Roots & Wings

The Physics of Water Displacement, or Why I Now Love Swimming

2012-01-19T12:11:00.000-05:00

In my last post, I wrote about 2012 being my Year of Trying New Things ; one New Thing I have a love/hate relationship with is swimming. Yep. Since before Christmas, I've been dragging myself out of bed and off to the pool at our local YMCA for what my friend Fast Jessica has dubbed "Master's Swim." Mondays and Wednesdays, I'm in the pool for 5:30 am.

A couple of things here: 1) I hate getting up early, especially during the Winter when my bed is warm, and the pool is...not; 2) Ugly one piece swim suit + pasty Winter skin + jiggly body parts; 3) As a Sagittarius (fire sign), I'm instinctively cautious around water. I like water, but I don't like water, you know? 4) New commitments are scary.

So I'm getting ready to head to the pool the other morning, and I'm really just not feeling it. I'm in the middle of testing students at work (read: 12 hour days), and I've been battling a persistent cold for over a week; both of these factors make ignoring the 5 am alarm pretty tempting. Not. Even. Motivated. One. Bit. UGH.

But I've made a commitment to myself and the other Master Swimmers (bt dubs, "master" just means "adult"- I am quite clearly a novice) to be there. Accountability, right? I follow as much of the posted workout as time allows, swapping things like 4 X 100 breast stroke for kicking, breathing, and pulling drills. Mojo still under the blankets, I go anyway.

I make my way from the locker area to the showers to the pool, grabbing a kick board and pull buoy on my way to my lane, when I notice something new by my fellow swimmers' lanes: swim fins. See #4 on that list above. I try to ignore them, but Captain Andy explains the sizing system and the benefits of incorporating them, and points to the sets he thinks will be my size. Um, thanks?

I grab the fins, and set them at the pool's edge with my other equipment. I get in the pool and get through the warm up and the first drill of the workout. The second drill involves the fins. Up until this point, I was hardly what you could call "engaged" with this workout. I was putting in the time, padding my workout log, helping heat the pool with my body warmth. Also, I was nervous.

Swim fins? I still have to talk myself through breathing while swimming, and these guys want me to try fins? In my head, I likened "me + fins" to "new driver + Porsche 911": we aren't ready for each other yet. If my palms were sweaty from the anxiety, I'm thankful no one else was the wiser. I put on the fins, and make a remark about how goofy they look. Deep breath in, and...I. Am. Flying.

Really and truly, all of a sudden I was Dara Torres . I stopped at the end of my lane and said, "WOW!" Out loud, even, because there was that much of a difference. Swim fins = Porsche 911. Giant smile. Before I have to leave, I finished what I could of the workout in a totally different state of mind than when I started. All of the anxiety about trying something new was gone. Thank you, Swim Fins! I love swimming!

And isn't that how life is sometimes? Even though we may say we're committed to trying new things- even verbalizing our intentions- we sometimes struggle with follow through. Even when we are presented with an unexpected tool to help us move forward, we still resist. That day at the pool, the swim fins were my helping hands (or feet?) in sticking it out ; my resistance was literally erased by embracing something new rather than pushing it aside and saying, "I'm not ready."

New Year + Trying New Things = New Outlook. New blog post to follow soon. In the meantime, I'll see you at the pool.

2012: The Year of Trying New Things

2012-01-01T11:06:00.000-05:00

...my resolutions will be manageable and relevant...my resolutions will be manageable and relevant...my resolutions will be manageable and relevant. That was the thought going through my head last night as I drove home from Fast Jessica's house, sober and happy to have spent the evening with friends who seem like family. Not that my goals last year were not either of those things, but clearly they weren't relevant enough to stay in the forefront of my mind, and thus be checked off the list (learn to play golf, I'm lookin' at you!).

For 2012, I have decided that this shall be the Year of Trying New Things. Notice that I didn't "resolve" to do anything in particular, but instead have only made the goal to try something new. Doing so everyday is pushing it, but I'm pretty sure that I can manage to give new experiences a chance, however they present themselves.

Some of the "new things" I'd like to try do include past (failed) resolutions- like learning to play golf- because I see these things as relevant to opening more doors, presenting more opportunities for personal growth, creating more happiness in my life. And who doesn't want to be happier?

I'm excited and anxious to see what 2012 will bring my way. I'm hoping to be more fit, more spiritually centered, and more open to things than I have been in the past. Not gonna lie, 2011 was a very trying year for me. I like to think that I came out of it a stronger person, and that whatever struggles I faced weren't obvious to those around me; that I was able to walk down my path with grace and unselfishness; that I was somehow helpful to others- in some way, in some little way, in any way- who may have had their own struggles in 2011. I hope I was able to give guidance without being asked to, and only to have led by example, not succumbing to pettiness, sadness, fear, or ignorance.

I hope that when people think of our shared encounters from 2011, they smile and hope for more of the same in 2012. I know I do.

So to my loyal baker's dozen readership (and anyone else reading this), I wish you all a happy and healthy New Year filled with the love of your family, visits with old friends, new experiences, and growth beyond your expectations.

Balance

2011-12-06T22:31:00.004-05:00

As I was walking through the airport the other day, I spotted an older couple- maybe mid-to-late-70's- holding hands and talking about the different sights the airport had to offer; I was immediately struck with one thought:

I want that.

I want someone who will hold my hand in the airport when I'm wrinkly. Because they want to hold my hand. Because maybe I need them to hold my hand. As I watched this couple interact, it occurred to me that one of two things could be at play: 1) this couple wanted to hold each other's hands as a sign of affection, or 2) this couple was holding on to each other for balance.

And then this thought struck me: "balance" in more ways than one. Physical balance, yes, like "I'll help you balance so you don't fall and break a hip." But also (and maybe more importantly) balance as in yin to yang, salt to pepper, butter to bread. Balance, Jerry Maguire-style: "You complete me."

So often our struggles are about how we will get from Point A (here and now) to Point B (where we'd like to be, like to have, like to accomplish), and we don't stop to factor in balance. Ignoring the need for balance in our lives can have awful consequences, though. We can lose touch with our friends, children, partners, ourselves. We can forge ahead with our A-to-B plans, and even meet those goals, but at what price? Are we able to maintain balance? Who is holding our hand?

It was my birthday when I wrote this post in my hotel room, and although I'd like to pretend otherwise, I had just realized/recognized the importance of having balance. It's more than finding time to help kids with homework, or having dinner with girlfriends, or going out on a date with someone you like, or squeezing in a workout before bed. It's about all of these, and none of these. It takes a village, right?

It has taken me all forty (!!!) of my years to get this far, and I'd like to extend a sincere thank you to everyone who has helped me find some semblance of balance.

Who is holding your hand? Go say "Thank you. I love you." Hold on, friends.

Annoyed, Defensive, and Relieved

2011-11-04T16:38:00.008-04:00

In the past two weeks or so, I've been one bit annoyed, one bit defensive, and two bits relieved. Let me explain.

So, it's been almost a month since my last post, and you would think that I'd be swatting back men like flies from honey, what with those fairly easy rules for the guys to follow and my super hotness (Ha!). You would be wrong.

I personally don't think that I'm being all that particular with those "rules." My mother, on the other hand, is probably rolling her eyes upward and saying a little prayer for any future dates I may have; I'm told I've always been picky. And I can see where you might think I'm being overly choosy. Wait...no, I can't. I don't think I'm asking that much at all.

You see, I think that I have earned the right to be discerning, that I shouldn't have to "settle" or re-think and re-configure what it is, exactly, that I want from a relationship. I think that I have earned the right to be happy, using my own definition of "happy" and outlining my own parameters for a relationship. Which makes waiting for dates that much more annoying.

What's gotten me on my high horse? Talking to other people in my position, in similar geographic regions, with similar backgrounds. And this article certainly gave me tons to think about. I mean, you would think that with this "husband shortage" in the United States that I'd be willing to budge on some of those rules, that I'd be willing to look in unconventional places for dates (The grocery store! The Secretary of State's office!), and that I'd be willing to date a decent guy who just so happens to be down on his luck and living with his parents "until things turn around."

Again, you would be wrong. (There's the defensiveness I was talking about.)

One of the things that Kate Bolick writes about in the above mentioned article is the immaturity of men in my age bracket, that they are too willing to make do with less, that they can't be bothered to take the initiative, and they don't really see the value in trying so hard. At least that's what I got out of it. That, and how women are paving new roads for the way they'd like to live (like in that all-female apartment complex in Amsterdam), both with and without conventional relationships with men.

I, for one, like men. And I would like to find someone to share my time with. And I'm not about to "settle for Mr. Good Enough", even though I'm pretty sure I've suggested doing just that to at least one friend (and yes, she still talks to me).

Further, I think I need to clarify what it is, exactly, I'm looking for in a relationship: shared goals for the future; shared values; shared sense of optimism, but with a healthy dose of skepticism. Adventure. Romance. Companionship. FUN. Family. Friends. Food. Curiosity. Laughter. Sunshine. Rainbows. Unicorns.

Okay, I'm kidding about that last one. But Potential Prince Charming will spend hours with me dreaming up fantastical stories about those unicorns and making plans about what we'll do when I win the lottery. And if I could spend all of my free time with My Best New Boyfriend and our stories about unicorns and lottery winnings, well then I don't think I'd ever want to do anything else except maybe do all that with a thin crust cheese pizza and some cheap beer.

And since doing all that doesn't pay the bills around here, I'm two bits relieved that I still have a real job. But a girl can only entertain her fantasies for so long before she gets more annoyed or more defensive; and lest you think I'm one of those women who can smile and fake it...

...you'd be wrong one more time.

The Rules

2011-10-12T20:00:00.002-04:00

And so it begins: my foray back into the dating world. It has been twenty-plus years since I've been on a date, and as a courtesy to 1) all the guys lining up to ask me out on dates *that was a joke*, and 2) my friends (hopefully) trying to set me up on dates, I've come up with a list of rules. Without further ado, and after Level One, in no particular order:

The Rules: Level One
Thanks to my friend, Bridgette, for this part of the list.

Any guy hoping to take me out on a date should:
1. have a mouth full of teeth.
2. have a full-time job.
3. not live with his parents.
4. have a sense of humor (but I'm not kidding about those first three rules).

Made it this far? Let's move on to Level Two.

Any guy meeting the Level One requirements can proceed with date plans if:
1. he is still considerably taller than I am even when I am wearing my highest heels.
2. he is at least as smart as I am; I don't want to date someone I have to explain a lot to.
3. he is social without being a party animal or bar fly.
4. he is a non-smoker.
5. he enjoys participating in physical activities that are not sex.
6. he thinks learning is a lifetime activity, not limited to "school years."
7. he is a smart dresser, and has an overall awesome sense of style.
8. he will indulge my inner fashionista with approving looks and compliments.
9. he recognizes that my pickiness extends beyond food and date choices.
10. he understands that no one can out-Martha Stewart me, except for Martha Stewart.

Still with me? You've reached Level Three, Potential Prince Charming.

My Best New Boyfriend will:
1. not buy me chocolate; he will be well-versed in my candy likes and dislikes. The list is long, friends. SO long.
2. understand that ~~sometimes~~ I can swear like a dirty, dirty sailor. Not usually done in public, though.
3. never interrupt a viewing of Project Runway, nor will he argue that Clinton and Stacey from What Not To Wear aren't my friends. Because, oh yes, they ARE my friends.
4. be kind and considerate and not afraid of a little PDA from time to time.
5. give awesome gifts. (Side note: one year for Christmas I received a box that contained a roll of toilet paper, a can of Lysol spray, and a bottle of raspberry-flavored vodka. The piece of paper inside the box said: "Thanks for putting up with my shit. The vodka is to help you forget." I am NOT making that up. Also, I hate raspberry-flavored vodka.)
6. give awesome back/shoulder/leg rubs without complaint, and with the right amount of pressure.
7. be well-versed in popular culture, will enjoy it, and will play bar trivia with me if that's what I would like to do.
8. will love music. Bonus points for being able to play a musical instrument. (However, if you are a "professional musician," you didn't even make it past Level One- why are you still hanging around? Unless you are my skanky boyfriend, Tommy Lee, in which case...)
9. understand that my friends are very much a part of whom I call "family," and that I love my family no matter how crazy they seem.
10. know that a room-temperature Coca-Cola Classic, Lay's Original potato chips, and pink-frosted Loft House cookies are the best & quickest way to my heart.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go set up the velvet ropes for the masses. ;o)

Here We Go Again...

2011-10-02T17:21:00.001-04:00

The past few nights I've had super clear dreams; the one last night had me waking up at 4 am, sweating up a storm (!!!). Anyway, check 'em out:

Thursday night's dream starts with me walking down a street/city block. It kinda looks like the downtown where I live now, but the sky is white, like a backdrop, and the whole place has the vibe of a movie set - or a cartoon storyboard- rather than an actual street. I'm walking with someone (don't see who), when one of those Schwinn Sting Ray bikes zooms up to us out of nowhere and skids to a stop on the sidewalk, blocking our way.

The person riding the bike is none other than my high school friend, Teenie. Her hair is kinky and wild, her eyes are wild, she is grinning wild and breathing hard. She is wearing acid washed jeans, a hot pink long sleeved mock turtleneck top with a red boat-necked blouse over it; the red blouse has white paint splattered on it, like she was actually painting in it (not as a fashion statement), and the whole thing is cinched with a narrow white belt; her shoes are classic white Keds. I look her up and down, and start chastising her: "Oh, no. This is all wrong. You can't go to work like this! You can't let your students see you like this!" Teenie looks at me, still breathing hard, and shrugs "Why not?" Me: "You look tacky." She shrugs again and starts riding her bike along side me & my still unknown companion. We end up at an outdoor wedding reception where my sister Megs shows up out of nowhere and asks me,"How do you like my dress?" I look at her, horrified, because it is a hot pink dress I wore as a bridesmaid back in the early 1990's: puffy, shirred short sleeves; sweetheart neckline; fitted bodice with a "v" seam in front where it meets the full (but not puffy) skirt; the hem of the skirt is tea length in front, and full length in back. Of course, there were Dyables shoes to match. I look at my companion, and say "What the...???" I never do see who my companion is.

Saturday night's dream followed a lovely evening at an Oktoberfest party. The night was crisp, and quintessentially Autumnal. I was home and in bed by midnight, but alas, my sweet slumber was interrupted by...another sex dream.

This is getting old. :o/

This one was pretty graphic, with actual nudity and everything. I do mean Everything. So, yes, I'm one of the naked people gettin' all jiggy with it, and I can see my partner from the start this time. The. Entire. Time. You guessed it: it's Shall Remain Nameless.
Whhooooaaaaaa, mama! I woke up physically sweating, saying out loud to myself, in the dark of my bedroom, at 4am, "That. Was. Intense." Phases of the moon? Phase of my life? A passing phase? Too much beer? I mean, I almost thought that it was a hot flash, but I'm still a bit young for those, and like I said: IN-tensly realistic.

Guess what I'm going to do now? Yep: 1) check out what the color hot pink means in dreams, and 2) continue working on writing those sex scenes, since the dreams don't seem to be going away anytime soon.

Happy Fall, y'all.

Truth #5

2011-09-30T17:30:00.000-04:00

This year has absolutely flown by; it's already October tomorrow! WTF?

More than that, though, October marks the month where one year ago I decided to change my life. And although divorce is something that is sad and awkward and tense and prone to make people avoid you and prone to make you experience jags of frustrated tears, I remain a resident of Hopeful, Unincorporated.

Truth #5: I wish I had the balls to leave earlier than I did.

I know that I cannot change the past. I know that I cannot please everyone. I know that some people may think I am disparaging my wasband and our marriage. Please know that I am not trying to do any of those things, honestly.

This past year has taught me that making the decision to move forward without being married was a Good Decision. Believe me, I played Devil's Advocate with myself and looked at every which way that leaving would be a detriment to my life. There were just more checks in the "pro" column.

And now that I've had some distance from that decision, from the days of living in a friend's spare bedroom, from the days of listening to NPR every evening in the one armchair I bought at Goodwill in my rental dollhouse because I didn't have the extra cash to hook up the cable, from eating the same four meals overandoverandoverandover because they were cheap and the ingredients were available in bulk, from sneaking over to my old house during the day when no one was home to pilfer more of the items from the marriage that I thought I didn't need to share any longer...

...I can say that I wish I had done it sooner. Maybe even years ago.

And now that I reside full-time in Hopeful, Unincorporated, I can look back at the dark days from last winter and this spring, and look at what many would call hardships and smile to myself because I know that I am a capable and intelligent woman, and that my strength comes from my gut, and what I know to be true right there. And so I leave you with this, one of my favorite Jewish proverbs:

"I ask not for a lighter burden, but for broader shoulders."

Truth #4

2011-09-18T17:26:00.000-04:00

I used to think that good deeds would always be acknowledged, that somehow the Universe was tallying the good things we humans do, and that one day our goodness would be rewarded somehow. Like with the lottery machine spitting out winning numbers, or starting that new business at exactly the right time, or with finding a $20 bill in those jeans you put on for the first time since April. This isn't about religion, either, because I know some of you may say: "But darling, God is watching you, and you will reap your rewards in Heaven." And those of you who know me, know that I am rolling my eyes at the thought of hearing those words.

It's not about that kind of stuff; it's about always doing the right thing, always being the bigger person, always being good, and then not seeing anything positive for your efforts.

Truth #4: I am very tired of being the Bigger Person.

I am the person who will always look at the Bright Side when something unfortunate has occurred; I have the wisdom to know that I can't change it, so I need to learn something from it and move on.

I am the person who will never speak badly about my wasband in front of my children, because they are his children, too, and what kind of example would I be setting?

I am the person who will always shake hands and say "It's nice to meet you," even if the person is someone I "know" from word-of-mouth or reputation. And yes, even if the reputation is not a good one. I'm a firm believer in not judging a book by its cover.

I am the person who will stay at work to finish a project or cover for someone who wasn't able to make it in, even though I just know my efforts will go unrecognized, and that the absentee isn't really sick.

I am the person who will go to the wedding/baby shower/funeral despite the fact that I don't really feel like celebrating or remembering with a bunch of people I don't really know that well.

I am the person who will attend my children's school events, even if they never acknowledge my presence and walk ten feet in front of me to get to the car before someone sees them with *gasp* their mother.

I hold doors open for people. I smile at people walking their dogs. I make goo goo eyes and talk funny to babies. I make small talk with people I know from my previous life as a waitress & bartender, and ask about their pets and children and lives, even if they were bad tippers.

And most days, I am okay with this. I recognize that how we treat others is indicative of how we feel about ourselves. But for one day, I would like one of the following to happen: either I would like to be recognized in some way (and it need not even be monumental, like winning the lottery or anything, just...anything), or I would like to have a Free Pass at telling others how loutish their behavior is.

I would like to take children who are in public and acting unruly by their ears and drag them to a corner and tell them in a very stern voice that means ALL BUSINESS that they need to knock it off, already. I would like all bad drivers to stay home. I would like to scrutinize out loud every fashion faux pas I see. I would also like to stand at the checkout counter at the grocery store and refuse to let people purchase certain items; snarling teenager with you? No Mountain Dew or ramen noodles. Does your MediAlert bracelet say you have diabetes? No soda for you either. Are you obese? Only raw vegetables for you today. And no, you can't have soda either. Not even diet.

You catch my drift? I feel like the past month or so I've been biting my tongue so hard and so often that it takes an extreme amount of effort for me to not spew what I'm really thinking at people, lest they get covered in the blood that has been pooling behind my teeth. It's not lost on me, either, Dear Reader that Yom Kippur is coming in just a few weeks.

You may be wondering why,all of a sudden, I feel this way. I won't say (because I am certain that no good will come of me telling you), but I will point you to this post for a clue. In the meantime, re-read the Swedish proverb above, and remember to be thankful for the blessing that is this day.

Truth #3

2011-09-09T20:47:00.013-04:00

I was trolling around my friends' Facebook pages the other day, and *ping!* Up pops a little blue window that says "So-and -so posted on your wall." Oh, really? "So-and-so" is actually my cyber-pal, The Duck (side note: I use aliases for my friends, just in case...).

Oh, Duck- this is why I asked you what I asked you the other day.

Anyway, The Duck had asked about my opinion of candy corn. DUH. It is one of the four major food groups. And I answered her that one of my favorite fall treats is candy corn mixed with cocktail peanuts (Planter's Cocktail Peanuts only, definitely NEVER dry roasted): "It is like a fluffernutter without the bread," is what I replied. I also told her that I didn't allow myself said treat until the calendar read October 1st.

Truth #3: For being such a proponent of live-in-the-moment-ism and new-adventures-ism, I cling very tightly to certain self-made rituals, which cannot and will not be ignored or altered. It is probably an amateur form of OCD, but when you grow up in the Catholic church (and then find out you have some Jewish lineage, too), your life revolves around ritual whether you like it or not.

For your enjoyment (or, for your information, so you know when to avoid my craziness. Or better yet, so you can indulge your need for observing craziness in motion), I've put together a calendar of rituals I follow throughout the year. This list is by no means complete.

