With my Muddy Buddies teammates Debby and Heather, and cheerleader Adrienne, we left Salisbury and made our way to Switchback Mountain in Butler PA. The sun was warm, the sky an amazing blue, and with all the rain we have been having, there was sure to be plenty of mud for everyone!

I don’t want to forgot about the other pair of friends that came along: my first pair of official trail running shoes. They arrived at my door two years ago and after all we had been through together, I thought this would be a fitting place to say “goodbye”. They had served me well, never complaining at my whining and mental unloading, and bearing the brunt of my heavy footsteps on the days I carried burdens. This would not be the first encounter with mud, but it would be their last.

Before the race...I’ve got the pink laces...

...and after!

After parking the car, we made our way into the starting place to pick up our packets. There was a mix of excitement, nervousness, and joy. We were totally going to do this!! 

I think we could pass as Charlie’s Angels! What a feeling of empowerment for me to be facing a challenge and knowing I had support and friends to get me through. 

We waited and watched as other groups lined up and headed out and soon we were in the corral. We warmed up and then we were off to the MUD! The first challenge for me was getting past the fact that the water may be cold. I hate cold water. A lot. But I was pleasantly surprised by the tepid muddy water and jumped in feet first! As the mud encased my shoes and hugged my calves, I just hoped I wouldn’t lose a shoe. Debby, Heather and I stuck together as we slogged and slid our way down the rutted path with potholes to surprise you at random steps. 

The laughter was mixed with fierce determination and somehow getting mud in your face was totally okay! We had agreed not to run, but to just have fun and finish and that is just what we did! For each of us, we had an obstacle that was our “challenge” and one we celebrated the most. I have TERRIBLE balance and a simple winding, uneven balance beam that I mostly completed felt like a huge victory. The other one was a straight up tire wall. I am not a fan of heights and have a fear of falling and being injured. So, to climb up and over, clinging to tires that weren’t totally stationary, with nothing but my body keeping me from falling, was an accomplishment that left me feeling like I was a Princess Warrior. Debby conquered the teeter totter obstacle without falling and her joy was contagious. Heather climbed a crazy steep hill, using a rope at the top for assistance, got to the top of the tire wall, and was in general, a BEAST! I couldn’t have had better teammates. 

WARNING: Lots of pictures ahead! May involve copious amounts of mud, contagious joy, and may inspire you to do your own muddy obstacle course. Proceed at your own risk!

Heather nearly losing her shoe at feeling quite stuck! I was there if she needed a hand, but she is  one determined woman! She got her footing and was able to get onto the platform. Go Girl! 

When you are splashed in mud and who knows what else, and it’s in your mouth and you don’t care! And it inspires a friend to say, “ You can wipe your mouth on any part of me that is clean!!” 

“We are capable of doing so much more than we think we can. Our bodies were made for more”~Debby
 

“It was so worth every bruise and scrape...Thanks ladies for the experience...I loved it and can’t wait to see what kind of stuff my future holds...I am so confident now. I want to try so much more! Thanks for the encouragement...You ladies rock!
Heather, YOU ROCK!! 

“I love that we did this, that I did this. Too often I allow my fears and anxiety to hold me back. Today, I didn’t. I faced each obstacle with the mindset of ‘just go for it and don’t hold back’. The top of this wall was a little terrifying for me but I knew I could dig deeper within myself. And with friends there to yell support, I did it and I felt amazing!” 

Today I learned more about these amazing women: 
Debby, you are an encourager like no other. You smiled your way through the entire course and had a kind work for just about everybody we met. 
Heather, you have a gentle spirit and a fierce mama bear heart that lets NOTHING stand in your way. 
I love you both!

Can I just say (in case you didn’t already figure it out) that I loved this experience! It was a confidence building, anxiety reducing, friend strengthening, overall amazing kind of day! And knowing that it also supported a great cause, made it even more fun.

(From the Muddy Princess website:)

Muddy Princess cares deeply about outreach, especially women’s health issues which is why we have partnered with I Go Pink – The Breast Cancer Charities of America. We are so excited to get to work with this national organization creating awareness towards the prevention of breast cancer and offering support to those affected here in the States and in under resourced communities around the world.

Love,
Dianne

P.s. How did our cheerleader, photographer, and general disliker of mud Adrienne survive the day? 
She may have bleached her shoes. 

Run Your Race

Two years ago, I began this craziness called “running”. I think I knew I needed something new to get me excited about my health and fitness again, and really just wanted to see what I could do. Even 1/10th of a mile at anything more than a fast walk was a challenge for me. I’d send pictures of my ventures to my two oldest children who both ran some and they’d fill up my encouragement tank. Putting my running out there for them, and sometimes on social media, kept me more accountable to keep pushing on, to keep trying. To date, I’ve run eleven 5ks, one 10k, and on my birthday this year (June 1), I ran my first Half Marathon.

