Now or Never

For most people, the winter holidays are a time for introspection, memory, and nostalgia; for me, this congregation meets in the summertime. Summer's endless days- and the laziness with which the nights come- are prime breeding ground for me and my thoughts, my memories, my hopes and wishes. Sometimes a memory will come back at me like a blast of hot air from the oven; sometimes it just tickles my neck like a lover's breath.

Warm weather and it's winsome ways always have me thinking back in time; my fondest memories always feature the sun shining brightly, warming my skin, reflecting off my wide smile. July 4th has always been my favorite holiday (Hello? Sunshine and fireworks? No brainer.). I have Utopian childhood memories of endless days and still-light nights spent playing Ghost in the Graveyard or Kick the Can; running around the shores of Rawson's Lake and hearing Uncle Len sing and play the ukulele while everyone else fished and drank beer; picking raspberries and blackberries behind the school across from my grandparents' house.

When I moved to Michigan, I realized that summer started around July 1st and ended somewhere in the week immediately post-U.P. State Fair. New memories included running the Firecracker 5 Mile in Gladstone, followed by a marathon day of swimming, sunning, kayaking, eating, bonfires, fireworks and more.

Summer was also the start of fall marathon training runs with Doug. For many many years, we would take off from his house and run south on M-35, past Breezy Point Bar, past the Ford River bridge, a brief stop at Satch's house for pre-stashed Gatorade and snacks, then maybe a few more miles down the road before turning around and retracing our steps. Satch's house was 13 miles, Mayville Road about 16, No See-Um Creek was 21. Grandpa Herb was always waiting with coffee cake- lots of frosting, per my request- upon our return.

But I digress...it is during these times when my mind wanders from the present-day sun-dappled sidewalk either backwards or forwards in time, the direction dictated by the momentum of the "What if...?" at the front of my brain.

What if...I never moved to Chicago?...I didn't have babies when I did?...I never moved to Michigan?...I never started running?...I wasn't right there when Doug collapsed?...I never had my mental toughness and emotional strength tested like that?...I stayed in my poor excuse of a marriage?...Where would I be now?

We all have moments, memories that we say we "regret," our voices' tones quietly serious and rueful. Regret happens, but is it useful? Hmm...I don't think so. I've always been one to preach that you cannot change the past, you need to learn something from it and move on: evolve. To regret would be to negate the lessons learned- If: Then: - and who would you be then? Not the same person you are now, feeling sorry for yourself, feeling a loss for something that will never happen because the circumstance can't be recreated to make it so: you cannot make regrets materialize and transform into new memories to replace the old ones.

It can't happen. Stop wasting your time on this. Think about it this way: Why waste your time wishing your memories were something else when you could be busy creating new ones?

And so that's what I've willed myself to do: move on, evolve. And now the "What ifs" at the front of my brain are of this variety:

What if...I train for a triathlon?...I get my Master's degree?...I choose to be happy? Every day?...I tell my friends I love them before its too late?...I stop chasing and grasping and flailing and just BE?...I find New Mr. Rachel? How will that new adventure play out?

And I'm busy making new memories, every day. I tell people I love them more freely, and without reservations. I try new things with only minor trepidation. I'm okay with not getting it right the first time around. I'm planning vacations- currently in the hope/wish stage, but- and exploring options. I'm still a resident of Hopeful, Unincorporated when it comes to New Mr. Rachel. I'm thankful for all of my What ifs; I've just learned to not let the ones tinged with regret take control.

Lastly, do me a favor: 1) Listen to this song. I will preface it by saying that it is the most beautiful, yet saddest, and yet strangely uplifting song I've ever heard. 2) Think about the What ifs in your own life, both kinds. 3) Make changes so that the potential outcomes match your hopes and wishes.

Fill your days with love and joy, not regret. Don't miss out on right now.

Permanence

permanence (noun): the state or quality of lasting or remaining unchanged indefinitely.


After 15 years of living in the Upper Peninsula, I've decided its time to embrace this place.

My new found enthusiasm for this place- the 906, the Yoop, God's Country- is, I think, indicative of the fact that I'm back to who I used to be. Explanation...???

I've never really been able to feel completely welcome here in the U.P.; there's something about being a transplant that, no matter who you know, or how hard you try to assimilate, or how much you try to learn about your adopted place, you will always be the Other.

