Today at lunch, I ate something simple out of the fridge at work. This is likely to be a dangerous adventure but not for the reasons I experienced today. Today Paula was the gutsy one, eating leftover cold pizza from last Thursday. I opted for my frozen Amy's organic burrito and a yogurt.
i promise I thawed the burrito... I really did. But by the time lunch was over, I had a small chip out of one of my front teeth. It was very sharp and threatened my tongue. My tongue seemed intrigued and wouldn't stay away.
Then I remembered that about 2 weeks ago we went to a wine tasting. The host introduced us to a new DO here in town whose wife is a dentist. So, I started calling around until I found her. She fixed my tooth straightaway and suggested I send her some patients in return.
Thank you
************ ************* ************* ************* **************
I woke up this morning with the electric blanket still on from last night. How fitting that yesterday ended in an 18 below chill.
I realized that I get to wake up and go to work. My world goes on as before. Not so for some others in the neighborhood. I feel for them. But I have to remember to feel what is mine to feel. I send them love, peace, and warmth. It seems like so little but it is what I have to give.
************ *********** ************ ************* *************
My computer at work got renamed today. It got named "Sparky." Unfortunately, that also means the my computer at work doesn't work any more. It'll be a week or so before I get a new one.
All I know is it's a bad thing when you let the smoke out.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Cold
White smoke curling against ashen skies
dirty snow ground into dark asphalt
a running man
in leaden sweats
heaves his way across a steel bridge
Color
has drained from this icy world
with dawn bringing bad news
even the holy ground
is too frozen to bury the dead
The living heap their grief
like fuel
on some cold fire
and shed steaming tears
that disappear into dust
I run away
to return only
when night has blanketed the world
in forgiving darkness
the yellow light of windows
giving the illusion of heat
Silouettes of comfort
talking
against the back drop of artificial light
there is nothing we can do
to heal hearts cracked wide by loss
except to hold their name in warmth
I would gather those I love
close to me
more for peace than protection
and touch them with hope
that there will always be tomorrow
LB
12/13/08
dirty snow ground into dark asphalt
a running man
in leaden sweats
heaves his way across a steel bridge
Color
has drained from this icy world
with dawn bringing bad news
even the holy ground
is too frozen to bury the dead
The living heap their grief
like fuel
on some cold fire
and shed steaming tears
that disappear into dust
I run away
to return only
when night has blanketed the world
in forgiving darkness
the yellow light of windows
giving the illusion of heat
Silouettes of comfort
talking
against the back drop of artificial light
there is nothing we can do
to heal hearts cracked wide by loss
except to hold their name in warmth
I would gather those I love
close to me
more for peace than protection
and touch them with hope
that there will always be tomorrow
LB
12/13/08
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The Bottom Line
The bottom line has sunk nearly all the way to hell. The balance sheet is decidedly unbalanced. And I feel like I'm spinning my wheels and making a trench in the mud.
A few years back, Reverend Lawrence did a series of seminars on Abundance. I wish I had those sermons to listen to now. He talked at length about the perception of "lack." I'm feeling kind of stuck there now.
I don't have any real lack... just this anticipation and sense that it's hovering around me like a buzzard waiting to pounce on the carrion of my budget.
I have a house. I can pay the heating bill. I have a wonderful man who loves me. There is always food to put on the table. My ski pass is already paid for, it costs nothing to go play save a bit of money for gas and those prices have bottomed out nicely.
So what's my problem?
I've been paid a bit more than I actually earned and am looking at paying my employer for the last month of the year. My income is about 1/2 what it was 2 years ago. I'm being asked to buy into the practice at a price that will nearly equal our house payment each month. And today, I had so few patients that my Medical Assistant made more money at her pathetic hourly rate than I did. My schedule for tomorrow is equally abysmal and Thursday I have no patients at all.
So now what? How do I get myself out of dwelling on that and remembering all of the wonderful abundance in my life? Maybe it's time to think about or get in touch with those who really do have a lot of lack... to donate my money and time at the local shelter. I miss my work with the homeless... it kept me grounded and in balance. But there is no work to be done with them up here. So maybe I should go serve meals... I can't care for them in the way I'm used to but perhaps I can spread a little caring in a different way. And be reminded what real lack looks like.
A few years back, Reverend Lawrence did a series of seminars on Abundance. I wish I had those sermons to listen to now. He talked at length about the perception of "lack." I'm feeling kind of stuck there now.
I don't have any real lack... just this anticipation and sense that it's hovering around me like a buzzard waiting to pounce on the carrion of my budget.
I have a house. I can pay the heating bill. I have a wonderful man who loves me. There is always food to put on the table. My ski pass is already paid for, it costs nothing to go play save a bit of money for gas and those prices have bottomed out nicely.
So what's my problem?
I've been paid a bit more than I actually earned and am looking at paying my employer for the last month of the year. My income is about 1/2 what it was 2 years ago. I'm being asked to buy into the practice at a price that will nearly equal our house payment each month. And today, I had so few patients that my Medical Assistant made more money at her pathetic hourly rate than I did. My schedule for tomorrow is equally abysmal and Thursday I have no patients at all.
So now what? How do I get myself out of dwelling on that and remembering all of the wonderful abundance in my life? Maybe it's time to think about or get in touch with those who really do have a lot of lack... to donate my money and time at the local shelter. I miss my work with the homeless... it kept me grounded and in balance. But there is no work to be done with them up here. So maybe I should go serve meals... I can't care for them in the way I'm used to but perhaps I can spread a little caring in a different way. And be reminded what real lack looks like.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Winter Wondering Land
I remember the first snow
a few years ago
looking back
down the hill
in morning twilight
to see my footprints
paralled by Harley’s tracks
This morning
I went back to bed
rather than run alone
or dig out for the slick drive to the pool.
No cold nose
pushed me from my excuses
I dreamt last night
of another running friend
Some days, I’m amazed
how much he is on my mind
You don’t really know
what a difference the presence of another makes
until they are no longer present
Snow
will keep all but the sickest away
And I will get to sneak out early
to put on the running shoes
that are on ice in my car
Cold numbs me
to how bad they are itching
for a run
My missing friends
will join me in spirit
and I wonder
if I look sideways over my shoulder
how many sets of prints
I will see
LB 12/4/08
With loving memories of Red Spicer and Harley Bean
a few years ago
looking back
down the hill
in morning twilight
to see my footprints
paralled by Harley’s tracks
This morning
I went back to bed
rather than run alone
or dig out for the slick drive to the pool.
No cold nose
pushed me from my excuses
I dreamt last night
of another running friend
Some days, I’m amazed
how much he is on my mind
You don’t really know
what a difference the presence of another makes
until they are no longer present
Snow
will keep all but the sickest away
And I will get to sneak out early
to put on the running shoes
that are on ice in my car
Cold numbs me
to how bad they are itching
for a run
My missing friends
will join me in spirit
and I wonder
if I look sideways over my shoulder
how many sets of prints
I will see
LB 12/4/08
With loving memories of Red Spicer and Harley Bean
Random Thots
Today was our first real snow here in Fort Collins. I woke up to go to the gym and saw a couple inches on everything. I went back to bed rather than shovel snow at 5 a.m. to go get into a pool.
I woke up again at 7 and had to rush to leave for work. AT the last minute I was frantically shovelling 6 inches of snow and sweeping it off my car.
Snow makes our little off-white/gray house look even more drab. When we redecorate the outside we'll have to go with a more jazzy color. The front porch looks like a layer cake to me. It's treacherous in good weather. I'm not sure it's safe in this stuff.
Let Them Eat... Hot Chocolate
So there's a recession on, is there? Well, you wouldn't know it looking at the Williams Sonoma catalog. They have a Hot Chocolate Machine in there for $99. I have a hot chocolate machine. It's called a spoon. You put it in the mug with the ingredients and stir. If I wanna get fancy, I can use a whisk. Either of these can be bought used for less than a buck.
I woke up again at 7 and had to rush to leave for work. AT the last minute I was frantically shovelling 6 inches of snow and sweeping it off my car.
Snow makes our little off-white/gray house look even more drab. When we redecorate the outside we'll have to go with a more jazzy color. The front porch looks like a layer cake to me. It's treacherous in good weather. I'm not sure it's safe in this stuff.
Let Them Eat... Hot Chocolate
So there's a recession on, is there? Well, you wouldn't know it looking at the Williams Sonoma catalog. They have a Hot Chocolate Machine in there for $99. I have a hot chocolate machine. It's called a spoon. You put it in the mug with the ingredients and stir. If I wanna get fancy, I can use a whisk. Either of these can be bought used for less than a buck.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
I am thankful for Plenty
If I Should Die Before I Wake
Seriously! If something ever happens to Guy and Me, please, send someone right away to empty the fridge and freezer directly into some soup kitchen! None of this should go to waste. I have the phrase, “Because I come from the land of plenty” stuck in my head. Maybe because I just heard Collin Hay of Men without Hats on the radio yesterday or maybe because that’s what my fridge looks like.
THIS! This is not cleanup from Thanksgiving dinner! This is cleanup from the leftovers!
We have a fridge stocked to the gills for lunches and dinners this week. And the freezer is full too (well, ok, 90% is roasted green chiles but you get the point).
One of these days I really do need to cook for a shelter.
Another thought for the day… If you want to make people happy, learn to tell a joke or buy a really good stock pot!
Turkey noodle soup
Leftover thanksgiving meals
Red lentil curry with swiss chard
Apple sauce (home made)
Janet’s cranberry and orange sauce
Turkey for sandwiches
Anyone goes hungry in this house, it’s their own fault!
Seriously! If something ever happens to Guy and Me, please, send someone right away to empty the fridge and freezer directly into some soup kitchen! None of this should go to waste. I have the phrase, “Because I come from the land of plenty” stuck in my head. Maybe because I just heard Collin Hay of Men without Hats on the radio yesterday or maybe because that’s what my fridge looks like.
THIS! This is not cleanup from Thanksgiving dinner! This is cleanup from the leftovers!
We have a fridge stocked to the gills for lunches and dinners this week. And the freezer is full too (well, ok, 90% is roasted green chiles but you get the point).
One of these days I really do need to cook for a shelter.
Another thought for the day… If you want to make people happy, learn to tell a joke or buy a really good stock pot!
Turkey noodle soup
Leftover thanksgiving meals
Red lentil curry with swiss chard
Apple sauce (home made)
Janet’s cranberry and orange sauce
Turkey for sandwiches
Anyone goes hungry in this house, it’s their own fault!
Thanksgiving without the pictures
Menu:
Oven Roasted Turkey seasoned with drywall dust
Joint compound and roasted garlic mashers
Blown in insulation stuffing
Hard hat brussels sprouts
# 10 Molly Asparagus
There is nothing like preparing Thanksgiving dinner (even 2 days late) in a construction zone. It gives the meal a flavor all its own.
Guy was working at his usual frantic pace to get the kitchen in working order, once again, so I could cook Thanksgiving dinner. I ran (literally) to Ace Hardware to get him parts they didn’t have. So I went to Home Depot and dragged our neighbor Janet along while we picked up her
long lost wallet.
When I arrived home, it was
time for the turkey to be in the
oven. The construction was still under way. I began preparing the stuffing in the dining room until there was enough room amidst the construction supplies on the kitchen counter.
I had brined the turkey in a cooler in the upstairs bath tub. After all, we have squirrels that could easily open the cooler and cart off a whole turkey, so I couldn’t put the cooler outside. No telling what’s living in the garage. And we don’t use the bath tub anyway since there are no walls around it. After the turkey had it’s bath, it rested in a roasting pan behind the ladder until I had room on the counter.
Eventually the soffet was built, spackles, and the defects in the wall were repaired. The pot rack was hung and the wiring to the plug beside the stove as well as a light switch to the lights over the sink. The kitchen was ready for cooking. 1 ½ hrs late so the cooking plan was changed to the high temp version.
Next the dining room was
cleaned and made ready.
As Guy was finishing rewiring the downstairs bathroom… just because he hadn’t done enough in the early part of the day, the guests arrived.
Alexis came up from Denver. Janet came from next door and brought Peaches, Sonny, and Buster to help clean the floor. Fortunately, I’d removed any construction by products that might harm them and left the floor clean enough to eat from.
