I Have My Assignment....

Check me out in my new Black Helmet 9/11 shirt!

It's official - in March, I will be posted at the recovery room atop the Columbia Center in Seattle.  Can I get a woot woot?

My hope is that a tall, dark and handsome firefighter will set a new national speed record in the stair climb, and then collapse into my waiting arms as I push a thick lock of black hair from his forehead and gently pour gatorade between his parted lips. 

Or I might get thrown up on by some blonde guy.   But being a firefighter, I bet he'll feel bad and apologize.

Either way, this is my opportunity to show off my sweet Florence Nightingale skills as we bring in money to kick blood cancer's ass.  Join us - donate by following the link at the top of this page.

What Floor, Please?

Today was a HUGE day.  Today was Wednesday, January 25th - the day that the volunteer applications and assignment requests for the Seattle Stair Climb were to go out.  OHHHHHH....the possibilities!  Do I go with "ground floor", where I can chat 1500 firefighters who are all jazzed up to do this thing; or do I go for the glory of "top floor", where I can witness the thrill of victory, and possibly get vomited on by a substantially less jazzed up firefighter?  Eenie Meenie Minee Moe.....  back and forth I went.  I checked my e-mail, oh, 80 thousand times today.  And guess what - no form. Sigh.   Tomorrow, Scarlett.  Tomorrow.

In the face of the agony of defeat, a ray of sunshine - literally. It was like 45 today, and the snow receded a little - so off to the gym for Teener tonight.  I was really, really hoping against hope that they still had that old Stairmaster tucked in a corner somewhere, so I could train along with my Stevens County boys - but alas, nobody does that anymore, the machine is long gone. And since I think I might work in the only multi-story building in the county (three stories when you include the basement, thank you very much), as Jack Nicholson would say, this might be as good as it gets.

Firefighter diet?  I'm eating meat maybe twice a week, not because I'm really Jonesing for it, but because I'm cold and most of my veggie dishes are cold, and I want warm food.  I know, lazy lazy lazy.  I'm consoling myself with the knowledge that I'm making progress, and next week, I'm shooting for only 1 "meat day."

I asked Alex to provide me with some training pics today of my Stevens County boys, which I will share with you immediately, dearest reader.  Yeah, I'm a little jazzed over the climb.

For those of you who care (the number is probably dwindling daily), after much consideration, I've disabled the ability to leave "anonymous" comments on the blog.  So if you want to leave a comment, you have to register, which takes about 2 seconds.  I did this after consulting with my guru Amy Smith, relationship coach and fellow blogger.  I know it's stupid to take the comments of morons personally, but what can I say, I do.  And no, I'm not talking about the average comments, or people who just plain disagree with me; I'm talking about the very personal attacks; the 5th grade playground shit.  So I hit her up on FaceBook with the question, "how do YOU handle the 'you suck and your blog sucks' comments?"  Her sage response was basically, you gotta wonder why someone who thinks you suck so bad would bother reading your stuff, and to hit 'DELETE'.  No wasting energy on defending yourself, release the douchebag to the universe and move on.  (She might not have used the word "douchebag", but I guarantee she wouldn't mind the paraphrase.)  So this is my new philosophy. 

My recommendation is that you race on over to her site and check it out.  For you who are peeved by my unwillingness to use the f-word, you'll love her.  She drops f-bombs on the floor like Raisinettes at a matinee.  I love me some Amy Smith.

Anyhow, tomorrow is registration day - I can just FEEL it.   What do you vote?  Top floor (thrill of victory/possible vomit) and Ground floor (jazzed up, victory status unknown)?

MAKE IT STOP...MAKE IT STOP....

I've had an epiphany-my readership doesn't know sh*t about rope, because none of ya'll even took a GUESS at the last fire exam question.  The answer .... A, static kermantle rope.

Yeah, I didn't know either; but, in my defense, my academics don't start for another 10 days.

Yesterday I got all dolled up and went to the gym, only to learn that they close for 4 hours on Saturday afternoons (valuable information to perhaps show on their FaceBook page, which is where I went to find their hours).  So I came home and set up my Wii Fit Plus.  My oldest daughter was kind enough to make a Mii for me when she was home, aptly named "Mama".   What sucks is this stupid thing weighs you in every day and tells you how you are lacking in weight proficiency.  You see, a "normal" BMI is 24.9 and under.  My BMI is 25.  If I drop 2 pounds, I will be in the "normal" range.  But, oh no, Wii Fit has to announce to me that "MAMA IS OVERWEIGHT" every time I step on it.  I hate to split hairs here, but if I'm only "overweight" by 2 pounds, I'm not really overweight.  I could go a few hours without drinking water and be miraculously "normal." So say I.