Other. Its a role I know well, and it has (of course) spilled from general life to my personal life. It can't be avoided. Being the Other is something that people in transition become: new town, new neighborhood, new job, new relationships. When we move ourselves to a place where change is inevitable, we also need to recognize that so is our role of becoming Other. Anyone who has been in a difficult relationship or been through a divorce can relate to this role. Friends quickly learn that although two are invited, only one will ever RSVP; you, Other, will always be along for the ride as the third- or fifth- or even seventh wheel.

And mostly, you will be grateful for such kind friends who refuse to mention the absence of your partner. Every. Time.

But I digress. This post is not about transitions, really. It is about the permanence that results from change. Yet it is also about Returning to Self.

You see, the past two years have been a serious Return to Self for me, a transition come full circle, if you will. People who have known me for longer than 15 years surely know what I'm talking about. The people who have only known me since then may have caught glimpses of that girl from time to time, but are really only now beginning to experience her most of the time.

My time here in the U.P. has afforded me the blessing of creating a surrogate family for myself, friends culled from awful jobs or through mutual friends, through shared interests or family. And those people whom I am so lucky to include among the branches of my family tree have accepted me as Other without blinking an eye.

I figure then, that as a re-commitment or Return to Self, I can in turn accept this place I have called home for 15 years with open arms and a smile rather than deep sighs and eye rolls. There is so much I want to do now...

I want to spend time with that floating feeling near Lake of the Clouds. I want to get lost running the trails near Copper Harbor. I want to plunge into Lake Superior from the Black Rocks with Jeff while Kristina takes our picture. I want to go swimming in Christmas with Bridgette and her dogs. I want to have ice cream with Joanna and her babies at the Dairy Flo in Rapid River while we hatch grand business plans. I want to run the Kipling loop with Jessica- even the North Bluff hill part- in preparation for another last-minute, cheap & easy race vacation. I want to read books in the sand at the far end of Aronson Island on a summer day. I want to have too many late night cocktails with Kris and Steph while their baby and dogs sleep down the hall. I want to drive around drinking coffee and running errands with Pat. I want to eat copious amounts of guacamole and laugh, open mouthed and without sound, with Maggie (beergaritas implied).

I want to do all of these things as a testament to the power of transition, to the power of the permanence these family members have used to burn a place on my heart.

I'm just now, 15 years on, becoming comfortable with my role as Other; even though it was made mine as a result of transition, it is a role I'm comfortable making permanent.

Welcome home.

Vacation

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...

Things are Looking Up

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.

For Megs- My Autobiography, Condensed

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

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.

Photo by John Handwerk.
For David:

I'm not the kind of man
Who tends to socialize
I tend to lean on
Old familiar ways
And I ain't no fool for love songs
That whisper in my ears
Still crazy after all these years
- Paul Simon

Happy Anniversary, Honey.

Renovation Update, With a Little Love

For all of you wondering how the renovation is going, I present to you my new kitchen sink. It is a lovely 18-gauge stainless steel undermount single bowl, with a depth of 10-1/2". I know it doesn't look like an undermount, but that's because the concrete counters haven't been installed/poured yet.


Nice, huh? Mr. Fix has been busy framing out the cabinets with rift-sawn maple (that means its got this cool, wavy shimmer to it) while the rest of us have been smiling at the new appliances. It was a bit strange to look in the refrigerator the first few days we had it, though; we had no food (since I am the only person in the house who knows where the grocery store is. And the laundry hamper. And the recycling bin. I could go on...) and it looked like we just picked up the floor model. Its full now, and everyone is smiling at it even more.

Mr. Fix did, however, take the time to cook us dinner on Saturday night, and cooked it up with an extra bit of love:


Awwww....yummy fingerling potatoes planted by his hands, tended in the garden by his hands, harvested by his hands, and then lovingly cooked by his hands. I ate this one in one big, noisy CHOMP! *giggle*

Hope this starts your week out with a smile!

Greetings, My Fellow Witches!

And a beautiful and Happy All Hallowed Eve to you! Are you going trick-or-treating? I'm going to be working (yes, on a Friday night) on my department's project: "The Trail of Terror!" There is a nature trail that runs behind the school buildings and bus garage and the like, and my boss and other staff members have turned it into a haunted trail. Bonfire, hot chocolate, and hot cider at the end, if you make it out alive...

I wasn't going to post anything about my race last weekend in Cape Cod, because the race itself was kinda shitastic. But I've had time to think about it, and for your reading pleasure (and to help usher in this new season of "giving thanks") I'm posting here my "From The Editor" article from my running club newsletter.