Peaches, Sonny, and Buster are clearly neglected and on the verge of abused. It is obvious that Janet never feeds them and they are so love starved… At least that’s what they’d have you believe.
Sonny is normally afraid of Guy. He will occasionally come to Guy if he lies on the floor. But, if he also gives a few snitches of
turkey, it’s a whole different story.
Nothing like a holiday weekend to get a few things done.
Kill count:
2 Thanksgiving dinners eaten (each)
1 compost bin
5 GFI outlets installed
1 light switch installed
1 set track lighting now working
1 soffet installed around wires and gas line in kitchen
1 kitchen wall spackled
1 light fixture rewired
2 ceiling tiles replaced
1 closet painted
1 turkey roasted
1 Furnace rewired
1 Laundry room rewired
1 pot rack bought and hung
1 overhead light rewired
1 roman shade for bedroom and valence made
1 duvet cover made
1 sink repaired
4 trips to Home Depot
1 trip to Ace Hardware
1 garbage disposal rewired
Oh, and there’s another day left!
Oven Roasted Turkey seasoned with drywall dust
Joint compound and roasted garlic mashers
Blown in insulation stuffing
Hard hat brussels sprouts
# 10 Molly Asparagus
There is nothing like preparing Thanksgiving dinner (even 2 days late) in a construction zone. It gives the meal a flavor all its own.
Guy was working at his usual frantic pace to get the kitchen in working order, once again, so I could cook Thanksgiving dinner. I ran (literally) to Ace Hardware to get him parts they didn’t have. So I went to Home Depot and dragged our neighbor Janet along while we picked up her
long lost wallet.
When I arrived home, it was
time for the turkey to be in the
oven. The construction was still under way. I began preparing the stuffing in the dining room until there was enough room amidst the construction supplies on the kitchen counter.
I had brined the turkey in a cooler in the upstairs bath tub. After all, we have squirrels that could easily open the cooler and cart off a whole turkey, so I couldn’t put the cooler outside. No telling what’s living in the garage. And we don’t use the bath tub anyway since there are no walls around it. After the turkey had it’s bath, it rested in a roasting pan behind the ladder until I had room on the counter.
Eventually the soffet was built, spackles, and the defects in the wall were repaired. The pot rack was hung and the wiring to the plug beside the stove as well as a light switch to the lights over the sink. The kitchen was ready for cooking. 1 ½ hrs late so the cooking plan was changed to the high temp version.
Next the dining room was
cleaned and made ready.
As Guy was finishing rewiring the downstairs bathroom… just because he hadn’t done enough in the early part of the day, the guests arrived.
Alexis came up from Denver. Janet came from next door and brought Peaches, Sonny, and Buster to help clean the floor. Fortunately, I’d removed any construction by products that might harm them and left the floor clean enough to eat from.
Peaches, Sonny, and Buster are clearly neglected and on the verge of abused. It is obvious that Janet never feeds them and they are so love starved… At least that’s what they’d have you believe.
Sonny is normally afraid of Guy. He will occasionally come to Guy if he lies on the floor. But, if he also gives a few snitches of
turkey, it’s a whole different story.
Nothing like a holiday weekend to get a few things done.
Kill count:
2 Thanksgiving dinners eaten (each)
1 compost bin
5 GFI outlets installed
1 light switch installed
1 set track lighting now working
1 soffet installed around wires and gas line in kitchen
1 kitchen wall spackled
1 light fixture rewired
2 ceiling tiles replaced
1 closet painted
1 turkey roasted
1 Furnace rewired
1 Laundry room rewired
1 pot rack bought and hung
1 overhead light rewired
1 roman shade for bedroom and valence made
1 duvet cover made
1 sink repaired
4 trips to Home Depot
1 trip to Ace Hardware
1 garbage disposal rewired
Oh, and there’s another day left!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Gr-Attitude
Winter is nigh upon us
and the wind whistles at the door
as if to say
cold!
cold!
stay in where it's warm
Only the brave and foolish venture out
the rest of us
huddle behind steamy cups
and under fleecy hats
We are called to come play
to warm ourselves
by the fire within our spirit
and the friction
of sinew against bone
We are taunted by the crisp light
of stars
brighter against the blackness of cold
and the crunch and clatter of leaves
skittering across the trail
When we overcome the fatness of comfort
and layer ourselves into our shoes
the giddy ground rises and falls beneath us
pulling us onward
toward adventure
Tomorrow the trail may be hidden in snow
The rocks may be iced with treachery
But there will be another chance to run
away from winter
and another reason
for thanks giving
Lisa B
11/25/08
and the wind whistles at the door
as if to say
cold!
cold!
stay in where it's warm
Only the brave and foolish venture out
the rest of us
huddle behind steamy cups
and under fleecy hats
We are called to come play
to warm ourselves
by the fire within our spirit
and the friction
of sinew against bone
We are taunted by the crisp light
of stars
brighter against the blackness of cold
and the crunch and clatter of leaves
skittering across the trail
When we overcome the fatness of comfort
and layer ourselves into our shoes
the giddy ground rises and falls beneath us
pulling us onward
toward adventure
Tomorrow the trail may be hidden in snow
The rocks may be iced with treachery
But there will be another chance to run
away from winter
and another reason
for thanks giving
Lisa B
11/25/08
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Jerk Stew another weekend in paradise
Last week was a busy one, what with the State Board Meeting and all. I spent two nights and two days in Denver so we decided to take a break this weekend. Haaaa Haaaa hah! Now that I’m done laughing…
We did take a break Friday night. Seems it was Matt Quinlan’s birthday so we went out to celebrate. Unfortunately, my Car-ma wasn’t up to snuff and I got stuck in traffic. Made it to O’Dell’s brewery about 20 minutes before closing in plenty of time for a cold one. That lunchtime salad wasn’t enough food for the day so I let Guy drive to dinner. Better, after a pile of heavy Mexican food, we drove home to drop off a car and ended up staying home after Guy imploded from his busy week (including coming to see me for dinner in Denver… but that’s another story).
Saturday started with business as usual… an early trip to Home Depot. Several errands later and the work began. The forecast for Sunday had looked wintry early in the week but they had changed it. Nonetheless, winterizing was on the list. I planted the herbs I’d bought for the cold frame (Thai Basil, oregano, parsley, sage) and Guy raked leaves. I set up a basement paint shop and proceeded to start painting the frames for the screens that fit the windows and the shelves for the closet. I got a good start before stopping to make pizzas before we were scheduled to go to the final show for the band 12 Cents for Marvin.
Oops… no oven. So we grilled the pizzas and they were fab! The mozzerella was naughty… Then it was my turn to implode. The week and the day caught up with me. It was a slow bike ride to the concert but the music was good once it started. We came home early but it will still be an early night tonight!
Sunday started much the way Saturday had… a trip to Home Depot. Then I got back into the painting and Guy got into the attic. He was working, among other things, on hooking up the stove so that he can have a turkey for Thanksgiving. Seems a bit like canabalizm to me to eat one of your own… but who am I to judge.
After many new words were invented and much painting was done, I finally heard Guy bellow “Woman, get into the kitchen and cook me some food.” Something about the manly art of wiring that makes someone who is normally rational bellow about obedience… ;-) No doubt my Mom and Dad could have clued him in to a realistic idea about me and the concept of obedience… But, I gamely went to the kitchen to enjoy my new stove/oven and cook him an appropriately fine batch of, none other than, Jerk Stew. No, no! I really mean that, Jerked Chicken as a stew (recipe to follow). It wasn’t nearly done by the time he went to Hockey but it will be ready to eat tomorrow and, best I can tell, will be a “do-over”… meaning that it will be made again… until I get it exactly right.
As should be obvious by now, this is totally in jest, except that Guy did get the oven working and I did make Jerk stew. While I am certain that Guy is perfectly capable of being a Jerk, I’ve never seen it… and while I’m sure I’m perfectly capable of being obedient, nobody has, or will, ever see it.
Tally for the weekend:
Trips to Home depot 2
Ovens connected 1
Track lighting installed 1
Loads of Laundry 4
Screens painted 4
Indoor Storms Made 10 (remember these from College?)
Herbs Planted 6
Leaves Raked tens of thousands
Thermostats installed 2
Pizzas made 4
Jerk Stew 1
Freezer Soup made 1
Jerked Chicken Stew Recipe
2 # chicken breasts or tenders, chopped into large bites
Jerk Seasoning (one batch or one jar if premade)
2 T Jump Up and Kiss Me (or other) Habanero Hot sauce
1 Butternut Squash, diced large
1 small bag baby carrots
1 (chernobyl aka extra super large) onion, diced large
2 Red bell peppers, chopped
2 green bell peppers, chopped
6 + cups chicken stock
Shrimp (optional if you want to share with a non-chicken eating person)
1-2 mangos diced
Marinate chicken in Jerk Seasoning and Habanero hot sauce for several hours to days. Saute onion in a bit of oil until beginning to be translucent (you can even caramelize if Guy’s not eating it). Add Chicken and brown. Pour in Stock and bring to a boil for 15 + minutes. Add squash and carrots and cook ½ hour. Add bell peppers, shrimp if desired, and cook another 15 minutes. Stir in mango before serving. Serve with rice.
We did take a break Friday night. Seems it was Matt Quinlan’s birthday so we went out to celebrate. Unfortunately, my Car-ma wasn’t up to snuff and I got stuck in traffic. Made it to O’Dell’s brewery about 20 minutes before closing in plenty of time for a cold one. That lunchtime salad wasn’t enough food for the day so I let Guy drive to dinner. Better, after a pile of heavy Mexican food, we drove home to drop off a car and ended up staying home after Guy imploded from his busy week (including coming to see me for dinner in Denver… but that’s another story).
Saturday started with business as usual… an early trip to Home Depot. Several errands later and the work began. The forecast for Sunday had looked wintry early in the week but they had changed it. Nonetheless, winterizing was on the list. I planted the herbs I’d bought for the cold frame (Thai Basil, oregano, parsley, sage) and Guy raked leaves. I set up a basement paint shop and proceeded to start painting the frames for the screens that fit the windows and the shelves for the closet. I got a good start before stopping to make pizzas before we were scheduled to go to the final show for the band 12 Cents for Marvin.
Oops… no oven. So we grilled the pizzas and they were fab! The mozzerella was naughty… Then it was my turn to implode. The week and the day caught up with me. It was a slow bike ride to the concert but the music was good once it started. We came home early but it will still be an early night tonight!
Sunday started much the way Saturday had… a trip to Home Depot. Then I got back into the painting and Guy got into the attic. He was working, among other things, on hooking up the stove so that he can have a turkey for Thanksgiving. Seems a bit like canabalizm to me to eat one of your own… but who am I to judge.
After many new words were invented and much painting was done, I finally heard Guy bellow “Woman, get into the kitchen and cook me some food.” Something about the manly art of wiring that makes someone who is normally rational bellow about obedience… ;-) No doubt my Mom and Dad could have clued him in to a realistic idea about me and the concept of obedience… But, I gamely went to the kitchen to enjoy my new stove/oven and cook him an appropriately fine batch of, none other than, Jerk Stew. No, no! I really mean that, Jerked Chicken as a stew (recipe to follow). It wasn’t nearly done by the time he went to Hockey but it will be ready to eat tomorrow and, best I can tell, will be a “do-over”… meaning that it will be made again… until I get it exactly right.
As should be obvious by now, this is totally in jest, except that Guy did get the oven working and I did make Jerk stew. While I am certain that Guy is perfectly capable of being a Jerk, I’ve never seen it… and while I’m sure I’m perfectly capable of being obedient, nobody has, or will, ever see it.
Tally for the weekend:
Trips to Home depot 2
Ovens connected 1
Track lighting installed 1
Loads of Laundry 4
Screens painted 4
Indoor Storms Made 10 (remember these from College?)