JANUARY 1st: Resolution Run. Usually a local 5K, and in years past, still a bit drunk. Coffee and any residual hangover accompanies me while I mark birthdays, anniversaries, etc. in RED INK on my new wall calendar. I usually think back to my childhood at this time, too, when New Year's Day meant a trip to my grandparents' houses for birthday celebrations for my paternal grandfather (January 2nd) and my maternal grandfather (January 17). I really think it was an excuse for another family get-together, and for my male relatives to watch lots of football games and drink beer. JANUARY 16th: Celebrate Daughter #1's birthday. Birthday celebrations include choice of food at dinnertime, and choice of dessert (cake, pie, cheesecake, etc.).

FEBRUARY28th: Celebrate Daughter #2's birthday. See description of birthday celebration above.

MARCH 17th: St. Patrick's Day. Wear something green; drink hot tea and eat buttered toast with grape jam (NEVER jelly) in honor of my maternal grandmother's birthday.

SPRING BREAK: May begin to purchase and consume Cadbury's Creme Eggs. There is no rule for consuming said eggs purchased by someone else; however, said eggs (regardless of purchasing personnel) must be stored in the freezer, and eaten in the frozen state: crunchy chocolate + solid creme filling = miraculous.

APRIL: Opening Day for MLB- adjust work schedule to facilitate viewing of Chicago Cubs' opener; manufacture feelings of hopefulness that "This is gonna be our year!" with beer and popcorn, at least until 7th inning stretch.

MAY: Usually the weekend after Mother's Day- host "Run & Brunch" event for friends. I didn't host the past two years due to Daughter #1's high school graduation, and then my work schedule. I think its going to make a re-appearance in 2012, though. See, I send out super cute invites to all of my runner friends (male & female), inviting them to participate in a local 5K, then come over for brunch afterwards. The first year it was just women, and we just ran one of my regular routes, not a race. The second year we did a local race. It was so nice to feel the camaraderie runners share and to show off my Martha Stewart-like hostess skills. Like I said, its comin' back in 2012. Memorial Day Weekend- Celebrate birthdays galore (my mother, two red-headed brothers-in-law, and now Bunny Boy); bring outdoor furniture out of winter storage, and sit outside on said furniture as long as the sun is shining (please note: snow may still be present).

JUNE: There isn't anything special about June for me, except that ever since I moved to the Upper Peninsula, I've spent the majority of June wondering when Summer will make an appearance.

JULY 4th: Run in Firecracker 5 Mile race. This was my first ever competitive race. Ever. I was training for my very first marathon, and my father-in-law said that I should get some experience doing races, being with lots of other runners. Also, there was the promise of a parade after the race. (Note to my Hog Capitol peeps: It's no Hog Days parade.) I have run it every year since then, and look forward to it, as for me it marks the start of summer. Independence Day is also my favorite holiday. Cookout or potluck party with friends; fire works viewed from the lake shore. Since living in the U.P., cookouts on July 4th have been day-long affairs for me. It used to be my in-law's home, and now it has been time split between my friend Fast Jessica's house (for food and perhaps a beergarita) and My Favorite Redhead's house (for a fire, beer, s'mores, and fireworks). JULY 20th: Eat Polish food in honor of my paternal grandmother. I have been known to consume the dreadful, frozen, store-bought version of pierogi; I do not recommend them unless it is a true Polack emergency. That, of course, means that you've run out of vodka, and if that's the case? Shame on you.

AUGUST: Nothing really special about August, either, unless Labor Day weekend falls at the end of the month. In which case...

SEPTEMBER: Labor Day Weekend, aka Hog Days. This marks the end of summer, for sure. It also marks one of the only times I make it to my parents' house during the year. I haven't been to Hog Days in the past two years (including this year) due to scheduling conflicts with work and other family obligations. I miss it so, so much. This is how it goes: usually the high school football team has its home opener on Friday night. Saturday morning there's the Hog Stampede (4 mile road race), followed at 2 pm by the absolutely fabulous Hog Days Parade which includes some of my favorite things: the Highland Bagpipers, The Marching Grey Ghosts of IVCC (community college), the Youth Rhythm Corps out of the Quad Cities, and my brother the fireman passing the fireman's boot along the parade route for donations to charity. Saturday night is Drinking Night. The bars downtown are in an L-shape on the block; if you go out the back door of one bar, and jog to the left, you'll be in the next bar. The alleyway is blocked off by the police, and you're allowed to wander around outside in this massive beer garden/street party atmosphere. Sunday is when you are convinced you are a volleyball champion, and you will WIN your match in the mud volleyball tournament that day. Some years you are correct. Monday is the Fly In Breakfast at the regional airport, served up by the municipal fire department (the one that takes care of the rural areas rather than calls within the city limits). And then just like *that* your summer is over.

OCTOBER 1st: May begin to mix and consume the afore-mentioned candy corn/cocktail peanut snack mix. Doesn't everybody eat this and love it? No?

NOVEMBER: The Night Before Thanksgiving. Two years ago, I spent Thanksgiving Eve with My Favorite Redhead and her husband, one of my Red-Headed-Brothers-in-Law. I taught him how to mix a proper vodka gimlet, and we and everyone else present drank mightily while singing Billy Joel songs pounded out on the piano & organ in the living room. It was a perfect pre-holiday night, the likes of which I will long for yearly in hopes of recreating it again. Thanksgiving Day- Run the Gladstone Turkey Trot 5K. Except for that year we made gimlets at Red's house. Oops.

DECEMBER 6th: Begin day with phone call from mother where she tells me again about how she remembers this day ("We were out cutting down a Christmas tree, and I told your dad to hurry, because it was time to go to the hospital. And it was so cold! And you were in such a hurry to get here!"). May purchase live Christmas tree and begin household Christmas decoration; may begin annual viewings of "Elf." See? It is part of my birthright to be mandated to wait until my birthday before getting a tree. And I love the movie "Elf." It makes me smile and laugh and feel all warm inside every time I watch it. And what girl doesn't want to feel like that on her birthday?

So call me crazy, say I'm OCD, say I'm silly to follow these self-made rituals, to keep on making these observances year after year. Go ahead, it's fine. Really. I don't care. They are my collected experiences turned into memory, and recognized and venerated in such a way that brings me comfort and happiness,no matter what else life throws at me.

See, Duck? You're not alone when you say that the worse it gets out there, the better you perform, and the more you enjoy what you have in the moment.

Truth #2

2011-09-04T21:26:00.006-04:00

I hate the fact that I wear corrective lenses. Always have.

I remember when my eyes started to change. I was in fourth grade and absolutely loved my teacher, Miss Pillen. I loved her yellow-blond hair, her attitude of fun, her handwriting (what with its curlicues and such). I loved that she used a fine-point ball point pen so much that I bought one for myself with my allowance at the Osco downtown. Seriously, it was kinda stalker-ish how much I loved her.

So, we were in class one afternoon, and Miss Pillen was going over something with the entire class, Math maybe? I was sitting at a table in the middle of the room, and raised my hand at one point because I couldn't make out the stuff on the screen: things were out of focus. So Miss Pillen fiddles with the overhead projector, I look up and work through the next problem, but still can't see anything. Again, I ask for things to be put into focus. By now, the other kids in my class are shooting me looks; What is wrong with you? Its perfectly in focus! Miss Pillen fiddles with the knobs again, saying to me "Now? How about now?" I shook my head, no, its still blurry. And then Miss Pillen says in a very exasperated and completely annoyed voice:

"Maybe you should get your eyes checked!"

She had never raised her voice to me or spoken harshly to me; I was really a good kid, a good student. I started crying, and I thought I was doing a good job at hiding it (it was dark in the classroom, after all), but she came over to me and told me to go wash my face.

I cried just now at the memory, it is so ingrained on my conscience.

How thrilled do you think my parents were to have to take me to the eye doctor? Yeah, with six or seven kids at this time, one of the kids was bound to need glasses, right? (Although none of us needed braces...) And since we're talkin' circa-1982, my choice of frames was, um, limited. Do I even need to tell you that my hair was always home-permed in the skinniest rollers? And that our Catholic school uniforms were less-than-fashionable? I was a sight to behold.

I remember a couple of years later coming home from the eye doctor needing a stronger prescription. Another year, another new, stronger prescription: I was convinced I was going blind. I would come home from school many days and go upstairs to my bedroom, throw my glasses at the wall, and just sob. Big, heavy, mournful sobs that only a self-conscious pre-teen girl can understand, and that a mother can only listen to outside the bedroom door. Inconsolable.

And so, my 12th birthday stands out as one of the best ever if only for the fact that I was finally allowed to get contact lenses. I dream of laser eye surgery now, even though I'm pretty sure my eyes are past the prime state for that. *sigh*

On a happier note, Miss Pillen got married the summer after I had her for a teacher, and became Mrs. Wentworth. She named her first daughter Rachel.

The Month of Truths

2011-09-02T11:53:00.002-04:00

So as an experiment of sorts, I've decided to dedicate the majority of my blog posts this month to telling truths about myself. How do these "truths" differ from secrets? Well, if you know me at all you know these things already: no secret, just part of who I am.

And I figure that if I'd like a relationship with a guy (who isn't just part of a dream), I'd best be up front about myself. What better way to do this than to put it out on the good ol' World Wide Web?!

Shall we begin?

Truth #1 (and let me just state that these truths are not in any certain order, like, this "Truth #1" isn't at the top of my list, the most important thing about me, its just #1 because its the first thing that came into my head when I though about this month-long experiment): I hate surprises.

Yep. Good or bad, I don't like them. I mean, if I won the lottery- yespleaseandthankyouverymuch!- I'd be happy with all the money, but I'd be pissed I didn't know about it ahead of time. Think about it: if the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes Patrol came to my door, I'd sing-song "Just a min-ute!" to make sure I didn't look too unkempt (read: white trashy). A dab of blusher, eyelashes curled, nothing in my teeth, hair smoothed down...and PHOTO READY!

Its all about being prepared, being in the know, being in charge. I have control issues, I know. And if you know me, this is not news; my childhood has something to do with this, I'm sure. (As in, I was much more independent than other kids out of necessity.) Let me give you another example:

If I came home to a surprise party for me, I would kick everyone out of my house and not talk to them for a REALLY long time.

And you'd say to me if you were here right now: But that's mean! Your friends just wanted to surprise you as a means of showing you how much they love you! They wanted to celebrate you WITH you!

No. A thousand times, no. My friends know that any party celebrating "me" would need to be planned in some way by "me," lest I show up and throw a hissy fit over the placement of the flower arrangements or the music selection. Oh, yes. Truth be told, I would.

Vacation

2011-08-14T19:03:00.007-04:00

I am officially on vacation. I have been with my current employer for five years now, and have never taken a vacation. A long weekend for a race, sure, but never a true vacation.

And not that this is a true vacation, either. I mean, who in their right mind uses vacation time to go on two-hour training runs with a friend, go to their sister's wedding, and then host a raucous gathering at their home if they don't have to? Me.

The two-hour training run is with my friend, Fast Jessica; she is training for a full IronMan, and being the good friend I am, I told her I'd keep her company on this run. Did I mention that it'll be the longest run I've done since my Spring marathon? Oy.

This wedding I'm going to is a milestone of sorts: my baby sister (she, my 26-year-old "baby" sister) is the last of the nine siblings to get hitched, and the last of six girls. My dad is going to toast heavily and often this weekend. This is also a different experience for me, too, as it is the first sister wedding I'm not a bridesmaid for. Say it with me, ladies: PHEW!

Anyhoo, after the wedding, I'll need to get things together for the latest installment of B & B. B & B, if you remember, is my book club. I am the hostess this month, and we will be discussing Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes , dining al fresco on some delicious grilled salmon with soba noodles, asparagus and spinach with an Asian dressing, and drinking some sort of Summer-y alcoholic concoction in mass quantities. I am beyond excited to be entertaining my friends in my new place, even though we'll be outside (so small is the new pad).

What's that? Have I read the book yet? You, Dear Reader, obviously don't understand protocol when it comes to book club; we, the Ladies of B & B, are all fine, upstanding, and (in some cases) founding members of Procrastination Nation. And as one of the founders- nay, The Queen- I shall listen to the book on CD as I drive the eight hours to my parents' home in Illinois, gazing out at the sights so familiar to me...

... like the Mars Cheese Castle, the brown IDOT sign for the Bong Recreation Area (*giggle*), signs for Alpine Valley Amphitheater, past the wind farms that dot the fields along I-39 and I-80, all the way to Exit 33, past the Sale Barn Road, past Northeast Park, down Main Street, past the ghosts of the businesses of my youth, all the way to my parents' driveway. My dad will be sitting on the front porch swing with a beer or glass of wine waiting for us. My mom will still be at work. My siblings will come and go, rush here and there, all weekend long.

And then, when the wedding excitement and the nostalgia have subsided, when I have driven the hundreds of miles back to my little dollhouse, when the book has been discussed and the food and drinks have been picked over and over and over...my real vacation will begin.

I know that I will not be able to keep myself from waking up before 6 am, such is the rhythm of my clock these days. But I know this: I will have some wonderfully busy days to reflect upon during the following two totally unscheduled weeks.

Cue the Go Go's...

Let It Go

2011-07-28T19:38:00.007-04:00

This week I was in Washington, DC for a work conference. I usually love traveling, and don't mind traveling alone- its like an adventure for me, navigating around a city, trying to blend in like a local, even going to the grocery store. I love the newness of those first visits.

To add another layer of thrill to this trip, I was meeting up with a friend from my younger days; Brooke and I hadn't seen each other for close to 15 years. Fifteen years!!! I was beyond thrilled when I found out we'd be able to hook up not one, not two, but all three free evenings I had on my schedule. So the packing was in earnest Sunday night, and the alarm was set so I'd make it to our small, regional airport for the 7:45 am connecting flight to Detroit, then on to DC.

I'm out the door to the airport (literally, a three minute drive) by 6:30 am; this flight is usually full of old folks and business folks, both leaving town for destinations far and away. The ticket agent was helping another woman with something, so I proceeded to the self check-in kiosk when the other ticket agent says, "Don't do the self check-in. The flight's been cancelled for this morning." Oh, frr rrllll?! Slightly annoyed, I'm re-routed to leave from Appleton, WI; a taxi arrives a few minutes later to drive me there, $50 travel voucher and $6 meal voucher in hand. Let it go. You were able to get a new flight. I text Brooke and let her know of my later-than-expected arrival time.

Flights are smooth, baggage claim is fine, and the hotel is a three minute drive (again, literally) from the airport. For those of you familiar with the DC area, my hotel was in Crystal City; my conference, on the other hand, was in a new area (planned community, really) called National Harbor. My morning commute from hotel to conference? Well, I had choices: 1) a $60-70 taxi ride each way; or 2) yellow line from Crystal City to L'Enfant Plaza, transfer to green line to Branch station (end of the green line), transfer to NH1 bus to be within one block of the conference site. Because my per diem didn't allow for taxi service, I ended up with a 70-90 minute commute each morning & afternoon. Let it go, Rachel; you could have to try and drive in this hellish traffic.

So my days slogged by at the conference, and my nights were hours and hours of good conversations, good food and drink, and overall good company (and, for the record, I'm good at bar room trivia). Fast forward to this morning. My flight is scheduled to leave DC at 9:42 am for a connection in Detroit, then on to my regional airport. Can you even guess what happened? Yep. Flight to Detroit is fine; flight from Detroit home is cancelled. After a flurry of text messages to Daughter #1, I am re-booked on a flight back to Appleton, leaving in...20 minutes! Now, if you've ever been in the Detroit airport, you are familiar with the terminal set up: terminal A is for flights from larger hubs, while terminals B & C (parallel to terminal A) are for regional flights. The two sets of terminals are connected by a tunnel whose walls are a glass art installation that changes colors. There's even music to go along with the show; see photos here and here, and a video here .

I hate the light tunnel.

So I run in flip flops from terminal A to terminal C, making my new flight just barely. I have a minute to check my message where I find out that its NOT Daughter #1 coming to pick me up, but my was-band. WTF?! As if I didn't already have a headache. As if that's the face I wanted to see and share my stories with while driving for two-and-a-half hours. As if I didn't already just want to get the fuck home, already. I felt so mad and frustrated and helpless and discouraged and...so...trampled. Cue the iPod, over-sized sunglasses, and tears. Let it go, Rachel. It'll be over soon enough.

The drive home is awkward and mostly silent, save for small talk about our daughters and mutual friends, his mother, my parents. And then I hear this song on the CD playing, and I remind myself once again of my good fortunes, of the people I have in my life who care enough about me to stop in the middle of their day to pick me up at the airport 150 miles away. Let it go. This too shall pass. Gam zeh ya'avor. Enjoy the music and fun, and remember that it really is best to stop and reevaluate things before getting all worked up into a kerfuffle.

Heat Wave

2011-07-24T15:29:00.001-04:00

Note: I've never seen the movie advertised in the image above, I just like the image.

Holy crap has it been hot around here! And while I don't mind the heat per se, I do mind the accompanying humidity and lack of breezes, and that makes me crabby. The heat has also had a negative effect on my training/running schedule: I'm at work for 7:30 am (with a 25 minute drive), and I am NOT a morning person (mornings = Crabby Rachel). Morning workout? Not gonna happen. Evening workout? Well, that's when I'll run, but I get home from work around 6 or 6:30 pm, chit chat with Daughter #2, read through the mail, etc. etc. and then before I know it, it's 9 pm.

And there's absolutely nothing wrong with running at 9 pm! If you've had dinner already (which I usually haven't during the week) and have a relatively short (< 7 miles) run on tap. And now that I'm ready to pick up my training for my fall marathon (which I still haven't registered for), well, you can see my dilemma.

I can do one of these things:
1) Get up at 5 am each morning for a cool, quiet run and save weights for the afternoons at work with the teenagers;
2) Get home from work earlier than 6 pm so I can eat a little something before running/weights;
3) Do my weight training at work before I drive home, then run immediately when I get home.

I do not want to run out by work as there are too many hills and not enough trees. Its really only for the next two or three weeks, until my summer programming is completed. And I *think* the heat wave is blessedly on its way out. Which means upping the training, which means making a plan, which means making a commitment.

UGH! Throw into this mix a week in Washington, DC for work, followed by a family wedding, and that puts me into September already. See? Its hard being me.

Now, those new running shoes aren't going to wear themselves out, are they? Week 7 of the Hanson's Plan?: bring it on, minus the heat. And minus the crabs.

Was it the Full Moon, or...?

2011-07-17T14:04:00.001-04:00

...something else? My dreams the past few nights have been particularly clear, and for the most part, mundane: grocery shopping, replaying a scene at work, stuff like that. But then there was a dream Friday night that was a bit more...um...hot.

Yeah, I'm talkin' *bow chicka wah wah* hot. Lawd have mercy.

Without getting too graphic, I'll just say that there was a bed with white sheets, a glimpse of my boob, and some rustling of those sheets, if you catch my drift. I can tell its me (it is my dream, after all). But the guy is obscured from my view (and so is my face, even though- like I said- I know its me) until things are, uh, finished, and we collaspse with my head on his shoulder/chest nook and his arm around me.

It's Shall-Remain-Nameless. Again!

Shall-Remain-Nameless has been mentioned here and here on this blog before, and has always been involved in the rama-lama-ding-dong portions of my dreams. I'm not complaining, trust me: I could do so much worse than Shall-Remain-Nameless. And he is not even what's bothering me about this dream. Its this: am I having these dreams because I'm not getting any? Or because of the full moon? Or for some other reason entirely? Or a combination of those factors? This will keep me guessing and analyzing things for awhile, for sure.

In the meantime, I'm going to work on writing better sex scenes. :o/

Food & Memory

2011-07-15T20:32:00.004-04:00

The photo says "Summer" without me adding any additional words. This afternoon, I began reading a new book, based on food and memory. I love days like today where I have no real plans, and am able to sit outside in my Zero-Gravity Lounger, and often times read an entire book. This one I picked up from the library this afternoon, immediately connected with the author (the specifics of why I connect, is a different post altogether), and was reminded of the power of memory.

I usually get up and stretch, take a bathroom break, and maybe get a snack every hour or so. And just now- yes, I am on a break from reading RIGHT NOW- I looked into the fridge, saw that watermelon and that lime, and was taken back to the early summer of 1990.

I was living in San Diego, working as a live-in nanny for a family with two young kids, and had met a guy at a concert I had attended by myself. I was nineteen, and did things like that. I can't remember the name of the stadium, but the Swap Meet was held in the parking lot every weekend, and Tower Records was kitty-corner from it as well. I think I had seen The Smithereens that night. I met a very sexy, very charming guy named Enrique (I am not making that up), who had long, glossy black hair, a very cute smile, and an accent. Being the teenaged bimbo I was, we totally made out and groped each other, then exchanged phone numbers before going our separate ways that night.

Fast forward a month or so, and we are a couple, and we are at his cousin's house in Anaheim one weekend for a family barbeque/pool party. The beer and rum and vodka and grilled food and sun are all plentiful. The afternoon lingers on, and- a bit drunk- I am walking barefoot around the pool, and step on a glass shard from a broken beer bottle. Enrique's brother, Cesar, sits me down and says "Alguien me traiga una lima." He takes the lime wedge, and squeezes the juice directly on the cut. "Para detener el sangrado." The rest of the wedges were used to dress the slices of watermelon on the nearby food table.