Can you recall the last time you were let down after you allowed yourself to build on the anticipation and excitement of something new? I sure can: my latest marathon adventure. Yep, the one I was sooo excited about because of the key sponsor (Dunkin’ Donuts), and how I’d get donuts at the end of the race. The one where I was going with one sister, one friend-of-sister, two friends, one spouse-of-friend, three children-of-friends, and one mother-of-friend. The one in a beautiful location (Cape Cod). The one where I’d have all of my training come to fruition in the form of a 4:40 finish time.

Well.

I should have suspected things were not going to be as they seemed when The Double Dee lost her ID at the airport in Marquette. No, wait- it dropped into a security bin and she wasn’t allowed to look and try to find it because the gate agents said “We’ve already checked, and its not there.” Liars. By the time we landed in Detroit, the ticket counter had called and said- oh, gee!- they found the ID in a security bin.

Another bad sign? When my sister, Katie texts us “Boston is $*!!@# “ and has to do four laps around the airport before being able to pick us up. Another stick in the spoke of us Midwesterners? Traffic round-abouts.

The hotel (the host hotel, even) had our room ready, but the toilet was leaking, and we had to change rooms. And even though the place needed updated decor and a good hosing down with Febreeze, it was quiet and the shower was hot.

The race expo was small but sufficient. Dunkin’ Donuts had fresh coffee and donuts for runners coming to pick up race bibs and timing chips. It was here that another sign showed up: two of our running posse would not be running. One strained IT band, and one nasty case of plantar fasciitis. An afternoon of shopping up and down Main Street, viewing little cuties in their costumes for the Halloween Parade, and an encounter with a store devoted entirely to cupcakes (Cup Capes of Falmouth) brightened spirits all around.

Saturday night the rain came down in sheets and the area was blanketed with thunder and 60 mph gusts of wind. Sunday morning broke with a light drizzle, 94% humidity, and volunteers and spectators wishing everyone “good luck.” I honestly didn’t think I’d need it.

Fast Jessica started waaaay ahead of us (and finished that way, too, in a fantastic time of 3:36), and then I left Katie and Kimmie at mile two. Things were going great, the rolling hills were really tough, I was hitting every mile right on pace, and then just past mile 17, but before mile 18, my left hip went *ting* and popped like a shoulder impingement. My leg literally buckled, and I had to catch myself. Talk about being caught off guard! I managed to get to mile 18 and the next water stop, but resigned myself to the following pattern: running until the pain came back, walking until it went away. I crossed the finish line in 5:24 a bit sore, a bit tired, and absolutely ready for my donut.

Guess what? No donuts. Nope. As a matter of fact, the finish line area went like this: 1) Cross the finish line. 2) Volunteer places finisher’s medal around your neck and offers congratulations; you smile and say, “Thank you.” 3) Volunteer wraps space blanket around you, while another volunteer removes your timing chip. 4) Walk past a table set up with cups of water and Cytomax, mixed in too weak a solution. 5) The End.

No donuts. No bananas. No oranges. No bagels. No “Six Pack Running Posse.” No 4:40 finish time. How do you salvage such a disaster?

You remember to be thankful for being able to finish (my sister and her friend dropped out at mile 16). You remember to be thankful for having friends to comisserate with afterwards. You remember to be thankful that the rain stopped, and the 65-degree sunshine came out to smile on your shoulders. You remember that you bought two cupcakes yesterday, but only ate one. You remember the mantra: “Any day I can run 26.2 miles is a Good Day.” You remember to be thankful for experiencing something new, even if you’ll never repeat the experience again.

And so the rest of the weekend was uneventful. With that behind me, I can focus on my next marathon adventure and the coming of the new season, Winter. I know that after the rush of anticipation and excitement of these big, new things- and any disappointments along the way- I’ll remember to give thanks for the smaller, more familiar ones.

And there you have it. Have a great weekend, everyone.

Let's Call It Fall

Crisp air, bright flowers with dying-back vegetation, and one week until my marathon can only mean its officially Fall, or if you prefer, Autumn.

Besides making art, gloating over my winning pick for Project Runway , and being busier than all get out at work, I'm considering adding to my proverbial full plate. I am about 80% sure I'll be going to the only craft show I've ever gone to (sponsored by my mother's school/church) to sit and socialize with Katie and Hanukkah, and hopefully make some cash. The show is the weekend before Thanksgiving, which gives me about one month to pull some tricks out of my hat. It may mean taking Fridays off of work for awhile (not a bad idea...). I'm going to play non-committal again and say "We'll see."