Herbs Planted 6
Leaves Raked tens of thousands
Thermostats installed 2
Pizzas made 4
Jerk Stew 1
Freezer Soup made 1
Jerked Chicken Stew Recipe
2 # chicken breasts or tenders, chopped into large bites
Jerk Seasoning (one batch or one jar if premade)
2 T Jump Up and Kiss Me (or other) Habanero Hot sauce
1 Butternut Squash, diced large
1 small bag baby carrots
1 (chernobyl aka extra super large) onion, diced large
2 Red bell peppers, chopped
2 green bell peppers, chopped
6 + cups chicken stock
Shrimp (optional if you want to share with a non-chicken eating person)
1-2 mangos diced
Marinate chicken in Jerk Seasoning and Habanero hot sauce for several hours to days. Saute onion in a bit of oil until beginning to be translucent (you can even caramelize if Guy’s not eating it). Add Chicken and brown. Pour in Stock and bring to a boil for 15 + minutes. Add squash and carrots and cook ½ hour. Add bell peppers, shrimp if desired, and cook another 15 minutes. Stir in mango before serving. Serve with rice.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Food and Love
My two favorite days of the year always happen within a week of each other. This is the week.
First is my Birthday. What makes it my favorite is that I get phone calls and emails from all the people who love me. I can think of nothing that makes me happier than talking to most, if not all, of the people I love so much in one day. What day could be better than that?!
Second is Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is all about truly enjoying everything you have and really wallowing in how good your life is. Some people call that gratitude... I like the visual of wallowing in all that good feeling. Thanksgiving is all about good food and good friends. What a fabulous combo.
My Birthday was Thursday of this week. I was in Denver for a meeting. Guy came down for my Birthday and we went to dinner. We decided to try a restaurant some friends had tried to take him to for years. When we got there, we were lucky enough to get a table. Then the owner/hostess told us they'd only been open a week. The other restaurant outgrew the space and moved to a trendy location in LoDo (Lower Downtown). She had opened one of my other fave Denver spots (Table 6) for someone else and opened this one for herself.
The menu was cryptic. Had I read it on the window outdoors, I'd have moved on down the road. But when explained, the menu at Venue sounded FAB!
Guy ordered a dish that simply read:
Flat Iron
chanterelle mushrooms, pearl onions, celery root
It was a shoulder cut of beef called a "flat iron" seared medium rare (to the rare side) on a bed of green beans, tomatos, caramelized pearl onions, and chanterelle mushrooms on top of celery root puree. It was outstanding and v.savory.
I had the special, a salmon fillet on a leek reduction (leeks cooked down with broth) with frisee on top.
The appetizer was a large plate of mussels steamed in a wine sauce with caramelized fennel, french tarragon, and tomatoes with the liquid poured over crusty bread.
Dessert was creme brulee over preserved cherries... we considered it Michigan Creme Brulee.
Ahhhh!
Birthdays are to be savored.
First is my Birthday. What makes it my favorite is that I get phone calls and emails from all the people who love me. I can think of nothing that makes me happier than talking to most, if not all, of the people I love so much in one day. What day could be better than that?!
Second is Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is all about truly enjoying everything you have and really wallowing in how good your life is. Some people call that gratitude... I like the visual of wallowing in all that good feeling. Thanksgiving is all about good food and good friends. What a fabulous combo.
My Birthday was Thursday of this week. I was in Denver for a meeting. Guy came down for my Birthday and we went to dinner. We decided to try a restaurant some friends had tried to take him to for years. When we got there, we were lucky enough to get a table. Then the owner/hostess told us they'd only been open a week. The other restaurant outgrew the space and moved to a trendy location in LoDo (Lower Downtown). She had opened one of my other fave Denver spots (Table 6) for someone else and opened this one for herself.
The menu was cryptic. Had I read it on the window outdoors, I'd have moved on down the road. But when explained, the menu at Venue sounded FAB!
Guy ordered a dish that simply read:
Flat Iron
chanterelle mushrooms, pearl onions, celery root
It was a shoulder cut of beef called a "flat iron" seared medium rare (to the rare side) on a bed of green beans, tomatos, caramelized pearl onions, and chanterelle mushrooms on top of celery root puree. It was outstanding and v.savory.
I had the special, a salmon fillet on a leek reduction (leeks cooked down with broth) with frisee on top.
The appetizer was a large plate of mussels steamed in a wine sauce with caramelized fennel, french tarragon, and tomatoes with the liquid poured over crusty bread.
Dessert was creme brulee over preserved cherries... we considered it Michigan Creme Brulee.
Ahhhh!
Birthdays are to be savored.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Book Worm
It's that time of the month again... that time when I get a little crabby and barely leave the sofa. No, not THAT time of the month, the reading time. Once a month I have a meeting that involves a lot of preparation. Volumes of reading... to the tune of 2000+ pages this month.
The first "packet" included a 600 page packet and a 1260 pg packet. Just as I was finishing the last couple hundred, another package arrived via UPS with another 360 pages. Ouch!
So, the Bean Cycle gets another night of me being parked on their sofa.
So last night, I noticed there was a new display of art work. It looked like a high school art class did a lot of india ink drawings. There were numerous distorted faces and a few animals. One pretty good cat was in the middle. The sofas were taken so I grabbed a worn out chair in the "pit" grouping in the middle of the place. I dug out my materials and then sat back an looked at the "art" work.
Just in front of me, in all its "glory" was the very hairy rear end of a man from the waist down and it was obvious that in front of him was a woman... you get the idea. I was shocked, to say the least. The next picture was a bunch of nudies around a cat in a cage. And a 3rd "colorful shower" so to speak. Suddenly I suspected it wasn't a high school art class. Weird.
I'm not sure if that put me in the right frame of mind for my reading but it was an amusing moment. I think I'll go to Everyday Joe's not-for-profit coffee bar tonight to read after my run. It's safer there. I'm skipping 2 for 1 burgers (veggie too) and $2 microbrew pints at the Trailhead to read this other packet. Sheesh! I'm dedicated.
The first "packet" included a 600 page packet and a 1260 pg packet. Just as I was finishing the last couple hundred, another package arrived via UPS with another 360 pages. Ouch!
So, the Bean Cycle gets another night of me being parked on their sofa.
So last night, I noticed there was a new display of art work. It looked like a high school art class did a lot of india ink drawings. There were numerous distorted faces and a few animals. One pretty good cat was in the middle. The sofas were taken so I grabbed a worn out chair in the "pit" grouping in the middle of the place. I dug out my materials and then sat back an looked at the "art" work.
Just in front of me, in all its "glory" was the very hairy rear end of a man from the waist down and it was obvious that in front of him was a woman... you get the idea. I was shocked, to say the least. The next picture was a bunch of nudies around a cat in a cage. And a 3rd "colorful shower" so to speak. Suddenly I suspected it wasn't a high school art class. Weird.
I'm not sure if that put me in the right frame of mind for my reading but it was an amusing moment. I think I'll go to Everyday Joe's not-for-profit coffee bar tonight to read after my run. It's safer there. I'm skipping 2 for 1 burgers (veggie too) and $2 microbrew pints at the Trailhead to read this other packet. Sheesh! I'm dedicated.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Snippets and Fragments
Declining Dollars
I just bought a used book for $3.20 that cost $1.50 in 1975. The original price is clearly marked on the cover. The clerk at The Matter Bookstore said "that must have been when the dollar was worth a lot more." He wasn't even born in 1975.
I've bought several copies of this book as gifts. All of them cost about $6 at major bookstores. This one is a gift for Bethany. It will be worth every penny.
*********** ************ ************
Chasing the chill with new friends
Nights grow long and deep
Cold rattles in the branches
not yet muffled by snow
balanced by the warmth of tiny white lights
Clouds bloom on the rooftop across the street
and the wind
chases the stubborn leaves from the branches
to gather at the door, begging to be let in
I would run away
but for this bag on my shoulder
hanging heavy with work
and projects collecting in the corners
I met a new friend on trail last night
tomorrow, she and I will pour over tea leaves
or perhaps just drink coffee
Her Eastern and my Western
meeting in this town
new for both of us
to collaborate for good and for fun
********** *********** ***********
The coming of winter feels like gaining weight
Layers of clothing, tight with warmth
Laziness and inertia gathering in piles around my feet
********** ********** **********
I miss my old friends.
Names scattered on the calendar to remind me to celebrate them
even those who are gone or going
I would sit in this cafe across from tall, beautiful Alice and lose this day in her laughter. She is at once calm and adventurous.
To hear Red's voice say "Heeeeey Baaaabeeee"
I wonder where Chris is. How big are Leah and Holly now?
I heard from Jeffy last night. I miss his appetite for life. To taste it all without gluttony.
Ms. Lisa's gentleness and creativity. A dose of her inspiration would do me good right now.
I just bought a used book for $3.20 that cost $1.50 in 1975. The original price is clearly marked on the cover. The clerk at The Matter Bookstore said "that must have been when the dollar was worth a lot more." He wasn't even born in 1975.
I've bought several copies of this book as gifts. All of them cost about $6 at major bookstores. This one is a gift for Bethany. It will be worth every penny.
*********** ************ ************
Chasing the chill with new friends
Nights grow long and deep
Cold rattles in the branches
not yet muffled by snow
balanced by the warmth of tiny white lights
Clouds bloom on the rooftop across the street
and the wind
chases the stubborn leaves from the branches
to gather at the door, begging to be let in
I would run away
but for this bag on my shoulder
hanging heavy with work
and projects collecting in the corners
I met a new friend on trail last night
tomorrow, she and I will pour over tea leaves
or perhaps just drink coffee
Her Eastern and my Western
meeting in this town
new for both of us
to collaborate for good and for fun
********** *********** ***********
The coming of winter feels like gaining weight
Layers of clothing, tight with warmth
Laziness and inertia gathering in piles around my feet
********** ********** **********
I miss my old friends.
Names scattered on the calendar to remind me to celebrate them
even those who are gone or going
I would sit in this cafe across from tall, beautiful Alice and lose this day in her laughter. She is at once calm and adventurous.
To hear Red's voice say "Heeeeey Baaaabeeee"
I wonder where Chris is. How big are Leah and Holly now?
I heard from Jeffy last night. I miss his appetite for life. To taste it all without gluttony.
Ms. Lisa's gentleness and creativity. A dose of her inspiration would do me good right now.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Making History
One week ago all we heard on TV and the radio was how "History" was made by electing Barak Obama President of the United states. While I agree, it is noteworthy and a very good thing... don't we make history every day? I mean, EVERYTHING that IS becomes history. It's just that there are some things we deem worthy enough to write down as History.
I find it sad that it is so noteworthy that Barak Obama is African American. While we have crossed a barrier we are definitely no closer to being color blind. In fact, we are shining an even brighter light on the issue of race. For me, it is more intriguing that Mr. Obama is so close in age to me and therefore feel that we might have some similarities in what feels important for the present and future. Having a president who has a life expectancy of about 5 more years doesn't bode well for thinking in the long term.
I find it sad that it is so noteworthy that Barak Obama is African American. While we have crossed a barrier we are definitely no closer to being color blind. In fact, we are shining an even brighter light on the issue of race. For me, it is more intriguing that Mr. Obama is so close in age to me and therefore feel that we might have some similarities in what feels important for the present and future. Having a president who has a life expectancy of about 5 more years doesn't bode well for thinking in the long term.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Ironman Florida 2008
“I could do this, all I have to do is learn to swim!” That’s what I said at Ironman KY, 2007 and I had to put my money where my mouth is.
Wednesday October 29th: Bags packed, we headed for the airport. At 48 lbs, it felt like my giant yellow Cabelas duffel was filled with iron. Instead, it was filled with bike pedals, bento boxes, saddles, spare tubes, and birthday presents. Our carry-on bags seemed equally heavy, stuffed full of clothing and wet suits. Loaded with gear and potential we boarded a plane to Atlanta; ultimately Florida bound.
The drive through Georgia and Alabama into the Florida panhandle involved miles of pine trees and kudzu; a stop to explore a field of cotton and swab Guy’s ears; and vigorous conversation about the merits of stopping by the Dothon National Peanut Festival for boiled, fried, Cajun, spiced, and roasted peanuts on the way back. I’m not sure whether Guy wanted to try the peanuts or watch me swell up like a tick. There was little change to identify the crossing of state lines but we knew we were well into Florida when we started seeing signs for the upcoming bike race along highway 231 on our way into Panama City.