And I can't go to the gym today, because it's been effin' snowing for 4 hours now.  And there's no fire events going on at any houses, because it's WINTER and not exactly hamburger and hot dog weather.  So I'm housebound and getting a little stir crazy.

In honor of my stircraziness, I've compiled:

THE TOP TEN THINGS THAT ARE CURRENTLY PISSING TINA OFF

1.  Nonstop snow
2.  Gyms that are not open when their FaceBook page says that they should be
3.  No fire events to go to because it's winter time
4.  Veggie subs.  I'm friggin' sick of eating veggie subs.
5.  My old woman knee that keeps acting up every time I try to go down stairs or do squats/lunges
6.  The lady who won't call me back about the fundraiser I'm trying to organize for the Stair Climb
7.  Not having a clue what the term "kermantle rope" means
8.  The weight tracker feature on Wii Fit Plus
9.  Love
10. The complete lack of response to my resumes' that I've sent to potential employers in Spokompton

Okay, your turn.  What's got YOUR panties in a bunch today?

Yeah, Still the Knee Thing.

Greetings from a snow-bound SSG.

If you recall, when we last left this training menagerie, I had modified my lifting by removing squats/lunges and substituting knee extensions/donkey kicks to see if my old woman knee would rehabilitate.  And guess what - no pain.  (In this case, "no pain, no gain" does not apply - just to clarify.)  Anyhow, I've been patting myself on the back pretty thoroughly over that one.  Not only is she a land records examiner extraordinaire...siren sex goddess...firefighter in training...but she's also the next Jillian Michaels.

So I headed out the back door this morning to go to work, started down the stairs off the back porch (that would be TWO STAIRS), and BANG.  I had to hang on to the handrail and go down those TWO STAIRS sideways because my knee decided to just stop functioning the way most normal knees do.  Sigh.  Once I was on flat ground, I was pretty much fine again.

So much for my new career as Bob Harper's sidekick.  But I will not bow in the face of adversity - I will strive on and see how a few more weeks of modification impact my Old Woman Knee Syndrome.

On another note - there's always another note - I'm trying to pull together a fundraiser for the Seattle Stairclimb (feel free to give at the link at the top of this screen, darling).  My ability to do so depends on a certain person returning my messages.  Well, guess who isn't?  That would be the certain person.  Double sigh.  I hate it when I have something planned and I can't do it because somebody else won't do their part, don't you?  So when I'm finished with this, I'm going online and looking to see if I can find another certain person who might be able to help out.

Are you ready for a fire exam question, dearest reader?  Well, golly, I sure as heck am!!!

Firefighters are fighting a fire in a four-story apartment building.  They need an extremely strong rope that does not stretch to rescue a burn victim.  What type of rope will they most likely use?
a.  Static kermantle
b.  Braided
c.  Dynamic kermantle
d.  Braid-on-braid
e.  Laid

Take a Knee

So, there's this thing with my knee.  It never bothers me unless I'm doing stairs; then it hurts like hell.  This means that it flares up big time during squats and lunges, which is truly a shame, because squats and lunges make my booty look really sweet.

I'm thinking of swapping out those 2 particular exercises for knee extensions and donkey kicks, with the idea of building muscle in the area and then maybe I won't look 80 on the stairs anymore.

Any fitness champions out there have any suggestions?

The China Quandary

The correct answer to our last fire exam question - D.  Although the rest do make for some entertaining mental pictures.

So yesterday I went to W-Town and had dinner with TG.  We went to this Chinese place (yes, fell off the vegan wagon again) and it made me wonder...what does authentic Chinese food taste like?  I mean, really - have you ever seen a fat Chinese guy on TV?  You can't tell me that they actually stay skinny by deep-frying everything and slathering it in gravy or sticky neon sweet and sour sauce.  And don't get me started on that slimy texture that is so pervasive in every stir-fry dish.

If I recall correctly, I had 1 hit in China last week.  Dear Chinese reader, please feel free to chime in, provided you stumble across us again.

