Caregiver Village is a virtual world and game where caregivers can connect, play, share their story, and find resources. When I was in the throes of helping to care for my mom, I felt so isolated. I had no idea there were millions of caregivers around the world in similar situations. Looking back, I wonder how different my experience would have been if I had a space to share my stress, vent my frustration, and find support from other caregivers. Now, caregivers can do that very thing at Caregiver Village. I’m so happy to be able to help foster new friendships, connections, and create an online support system for caregivers everywhere.

For a limited time the first year of membership is free (a $50 value) and Caregiver Village will donate $1 to the Alzheimer’s Association for every new member that joins through this link. Join me today in this innovative endeavor to reach out and improve the lives of caregivers all over the country.

Still, there’s something so wild and untouched about Alaska that leaves me longing for more every time we visit. It could be the moose that graze in the front grass of our friends’ home. It could be the bear black bear that meandered his way up their drive. It could be the midnight sun, the forests packed tightly next to town, or the severe mountains with ice-blue glaciers that meet frozen seas.

But, Alaska for me is a state of mind. It’s traveling back in time. Sure, that could be due to the fact that the state boasts a meager 700,000 residents which means there’s over a square mile of land for every man, woman and child. I suppose hiking around a corner and running into a mama moose and her calf, or attaching bear bells to my backpack help to establish the idea that Alaska at its core doesn’t quite belong to us. In Alaska, whether on a remote trail or next to a big box store life remains untamed. Tapping into this untamed land (even for a short chunk of time) reminds me to embrace our wild open spaces and get out and explore.

More to come, but in the meantime here’s a teaser that sums up where we’re going:  Broadsheet360 always more than 140 characters.

Last week we hit the taper, the time in our training program where mileage decreases and rest increases. I found myself feeling restless and almost wistful for 15 or 20 miles. Of course, not thinking about the fact that the granddaddy of mileage, 26.2, was looming ahead.  If you had asked me in February if I thought I could bust out 26.2 miles I would have grimaced and shrugged. 26.2 sounded so daunting, nearly impossible. The thing is something shifted during all those miles of training. I realized I could indeed complete the marathon, and most likely in decent time. For all you seasoned runners/walkers, I’m sure this is exactly what a regimented training program is designed to do. But, for me this realization came as a welcome surprise.

And, that dear readers is where the Flip-Flops come in. Summer has been slow to arrive in the Pacific Northwest this year. In fact the marathon has been forced to change route, as the mighty Columbia River has hovered at or above flood stage for the past month, spilling over the waterfront trail. Last weekend summer finally ushered its way in with brilliant sun, a light breeze and seventy degree days. My feet found their way into Flip-Flops and my Flip-Flops found their way into a huge rock.

Yep, exactly eight days prior to my first marathon, I broke my toe. For the love of Flip-Flops, my toe!

It’s too soon to know whether I’ll be able to amble my way through this weekend’s event or not. Regardless of that outcome, I’m quite thankful to have had the experience of training and the understanding that my body can do so much more than I give it credit for. If I’m sidelined this weekend, I’ll be there rooting my partner on. Not to worry, I won’t be sidelined for long. I’m already signed-up for the Portland Marathon later this fall. My Flip-Flops however will be permanently on the bench.

In June, I’ll be leaving my position at the Alzheimer’s Association to pursue a full time career in writing.  Working for the Association not only led to professional growth, but also served as a catalyst for my own healing.  I learned more about the disease than sometimes I ever wanted.  I made lifelong connections with colleagues and volunteers throughout the nation.  And, I was able to lend my voice in a way that I couldn’t while my mom was living with Alzheimer’s.  This alone has profoundly altered me, and I’m forever grateful for the experience. 

There were so many times I could feel my mom’s energy and spirit cheering me on.  Just as I can imagine her nudging me forward now, reminding me that it’s okay to let go and carve out whatever comes next.    

Speaking of what’s next, my plan is to write what I love which has manifested in two ways.  First, my not-so-secret vice is mystery novels, so I’ve decided to try penning a sleuth series.  Outlining, plotting, and character mapping have begun, but I’m eager to dig in to actually writing the book soon.  Second, as a magazine and news enthusiast I’ll continue my freelancing gigs, and will soon be announcing the launch of a new collaborative project.  Saving the best news for last, Underneath the Ash is due to be re-released.  As you can see, I’ll have plenty to blog about in the coming months so stay tuned for details.

Let’s kick things off with birthdays.  Luke turned “gasp” seven this year.  Ancient spiritualists and modern day mystics believe we shed our skin and start anew every seven years.  It feels like Luke is shedding his skin.  His once chubby baby body is now long and lanky, with a toothy grin and impish eyes.  Gone are the days of sweet little birthday parties with cake and ice-cream.  Instead we’ve ushered in the era of Nerf gun wars and fart jokes.  While on one hand it’s hard to say goodbye to the small boy with the wide green eyes, it’s also amazing to watch him carve out his own space in the world.  Like at the soccer field where he races off to the snack bar with a pocket full of his own money to buy treats, and comes back with the change.  Or, at the dinner table where our conversations are about what it means to be a good friend and what’s happening in Egypt. 

