Fantasmo

Why Not?

2012-02-01T09:47:00.011-05:00

Whoo boy was yesterday a doozie. You can see for yourself down below. All I can say is, thank goodness I have a goofy husband whose mission is to make me laugh or smile every day. And I'm even more grateful that he can usually pull it off. That aside, I've decided to focus on a Life List. Some may call it a bucket list, but I think I'd like mine to be allowed to have a little more whimsy and maybe even some big goals. The going rate out on the internets is to have 100 things on your list, but this is just to get me started:

Go on our long-lost honeymoon. Finally.
Take Ava on a trip long enough to involve a plane.
Run another marathon.
Win my age group in a 5K, 10K or 15K. Doesn't matter, just win and hopefully before I'm 80 and the competition is non-existent.
Bake 52 pies in one year.
Master growing a vegetable garden.
Learn to surf.
See the Alps again, only this time with Rick and Ava.
A bicycle trip across the country. Or even just 1000 miles.
Make a painting worth selling. Sell it.
Host an exchange student. (Yes, this is me totally paying it forward.)
Do something big just for charity.
Donate blood regularly. I've never done this before and this runner's blood of mine has to be good for something.
Learn Spanish.
Visit every state I've never been to. This is most of the northern part of the East and West coasts, and the Gulf coast plus a few others here and there.
Brush up on my French and go to Montreal.
Why not? How about France too.
Own a sailboat. And, duh, use it.
Go to Turkey to see Pamukkale - really cool natural rock formations made by warm mineral springs.
Have a perfectly trained dog. We're talking K9 unit type of discipline.
NO credits cards ever again. Or at least have the platinum gold diamond unicorn level card, but never use it. Hahahaha suckers!
Be proficient in the half-pipe on a snowboard. Or skis, but let's face it, I may never go back.
Double black diamonds on a snowboard, on a power day in the mountains.
Own a clawfoot tub. Use it.
Host a full-blown dinner party.
Go swimming on my lunch break for as many days as possible in one summer.
Have a closet of dresses for every season.
Create an online portfolio that I'm proud of - updated résumé included.
Write and illustrate a book.
Create a catalog of ALL my photos.
Get a dog and run with it every day.
Go on an extended road trip with Rick and Ava.
Lose my mind and buy a brand new, fully-pimped out, made to order Subaru. Pay cash.
Go to any sort of art camp.
Knit myself a sweater.
Buy a ridiculously beautiful, heirloom-worthy piece of jewelry. Eventually give it to Ava.
Figure out how to wear navy blue without looking like a grandma.
Finish reading my list of 100 classics.
Organize all of my closets and garage - with a system that lasts.
Be able to write a $1000 check to ten charities or a $10,000 check to one. More if I can.
Go to Ireland and have a real Irish whiskey in my grandma's name.
Join the track club and not be a sissy about it.
Coach a youth track team.
Can enough fruits and vegetables to fill my pantry.
Learn how to navigate with only a map and compass. Again.
Go whitewater rafting.
Try the best sushi in Japan.
Enter a pie baking contest.
Kayak along the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.
Learn how to scuba dive.
Get that fancy camera by saving for it.
Put Ava through college.
Drink wine at a villa in Tuscany.
Try bikram yoga.
Be a volunteer for a running race.
This one seems crazy given the size of our lot, but I want a pool in my backyard.
Raise bees or hens.
Ride an elephant in India.
Build the perfect desk for our home office.
Knit/crochet 100 hats for sick babies.
Be able to wear a 2 piece bikini again and be proud.
Be more flexible in the literal sense.
Get a professional massage.
See what a spa day is all about.
Take Ava camping.
Get a financial portfolio.
Have a real retirement plan.
Write a will.
Paint a mural.
Go cliff jumping.
Try rock climbing.
Go on a yoga retreat.
Make 5 new lasting friends.
Make a huge endowment to the arts.
Start a business.
Take Ava horseback riding.
Go on an extended camping trip that requires hiking in.
Drink more water.
Try any new vegetable that I've never been bold enough to buy. Shockingly there are more of these than I care to admit.
Compliment people more often.
See Carnival in Rio.
Pick 10 restaurants that I have seen on Food Network/Travel Channel and eat at them.
Finish my college degree.
Hang real art on my walls. Not just my own.
Fix every single thing in our house that the previous owners did incorrectly.
Brew beer from our very own recipe - have it be potable.
Drive to Alaska through Canada.
Be the life of a party.
Make a cookbook of only my recipes.
Buy one pair of designer label high heels.
Adopt a shelter dog.
Have professional headshots taken.
Taste real Kona coffee straight from the plantation.
Bake somebody's wedding cake, fancy frosting and all.
Give an inspiring speech (we all need to sweat now and then, don't we?)
Take a photography vacation in Thailand.
Have a garden party at night like you see in photos.
See the Amazon.
Make my own smoked sausage.
Go back to Denmark someday.

