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.

Last night, as Gordy tucked him in bed he said, “Dad, it’s the night before back to school, what if I can’t fall asleep? You know like the night before Christmas?” His excitement for the first day of school was contagious. To me, it seems like a clear sign that the summer of seven was a success.

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.

“Broadsheet360 is an online magazine where we dive into topics and points of view designed to provoke connections, conversations, and change your perspective.”

Your thoughts and feedback are welcome, now back to summer.

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.

I want to invite you to become a beta tester for Caregiver Village, an online experience designed exclusively for those who provide care for anyone with special needs:  an elderly parent, a disabled child, a sick friend or family member.  What’s in it for you?  Fun, mystery, adventure ( and a little romance) and, even more importantly, the opportunity to gain skills in managing the tasks, stresses and challenges caregivers face.  Oh, and a $50 gift card for your time.

Click here to be among the first in the world to see, play and experience a one-of-a-kind just for family caregivers.

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.