Other news? Mr. Fix has finally begun constructing our kitchen cabinets. Yay! I've been told that the base cabinets will be installed this weekend, which means no kitchen sink. That's right: no kitchen sink. I can deal- I'm not really what you'd call a "cook" and have certainly advocated for the exclusive use of Chinet at least once before now.

I've just re-read everything I've just written, and you can't even tell I'm going to kill the dog, can you? I sound normal and upbeat, right? Good. Because I came home from work around noon today to find the #**!@ dog asleep on my new couch. Death is his mistress now. (And lest you be disturbed by the notion of me actually murdering the animal, please note that my husband does not let me near any firearms- or even chainsaws and stuff- and that said animal will be relegated to basement living for the rest of his pathetic days.) Aaaannnnnddddd....onward.

Okay, I feel better now, and my clear mind will make it easier to complete my "fun" work here in my "studio" (just a small room at the back of the house). Start some laundry, turn on the iTunes, and make it work! Carry on! Have a great weekend.

Yay!

The image kinda says it all: Girls Rock!

I am, of course, referring to the newest girl member of my family: Grace Elizabeth, born October 4th and weighing in at a not-too-traumatizing 8 lb. 7 oz. (considering her older brothers came in at 10+ lbs. each) and a respectable 18 1/2" long. Mother is my sister, Sissy and she and hubby Jack have two sons, Jake and Connor. Finally, some estrogen! Congrats! Now I need to start on that cashmere sweater for Grace!...

What else is up? Well, I'm all done with shiva for Paul Newman. He was so fantastic. I am now recovering from a 16 mile run I skipped last week because I was still sick. I'm better now, and I was talking to my friend, Fast Jessica, and thought out loud that training and running for a marathon is a lot like child birth; months of work and preparation, and right at the tail end of things, you ask yourself "Why am I doing this?" and hobble your way through 16-18-20+ mile runs. The reward is, of course, in the final product (baby or finisher's medal...which do you prefer?). And, inevitably you have that bout of selective amnesia and forget all about the pain you went through just moments ago and begin planning your next race. Or child. Whatever.

Project Runway had such a shitastic ending this week. I could just feel the judges wanting so very badly to punch Kenley in the mouth. And honestly, if I had that reach-through television I've been dreaming about, I'd have offered up my ubiquitous Bucket of Bricks to the judges so they could throw them at Kenley, too. Now we just have to wait and see the finale...are we taking bets on winners? I'm gonna go with...Leanne. Just a hunch, and plus, I like her stuff. Honestly, I'll be happy with anyone except Bipolar Kenley (The Doctah pointed out some very interesting similarities between Kenley and people who suffer from bipolar disorder).

Okay peeps, I'm outta here. Have a great week!

What Makes It Okay That Its Monday?

Cubs win! Cubs win! Cubs win! HOLY COW!!! And not only that, but they did it in style! First, Carlos Zambrano comes back and pitches a no-hitter (the first for a Cubs pitcher in 36 years), on Sunday, and then today Ted Lilly made it as far as the 7th inning with his own no-hit bid; although Lilly finally gave up a run, the Cubbies still prevailed over Houston 6-1.

All I know is that I feel like singin' that dang song really loudly..."Go Cubs, goooo! Go Cubs, goooo! Hey Chicago, whaddya say? The Cubs are gonna win today!" Woo hoo! Harry Caray is smiling down on the Windy City Northsiders!

And how was your weekend? Mine was C-O-L-D! Ugh, do I hate the cold weather. See us fire signs (see previous post) don't take kindly to the water or cold- snuffs out our "fire," don'tcha know.

So this week at work, I started my after school program for the kiddies. It serves kids in grades 1-6, and this year (so far) I have 55 little darlings from 3:00-5:00 pm, four days per week. Have you ever tried to fit 55 kids in a regular sized classroom? Let me save you some trouble: you can't do it. At least, not if you want them to be able to work on homework, or an art project, or math drills...So this week will be one of trying out different methods of classroom management. It may involve splitting the kids up into smaller groups, moving around to different areas of the building, who knows? But I'll figure out a way to "make it work!" as Master Guru Gunn says. That is, after all, what I get paid the Big Bucks for! Ha!

What else? Well, Katie finally got her flight and our rental car for our trip to the East Coast ( the Cape Cod Marathon ). If you're in the Boston area on the 27th of October and feel like having lunch with a very nice stranger, let me know and I'll hook you up with Katie- on a platonic level, because she's got this boyfriend named Paolo.