We buzzed directly to Panama City Beach and the Boardwalk Beach Resort to register for Ironman Florida 2008 and pick up our packets. The area was abuzz with race setup, retail at its finest, and registration. We signed in, filled out our emergency information, and lined up to be weighed and receive our packets. When it was my turn, I tipped the scales at a svelte 175 lbs… until Guy took his toe off the back of the scale. I was given a wrist band, pink swim cap with my number on it, a packet with my numbers and instructions, and a T-shirt. The numerous volunteers all wished me luck, I was going to need all the luck I could get.
After a quick swim out two bouys on the course and back, we headed to Kurt and Amy’s house about 45 minutes across town at Tyndall AFB. Amy met us at the gate to sign us up for a pass and we headed to their house. While Florida is certainly not Colorado, it did resemble a paradise of sorts, backing up onto a beach with the Shell Islands on the horizon and the sun sinking low, hinting at the sunset to come.
The day before the race was Halloween. We spent most of the day preparing Kurt and Amy’s bikes to fit us the best possible (slightly larger than our bikes but oh-so-much lighter). Kurt guaranteed “2-flat Guy” that he would have no flats and he delivered on that promise which means new tires in Guy’s future. We packed gear bags for the swim-to-bike transition, the bike-to-run, and two special needs bags for mid-ride and mid-run. Dashing out at the last minute we arrived minutes before our bikes had to be racked and dropped off our gear. More than a little stressed from the tight timeline, I was in quick agreement for a cold beer and a snack before our swim. Kurt waited patiently while we suited up and swam out around a couple bouys again. Then we dashed back nearly as fast to pass out candy and see the boys in costume as pirates. It was essential to finish my pedicure with a coat of bright orange nail polish which Berg, Amy, and Wendy assured me would be the most buoyant and fastest color.
That night we headed back to Panama City Beach to stay at the home of Kurt’s friends. Keith and Natalia live about 10 minutes from the beach and have just build a large garage with a beautiful Mother-in-law apartment above it. After a brief introduction we settled in to make last minute sandwiches and eat ice cream before bed. The accommodations were primo and even came with doggie kisses before bed.
We parked a short distance from the race site and walked over with our last minute bags. We put on our wet suits and stood around the beach for the National Anthem and then the pro’s start. Soon we moved toward the water in a crowd of wetsuits topped with pink and blue swim caps. Everyone looked nearly the same but I’m absolutely sure I kissed the right Guy for good luck! I waited for the crowd to hit the water and start swimming. Then I started. My breathing was way off. I stopped. I started again, still off. When I came up again, there was Guy bobbing close by to encourage me. He told me he was staying with me and I’d be fine. I swam some more, still struggling but much better. I stopped one more time and he reminded me to go slowly so I slowed down. From there, I stopped only to sight when I was having trouble seeing the bouys. It took 2/3 of the first loop to get really comfy and relaxed. At the end of the first loop, Guy gave me a big kiss in front of the crowd and then we parted ways to do our own races. He blasted through the next loop feeling great. And I swam the next loop about 20 minutes faster than the first one, even passing many swimmers. I spotted two jellies floating below me near the end of the swim. I came out of the water jazzed and ran up to the “strippers” who pulled my wetsuit off before I ran through the showers.
As I came through the walkway of the hotel, I called out my number and at the other end my transition bag was waiting in the hands of a volunteer. I grabbed it with thanks and ran into the changing tent. There another volunteer took my bag and dumped it. She asked me about each item and helped me change clothes (even putting one sock on for me) and gather my wits and my gear. As I ran out eating a sandwich, two young girls with rubber gloves slathered my arms, legs, and face with more sunscreen. A volunteer called out my number and by the time I got to the rack with my bike it was standing at the ready with another volunteer. Are you getting the idea about how fabulous the volunteers are?
I crossed the mat and was off on the bike elated that I already had my victory regardless of what came next. The first 20 miles fell quickly and I was hopeful. At mile 50, I grabbed one of my sandwiches and still felt great despite the mild but gradual uphill and the headwind. By mile 60, the wheels were coming off… not off the bike, my wheels. My shorts were bunching up and chafing my legs. The seat was becoming painful and my right Achilles was screaming. I slowed down considerably after that. An out and back with particularly bumpy cracks was a very painful experience that took whatever wind was left in my sails. I was convinced I wouldn’t make the 4 o’clock cutoff at 90 miles and even if I did, I surely wouldn’t make the last 22 miles in 1.5 hours after that. In fact, I almost hoped I wouldn’t make it. But make it, I did, by 15 minutes. And then someone went by and said, “we can make it, only 13 miles to go.” I picked up the pace, I’m not sure how. I started pedaling faster and inching up the gearing. I started singing Mark Cohn’s “Dig Down Deep” to myself in my head. I knew it was going to be close. I wasn’t sure I had enough left and then, how would I run. Remembering from ultras that it is best not to do math and not to think too much, I just kept pedaling trying to convince myself that I was a perpetual motion machine. I rolled into the transition to cheers of “you’ve made it!” I crossed the mat 15 minutes under the cutoff.
A quick change and ½ sandwich and I was out on the run in 5 minutes. Completing a section and the crowd gets you jazzed. I took off alternating running and walking. I was stiff but amazed how good I felt. I watched for Kurt and Amy and the Kids but didn’t see them. Then I started watching for Guy, finding him at about mile 3 on his way back in. I was pretty sure he might be finishing but would be amazed to see him headed out again on my way back. Some of the miles seemed long, some seemed short, but all of them were uncomfortable at best. Both Achilles were now hurting and so was nearly everything else. Training might have made that less but what is, is and I probably deserved some pain for not having done it.
The turnaround point at the State Park finally came into view and I crossed the mat. It was dark by then and the flood lights were sparse. A flashlight might have been helpful but this road was pretty good and it wasn’t essential. I ran back about ½ way and again, my lack of endurance caught up with me. I walked more and ran less back to the start/finish chute and the turn-around. I could barely run on the second lap so I channeled my friend Jay Norman and walked as fast as I possibly could. I was sure they said at the pre-race meeting that the cutoff at the turnaround was 10 p.m. and I just knew I wouldn’t make it. I might get pulled for time but I wasn’t going to quit! Another runner passed me doing the shuffle. He was a first timer and, he said, a last timer. He had no idea how painful something could be. It was painful, but nothing that the weight of a finisher’s medal couldn’t cure.
At 10:20, I made the turn about ¼- ½ mile behind him and they let me go through. As I made my way back with my chicken walk (trying to keep my Achilles from tearing in half) they were taking down the aid stations and some were gone completely. Grazing herds of deer had replaced the volunteers and several caught me by surprise. I caught up to the same guy at about mile 23 and he asked if we could finish. I told him I wasn’t quitting and that I would finish either before or after midnight but that I was going for it. He seemed resigned to try if I was going to. It seemed bleak for both of us.
About another mile down the road, a white car rolled up beside me and the window rolled down… it was my Prandsome Hince with a white-but-not-quite-steed. He was thrilled to see me still moving and I was thrilled at his support. He told me I had 25 minutes to go the last 2.2 miles and that I could make it but I would have to run. Once again, I began digging deep. I told him I’d like him to be there at the finish line and he took off (knowing he’d have to drive fast to beat me ;-) The first few steps felt like flames up the backs of my legs, I couldn’t. I walked again. I tried again and again until I could run 10 feet and then 50. I was alternating my fast walk and a run. The last mile I was able to run most of it with only a few short bits of walking as I’d find myself slowing down. I was hearing the announcer in the distance and finally, the chute. I summoned up everything else I had left and ran into the chute finishing at 16:51:41 to receive my medal and my congratulatory kiss from Guy. Unbelievable, I had pulled it off!
I had pulled it off with an incredible amount of luck (but then, I’d rather be lucky than good any day!) and with the well wishes of a lot of folks. I channeled a lot of great people during the race and had lots of time in my head to think about them. There were all the police on every corner and all the incredible volunteers I thanked along the course and those who were behind the scenes I didn’t even know about. All of them made my race possible. My swim coach Wendy did wonders for my stroke and my confidence, helping make the swim my best leg. Core PT who patched up my ankle at the last minute after I pulled my Slinky act down the basement stairs. Kurt and Amy gave us a wonderful place to stay, great food, and kisses from Berg and Kai to inspire us. And Guy gave me incredible support through all of my learning to swim, my anxiety, and my race.
The winners had finished eons before me but I still had my victory. Now it was time to celebrate! First with a heavenly hot shower. Do you know how good it feels to wash off hours of sweat and pain and Gatorade and sea salt? And then the feel of clean sheets and a soft mattress? Sleep was wonderful but broken by many awakenings as I moved my sore limbs. Soreness was not to dampen my spirits for relaxation time and Berg’s 4th birthday. I haven’t said much about Kurt, Amy, Berg, or Kai because this is mostly the story of the race… I’ll save that for the next story on my blog. But, it was his birthday celebrated with a piñata surfside and caramel apples (made with Amy-made fresh cream caramel), pumpkin lasagna (made more for me than Berg) and a luscious yellow cake with raspberry filling and chocolate ganache. There is no better refuel for body or spirit than the delight of a 4 year old at his birthday and amazing eats from my favorite chef, a quick snorkeling excursion before sunset and a relaxing evening with fabulous friends. Snuggles from the boys and wags from the dogs were icing on the cake.
It was time to head home. A longish car ride to Macon gave us plenty of opportunity to tighten up and remember the race. But lunch with cousin Anne and uncle Bill was a lovely end to the vacation. Now it feels more like a vacation than the work of race day. And now… it’s time to train for Lake Placid.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
On the Ironman while visiting Amy
When biting off more than you can chew, it helps to have a fantastic cook around!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Golf of Mexico
October is drawing to a close. In a few short days, it’ll be Halloween. Halloween used to be my favorite holiday and I still love it, though it’s been replaced in the Favorite category by Thanksgiving.
This year, I will be spending Halloween at the home of my friends Kurt and Amy and their fabulous boys, Berg and Kai. I’ve adopted Berg and Kai as my nephews since my brother had both girls and I wouldn’t get a chance to be an uncle without boyz. Besides that they are super cool kids.
The boyz are dressing as pirates for Halloween. I’m particularly glad of their choice of costumes. Because they are going to be pirates, I know they will be out on their pirate ship the next day and will protect me in my swim in the Gulf of Mexico. I know Pirates aren’t known for protecting people but I would bet that even a pirate will protect someone he loves… and besides, I have no treasure to pillage except the love I have for these boys and they can have all of that they can handle.
The day after Halloween, I will work off the Halloween candy I won’t be eating by swimming with 2200 of my very best new friends in the Gulf. You see, I misread the travel brochures… and thinking it was the Golf of Mexico, I thought it was a lot like swimming in those poo poo balls at McDonalds or Chucky Cheese. But alas, it is real water and salty to boot.
With me on this swim will be a little boy who is very, very sick. I have laminated his photo and will carry it close to my heart. My struggle is nothing compared to his and I will give him whatever strength it brings me to complete this swim-bike-run. If you have a little extra strength of your own, please use it to hold out the best and highest good for a certain sweet little boy and his family.
When I finish the swim, my pirate friends will be cheering me on while I ride the bike… their Mommy’s bike, actually. And after that, the run… or walk… or crawl, whatever it is by then.
And then there is the day after this event… the day after the culmination of a year’s worth of learning to swim (and doing little else in the way of workouts)… it will be Berg’s birthday. And oh, what a celebration that should be. In a way, it’s my birthday too… because this race is all about my birthday and meeting a new challenge as I start my 45th year.
Vacation… much needed and much fun. It doesn’t get much better than that.
This year, I will be spending Halloween at the home of my friends Kurt and Amy and their fabulous boys, Berg and Kai. I’ve adopted Berg and Kai as my nephews since my brother had both girls and I wouldn’t get a chance to be an uncle without boyz. Besides that they are super cool kids.
The boyz are dressing as pirates for Halloween. I’m particularly glad of their choice of costumes. Because they are going to be pirates, I know they will be out on their pirate ship the next day and will protect me in my swim in the Gulf of Mexico. I know Pirates aren’t known for protecting people but I would bet that even a pirate will protect someone he loves… and besides, I have no treasure to pillage except the love I have for these boys and they can have all of that they can handle.
