Water Balloon Fights, Promotions, and Aging Gracefully

Thread has a sister organization, called Team Tassy, a foundation that accompanies families out of poverty in Haiti, helping them to become self sufficient, and breaking the vicious cycle that poverty perpetuates.  Thread's founder and CEO, also founded Team Tassy.

And while we are two separate organizations, with different legal structures, and different staffs, we tend to be all up in each other's business 1) because we like each other and 2) because our work collaborates and runs into one another frequently.

So, months ago, when I first learned that Team Tassy would be throwing a giant water balloon fight as their annual fundraiser this summer, because they believe that giving should be a joy, and what is more joyful than spending a Saturday in July at a park in downtown Pittsburgh throwing water balloons to fight global poverty with 3,000 of your closest friends? I said I'd be happy to help out in any way I could.

On Tuesday when I found out I had been promoted to "Trash Captain" (I can't make this stuff up) AND would be overseeing the fight security, I realized I had a lot of work to do.  I asked if I could bring my bow and arrows as part of the security strategy, which I might still do, and wrangled up some trash bins and dumpsters and recycling receptacles, and made some humorous signs to motivate people to recycle/promote Thread, and as these things somehow always do, everything has come together, and tomorrow should will be great.  Did I ever think there would be a time in my life I'd be able to throw together a waste management plan for an event of 3,000 people in a morning? No. But then again, most aspects of my life right now would have been unimaginable until a year ago, and I've never had more fun.

Last night, while we were filling water balloons, which for the record I could do now in my sleep, I mentioned that I was planning to wear a purple sequined baseball hat at the fight*. Because, I explained to my bemused volunteering friends:

1) I will be in the sun all day tomorrow and there isn't enough SPF in the world to last all day, and I won't have time to run around re-applying sunblock every hour anyway.

AND

2) At these kinds of events you are often looking for people/people are looking for you, and more times than not they've never met you, so this way, someone can say "Go find Kelsey, she's wearing a purple sequined baseball hat." and there will be no confusion over who I am because I seriously doubt anyone else will also be sporting a purple sequined baseball hat.

I finished this explanation, and Ian looked at me, shook his head and said, "you are going to make a fantastic old lady someday."

Which, yea, I took as a compliment. And also? It's true. I will.

So, if you are in Pittsburgh tomorrow, swing by Point State Park, hang out with some awesome people, sling some balloons, admire my hat, and help out an organization that is truly shifting the needle for some really great families.

*Regina, I know you'll totally appreciate the importance of discussing what a "water-balloon-fight-cute-outfit" would consist of, while prepping for the event.

Let Them Eat Cake

I have the honor of co-chairing the Midwife Center's Annual fundraiser this year, with my event-planning partner in crime Regina.

We were volunteering at a Midwife Center event last night, and decided to create a video invitation to the event.

I hope you can join us on Saturday, May 7! It really is a great event.

Run Baby Run

I was 19 when I ran my first 5k.  Basically an adult.

One of the things I remember noticing were how many kids there were running that race.  Up until then running races had seemed completely beyond my capability.  After that first 5k however, I was hooked, and continued increasing the length and frequency of the races I'd enter until I ran the Philly marathon last fall.

I could go on and on and on about how much I love running, but that's not what this post is about.  This post, is about a program called Girls on the Run.  Girls on the run is an international running program for girls in 3rd-5th grade.  For three months the girls meet twice a week to run, and the program culminates with a 5k race.  In addition to running we discuss issues like self-esteem, peer pressure, and healthy living habits.

I've wanted to get involved with this program for a while, and this spring, was finally able to work it into my schedule, so I am an assistant coach.  It is so. much. fun.

For one thing, now that I don't babysit anymore, I am hardly ever around children.  My friends aren't having kids yet, I don't teach, and it's dawned on me that it's very strange how I am completely detached from an entire segment of the population.

Secondly, I had forgotten how little 8-10 year olds are.  They are adorable.  And still at that age where they're goofy, and nice to one another, and it breaks my heart to think that in a couple of years they'll turn into mean girls.  (I think they'll come out on the other side of puberty just fine though.)

Third, getting to share my love of running with these girls is awesome, and it's also so cool that they're getting introduced to running in a 5k already.  I wouldn't have changed the fact that I was singing 6 hours a week at 10, but I would have certainly preferred Girls on the Run to intramural soccer, and it would have been cool to begin my love affair with running earlier in life.

Spending time with these girls helps to put things in perspective as well.  Last week we discussed emotions.  At one point during the conversation one of girls was talking and said "...I mean, because most people are really happy and content, so..."  She continued talking, but I don't think any of us coaches heard the rest of her point.  We were totally fixated on the statement "most people are really happy and content."  She said it so surely, like it was an obvious statement.

How awesome, for that to be your view of the world, and how awful that it isn't more true.  We are so good at making our own problems, when really we should be the happy content people these kids think we are.