Enough drivel- I'll post again on Thursday, after the fabulousness that is PR happens. Have a great week!

The Sagittarians are on FIRE!

Read carefully the "good" and "bad" of my astrological sign, and file away for future reference. It will help you understand the mysteries of the Sagittarian mind...

Okay, that was complete bullshit. :o)

Kind of a cool challenge this week on Project Runway . I'm not sure that I like when the producers bring back the designers who have already been eliminated from competition, but it sure caused a bit of someone's diva behavior to come on out! (Uh, yeah, that would be Donna Summer and Utah Gay Keith.)

Let's get down to business, shall we?

The Losers: Blayne-licious and his "pooping fabric" design were awful from conception. Stupid Stella certainly didn't help by having such shiteous taste, either. Icky. Kenley's mish-mash monstrosity was so much costume, so not avant garde, I wanted very badly for "reach-through television" to be a reality so I could pound her in the head and call her that word My Favorite Redhead and I are not supposed to say (but we said anyway at Maple Beach!). And gee, her ousted partner, Wesley, was such a lively personality- I wanted to reach through and smack some life into him. (All that ugliness makes me a wee bit aggressive.) Suede and Jerry's Aquarius mess was so boring. That outfit is like the outfits you see on the Butterick 99 cent patterns: Sewing 101. And then Donna Summer (Terri) and Utah Gay Keith's Leo design- strike that, it was all Terri. That was one of those designs that looks great only from very very far away and out of focus. Otherwise you could feel the cheapness of the materials through the television waves. Again, reach-through tv would have come in handy to smack the diva right out of Ms. Summer. Auf to Blayne and Terri.

The Winners: I got that Korto and Kelly used Aquarius for their inspiration, but what were those crepe paper streamer thingies across the bodice? Confusing. Joe and Daniel's dress was very pretty; I loved the fabric that looked like some sort of horse's hide print- and I mean that even though I hate the animals- so "natural" yet so glam. Leanne and Emily's Scorpio was great. I, too (just like Master Guru Gunn), was sold on the exoskeleton idea. And I thought that the way the black came up and over and around the one side to totally cocoon the model's head was right on. And so that leaves us with the big winners: Jerell and Jennifer's super sassy Sagittarius creation. Where do we start? Well, during the work time part of the show, My Favorite Local Celebrity and The Doctah and me all went "Ohhhhhh!" when we saw the shiny fabric with the men's wear skirt. That jacket was to die for. And (always important to me) the finished product/styling/presentation was flawless. He used a twisted arrow as a headpiece! Brilliant (below)!



Hmmmkay...what else is there to write about? Well, Nona Bologna is reportedly visiting tomorrow night, and I think that The Doctah and me will be bringing her to see Daughter #1 play in the marching band. Hey- don't you think that its kinda an obligation for a high school marching band to play "Gonna Fly Now (the theme from "Rocky")?" I DO! I've been lobbying Daughter #1 to get it on the playlist, to no avail. They do, however, play some Cirque du Soleil stuff that only _______ (insert word Red and I are not supposed to say) really like. Sorry, Katie, but its true.

And remember the other day when I posted that the temperature was only 48 degrees? Well, another sure sign of cold weather came to me via US Postal Service: I got my rates guide from Ski Brule . I'm thinking that a long weekend for New Year's Eve would be fun, and am trying to get Brother Peaches and family to get on board.

The Devil is out of town on business, so I'm on my own for running tomorrow. Here's hoping that your weekend starts off as energetically as my own!

Can You Believe No One Made A Wrap Dress?

Above: From Diane Von Furstenberg's Fall 2008 collection.

Time for my weekly Project Runway rant!

Seriously now, Diane VonFurstenberg is known for her wrap dresses, and not a single designer chose to create one for this challenge? Did they think that they'd be chastised for taking an easy route or something? I think a wrap dress would have been a welcome sight, especially after seeing what they DID come up with!

The Losers: Blayne's bloomers were terrible! Most women are curvy and to place the band of those pants right under the knee creates such a definite line- who wants their legs cut off there? His top half was great, though, as was his styling. Jerell's get-up was too much and not enough for me. Too much when put together like he did, and not enough on their own (boring!) to really make a positive impression. Joe took the "Shanghai-ness" a bit too far. Maybe he was still channeling his inner drag queen? Costume-y, poor construction (really, at this point you still can't get your seams to line up? Go back to home ec. class!), and incongruous design elements- blech! And the biggest "lose-ah," Stella: All that fantastic fabric in DVF's studio and all she used was a boring tweed and shiny black leathah stuff? Aside from the fact I'm over her attitude and shizz, the design was not there. Boring trousers, "magician's cape," (HA! That was an awesome comment by the judges!) and that crazy bloused top, which to me looked like a sleeveless polo shirt gone terribly, terribly wrong. As one judge said, "Stella wasn't stellar tonight."