And then, people began taking the watermelon-with-lime-juice slices. But before they ate them, they sprinkled them with salt. I had never seen this before, and I guess it showed on my face because Enrique said to me "Try it. Its the perfect mix of sweet and sour and salty."

And so I did. And he was right.

This memory hit me like a ton of bricks, but in a good way. Its going to make me wistful for the girl I was 20 years ago (if only for a few more hours) as I read my book in the light of the setting Summer sun, in the driveway of my rented dollhouse here in Michigan, where I'm hoping my daily life-and-food combinations become memories anew.

To Do Lists

2011-07-09T20:46:00.000-04:00

Don't you wish your To Do List looked like Patrick Starfish's? I sure do.

I really am a big proponent of To Do Lists, and I certainly feel super-accomplished when I cross items off of the lists I create; I've even kicked my feet up on top of my desk at work when a list has been totally crossed off, crumpled up, and tossed in my Circular File. And I really do create lists for just about everything. They keep me- someone who often has more on her plate than anyone really has a right to- focused.

I honestly don't know how I (or any other List Maker) functioned without Post-Its, though.

I have my everyday lists (grocery/household items lists), and then I have my Work List (a 3" x 3" neon Post-It in the lower right-hand corner of my desk calendar), and then I have my Special Interest Lists. And so, to give you Dear Readers, a glimpse into my life, here are some sample lists:

Sample Grocery/Household List:
cream cheese
sour cream
coffee
coffee creamer
veggie crumbles
corn tortillas
salad greens
Arnold Palmer Arizona Tea
vacuum sealer bags
fresh fruit

Sample Work List:
database entry
roster review & data input for fall testing
call Milwaukee Zoo re: field trip
call re: 5K tshirts
email M. re: equipment
create maps for activity tents
classroom observations
confirm canoes for field trip on Monday
print out travel info for DC trip
staff meeting agenda

Pretty tame, right? Well, look at these, then:

Books to Borrow/Read:
Bright Sided by Barbara Ehrenreich
Room by Emma Donoghue
Private Life by Jane Smiley
The Girl Who Fell From the Sky by Heidi W. Durrow
One Day by David Nicholls
This Is Not The Story You Think It Is by Laura Munson
Shadow Tag by Louise Erdrich
The Gates by John Connolly
The Solitude of Prime Numbers by Paolo Giordano
Freedom by Jonathan Franzen
By Nightfall by Michael Cunningham
The Map of True Places by Brunonia Barry
War Dances by Sherman Alexie
Designated Fat Girl by Jennifer Joyner
The Curse of the Good Girl by Rachel Simmons
How Lincoln Learned to Read by Daniel Wolff
One Hundred Names for Love by Diane Ackerman
The Compass of Pleasure by David J. Linden
Rescue by Anita Shreve
The Checklist Manifesto by Atul Gawande

Music to Download:
"Shadow People"- Dr. Dog
"I Didn't See It Coming"- Belle & Sebastian
"New Low"- Middle Class Rut
"See The World"- Gomez
"Beg, Steal or Borrow"- Ray LaMontagne & The Pariah Dogs
"Kentucky Pill"- Johnny Flynn
"Save Yourself"- Sharon Van Etten
"You'll Be Bright"- Cloud Cult
"Spanish Pipedream"- The Avett Brothers (Yes, I know its a John Prine song. I love John Prine, and have had the pleasure of seeing him live, even. Soooo worth it. But I like this version.)
"Louder Than Ever" by Cold War Kids
"Cameras" by Matt and Kim
"The High Road"- Broken Bells
"Unsingable Name"- Mike Doughty
"Yelling Away"- Zap Mama
"Release the Stars"- Rufus Wainwright
"Big Time Sensuality"- Bjork
"Missed the Boat"- Modest Mouse

And then this:

Sample Life Goal List (and when I say "sample," I mean "this is my real list"):
Complete M. Ed. coursework, maintain 4.0 GPA (so far, so good).
Run a sub-4 hour marathon (only 19 minutes to get rid of).
Buy a house (on hold for at least...one year?...).
Take at least one fabulous vacation each year (this year, that consists of three weeks off in August doing nothing, plus a long weekend in Arizona this November for this, as a spectator).
Go all over Europe, especially Spain and Italy, but not necessarily the U.K. or Germany.
Never live with animals ever again.
Always remain fit and healthy so that I can continue to enjoy this life as laid out above.
Practice generosity and outward happiness. Every. Day.

You can tell lots of things about the things people keep track of, the lists they keep. I know what I think these lists say about me, but what do they say to you about me? I'd love to see the lists you keep, too. Feel free to share, friends.

SOS: What No Woman Wants to Hear

2011-07-01T11:51:00.001-04:00

That's right: its time to get serious about training again. I've got some races picked out, and am ready to really focus on my performances. I bought this book hoping that the author would tell me something like..."You're perfect the way you are! You just need to be doing 50-60 miles per week, that's all." Instead, what I got was "Lose 10 pounds."

Oh, frr rrlllll?!

So frustrating. I mean, I know that. But who really wants to hear it? And I've been trying to lose those proverbial "last ten pounds" since they found me. My diet, by the way, is stellar, with the exception of a very robust sugar addiction. Which, according to the author, I should try to feed with fruits and dark chocolate. *GAAAAAGGGGG* to the dark chocolate (for a primer on my strange food preferences, please go here and here ).

So, now that my summer programming is under way at work, my grad class is over for the term, and I have a bit of a regular routine I can follow, I'll need to start incorporating certain things into my life if I want to be in "peak performance" for my upcoming races. Like, breakfast everyday (duh). And more carbs (so, my preference for PB & J sandwiches can be indulged). And more lean protein (note to self: make friends with local fishermen). And less sugar (DOH!).

I guess I should also start running regularly again if I want to creep closer to that 4-hour marathon finish I want so badly. And start doing some weight training again. And start getting 8-9 hours of sleep each night. And probably should start figuring out a way to save the starving children of the world, cure cancer, and end partisan politics. What am I, Wonder Woman? There's no way that last item is achievable.

I always have such good intentions when starting a training program, and am usually pretty good at holding myself to my commitments, exercise-wise. But like I mentioned in my last post , I've been struggling. There's no impetus. Yes, I have races in mind, but have I registered for them yet? Nope. Part of my resistance might be my propensity toward always looking forward to the next thing, and not focusing on the day-to-day, the here-and-now. If I could afford it, I'd hire a personal trainer and a nutritionist. And a personal chef. And, of course, I'd be so fabulously wealthy that I wouldn't have to go to work each day, so my workouts could be my job.

Fantasy Me: Brock, what does our workout entail today?

Brock, Fantasy Trainer: Fuel first, ma'am! Your chef has a great breakfast here for you. And your assistant should schedule you a post-workout massage. We're going to do some mile reapeats with plyo drills in between.

Fantasy Me: *sigh* I just don't know when I'll have time for that massage, what with that interview with the Nobel Prize committee and all.

Just Jack, Fantasy Personal Assistant: And there's the fitting for your gown for the Met Gala, plus lunch with Anna Wintour, that crazy bitch!

Fantasy Me: Oh, now, she's just so misunderstood, Jack, you know that.

Just Jack: *eye roll*

Brock: I know its hard being you, ma'am, but we need to focus now.

See? Fantasy life is so much easier to navigate than real life.

But back to the exercising: the title of this post is the truth. No woman wants to hear she needs to lose weight, even if at first glance she doesn't seem overweight (and yes, I know that I am more slender than many Americans). So I am asking for tips and advice from my fellow runners:

What has worked for you when you've wanted to lose weight?

Can it be as simple as "Eat and exercise more"? Because yes, I've had people suggest that I'm not taking in enough calories for the amount of exercise I'm doing. I've even started making recovery drinks with chia, and added it to my oatmeal or yogurt. And honestly, I'm not looking forward to the midfulness that eating properly requires. But if you want to lose the weight and run faster, Rachel...

SOS, friends...

Mojo

2011-06-11T10:52:00.001-04:00

Yep. Mine got up and left. WTF?! I was on such a high after my last marathon, and now...nothin'. Makes me crabby.

*sigh*

I could blame it lots of things, I suppose: work, grad school, stress, only having 24 hours each day. But really, I think I might be...you know...the "l" word?...lazy.

AAARRRRRGGHHHH! I can't even bring myself to pull my running gear out of the dresser, much less put it on and go running. I haven't even participated in the Fit Club we have at work for the teenagers (in my defense, school just ended, and there is a two-week lag in programs ending & starting up again). Tony Horton has not looked at me through the television screen and whispered conspiratorially that he wants to see me "jump like a cat." Mee-ooowww!

Okay, so I did run once since the race- a local 5K on Memorial Day-and my time was decent (25:25 or 8:10/mile). But that was two weeks after the race, and I haven't done anything since then. I have had no drive, no desire, no impetus, no anything. I have a giant case of "blah is me."

So I guess I'm asking for some guidance. I know when my next local race is- Firecracker 5 Mile Run, July 2nd- but beyond that, the rest are scheduled so far into the future that I really don't feel any pressing need to get out there and work it, you know? And I know that I should be out there laying down some base miles before my training plans kick in, and that I should be watching my diet (and maybe even re-evaluating my diet?), and that I should care more.

But I just don't.

Could it be that my break from running post-marathon has been too long? Maybe I should have gotten right back into the swing of things? I don't know. I'm thinking that perhaps I need to find some sort of other goal, unrelated to running/fitness, that I should work towards in hopes that the boost to other parts of my psyche will work wonders for my running life. That is my hope.

But for now, only having access to 24 hours each day, I can't fathom taking an hour or two for myself when there's a research paper to be written, daughters to spend time with, bills to get paid, jobs to go to...I could go on.

We have had a terrible, cold spring here, and then last week? About three or four days of HEAT, the likes of which hardly ever come around (it was heavenly!). And now its back to cold, rainy, overcast, yuck. Those three or four days got me thinking about Vitamin D- you know, the "sunshine vitamin?" I felt soooo much better on those days, and am considering adding more Vitamin D to my gummy multivitamin each day. Thoughts???

Whatever I come up with- a different goal, different vitamins, different eating habits- I know it needs to be, well, different. Like I said earlier: AAARRRRRGGGGHHHH.

Me, The Hansons, The Hansens, and a New Racing Approach

2011-06-08T23:58:00.000-04:00

Over the past few years, I have moved my marathon running life from the "train to finish the race upright" to "set a goal time and hit it." You see, I never really intended to ever run a single marathon, much less the two-dozen plus I've finished. I will always and forever blame my running life, with a smile and fondness, on my departed father-in-law.

But this post? This post is about my last race: the Cellcom Green Bay Marathon . It all started with the registration form, and a chat with my friend, Fast Jessica.

FJ: So, which training plan are you using this time? The same one as for Chicago?
Me: Um, no. I liked that last plan, but I'm thinking about the Hanson's plan that was just in Runner's World.
FJ: Wait, doesn't that one have like, NO rest days or something crazy like that?
Me: Yep. Something like that.

So, the Hanson's plan I followed (almost) religiously, can be found as a part of this article . The biggest selling point for me was that my longest run was only 16 miles.
I know, right?!

FJ: So, with this plan, your longest long runs are only 16 miles?
Me: Yep.
FJ: I don't know, Rach. I think I'd just feel better if you came out and ran an 18- or 20-miler with me.
Me: Nah, I'll be fine.

So, like I said, I didn't follow the plan exactly, but I was sure to hit the key strength/speed workouts, and those mid-week long runs, many at MP or faster. I should say now that I'm no speed demon, I've never qualified for/run Boston, and my PR to date for the marathon has been my 4:25:xx finish in Green Bay last year, after gaining a new PR in Tucson the December before (side note: NOT a fan of Pam Reed, and anytime there is too much wind or a bad finish area, its her fault. Just go with it.). So for me, chipping away at time at a steady pace is key, and for this race, I'd be happy with a new PR by even one minute. Remember, I've only recently started caring about my finish times. Aaaannnnnd onward.

Fast forward to about three weeks pre-race. Fast Jessica and I are out for a run that was supposed to be easy for both of us. It was windy (Pam Reed's fault again), and we had to hit 7 miles before we'd have the wind at our backs rather than our faces. Now, as I've mentioned before, when FJ and I run together, we talk. And when we talk, we (okay, maybe just me) go faster than prescribed. We hit 7, and ease up on the pace, finishing up our 10 miles feeling great. Our average pace was about 8:40/mile. Remember: this is me, in a headwind for 7 miles, on a scheduled "easy" day.

FJ: Bro, you're totally gonna hit that PR in Green Bay.
Me: You think?
FJ: Um, yeah. We just ran that 10 waaayyy faster than last time. You're gonna nail it.
Me: Huh.

Its at this point in time that I realize I don't have a hotel booked yet. Oops. This is also the point in time where I begin to doubt myself, my training (Maybe I should have taken FJ up on that 18-miler offer...), and generally feel like crap. This time, my car also broke down, adding another layer of crappiness. So, I'm out to lunch with a friend of mine- Mrs. Hansen- on Good Friday,and we're talking about the upcoming race. She and her hubby are both running the half, and I ask where they're staying. Half laughing, I ask if we can have a slumber party that weekend. She blinks, blinks again, and says "Well, I don't see why not. I'll ask Mr. Hansen and let you know." Frrr rllll? Text a few hours later: "Mr. Hansen says the slumber party is a go." Sweet!

Spirits boosted, I finish the training, and drive to Green Bay Saturday morning, tailgating the Hansens, and praying that the other Hansons have got my back with this training, even if I only make it through 16 miles.

Pre-race dinner is a ton of sushi at Nakashima Japan. The Hansens and I order about nine of everything, and have so much fun. I've never felt so relaxed the eve before a race, never before forgot about what it was I was going to wake up and do the next morning, never before toasted tomorrow with such gusto and joy. Anyways, check it out:

I don't think I need to say that we had leftovers for post-race celebrating. Early to bed, and early to rise. Race day will be here before you know it...

Morning. One cup of coffee with about 7 or 8 of those creamer cups, a banana, and a packet of instant oatmeal mixed with yogurt. Big ol' Gatorade brought along for the ride to Lambeau Field . A few pre-race photos on the iPhone, gear check, iPod set to go, in the crowded starting corrals, speeches by people I don't know, the Star Spangled Banner, pump up music blaring, a little House of Pain , and the gun goes off.

I situate myself with the 4:15 pace group, and decide to stick with one of the three pacers no matter what. I feel great, I'm not checking my watch, and the pace feels incredibly easy. This is good. The Hansons know what they're doing. So far, so good.

It stays this way for awhile. I start chatting up the male pacer (can't remember his name), and only around mile 12 do I notice that the rest of the pace group is nowhere to be found. Pacer Dude says: "Well, we'll just have some extra time to bank for when we hit the river. The wind is gonna be nasty." Now, I knew that the day was going to be windy. I watch The Weather Channel, I know these things that you should do before a race. 25-30 mph wind with gusts of 50 mph+, is what the forecast said. And up until this point, the wind was gusty, for sure, but nothing worse than I'd had on training runs along Little Bay de Noc. And then I realized what he was talking about. From mile 14-22-ish, we'd be running along the Fox River. With a head wind the entire way. Again, I blame Pam Reed, and just put my chin down and run. What can I do at this point, anyway?

My splits at this time are pretty steady: 9:18 through mile 5, 9:25 at mile 10, 9:20 at the half, 9:26 at mile 15. And then it gets windy. Relentlessly windy. And please, let me remind you that wind is indeed, Mother Nature's most annoying element.

I tried really really really hard to not be negative. Mantras played over and over in my head to a soundtrack of carefully chosen songs: You can do this. One foot in front of the other. Be strong. Catch (fill in with description of random runner ahead of me).

I'll admit to some swearing. I'll be the first to admit to dropping a few (dozen) f-bombs, plus a few exasperated "Really?!"-s thrown in for good measure. Pace at mile 20 is 9:39, and I am tired.

By the time I hit mile 23, I am mentally broken. My legs feel fine, and so I try to focus on that aspect during the remaining miles rather than how exhausted I am from talking myself though almost 8 miles of strong winds. (side note: the Tucson Marathon was exactly the same: a head wind from miles 14-24, with no let up. Stupid Pam Reed.)

I see Fast Jessica wrapped in mylar right around the Jimmy Buffet water stop, right before you get back to Lambeau Field. She is smiling and cheering me on, and I wave and give the "thumbs up" sign. I get to Lambeau, enter the tunnel and am just about to hit the inside track when I pause for just a minute. A guy behind me says: "You can't stop now. I've been chasing you for the last four miles. You're almost done." Now, for a newly single gal to hear that a guy has been chasing her? For four miles? Nice. Just the boost I needed to pick up the pace, run the track, exit the tunnel, and see the Hansens hoisting beers up high, screaming my name. I cross the finish line in 4:20:xx.

FJ meets me at the exit, and we high five and hug.

FJ: How do you feel? You looked great coming in, really strong.

Me: My legs feel great. I'm mentally beat, though. That wind was nasty.

FJ: It's all Pam Reed's fault.

Me: Of course.

FJ: So you're happy with your time?

Me: Yeah, I'll take it.

FJ: Good. Because there's talk that the course was long.

Me: Huh.

I meet up with my slumber party Hansens, we toast the other Hansons for a good race plan, and head back to the hotel. We amble to the pool area, and settle in to the hot tub fully clothed. I know!!! Its gross, but really, I never shower after training runs, either, and only one lady was in the hot tub, and she too, was fully clothed. So there.

The next day, its announced that the course was indeed long, and that finish times would be adjusted. My new PR? 4:19:24. I'll take it.

As I've thought back to that weekend, I've decided that a few things are for sure. 1) The Hansons training plan feels good for me. There's a good balance of structure and leeway. And only 16 mile long runs. 2) Good friends like the Hansens can help you relax and remember why you run in the first place- because its fun. 3) A good training partner is worth their weight in gold. No matter that Fast Jessica is faster than I am, the concern and interest she took in my race was appreciated. 4) I can totally beat that time. If I can only get Pam Reed the heck away from me...

Happy running, friends. Let's hope your next finish line photo is as joyful as mine.

Truths for Mature Humans

2011-05-27T10:30:00.006-04:00

Good morning! Although this is funny, and I would love to take credit for it, I cannot. My friend, known in my posts as The Devil or even The Clown Wrangler sent this link and I just had to share:

Truths for Mature Humans

And that race report from Green Bay? It's coming, I swear.

Rituals

2011-05-04T09:52:00.006-04:00

So. Runners are curious creatures. We are particular, and for those of us for whom marathon running/racing is the preferred poison, our craziness is heightened during a period before the race known as "tapering." This is the critical one-to-two week period before the race where runners are encouraged to rest up for the big day. This is incredibly difficult to do.

For me, anyway. Some people love the taper. I would love the taper more if I didn't have to sit still so much, or gain an extra five pounds from being sedentary. Or if I weren't a runner at all.

Anyhoo, there are certain rituals I follow during the taper: increased carbohydrate intake, extra bicep curls and tricep maneuvers (so my arms look hot in my race photos), laying out different top/tank/skirt/shorts/capri combinations for race day attire (because 90% of feeling good on race day comes with the right wardrobe)...and then there are the medals.

Huh? Well, at the end of every marathon, this is what happens to a runner:
1) The last .2 miles are spent talking yourself into really finishing, and finishing strong, i.e. sprinting to the finish line. Or as close as you can muster a sprint-type movement.
2) In one smooth action, you smile, stop your watch, raise your arms victory-style, let out a sigh of relief, and cry as you cross the finish line. The raising of the arms & attempted smiles are important as your photo is being taken. Yay! You're done!
3) Cry more, but make it look like its exhaustion, not emotions taking over your brain. Sunglasses help.
4) Hear volunteers tell you "Congratulations!" and "Good job!" and "You did it!" while they simultaneously drape a mylar blanket over your shoulders and drape the finisher's medal over your head.
5) Find beer.

The medal is what counts here, as it is the actual proof of the race being run. Some people might think "Well, where did all of those t-shirts come from?" A t-shirt does not guarantee that a person has run the race advertised on said shirt. My "was-band" used to wear some of my race shirts, and as he stood outside of buildings- smoking a cigarette- complete strangers would ask him about the races. True story. Some races don't hand out the t-shirts even until the finish line ( Grandma's Marathon , I'm lookin' at you).

But the medal.

Some are pretty. Some are hefty. They are all, however, a memento of the day, the race itself, the training leading up to the day, the runner's life on that date. They are symbols of a biography, written in steps and sweat rather than words. I love my medals.

And so, during the taper, when I'm not running (but thinking about running all the time) I take out my medals and arrange them in chronological order, in the straightest line possible, edges just touching, ribbons folded just so. I count them, brush dust off of them with my shirt tail. Half-marathon medals are also there, in order, but inserted just above the full medals. Some days, I can't believe I've really run all those races; other days, I can't believe I haven't done more. Every day I'm glad that I'm able to run.

This weekend, I took out my medals. They've been living in a box since the Fall 50 , and were at my old house. I took them out, one by one, marveling once again at the sense of accomplishment I feel just holding them. I dusted them off, straightened the ribbons, and first grouped them by race. There are multiple years from the same race ( Chicago , Grandma's , Green Bay ), and I love tracing the evolution of the race with the logo and ribbon colors. This year, though, I noticed something was wrong. I was missing a medal.

