5th Place

Two weekends ago, when I sat between Claire and Noah on the long drive to Alamosa, I had the following conversation with my darling nephew:

Me: "Noah, aren't I just the most beautiful girl in the whole world?"

SIDE NOTE: I realize I had just set myself up. I know that this conversation could go any direction but I had entertained him for the past two hours and I was feeling pretty hopeful. My mistake.

Noah: "No. Claire is."

Claire: "OH Noah! That is so sweet! Thank you so much." What?! Claire? I am the one who has fed you a beef taco for the last 20 minutes. That has to count for something! And I am pretty sure I have cheese in my hair.

Noah: "You're welcome."

Me: "Okay, who is second?" Fingers crossed...

Noah: "Gram. Gram is second."

My Mom: "Oh, why thank you, sweet boy."

Me: "So...does that make me third?" I realize I sound desperate.

Noah: "Nope, you're fifth. Joseph's wife is third." My stinking brother starts to chuckle.

Me: "As in Mary? Jesus' mother?"

Noah: "Yes. Mary is third." Wow. I didn't even know he knew what she looked like. Shoot, she must have had it going on.

Me: "Okay, that's cool." I mean, how can you compete with that?

Noah: "And my mom is fourth."

Me: "Well that's good. You're mom is pretty. So then I am fifth, huh?"

Noah: "Yes, you are fifth."

Me: Why, thank you Noah! I am happy to be fifth."

Noah: "Why? Why are you happy? Fifth is the worst."

And with that, I gave him another beef taco. And I made a mental note to not base my self-esteem on the opinions of a six year old.

Operation: Camper Card-A-Thon

On Thanksgiving, after an impeccable meal that was full of all forms of carbohydrates, my mom and I drove to Alamosa to see my dad. Thankfully, he was allowed to have visitors and we stayed down there and chatted with him for three hours.

SIDE NOTE: The first time I came to Camp Alamosa I must admit that I was nervous. No one tells you what it is like to visit someone in any type of correctional facility. It's just not a conversation topic that comes up often. Let's face it, it's uncomfortable and awkward and scary and weird. But if you DO want to talk about it, I am your girl. I've got this weirdness covered.

While we were chatting, I met one of dad's new friends named David. David is probably in his late forties and has a mustache and beard and wears glasses. He was shy and had a very kind face. He and my dad had kitchen duty a few weeks ago and they struck up a conversation. And from this conversation, my dad learned that David has been in the system for 22 years. And not once in those 22 years has David had a visitor. Not once.

No one has ever come to see him.

No one has ever come to give him a hug.

No one has ever dropped by to give him an encouraging word.

And this made me so very sad.

How does this happen? How do you forget about someone? He is someone's son, brother, uncle, friend. He is a person made in God's image. He is a person who has made mistakes and is doing his best to pay for those mistakes. But he is someone who also needs to be loved. And the more I visit my dad, the more I see other men just like David.

My dad said that one of the most encouraging things these men can receive (other than you driving all the way to Alamosa to give them a hug. But you know, that may be awkward) is a card in the mail. I have been sending a card to my dad at least three times a week and he said that these cards mean the world to him. Sometimes I even slip in a joke or a picture or a crossword puzzle.

So, here is what I am proposing: A Camper Card-A-Thon! And there is no better time to kick this off than with Christmas just around the corner. Just buy one extra Christmas card and send it to Alamosa!

Here is the plan:
1. Buy a card and stamp
2. Email me at sarahdellie@hotmail.com for the name of a camper and the address
3. Write something funny, serious, thoughtful, kind or all of the above
4. Mail the card

That's it! And in return, I'll do my best to get any feedback I can when I visit my dad.

I have already seen how much this can make a difference. I have seen one of these men tear up because someone remembered him, someone who didn't even know him, sent him a card. It is a real, tangible way to show them love. And there is nothing more powerful than love.

You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh ; rather, serve one another humbly in love."       ~ Galatians 5:13

Daddy's Girl

Don't you wish you knew what he was saying?

Probably something like "Hey, short stuff. I dig your overalls."

Yep, I am sure that is it.

I Brought My "A" Game

You guys are the best. THE BEST, I tell you. Thank you so much for your dating encouragement. Truly, it gave me the confidence I needed to actually show up last night.

Overall...it was the best blind date I have been on.

It was better than the date when the guy asked me to a movie but didn't pay for my ticket. It was better than the date when the guy asked me 25 intense questions and later admitted that he was testing to see if I was "wife material." (This was also the same date where I was asked if I liked to hunt.) And it was better than the date when the guy took me out for ice cream and then proceeded to only talk about his ex-girlfriend.

The bar was obviously low, my friends.