The Winners: Kenley's dress was pretty, and Michael Kors nailed it when he said that she got the "Shanghai" just right. But it was a simple dress, nothing exciting. I think she lost touch of her own style in favor of- her words!- creating something "for sale!" I think she needs to remember that she's the designer, and if her designs are worthy, people will buy them. If she only wants to make clothes "for sale," maybe she can get a job designing for Wal-Mart. Korto's dress and jacket were fantastic. I loved the shock of yellow from under the skirt, but I think it should have been a longer hem. It seemed to me that she ran out of fabric, or forgot that the model was going to be wearing heels. And for my favorite- and the judges, too- Leanne. Two weeks in a row! You go, girl! That dress was magnificent! The color was deep and rich, the draping of the neckline and the sensuous ruffle down the back of the skirt- oh, my! And then to juxtapose the nubby grey jacket with that collar with the gown? W-O-W! See for yourself (below).



So I was left wondering what the next challenge will be? Who were those shadowy figures coming out onto the runway during the previews? My curiosity is piqued!

And now on to other news...The Devil had work to do, and I have an eye appointment, so my tempo run is waiting until 11 am or so. Maybe it'll warm up by then (current temperature? 48 degrees).

Also, Mr. Fix was not one of the 120 or so people arrested in St. Paul Wednesday night; he arrived safe and sound just in time to make dinner for the family. He did, however, spend a considerable amount of time with the bottle of Febreze in the car (oh, those smokers!). Have a great weekend.

I Think Its Really Over

Summer, that is. See the photo above with the pool, smiles, and 90 degree heat? Oh, it was sooooo magnificent! I am an unabashed heat lover, so that kind of weather is just perfect, especially if I have no plans or schedules to keep. That was how I spent a majority of my Labor Day weekend: sans plans. I was, of course, at the annual tradition of Hog Days .

I ran in the 4 mile Hog Days Stampede (36 minutes or so, the new results weren't posted yet), did some bar hopping, and...that's really about it! Usually I watch the parade ( I love a marching band and bagpipes), but I opted to swim instead. Usually I go to the flea market, but I opted to avoid the parking hassle. Usually I get flat-out drrrruuuuunnk at least once, but I opted for moderation this year, which I was especially glad to have done after seeing our newly "adopted" sister, Ashley/Paris, after playing a game called "Edward 40 Hands."

Do you know this game? Well, its a take on the movie "Edward Scissorhands," where Johnny Depp's character has scissors instead of hands. In the game, the scissors are replaced with "40s" of beer; in the case of Ashley/Paris and everyone else who participated, bottles of Boone's Farm were used. Now, here's the tricky part: the bottles are duct taped to your hands until they have been emptied by drinking the contents. The big trick is using the bathroom, I guess. Ashley/Paris (who bears a resemblance to a certain heiress, and shall from this point on be only called by that name) finished her Strawberry Hill in 18 minutes. Sister-in-law Jennifer made her puke it back up and come home for the night. Ah, to be young again!

I chose to stay in that night and play Farkle and then Shanghai Rummy with Sissy, Gack, Salcha, and Chin-ho. Yes, those are nick names, and no, I won't tell you who they really are.

Anyhoo, I returned home Monday and the kids started school on Tuesday, and Wednesday Mr. Fix drove to the Twin Cities to see Rage Against The Machine , playing across the street from the Republican convention. He's not home yet as I type this, nor has he called. He is on strict orders to never call me from jail, as I will not bail him out. So, either he'll show up later tonight, or he won't. Either way I'll post on what we're all eager to talk about: Project Runway !

What Do You Get When You Mix a Bunch of Polish People, Beer, a Ukulele, and a Dunk Tank?

Why, you get my family reunion, of course!


So this weekend was my Kaszynski Family Reunion. The last event took place in 2000 (I did not attend). These people are my maternal grandmother's relatives: everyone who attended is a child or grandchild or great-grandchild of one of the ten children of John and Frances Kaszynski. The photo above shows them all (Back Row: Art Kaszynski, Evelyn Thompson, John Kaszynski, Genevieve Meagher, Ben Kaszynski, Della McPartland, Leonard Kaszynski, Bernadette Heathcoat. Front Row: Gertrude Martinkus, John Kaszynski, Frances Kaszynski, Walter Kaszynski). My mom's mother is Gertrude- aka "Grandma Gert."