100 things feels like a nice round number, and since some of my items seem a little far fetched I reserve the right to add or subtract any time I want. Besides, what fun is a life list if it doesn't change as I change. Mopey blahs have been getting me down as of late, and this little exercise has proven to be quite uplifting. You should try it!

It has also shown just how much I like to be around my family. I mean just look at half of the items up there that involve Rick or Ava. At the end of the day, even if none of these list items get crossed off, at least I'll have been with them all along and really that's all that matters.

Tooth and Nail

2012-01-30T14:24:00.000-05:00

I can't really say that I'm an envious person.

Maybe, I should elaborate a little. Lately, life has been like a muddy downhill slide. Like a really not fun steeple chase where it's nothing but cold, slogging mud, uphill both ways. I claw and claw my way upward making slow headway, but I'm still back sliding. Or maybe a more accurate analogy for my anxiety would be careening down Alice's rabbit with no idea of a landing. Actually, it's all of the above. I'm clinging on for dear life and all the while life keeps falling out from under me. Depressing, right? Half the battle has been to keep my feelings above the fray and to not let my spirit get beaten down.

It is no surprise that I have taken to exercising like a fiend. The endorphins kind of relieve the stress, the exhaustion helps for the insomnia, and it is about the one thing I have control over. Yet, the chaos feels like too much. At what point do you just surrender to the crap storm and let things fall apart? Does the crest of that mud mountain ever come into view?

I keep telling myself to suck it up and do the best I can, but today is one of those days when it just feels too big. Tears are only one concerned person's look away. So to come to the realization that all of your coworkers can afford a nice, long and exotic vacation, it's kind of heartbreaking. It's not that I wish them ill, it just serves as a crushing reminder of your own bad luck and ill-formed decisions. If any family could use a nice reprieve from the norm, it would be us.

It's not envy of other people that I harbor, although that's what it feels like at first. It's more like a really big sadness. Frustration over why we never can seem to get our shit together. Anger over never reaching any of our small goals. Hurt that life has had nothing but lemons when we try SO DAMN HARD. More frustration because I can't ever figure out what we're doing wrong while everybody else keeps racing ahead of us. It's enough to make one want to throw their arms up in the air and just give up. I can completely understand why so many seemingly well-off people can just fall through the cracks. This is also why you won't see me judging those Occupiers - I understand their frustration.

At the end of the day, I just sigh and hope that maybe tomorrow doesn't feel so epic in the wrong kind of way. I move forward because, really, there's not much else you can do. And hopefully after a few more tomorrows, things finally get better.

Until then the trick is to just find the patience.

Word of 2012

2012-01-11T11:47:00.000-05:00

Does this look vaguely familiar? It should since I came up with these as my working goals for 2010. But, 2010 was two years ago, you say? Yes, it was because that's how long it took me to get around to making most of this list happen. Some things I will always have to resolve to do better just because it is a lifelong commitmen t. I am happy to report that I did get myself a website, some cards and even that new lens. I now have a savings account, and while filling it has been quite comical I'm forging on with the hopes that someday it's balance will be bigger. And that last goal of not focusing on hating whatever, has proven to have a calming effect on me. It really turned into a lesson of letting things go, which I tend to do much more now.

Back those two, long years ago, I chose "focus" as my word of the year. At the time it seemed like a good choice, because I have a tendency to flounder around on just about everything. I can be so darn wishy-washy all the way up to when I finally make a decision, but thankfully once that moment comes, it is full steam ahead. I totally commit. The catch (and this is a big one) is knowing what direction to aim decision making and commitment. Again, I totally flounder - my piscean curse. Which is where this year's word comes into play: Direction.

This may seem glaringly obvious, but how can you know which way to direct your focus when you haven't fully explored the options? I would never buy a car without test-driving it so why would I follow a daydream without trying it on for size? So while "direction" feels like a very unilateral word and doesn't quite fit with variety, it will be in the back of my mind for the year because I will be trying many directions. Like #1 says, "Try EVERYTHING - Figure out what it is I love, don't love, just sort of like."

This means I will continue to pursue my photography, always keep designing, but also try to reinvest in all of those other things that I used to do, such as painting. For a little while I will pick a direction, go with it, and really learn what it is I like or don't like about it. This is a year of exploration for me. 2010 was the year that I decided I wanted to begin my journey, but I left the dock without a compass. Now to find that darn compass!

I'm glad for the resolutions that I made in these last two years because I surprisingly took them to heart and made some changes for the better. It is interesting how if you put a goal on paper and then carry it around with you, how much you will try to honor that goal. Let's see how 2012 pans out, shall we? Maybe this year I can put a check mark next to all 6 items. 2011 was an especially difficult year for us, but I'm not letting my optimism for the new year be overshadowed by disappointment. Tally-ho, I say!!!

