111

About a month before my Mom died, I started to see the number 111 everywhere.

I would wake up in the middle of the night, glance at the clock and it read 1:11. I would buy a raffle ticket and my ticket number was 111. I would receive messages on my cell phone at 1:11 and when I checked the minutes I spent on a phone call, it was 1:11 minutes.

At first, I chalked it up to coincidence but when it happened over and over again, it was clearly not just coincidence. My Mom asked me what I thought it meant and I said that I felt like we had family and friends who had passed away previously who were trying to let us know that they loved us and that it was going to be OK...they would be meeting Mom on the other side and they were so excited to finally be reunited with her at last. My family members thought I was crazy at first but, when they began to pay attention, both my father and my brother were seeing the number 111 too.

The kicker for us all came during a visit from Mom's hospice nurse. While she was taking Mom's vitals, I glanced down at the bed frame on my Mom's bed and there was a moving sticker still stuck to the bed frame. (You know the ones that look like this...)


My parents had moved into their current house about two years ago and evidently had missed removing this sticker. The number on that sticker on my Mom's bed was 111.

I almost fainted. When I showed it to Dad, he was dumbstruck and after that, my father had no doubts that it was more than coincidence. He just couldn't understand why, when he bought a lottery ticket with that number, he didn't win the jackpot...

A month or so after my Mom died, I continued to see the number 111 and I felt it was my Mom, at that point, letting me know she was OK. I saw it everywhere...on my bike computer, I saw it coming back from vacation when I had 111 emails, my total at the grocery store was $111 once and another time my change was $1.11. My Mom's funeral was held on the 11th of March at 11 o'clock. You get the idea.

This weekend, I swam, biked and ran in the IronGirl triathlon which is held in Columbia very close to where I live. My friend Maura has created a Women's Giving Circle and we raise money for underprivileged women and children in Howard County as part of our race. Last year, my Mom made a donation to the group and supported all 20 or so of us moms who were out there doing the "unthinkable". She was so proud of us, at our age, trying something new, something challenging because she wasn't sure she ever would have put herself through that...When she went with me last year to pick up my race packet, she wanted to buy a shirt that said "My Daughter is an IronGirl" and was disappointed when they were sold out.

My friend Maura had the t-shirts that we wore this year printed in Grammy Aqua but that wasn't the only surprise she had in store for me.

This year, I went to pick up my race packet with my husband. The day was bittersweet and I was feeling sad remembering last year when my Mom had gone with me. Outside, there was an alphabetical listing posted where you look up your name and find your race number so you can tell the person inside what your number is...


When I read that I was 111, I caught my breath. Then I remembered that my friend Maura knew the race director and she made sure I got this number and I felt a big "hug".

I went inside and walked up to the table where a man was standing behind the sign that read "Numbers 0-250 here". He says, "Hello, what's your number?" And I tried to speak but nothing came out, I choked and the tears began to pour down my face. I bawled. Not little tears mind you, they were big honking, heaving sobs. All my sadness and missing-my-mother erupted from within me and there was no stopping it...the floodgates were released and I poured out all over that poor man whose nametag said Dan.

At first Dan was too shocked to know what to do and finally asked, "Are you worried about the race tomorrow?" I shook my head vehemently no. I motioned for him to move on and just get me my packet so I could get away. He asked for my number again but I was crying too hard to tell him. That's when my husband stepped around from behind me and, in a choked up voice that broke when he said it, he said, "Her number is 111."

Yesterday morning I awoke at 5:00am to go to the race, this race where my number was 111.

I knew my Mom was with me, still thinking I'm nuts, but with me. And, I was fine...until I had to get my body marked...that's where someone puts your race number on your hands and your shoulders with black marker so they can identify you throughout the race. Again, the question came, "Your race number?" And this time, I didn't sob but tears started slipping down my face and I croaked out "111". So, I cried my way to my bike, pumped up my tires, wiped my face, got my goggles and swim cap, told my mother I loved her, and went on to have a beautiful day.

This is me and my friend Maura (one of the Ironmen I told you about before) who remembered my Mom this race.

She remembered that it would mean a lot to me if the t-shirts were in my mother's color. She remembered and requested that my race number be 111. In her incredibly busy schedule of organizing the Giving Circle, having us all over for dinner the night before, and participating in the race herself, she remembered that it was going to be a tough day for me and I would be missing my Mom.

It was such a beautiful and meaningful thing to do. When it feels like the rest of the world has moved on, it means so much when someone remembers, doesn't it? Someone remembered how hard it still is to have lost my Mom. I'll love her forever for that.

Here are some more pics from race day.

The IronGirl is a women-only event and the triathlon is the shortest one out there...0.5 mile swim, 17 mile bike and a 3.4 mile run.


Many women of all ages and sizes and athletic ability participate to just see if they can do it. It's a beautifully inspirational day, sometimes with three generations of women participating and passing the finish line together.


