More Rally, Please

This past weekend, the hubs and I were in New York for a rally race. The Black River Stages. This was the first time we've attended this particular event, and it was a lot of fun.
Since our car wasn't quite ready in time to race this one, we volunteered to help crew for a friend of ours, who had just recently completed his first stage rally build.

                                                    (Here is his finished car, ready to race.)

This was the first event for driver, Todd, but luckily, he had a seasoned veteran in his co-driver, Brian.

                                         (Brian, left, Todd, right. Hank the Gnome, middle.)

I could tell you all about how the race went, that they had a minor off very early in the event, but recovered to place 5th in their class. But that's not why I'm writing this. Not that that isn't a good thing, mind you. We are very proud of them, and pleased with the result, and how the car survived nearly unscathed from its first outing.
But what I really want to write about today is how much I love this sport. I've been home now for two days, and I am still having withdrawals. I miss the sound of the cars, the smell of fuel, and the hustle and bustle of service. I miss all of our rally friends.
You see, rally isn't just about the race. It's about connections. From the moment you step into this world, you become a part of something. A family of sorts. Crazy and dysfunctional though it may be. You see old friends, and make new ones. And there are no awkward initial meetings. It's instant. The passion we all share for this sport creates a bond that is unique and quite strong. Over the weekend, I saw teams helping each other. Drivers and co-drivers offering advice and support to one another. I saw crews jump in to help other competitors, even in the same class. I saw people sharing food, tools, shelter from the elements, and more. And this isn't a rare occurrence, either.
This. Is. Rally.
This is why I love it. This is why I count down from one event to the next. This is why I am so proud to be a part of this world. The friendships, the laughter, the excitement, the disappointments, the struggles, the celebrations... all of it. There is no comparison.
This weekend, like many rally weekends, Mother Nature decided to make things challenging for us. From high winds, to thunderstorms and torrential rain. But we banded together, and we made it through.

                                             (Here's our little crew, waiting out the storm.)

Crews pitched in to help each other pack up and take shelter, while we waited on our cars to arrive. But no amount of rain could dampen our spirits. Through it all, there were smiles and laughter. And after the storm had passed....

                                           
We had a rally rainbow. And amidst all the chaos of service, you saw everyone stop for a moment and admire the beauty of that wonder of nature.
Nature is a big part of rally. The stages are set in some of the most stunning places you'll ever see. And it rarely goes unnoticed.

These are the paths less traveled. The roads that lead to real happiness. Whether you are a competitor, volunteer, or spectator, you can't help but be in awe of some of these views. Views you might otherwise miss.

But don't let the peaceful, serene sights fool you. This is still a race. The cars are fast and fierce. The competition is tight, and the danger is very real. Not all the cars survive. With challenging terrain and tricky conditions, anything can (and often does) happen. But that's all part of the intrigue.

(Just a few of the vehicles competing at BRS.)

These drivers and co-drivers have to be skilled, and courageous. This isn't a sport for the weak minded or faint of heart. I have the upmost admiration for these folks, and I hope when it comes time for our first race, that I have what it takes. I love rally. I love the highs, and even the lows. For it's during those times that you see what these people are really made of. The spirit, the drive, and the fight to push forward, no matter what stands in your way. They may fall, but they always get back up. That is the heart of rally. That is the blood that pumps through the veins of everyone in this sport. That is the bond that unites us all. That is what keeps us coming back, time and time again.



How Do You Define Family?

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about family, and what that word means to me.
To most people, family means the people you share DNA with, or who have your same last name. But it's not always that simple to define.
I grew up in a semi non traditional family. My parents had 4 kids together, but I also have two half siblings from my father's previous marriage. (I have two step brothers as well, from my mother's second marriage.) And growing up, we had a plethora of foster kids in and out of our home for several years.
Fast forward to middle school, and I am given the assignment of making a family tree. I sit down with my parents to work it out, and realize that most of the relatives that I have grown up loving are not actually related to me by blood. My extended family is a true showcase of what it means to love and accept the family we are born into, along with the family that we find along the way.
My grandparents didn't buy into the YOUR kids and MY kids idea. It was OUR kids. Period. That mentality has blossomed and become second nature with my relatives. I could spend hours trying to sort out the who's who, but none of that matters. The only thing that matters is love & loyalty.
When I think about family, I think about the people who have been there for me through thick and thin. The people who have supported me, even when I didn't deserve it. The people who have laughed with me, cried with me, and grown with me. To be fair, some of those people ARE related to me by blood, but many, many more are not. They are the family I've chosen. And the family that has chosen me.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about what it means to be a mom, and how many don't consider me a "real" mom, because I didn't carry my son inside of me. My friend Thea summed it up perfectly. She said "You didn't grow a child inside of your belly, you grew him inside of your heart." and I truly think that is a beautiful way of viewing it. I think real families are grown in the heart.
Family isn't about DNA, or last names. It isn't about who gives birth to you even. The true sign of a family is so much deeper than that.
Some of you are lucky, and your blood family is all you could ever ask for. But for many of us, those familial connections come from somewhere else.
Maybe it's a step parent, or foster parent who raised you. Maybe it's best friends who feel more like siblings. Maybe your only family is the one you made yourself, with your spouse and your children. Whatever that connection is, it isn't any less real because it doesn't fit the "traditional" design.
The mark of a family isn't in shared blood. It is in the ones who would bleed for you. The ones who would give their life for yours. The ones who sacrificed time, energy, sweat and tears to make a place for you in their lives, and their hearts. The ones who you know, without question, you can count on no matter what. The ones who love you, not just at your best, but at your worst. The ones who see your value and worth, even when you can't. The ones who pick you up when you fall, lend a shoulder to lean on, and wrap you in their arms when everyone else walks away. The strongest families are the ones who have walked through fire together, and come out the other side.
I want to take a moment today and say thank you to my family. You know who you are. As dysfunctional, weird, and crazy as we all are... I couldn't imagine my life without any of you. I love you all. Thanks for putting up with me.