The Detroit Free Press Marathon medal. 2004. I ran with my friend, Jennifer, her first (and to date, only) marathon. My father-in-law ran with my sister, Katie. He had flown in from Vietnam the day before after being gone for a month. Katie had a bird shit on her head while we exchanged high fives passing on & off Belle Isle. We got dizzy running through the Detroit-to-Windsor tunnel. I rode back to the Upper Peninsula smushed in the back of my in-laws' Jeep Wrangler, hugging a month's worth of backpacking gear that still smelled like Vietnam (or what I guessed Vietnam had to smell like). My legs ached for the last three hours of that drive.

And so, I've enlisted the help of Daughter #1 to find the medal. I know its in the old house somewhere. I hope she's able to find it before my race next weekend. While I'm not especially superstitious, I've always laid out the medals before a race, and I've always finished the races I've entered. Coincidence? Maybe. I'm not willing to mess with a ritual that has served me thus far; and I'm not sure that I'm willing to write a chapter in my autobiography of running about "That One Time I Didn't See ALL of My Medals, and The Universe Gave Me The Shaft on Race Day."

There's comfort in consistency, no? And while I'm all about embracing changes, this is one I don't think I can add to my plate just yet. Next week is my spring marathon- Green Bay - and so my next blog entry will be a recap of that day. Picture of medal to follow. Happy running, friends.

And Now It Is Time For...

2011-04-23T17:35:00.004-04:00

Have you ever noticed how many things in life are dictated or influenced or even spoiled by the element of time? We measure our days in increments named hour, minute, second rather than by how they make us feel, or what transpired to make it noteworthy in the first place.

My life these days is all about time, I'm afraid. Waiting periods, court deadlines, more waiting. And the running part of my life? Pace runs, speed work, long runs, just finding time to run. Graduate school, time for homework, time for research, time for class. And then there's work, as in "the job I get paid to do."

From time to time I get a case of the "What's the point?!"- itis. Like...these last few weeks. I'm not usually such a complainer, I swear I'm not. But there comes a time when a girl can't deal with all of the shit thrown at her. For instance:

1) Week-long business trip to Atlanta with seven- seven!- staff members where not only can I not get tickets to the Braves game, but my credit card gets nabbed, and we miss our connecting flight out of Minneapolis, causing an overnight delay.

2) Frantic planning of end-of-school year activities involving too much shopping (I cannot believe I just said that, but it was not *that* kind of shopping), and not enough support from other staff. I mean, after almost ten years of holding an event, dontcha think they'd be able to run it in their collective dreams? Yes, you would think so.

3) Realizing that my spring marathon is a mere three weeks away, and I have not yet secured a hotel room, much less made alternate plans for my daughter.

4) Waking up to 19 degrees in mid-April, starting my car, putting it into gear, and having the front end/wheel bearings drop onto the driveway when I am supposed to be taking my daughter to school.

You see? And that was just the span of one week.

And now, I look back on those events and have a different perspective. My bank has wonderful customer service. I only had to field one complaint during that big event, and it ran without a single hitch. Lunch on Good Friday resulted in catching up with a wonderful friend, who just so happened to have a hotel suite with an available pull out sofa sleeper marathon weekend.

And the car? Well, the car was never my choice, and I've always hated it. It was a piece of shit from the get-go, and I'm still a teensy bit bitter that it stuck around as long as it did. So, while there's no happy ending for that, the rest just kinda worked itself out.

Which brings me back to time.

With my race training and foray back to grad school, free time is as valuable as gold these days. I barely have time to shower, let alone find time for a quality run. My friendships have moved to the margins of my life, being reduced to rushed and fragmented text messages rather than conversations. This weekend- Easter weekend, a four day weekend- was my first real break from a schedule in I can't remember how long. My time has been micromanaged, and I have no one to blame but myself.

So, what have I learned from this? I have learned that I need to schedule my free time to be truly free from everything. I have learned that I cannot control fate. I have learned that if you take all of the bits and pieces, you can still see the "I love you and miss you" in the back-and-forth with your friends. I have learned that my running is an integral part of my life, and to ignore the twitching in my legs is to ignore a large part of what makes me, me.

As much as I have thought about how time is central to so much in our daily lives, I have come to appreciate the passage of time, too; I can do what I always admonish others to do: reflect, learn something from it, and move on. Evolve.

Transition to Spring

2011-04-12T08:29:00.008-04:00

Once again, I've plundered my "From the Editor" pieces from my running club's newsletter, with this piece from 2009. Enjoy.

How do you know when something is over? I don't mean something like an event or a movie or a song; I mean something more abstract, like an era, a movement, a feeling? A season?

Don't tell me you haven't pondered this before. Everybody , at some point in time, has wondered "When will this be over?!" For us runners, we often find comfort in the concrete routines of our sport: the familiar local races year after year, the same runners crossing paths through the park or along the trail, the constant cycle of training/tapering/racing/resting for the marathoners in our ranks, and the smiling faces in the crowd, wishing us luck. Those things we can rely on, can't we? Take them one-by-one and mull over each awhile.

Local races: they seem to organize themselves, don't they? And yet anyone who has helped plan, organize, and direct a race knows this is most certainly not the case. Do we mourn the dedication of the race staff and volunteers when we search for a registration form, only to find a notice that the race is no longer being held?

What about the people we see along our regular routes? Or the same people we see on the treadmills next to us at the local YMCA? Do we notice when they don't appear around the playground at mile three, or do we only catch their absence once the run is complete? When do we realize and accept that they may have *gulp* stopped running?

I don't think I need to expound on the craziness that is the marathoner's life, but that constant motion is part of the collective memory we have in reference to certain friends, right? I mean, we all have a friend or acquaintance who qualifies for and then runs the Boston Marathon each year. What if...they stopped?

And those faces in the crowd! If you're lucky, you'll be running long enough to see certain shifts in the position of the crowd. The speedy middle-aged guy in front of you three years ago is now more comfortable pacing his buddy, and may even drop out of the race once he's confident in his charge's performance. Eventually he'll make his way towards the middle and then the back of the pack. Before you know it, he'll be relegated to collecting registration forms and fees and handing out race t-shirts.

Spring is a transitional season for runners: we move from bundled up freaks wearing face masks and shed our layers of gear to reveal the (hopefully) lithe runner's body underneath. Those bodies hidden in the dormancy of winter are just aching to go, to move, to be seen.

And then.

We are obligated to ponder the transitions around us, we are forced into the uncomfortableness of change. At what point does a runner become a non-runner? When does a passion become a chore? When does the relationship get so comfortable that it is taken for granted? When does the season really change? Who can pin-point that? Not I, said the cat. And yet, I'm not sure I'd want to know, lest I apply my runner's sensibilities to resurrecting something that just may be better off left to fade away.

Don't forget to give thanks for those daily markers in your life. Quick now, before they fade away.

Questions Needing Answers

2011-04-01T08:21:00.008-04:00

1. Can I count all of the running around at work this week as cross training? Tuesday was an afternoon of bowling followed by dinner for 100+ people and Minute to Win It games. Watching people try to get an Oreo cookie from their forehead into their mouth and not being able to use their hands will always be entertaining.

2. Does the exhilaration of completing a really tough physical challenge ever get old? Man, I hope not. Wednesday was the day my department took kids to Northern Michigan University to climb the rock wall. While the kids shimmied like monkeys up the walls, I ran progressive 800's on one of the treadmills overlooking the wall area: 9:00, 8:48, 8:34, 8:20, 8:13, 7:53. THEN I went and conquered 1) my fear of heights, and 2) that rock wall. After that, I tried my hand at racquetball. Um...I *might* have some aggression issues; boy, it sure is fun to smack a small rubber ball around an enclosed room!

3. How much pride can you have in a group of teenagers before you explode? Thursday was my version of The Amazing Race . We had nine teams of two racing around the rez on bikes and then on foot completing challenges for the body & mind. Some of the kids are less than fit; some are obese. Everyone finished all of the challenges with smiles and high fives. No one even trash talked other teams- it was all about encouraging others and teamwork (ca$h prize$ help, too). It makes 12+ hour days worthwhile.

4. How horrible of an eater do you have to be- and for how long- before your insides fall out? Yesterday was quite possibly the worst food day I've had in awhile. I have posted before about my food/pickiness issues (go here and here for a primer), but yesterday my intake was just awful. I posted earlier about it on Facebook, but I will post my food diary here as well:

7 am Coffee with sugar free hazelnut creamer

11 am Banana

12 noon-5 pm Approximately 40 pieces of Laffy Taffy, or however many constitutes one third of a 5 pound bag.

10:30 pm One can (yes, the entire can) of Disney Princess shaped Spaghettios

5. When will my Spring Break with events & activities planned by and paid for by someone else start?

That last one is the only non-rhetorical question, and is geared towards all of my fabulously independently wealthy friends. Catch me on the celly, awwwriiite?

Please Buy This for Me

2011-03-26T10:48:00.005-04:00

Size small, in the pewter. Please and thank you.

Now, why on Earth would I ask everyone in blogger-dom to buy me this maxi sundress from Garnet Hill ? Blame it on a dream I had last night.

I KNOW! Enough with the dreams, already!

But this dream was...more real. Does that make sense? Often times my dreams are of everyday tasks and activities, but this one was less everyday and more real. I'll ask again: does that make sense?

So, I'm wearing this dress, and I'm dancing with someone (can't tell who at this point). Slow dancing to a band. We're at a cantina-ish place, with the rough-hewn post & beam type patio space, lanterns hanging everywhere with warm light. It must be somewhere warm (definitely not in the Upper Peninsula!), because everyone else is dressed beachy. Okay, you know the scene in the movie version of Eat Pray Love where Liz first meets whatshisname at a party after doing all those shots of tequila? It was like that, minus the tequila. Back to the dream: I'm dancing, but all I see is the dress, all fabric and floating and swirling and twisting with the movements of my body, glimpses of my arms & shoulders. The music from the band is coming to an end, and I feel myself being put into a dip- bodies close, one leg hiked up, the works. I look up and see my partner for the first time in this dream: its Shall Remain Nameless from this post.

WTF?! Shall Remain Nameless hasn't made an appearance in my dreams since that first dream, and honestly, I've been too busy with oh, life to focus on anyone or anything other than what's in front of me at the moment (right now? Coffee.). But let me tell you this: it was in-tense. Just like that first dream. It felt like it was something that should really happen, you know? An omen, perhaps.

Whatever. All I know is that I now must have that dress.

Things are Looking Up

2011-03-25T08:10:00.006-04:00

Its funny how seemingly small things or events can help shift your outlook. I know I've kinda been a whiner lately, but I've tried very hard to remain optimistic. Little surprises help, and so do good, solid workouts (well, for me, anyway).

Like last weekend: I had a very busy morning on Sunday, but then met Tha Doctah and another friend, Pasquatch (don't ask) at our local arts center to help hang a new gallery show. It was so lovely to go back to my artist's roots for an hour or so, to debate why one painting should go here and not over there. And then a cup of coffee and catch up time? Nice. I thought for sure my day would end there, that I'd pick Daughter #2 up from her dad's house, and my weekend would be gone.

But NO!

I had originally planned to do a nice evening run with my friend, Fast Jessica. Then I had to cancel because I thought I was doing taxes. Then the taxes thing got moved, and I was able to run after all. So confusing!

Side note: Fast Jessica is named such because she is a much faster runner than I am. She has always been one of those runners at local races that people whisper about: Is Jessica here today? I wonder what her time will be. Or one July 4th Firecracker run, courtesy of my father-in-law: I just got chicked. By a pregnant lady pushing a jogging stroller. She is a force to be reckoned with.

Anyway, we got together for our run, and planned on an easy 7-miler out & back, uphills on the way out, downhill on the way back. Awwwww, yeah! The plan was to go out easy, then let the road speed us up after the turn around. Well, something that usually happens when Jess & I run is that we talk. I KNOW! As we talk, we sometimes- okay, all the time- go faster than expected. This is significant because, like I mentioned earlier, she is Fast Jessica, and I am me.

I've noticed something happening to me, though, since I've been running more with FJ: I've gotten faster, and I've been happier about running. The benefits of a running partner, right? Well, its something that I was lacking after my first running partner- my father-in-law- died during a local half-marathon. I have missed the camaraderie of a regular running partner, of regular routes and workouts, and of the push you receive from said partner. I'm so thankful for FJ.

Back to the run: we started out fast, and got faster. Downhill on the turnaround, remember? What was supposed to be a chill run turned in to an exercise in running strong whilst tired. We celebrated the good run- and FJ's birthday (25! Again!)- with pizzas and grocery store cake courtesy of Uncle Winga. An evening of great conversation and friendship was had, and my weekend was better than expected.

But that's not all. After Daughter #2 was home with me, we sat in my living room: me, nodding in and out of sleep on the big chair with HGTV on the television, and D2 tapping away on the computer. What happened next is what made the weekend move from pretty good to fucking awesome: D2 came over to me and kissed me goodnight. My 15-year-old. It was, to a mother who has never felt entirely maternal, heavenly.

She has continued to do this every night since. It makes me happier than you could ever know.

Good things usually come in threes, right? Mental checklist: awesome run/evening with running friends? Check! Kiss goodnight from formerly surly teenage daughter? Check! Coming home from work last night to find my new running shoes ? Check!

See? Things are looking up. If you focus on the positive, I feel that will reflect back on you, and help change the color of your days from blue to sunshine yellow. Karma, friends. Give thanks for the good, and pay it forward.

Say Hello To...

2011-03-22T17:53:00.004-04:00

...my friend, Troy. Now, let me preface everything else I'm about to write with the following: I've never actually met Troy.

I KNOW!

Its one of those virtual friendship things: a friend of a friend from another online community, and now a friend on Facebook, Troy would so definitely be my friend for real if he lived closer. Like, I think we'd have met because our circle of friends would be...well, the same circle.

Troy is a runner, a dry stone waller, a husband, father, fellow Midwesterner (although he now lives in Vermont), and funny fella. He can also grow one helluva moustache if he wants to.

Anyway, I'm always happy to help another blogger gain followers. So go visit Troy's blog. Tell him I sent you over. I know he'll be thrilled to make room for you in his circle.

In Like a Lion...

2011-03-19T20:38:00.012-04:00

You know, I've really been struggling these past few weeks, months to come to terms with well, everything, and when I really sat and thought about my emotions and all the happenings of my day-to-day, I realized that it might not be me; it might be the weather.

Many people suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, and while I don't think I'm immune- I thrive on sunny days, despise the cold and gloom and weight of winter days- I certainly don't think I'm a candidate for therapeutic relief in the form of medication. No, I can usually talk myself out of a slump. Loft House cookies help.

Looking back further than recent months, I can say with certainty that this feeling I've had (and even posted about it ) comes with this anonymous in-between season we have here in the Midwest. Winter is still holding on via last-gasp snowstorms and early morning frost on car windows, and yet Spring is still hibernating, teasing with fantastically bright sunshine on 19 degree days. Aren't we like Spring, then? All we really want to do is stay snuggled in our beds a little longer. But my impatience gets the best of me, and I can be embarrassingly unbearable. So short is my fuse that I feel like I should have a rotating wardrobe of t-shirts with things like "Just DON'T" and "What the fuck is your point?" Bedazzled on them.

Anyway, I thought about how to best describe my emotional state this time of year (besides "laaaazzzzyyyy" and "potty mouthed"): wistful, meditative, pensive, contemplative, eager. Some of these connote sadness, and I guess I'm never sure what exactly I'm sad about; the words just seem to fit. And when I feel this way, I listen to certain types of music. "The Soundtrack of My Life," I like to call it, because I see the days of my life unfolding like a scene from a movie, and these are the songs I imagine playing in the theater should anyone else be privy to the show. In no particular order:

1. "Long Ride Home" by Patty Griffin (This is quite possibly the saddest song I know. I can't not cry when I hear it.)

2. "Everybody Knows" by Ryan Adams and The Cardinals (Another unsung American singer/songwriter. Listen to the CD "Easy Tiger.")

3. "Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens (This one always brings me back to its eponymous source, with memories of riding the El, marveling at the city.)

4. "One of These Things First" by Nick Drake ("A whole long lifetime could've been the end...")

5. "The Only Living Boy in New York" by Simon & Garfunkel (This reminds me of simpler days, and always ALWAYS of my dad. *love*)

6. "Say Hello Wave Goodbye" by David Gray (This version is hauntingly beautiful; yes, I know it was originally a New Wave pop B-side for the British band Soft Cell.)

7. "The Time of Times" by Badly Drawn Boy (I firmly believe that every movie soundtrack would be better with a song from Badly Drawn Boy.)

8. "Are You Alright?" by Lucinda Williams (It was difficult to pick just one song from Lucinda, but this one fits the list's vibe.)

9. "This Too Shall Pass" by OK Go (The link will take you to a super awesome marching band version of the song. For another version with a cool Rube Goldberg machine, go here.)

10. "Sons & Daughters" by The Decemberists (A bit melancholy, yet hopeful in the end: "Hear all the bombs fade away.")

And that's how I'll leave you today: hopeful. Because we all know the second half of this post's title...

I Feel A Whole Lot Better...

2011-03-17T08:12:00.015-04:00

Dang, I love that song!

And better yet, I do feel a whole lot better since my last post. So much has my outlook improved that I've decided to write a top 10 list about it. So, without further ado, here is my list of things I've realized I like best about my new life:

1. Grocery shopping is a breeze. I've never minded household chores, and when my kids were younger, the grocery store offered a respite from Being Mommy. But now I feel even less encumbered: my kids are old enough (and I like them enough) that I don't need to escape from Being Mommy. Plus, the grocery cart no longer contains items like horseradish, pickles, and copious amounts of meat.

2. My cute little dollhouse is clean, all the time. I have a postcard that hangs in a clear, acrylic photo frame that I brought with me to my new house:

Its a dream that I seriously had about, oh...everyDAY in my old house. That old house (literally, an old house) was never clean, even when I spent all day cleaning to the point of making my hands raw from bleach and scouring pads. No longer a dream, friends.

3. Everything smells good. Is that funny? Like strange funny, not haha funny? Ever since Daughter #2 was born, my sense of smell can be likened to a super power. Did you have onions for lunch? Yesterday? I just knew it. Absent of men and pets and meat and dirt and cigarettes and alcohol (and, cigarettes mixed with alcohol- think of the ickiest dive bar ever. That is how my old house could smell sometimes.), houses are lovely things. I find that I don't need to burn fancy candles or buy Febreeze in institutional strength gallon-size jugs anymore.

4. Pets are a thing of the past. Growing up, my parents had children, not pets (although, we could have a lively discussion on whether or not the children were substitutes for pets? Another time, perhaps). We didn't have dogs or cats or fish or birds, save for the early years of less than five kids. My parents may have liked the chaos of a large family, but adding an animal to the mix was just taking things too far. I've never been fond of animals, either. I've never felt the need to nurture something that won't eventually grow up and move away. Plus, I don't enjoy cleaning up shit. (Side note: I've always been fascinated by the cats who use the toilet- and flush it!-rather than a litter box.)

5. I don't have to be cheap when it comes to coffee. I used to wander the grocery aisles, giving those small bags of Starbucks coffee a sideways glance as I reached for the monster bag of Eight O'Clock coffee I would take home. Who actually buys that? What kind of person spends so much on coffee beans? A rich person. Someone whose closest Starbucks is on the next corner, not 70 miles away, I'll bet. Yes, it was a bit of jealousy. But now that I'm only buying coffee for one, you bet your bippy I buy the good stuff, and its worth every penny. Plus, that little bag lasts me almost two weeks! And, there's the added bonus of never being faced with an empty pot when I finally get around to pouring my second cup; the pot is always just as full as when I poured the first cup.

6. "There is a place for everything, and everything should be in it's place." If I've heard this once during my lifetime, I've heard it a kajillion times. It was my mother's mantra on Saturday mornings as her small army of children would clean the house top to bottom before either receiving weekly allowances or being allowed to go anywhere or do anything. I, too, have adopted this mantra. The difference now is that I say it with an assured amount of smugness, because I know that no one has misplaced anything. Also along the mantra-from-my-mother lines, I no longer have to say "I guess if I want something done right, I have to do it myself." Oh, yes. That phrase came out of my mouth. Often. Now the only person I can rightfully say that to is myself.

7. I can smell good or bad. Like, my personal scent, not the aforementioned sense of smell. Sometimes, as my running friends will tell you, I have been known to run for 13 miles or more, drink beergaritas, and then head to the grocery store. Unshowered and still in my running clothes. Gross, I know; but taking a shower is something I'll do when I'm ready to relax, thankyouverymuch. And how can I relax when there's so much to do? I've been known to spritz on body spray before venturing out on errands, though, so I'm not a complete boor. My daily dressing routine involves actual perfume, though, and the scents I'm drawn to were not always appreciated in my former life. I have been hoarding a small, travel-size atomizer of one of my favorite scents- "Earth" by Gap - for years. I love it. It is no longer made, and the last time a 4 oz. bottle came up on eBay , it went for almost $300. In my former life, *someone* would complain about the scent, "It smells like soap." Um...and?! I certainly don't want to smell like baked goods or my grandmother. I no longer worry about pleasing someone else with my perfume choices. Or my hair, makeup, shoes, or clothing choices, for that matter. I look and smell pretty for me. And so my friends aren't embarrassed when we go out in public.