The day isn't about winning the race, it's about finishing. It's about stretching yourself to do something you didn't think you could. All along the race course, you hear words of encouragement, "You're doing great.", "Great job!" "You're making it..."


When passing one woman, I said, "I hope I'm still doing this when I'm 65..." At which point, a woman behind me says, "I hope I'm still doing this when I'm 30!!" Which made us all laugh...


They mark our ages on our calves and it's so incredible when you see women out there at 63 or 55 years of age...grandmothers. And you know their names because they're printed on our numbers. And it's so beautiful to see the younger girls at 14-18 completing their first race. Maybe next year you'll come to Baltimore and consider doing it with us.

There are free massages afterwards...


That's all for now...Gotta run!

The Last Day of Summer and a Lesson Learned

On the last day of Summer, my entire family was at the beach to celebrate the Labor Day weekend (except for the oldest niece who is lucky enough to be in Brussels). We decided to wake up early and go bike riding on the Ocean City Boardwalk.

My brother Mark had the littlest with him...


and my sister rented a surrey for the big girls...


and Jack was in a low-rider...





We had a beautiful ride and then it was time for the Breakfast of Bicycle Champions...Thrasher's French Fries and Alaska Stand hot dogs...


After eating, it was time for a little competition...All nine kids lined up on one of those water gun games to compete for the prize. When the water hits the target, it makes the balloon blow up. The person whose balloon pops first wins. Playing that water gun game is a family tradition in my house...


It was no suprise that the oldest, Jack, was the winner. The lady asked Jack which prize he wanted


and he said he wanted Meghan, the littlest, to choose.

I was so proud of him for not hesitating...after all these years, it's finally happening. He's growing up.

Despite being the littlest, Meghan picked the biggest prize. You can't even see her in this picture! I think she's under the dog.


The dog is supposed to be Pluto and he's been abducted by aliens...that explains his funky helmet and the fact that he's green. It's a good thing we had an extra bike seat for our new friend. He's a laid-back sort of a fellow...


Then it was time to say good-bye to the beach; to pack up our gear and head back home to get ready for school.


It was a great weekend, the only problem is that these are the only pictures I have from the weekend.

Imagine this...I took my good camera to the beach, I planned the lighting on all four days; I got beautiful shots...sun, sand, surf and kids having the time of their lives...Rainbow beach umbrellas and pyramids in the sand...I had it all...emphasis on HAD.

I was too impatient and tried to view my photos on my son's new computer. Needless to say, they were incompatible; the computer locked up and I lost all of my photos...four days worth of pictures. I honestly felt sick to my stomach and went to bed early because I was so depressed. It was kind of like losing an entire term paper to a power surge and never having saved it?? You know what I mean? Lesson learned: Never hook up your camera to an unknown source.

One of the pictures I will miss most was of a man I don't even know.

He was a softball shortstop playing in a mens' league in the park where I went walking on Sunday morning. As I walked by, he was warming up with his teammates. When he turned his back to throw a ball, my breath caught in my throat.

The number on the back of his jersey was 111. I couldn't believe it. I did a double-take and the number was still there. (If you're new here, you might want to read this post to understand the importance of this story.)

Ok, I didn't think you would believe me if I didn't have the picture. Here I was in the park that my mother loved, staying in the beach place that my mother furnished and I see the number 111 in a place where it's not supposed to be.

All the other players on his team had numbers like 27, 14, 5 and 9. All one or two digit numbers. In fact, I've never seen a jersey with three numbers, have you? He was the ONLY one with three digits and his number was 111.

I didn't know how long I stood there staring at him before I realized I was staring so I moved on. I walked around the big field and went on the other side and took pictures from far away so he wouldn't think I was a stalker.

I couldn't leave the park without asking him about his number. Why 111? I finally got up the nerve to ask and here's how it went...

"Excuse me, sir, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Would you mind telling me why you have the number 111?"

"Oh...sure. My best friend and I both played softball and we both had the number 11. Last year, he died unexpectedly so I added another 1 to my number. Now, since I combined our numbers, I feel like we're both playing even though he's gone."

"That's really wonderful." Big silence.

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh..." and I told him the story.

And he said, "There's no doubt. That's a sign, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Did you ever think about playing the number? I mean, you might hit the lottery..."

"Yeah, my father says the same thing. " I laugh. "Take care and good luck in your game."

Wonders never cease.

Leaving Home and Coming Back

At last. 

I have come home again to my blog.  Time to clear out the cobwebs, dust off the keyboard and re-engage with my online life.

As with any break from routine, there is lots to catch up on so I won't waste any more time.

The biggest event for this Mom of One was sending my only off to college.

On Labor Day weekend, Jim and I drove the 6.5 hours to Boston to drop Jack off at Northeastern University where he has begun studies in their College of Computers and Information Sciences...

The drop off itself took minutes really.