Anyhow, back to TG.  We had a sad conversation about my impending move and the effect it will have on "us"....and if "us" can survive that kind of long distance for an indefinite amount of time.    It's one of those situations where I know the answer, and he knows the answer, and I just don't want to have to deal with it right now, because he's a good guy and I like spending time with him.  Sometimes being a siren sex goddess really sucks. I'm such a fan of arranged marriage now, it's not even funny.

So now I'm home, and am faced with a quandary - Go to the gym, or eat a cinnamon roll and take a nap?  Your input is welcome.

A Girl in a Boy's Gym

The answer to our last fire exam question - A strap wrench.  Congratulations, Anonymous, you got it right.  Woot woot.

So the tattoo is healing....slowly.  It hurts, and the waistband of my work pants rubs on it, which of course doesn't help.  I stuffed a wad of Kleenex down my pants yesterday, which helped until I got up and walked around the office and it fell out of the bottom of my pants leg.  Humiliating?  Believe it or not, those who know me best - my coworkers - wouldn't bat an eye at that.  Another day in the life of Tina.

I went to the gym yesterday in my cool new Leary Foundation T-shirt and I gotta tell you, I spend a good 50% of the evening just checking myself out in all those mirrors.  Homegirl is lookin pretty sweet.  Once I realized that I could exercise and look at myself at the same time, I hit the treadmill.  My intent was to just warm up for a few minutes on the treadmill, then hit the weights.   Forty minutes later - well - I was still slugging away on the treadmill, mouthing the words to Shake Senora and pretending like I wasn't.

The problem was,at that particular time of night, the gym was full of GUYS.  It's not that I don't like men looking at me (especially when I'm wearing my cute Leary Foundation T-shirt), but flopping those little dumbbells around next to the heavy weightlifter...makes me feel...SILLY.  I would have zero problem going into the middle of the gym in front of all those men and putting my makeup on, or making pasta, or doing my hair.  That's girl stuff, and that's different. But weight lifting...well...going at 7 p.m. with the Thug Patrol cemented my decision to start going on my lunch hour when nobody else is there. It's a good thing I'm not studying to enter a male-dominated career field or something; how uncomfortable would that be?

ahem.

So anyway, Kat stayed on the treadmill for most of the night. In the end, I figured an hour of half-assed workout on the treadmill is still better an an hour of watching tv, right?  Right.

We are on target, dearest reader.  It's a marathon, not a sprint.

That being said, I ate about a thousand calories' worth of sloppy joes and chips tonight.  Yes, meat.  Yes, from a cow.  I try not to blow my weekly meat fest so early in the week...but you know what?  It was worth it.  It was a Manwich night.

Sharpen your pencils - exam question time:

When hoselines are laid by an apparatus (ie a pumper or tanker truck), what is the correct means for a firefighter to anchor the hose before the apparatus moves forward to pay out its load?'
a. Stand atop the hose or coupling
b.  Wrap the hose twice around the waist
c.  Face the opposite direction the apparatus is moving and lean forward while straddling the hose.
d.  Grasp the hose firmly and lean slightly backward.

FDNY 4EVER

So, after years of thinking, pondering, deciding, re-deciding, tabling, scorning, reassessing....I finally did it.  I got a tattoo. 

Don't worry, Dad.  It does't look trashy.

It's on my waist, so it's not screaming in your face when you see me. And since my lower abdomen looks like a map of the US Interstate system ever since baby #3, a bikini will never adorn my body again...so it will be completely covert unless I decide to show it off.

It's in honor of the 343 FDNY men who sacrificed their lives on September 11, 2001 as they assisted with the most massive rescue operation in American history; and specifically, of John Tierney, the FDNY hero that I memorialize.  I'm not going to post a photo of it, because I'm sorry, I think that's creepy - so I'll describe it instead. It looks a lot like this:

NEVER FORGET
343
NEVER AGAIN   


On the left side, it has a little green shamrock in honor of Tierney, and on the right it has a little "L9", which stands for "Ladder 9", his truck number.  The numbers are red.

I thought I'd take this opportunity to copy my September 11 post from last year's blog so that you newbies could meet Johnny Tierney as I have.  Please read...please remember.


-------

I recently got a silver dog tag on a ball bearing chain. On September 11^th, it hangs from my neck. The rest of the year, it hangs from my rearview mirror in my car. It is inscribed as follows:

JOHN P. TIERNEY NY USA

THE WTC 11 SEP 01 VOT

You might not immediately know what “The WTC” stands for, until you see the date that immediately follows it. Then I’m sure it’s crystal clear in your mind. “VOT” stands for “Victim of Terrorism.”