8. And speaking of exercise...I no longer endure eye-rolling and snarky comments muttered through disgusted sighs as I mention that I'm going for a run. Or going to work out. Or going for a bike ride. Or doing something, anything that could be considered exercise. I love that that is no longer a part of my life. I can't believe I allowed someone to make me feel guilty for indulging in activities that: one, keep me healthy; two, keep me trim; and three, keep me from going crazy.

9. I get the whole bed to myself. Let me explain: I enjoy cuddle time, sure, and I also like that sometimes cuddle time turns into *bow chicka wah wah*. But when it comes to sleeping, I would appreciate it if you could stay the fuck away from me. Its nothing personal. As with many things in our adult lives, we can trace origins back to our childhoods. This quirk is no exception. With nine children and two adults in one house, economy was key to sleeping quarters. And so, I shared a full-sized bed with a sibling until I entered high school. Then I got to switch to a solo twin, and it was totally rad. As I moved around for college and found a mate, sleeping together was just the thing to do. Every minute I spend with you is the best minute ever. *GAAAAGGGG*. In addition to recoiling from anything to do with my childhood, some of my OCD tendencies have to do with bedtime: the bedsheets must be crisp, clean, and the bed made with hospital corners. The bed must be made every day. If you are in the bed before me, DO NOT "warm up" my side of the bed, as I will then be forced to dream about ways to bring great bodily harm upon you. Do not try to cuddle with me, or spoon; I am trying to sleep. And lastly, every day that I wake up in my brand new queen-sized bed, I can't help thinking of a song by Phish that goes: "When you're here, I sleep lengthwise, and when you're gone I sleep diagonal in my bed."

10. I love embracing the realization that the only problems I need to worry about are my own. Other people's problems are NOT. MY. PROBLEMS. Through the magic of Facebook , I reconnected with a friend/boyfriend from high school a few years ago. We were both married and met for drinks when I was in his city for a work-related conference. We were talking about books that had changed our lives, and I suggested to him The Pecking Order by Dalton Conley , and he in turn recommended Codependent No More by Melody Beattie . Can you say eye opener? He was, at the time, going through a divorce, and shortly thereafter got a new girlfriend and stopped using Facebook. I haven't been able to meet up with him again to thank him. When we do meet up again, you can be sure that I will thank him, though, profusely.

Too often we let negativity and unfortunate circumstances bring us down, and its so unhealthy. I guess the reasoning behind this post is to remember to focus on the good. And smile, friends- the weekend is here! Make it a great one.

Today I Feel...

2011-03-11T16:26:00.007-05:00

...discouraged. *sad face*

I know, I know, I know. I'm really trying to be optimistic about everything lately, but this one thing has got me down. And I feel a bit foolish for admitting to what constitutes vanity: I feel fat today.

*cringe*

There, I said it. You're probably asking yourself, "What? Did she gain 100 pounds lately? Did she stop running marathons and turn into a schlump?" No, on both counts. I have been training for my Spring marathon , and I've been eating only healthy foods with minor indulgences (like, the can of Coca Cola I downed in 2.4 seconds yesterday afternoon). But I still feel icky. Bloated. Too big to be considered fit. Unattractive. Regretting my haircut. Like a poser.

This will pass, I know. I know.

I will change into my running clothes after this is posted, run a good six miles or so, and the endorphins and attitude will sweep those thoughts away like dried up leaves on the sidewalk. The sun will shine. I will take a shower. I will reconsider purchasing diet pills and Slim-Fast at Walgreen's. I will feel confident and pretty, and remind myself that a very large percentage of people are so much worse off than I am: so dormant, so uninspired that similar feelings last all day for them. Every day, even.

But for right now, I am left thinking, "What am I doing wrong?!" I exercise. I eat healthily. I get plenty of sleep. The number on the scale goes nowhere. I don't think I'm overweight, per se, but if I could just drop ten pounds or so (or, better yet, the 10% of my body weight that They say will help stave off a buffet of diseases), I'd feel like I'm doing better. Like I have accomplished something. I can hear you muttering, "What?! Because running two or more marathons every year isn't enough under the accomplishments belt? Sheesh."

Let me have my insecurity with this one thing. Just for now, okay? Like I said, it'll pass. I'm just hoping that it'll take those last ten pounds with it.

The Power of Dreams

2011-03-07T08:01:00.006-05:00

I'm not talking about dreams in the larger sense, like "I have a dream...", rather I'm talking about the kind you have when you're asleep (or, half-asleep).

Last night I had a dream that I was watching television and holding hands (and then snuggling...and then cuddling, lengthwise...but no further!) with Kyle MacLachlan . Huh? I mean, yes, I was slightly infatuated with him in Twin Peaks and also thought he was dreamy in Blue Velvet , but he's not on the same level as say... Derek Jeter or my all-time favorite, Paul Newman . So, what gives?

Usually, I take matters of the brain and subconscious to my friend, Tha Doctah. Like about a year or more ago when I had a similar dream involving a different guy (couch, television, and more than snuggling in this dream...*bow chicka wah wah*). What does it mean?!

Well, after remembering what Tha Doctah told me, and after considerable research on the matter (ha!), I've found out that dreaming about celebrities- especially being somewhat intimate with them- indicates your drive to be successful. And that being intimate with someone in general can mean that you're lacking something in your life. So, if you're being all lovey-dovey with someone you don't normally get all lovey-dovey with it can mean that you see this dream partner as someone compatible, or as someone who has qualities you admire in a partner. Huh.

So, what's up with that?! Well, I've been thinking about my job and the future lately, and I've been thinking about what kinds of things I am looking for in a partner, so it all makes sense.

Let me be clear, though: I know that I won't be hooking up with Paul Newman or Derek Jeter or Kyle MacLachlan anytime soon. Or that other Shall-Remain-Nameless Guy. But its all food for thought, right? It gives pause to all of those things you thought were truths about yourself, those things that you always thought were no-brainers: the "givens" of your daily existence. Like, its a given that I prefer dessert to an appetizer. Or, its a given that I'd rather take a vacation someplace warm. For me, at least, I end up asking myself: What if...?

Remain curious, friends. And if I end up in your dreams, let me hear about it, okay?

Countdown

2011-02-27T14:54:00.009-05:00

Original copyrighted image can be found here.

11 weeks until my Spring marathon . I am excited, but subdued. This is the first marathon of the year for me, and I'll be trying yet again to better my finishing time. Last year- at the same race, no less- I managed a new PR by a good 8 minutes. This year, I'm hoping to shave off even more time.

So, right now I should be running about 10-12 miles. But its cold outside (16 degrees!), and most of yesterday's snowfall has yet to be cleared from sidewalks and streets. Plus, I've got to throw together my running club's newsletter.

More importantly, I need to prepare for tonight's Oscar ceremony. Oh, who am I kidding?! We all know that I really care about the clothes and not the movies. *giggle*

So many of life's events are preceded by a countdown, an artificial building up of importance of the event, a forced celebration built on the supposition that everyone around you simply must share your excitement, your anticipation, your anxiety, your joy. But by assuming these emotions to be shared, we often forget to focus on the intimacy of the moment, of the special bond created by the simple act of being a part of the event.

You know the phrase "You had to be there" ? Well, so many of our personal countdown moments are location-specific: you have to be there. Otherwise you're left trying to explain the unexplainable: what made something so special and unforgettable for you.

*sigh*

I guess the theme of this post is prudence. It is something that takes time to learn well, I think, and so I'll leave you with that challenge for today: exercise prudence.

The (Kinda) Young & The (Winter Blues-Induced) Restless

2011-02-25T11:11:00.008-05:00

Have you ever felt that your life is constantly on the precipice? And you can never tell if its a precipice of peril or great things? UGH.

I've had this feeling for awhile now, and its such a struggle to maintain optimism.
I feel stalled.
I feel like a wallflower.
I feel like I deserve some positive attention, some good conversation, some fun.

I feel like I should be paid attention to, rather than just assumed. (Does that make sense?)

I have tried to do the things that I've always done to ward off these feelings. I mean, I'm re-reading what I've just wrote and it sounds like I'm a whiny, self-centered prima donna.

But I'm not, I swear.

So, the question is: What do you do to get out of a slump? Where do you turn to when your go-to plan seems to have got up and went?

This is so much a part of my life, this quest for knowledge, for understanding, for clarity. And I know that so much of life simply cannot be about clarity, that it must be muddied and dirty and leave you feeling like you need a hot shower. I am that smart.

And yet...

...yet. I cannot help longing for the day when things will just "click," and I'll be the person I see in my magazine-layout fantasies: dressed in designer clothes, lounging on high-end furniture, sipping vodka gimlets and laughing with similarly clad friends as we recount our latest trip to Milan ("Oh, do you remember the look on Gianni's face when you told him you thought he was too effeminate?" "Ha! Yes! It was like a dagger to the poor dear's heart!" "Well, he should know that's what people are thinking when he wears a fringed scarf with that silk shirt opened to his waist." "I know. And its not like he has the physique of a rugby player!" "Tru dat.").

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to buy a lottery ticket (I'm still hopeful!), use up that jewelry store gift certificate (Sparkly is uplifting!), and pick up those killer jeans at the boutique (A good looking ass goes a long way in boosting a gal's spirits!).

Have a great weekend.

A Valentine's Ode to Sugar

2011-02-14T21:31:00.009-05:00

Oh, Sugar!
You, with your many colors, your many incarnations, your many flavors!

In nature's harvest you delight me:
Golden Delicious apple goodness, sweet nectarines, June strawberries,
and oh!, the taste of Hawaii in that prickly coat- pineapple gold!

And sugar, you chameleon!
Is the list of your myriad faces ever long? Do you taste as sweet with one name, and not the other?

Nay, you are always sweet, always comforting,
always ready with your cavity-inducing powers.

Sugar wafers, frosting, caramel corn, Karo syrup.
Dulce de leche, sweetened condensed milk, sugar cubes.
My elfin diet: candy, candy canes, candy corn, syrup!

Candy shop, penny candy, stocking stuffers, Valentine.
Willy Wonka, I wish you were real.

Cupcakes, cherry pie, Cinnabons, macaroons!
Chupacabra!
Lofthouse Cookies!
I rue the day we met, yet cherish you beyond measure.

Sugar.

Do I take you alone?
Is a Fluffer Nutter the same without your touch?
Did your chocolate get in my peanut butter?
Did my peanut butter get in your chocolate?- I can only hope.

You bring rot to my mouth, energy to my muscles
frenetic-ness to my brain, padding to my hips.
My belly.
My ass.

I will take you however I can get you.
I will keep you close.
I will sing your praises at every opportunity,
And you, Sugar,
Will be mine.

What the?!...

2011-02-04T08:33:00.011-05:00

Yep. New blog layout. New blog colors. New blog font, even. And probably, most importantly, new blog title and focus.

Whereas my blog before was a kind of journal for everyone to read, I've decided that at this juncture in my life, I need to FOCUS. And so, after some serious thought (like, a whole 7 minutes), I've settled on the title "Roots & Wings." I know I've written about this philosophy before and how I like it, about how it best describes how I want to raise my daughters (show them their roots, but give them the wings to explore on their own), about how it meshes well with my love/hate relationship with birds.

I've also changed the tag line from "think, hope, create" to "Life is one big learning experience- take what you can." I mean that you should learn something- at least one thing- from every experience you have, from every day you're here on the planet.

I recently moved to a new house (another post, another time), and my beautiful friend Magheen gave me a mezuzah. The short version of things is to tell you that when you enter or leave your home, the mezuzah is on a doorpost, and you are to give thanks for the blessings of the day. See? Learn something new, be thankful that your blessings include new knowledge. Share it with your nearest and dearest.

I really wanted to put "Learn something new. Everyday." But I think Martha has a trademark on that. Bummer.

Anyhoo, I'll post more about my new outlook soon. Right after that love letter to my dear friend, sugar.

My Strange Relationship with Food, Part II

2011-01-25T09:24:00.010-05:00

My last post was all about the foods I dislike. Indeed, I have banned them from the grocery list, and will not even consider partaking in dishes which contain said ingredients. I've never thought of myself as someone who holds a grudge, but by the same token, I guess I have a memory a mile long, so...

...onward to the foods I do like. Despite my desire for nutrition-in-pill-form, there are many things I love to eat. I am not usually a "gusher," I don't go on and on and on and on about things. Okay, maybe shoes. Or clothes. But food?! Not me.

Note: these are different from foods I crave, or foods that fall into another separate category entirely: SUGAR. My philosophy on that category can be best summed up thusly:

Now, without further ado, my list of foods that will always have a spot on the grocery list:

1) Apples- As I mentioned in my previous post, my mom would hide the apples she bought. I would eat them all to the point of...let's say...intestinal upset. Or so I'm told. But apples are so versatile! Depending on the variety, they can add sweetness or tartness to a dish. There's a depth they bring to savory dishes (like my favorite Moosewood Tart & Tangy Baked Beans), and their flavor in sweet baked goods...with cinnamon and nutmeg...YUM. Favorite varieties for straight-out eating? Gala or Golden Delicious.

2) Avocados- I was a late-comer to the avocado parade. My first experience with the green goddess was at a Christmas Eve celebration at my Grandma Gert's house. A cousin's girlfriend brought guacamole, and so I gave it a try. Her version, as I remember it, had sour cream and shredded cheddar in it. Eeewww! When I finally tried avocado properly- in real guacamole, in Mexico- it was instant love. How could I have missed this for so long? I love an avocado on a veggie burger, with TexMex dishes, with grilled fish, in salads. My friend My Jenny used to feed her babies avocado mashed with cream cheese for a snack. I'm told I make a mean guacamole, and maybe one day I'll share that recipe with you. Maybe.

3) Nectarines- Is there any better taste of Summer than a perfectly ripe, juicy nectarine? I think not. Save your breath in trying to tell me that its "just like a peach, but without the fuzzy skin." Puh-leeze! No comparison, in my book. That orange/amber hue of the flesh, the smooth skin, the sweet juices...the richness of the flavor reminds me of how completely satisfying the smell of a mock orange tree is. All-consuming. I'll stop now before this gets pornographic.

4) Greek yogurt- I've always been a fan of plain ol' yogurt. I like the neat new flavors they have nowadays: Key Lime, Coconut Cream, Banana, Dreamsicle. But the moment I tried Greek yogurt- what with its heavy, heavy silken texture and impossible creaminess- I bid a final adieu to those thinly flavored varieties. Even the Red Velvet Cake flavor.

5) Beans- I'm not talking green beans here, although I do like those. I'm talking what would be considered shell beans: kidney beans, black beans, Great Northern White beans, pinto beans. As a vegetarian (and a less than wealthy one, at that), they have proven to be an economical and tasty alternative protein form. The aforementioned baked beans were a turning point for me (Homemade baked beans? Instead of from a can with that blob of pork fat? Who knew they were so easy? Who knew they'd be so delish?!). I also use them in salads and that Thrifty Girl's stand-by: Empty Out The Fridge Casserole.

6) Onions- Flavor flavor flavor flavor flavor! A staple for so many reasons. I even prefer it to garlic. That is all.

7) Salmon- As I mentioned in my last post, I have only started to incorporate fish into my diet in the past few years. I grew up with those rectangular frozen fish sticks like everyone else. And being raised Catholic, I had to endure my share of Lenten Friday Night Fish Dishes. My father is a die hard fisherman, and would often bring home buckets and buckets of blue gill and crappies. I never enjoyed fish in my childhood. Gah-rosss-ah! But as an adult, I found that I missed the satiety meat brought to a meal, yet couldn't eat farm animals (my disgust of animals is another post altogether). So, fish it was. Salmon was what was in the freezer, and it was prepared simply for me: olive oil, salt, black pepper, fresh dill, lemon slices. Foil packet on the grill. Its still my favorite way to prepare it. I have also come to appreciate such fish as tilapia, grouper, and tuna. Mmmm...sushi.

8) Cheese pizza- While technically more of a dish rather than a food, it is still a staple in my grocery cart. Tomatoes in a form I can handle? Check. Cheese in a variety I can handle? Check. Warm bread? Check. Its a food ingredient hat trick, and when you take the frozen variety, add a bit more shredded cheese, and bake it until its bubbly and golden? That's comfort food, right there.

9) Lay's Original Potato Chips- "No one can eat just one." One of the reasons I run and exercise as much as I do. No ripples, no flavors. Just greasy, salty goodness.

10) Loft House Frosted Sugar Cookies- These are my nemesis. They are also my salvation. And coupled with #9, why I run as much as I do. They are what I have referred to in the past as the Chupacabra of Baked Goods. They are Evil. They are Heavenly. Chemically soft cookies with not a single browned edge topped with Keep-Your-Dentist-In-Business frosting. And sprinkles. I prefer the pink frosting to any other color, and come Christmas time, the Candy Cane ones have an honored spot on my counter top.

Needless to say, if I didn't practice self-restraint, I'd eat only Lay's and Loft House cookies, washed down with a room-temperature Coca-Cola Classic (Not diet Coke. Ever.), read fashion magazines, stalk people on facebook, and have an ass the size of Montana. Thank you, 8 lb. 6 oz. Baby Jesus for giving me a rational, practical brain.

Next post? A love letter to all things sugar.

My Strange Relationship with Food, Part I

2011-01-09T13:35:00.006-05:00

So, I'm a vegetarian. I have been meat-free since the birth of Daughter #1 (19 years ago). At the time, I was looking for a way to combat my genetic predisposition to the ravages of heart disease, diabetes, high blood pressure, etc. and cutting animal products from my diet seemed like a logical step to take. In the past maybe three years or so, I've let fish creep in to my diet, which not only makes getting enough protein easier, but makes weddings and buffet lines easier, too.

Anyway, my vegetarianism is totally not about animal rights (Au contraire, Mon Cherie! I loathe the animals!). I guess it really stemmed not only from the need to beat the genetic lottery off with a stick, coupled with the fact that I am a very picky eater.

As a child, my mother would have to hide apples from me or I'd eat the entire crop of them. My grade school lunches were always the same: PB&J on Wonder bread (because that's what my mom bought, silly!), an apple or some other piece of fruit (but NOT plums, tangerines, or peaches; oranges, bananas, grapes, and nectarines were fine), and some sort of Little Debbie snack (but NOT those icky Swiss Rolls or chocolate anything, except for the waxy chocolate-flavored coating on those delicious Nutty Bars). I still take PB&J sandwiches for lunch.

I never, ever, ever liked lunch meat. I think when I was younger I thought it was raw, and couldn't understand why people would eat it all the time. I did, however, enjoy Oscar Mayer bologna, fried with ketchup. Oh, Mama! It tasted somewhat like bacon (another weakness, although I was never very fond of say, pork chops or loin roasts).

I could go on and on with stories like these. See, I know I need food to live. And I know that a balanced diet is a good thing. I know that I need to pay even more attention to my diet than Regular Rosie because of the way I'd like my body to perform (that is, run marathons and such). But honestly, I'm waiting for the day when optimal nutrition comes in pill form. Some women are looking for the pill to help them lose weight; not me! What I'd really like to see is the evolution of food into gum form, like on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (the original one with Gene Wilder, not the icky one with Johnny Depp). Roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, and for dessert...blueberry pie! *chew chew chew*

And so, for the closing of Part I, I will leave you with a list of items I have stricken from the grocery list forever:

1) Tomatoes. The only way these are remotely tasty is as pizza sauce, lasagna sauce, or ketchup.

2) Pickled anything. Seriously? Letting food items stay submerged in a vinegar solution is just all kinds of wrong. I mean, I know its a way to preserve foods, but really? Ick.

3) Eggplant. While a very attractive shade (its always featured as the "purple" in that rainbow of fruits and veggies you're supposed to eat), its not tasty. Believe me, I've tried to like it- eggplant Parmesan, breaded and deep fried,etc.- but its so....blech!

4) Okra. This has one of the prettiest plants I've ever seen: lush green leaves with delicate yellow flowers. Too bad its cooked texture- um, kinda like Vaseline- is enough to make me gag.

5) Papaya. This is the one with the little black seeds that look like caviar, right? Yeah, my first experience with papaya was on a return flight from Mexico. It smelled and tasted like stinky feet. Maybe it was over ripe? Doesn't matter. I'm not eating it ever again.

6) Cheese. Ooooh, I'm gonna get it for that one, for sure. This is where my pickiness comes in to play. The following varieties are excluded from the category of "cheese," and are edible and consumable in mass quantities: mozzarella, brie, Colby jack, cheddar (only sometimes, though), Gorgonzola, Mascarpone, cream cheese, Parmesan, Romano. I must also add that these items must also be warm/melted, breaded & deep fried, or incorporated somehow into a dessert.

7) Eggs. Again, its not really a vegetarian thing, but I only like my eggs two ways: scrambled very very very very dry and cooked in butter ONLY (like, spots of brown on the eggs), or incorporated into a baked good.

8) Shellfish. This includes crabs, lobster, prawns, oysters, clams, mussels...all of it. Why? Because they all look like giant bugs. My only exception is the fake crab used in California Rolls at the sushi place.