The day after Halloween, I will work off the Halloween candy I won’t be eating by swimming with 2200 of my very best new friends in the Gulf. You see, I misread the travel brochures… and thinking it was the Golf of Mexico, I thought it was a lot like swimming in those poo poo balls at McDonalds or Chucky Cheese. But alas, it is real water and salty to boot.
With me on this swim will be a little boy who is very, very sick. I have laminated his photo and will carry it close to my heart. My struggle is nothing compared to his and I will give him whatever strength it brings me to complete this swim-bike-run. If you have a little extra strength of your own, please use it to hold out the best and highest good for a certain sweet little boy and his family.
When I finish the swim, my pirate friends will be cheering me on while I ride the bike… their Mommy’s bike, actually. And after that, the run… or walk… or crawl, whatever it is by then.
And then there is the day after this event… the day after the culmination of a year’s worth of learning to swim (and doing little else in the way of workouts)… it will be Berg’s birthday. And oh, what a celebration that should be. In a way, it’s my birthday too… because this race is all about my birthday and meeting a new challenge as I start my 45th year.
Vacation… much needed and much fun. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Small Victories
Last weekend was a weekend off. I went to Amarillo for a race and Guy partied and worked.
This week Mick, the floor guy, came and worked on the bedroom floor.
The bedroom floor had started out with harvest gold shag carpet, saturated with decades of dog hair, foot traffic, and grime. Guy dragged it out the front door within a week of us moving in.
Beneath the carpet and the deep layer of dirt, he found linoleum. And beneath that, tar paper. Buried deep was a hardwood floor. We covered it with cardboard so we wouldn’t track tar all over the finished floors in the rest of the house.
After a couple weeks, Guy found Mick. He ground off the layer of crud on the floors, revealing the nice wood in the picture to the left.
The floors aren’t quite done yet but the first layer of finish is on them. The holes in the wall from old plumbing (top left) are plastered over. The blue trim is now bright satin white.
Yesterday the walls and ceiling got primed. And today we painted the ceiling with that ceiling paint that goes on pink and dries white. We took a photo of ME working so you’ll know that I’ve done a little more than photograph during this project.
After we return from Florida, the floors should be done. The walls will become bright yellow and we’ll move the bedroom furniture in. We’ll also populate the ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars like I had in my old house.
Smaller steps are a little easier. We had time this weekend for a party on Saturday night and a rally to see Barack Obama this afternoon. That and packing for Florida pretty much filled the weekend. Did I tell you I love paint… instant gratification!
Lisa and Guy
This week Mick, the floor guy, came and worked on the bedroom floor.
The bedroom floor had started out with harvest gold shag carpet, saturated with decades of dog hair, foot traffic, and grime. Guy dragged it out the front door within a week of us moving in.
Beneath the carpet and the deep layer of dirt, he found linoleum. And beneath that, tar paper. Buried deep was a hardwood floor. We covered it with cardboard so we wouldn’t track tar all over the finished floors in the rest of the house.
After a couple weeks, Guy found Mick. He ground off the layer of crud on the floors, revealing the nice wood in the picture to the left.
The floors aren’t quite done yet but the first layer of finish is on them. The holes in the wall from old plumbing (top left) are plastered over. The blue trim is now bright satin white.
Yesterday the walls and ceiling got primed. And today we painted the ceiling with that ceiling paint that goes on pink and dries white. We took a photo of ME working so you’ll know that I’ve done a little more than photograph during this project.
After we return from Florida, the floors should be done. The walls will become bright yellow and we’ll move the bedroom furniture in. We’ll also populate the ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars like I had in my old house.
Smaller steps are a little easier. We had time this weekend for a party on Saturday night and a rally to see Barack Obama this afternoon. That and packing for Florida pretty much filled the weekend. Did I tell you I love paint… instant gratification!
Lisa and Guy
Monday, October 20, 2008
The View From the Other Side
Palo Duro 50 as a volunteer
I’ve volunteered before and I’ve paced many times but never at PD 50. Every year I’ve made it, I’ve run the 50 K or 50 Mile and I’ve never been disappointed. This year, as a volunteer, I again was rewarded for attending.
I’ve bragged about this race since I first ran it, from the race director to the aid station food and everywhere in between. The trails are spectacular and the volunteers even more exceptional than at many other ultras (believe me, that’s a high bar!). I’m not sure I’m allowed to brag about the volunteers in general this year since I was one but I’ll share a few specifics. I would say it’s a “colorful” race… from the founders to the volunteers to the canyon itself… color, everywhere.
The night before the race, I sat at a picnic table between the canopies we had set up. I looked at the race banner in the moonlight. Rows of flags waited to be unfurled. It was quiet except the distant laughter of racers hovering over campfires making final preparations and the coyote yipping in the distance. The Milky Way stretched from north to south across the canyon and the Big Dipper was poised over the north rim to enjoy a scoop of the magic of the Canyon.
As always, the race started with a prerace check-in before dark. Bagpipes echoed of the cliffs of the canyon. I love bagpipes but this year they made me cry for the first of many times that day. Check-in is too fast and furious to think about anything else so we got people in order and they gathered under the start banner and the American and Texas flags. Runners lined up between a 100 yard path of flags, Texas on the north and flags for other states and countries represented by runners on the south.
The 50 mile and 50 K runners took off as we finished with the 20K runners. In a short half hour they would be off into the darkness too, seeking glow sticks and bogeymen in the trees. As it does every day, the sun rose and lit the canyon walls. I don’t get to see it every day and it always takes my breath away. I’ve been there in all seasons for trail work weekends and visiting… it always amazes me.
And so the volunteers wait. The 20K finish line was set out. The cooking crew was in full swing. Timer set up, computers and backups, were finalized. The aid station was arranged. And we waited. 50K runners started coming through on their first lap, then 50 milers. Once the 20K runners started coming in, we got very busy getting everyone tabulated. It’s not like those road races where you have a chute to stack the runners into… no pull off tabs… Here we call out numbers and enter them in the computer, we pass out finisher’s hats (not enough because so many people registered so late), we answer questions, and we guide people into the appropriate place so the 20K people don’t get run over by 50K and 50 Mile runners blazing through for another go ‘round.
My favorite thing about volunteering is getting to meet everyone. Hearing stories about streakers through the Little Fox aid station where Dos Locos Senoritas were in rare form, as usual. I wished I were out on that trail nearly as much as I enjoyed what I was doing.
This year, the race was put on by Bill and Wynn Ross and a lot of volunteers from the Amarillo area running and mountain bike groups. Bill and Wynn have been co-race directors for many years but this year, they got the whole tamale. It has been a tradition that the race gets a little bigger and a little better every year. It’s pretty spectacular so that’s not a small task to do. They more than succeeded. Their love of the race and the canyon comes through in how they handle the race and the volunteers. As much as colorfulness, this race exudes class.
Every year when I have run this race, I have attributed my luck to making a point to kiss the race director, Red Spicer, and anyone in his family that might be present (usually his daughter Revelle and some years ago, his son Phil) on every loop. Red was not there to direct the race this year. Nor did he get to receive kisses. But Red was very present on the whole course all day. Dos Locos Senoritas hung a triangle at their aid station and invited people to ring it for Red to hear. They gave out bells for people to ring as they crossed the finish line. Revelle was present and I did manage to give her one kiss when she came into the start finish for a couple burgers and more supplies.
Once the 20K was done, I helped time the 50 Mile and 50K. I cheered friends and visited with friends. I sent people on necessary errands and tended to whatever I could do. But I was still itching to get out on the trail. I knew one special friend was soon to come in on the 50K so I finally broke free to run out and find him. It was good to be on the trails that are so much like an old friend. The fall color was in full glory on Juniper Creekside and Sunflower. If I was lucky, I’d get to Red’s Rock before I found him… but he was too fast. I got to run in with my dear friend Jay as he finished this race for the 22nd or 23rd time in the 24 years it has been put on.
Did I tell you about the food? After a long day in the sun timing and a little run, a burger sure is a good thing. The cooking crew was working so hard and I knew they had something terrific. Somewhere in the stacks of the smoker there is always a veggie burger hiding for me and anyone else who asks. There are fresh grilled jalepenos and hatch green chiles if you are so inclined. The usual burger fixin’s are also available for more traditional types. One burger would leave just enough room for the volunteer dinner I knew they were working on. Primo, Bassman, and their faithful crew (too many to name them all) also deliver on bigger and better every year. .. cherry AND peach cobbler… It pays to volunteer.
At 6:30 as the last racer came in under the wire, the sun was setting on Palo Duro Canyon; every bit as beautiful as the sun rise. The runners packed up and went home or to their campsites and hot showers. But there is more to be done when the race is run.
100 yards of flags need to be rolled and packaged for next year. The finish banner needs to come down off its frame and all the electrical equipment for lighting and timing have to be packed up. That shower has to be unhooked and put in the trailer. Signs along the course, aid station tables, and every last scrap of trash has to be cleaned up. The course markings can be left for the mountain bike volunteers to pick up tomorrow along the trail where they offered assistance or encouragement to injured, dehydrated, and tired runners all day. Finally at 8:30 dinner and rest. I get to go home in the morning but the race directors and a few other local volunteers will have to clean out the rental truck of all the supplies. They will have to be cleaned and stored for next year. The end is a beginning in and of itself…preparation for the 25th running of the Palo Duro Canyon races.
Many thanks to Wynn and Bill for taking over the direction of this race under such sad circumstances and doing such a fabulous job. To Revelle for being a gracious hostess and aid station captain with her amazingly busy schedule and all she’s had to handle in the months leading up to the race. To the cooking crew who really know how to satisfy a racer’s appetite. And all the other volunteers who make this race special.
For starting all of this and leaving this legacy, thanks to Red Spicer and Bob Givens… and the others who got it going with them. Your love of the trails is given back 1000 fold to the runners whose simultaneous struggle and happiness echoes off the canyon walls.
Lisa B
I’ve volunteered before and I’ve paced many times but never at PD 50. Every year I’ve made it, I’ve run the 50 K or 50 Mile and I’ve never been disappointed. This year, as a volunteer, I again was rewarded for attending.
I’ve bragged about this race since I first ran it, from the race director to the aid station food and everywhere in between. The trails are spectacular and the volunteers even more exceptional than at many other ultras (believe me, that’s a high bar!). I’m not sure I’m allowed to brag about the volunteers in general this year since I was one but I’ll share a few specifics. I would say it’s a “colorful” race… from the founders to the volunteers to the canyon itself… color, everywhere.
The night before the race, I sat at a picnic table between the canopies we had set up. I looked at the race banner in the moonlight. Rows of flags waited to be unfurled. It was quiet except the distant laughter of racers hovering over campfires making final preparations and the coyote yipping in the distance. The Milky Way stretched from north to south across the canyon and the Big Dipper was poised over the north rim to enjoy a scoop of the magic of the Canyon.
As always, the race started with a prerace check-in before dark. Bagpipes echoed of the cliffs of the canyon. I love bagpipes but this year they made me cry for the first of many times that day. Check-in is too fast and furious to think about anything else so we got people in order and they gathered under the start banner and the American and Texas flags. Runners lined up between a 100 yard path of flags, Texas on the north and flags for other states and countries represented by runners on the south.
The 50 mile and 50 K runners took off as we finished with the 20K runners. In a short half hour they would be off into the darkness too, seeking glow sticks and bogeymen in the trees. As it does every day, the sun rose and lit the canyon walls. I don’t get to see it every day and it always takes my breath away. I’ve been there in all seasons for trail work weekends and visiting… it always amazes me.
And so the volunteers wait. The 20K finish line was set out. The cooking crew was in full swing. Timer set up, computers and backups, were finalized. The aid station was arranged. And we waited. 50K runners started coming through on their first lap, then 50 milers. Once the 20K runners started coming in, we got very busy getting everyone tabulated. It’s not like those road races where you have a chute to stack the runners into… no pull off tabs… Here we call out numbers and enter them in the computer, we pass out finisher’s hats (not enough because so many people registered so late), we answer questions, and we guide people into the appropriate place so the 20K people don’t get run over by 50K and 50 Mile runners blazing through for another go ‘round.