This is his picture. Cute guy, huh. Looks like a baby to me, but maybe that’s because my years are advancing. Tierney’s aren’t. It keeps me awake most nights lately.

I wanted you all to meet Tierney, get to know him the way I have. Here’s his story. I’ve cited my sources below, and I hope that you will visit those sites to learn about other heroes like him.

John Tierney was last seen in the lobby of One World Trade Center. Tierney's shift was ending just as Ladder 9 received the call to head to the financial district, said his cousin, John Schreiner. Tierney, 27, of Staten Island, was told he didn't have to go, but he insisted, even though it meant he'd have to sit atop another firefighter's lap. At the World Trade Center, he again was told he didn't have to go in; again, he insisted. He has not been heard from since. He attended St. Joseph's by the Sea High School and was graduated from St. John's University in 1997 with a degree in psychology. This was his rookie year as a firefighter; he was graduated from the fire academy only in July. "For the past two years or more, all he could think about, and his only goal, was to be a firefighter," Schreiner said. Tierney loved fishing and camping, "but his passion was the guitar. He'd just started playing a year and a half ago, and he wanted to be really good - he practiced until he had blisters, and he loved Bob Dylan." Patriotic, "he has a picture of George Washington kneeling before he went into battle of Valley Forge, and a picture of Paul Revere." As a probationary firefighter in Queens, Tierney achieved a bit of immortality: a newspaper photograph caught him holding a hose, spraying down a building. It was his very first fire. "He died a hero, and we know it must have been quick," Schreiner said. "He would have been so proud of what he did." He is survived by his parents, John and Helen; a brother, Thomas; sisters Mary and Jeanne; two nephews and a niece.

And this is the tribute submitted by his brother, Thomas:

John Patrick Tierney was a firefighter with FDNY Ladder Company 9 (located on Great Jones Street in Manhattan). Johnny, as his family and friends called him, was an amazing young man. At the young age of 27, Johnny was among the 343 missing firefighters helping the thousands of New York citizens down to safety. He was last seen in the lobby of the North Tower, 1 World Trade Center, by a fellow firefighter from Engine 33, located with Ladder Co. 9 on Great Jones Street.

Johnny was born and raised in Staten Island, and is survived by his mother, Helen, his father, John, his brother Thomas, his two sisters, Mary and Jeannie, his two nephews Thomas and James, and his niece Margaret. Johnny attended St. Charles Catholic Elementary School, he then attend St. Joseph by the Sea Catholic High School and went on to attend St. John's Catholic University all located in Staten Island. He was an amazing person, not only to his family, but to all those who encountered him. He was very happy with his life and for that I am grateful.

His dream was to become a firefighter and he was for 8 months before his death. He worked for Ladder Company 9 for 6 short weeks before September 11th. The morning of September 11, 2001, Johnny had worked an overnight shift which had ended that morning at 9:00 a.m. His fellow firefighters insisted that he go home, but being Johnny, he jumped onto the fire truck going to the World Trade Center. That was Johnny, a very loving and giving person, never concerned for his own safety, but the safety of others.
(Tribute submitted by Mildred Rodriguez and Thomas Tierney.)

On Father's Day, as Helen Tierney heard the news that three firefighters in Queens had been killed on the job, her heart broke. For the men who died, she cried. For her son John Patrick Tierney, 27, a probationary firefighter training in Queens at the time, she rejoiced that he had had that day off. "He always said, 'Don't worry, Ma. Everything will be fine.' And it was."

So, on Sept. 11, when his unit, Ladder Company 9 in Manhattan, was called to the World Trade Center, she clung once again to her youngest son's words. Her prayer was that he had headed home to Staten Island that morning. But Mr. Tierney had hopped a fire truck so crowded that he was forced to sit in a colleague's lap. "The other guys told him he didn't have to come," Mrs. Tierney said. "But from the first day he went to probie school, he worked hard, he really wanted to be part of the Fire Department."

And he was, for six weeks.

I can’t personally memorialize all 343 firefighters who died that day. But I can remember one, and Tierney is the one I’ve chosen. And I can tell people like you about him.