The Unique Bond of Sisters

I talk a lot about my brothers, because they are a very big and important part of my life, but I should also point out that I have an amazing big sister. She is almost 15 years older than me, so our relationship is different than most.
When I was very little, my big sister was my world. She was my hairstylist, my babysitter, my idol and my buddy. She would take me places with her & her friends and she treated me like I was the coolest thing since sliced bread. She & her friends would make me clothes in Home Ec, buy me toys, and teach me lots of new things. I loved every minute of it.
Unfortunately circumstances beyond my control took her from my life for many years. One day I just woke up and she was gone. I didn't know why, I only knew I missed her like crazy. I won't get into the details, let's just say sometimes things happen in a family, and people react harshly. Those reactions can lead to decisions and actions that snowball and greatly effect the people around them. I was too young to understand these things at the time, I only knew that someone very, very important to me was gone. This has a lasting effect on a person. After awhile, I started to realize she wasn't coming back, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I wrote her letters that I couldn't mail, and I slept with her picture under my pillow. I cried a lot. When you only have one sister, losing her leaves a hole that can never be filled.
Luckily for me, many years later, circumstances allowed us to be reunited. It wasn't easy, and with a big age gap, and so many missing years, it took time to rebuild our relationship. But we never gave up. We saw each other as often as we could, and we built a new kind of bond. We learned about each other, and talked about the things we had missed out on in each other's lives. Eventually, we formed a friendship. As I got older, and we had more in common, that friendship grew & it continues to grow to this day. She is more than just my big sister, she is my best friend. We don't talk every day, or even once a week. Sometimes we allow too much time to pass between visits, but we make up for it when we get together. I always know that no matter what, I can count on her to be there. No questions asked. She may not always understand me, or agree with me, but she always loves me. She often tells me I'm crazy, or bitchy, or a pain in the ass, but she does it with a smile and a laugh that tell me she loves me in spite of those things.
My sister never had it easy, but she always fought for what was important and she never gave up. She has a strength of character that is rare, and I admire it. She is far from perfect, and she doesn't try to be, and that is her best quality. She accepts people for who they are, and sees the best in them. She doesn't judge or criticize, and she's always willing to lend a hand to someone in need. She would give the shirt off her back to help a stranger and not think twice.
 Sometimes I wonder what our relationship would be like if we had never been apart. Would she still like me, or would she have grown tired of having her baby sister around? Would we have the same appreciation for one another as we do, for having been seperated? I don't know, and I never will. All I do know is that I have an amazing big sister, and she means the world to me, and I probably don't tell her that enough. So this one's for you, sis. I love you.

 

I don't have a lot of photos of my sissy and I (she's a *tad* camera shy)

but I've always loved this one of us from many years ago. 

Have a very Berry Christmas!

Well, it's Christmas Eve. Hopefully, all your presents are bought and wrapped, your cookies are baked and decorated, your halls are fully decked and you are set to enjoy the magic of Christmas.
If not, well... I wish you the very best. :)
I know for me, Christmas Eve means watching 'A Christmas Story' at least 3 or 4 times and enjoying tasty cookies and snacks. Growing up though, this day meant something very different. As a kid, my siblings and I would spend the day planning out our Christmas morning adventure. Usually this included trying to find all the booby traps my father set in his attempts to catch us in the act of extra early morning spying. Over the years, my old man had gotten pretty clever. Once he lifted the carpet on the stairs and installed an alarm button, that when we stepped on it, triggered a warning in their bedroom. Another year, he hid a microphone in the tree so he could hear us whispering when we snuck out to it. Needless to say, no matter how well we planned, we always got busted. But it was fun to draw our maps & plan our attack anyway. And it killed time until we went to our family Christmas party. This was always a good time. Lots of delicious food, hanging with the family that we only saw a few times a year and singing carols around the piano. The night always ended with reading "The Night Before Christmas" and on the drive home, my dad would say we needed to hurry and get to bed before Santa came or he would have to skip our house. To prove his point and speed up the program, he would point at the red light on one of the towers and say "Uh oh, that's Rudolph right there, we'd better hurry." Of course, we didn't know that it wasn't really Rudolph and Santa, so we got to bed lickety split. But it was a short term fix. Within an hour, we were all piled into one of our bedrooms, maps in hand, ready to outwit our dad. Thus insued a night long mission to catch Santa in the act and of course get the first glimpse of our gifts. These are the memories I treasure the most. Looking back, I realize the magic wasn't the actual gifts (although, don't get me wrong, getting the Strawberry Cafe was quite exciting) it was more the traditions and spending time together that has stayed with me all these years. But times have changed, and so have my traditions. I still miss the old ones, but I treasure the new ones I've made with my own family and look forward still to new ones in the future. Christmas may change as we grow older, but the magic doesn't have to. We can still enjoy time spent with loved ones and even sing a carol or two, even if it's just while you're alone in the car. The point is, Christmas is what you make of it, so make it magical.
Hug your loved ones, play with the kids, donate to charity, sing carols at the top of your lungs and rock that fabulous holiday sweater. It only comes once a year, so make it count.
I hope you all have a blessed and beautiful, very Berry Christmas. XOXO