My favorite thing about volunteering is getting to meet everyone. Hearing stories about streakers through the Little Fox aid station where Dos Locos Senoritas were in rare form, as usual. I wished I were out on that trail nearly as much as I enjoyed what I was doing.
This year, the race was put on by Bill and Wynn Ross and a lot of volunteers from the Amarillo area running and mountain bike groups. Bill and Wynn have been co-race directors for many years but this year, they got the whole tamale. It has been a tradition that the race gets a little bigger and a little better every year. It’s pretty spectacular so that’s not a small task to do. They more than succeeded. Their love of the race and the canyon comes through in how they handle the race and the volunteers. As much as colorfulness, this race exudes class.
Every year when I have run this race, I have attributed my luck to making a point to kiss the race director, Red Spicer, and anyone in his family that might be present (usually his daughter Revelle and some years ago, his son Phil) on every loop. Red was not there to direct the race this year. Nor did he get to receive kisses. But Red was very present on the whole course all day. Dos Locos Senoritas hung a triangle at their aid station and invited people to ring it for Red to hear. They gave out bells for people to ring as they crossed the finish line. Revelle was present and I did manage to give her one kiss when she came into the start finish for a couple burgers and more supplies.
Once the 20K was done, I helped time the 50 Mile and 50K. I cheered friends and visited with friends. I sent people on necessary errands and tended to whatever I could do. But I was still itching to get out on the trail. I knew one special friend was soon to come in on the 50K so I finally broke free to run out and find him. It was good to be on the trails that are so much like an old friend. The fall color was in full glory on Juniper Creekside and Sunflower. If I was lucky, I’d get to Red’s Rock before I found him… but he was too fast. I got to run in with my dear friend Jay as he finished this race for the 22nd or 23rd time in the 24 years it has been put on.
Did I tell you about the food? After a long day in the sun timing and a little run, a burger sure is a good thing. The cooking crew was working so hard and I knew they had something terrific. Somewhere in the stacks of the smoker there is always a veggie burger hiding for me and anyone else who asks. There are fresh grilled jalepenos and hatch green chiles if you are so inclined. The usual burger fixin’s are also available for more traditional types. One burger would leave just enough room for the volunteer dinner I knew they were working on. Primo, Bassman, and their faithful crew (too many to name them all) also deliver on bigger and better every year. .. cherry AND peach cobbler… It pays to volunteer.
At 6:30 as the last racer came in under the wire, the sun was setting on Palo Duro Canyon; every bit as beautiful as the sun rise. The runners packed up and went home or to their campsites and hot showers. But there is more to be done when the race is run.
100 yards of flags need to be rolled and packaged for next year. The finish banner needs to come down off its frame and all the electrical equipment for lighting and timing have to be packed up. That shower has to be unhooked and put in the trailer. Signs along the course, aid station tables, and every last scrap of trash has to be cleaned up. The course markings can be left for the mountain bike volunteers to pick up tomorrow along the trail where they offered assistance or encouragement to injured, dehydrated, and tired runners all day. Finally at 8:30 dinner and rest. I get to go home in the morning but the race directors and a few other local volunteers will have to clean out the rental truck of all the supplies. They will have to be cleaned and stored for next year. The end is a beginning in and of itself…preparation for the 25th running of the Palo Duro Canyon races.
Many thanks to Wynn and Bill for taking over the direction of this race under such sad circumstances and doing such a fabulous job. To Revelle for being a gracious hostess and aid station captain with her amazingly busy schedule and all she’s had to handle in the months leading up to the race. To the cooking crew who really know how to satisfy a racer’s appetite. And all the other volunteers who make this race special.
For starting all of this and leaving this legacy, thanks to Red Spicer and Bob Givens… and the others who got it going with them. Your love of the trails is given back 1000 fold to the runners whose simultaneous struggle and happiness echoes off the canyon walls.
Lisa B
Sunday, October 12, 2008
A lack of time, a rainy weekend, a parade, a concert, a huge packet to read, and a lot of work on Guy’s plate… not to mention a nasty cold… and not a lot got accomplished this weekend. Well, actually, a lot got accomplished but mostly smaller things… still important things.
First was the homecoming parade for CSU. The Engines and Energy Conversion Lab built a “float” using the Hydraulic Hybrid as a rolling bandstand. While the band rocked, the hybrid rolled through the judging stations on hydraulic power. It was a success for Czero and a load of fun for the students and faculty involved.
After the parade, the students and faculty came by the house for a pizza party. To the neighbor’s relief, the band didn’t play and a block party didn’t materialize. Better for all involved, I’m sure.
The next up on the list was sanding the plaster repairs in the bedroom and painting everything before the flooring guy comes Monday. But, my cold was not going to tolerate breathing plaster dust and the weather decided not to cooperate either. Saturday was cold and rainy with a high in the 50s. The forecast at mid-day was for rain to turn to snow in the Front Range with up to an inch of accumulation.
Needless to say, that necessitated a change of plans. The outdoor plants had to come in. Some of them needed some serious rehab and replanting so I got to it and made a makeshift plant shelf in a west-facing window to afford the ailing aloe some warm sun. Meanwhile, Guy got busy working on a cold frame for the herbs. It seems that he’s been promised a turkey for Thanksgiving and probably something yummy around Christmas (after our travels) and is excited about the idea of some fresh herbs.
The garden beside the house is almost all clay (plus the two huge bags of coffee grounds I mixed in). So Guy dug up herbs and began prepping the area. The drizzle kept him wet and cold most of the day, a perfect combination with me exposing him to my cold. I hope he doesn’t get it this week while he is traveling!
By the end of the weekend, Guy had the cold frame 95% done and functional. As is usual for Guy’s projects, it will be standing much longer than the house! I mixed in some good soil and replanted the herbs.
While Guy worked, I felt badly that he was out in the drizzle, though he barely noticed. So I made him a nice steamy pot of chili with about ¾ lb diced roasted green chiles and some terrific New Mexico red chile powder. Enough pepper and vitamin C to ward off any cold! That kept him going for the afternoon and staved off enough hunger to get us to the evening’s activities.
We went to Avogadro’s Number, a local mediocre veggie restaurant and terrific music venue. Peter Mayer, a fave folk musician from Minnesota, was playing. As usual, his concert was top notch. Something about seeing a favorite musician in a small venue with about 100 people is great. Check him out at www.petermayer.net
When the chores moved inside, Guy managed to create a ski rack for all our gear. We are beginning to look organized! And ready for winter…. Which, it seems, is coming fast!
Oh, and I finally took a photo of the clothes line Guy put up for us. It’s a bit too rainy now to use it… but once snow flies, it’ll be dry outside again and we’ll be able to use it.
So all in all, this weekend was a nice mixture. Some fun, some work, and some resting.
Next weekend will be a bit of a break as I’ll be at the Palo Duro Canyon 50M/50K/20K working an aid station with Red’s daughter Revelle. I’m sure we’ll be sharing some wonderful memories and probably more than a few tears. I look forward to seeing my Texas friends and getting in a short run on some of my favorite trails ever. I know Red will be with me every step of the way.
We’ll get in one more short weekend of work before heading for Florida on the 29th. Keep sending good ju ju. The house has prevented 99% of the training I needed… the other 1% is pure laziness. ;-)
Running Shoes
Running shoes
lined up by the back door,
orderly children
waiting for the recess bell to ring.
Dust gathers,
Layer by layer
old insulation
bits of wire
drywall dust
One pair,
held in hopeful isolation
at the bottom
of the gym bag,
is passed over again and again
for lycra and goggles
save the rare morning run.
I am woefully unprepared,
except for the swim.
As if I could train
to run and ride
by carrying boxes
and wielding a paintbrush.
But I will toe the line,
wishing for a handful of miracles
and the forgiveness of my shoes.
Perhaps an Iron will is enough.
LB 10/09/08
__._,_.___
lined up by the back door,
orderly children
waiting for the recess bell to ring.
Dust gathers,
Layer by layer
old insulation
bits of wire
drywall dust
One pair,
held in hopeful isolation
at the bottom
of the gym bag,
is passed over again and again
for lycra and goggles
save the rare morning run.
I am woefully unprepared,
except for the swim.
As if I could train
to run and ride
by carrying boxes
and wielding a paintbrush.
But I will toe the line,
wishing for a handful of miracles
and the forgiveness of my shoes.
Perhaps an Iron will is enough.
LB 10/09/08
__._,_.___
Monday, September 29, 2008
Going with the Flow
After my session with my swim coach Wendy, I decided to buy a new wetsuit. She thought maybe my old one was too small. So, I was on my way to the Springs and Helen suggested I try Criterium Bike Shop where they were selling the last year's rental suits at clearance prices. For $150, I got a new wetsuit, a size larger, in perfect condition.
Saturday, Guy and I went to the lake. We suited up. I could breathe. We bobbed into the water to get used to the cold. After a few minutes, I was able to swim freestyle almost all the way to the bouy (well, actually, I think it's an inflatable swim platform). Then I swam back. Then I did it all over again.
I'd like to think it's about a half mile to that bouy. But I know in reality, it's probably more like 200 meters. And maybe that's not such a long swim but to do it without anxiety in the lake is HUGE.
So today I decided to back up that experience with a "distance" workout. I got to the pool at 5:50 and by 6:35 was finishing up my first 2000 yards. After about 3 minutes rest, I did another 1000 in about 23 minutes.
I felt myself gliding through the water. I felt the Power of the catch. I got out satisfied with my workout and hungry.
Alexis informs me I can no longer use the phrase "I can't swim."
Saturday, Guy and I went to the lake. We suited up. I could breathe. We bobbed into the water to get used to the cold. After a few minutes, I was able to swim freestyle almost all the way to the bouy (well, actually, I think it's an inflatable swim platform). Then I swam back. Then I did it all over again.
I'd like to think it's about a half mile to that bouy. But I know in reality, it's probably more like 200 meters. And maybe that's not such a long swim but to do it without anxiety in the lake is HUGE.
So today I decided to back up that experience with a "distance" workout. I got to the pool at 5:50 and by 6:35 was finishing up my first 2000 yards. After about 3 minutes rest, I did another 1000 in about 23 minutes.
I felt myself gliding through the water. I felt the Power of the catch. I got out satisfied with my workout and hungry.
Alexis informs me I can no longer use the phrase "I can't swim."
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
You Are What You Eat
Fish.
Halibut, tuna, coho salmon, silverbrite, king salmon, tilapia, grouper, red snapper, orange roughy, and cod.
Fish.
But no, I still cannot swim with grace. Well, maybe I can a little. But in the water, I feel like a fish out of water... gasping for breath and flopping around, eyes bugging out, and a look of panic on my face.
I don't eat chicken... so why am I a chicken in the water?
Fish.
You are what you eat.
yeah right.
Well, maybe there's a little truth, I do eat a lot of shrimp.
Halibut, tuna, coho salmon, silverbrite, king salmon, tilapia, grouper, red snapper, orange roughy, and cod.
Fish.
But no, I still cannot swim with grace. Well, maybe I can a little. But in the water, I feel like a fish out of water... gasping for breath and flopping around, eyes bugging out, and a look of panic on my face.
I don't eat chicken... so why am I a chicken in the water?
Fish.
You are what you eat.
yeah right.
Well, maybe there's a little truth, I do eat a lot of shrimp.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood
I finally know what Mr. Rogers was singing about. After decades of subdivisions, housing developments, and the concept of gated communities, I am finally living in a neighborhood.
Within 2 weeks of moving in, I met 20 of my closest neighbors (half of them pint-sized) and dozens of people who regularly walk down this street. This is called "Old Town" and the way of living here goes back a long way.
There are about a dozen kids. Everyone seems to subscribe to the "it takes a community" approach to child rearing. On an almost daily basis, cones are put at each end of the street and a lawn chair is set up somewhere in the middle of the street. One parent or another sits like a lifeguard as all the kids race up and down on razors, bicycles, or playing games. When they need some rest, they dangle from the trees across the street where there are several swings. Every yard is a play space whether any of the kids actually lives in the house or not. And every adult (parent or not) is fair game for watching, helping, patching up bruised pride, or being safety monitor.