Back on September 10, 2001, the day before life changed as we know it, I was 31. I would have looked at Tierney and said, “Meow! FDNY! Sign me up!” He’s definitely someone I would have wanted to date…I’ve always had a thing for first responder-types. Seriously, even as a little girl, I liked the firemen/police officers/paramedics/military guys. Any man in a uniform was all right with me-okay, and still is. I guess I’m a groupie. God, was life ever that carefree?

Fast forward 10 years. I’m 41 and twice divorced. Tierney is still 27, and always will be. He never got married, he never had kids. He’s still a probie with 6 weeks on the job. In these intervening years, we’ve sent thousands upon thousands more of our young men and women to Iraq and Afghanistan to satiate and protect Americans like me. I sent my own son, and praise be to God, he came back to me. I no longer look at Tierney’s photo and think about what a nice guy he would have been for me. I look at him and think, what a nice boy for one of my daughters. I don’t think of him as “Tierney” so much now. I think of him as “Johnny.” Like a mom would. Like his mom would. The difference being, my son came back. Her son didn’t. I didn’t get the call that Mrs. Tierney got that morning. I didn’t have the memorial service for my son, and my son’s name isn’t engraved on some random girl’s dog tag, hanging from a rearview mirror.

My son didn’t have to go into the Army, there was no draft. He knew when he did that he would certainly go to war; it had been well underway for years. But he did it anyway. Johnny didn’t have to go either. Read the articles – he had just finished his shift; his supervisor told him to go home. But Johnny did it anyway. Because that’s what our American sons do when we raise them right.


On September 11, 2011, the memorial will be open to the public at the site. Next year on September 11, the associated museum is scheduled to open. I hope to go someday. The Patriot in me wants to put my hands on Tierney’s name etched in that bronze slab and honor what he did. The Mom in me wants to wash Johnny's name with my tears.


I’m proud of Tierney. I’m proud of Johnny. God bless FDNY and everyone else who runs into the building when everyone else is running out. As long as I live, at least one of you will never be forgotten.

Information about John P. Tierney was pulled from these sites and publications:

www.legacy.com

bravestmemorial.net

New York Times 11/28/2001

For info on dog tags and other memorial items for military MIA, KIA and 9/11 victims, go to: www.memorialbracelets.com

Getting Firefighter Fit

Let us begin at the beginning - the answer to our last fire exam question was "b".  Congratulations to Kas, you got it right.

A moment of tragedy to share with you.  Evidently the folks at firehouse.com have decided that allowing member blogs on their site is no longer a good idea.  So, hopes dashed, heart broken, sob sob - our little shindig has lost a little exposure.  But fear not, dearest reader - we shall press on together here on blogger.com and take the virtual world by storm, with or without Firehouse Magazine's help.

Yesterday was my first day of strength training.  If you recall, we are using the "Get Firefighter Fit" program, which emphasizes a small number of sets with a large number of reps.  Our first workout, which we will be doing for the next 2 months, is called the "Firefighter I Candidate workout."  We will then move through 3 other workouts, and at the end of it all, we will be Firefighting Amazon Queens.

So last night, I came home from work, put on my new workout pants (my awesome new Leary Foundation "stay back 200 feet" tshirt won't be here until tomorrow, but when it comes, I'll  look freakin' amazing), added some fresh makeup, grabbed my gym shoes and notebook - and away I went.

Yes, I put on fresh makeup before I went to the gym.  Need I remind you that I'm SINGLE and 42 and living in the middle of FREAKIN' NOWHERE?  I am NOT passing up ANY opportunity to look cute in public.  Don't judge me.

The gym was PACKED.  I couldn't believe it when I pulled up and saw a full parking lot.  Most of my exercises were using free weights, so I pounded through those.  When it came time to hit the Smith machine for my lunges, squats, and bench presses, some jackwagon hogged it forever another member was using it, so I moved on.  I did learn that my full strength training workout can be completed in about 35-40 minutes, so I think I'm going to try it on my lunch hour instead to avoid the crowds.

The workout was challenging, but I had no problems completing all 15 reps with the weight levels I had picked.  I was heartily patting myself on the back as I hit the one flight of stairs which would take me back to the locker room.  That's when my left knee decided to start a discussion.

And here's how it went down.

STEP 1:  Good job, Tina.  Good workout.
STEP 2:  My, what a wonderful, exhilarating burn I feel in my left knee.  I must really be doing well.
STEP 3:  Golly, it almost feels a little painful.
STEP 4:  Ow.
STEP 5: OW.
STEP 6:  IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, WHO PUT ALL THESE DAMN STAIRS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GYM?