There were people there I haven't seen in twenty years or more. And despite what I titled this post, the ukulele was just there for show; when I was a kid, my mom's Uncle Len would play it for all of us kids and sing songs. Music was always a staple at those family gatherings, and this gathering was no exception- Cousin Joy managed to find a keyboard, and a few diferent people took turns playing music. It was a really nice afternoon at Cousin Joy's home that included good food, good conversation, and well-behaved children. I don't think I was annoyed even once by those kids (BIG kudos to Sissy for organizing all the kids' activities!). Maybe I'm mellowing? Nah...

I do need to say that the most amusing parts of the day came when: 1) family members (including- but not limited to- my father, two sisters, and two brothers) wound string tied to wrenches up one person's pant leg and shirt, then down the next person's shirt and pants, then up the next person's...you get the idea. I'm not sure why, either, but it was funny; and 2) Bobby Kaszynski dared four lucky relatives to try dunking him in the dunk tank. Only Brother Peaches was able to take the old timer down. I managed to get a nice picture of Bobby right before he bit it (below).


And what kind of celebration would be complete without cake? We had that, too (see below). Sure it was grocery store marbled, but man, it had some good frosting! Cousin Joy even had the bakery ladies write "Rodzina" on the cake; that means "family" in Polish.


My next big road trip adventure will be to see My Favorite Redhead in lower Michigan, and after that...it's Hog Days, baby!

What? You don't know what is this "Hog Days?" Good gravy, do I have to teach you everything?

Go here to see how I've spent the last 30 Labor Day weekends. I will post more on this as the holiday draws closer, but for now, have a great week.

So Cute They Should Be Illegal

Remember my post, "Bunny?"

Remember how Ms. Eliza Doolittle did so little that her first litter didn't make it at all?

Ms. Doolittle has redeemed herself. Bunny was one of hers; it was one of five babies. The remaining four have been cautiously watched by Daughter #2. Below is the result of the partnership between Ms. Doolittle and Daughter #2 (with some fresh garden greens and plenty of water, too).



Now, who wants a bunny?

And the Addiction Has Kicked In...

Oh friends, it has started. Sweaty palms, ignoring phone calls and email, hell- ignoring family members! Wednesdays at 9:00 pm EST, I'm a goner. The Doctah comes over (and hopefully My Favorite Local Celebrity will, too, now that she's been invited) and we watch- enraptured- and then discuss.

Its Season 5 of Project Runway , bitches!

Okay, so Episode One: I think the judges missed the mark. I liked the winning design, but do you remember Master Guru Gunn's comment during the work time? He warned the designers that they were all using "fabric substitutes" and were not very creative. So the winner has those awful coffee filters on the poor model's breasts and vacuum cleaner bags for the skirt, and those aren't fabric subs?

Easily the most innovative and chic design was Daniel's va-va-voom blue party cup dress. I'll never remember kegger parties the same way again. He was robbed.

Episode Two: Couldn't you just feel for the designers when Master Guru Gunn said the models were going shopping? Oy, I could already see that even with what, a dozen models?, there wasn't enough brain power to get what was needed for one dress, much less all twelve.

I also think that the "green" emphasis was an afterthought. I thought for sure that the judges were going to tear into Stella for her golden monstrosity (below), especially after Nina said "Short and shiny equals trashy." I've put a favorite design of mine from the episode below it for a comparison so you can see which dress should have been in the Top Three. And yes, my opinion means EVERYTHING!!!



That's all on PR for now. Other news? Mr. Fix has returned from a beer-soaked weekend in Minneapolis, soundtrack courtesy of Ween , and another birthday is done. Back to Renovation '08- and now comes The Cabinetry. This, dear ones so concerned with my mental health, will be a separate post.

As for me, I'm in full-on training mode for my fall marathon , even going so far as to make a pact with The Devil to do either tempo runs or speed work once each week. By the way, The Devil is female, blonde, and in the public relations field. She may come across as friendly and fun and a great conversationalist, but those charms are just part of her masquerade. Do not be fooled.

Tomorrow is another local 5K, and Mr. Fix swears he's going blueberry picking. Have a great weekend.

"Its a New Recipe."