Adrienne and I, along with friend Danae, and our favorite cheerleader Gabrielle, we headed for Morgantown, WV fo the Decker’s Creek Half Marathon. We left early because we needed to pick up our packets and the website made it sound like parking could be a challenge. Can I say how proud I was in that moment as we climbed to the top of the parking garage, that we were literally almost the first ones there?! I am usually just in time (barely) or late. I outdid myself this time. I hoped that arriving first would be a sign of how the whole day would go.

There is always some pre-race jitters for me (aka: multiple trips to the porta-potty) and I was a little more nervous than usual because I know I really didn’t prepare as well for this as I should have. I had  signed up thinking, “Just walk if you need to; it’s your birthday, just do it for fun. Besides, it’s mostly downhill.” 13 miles for fun. Am I losing my mind!?! Maybe, but I was signed up and committed, so we got our packets, and headed for the buses which would take us to the trail head about 20 minutes away.


Walking in to the start, Danae, Adrienne and I were all feeling ready. We would just do what we could. Initially we had thought we would all stay together, more or less, but we literally lost Adrienne in the crowd within the first 1/10th of a mile. Danae and I stayed together for about 5 miles or so, and I tried to find Adrienne, but we finally just decided that she had gone on out ahead and we would see her at the finish. At about 5 miles in, I was beginning to feel some pain in my right hip and had to take a few walk breaks. I was able to catch up to Danae for awhile doing that, but finally it was too much.






And then those little whispers of discouragement started inside my head.

“Who told you that you could keep up?”
“You will never be faster or stronger.”
“Maybe you aren’t cut out for this.”
“ You run funny.”

Now, I don’t have a mile-by-mile dialog of how I felt, what I did to keep going, what I ate or drank, but I do know that I ran the range of emotions and physical stages from joyful energy all the way to wanting to give up. There were moments of humor, like when my Fitbit charge fell off my waistband and was at my knee on the inside of my leggings and I reached my hand down my pants to retrieve it. Danae thought I was working a muscle (like a true fellow massage therapist would!). Then there was Mile 10.

I had come out of the wooded trail and was getting so close to the finish. “Just another 5k Dianne...you can do this.” But I had never done more than 10 miles before. Ever. And the downhill was gone. It had been tough enough with that advantage and now it was gone. I. Was. Tired. My legs felt like heavy bags of wet sand.

“Girl, you’re done. Go home.”
“I don’t think you have it in you.”
“All those people passing you? They even started 15 minutes after you.”
“You still run funny.”

And then, there was Adrienne. 

I had not seen her since the start of the race, and now, she was right beside me. I thought I was hallucinating. But she was so very real and EXACTLY what I needed right then. She was the voice of encouragement that I needed and I believe God had the timing perfect. She kept me going with her steady pace. She didn’t tell me to stop, but she kept telling me to keep moving forward at my own pace. She believed I could finish this thing. She believed in me. That gave me courage to keep on. She put some fighting music on my Spotify, she made sure I had a drink of water, and a tube of applesauce. It was enough. It kept me moving ever closer to the finish.

Then, there it was. That beautiful, oh so beautiful, finish line. I finished, still running, and could hear Gabrielle and Danae cheering and shouting encouragement. I. FINISHED. MY. RACE.

What did I learn from this experience?
1) During those miles between 5-10, I had to come to grips with something: I needed to run my race, not anyone else’s. I am 49, still fairly new to this fitness and running world. I don’t run every day, some weeks I am lucky if I get one run in, and I HAVE to stop this comparison game.
2) Sometimes you don’t have to run it alone and the right persons shows up when you need them most.
3) Preparing for a race, or anything in life really, is not a bad thing. Sometimes life happens and you can’t prepare, but even having a more solid foundation would be helpful. I needed to be able to combat the enemy (discouragement and defeat) with words of affirmation and positivity. I AM A RUNNER! I AM CREATED BY GOD AND I CAN DO THIS! And actually training with a weekly plan would have probably helped with the sandbag legs and the hip pain. Lesson learned.
4) Sometimes life is more of a mind game. Am I prepared to play?
5.) I need to just run my race even if it looks like I am dancing the Charleston.

That day, I thought, “okay, I’ve done a Half, now I can cross it off my list and never do it again.” But now? I already signed up for another one. Never give up. Onward and upward.

Love,
Dianne