I then hobbled/hopped into the locker room - in front of the young skinny attendant, of course, who gave me that "I hope the old woman doesn't die in front of me" look, and said..."Are you OK????"  I assured her that I was, because after all, I'm a firefighter in training who has endured natural childbirth 4 times, and a little thing like a knee twinge will NOT pull me under.  So there.  Funny thing is, once I was on flat ground, I was fine.  Really.

Tomorrow is strength training day again.  We shall see, folks.  We shall see.

Don't forget to sponsor a firefighter in the stairclimb - link to the right.  I've officially adopted Stevens County 1, and hope that at least 1 of them is single and over 40. 

Our exam question of the day:
If a painted metal pipe needed to be turned to thread it into a fixed coupling, what kind of wrench would probably be suitable?
a.  Stilson wrench
b. Torque wrench
c.  Strap wrench
d.  Crocodile wrench

Scott Stair Climb Seattle - 2012

This is me and my dad, circa 1971. Of all our daddy/daughter photos over the years, it’s my favorite – I look grumpy, he looks like Elvis.  And yes, that stroller is probably solid lead and I’m certainly lucky to be alive.  Check out his tan line from the watch he evidently decided not to wear that day.

I don’t know what was going on that day.  From the attire, I’m guessing I was taking a springtime stroller ride to my grandparent’s house, which was a block away for the first 16 years of my life.  My dad probably had the day off work – he worked construction on hydroelectric projects, so days off were pretty precious to him – and my mom must have cajoled him into having his picture taken with Baby Girl.  The rest of the day’s agenda is long forgotten.   I do know, however, that about 12 years after this picture was taken, my dad was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and spend the next several years fighting cancer.  And that kid in the stroller would spend her high school years being “the kid of the guy with cancer”, always spoken in hushed tones.  To be blunt, none of us (including his medical team) are quite sure how he survived.   I’ve jokingly stated that my dad has been trying to die of cancer for 30 years, but hasn’t figured out how yet.  This is not far from the truth, as we’ve dealt with the effects of disease and chemotherapy on his body and a relapse a few years ago.

In March 2012, my firefighter friend Alex is driving to Seattle, donning 75 pounds of turnout gear, taping this photo of Dad and me to his helmet, and racing up 69 flights of stairs to raise money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.  You blog diehards may recall that I will be volunteering at this event.  We firefighters in training don’t get to climb stairs (DARN).  There will, however, be up to 1500 firefighters participating – and the honor of participating in the event is via a PURCHASED TICKET.  This year, those tickets were gone within an HOUR of their availability online.   I get asked a lot why I chose firefighting for my blog project this year – here’s one of many reasons, dearest reader.  A prime example of the character of those who choose the life of a first responder, which deserves to be acknowledged and applauded. 

Anyhow, the time has come to start raising funds for this event.  All of the funds we come up with will be donated via the Stevens County Fire Protection District No. 1 team, of which Alex is a member.  My bff Mike at Red Devil Training also serves as the chief of this district.

Here’s a link that you can use to donate online to this event, at whatever level you like.  If you are squeamish about giving your credit card information out online, I can process a check for you.  Just contact me directly and I’ll provide you with my mailing address (you can email me here or you can post your email address as a comment to this post).  Your donation can be made in your own name, in honor of someone else, or anonymously, if you so choose.  Also, if you have a website/blog/or if you are a business person, I would be honored to show you my gratitude by adding a link to your site here on my blog for the year.  Again, message me and we will work out the details.

I have no doubt that this organization played a role in the development of my father’s treatment back in the 80’s which saved his life and gave him the opportunity to watch his kids and grandkids grow up.  Maybe you have someone in your family, maybe a friend, who has been hit with either leukemia or lymphoma.  Maybe you don’t have that person with you anymore.  If you aren’t the child of a survivor like I am, but rather the child of a victim, God bless you tonight.

One last note – here’s a link to a video of Stevens County 1 participating in the 2011 Stair Climb.  I’ve watched it, oh, a zillion times.  I don’t know who created it, but they did a really good job.   And yes, the big honkin’ omelet scene makes me want to gack.  Stevens County 1 obviously needs me – they don’t know that firefighters are supposed to be Vegan.