This entry is supposed to be included in a family reunion cookbook that my sister, Katie, is putting together for the August shindig. Being the picky eater that I am, you must understand that I would never steer you wrong on white trash goodness. Honestly, any recipe that starts with "1 lb. ground beef" and is cooked in a 9 x 13 pan can't be all bad. I dare you to try this.

Growing up in a family of nine children, those were the most dreaded words we could hear from our mother when one of us asked, "What's for supper?" It took a special skill set to feed that large of a family, and my mom was always one to give a new recipe a try, especially if the first ingredient listed was "1 lb. ground beef."

My husband, Mr. Fix, and I only have two daughters, so a compendium of meals featuring hamburger is not really necessary. Factor in that I'm a vegetarian, and suffice it to say that any meal from my childhood better be adaptable and damn delicious.

This one makes the cut. I've adapted it a bit from the original recipe (which I'm sure came from an issue of Better Homes and Gardens or Woman's Day), but the idea is the same: a delicious, quick, one-serving-dish meal. Enjoy!

Tato Taco Casserole
1 lb. ground beef, turkey, or veggie crumbles cooked with taco seasoning
1 can black beans or pinto beans, drained and rinsed
3 c. instant mashed potatoes
1 c. water
16 oz. sour cream
1 c. chopped green onions
2 c. shredded cheddar cheese
approximately 1 to 1 -1/2 c. of shredded salad greens, diced tomatoes, chopped green peppers, sliced black olives (optional), diced jalapeno peppers
2 c. crushed corn chips

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.
Prepare you meat or meat-alternative as directed for the taco seasoning packet (if you make your own taco seasoning, good for you, but the stuff in the packet is just fine. I swear.) Add the beans to the seasoned meat and set aside.
Spray the bottom and sides of a 9 x 13 baking dish with cooking spray. In a separate bowl, combine the instant potatoes, water, green onions, and sour cream. (The original recipe only called for half of these ingredients' amounts; we like it doubled up as it makes for a heartier dish.) Press this mixture into the bottom of your baking dish, and bake for approximately 20 minutes, or until the edges begin to brown.
Remove the dish from the oven, spread the meat & bean mixture over the potatoes, and sprinkle the cheese on top. Return to the oven for an additional 5-8 minutes, or until the cheese is melted.
Remove from the oven and top with corn chips, lettuce, tomatoes, etc. Serve it up with a smile. Just like their mother before them, our daughters (photo below) Daughter #1 (left) and Daughter #2 love this dish. We even call my sister, Katie, when we're making it, just to rub it in.

Bunny

I came home from work on Monday and found Daughter #2 looking at the grass very, very closely. The picture above is what she found: Bunny.

We looked around for the nest with no luck. We figured that a wild bunny (not one of the three we keep in pens as pets) was moving the baby from one spot to the next, got startled, and dropped this creature. Daughter #2 was warned not to touch it too much in case Mama Bunny returned, but no sooner had I gone in the house when I looked out the window and she had Bunny in her hands, gently stroking its tiny body with her finger.

When Mr. Fix got home, I let him handle the situation (he is the animal lover of the two of us). It was decided that Mama Bunny wasn't coming back, and Daughter #2 could bring Bunny inside, kept warm in a shoebox lined with dried grass and soft cotton balls. Bunny was fed lukewarm milk through a medicine dropper. Daughter #2 knew from the outset that Bunny surviving was a long shot, but she insisted she'd like to try to take care of things.

Monday night brought severe thunderstorms with horrible sheets of rain. Poor Bunny would never have survived the night. Tuesday morning, and Bunny was still breathing, still taking milk by the dropper-full every hour or so. Tuesday when I returned home from work, Bunny was still hanging tough.

Today I stopped home on my way to Marquette for work, and yes, Bunny was still okay. Daughter #2 was very cautious and gentle with Bunny, not handling too much except for feedings.

On my way back from Marquette, I called home to check in, and Mr. Fix informed me that Bunny was gone. *sniff* Daughter #2 was understandably sad and took to bed to sort things out. Mr. Fix buried Bunny in the back garden.

Upon further investigation, Mr. Fix found out that one of our rabbits, Eliza Doolittle, had babies, and that Bunny was probably one of hers that had been dropped through the bottom of the cage. We suspect the dog, F*#!@ Jackson, picked up the fallen Bunny with his soft mouth, and dropped it by Daughter #2's feet. For the record, this is Eliza's second litter, and she doesn't know a damn thing. None of her babies have survived as she basically ignores them. Doolittle, indeed.

Cue Sir Elton's "Circle of Life"...have a great week.