But as blind dates go, this was a good one. I brought my "A" game, which is saying a lot because I don't know the last time anyone saw my "A" game. I wore a pink flowery shirt, dark jeans and little heels. I was charming and witty and tried not to speak in a southern accent.

SIDE NOTE: When I get nervous, I get really twangy. It's weird, I know.

And he was very nice and we had a lot in common. He has even lived in Kazakhstan. WHO LIVES IN KAZAKHSTAN?? Well, actually I work with several people who do, but still, Kazakhstan is a rather obscure country. And he bought my coffee which is good because that is a deal breaker for me. Don't ask me to coffee and then expect me to pay for it. That is a lame-o move.We both went to the same college AND studied history. For all I know I could have had a class with him! And he is the middle child so he understands my angst.

However, there is one red flag. Can you guess it?

His favorite thing in the world is to go HIKING. Are you flipping kidding?

Dear Jesus, what are you doing to me?

But I told him that I love salsa dancing, and since most guys do not like salsa dancing, that should balance us out.

We ended up chatting for two hours and by the end of the night, he had invited me to his birthday party. I am not sure I can make it but it left the door open...whatever that means.

So there you have it! That was my date. As an experience, it redeemed many of the other less-than-stellar blind dates I have had. And for that, I am extremely grateful.

And on that note, happy, happy Thanksgiving, you turkeys.

Blind Date

Confession: I have a blind date tonight.

That thought almost makes me puke, and not because of this guy who has seemed exceptionally nice via our email conversations, but mainly because I am a dating kindergartner. These things make me nervous and goofy and doubt every piece of clothing I have ever bought. Thankfully it's just coffee, but still. A lot can be said at coffee. A lot that you wish you could take back forever.

I admit that I am not in the best place to date right now. Maybe I am never in a good place to date but this specific time seems particularly hard. However, life is still happening whether I choose to participate in it or not and I admit that a cup of coffee does sound good (of course this could have something to do with me needing a caffeine fix on my lunch break).

So, we will give this a whirl. It can't be too bad, right? I'll make sure to bring my most dazzling personality along with me.

So, Mr. Blind Date,

If you are reading this blog, I apologize in advance if I accidentally spill my coffee on you or talk about my musical theater days. I'm just nervous. But I do have some mad baking skills and frequent flyer miles. And if you are ever in trouble, my dad has a few connections for you.

Awkwardly charming,
The FC

Old School

It is Thanksgiving week, can you believe it? I am not quite sure how we arrived into late November. I feel like October never really existed. But apparently it did because Claire is now living with a man. And blissfully, I might add.

Yesterday, we loaded up the car and headed south to Alamosa to have a Thanksgiving lunch with my dad. He is not allowed to leave the facility on Thursday so we took advantage of a gorgeous Colorado day and celebrated Thanksgiving a few days early. The restaurant of choice: Chili's. Nothing says "count your blessings" quite like chips and salsa. You know you agree with me on this one.

The trip down was fairly uneventful. However, I ended up sitting in the middle between Claire and Noah, with a coffee thermos between my knees and an occasional Star Wars Lego in my lap. There was one point, while I was helping Noah eat yet another beef taco, when something made me laugh. And this laughter turned into hysteria which turned into a complete meltdown of all my abilities to act like an adult. I could not breathe and tears were streaming down my face. When this happens, I end up making these high-pitched squealing sounds that resemble a frightened pig. "Dainty" is not the word I would use in this situation. Noah just stared at me, which made me laugh even harder. I really can't tell you how I got to that point but I will say it felt really, really good. And now he has a charming memory of his demented aunt to tuck away into his memory for all eternity.

Dad is continuing to do well. He has a bit of a cold right now, but what do you expect when you have to share a room with 7 other people? But his resilient spirit has not changed. He seems to be making friends and has earned the moniker "Old School." Apparently he is on the older side of most of the residents and many can tell that he has had extensive schooling. I may have to call him that myself!

Our lunch at Chili's was fabulous and we spent the remainder of our time at Walmart. This has become a routine of sorts. I am thinking I could get all my Christmas shopping done just by visiting my dad regularly. And besides, he has always said "If you can't find it at Walmart, you don't need it." You just can't take the Oklahoma out of this man.

All too quickly we had to drop him off and we decided to snap a few pics in honor of our first Thanksgiving with this forced living arrangement. Sam and Dad look quite stellar:

But then it was my turn. Obviously my father/daughter moment wasn't appreciated by all. Punks.

$450

I have been asked often how much it costs to stay in jail for a month. And I am here to tell you that $450 is the going rate.

It's like paying rent only without your own bed and couch and ability to leave.

This seems completely and utterly ridiculous.

I'm thinking it is time to plan a jail break.

Who's with me?