Within a month we'd been invited to a neighbor's house for dinner. Inside 6 weeks the neighbors were loaning Guy a tiara to wear with his tutu (oh, wait, that's another story). And already at 2 months we are hosting a happy hour to celebrate our house and neighborhood.
Would you be my, wontcha be my...neighbor.
Within 2 weeks of moving in, I met 20 of my closest neighbors (half of them pint-sized) and dozens of people who regularly walk down this street. This is called "Old Town" and the way of living here goes back a long way.
There are about a dozen kids. Everyone seems to subscribe to the "it takes a community" approach to child rearing. On an almost daily basis, cones are put at each end of the street and a lawn chair is set up somewhere in the middle of the street. One parent or another sits like a lifeguard as all the kids race up and down on razors, bicycles, or playing games. When they need some rest, they dangle from the trees across the street where there are several swings. Every yard is a play space whether any of the kids actually lives in the house or not. And every adult (parent or not) is fair game for watching, helping, patching up bruised pride, or being safety monitor.
Within a month we'd been invited to a neighbor's house for dinner. Inside 6 weeks the neighbors were loaning Guy a tiara to wear with his tutu (oh, wait, that's another story). And already at 2 months we are hosting a happy hour to celebrate our house and neighborhood.
Would you be my, wontcha be my...neighbor.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Old Dogs and New Tricks
I started running at the age of 14 when I joined the track team. A year hasn’t gone by since then that I haven’t run, at least a little. I’ve gone from 5 and 10Ks in my 20s to Marathons in my late 20s to Ultras beginning at 30.
And now, for something completely different…
Every time I’ve had an injury which sidelined me from running, I wished I could swim to replace the workouts. I biked but too many close encounters with unfriendly drivers on the road and mesquite trees on the trail and the fact that most of my injuries weren’t amenable to riding as a replacement quashed that as an alternate. So, several times I took swimming lessons but was barely breaking the surface when my injury healed and I was on the road again.
About 2 years ago, after a particularly good running year, I once again found myself coming up lame. Not being a horse, there was no chance they were going to shoot me to put me out of my misery. But, digging around to find the cause of multiple nagging injuries spelled a longer course of recovery than I could reasonably spend eating bon bons and watching soap operas (which is anything more than 5 minutes).
After months of “getting by” in the gym and PT, I was more than a bit frustrated but handling it amazingly well for me. Then I went to watch my boyfriend do an Ironman. [scary music here]. I found myself saying, “I could do this, all I have to do is learn to swim” [louder scary music].
As a kid I had plenty of swimming lessons but I never really got good at it. I could do the breast stroke until I was worn out but freestyle (the front crawl, it was called then) eluded me. In high school, I was asked to join the swim team but, disliking the coach, I went for track instead. What little I had for swimming was washed away.
And so it went that 10 months ago I started going to the pool with a friend and I took the plunge and signed up for an Ironman for my next birthday. I knew I had some significant challenges but as water goes… I was only seeing the tip of the iceberg. I had no trouble putting my face in the water but breathing was another issue. Total Immersion videos, a session with a coach, a lot of time in the pool with friends. It took months to be able to swim 50 meters without stopping and then I could do it only if I stood and gasped at the side for a few minutes afterward.
Why couldn’t this old dog be a labrador retreiver? Why did I have to be more like a cat than a dog when it comes to water? Was this why both of my last two dogs were terrified of the water? I kept trying. Slowly I was transitioning from a sinker to a bobber but forward motion is so much easier on land… and so is breathing. The temptation to go back to running was so strong.
Running is easy. Not in terms of physical exertion but in terms of what it asks of me; a pair of shoes; clothing appropriate to the weather; and a road, path, or trail. Even on those days when the motivation is low, it only takes a pair of shoes calling from the corner to get things started.
Swimming is not like that. Swimming requires laying myself bare to my anxieties and plunging myself into cold, unforgiving water. And then there are those wetsuit swims, the only way to swim outside in Colorado save those warmest of days in August. Just the idea of packing my body into a thick sausage casing which further restricts my breathing is cause for dread. None of it is absolute fear, just anxiety and dread, just conditions that get my inner voices chanting and calling out my weaknesses. I try to learn techniques to quiet the voices but there is nothing in the water to distract me. I’ve never been prone to anxiety but this, this took me over that edge.
Along about the end of May or early June, I finally managed to swim 100 meters at one go. It was a triumphant moment. It came none-too-soon as I had my first sprint tri coming up in a few short weeks. I pledged to increase my swims by 100 meters each day. The next was 250, then 500, then 1000. I knew I could get through the sprint.
But the day came for the sprint and when I started swimming, I swam 25 meters and couldn’t breathe again. I couldn’t seem to slow myself with people running over me and, in rushing, I grew anxious with each gasping breath. I swam the breast stroke with a little freestyle thrown in. I got through the swim and had a great time on the bike and run. The next week, I hired a coach.
The coach worked to repair my stroke. I was so lopsided; limping along in the water like a wounded seal. Within an hour, my stroke was much more even and I was propelling myself forward much better. I worked harder. I was convinced that this would get me where I needed to be. And I was liking it more; looking forward to my time in the pool.
My next tri was a relay. I would do 3 swims of about 400 meters. My first swim with months more experience under my belt, I panicked and swam breast stroke for 400 meters. Someone was zig zagging right in front of me and I just knew I’d run into her or get belted in the head by a stray hand or foot. Lap 2 was better with a fair bit of freestyle before I got short of breath and had to switch. And lap 3 was more than ¼ freestyle with alternating back and forth with breast stroke. Ten more laps and I just might figure it out. My ribs hurt but I got through it. I had more work to do.
I’ve had a lot of great swims since that tri. But today, I tried to psych myself up to go to the lake. The idea of putting on a wetsuit on a cool fallish day and jumping in that orange roped swim area felt like punishment. Why? Why can’t I have the excitement of the kids racing up and down my block on Razors when it comes to swimming? I want that kind of excitement about getting in the water. But no, it was punishment and not just any punishment but the terrible kind like when your Mom made you pick your own punishment. I was relieved to learn that the swimming area is closed for the season. Relieved and frustrated. Frustrated at the park for closing it when I have less than 2 months to train. Frustrated at myself for not taking advantage of it all summer and frustrated for being relieved that I couldn’t get in the lake today.
So, I went to the pool, much relieved. I swam. It was a good swim. Instead of beating myself up about my swimming ability, I beat myself up for being a weenie. Next week I’m going to reprogram my brain about swimming. I have an NLP session set up to address it. And I’m going to see if I can get some of that excitement back… so I can not only swim but be excited about running again instead of using it as rare “treat” that serves as a reward only if I swim.
This old dog is going to learn this new trick. It may be the hardest lesson I’ve ever learned but I’m going to get there!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
And Life goes On
Autumn did not saunter in
with her coat of many colors.
She did not dip her toe in
to test the temperature.
She stole a cloak from Winter
and jumped in with both bony feet,
settling greyness on top of the trees
and the grass
and the still vibrant bursts of zinnia.
Last night she tinged green tips with yellow
and yesterday, I saw the one tree
she is using to select this season’s shade of red.
Still the sunflower and cosmos tower
against the grey
as brilliant beacons
to call Indian Summer home.
Defiant colors
broadcast their protest to the dull sky
in green, red, orange, and purple.
Windows turn their light toward the garden
instead of warming the floor.
Autumn is making herself at home,
reluctantly invited
even into the kitchen,
she is stocking the pantry with the flavors of fall
and the stove with pots of warmth and comfort.
When Autumn touches the skin,
she is at once damp cold and fleecy warmth.
She inspires sleep and hunger and deep breaths
and lulls you into accepting her.
She plans to stay
until Winter discovers her closet is empty
and comes in a flurry
to find her cloak.
Then Autumn will gather up the last of Summer’s color
and run away as quickly as she came
chasing his heat to the south.
LB 9/11/08
with her coat of many colors.
She did not dip her toe in
to test the temperature.
She stole a cloak from Winter
and jumped in with both bony feet,
settling greyness on top of the trees
and the grass
and the still vibrant bursts of zinnia.
Last night she tinged green tips with yellow
and yesterday, I saw the one tree
she is using to select this season’s shade of red.
Still the sunflower and cosmos tower
against the grey
as brilliant beacons
to call Indian Summer home.
Defiant colors
broadcast their protest to the dull sky
in green, red, orange, and purple.
Windows turn their light toward the garden
instead of warming the floor.
Autumn is making herself at home,
reluctantly invited
even into the kitchen,
she is stocking the pantry with the flavors of fall
and the stove with pots of warmth and comfort.
When Autumn touches the skin,
she is at once damp cold and fleecy warmth.
She inspires sleep and hunger and deep breaths
and lulls you into accepting her.
She plans to stay
until Winter discovers her closet is empty
and comes in a flurry
to find her cloak.
Then Autumn will gather up the last of Summer’s color
and run away as quickly as she came
chasing his heat to the south.
LB 9/11/08
Monday, August 11, 2008
If I had to identify one of the most amazing things about my life, it would have to be the friends I've collected. I know, most people have good friends, but I consider myself especially blessed. I think I have more than my share of stellar people.
Today I am thinking a lot about a special friend who has blessed my life for only a handful of years. But in my world, he's big... he's Big Red.
Big Red Spicer is one of those larger than life characters. I've always described him as the "consummate southern gentleman." He's kind, sweet, handsome, and just a bit pig headed. When you have to fight the battles Big Red is fighting, being pig headed definitely helps you get by.
I first met Big Red when my friend Antje talked me into going to the Palo Duro Canyon 50 Mile and 50 K race. Red is the race director. The race is run in Palo Duro Canyon where virtually every trail is named after Red in some way.
Red welcomed me into his home on the weekend of the race. He woke me at 4:00 a.m. on his way to the race with a kiss. I hadn't even actually met him yet. But over the years I have grown to know that that loving nature is who Red is.
Red and I became fast friends. I have gone to the race every year since. I have also made countless visits to spend time with him and have taken several road trips with him as well.
Today Red is not well. He is trying very hard to recover from a nasty illness in an Amarillo hospital. For all the love I have for him, there is not much I can do save sending loving thoughts and prayers.
I love you Red. Heal quickly!
120 N SS Minnow
You thought those old guys on the SS Minnow bit off more than they could chew with their three hour tour…
We could use some of their ingenuiity on our adventure, although I think Guy may have most of that covered. If you are going to buy a project house, it is a good thing to do it with an Enginerd, though one with smaller feet might not be a bad idea.
120 N. Roosevelt hit the market on June 12th after its owner, Robert, worked a few college students nearly to death doing painting, cleaning, and other projects. Robert, it seems, was a bit of a eccentric recluse who taught at the Vet school at CSU. He did a lot of things to “upgrade” and remodel the house but definitely knew enough to be dangerous and not quite enough to do things quite to code. The students seemed to know a bit about paint but not much about cleaning.
We knew what we were buying but that doesn’t stop visions of that old movie, The Money Pit, from flitting through our dreams. Half of our stuff went into storage so we wouldn’t overload the garage we want to reroof and expand right off. The other half moved into the house with its nice wood floors, meticulous trim work, and a few other things that need a little work. All was well.
Guy started off on the pantry so I could unpack the food and keep us well fed. Two weeks into it, the pantry is still at the top of the list as other things have bounced on and off that list. Priorities change a bit as things show themselves to be what they are. We are nearly done sanding the shelves and the painting begins tomorrow.
Somehow, in the midst of doing the pantry we realized that we needed some place to do the laundry that was getting so dirty from all the construction work. So, Guy proceeded to demo the paneling around the furnace and water heater. He removed the basement stove and dishwasher and parked them in the driveway until someone who could use them would take them away. A “free” sign works wonders but a $10 sign is apparently better for making things disappear without a trace.