9) Mushrooms. Several people have tried to get me to eat and enjoy mushrooms, trying to tempt me with varieties like portabella or shiitake, or even the elusive yet sought-after morel. Listen to me: they're texture is all wrong, and they smell and taste like dirt unless you add so much other stuff to them that you should've saved your money and omitted them from the recipe in the first place.

10) Mayonnaise. This also includes the Miracle Whip variety of mayonnaise-type spreads. Please note that the main ingredients in mayonnaise are mentioned previously on the list (see: #2 [vinegar] and #7).

For my next entry, I'll focus on what I do like to eat, followed by another installment where I hope to make a case for getting optimal nutrition from sugar-based foods, just like Buddy the Elf.

Have a great week!

New Year, New Goals

2011-01-06T22:12:00.006-05:00

Happy New Year! I was reading a friend's Facebook thread recently about New Year's resolutions; some people loved them, others hated them, and still others opted for an exercise in semantics: "goals" rather than "resolutions." Well, okay.

I like "goals," but I like statements, too: "I resolve to..." It seems gentler, more manageable. Some people even write their goals down on paper. I like this idea, too. And with the writing, I prefer the ease of resolutions rather than firm statements; it makes things feel like I have some latitude with how things are played out.

For instance, if I say I will update my blog every day, and then don't perform, well I just feel like a loser. But if I say I resolve to update my blog more frequently than I did in 2010, well that is a statement I can stick with.

And so, in addition to that resolution, here are a few more of my personal goals for 2011:

1) I resolve to write every day, either in my journal, on my blog, or on Facebook (Hey! It counts!).

2) I resolve to make time for physical activity every day. Whether it be running, weight lifting, or just a long walk-and-talk session with a girlfriend, its a priority.

3) I resolve to learn something new this year...like golf. I know, I know: it'll become an addiction, its costly, its dumb, its for retirees and dumb jocks...I don't care. I wanna learn how to play.

4) I resolve to be more consistent. In my work, in my personal life, in my eating and exercise habits, in my spending and saving habits- you name it, I'm looking to be more consistent.

5) I resolve to practice strength of character, kindness, graciousness, and generosity.

So, there they are, friends: the days of my life for 2011.

Key #1

2010-11-17T22:06:00.006-05:00

I have a friend, Ms. Macknacracken, and she makes jewelry. For years, she has been known for her key jewelry: earrings, pendants, pins, even figures made from old skeleton keys. The "key people," as they are known, are meant to celebrate the "key people" in one's life. Nice, right?

Key #1 refers to things or people that are key to my life, my sanity, my well being at this junction in my life.

Well, as my current journey has taught me, I have some key people of my own. I may not call some of them my "best" friends (a term I think is best left to elementary school aged children), but I do like to call them "My Peeps." In no particular order: My Jenny, Red, Tha Doctah, My Favorite Local Celebrity (who is no longer a local celebrity, but Nurse Betty-in-Training), Ms. Macknacracken, My Favorite Shiska, Bersday Granddaughter, Fast Jessica, The Devil (who also no longer fits her original moniker- maybe I can call her The Clown Wrangler?), and of course, all of my virtual facebook friends.

Many of them do not know about what's going on in my life right now, nor do they need to. All they need to know is that I am grateful for their friendship.

I came across a Hebrew word this morning that is so perfect: AHAVA.

It means "love" in Hebrew, but it also means "I give." So when you speak of "ahava," and express "ahava" for someone, you are really saying that you are giving to that person, they are being given the gift of love. Giving is a condition that creates and sustains love.

I'll repeat that: Giving is a condition that creates and sustains love.

So to all My Peeps: ahava. And thank you.

Is No News Good News?

2010-11-07T21:23:00.005-05:00

The old saying that "no news is good news," do you believe it? I mean, I guess in some cases this is true: test results from the doctor come to mind. But what about other things- isn't no news disconcerting? Like, if you're taking board exams for your law or medical degree, or for the SATs or MCATs, wouldn't you rather know ASAP if you've passed or not?

With the advent of instantaneous everything these days, does the notion of waiting for anything- news, money, movies, purchases- elicit more of an anxiety or excitement response for you? I tend toward the anxious, but not to the point of harassing phone calls and/or emails. I mean, I'm the kind of person who, just when she decides to make the phone call & leave a message of the "Where in the world is my ___?", the UPS guy or mailman shows up with it at my door.

*sigh*

I guess the No News rant here is more about feeling in limbo, the uncertainty I think we all feel from time to time. I just hate the prolonged version of that feeling. I don't appreciate the long way around, and would rather get on with it, whatever "it" may be.

I know its been a while since my last post, and I know this post is less than happy, but so much is up in the air right now, I'm struggling to maintain the everyday optimism I usually carry around. Check back in a week or so; I promise to change my tone! :o)

"Survey says?!"

2010-08-31T23:33:00.006-04:00

Yeah, so I borrowed that line from the late Richard Dawson. And I know I haven't posted anything in a long time. Like, a really, really long time. But, man, I've been Busy.

As this is the first of September and all, and my world thus far in life has always been about new classrooms and new pencils this time of year, I thought I'd post about the changes Summer 2010 hath brought.

Summer programming at work: We did a take-off on Top Chef and Iron Chef, with the kids cooking tons of food, and competing against each other in weekly food challenges. We ended the program with a special reward trip to Mackinac Island, complete with lunch at The Grand Hotel . Schwanky. Yes, I have the theme chosen for next summer already; no, I won't tell you what it is; your only hint is that it is both a book and a movie. Hmmm...

Daughter #1 has packed up and moved out to be a co-ed cutie on the campus of the University of Wisconsin-Madison , and yes, I was already told that I was NOT allowed to purchase and/or wear the shirt that says "Good Girl Gone Badger."

Daughter #2 is starting 9th grade this fall, and I think she's going to do just fine. There was a time when I felt she was in need of more attention and stronger guidance from me, due to her less-gregarious nature (read: she's her father's daughter), however, I have since learned that just because she's quiet around the house, doesn't mean she's necessarily quiet elsewhere. Also, she has a dirty mouth. I don't know WHERE that comes from!

Graduate school is moving along, with three classes down (well, almost three) and only 7 or 8 more to go. My current class is a bit off-putting, as the instructor is presenting each week to about two dozen online students (like me), PLUS a room full of live students on campus. The format is less than ideal, to say the least, and I for one feel like I'm getting the short end of the stick. I can't wait 'til evaluation time.

So on to the title of this post, right? I'm posting a question, and hoping to get some responses.

Q: When you have had a difficult decision to make in your life- no matter the decision, no matter your age or life situation, no matter any of those variables- what was the impetus for finally doing what you've been trying to make a decision about?

Did that make any sense? Hope so. Have a great week, friends.

The Definition of Insanity

2010-03-07T11:58:00.005-05:00

Albert Einstein is often quoted as saying that the definition of insanity is "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." As the kids like to say: Tru dat.

How many of us fall into a routine because of its comfort or familiarity without really examining what it does to us on a personal level? How often do we (un-) knowingly enter into something, and once we're committed to it, think to ourselves, "This seems like something I've done before..." It's like deja vu all over again (apologies to Yogi Berra). And yet, we can't seen to break away from the cycle. That comfort level, that friendliness, that warmth is all too enticing. Or we are too bothered by the possibility of change that we fall back on the familiar out of habit.

Remember, friends: habits come in both "good" and "bad" flavors.

So it goes with me lately. I've been especially introspective lately, and I've noticed that I have a routine, my active life has a routine, my work life has a routine, my relationships have a routine. These routines cycle with the seasons, cycle with paychecks, cycle with what's on sale at the grocery store. I've always done what I've always done, and its worked pretty well, even though I'm sure I've missed out on new experiences because of my set ways. But with this introspection comes Doubt. Yes, with a capital D.

What if I changed my training habits? Will I really be able to run a faster race? What if I change the way I respond to relationship issues? Do I risk damaging the relationship, or do I realize things that were always present in a new light? You don't know what you don't know, and you won't know until you know; it just happens itself upon you. Man, that sounds like a lot of psycho-babble (or Yogi-isms), but if you've ever been in the Doubting Place, you get what I mean.

So with Spring, I've been ready-ing myself for change. It fits the season. The timing feels right. I have a new-found enthusiasm for new-ness. I've read about things that interest me, not just what I need to read for school or book club. Its pretty liberating.

I'll leave you with another quote, and wish you a good week of discovery, however circular things seem:

"For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Growing Pains, or Every Sunrise Brings a New Day

2010-02-22T16:14:00.007-05:00

Image by Sean Depuydt. Go here: http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://gallery.photo.net/photo/1270956-lg.jpg&imgrefurl=http://photo.net/photodb/photo%3Fphoto_id%3D1270956%26size%3Dlg&usg=__wXRnweAHmISindZr3Ovl70n9vsM=&h=519&w=766&sz=35&hl=en&start=1&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=844ej_IRAdUf1M:&tbnh=96&tbnw=142&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dsunrise%2Bescanaba%2Bmichigan%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26rls%3Dcom.microsoft:en-US%26tbs%3Disch:1

Hello, Friends! I know its been awhile since my last post, but as the title of this post may suggest, things have been hectic around here. The biggest change has of course been my foray into graduate school. What a trip so far! I am absolutely in love with learning, and my online class has been nothing short of stimulating for my mind. In addition to forcing myself to be a more disciplined person in several areas of my life, I am forced to re-think my stance on some issues in education, or at the very least finesse them.

On the physical development front, I have been following (sorta closely) the P90X program. Tony Horton is the goofiest cat I've seen in an exercise video. The workouts are "extreme," as they say, and have kicked my butt on more than one occassion. I'm slowly but surely gaining strength,and it won't be much longer before I can do a pull-up. Maybe.

Other than that, I'm registered for two marathons this year (so far!): first up is the Green Bay Marathon on May 16th, and then there's the Chicago Marathon on October 10th. In between the two races are one high school graduation (Daughter #1), two weddings (sister Abbie and sister Katie), and a very exciting theme for my summer program at work! Yes, I have most of the summer planned out; no, I won't tell you what the theme is yet. I'll give you a hint, though: it is based on two television shows. Hmmm...

And so with that, dear readers, you can see that I have indeed been experiencing Growing Pains, and I must remind myself that no matter what comes my way each day, the sunrise will bring a new day, a new opportunity to get things right, another chance to learn something new and another way to challenge myself.

Guess What?!

2010-01-19T08:37:00.006-05:00

Okay, friends. I'm not the kind of person to brag, but I am very excited about my latest venture: graduate school! Yay, me! Today marks my first session as a student at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign , and even though everything is online, I've still got some "first day of class" butterflies.

When this is all said and done, I'll be super-duper smart. You want proof? Well, my degree will be a Masters of Education in Educational Policy Studies, with an emphasis on Diversity and Equity in Education. Phew! That's a mouthful!

That's my short post for the day as I'm really trying to squeeze in as much as possible these days. More on that later. Have a great week!

Its About Time!

2010-01-16T15:37:00.005-05:00

I know, I know, I know. Its been two long months since my last post. It was the frantic holiday season! I was swamped at work! I had issues at home! I had another marathon to run! I....I...I...am out of excuses. Whoops.

But lets get down to business, shall we? Season 7 of Project Runway started this week, and thank goodness this batch of designers has some personality! Last season was so blaaaahhhhhh, and I really didn't care for the way it ended. Icky. But now we have pizazz in the personality department and fantastically diverse design views. I think its going to be a good season!

And (of course) I called the winner and loser of Week 1 via text with Tha Doctah. *pat on back* I know I'm the only one keeping score, but I have to tell someone!

The dress that Emilio designed was so pretty- the details of the construction were amazing, and I'm really looking forward to what else he shows. Other designers that I liked this week? Well, let's just run down the whole gamut:

Jesse- No. Just, no.

Jay- the three flower puffs are bad. What woman wants those in those spots?

Christiane- there's a reason she went home. Bad fabric, poor construction, poor taste.

Ben- Meh. I like the "comic book" design okay, but think the fabric choice was wrong.

Anthony- Ick! Old lady fabric plus that extra hip? Bad bad bad.

Janeane Marie- I like this outfit and styling a lot. I think she did great for starting over completely in the 11th hour. The crybaby act, however needs to stop.

Jesus- a leather full-length evening gown with halter neck piece? Let's call it "S & M Lite."

Jonathan- Love this dress- the bodice, back, and belt are fantastic, but the skirt is a bit on the short side for me.

Amy- Strange poofs of fabric, plus that weird boob thing. No, thank you.

Maya- another big poofy thing attached in an unflattering place. WTF?

Mila- nothing exciting, just some nice separates with a bit of retro flair.

Pamela- hot pink mess of volume meets poor styling choices. And the back of the dress was all wrong.

Ping- I like this outfit quite a bit. Would I wear it? No, but its interesting and unlike anything else going on.

Seth Aaron- punk/rockabilly? Um, no. No.

Last notes: I'd really like the big ruffle in various shapes and sizes trend to go away. Four different designers had these fabric appendages, and none of them made them work. Oy.

In other news, I received notification that I was accepted to the graduate degree program I applied to. YAY! So, now I'm a grad student at the University of Illinois. Tuition donations can be sent to my PayPal account...

And lastly, my New Year's Resolutions (because I make lots of them every year, hoping that at least one will be accomplished): 1) learn to play golf (seriously); 2) run faster; 3) get rid of clutter; and 4) cook more for family & friends. I also promise to keep my blog updated more frequently than I have in the past few months, okay? Have a great week!

The Learning Curve

2009-11-18T20:11:00.009-05:00

So, its been one month since my last post, and I feel pretty badly about it. Its not that I didn't want to blog or update my three followers on what's up, but I just haven't been able to (wait for it...wait....) find the time (...and there it is!).

One thing I've always strived to do is keep this blog positive, and to make any messages I put out upbeat. Sure, I'll bet that if I looked through the archives I'd find crabby rants, but people, believe me: everything comes from a place of love. That is not sunshine that just got blown up your ass; its truth.

Anyway, so I've been doing some serious searching lately for myself, looking at self-help books, checking my state of mind out through various avenues, blah blah blah quest for new knowledge blah blah blah meaning of life blah blah blah. Is it my age? Is it some sign from the cosmos that comes with parenting? I dunno. I have just felt so unfulfilled lately, and am trying to analyze every last corner, nook, and cranny in my life. And I have learned some Very Important Things. Bear with me if you've heard these before, and if they are new to you, please, take them to heart and know (yet again) that this comes from a place of love (okay, okay, maybe with a bit of sarcasm, too).

Very Important Things

1. According to the picture accompanying this post, you should make lemonade when life hands you lemons. I will only modify this to say that if you have vodka on hand, add this to the lemonade (that's the sarcasm one).

2. "The Serenity Prayer" that my grandmother had on her dining room wall and that countless people have memorized is a good one. Although I'm not 100% sure about Christianity, I'm okay with referencing The Big Guy here: God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference.

3. People come in to your life for a reason or a season; embrace the inevitability of change.

4. MYOB. Honestly, just do it. Make your business your priority, and leave everyone else's stuff alone. Its not just a Very Important Thing, its good manners. If it happened to or is about Tammy or Donna, and Tammy or Donna wants you to know about it, Tammy or Donna will tell you.

5. And speaking of manners, put yours in your pocket every time you leave home so they are always with you. Good manners can carry you a long way from home.

6. From my mother: Wear your smile, too. It's your best accessory.

7. You can only kill the Neighborly Neigh-Sayers and Negative Nellies with kindness for so long before you just have to open up that six-pack of whoop ass and let loose. Just don't make it your go-to move.

8. I don't care what your IQ is, where you went to grad school, or that you have a doctorate in the study of quantum physics: you need to learn to do your own cooking, cleaning, and laundry. The mastering of those so-called menial tasks says more to me about a person than any framed sheepskin on the wall.

9. If its important to you, its important. Don't let anyone tell you its not. Like your bed made with hospital corners? Toilet paper rolls off the top only? Pets are okay only if they aren't yours? Project Runway is more important than Meet The Press ? Whatever it is, own it, embrace it, celebrate it.

10. I can't think of another right now, I just like lists to have 10 items.

Have a great week, everyone.

For Megs- My Autobiography, Condensed

2009-10-17T12:45:00.012-04:00

Above photo: Me, circa August 1988, about 18 months before the end of my time living in Kewanee, IL.

I got an email from Megs the other day asking for my recollections of childhood in Kewanee, IL. While I have many memories from childhood, I think mine was always a race to get to the next thing. Let me explain.

We moved to Kewanee after my 2nd Grade year. My youngest sibling at the time was Katie, and my mom would soon be pregnant with my sister, Abbie. My childhood up until this point was spent in the LaSalle-Peru area of Illinois; my childhood was marked by new babies and new houses; my childhood was constantly in motion. I think knowing this helps explain my comfort with being occupied at all times, and my awkwardness with "down time."

My running reflects this upbringing in that I'm always training, always in motion, struggling to enjoy the moment of the "now" because I've already moved on to the Next Thing on the List. My career/current job also falls in line with this (Dinner for 250+ people, activities and prizes? OK!). Enough analyzation, let's get to the memory portion!

For Megs

1. What was life like when you moved to Kewanee (not because of the move, just life in general, at that stage in life)? Well, I had just finished 2nd Grade at St. Patrick's Catholic Grade School. The prettiest dress I owned was my First Communion dress, which I later wore for a family portrait when we moved to Kewanee. My best friends were Elizabeth Janz, Jenny Bichl, and maybe Missy Marchesi, but I also remember Kim Gergovich (which I think is a cool name), Joey Reardon (because we were the first kids in line to First Communion- both short!), and Eric Duchaine. I remember living down the street from the new kindergarten teacher, Miss Kasperski, and she still lived at home with her parents and siblings. I remember Saturday mornings marked by watching cartoons on television, eating donuts from The Baker's Dozen bakery (right next to D'Angelo's Salon, across from the Westclox factory), or sometimes we would have the frozen glazed donuts (which tasted exactly like fresh Krispy Kreme donuts, I swear). I was pretty happy, I think.

2. What were your reactions to the house, the town? Had you ever been to Kewanee or heard of it? I remember driving to Kewanee for the first time with my mom and visiting the house before we moved in. We met the old woman who was selling the home, and got a tour. It was very much an "old lady" home at the time, with lots of knick knacks and strange smells. I remember having to dress up for the trip, and I don't remember any other kids with us, except for maybe Katie, who was the baby at the time. The house, I thought, was too big, cavernous. I had never heard of Kewanee before we moved there, but plenty of people knew LaSalle-Peru. And I was only 8, so my traveling was limited to wherever my parents took me. I remember moving day, and arriving at the house to absolutely every aunt and uncle we had- plus all four grandparents- moving things around, carrying boxes, making a huge pot of chili in the kitchen (which at the time had this awesome red wallpaper and a red telephone with rotary dial), running through the halls under people's feet, getting lost and having to back-track (The upstairs was an apartment when we moved in, and the hallway was blocked. There was a wall just past what was my high school bedroom, right next to mom & dad's room, and so that far end of the hallway- from the hall closet to the bathroom- was inaccessible from the front stairway). Total chaos from Day One.

3. Was the transition difficult? Did you share your feelings with parents/siblings? For me, no on all counts. If I had to guess, I'd say that Eric and Lisa would have had more reason to be pissed than I would have, especially Eric, who came to Visitation School in 8th Grade. Adolescent awkwardness! Lisa and me, I think, assimilated pretty easily. I think having so many younger sibling diverted my attention from missing anything. Plus, by this point, I was used to the constant motion of my life, and had learned to not attach feeling to anything/anyone, since experience had shown that there was a good chance that things could change in short order.

4. What feelings did you keep from parents? Many times growing up- and especially as the number of siblings increased- I would secretly wish to be an only child, or to have not so many siblings. Remember that episode of "The Brady Bunch" where Jan wished she was an only child? I related to that, the feeling that there was too much going on around me to feel like an individual, the feeling that I would always/only be identified as part of a group. I also hated the fact that I had to wear glasses, and I remember several times coming home from school, sobbing, and throwing my glasses against my bedroom wall because I was convinced that I was going blind.

5. How do you see living in Kewanee, growing up in Kewanee, as a part of your life? What did living in Kewanee then mean to your life now? I see my time in Kewanee as another transitional phase: another stop on the journey, and never thought of it as permanent home. I only lived there for (maybe) 10 years before leaving. I have lived longer in Escanaba than anywhere else in my life, and even now I don't consider this permanent. A part of me thinks that finding comfort in a location, whether that be a state, town, or dwelling, is a sign of complacency, which in turn would breed contempt. I think a person needs to travel in order to become who they were always meant to be. Travel=education=evolution. I'm still testing that theory out, though.

Living in Kewanee for those years only reaffirmed my earlier life, and my life today. That is, it was a base, it was a place to be at that moment, on your way to the next place. It was, for me, never meant to be a permanent place. The constant motion I remember from early childhood has followed me to this day. I love to travel, to explore, to learn new things. Kewanee's options were exhausted early on for me- it was never a place I ever wanted to return to. "Life" was always somewhere else, and it was always the exact opposite of where I was.

And that, dear readers, is your glimpse into my world.