The school provides these big moving carts designed to hold all your life's necessities...

It was a busy weekend in Boston with many apartment turnovers occurring on September 1 but there was little traffic getting to the University and getting parked.  Honestly, it took about 20 minutes total.

His dorm room is long and narrow.  It's a good thing that their beds are lofted because they wouldn't fit otherwise.  

He is lucky to be on a corner so he has three windows and a nice view of the street below...

There are two metro stops on his campus which makes getting around Boston a piece of cake.  And the Museum of Fine Arts is directly across from his college and two blocks away from his dorm.

We've already taken advantage of that blessing quite a bit.

After running to Target for a few extras, Jim snapped a quick pic to mark the moment...

And then he was gone...

Jim and I left Boston to travel the two hours to spend the rest of the weekend in Brattleboro, Vermont.  A wonderful trip full of fabric and good food!

There's a very special person I like to visit when I go to Brattleboro.

Along the way,  we found ourselves on Route 111 for a stretch and I took that as a good sign.  One-Eleven has been a very special number for me and my family since my Mom passed away in 2008.

As for Jim and I...

It's back to long walks, dinner for two, movie nights and anything else that strikes our fancy.  We recognize this place and we like it.  A little older, a little out of practice, but beautiful just the same.

We haven't heard much from Jack.  He wasn't a big talker while he was living here and now that he's not...well...

It's quiet.  

I'm thinking we might find out how his first year of college was in about 10 years.  

Hey, anything we hear before then is a bonus!

As for me, I have lots to get caught up on...

I'm finishing up my Japanese Embroidery piece, Eternal Grace...

And Mrs. Rose wants to tell you her story in the next few weeks...she's been far too patient!

Scotland makes its vote for Independence on Thursday which makes me want to finish processing my pictures and book from last year...

And I have many photos and stories to share from our Summer while I was taking a break from technology.  

Looking forward to catching up with all of you and our needle community.  It's good to be back.

The Liberty Ladies (Part One)

(Warning** : This is Part One of a two-part picture-laden story of five strong and courageous Liberty Ladies who participated in the Liberty to Liberty Triathlon, taking ourselves from the Statue of Liberty in New York City to the Liberty Bell/Museum of Art in Philadelphia.)

They canceled the swim.

I was disappointed. Believe it or not, I had wanted to swim in the Hudson River -- dead bodies, flotsam, jetsam, et al. With my injured hip, I was thinking the swim might be my one shot at glory for the day. Not to mention, I had planned to shove a disposable, underwater camera into my wetsuit and get an "in agua" picture of all of the lady swimming beauties in front of the Big Lady herself...

via Streetr's Flickr

but, alas, swimming was not meant to be...

We honored Lady Liberty, each in our own way, garnering all of her energy, beauty and support....she, the Mother of Liberty -- we, the mothers of 15 children all-together.

Great friends, all of us...and, two of us, sisters racing together...


The night before the race, we went to Manhattan to soak up the energy of Times Square and eat a pre-race Italian meal.


Even the Empire State Building had her colors lit in honor of our race *wink...


We awoke the next morning to a beautiful day and we were rip-roaring, raring-to-go on our 90-mile bike ride through the horse country of New Jersey into Philadelphia.


(And yes, that's the Hudson River we were supposed to have swum in...)

Mind you, we had serious strategies and preparations for this race. Not only did we have to get our bikes up to New Jersey and our car down to Philadelphia, but we had to have properly-attired bikes and decorum as well.

We are, after all, Liberty Ladies in every sense of the word.

Maura radio-ed to the team that she had the crowns...


Our friends had sent us off with fierce tattoos, warrior rhinestones, and flag stickers,


and we brought lots of supplies for decorating ourselves, our bikes and anyone else we could get our hands on...


Including our bus driver, Regina. I am forever grateful to Regina, our newly-coronated Liberty Bus Queen, for blessing us on our safe ride and, most importantly, for blessing my hindered hip.


Before long, we were all Beauty-fied,


Our water bottles were full, sunscreen was on, and we were ready at the START...

Willing, of course, to take time out of our pre-race meditation routines for a photo-op -- always, always remembering that we are Liberty Ladies...And, our fans need us, no matter what the cost to ourselves.

We were all lined up to start individually -- 15 seconds apart from one another.

I knew it was a good omen for me when the woman in front of me was Number 111. And she became my new friend, Mary from Seattle. Yes, that's right, I couldn't help myself, Tina Turner channeled through me...Big wheels keep on Turnin', Proud Mary keep on Burnin', Rollin' Rollin' Rollin' down to Philly....


Ooops... I digress...again...I'm surprised I have any readers at all...

OK, so we're finally all lined up at the start and ready to go....


But, now I think I've overloaded your capacity for photos for one day...

Tune in tomorrow to see the unbelievable transformation of the Liberty Ladies...soon to be produced as a made-for-TV movie...