The counter got cut and the washer installed. Since neither of us is big on using the dryer, the clothsline was repaired instead of rewiring the dryer. The laundry fest began. Unfortunately, the drain wasn’t in the best condition, necessitating an urgent consult from a plumber. It seems, Fort Collins is home to a plumbing outfit who does everything on a “flat fee” basis. Mind you, it’s a rather inflated “flat” fee. They came out and looked… decided to snake the line, and promptly quoted a “flat fee” of about $450. Yikes! Guy called another plumber and got it snaked for about $100.
There is a bit more to be done but with the pending renovations, the basement will get a complete makeover.
On about our third day in the house, Guy was showering and picked up his foot to wash off the construction dust. He rested it on the soap dish in the shower. But the soap dish would have no part of his big feet and proceeded to throw itself violently off the wall, taking several tiles with it. Or, to be more exact, about 2 rows of tile nearly the length of the tub. Soap dish suicide is an ugly thing. Guy thought maybe we could put plastic up so we could keep using the shower. As he explained his theory, he leaned against another wall of the shower. The tiles quickly threw themselves into the tub as well. And so the demolition followed.
Fortunately, the house has two bathrooms. We knew the upstairs bath had a lot of water damage. The downstairs was old but in pretty good shape. Until Guy decided to wash his toesies again, that is.
We decided to remove the shower doors, since I don’t like them. But along with the shower doors went the tiles… deja voodoo. Fortunately, I spent many years in Texas and am handy with the universal tool. Soon, the shower was in working order again!
And meanwhile, the pantry work continues. But wait, there’s more.
Upstairs, we are using the old dining room (now part of the living room) as a bedroom while we wait to fix the bedroom floor. Said floor was covered with original 1970s harvest gold shag carpet… DO NOT try to imagine what kind of critters might be living in THAT! Guy valiantly ripped out the carpet to find… linoleum. This room used to be a kitchen, hence its proximity to the old dining room that is now part of the living room. Up came the linoleum and beneath it, tar paper. There’s a touch of gray paint in there somewhere too… but the room is awaiting a flooring guy to come fix it up. In the meantime, Guy decided to remove some of the old piping from the old kitchen, still in the old walls. This will leave an avenue to put in new wiring. I haven’tmentioned the wiring yet, have I?
Well, the wiring is a whole issue unto itself. The electrician thinks Guy has rescued us from the worst of it and that the rest can slowly be reworked as we go. It seems the previous homeowner had only enough knowledge to be EXTREMELY dangerous.
So then there’s the kitchen. Arguably, one of the most important rooms in the house. Well, that is because I like too cook and Guy likes to eat. Though he’s a pretty good cook and does owe me a home made dinner… due to a bet we had over this whole process… and he also owes me a home made tart due to another bet… but that is a different story.
The kitchen is ALMOST tolerable now that it’s a bit cleaned up. The dishwasher (hardwired in) went onto the driveway with all the other donatable appliances. The microwave (hardwired in) went onto the driveway… you get the idea. Now that our (clean) microwave is installed and the space which once held the dishwasher gives us a place for the trash and recycling, the kitchen is useable for such things as… well, cooking… making gazpacho, iced teas, and apparently, vodka drinks…
The dining room awaits the completion of the pantry. It will then be unpacked and set up for use. For now, we eat meals at the coffee table. The primary cooking area is actually the patio… on which sits one of the grills… It has been in the mid 90s for most of the duration of this phase of the project. Turning on heat producing appliances is not an option.
The patio, is not just for grilling though. It’s for shade. It’s for drinking a beer in the evening. It’s for… what the heck! This is Colorado?! Where did these mosquitos come from?
Installment one… more to come! Or what is a project but an excuse to buy new tools…
We could use some of their ingenuiity on our adventure, although I think Guy may have most of that covered. If you are going to buy a project house, it is a good thing to do it with an Enginerd, though one with smaller feet might not be a bad idea.
120 N. Roosevelt hit the market on June 12th after its owner, Robert, worked a few college students nearly to death doing painting, cleaning, and other projects. Robert, it seems, was a bit of a eccentric recluse who taught at the Vet school at CSU. He did a lot of things to “upgrade” and remodel the house but definitely knew enough to be dangerous and not quite enough to do things quite to code. The students seemed to know a bit about paint but not much about cleaning.
We knew what we were buying but that doesn’t stop visions of that old movie, The Money Pit, from flitting through our dreams. Half of our stuff went into storage so we wouldn’t overload the garage we want to reroof and expand right off. The other half moved into the house with its nice wood floors, meticulous trim work, and a few other things that need a little work. All was well.
Guy started off on the pantry so I could unpack the food and keep us well fed. Two weeks into it, the pantry is still at the top of the list as other things have bounced on and off that list. Priorities change a bit as things show themselves to be what they are. We are nearly done sanding the shelves and the painting begins tomorrow.
Somehow, in the midst of doing the pantry we realized that we needed some place to do the laundry that was getting so dirty from all the construction work. So, Guy proceeded to demo the paneling around the furnace and water heater. He removed the basement stove and dishwasher and parked them in the driveway until someone who could use them would take them away. A “free” sign works wonders but a $10 sign is apparently better for making things disappear without a trace.
The counter got cut and the washer installed. Since neither of us is big on using the dryer, the clothsline was repaired instead of rewiring the dryer. The laundry fest began. Unfortunately, the drain wasn’t in the best condition, necessitating an urgent consult from a plumber. It seems, Fort Collins is home to a plumbing outfit who does everything on a “flat fee” basis. Mind you, it’s a rather inflated “flat” fee. They came out and looked… decided to snake the line, and promptly quoted a “flat fee” of about $450. Yikes! Guy called another plumber and got it snaked for about $100.
There is a bit more to be done but with the pending renovations, the basement will get a complete makeover.
On about our third day in the house, Guy was showering and picked up his foot to wash off the construction dust. He rested it on the soap dish in the shower. But the soap dish would have no part of his big feet and proceeded to throw itself violently off the wall, taking several tiles with it. Or, to be more exact, about 2 rows of tile nearly the length of the tub. Soap dish suicide is an ugly thing. Guy thought maybe we could put plastic up so we could keep using the shower. As he explained his theory, he leaned against another wall of the shower. The tiles quickly threw themselves into the tub as well. And so the demolition followed.
Fortunately, the house has two bathrooms. We knew the upstairs bath had a lot of water damage. The downstairs was old but in pretty good shape. Until Guy decided to wash his toesies again, that is.
We decided to remove the shower doors, since I don’t like them. But along with the shower doors went the tiles… deja voodoo. Fortunately, I spent many years in Texas and am handy with the universal tool. Soon, the shower was in working order again!
And meanwhile, the pantry work continues. But wait, there’s more.
Upstairs, we are using the old dining room (now part of the living room) as a bedroom while we wait to fix the bedroom floor. Said floor was covered with original 1970s harvest gold shag carpet… DO NOT try to imagine what kind of critters might be living in THAT! Guy valiantly ripped out the carpet to find… linoleum. This room used to be a kitchen, hence its proximity to the old dining room that is now part of the living room. Up came the linoleum and beneath it, tar paper. There’s a touch of gray paint in there somewhere too… but the room is awaiting a flooring guy to come fix it up. In the meantime, Guy decided to remove some of the old piping from the old kitchen, still in the old walls. This will leave an avenue to put in new wiring. I haven’tmentioned the wiring yet, have I?
Well, the wiring is a whole issue unto itself. The electrician thinks Guy has rescued us from the worst of it and that the rest can slowly be reworked as we go. It seems the previous homeowner had only enough knowledge to be EXTREMELY dangerous.
So then there’s the kitchen. Arguably, one of the most important rooms in the house. Well, that is because I like too cook and Guy likes to eat. Though he’s a pretty good cook and does owe me a home made dinner… due to a bet we had over this whole process… and he also owes me a home made tart due to another bet… but that is a different story.
The kitchen is ALMOST tolerable now that it’s a bit cleaned up. The dishwasher (hardwired in) went onto the driveway with all the other donatable appliances. The microwave (hardwired in) went onto the driveway… you get the idea. Now that our (clean) microwave is installed and the space which once held the dishwasher gives us a place for the trash and recycling, the kitchen is useable for such things as… well, cooking… making gazpacho, iced teas, and apparently, vodka drinks…
The dining room awaits the completion of the pantry. It will then be unpacked and set up for use. For now, we eat meals at the coffee table. The primary cooking area is actually the patio… on which sits one of the grills… It has been in the mid 90s for most of the duration of this phase of the project. Turning on heat producing appliances is not an option.
The patio, is not just for grilling though. It’s for shade. It’s for drinking a beer in the evening. It’s for… what the heck! This is Colorado?! Where did these mosquitos come from?
Installment one… more to come! Or what is a project but an excuse to buy new tools…
Monday, July 14, 2008
It takes all kinds
It's an interesting world we live in. For many years I've heard, "it takes all kinds" in tones ranging from amusement to amazement to disgust. But the reality is, it does take all kinds.
I'm trying to buy a home. Goodness knows, if I had to do all that wheeling and dealing with lenders and financing BS, I'd be a screaming mimi (apologies to Mimis everywhere). I'm sick today. In keeping with "physician heal thyself," I'm laying on the sofa drinking juice and intermittently putting ice on my sinuses. I also went to see my PT and friend Serene for a cranial treatment. And then I stopped by Starbucks to have the neighborhood barista make an icey slush to ice my brain from the inside.
It takes all kinds. Without all these different people, my day would have come to a screeching halt or might not have gotten started at all. And I've barely touched the surface of all the people I've worked with today in the short time I've been out of my living room.
I got an email from a friend inviting me to her husband's birthday party. This gave me a chance to ask her about the cancer I'd heard she had. She told me the story. Her cancer was curable and came with a gift, a closeness to her family and appreciation for life she didn't have before.
My neighbors are severely burned. They were injured in separate incidents. One accidental and one intentional. When I walk by their house the only thing I notice is all the love... the love for each other, the love they pour out to all their friends (luckily myself included), and the love grown into the huge sunflowers and tiny roses blooming all over the yard. Tucked between the swiss chard and beet tops there are no weeds, only love. and then there are the strawberries ripening on the bush... "that's the one we planted for the neighbors to eat..." I realized the other day that I see their scars less and less every day. What I see is their smiles, their happiness, and their will to live.
And here I am, sitting in my rental house in Colorado.... waiting to move into a lovely little house with the love of my life. When my life is a hurricane, he is the peace at the eye of the storm. So blessed every day with a chance to help people feel just a little better or have hope about what they are facing. Blessed by great friends and good times. Blessed by all kinds, and just enough chaos to remind me to appreciate it.
I'm trying to buy a home. Goodness knows, if I had to do all that wheeling and dealing with lenders and financing BS, I'd be a screaming mimi (apologies to Mimis everywhere). I'm sick today. In keeping with "physician heal thyself," I'm laying on the sofa drinking juice and intermittently putting ice on my sinuses. I also went to see my PT and friend Serene for a cranial treatment. And then I stopped by Starbucks to have the neighborhood barista make an icey slush to ice my brain from the inside.
It takes all kinds. Without all these different people, my day would have come to a screeching halt or might not have gotten started at all. And I've barely touched the surface of all the people I've worked with today in the short time I've been out of my living room.
I got an email from a friend inviting me to her husband's birthday party. This gave me a chance to ask her about the cancer I'd heard she had. She told me the story. Her cancer was curable and came with a gift, a closeness to her family and appreciation for life she didn't have before.
My neighbors are severely burned. They were injured in separate incidents. One accidental and one intentional. When I walk by their house the only thing I notice is all the love... the love for each other, the love they pour out to all their friends (luckily myself included), and the love grown into the huge sunflowers and tiny roses blooming all over the yard. Tucked between the swiss chard and beet tops there are no weeds, only love. and then there are the strawberries ripening on the bush... "that's the one we planted for the neighbors to eat..." I realized the other day that I see their scars less and less every day. What I see is their smiles, their happiness, and their will to live.
And here I am, sitting in my rental house in Colorado.... waiting to move into a lovely little house with the love of my life. When my life is a hurricane, he is the peace at the eye of the storm. So blessed every day with a chance to help people feel just a little better or have hope about what they are facing. Blessed by great friends and good times. Blessed by all kinds, and just enough chaos to remind me to appreciate it.
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