My First Love: Fashion

2009-10-02T13:37:00.007-04:00

Yes, friends, its true. Fashion has always been my first love. I remember clothing from my childhood, remember favorite outfits, favorite dresses, favorite hand-me-downs. That's me, age 4, and the caption on the back of the photo reads "Birthday dress from Daddy" in my mother's unmistakable script. My earliest memory of fashion is probably when my family lived in Brownsville, TX. I remember sitting on a chair in our living room, looking at these beautiful stamps I found. They were Christmas Seals with very ornate pictures of the Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus in rich blues, deep reds, and gold. I decided that they would look best...on my legs. Rip, lick, attach, repeat. Improvised textured tights at age 3!

Other highlights from my childhood include thinking about how genius Garanimals were and thinking that the "L" and "R" on my tennies were for "Lisa" and "Rachel," not left and right. I liked dressing in the same clothes as my sister, like we were twins. See?

Even at such a young age, I could appreciate the classical nuances of a nautical-themed outfit. I remember one dress in particular that I absolutely hated. I was in first or second grade, and my mother asked me to try on a dress. I balked, scrunched up my face and refused. It was ugly, I said. Just try it on, begged my mother. I relented, and hated it even more. My mother gushed at how "smart" I looked. This dress was a drop-waisted number with long sleeves, bib collar, and the skirt was pleated. It was done up in a brown, pea green, and burnt orange paisley. Yes, this was ca. 1978. I took the thing off as fast as I could, and probably cried when my mother told me I'd be wearing it for my school pictures. What?! Not. Happy. At. All. When I look at that picture now, I see the beginnings of a very good actress.

Why all this talk about fashion, dear readers? Well, last night's Project Runway episode left so much to be desired. Boring boring boring! Nothing exciting or new. Plus, I'm still a bit pissy that Icky Nicolas won last week's challenge. I'd like him to go away now, please.

So I've been catching up on the Spring runway shows in Milan via the New York Times and Cathy Horyn, and must say that I am in love with Bottega Veneta's collection. And that led me to a blog I've heard of and visited in the past, but never really followed. Well, that's all changed now! Please get your daily fashion fix at The Sartorialist. Its worth the time, promise.

Have a great weekend everyone.

B & B Club, Revisited

2009-09-28T20:20:00.006-04:00

"B & B" Club? Well, back in the day, My Favorite Redhead, Becks and I had a book club. There were good books, good friends (more than just Red and Becks), and good drinks. Hence the moniker "Booze & Books." Please note the order of the wording: booze first. Anyhoo, things happened, gals moved around, lives got busy, and B & B was pushed to the back burner.

Until now. About six weeks ago, Red decided that we should resurrect the Club. Me and Becks were in agreement, and more fabulous women were invited to read the first book of the newly reincarnated "B & B" Club: The Plague of Doves by Louise Erdrich .

Red went to the local bookstore and when she told the clerk that she needed the book for her book club, the clerk told her about the discount offered to local book clubs who register at the store. Sweet! Which brings me back to the naming of the club. "Booze & Books" does not sound like the type of club for dentists' wives, youth program directors, community corrections directors, teachers...you catch my drift? And so it was shortened- abbreviated- to "B & B." And then when we found out that Becks is expecting (!!!), well, our minds just shot off hundreds of new word combinations that the two Bs could stand for. Bottles & Babies, Boobs & Boo-tay, Bruschetta & Bon Bons...I could go on.

And so it is that the re-formed B & B Club will have its first meeting in just three short weeks. I've already finished the book (amazing!), and am now in the menu-planning stages, since the meeting will be here at my house. Gourmet pizzas okay with everyone? Good.

Other news? Well, I ran the Quad Cities Marathon yesterday, and for the first race in a loooonnnnggg tiiiimmmmeee I developed nasty blisters. One on my back ankle about the size of a half dollar, and one on the inside ball of each foot. Ouch. So, the time I was aiming for (about 4:45) was seriously thwarted, and I finished instead in about 5:21. Greatly discouraged, yes; taking a break, yes; planning my next marathon already, yes.

New favorite quotes:

"Fall seven times and stand up eight." - Japanese Proverb

"It's hard to beat a person who never gives up." - Babe Ruth

Have a great week.

Farewell, Summer

2009-09-12T17:06:00.016-04:00

So, the first week of school happened while I was in Denver for a work-related conference. No biggie, right? Well, except for Daughter #1 getting side-swiped in the car on her way to school (and whomever hit her decided to leave the scene...), all was well. I'm surprised at how quickly and effortlessly my family fell back into their school year routines- Fall already! It seems like just last week that I was still tapping my foot and checking my watch, wondering why Summer hadn't shown up yet. And so, in the wake of Summer's end, I present to you another installment of my "From The Editor" article, originally published in my running club's newsletter, circa September-October 2008, and re-worked for this venue. Enjoy!

The other night, I put a quilt on my bed. Why does this matter? Well, because it was August when I wrote this, it was August that other night when I put the quilt on my bed, and as we all know, August is the month of Summer that is hot, sticky, sweltering, and most definitely un-quilt-ish. So why the quilt? And why the following story?

Some of you get it already, and some of you have clicked away from this page. Here it is: Summer is over.

My heart broke as I wrote those words. I love Summer unapologetically; I cast all affection to the season, caring not how the other seasons feel. Spring may tease with its sporadic 70-degree days, and Fall may try to trick us into thinking there's sunshine, what with its flame-hued leaves and such. Winter doesn't even try anymore- the cool blue and grey tones of the days are only fleetingly interrupted with glaring sunshine, momentarily making us Northern-dwelling folks forgo toques and gloves for a day. But it is Summer days- the entire length of them- that I enjoy.

This Summer (as in the Summers of the past two years) I thought for sure that I would be able to languish at the beach with a blanket and a good book. Work had other ideas for me. My (Never-Ending) kitchen renovation and new patio had other ideas for me. My family had other ideas for me.

Work renovation shopping laundry sleep patio work family vacuuming driving bargain hunting kids marathon stop to eat something anything renovation concrete splatter those bunnies are still here?

And that was just the first week of June. I've never been very good at allowing myself to relax and slow down, even when I know I'll crash hard. I had every intention of carving out a few hours for myself for unscheduled, unstructured alone time. Well, we all know that saying about the path and how it is paved...

So I settled into a routine at work, Mr. Fix settled into a routine with the renovation and new patio, and Daughters #1 and #2 kept up their Summer tradition of eating breakfast at noon. It wasn't until the summer program I run at work was complete that I realized I hadn't used any vacation days. Not. Even. One.

At this point, I know I need to get away and relax, focus on nothing but whatever I like. I know that my reward for (finally) indulging in some "Me Time" will be a sense of renewal and eagerness that has somehow slipped away with the days of June, July and August. Is this what most people know as "revitalization of the spirit?" Today I am ready to face the start of another school year, another Fall marathon, and another Winter of cold cold cold cold cold!

And, maybe more importantly, I'm ready to accept that my "blanket and good book" meant for the beach are going to be my "quilt and good book" in my bed.

Pencils? Notebooks? Lunch Money?

2009-09-08T08:06:00.009-04:00

Check, check, and check. Today marks the first day of school for the Fix Family. YAY! While Mr. Fix and Daughters #1 & #2 make their way into their (not really) new daily routines, I am spending the day in airports. Yep, off to Denver for a conference.

Do you remember your very first day of school? I remember a few details: St. Patrick's Catholic School in LaSalle, IL; the kindergarten classroom was on the lower level of the building, with easy access to the playground; I remember asking my mom why some of the other kids were crying; the rest is a blur. I've always loved school. What's not to love about learning something new? Sure, you have to learn to take the good (art class, reading) with the bad (U.S. History, math concepts like "negative infinity"), but ultimately you learn something new every day.

I went from St. Pat's to Visitation School in Kewanee, IL, where not only was the location and scenery new, but so was the fact that we had to wear uniforms. And they were ugly, too. Royal blue, black and white plaid jumpers (or skirts, once you reached junior high). White, light blue, or even pale yellow blouses were allowed, and eventually we were allowed polo shirts instead. No pants for girls, except in Winter, and even then they had to be under our skirts. So ugly, such a horrible exercise in removing the individuality of youth. Did I hate wearing a uniform? YES. Would I ever consider sending my child to a school with uniforms? NEVER. Can I see the logic and convenience of uniforms? Kind of- I get the "convenient" part, and I get the whole "part of a group" thing. I just don't buy into it. If the message of the group is strong enough, it should survive and thrive while in cute clothes, no?

But I digress from the whole "first day" thing. No butterflies. A sense of excitement, maybe, but it has to do with the return to a routine, the sense of familiarity, a homecoming of sorts. I'm one of those people who advocate for year-round schooling. As a person in the education field, sometimes I find myself the outcast with that line of thinking. "How can you want to give up your Summers off?" Well, I don't have Summers off, and since research shows that kids do better with shorter breaks (say, three weeks) throughout the calendar year in terms of academic achievement, I don't see why our school system insists on keeping the status quo. Unions? Perhaps. But I know plenty of parents who would pitch a fit, too.

And speaking of pitching a fit, can you believe the baloney over President Obama's speech to the nation's school children? Really? You're going to keep your kids home from school because the President is addressing them? Maybe its time for you to go back to school and learn some manners.

So there. Have a great week!

Is That What I Think It Is?

2009-08-23T12:35:00.010-04:00

I can say with 100% certainty that I never expected to see a camel- two, even!- walking down my town's Main Street here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Normally, the parades around here have a few horses and maybe some dogs on fire trucks and stuff, but this parade had a mini-menagerie: horses, dogs, camels, and alpacas. Not to mention the non-animal attractions of your typical small town parade: giant tractors, Shriners on go-carts, muscle cars squealing out their tires, the high school marching band (where Daughter #1 made her debut as drum major), and pre-adolescent gymnasts tumbling in the street. The parade was to commemorate the "last" U.P. State Fair (the State has cut all funding for the fair as a budgetary measure). There were even bagpipers (my favorite).

It was nice to see this display, especially since I will not be going to the Hog Capital of the World for Labor Day this year. An ill-timed mandatory conference will be keeping me busy in Denver, keeping me from my annual pilgrimage to Illinois. *grumble grumble grumble*

Other than my summer program being complete, rushing to get annual grant reports finished, and having no time for just sitting in the sun, I am training for another marathon , and getting ready to send Mr. Fix, Daughters #1 and #2 back to school. Yay! I'm so ready to get them back on a regular schedule, you know? They don't do so well with unstructured days.

I did have time to run up to Marquette for an afternoon, and stopped and treated myself to some beautiful flowers from Garden Bouquet & Design . See?

A giant Dinner Plate dahlia and some Love Lies Bleeding were matched up with some of my own garden's standard dahlias and cannas (sp?). So lovely, and a nice bit of decor for a mid-week Ladies' Night Birthday BBQ with My Favorite Redhead, My Favorite Local Celebrity, and My Favorite Shiksa (who not only celebrated a birthday, but a close to her single life, too!).

Have a great week, and enjoy these last bits of Summer.

Winding Down

2009-08-07T16:39:00.007-04:00

Things this summer are certainly doing just that. My last post was all about how rushed things were for me this summer, and how I was conflicted a bit on which path I preferred to take: experiences or savoring. Well, in the photo above, I'm savoring that last bit of carefree fun before the stress of a wedding. My Favorite Redhead got married to The Mouth Doctor yesterday on Mackinac Island, and it was the loveliest affair. The guests were some of the best dressed people I've ever seen.

In choosing the "savor" option yesterday, I did miss out on the circus at work (the "experiences" option). Oh, yes. When I say "circus," I mean an actual circus! The theme for my summer program this year was "Under The Big Top," and so I had the fantastic student ambassadors from Illinois State University's Gamma Phi Circus come to the Great North Woods for a four-day camp with the kids. The final performance was yesterday afternoon.

I was busy sipping gimlets on the portico of The Inn at Stonecliffe , savoring the start of many years of happiness for two friends. There was a part of me, however, that missed the excitement of the experience happening at work. It was just a little part.

What else? Well, last week was the wedding of my younger sister back in Illinois, followed two days later by the Chicago Rock 'n' Roll 1/2 Marathon , where my big sister at some point passed me by, and finished almost two minutes ahead of me! Way to go! Its also where, after the run, I met my new boyfriend, record-setting marathoner Ryan Hall . See?

I also stalked the winner of the race, Kara Goucher, at the CVS the night before the run. She was buying Sweet & Salty Chex Mix, and I was fumbling with my new Blackberry, trying to get a photo. I felt like a really big dork, especially since no one else there knew who she was.

So now I'm certain the summer is winding down, and just when I'm at the point where my schedule is opening up to enjoy it. Ah, irony, thy name is Perfect Timing. Have a great weekend.

The Rush of Summer Days...

2009-07-26T12:14:00.006-04:00

...interrupted by the quietness of a wind farm in the Middle of Nowhere, Illinois. This was the scene I encountered driving to and from a family gathering last weekend. This is only about 10 miles from my parent's home, yet I never knew it existed. There's also a Mennonite Church. Who knew?

So the point of this photo is that it was a welcome respite from the very rushed summer I've been having. School ended, summer started, and the next thing you know, the 4th of July is over, my 20th Class Reunion is over, and I've got two weddings and a half marathon to get through in the next two weeks, not to mention a circus camp, staff evaluations, and a student incentive trip to plan and get through. I'm thinking I need a personal assistant.

So many times I'm guilty of trying to cram so much into my days and weeks that I fail to enjoy stillness and solitude. I remember having a conversation with My Favorite Redhead about this on one of our walks: should you try to get as much done as possible in this life, since you only have one life? Or should you take your time and savor a select few things? I've always been the "get as much in as possible" person, loving all of the adventure and new experiences. It's catching up with me this summer, though. I'm starting to recognize the importance of savoring every once in a while.

So today I will be savoring fresh laundry and a stocked pantry (Thank you, washing machine, dryer, and grocery store!), and perhaps get recharged for the next hectic weeks. Perhaps. Have a great week.

A Short Musing on Animals

2009-07-12T14:10:00.012-04:00

Those of you who know me, even just a little bit, know that I am not an animal lover. At all. I don't eat them, don't feel warm and fuzzy when they brush up against my leg, don't revel in their majesty. Animals in their natural setting don't appeal to me, nor do the ones kept in cages (or barns, kennels, or homes). They annoy me, unless they are like this fella above: ceramic. This particular Maneki Neko was in Restaurant Murata in Portland, OR; yummy sushi, cold sake, and good friends were there, too, but I digress.

What I do love are birds. Really. They gross me out and fascinate me at the same time. I ponder the idea of flight, and wonder just how fabulous it would be to fly yourself anywhere. I embrace the philosophy of having roots and wings in your life, and in instilling that way of thinking in your children. Take this: mother birds do not simply give nourishment to their babies; they chew it up and feed it to them. Human mothers do the same thing, in a way: the nourishment they provide their young are the life lessons they've experienced first hand- hard work, disappointment, loss, love- chewed up and spit out as often as intuition dictates. It is a fitting metaphor, this of human mother as bird mother, when you analyze it further.

I've written before about the robin's nest under the eaves of our garage. Last Spring I even posted pics of the eggs in the nest. This year, The Robins have returned to our garage (although robins return to their summer range in April, it cannot be said with certainty that this is the same robin from last year), and are on their second clutch. Mr. Fix has seen the mother bringing food to the nest, and has even seen the babies. One he got to see up close. Let me explain...

We have a rabbit (not one of the "pets" Mr. Fix and Daughter #2 insist on keeping) who is terrorizing the garden this year. I'd like to channel my inner Mr. McGregor and send Peter Rabbit on his way to the big vegetable garden in the sky, but Mr. Fix decided to live trap the bugger so he can be "relocated," like he's a middle-manager in computer software sales and not a wild animal. So, the live trap is set, and the next morning Mr. Fix checked the trap, and lo and behold, he has caught himself...a baby robin.

This is the little bugger after being set free. You can see (sorta) the downy feathers still clinging to its head. I was sitting on the veranda reading a book (The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner), when I heard a chirp cheer chirp sound. I looked down, and there this little bird was, looking up at me, head cocked to one side, as if waiting for me to answer the question: Are you my Mother? No, I am not your Mother; I am a Snort. *sigh*

It sat there, looking at me like that, for what seemed like a very long time. Longer than any other type of wild animal has ever paused before me. Squirrels spaz out. Stray cats scurry and hide. Chipmunks and porcupines and small voles and such remain hidden when I run on trails. Deer pretend to be surprised to see me (hence the "deer caught in the headlights" phrase), there in my car, speeding down the highway as they try to cross the road. Stupid deer.

But birds have always lingered, calling out with their songs, waiting for a response. Cautious. Deliberate. Bright. And then they're gone from their perch like that. Keep your babbling brook and crunch of feet on pine needles; the soft flap of morning wings or the strong thrust of a bird on the hunt are sounds of nature I like.

Other musings? I've signed on for another marathon , but first need to tackle an exciting half marathon . I'm also tackling my *gulp* 20th high school reunion. Obviously, I've got some interesting weeks ahead of me. I'll keep you posted.

Travel Makes You Smarter

2009-06-27T18:29:00.007-04:00

I'm convinced its true, you know. Not only do you get the experience of visiting a (maybe) new locale, but you get the getting there experience, too. Is there anything better, really, than people watching in the airport?

Last week, my Adventure in Getting Smarter involved a trip to Duluth, MN for Grandma's Marathon . Lake Superior decided to take a mini vacation that weekend, too, so there were no welcoming breezes along the scenic 2-lane, black-topped highway from Two Harbors to downtown Duluth. My (second in two months) attempt at a marathon PR was yet again thwarted (last month, the hills of Cincinnati kept me slow). I need help, is what I learned. And so I've been researching marathon programs, picking the brains of faster friends, and generally becoming obsessed with running.

This week, my Adventure in Getting Smarter involves a little bit of work, a little bit of fun, and even some running. I'm attending a conference in Portland, OR on using the data we gather from testing the kids I work with. Exciting, I know, but Portland is pretty cool. I've been here about eight hours, and not only have I already found a Trader Joe's at which to spend my per diem allowance, but I've also found a local running shop with a Tuesday night running group- "open to everyone, no matter the pace!"

So maybe I'll post again on what, exactly, I learned from this conference. Or maybe I'll post a lot of swear words, crabby from brain drain and data and aggregated results, etc. etc. etc.

Also, Pandora (Internet radio station) is a sanity saver. Check it out, and have a great week.

The Ol' College Try

2009-06-13T16:48:00.003-04:00

That, dear readers, is Mr. Fix on the left, and our dear old friend, Freddy, on the right. I believe they're in their dorm room at the Herman Crown Center downtown Chicago. Or someone's room. Dateline 1990. We recently reconnected with the crew via the magic of the Internet, and its been so good to catch up on everyone's lives. Of course, catching up has brought back memories of the shenanigans we pulled, the parties we rocked (anyone remember the one at the loft above Trent Reznor's place? And how we kept seeing that white owl?), and the people who have now walked on. *sigh*

Which brings me to the reason for this post: college. Daughter #1 is officially a senior in high school now. She is also the class president (Among her official duties? Speaking at the commencement ceremony next Spring.) and the drum major for marching band (the music program at her school is top-notch). All of this means that we now need to look seriously at college options. My luxurious three-day weekends this summer? Interrupted by the need to visit colleges and give them the thorough once-over.

When I was a high school senior, I had already made up my mind about college. I visited maybe three colleges, and made up my mind the minute I set foot in Chicago that "THIS is where I belong!" I loved everything about the city and the campus, and really kinda failed to investigate the more mundane details...like tuition and housing. Well, my mistakes will be her gain. Not that I regret my decision- not at all. Its just that perhaps my parents were less than enthusiastic about my choice (and honestly, there were still going to be six younger mouths to feed once I left for college), and probably were concerned about their lack of ability to help out in any way, shape or form. What did they know about art school? Nada. It made me develop a thick skin, and a very independent outlook on things. Which I also don't regret.

Right now her choices are pretty general, but I can see her beginning to narrow her focus. Visiting campuses I'm sure will help things along. I'm wishing and hoping that the process for her will be as serendipitous as it was for me. No Chicago = no Mr. Fix or Freddy (or Throb, Thor, Dan, Christian, John, Sandy, Roz & Jen...). Again, *sigh*

Other than those musings, I'm still in fighting shape and ready to give yet another marathon the Ol' College Try. This time around its Grandma's Marathon in Duluth, MN. Weather forecast? Sunny, humid, and 80 degrees. The high temps lately where I live? 57 degrees. You can guess how this is gonna go: either I'll acclimate immediately and run great, or I'll buckle and swear the entire run. I'll keep you posted.

Have a great week, and if you're able, find an old friend and reconnect. You'll feel good, I swear.

Welcome, Spring!

2009-05-24T11:40:00.007-04:00

Say hello to our newest family member, christened Eugene by Daughter #2. Mr. Fix built him out of scraps in the classroom/shop and brought him home just in time for the long holiday weekend. Close up? Sure:

I think he needs a propeller on top of his hat, and perhaps even a bowl filled with birdseed on his tray. Mr. Fix isn't keen on that, as he thinks the birdseed would spray all over the actual garden and sprout unwanted plants. I think we'll add the propeller, at least.