But, even with his budding independence and expanding world view, Luke at his core is all kid.  This was especially evident last week during the threat of an impending blizzard.  So maybe I can’t officially call last week’s snow a blizzard, but the night of Luke’s birthday our entire household was eager with the anticipation of the promise of snow.  All three of us spent the evening glued to the windows and checking the weather report for updates.  I’d given up hope.  Snow in the Pacific Northwest is a rarity, not to mention the fact that every forecast for snow this season has led to nothing but good old rain.  Luke and his father were believers.  At 6:00 the next morning they woke me with delighted screams and pulled me out of bed to see the brilliant white coated ground. 

Luke tromped outside in pj’s and boots.  Watching him from my steamy kitchen window throwing snow up in the air and trying to catch it on his tongue reminded me that even as he learns to be his own person in the world, he doesn’t have to give up the wonderment of childhood.  He can take it with him.  And, I hope he will.

I promise I will not monopolize this post with any sort of Harry Potter review. Seriously, what’s left to be said?  

What our little day excursion did get me thinking about though was magic.  More specifically how the pursuit of magic seems to be eroding in our culture.  One of my friends was recently lamenting about the amount of homework her two and half year old son brings home from preschool.  My friend works full time and has a newborn, so confessed she usually does her preschooler’s homework late in the evening after the kids have gone to bed.  In our household, the erosion of magic, comes in the form of standardize testing.  My first grader trots home with a practice math test in his backpack every day.  Fortunately for him, the tests are a breeze, but I know that’s not the case for many of his classmates, and more importantly what other innovative projects do teachers have to give up in order to prepare today’s students for the litany of standardize tests before them?

Add to this the assortment of technological choices our kiddos have at their fingertips after-school like:  TV, video games, cell phones, and social media.  Not to mention the unyielding trend of organized after-school activities.  I remember hopping on my bike and tooling around the neighborhood after school, or playing Little House on the Prairie with the neighbor kids in my backyard.  Now, the expectation is carting our kids from soccer to piano, and dance to art class.

I suppose that’s why spending a day immersed in magic resonated with me.  Aside from the whimsical nature of the exhibit itself, think potting Mandrakes and playing a round of Quidditch, all three kids were sucked out of their test-taking and technology worlds.  My tweener niece and nephew didn’t focus on looking cool or texting friends.  Soon to be seven, Luke didn’t beg to play on my iPhone or plug into a movie on the train ride home.  Instead, they chomped on chocolate frogs, pretended to stupefy each other, and rambled on about how amazing it would be if magic really existed.  And, for that moment, it did.

And, yet somehow the football team, University, fans, and state as a whole have arrived on this date:  January 10, 2011 as our Ducks get set to take the field in front of a frenzied national audience. 

Win or lose tonight, it’s a great day to be a Duck.  And, apparently I’m in good company here in my neck of the woods.  Click here to read my latest Vancouver Voice column about fellow Ducks “On the Wrong Side of the River.” 

I can’t wait to see how it all plays out, but regardless, this one game will forever shape the future of Oregon football.  Go Ducks!

2010 brought its fair share of joys and sorrows in our household.  When I glance back it’s not the highs or lows I remember, but rather the assortment of common, casual, and endearingly comfortable days in between.  Even more so, I’ll remember this as the decade that I came of age.  I lost a parent, gained a child, and learned how I define myself in the world.   

I think it will be interesting to see how history reflects on this chunk of time.  But, I’ll leave the postulating and comparative lists on advancements in technology and celebrity gossip to the year-end pundits.  Instead I’ll turn inward with my thoughts this winter’s evening and leave you with someone else’s words:

“New Year’s Eve is like every other night; there is no pause in the march of the universe, no breathless moment of silence among created things that the passage of another twelve months may be noted; and yet no man has quite the same thoughts this evening that come with the coming of darkness on other nights.”  ~ Hamilton Wright Mabie

Wishing you health and happiness in 2011.

Insert screeching car sounds here!  I wanted to shout, ”WHAT?  Who told you that?”  But as I glanced in the rear-view mirror I noticed his bottom lip was quivering.  So, I shakily steered the car towards home and tried to pull something reasonable together.  In a panic to help him hold on to his belief I threw out, “Well, you can believe anything you like honey, but I certainly wouldn’t want to risk not believing and having Santa skip our house.”  Ouch!  Not my best parenting moment.   

Fortunately, as fate would have it, waiting in my Inbox was an email from the PNP (Portable North Pole) reminding me that Santa is back and better than ever this year.  The site allows you to upload photos and details that only the Big Man would know.  Then, Santa gives kids a sneak-peak into his workshop, ice-caves where his elves are busy handcrafting magnificent sculptures, and introduces his fleet of reindeer.  All this is neatly delivered via email directly from Mr. Claus. 

For the second year in a row, the PNP saved Christmas in the Seeley house.  The technology is seamless.  Even as an adult, I was completely captivated.  Santa magically knew all about our trip to Rome, and Luke’s first lost tooth.  He pinpointed our house on his radar screen and recommended that Luke help out more during the holidays.  This has prompted a mad dash to do the dishes after dinner each night, but more importantly it’s restored the belief that he wasn’t ready to give up.  I know that in the years to come, Luke’s belief in Santa and all things magical will be relegated to a childhood memory.  But, I also know that for now he still wants to believe and thanks to the PNP he does!