May is almost over, and somehow I got talked into running another marathon- Grandma's Marathon in Duluth, MN. I've run it once before, and I remember it was hot and humid, and I had to endure a tour of an ore boat in Duluth's harbor with my family. I hate boats.

Yesterday, however, brought another sure sign of Spring in these parts: my Run & Brunch event. Me and my running pals ran a local 5K/10K race (PR day for me- 26:21! Woo hoo!), then headed over to my home for a delicious (if I do say so myself) spread that included Mom's Famous Italian Beef, Jet Potatoes, and a Sausage & Apple Frittata. It was really a lovely way to kick off a holiday weekend. I have the coolest friends.

And so, in the spirit of generosity, I will post the recipe for Mom's Famous Italian Beef. Enjoy!

Mom's Famous Italian Beef

You need a crock pot that can hold a rolled beef roast, about 4-5 pounds. I used a roast plus some boneless "country style" beef ribs. Put the meat in the crock pot. Add to this: 1-1/2 tsp. oregano, 1 tsp. basil, about 1 tsp. cayenne pepper, some fresh ground black pepper (maybe 1 tsp. or so), 2 cloves crushed garlic, 1 package Italian Dressing Mix (the dry stuff), 1 package onion soup mix (again, the dry stuff), 1/4 c. vinegar, and 3/4 c. water. I also added a package of fresh sliced mushrooms, just to be different. Put the crock pot on "high" and leave it alone for 6 hours. Turn it to "low" and leave it alone for another 2 hours. Take the roast out of the crock pot and shred it up with a fork. This will be supremely easy to do, as the meat will literally fall apart as you try to take it out of the pot. Put the shredded meat back in the crock pot with the juicy goodness and serve warm on rolls (I used mini kaiser rolls) with an assortment of condiments, like dijon mustard, horseradish, and good ol' ketchup.

Yes, you only add one cup of liquid total. Trust me, it works. Have a great weekend!

Another Medal for the Collection

2009-05-10T20:42:00.006-04:00

Now, that's what I call room service! That's the stash of food stuffs we had in our hotel room last weekend in Cincinnati. Ah, yes, the Flying Pig Marathon 2009 edition is now history. It was incredibly challenging and not at all for beginners. I was slowed by about one minute per mile, finishing in 4:52 (11:10/mile). I trained for 10 min./mile. Did you know about all the hills in southern Ohio? Me, neither.

When stuff like this happens- when I'm prepared for things to go one way, and they end up going another- I try to focus on the positive. Its difficult sometimes, especially when so much work has been invested. So my goal is always to remember that you cannot change the past; you cannot change what has already happened. All you can do is learn something from it, and move on. Evolve.

Mantra: Any day I can run 26.2 miles is a Good Day.

Mantra: This is what we do.

Mantra: It can't be changed; move on.

I guess these mantras are my own little prayers, in a way. Meditations, affirmations, whatever. They make me regain my focus and answer the questions: What do I want? How will I get it? Who else is involved? They work for me.

This past week has been one of not running (weird), but running assessments of elementary students at work. May is such a jam-packed month in the education world, and seeing how I'm in that world (and my husband, too), May is one of my least favorite months. I really cannot wait until its over. Three weeks until school is done ( but my daughters are in until the second week of June), and then about a one-week reprieve until my summer programming begins. Ah, summer! Maybe we'll see warm temperatures soon? I can only hope.

One last mantra: The miracle isn't that I finished; the miracle is that I had the courage to start. (John "The Penguin" Bingham)

Have a great week!

Wait a Second...

2009-04-21T08:24:00.005-04:00

...are those different flavors of Razzles? The delicious treat that is first a candy, then a gum? Yes, it is. From the top: a cute card from Katie, Original Razzles, Tropical Razzles, and Sour Razzles.

For those of you not in the know, I am a Connoisseur of all things Candy. I'm not talking chocolate here (ick, no!); I'm talking sugary, childish goodness. Blow Pops. Lick-A-Stick. Bottle Caps. Chewy Runts. Skittles (side note: I have tried every flavor of Skittle out there, from spearmint & peppermint, to smoothie, to the "Carnival" variety). The quintessential "kid in the candy store?" Its me.

I've always loved candy, and I have a mouth full of expensive dental work to prove it. I had the opportunity to meet up with an old friend this week while I was in Chicago, and our conversation turned to the horrible things we eat and then shrug off because of our exercise habits (he, too, is a marathoner/triathlete). We should really stop eating things just because their ingestion can be justified by what others deem "unnecessarily extreme" exercise routines. Or should we?

99% of the time, I am a wonderfully healthy eater. No meat, no poultry. Whole grains. Tons of fresh fruit & veggies. Low dairy intake. Occasional alcohol, occasional soda. And then someone will throw me a wrench, like...Christmas Eve, when I'm obligated to make Red Velvet Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting. Who in their right mind would NOT eat this? "I'll get up and run tomorrow...maybe 5 miles..." and down the hatch it goes.

Is this a type of eating disorder? Dunno. But I do know that if I didn't know my body needed food to function properly, I wouldn't eat half as much as I do. I've never been a big eater, and really, I can't be bothered so much to stop and nourish myself. I'm one of those people who is just waiting for the day when all of our daily nutrients can be ingested in pill form, or better yet, in a stick of gum, Willy Wonka-style: roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy...and blueberry cobbler! Just call me Violet Beauregard!

Other news? T-11 days and counting until race day in Cincinnati. Just got back from a great conference in Chicago with my Summer staff, and totally enjoyed the city. I miss Chicago so much, especially when the weather is so fantastic (74 degrees when we left on Friday!). Plus, I got to reconnect with some high school friends- such fun! 20 year reunion coming up in July (!!!), so I'll definitely have more to write about. In the mean time, have a great week!

Renovation Update: The Kitchen Years

2009-04-13T08:48:00.017-04:00

Yes, a renovation update, but first a distraction: how many pieces of chocolate do you think are in this container? This was the "Guess How Many?" prize for my work's Easter (f$31**#) Potluck- an event I both love and loathe. Guess the amount correctly and you get the bucket o' candy (not really YOU, but someone at the Potluck).

Below you will see the rough version of my new island as you look out the back door. That is a prep sink on the near end (no faucet yet), and my collection of cookie cutters on the far end (they still haven't found a home in the new cabinets...). Under the sink on the right side will be an access door for the plumbing. On the left side of the island will be two pull-out door/drawers for garbage/recycling and compost (or bins for things like potatoes and rice, which we buy in bulk). The counter top will again be the fantastic concrete we have on the other bank of cabinets.

In this next pic you can see almost the entire kitchen from the view point of the front room of the house. The last of the old cabinets were demolished this weekend by Mr. Fix and myself, and then Mr. Fix took them and released the toxicity of cheap old cabinets into the ozone with a burn pile. OSB and other pressed "wood" products burn fast and hot, I'm told.

Its going to be the one year anniversary of our kitchen renovation soon; it seems waaaayyy longer than that! Our last bits to get done are: 1) faucet and counter top for the island; 2) install light fixture above the island; 3) crown molding on tall bank of cabinets; 4) tile back splash.

It is this last item we're waffling on a bit. Our original thought was "white ceramic subway tiles." Then I fell IN LOVE with some white glass subway tiles. Swanky, right? And just plain beautiful. Now, we're wondering if our first choice was better? More economical, for sure, but what about longevity? Will the glass make our kitchen look dated in 10 years?

And then there's the whole other saga of the bar stool I absolutely fell in love with from DWR . Oh, the industrial beauties would be so super perfect for our space! Take a look for yourself here . Yes, in the yellow. No, I can't afford them. No, not even if they're on sale. *sigh*

Other news? Less than three weeks out from my Spring marathon . I'm so ready for this one. My training has been solid and I feel strong. This week, though, I'll be in Chicago- Yay, Chicago!- for a conference on summer learning. I know, the excitement never ends. But this is a conference I've attended in the past, and it is fabulous and useful and not at all a chore to attend. Plus, the Cubs are in town, so if I can't be found at one of my afternoon sessions, and return the next morning at breakfast whistling "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," well...

Have a great week! (PS- the correct number was 527.)

Bringing Spring Indoors

2009-03-31T16:25:00.006-04:00

March 22nd- this is about two days after Mr. Fix brought the forsythia branches inside.

March 26th- yellow and green starting to open up.

March 31st- lovely yellow blooms to stare at while I sip my coffee.

Close up of the blooms. I figured I should bring that sunshine to myself, since it is evading this part of the country and really putting a damper on my overall mood. I haven't even been wanting to run or go outside or anything. This week is Spring Break for my husband and kids. I still have to work, and let me tell you, the crappy weather is helping make going in to work tolerable.

What else? Well, Mr. Fix just went to the lumber yard to pick up supplies for the island portion of the Never-Ending Kitchen Renovation. Only 5 weeks until the marathon, and I'm dragging my feet on booking a flight. So far the best price is $300 round trip, and I'm thinking that come payday, I'll have to cave and purchase before they're gone. But seriously, how many people are really itching to go to Cincinnati? And will I ever be able to say/write/think about "Cincinnati" without singing the theme song to "WKRP in Cincinnati?" Probably not.

Baby, you and me were never meant to be. Just maybe think of me once in awhile. I meant W-K-R-P in Cincin-aaaa-tiii.....

Cold No More

2009-03-22T16:58:00.004-04:00

The photo above shows my windbreaker turned inside-out after my last long run before getting sick. It is shiny and the wetness is my sweat, which froze & turned into ice & stayed trapped inside the jacket until I peeled it off. Then it began to melt and drip all over the floor. Kinda gross, I know, but it was only like 10 degrees outside that day and I was layered up beyond belief.

Today was a different story. I ran in capris with only a long sleeved technical tee and a vest. It was sunny and warmer than it has been (about 39 degrees today), and I was able to use the entire running/biking path through the park now that the snow mountains are melting away. It was lovely and energizing and all of the good things about running. Plus, my run was fast today: I was supposed to run at race pace (about 10 minutes/mile), but ended up running way faster than that- 9:15 min./mile. Like I posted on facebook , "My training is paying dividends!"

Adding to my sense of accomplishment today? Daughter #1 asked when we could take the growing pile of stuff in the upstairs hallway to Goodwill. I said I'd help her load it in the car & she could take it today. Her willingness to help (and her shared affliction of Clean Disease) spurred me to further purge my closet, my husband's clothing, and my accessories collection. Is there anything so satisfying as getting rid of clutter? I think not.

So, now that my computer is updated, my run is complete, my mother-in-law provided leftovers galore for dinner, and the last load of laundry is in the washing machine, it is time to enjoy the last few hours of the weekend. Here's to a great week!

WTF?

2009-03-18T20:45:00.004-04:00

A bit of a rant, so bear with me.

I'm frustrated once again (and always, it seems) with the behavior of men. Not men in general, but the men in my life, both intimately and peripherally. I am confused as to why they behave in a way that makes them seem like their personal growth stunted at age 15 or 16. Why the perpetual adolesence? Is it something done in response to something women do? Their parents? Their siblings, cousins, friends?

I want to believe that men are capable of rising above fart jokes and petty arguments in favor of intelligent conversation and responsible actions. I want to believe that when I say to them, "I need you to do X, Y, and Z" that they will actually do X, Y, and Z. I want to relate to someone- not a female friend- who knows me well enough to anticipate my wants and needs and act on those rather than looking past those in favor of...more fart jokes.

During my bartending years, a regular of mine told me that men don't grow up until they hit age 45 (and he knew what he was talking about, I'm pretty sure). Look, I'm 37, and I think waiting another 8 years is a ridiculous thing to ask of me.

So, thank you dear friends for bearing with me. A good rant is, as my Martha says, "a Good Thing." The weekend is only two days away...

Smile, already!

2009-03-13T09:31:00.006-04:00

Above image found here .

See? Even the birds have a reason to smile! Its the weekend, and around these parts the weather is going to be a huge improvement over the past week: sunny and mid-40's.

It'll be the perfect weather for me to pick up my running again after the past week of Feeling Crappy (see previous post). I've got other big plans, too: Turbo Tax is calling, the pile of stuff for Goodwill is blocking bathroom access upstairs, the one unfinished baby sweater arm is waving at me like a broken doll, and the only thing my laundry needs is a spark of lightning to bring it to life a la Frankenstein. So, running and other stuff on the docket, I guess!

Have a great weekend.

UGH.

2009-03-12T09:14:00.003-04:00

Title and photo kinda says it all, huh? Well, here's the scoop: Last week I was trying to shake the symptoms of what I thought were allergies (back story: Mr. Fix brought home another bunny- a lion mane bunny- and it has long hair and needs to stay indoors until the coldest of the cold weather has gone. More on this another time.). I had it all: stuffy nose, itchy eyes, scratchy throat...all of these things I get when I'm around cats. We both figured, "Oh, it must be the bunny." So I suck it up and cope like I always do, buying Sudafed at the pharmacy along with a box of those super-addictive Vicks-and-lotion Puffs (which I call "Crack for the Congested"). I even stayed home from work on Friday (okay, that was planned already, but I'm glad I did because I felt like crap).

I had a lovely although much too short lunch with My Favorite Redhead and My Favorite Local Celebrity, and when Mr. Fix came home from school he laid this on me:

"Uh, you might want to get that throat thing checked out. There's a ton of kids out at school with strep."

Aw, man! Really? So I hightail it to the FastCare Clinic, and sure as sunshine, I'm positive for strep and given a 10-day supply of penicillin. Up until this point, I've felt a bit tired, but nothing awful. Friday night and I'm looking forward to chillin' on the couch with the latest episode of What Not To Wear (yes Katie, they ARE my friends!), and its like a ton of bricks just smacked me from all sides and underneath. I even texted My Favorite Redhead as through she were Daughter #1. OUT OF IT!

To shorten it up, it is now Thursday, and I'm just starting to feel better. My throat is good, my congestion is less and less each day (although I do have a new addiction to my humidifier), and my energy level is almost to the point where I'm contemplating a run tomorrow morning (that's right- I haven't run since last week!).

Point of this rambling? Take care of yourself. Do not (after you've been diagnosed with strep and been in and out of consciousness for two days) decide to rid your home of germs by scrubbing rooms from top to bottom with bleach products; this will just make you more tired. You may, however, get pissy with your mate for not picking up some slack while you try to recuperate.

Hope the end of the week finds you healthy and happy.

2009-03-04T08:26:00.007-05:00

I've always enjoyed the quirky, sublime humor in The Far Side comics. The above is a scanned image of a postcard I received waaaaayyy back in 1988 from a dear friend who went away to college and left me to navigate my senior year of high school alone. *snif*

But now- thanks to TECHNOLOGY!- we have re-connected via facebook . I'm finding myself oddly drawn to be "friends" with people I knew peripherally in high school. I guess the explorer/social anthropologist in me has too much pull for me to just click "ignore" on those friend requests. It is interesting to see how your high school mates have aged (it has been, for me, 20 years!), and I like to claim that by "friending" these folks on facebook, you're really just participating in a highly evolved form of people-watching.

Anyhoo, other than not having started the new book I bought (The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski), and being totally blindsided by how emotional I was with the book I read to my students (Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls)- and I mean bawling like a big ol' baby- I've been steadily going through the motions of marathon training and daily life.

I did, however, complete Phase 2 of the running t-shirt quilt I started with my mother-in-law, my husband's Auntie Vikki, The Devil, and Vicky the Bail Bond Lady. Have you seen these things? Well, you take all the t-shirts from races you've run in, cut them up so you just have the logo from the front (or back, or sleeves, etc.), and you use those for the blocks of a quilt. I've seen lots, but Auntie Vikki made one for my father-in-law that is absolutely gorgeous, and the rest of us- having runner's envy- had to have one, too. So last night we took the cut up shirts and backed them with the fusible interfacing that will help stabilize the knit fabric. Next up is adding the individual block borders and sashing. Yes, I will post pics as things progress beyond a pile of what other people would consider rags.

I took the day off from work today and am contemplating on running 4 miles at the YMCA, or 9 miles outside. I'm due to have a lunch/wine tasting/gossip session with My Favorite Redhead, so we'll see how the rest of the morning unravels. Hope the weekend finds you happy.

Keeping It In Perspective

2009-02-27T10:14:00.007-05:00

For your reading pleasure, the latest installment of my "From the Editor" column for my running club's newsletter:

In the time-honored tradition of the women’s magazine questionnaire, a quiz of sorts:

Q: What is your motivation for running and/or training this year?
a) To lose those pesky 10 pounds you got for Christmas.
b) To FINALLY hit that race time you’ve been after for 10+ years.
c) To raise awareness for a charity or cause.
d) No one thing- you just love the feel of the wind on your face.
e) To keep your sanity for one more year.

Q: When training for a specific race or goal, you:
a) Do all of your workouts on a treadmill at the gym.
b) Strap on the latest in GPS and heart rate monitor technology.
c) Turn into a loner no one sees except on a training run.
d) Try a little too hard to recruit friends to train/run with you.
e) Keep telling yourself that all of this running keeps you sane.

Q: When discussing your training schedule with others:
a) They look at you like you’re bat-*!#$ crazy and roll their eyes.
b) You spend more time explaining running terms (fartleks, tempo runs, etc.).
c) They ask their doctor friends if what you’re doing is “normal” or “healthy.”
d) They desperately try to change the subject.
e) You justify your running with the phrase: “It keeps me sane!”

Q: You choose your races- marathons, half-marathons, trail runs, 5Ks- based on:
a) Proximity to where you live- no more than an hour from home.
b) Whether or not the course is known for being a fast “PR” course.
c) The size of the racing field- the bigger the better! Its a party!
d) Whether or not costumes are allowed & what the t-shirt looks like.
e) Logistics: Will training for and running this race make me insane?

Q: While reading through these questions:
a) You are proud of yourself and the goals you’ve set for this year.
b) You are really thinking of your next training run & if you have enough Gu.
c) You set the newsletter down because its messing with your mental energy.
d) You’re still thinking about costumes your running group can wear. Super heroes, anyone?
e) You look at your answers and think: People must think I’m insane!

What I really hope you’ve done is laugh at yourself and all of the running community. We tend to get a little caught up in how important we think we are, how special we think our sport is, how noble we think our causes are, and how our lives need to fit around our running rather than how our running can find a comfortable spot in our lives. Spring, more so than New Year’s Day, is the perfect time to reevaluate your life and make changes- new beginnings, you know? And for the record, I answered all of the questions “E!”

Have a great weekend.

72 Days and Counting

2009-02-18T22:52:00.003-05:00

Okay, so I've written before about my new Clean Living routine, right? Well a major part of this is training kinda hard for my next marathon. The training schedule I'm following is more intense than what I've done in the past, and this is the first race I've followed a plan for in the past year or so. Sure, I've printed out plans from Runner's World , but I've been pretty lax about following them, usually just picking and choosing workouts to fit around my schedule rather than be my schedule.

My fellow running sisters think I'm crazy, my husband thinks I'm going to kill myself this way, and my fellow running friends think my schedule is nothing out of the ordinary. I guess that just goes to show you that there's different levels of crazy that are acceptable. How crazy? Well, here's a sample week from my program- this week's schedule to be exact:

Monday- 3 mile recovery run
Tuesday- 8 mile run
Wednesday- 4 mile run
Thursday- 40 minute tempo run
Friday- rest day
Saturday- 8 mile run @ race pace
Sunday- 17 mile run

Weekly total = approximately 45 miles. The mileage just goes up from there, folks.

I need new shoes...

Ohmmmm...

2009-02-10T19:28:00.005-05:00

...so today started with the 5:28 am phone call letting us know that school was cancelled (freezing rain + rural country roads= scary school bus ride). Daughters #1 and #2 both slept in, as did I (until about 7:45 or so). Mr. Fix had the coffee brewed and was already tuned in to The History Channel when I came downstairs. The morning was pretty uneventful- laundry, paying bills, swearing at the dog- and then Daughter #1 came downstairs and made pink banana pancakes for everyone. Dee-lish!

I managed to get in an 8 mile training run outside, too. The sun was out, the temp was around 42, I wore capris, and I had a new playlist on my iPod. The run, however, was a bit...sloppy. The snow has been melting, right? Well, some of it is still blocking the sewer grates, and there are VERY LARGE puddles at every corner. So my socks and shoes got soaked & I'm trying to dry out my shoes before I need them again tomorrow night.

I've been exercising 5-6 days per week lately; its all part of my Clean Living routine, along with breakfast every day, no processed foods, and as few Lofthouse Cookies as possible (that one's hard). I've also been trying to incorporate more volunteer work into my days. I started with mentoring through Big Brothers Big Sisters and am working with a really special kid named Peter. Last week we made Play-doh with Kool-Aid. This past weekend I volunteered at the high school's Solo & Ensemble Band competition. Boy, can those band geeks work themselves up into a nervous frenzy! Its all part of a county-wide initiative my department at work is part of called 100 Hours of Hope . Check it out and share your thoughts and ideas. We've also got a blog set up! Go HERE.

So now comes the explanation regarding the title of this post. A dear friend of ours, Buddha Bob, has been battling lymphoma, and thankfully is now in remission. Check out how he's been giving back not only to his community, but to other cancer survivors, too, by reading THIS.

Have a great week!