The Man I Married

2011-12-08T09:34:00.000-05:00

I think the best way to describe myself sometimes, is as a tiny little goldfish in a very large stream. My emotions can be pushed strongly in one direction or another by the current of life. I'm sure that can be said for just about everybody, but I believe that mine tend to run a bit stronger. So when life starts to hand me lemons, it takes a monumental effort on my part to not fall into a pit of depression. I'm not bi-polar, just very sensitive. So in light of the crap-fest for which fate has decided was my turn, I'm picking one thing today that I am grateful for.

I married a man who can never seem to hold a grudge and will always look past the faults of another person. He can never seem to stay mad at a person who has wronged him and will almost always give them the benefit of a doubt. This can drive me crazy sometimes because I feel he gets pushed over on occasion. I have learned that I am wrong in this regard, and I am always impressed by his nature to forgive.

I married a man whose one weakness is to have very hot temper and is quick to spout off once in awhile. BUT, I think it is because he is a passionate man in all ways and you can't have hot without the cold. He is never afraid to apologize even if he isn't at fault (I can drive him equally crazy) and he is perhaps the most humble person I know. Another lesson that I have learned from him: It is always better to apologize than to hold on to that grudge/self-righteousness/fear/anger.

I married a man who has very strong opinions and isn't afraid to say them out loud. I think this can shock some people and they might call him bull-headed at first. But the great thing about my man is that he can change his mind. For all his boisterous personality, he listens and if something strikes him, he will change. My man is not set in stone and I know that this will allow us to always grow together.

I married a man who always tries to make my life better. He offers to get a glass of water, maybe a blanket, or perhaps even just a laugh. The fact that he pays attention to me and how I'm feeling on a day-to-day basis, that alone is a pretty good basis for a healthy marriage. My man makes me laugh and smile EVERY day. Yes, even the bad ones. He always encourages me to do the things that make me happy and is never selfish. If I get hair-brained ideas to which there many, my man is my biggest cheerleader. He thinks I can do anything even when I don't believe in myself.

I married a man who is funny. You always hear the cliche of a single person looking for someone with a great sense of humor, and I think there is a good reason it is cliche. Due to my man's nature to want to make everyone laugh, he is an extremely upbeat guy. Bad moods and sour attitudes never last long in our house because my man just can't go that long being a negative person. In turn, neither can the rest of us.

I married a man who loves fiercely, and with all of the above qualities he is the best friend I could ever have. I think it goes without saying, that if he treats me like gold, he treats our daughter like platinum. So while life tumbles around us and is hurling rocks, together we are able to stand pretty solid, and for that I am pretty grateful.

My man Rick, is a wonderful husband and father...And I married him.

Just Following the Trend

2011-11-18T12:35:00.001-05:00

If you are anywhere on the internets, then you have inevitably seen some variation of the old British sign. At first they were clever, but now they seem tired and overdone. So much so, I felt compelled to add to the fray. Oh sweet irony.

Feel free to save and pass around.

Sauerkraut

2011-11-09T08:53:00.010-05:00

At the risk of fantasmo morphing into a food blog, I have yet another yum-yum to share. Yes, I did just type yum-yum. Aaaand I was also sick of staring at an empty mug. It was becoming too symbolic and so now it is getting shoved down.

Moving on. What do you do with a partially used head of cabbage, a smoked sausage and absolutely no motivation to do anything complicated? You wish you had some store-bought sauerkraut and then you sit and pout because you don't. Then you suck it up and say, how hard can it be to make it? Answer: not hard at all.

What you will need:

1/2 head of cabbage
1 medium onion
1 apple
5 small white potatoes
3-4 strips bacon
1 whole smoked sausage
1 cup vinegar
1 to 2 cups water or stock
salt
pepper
1/2 tsp. garlic powder
1 1/2 tsp. sugar
1/2 tsp. caraway seeds (optional)

To make:

Chop the cabbage and onion into fine strips. Finely dice the apple, and cube the potatoes in to bite-size chunks. Mince the raw bacon and cut up your sausage. In a large pan brown the bacon and sausage, then remove from pan and set aside. Using the same pan, add the cabbage, onions and apple. Salt and pepper to taste and brown for approximately 5 minutes over medium high heat. Add the vinegar and 1 cup of stock to deglaze the bottom of the pan. Let simmer for another five minutes then add in your potatoes and remaining ingredients. Cover and let simmer, stirring occasionally for 30 minutes or until the potatoes and cabbage have started to soften. Mix the sausage and bacon back in, and add more stock/water if the mixture is getting too dry. Cover again and let simmer until the potatoes have completely cooked through. Take off the lid and let the extra moisture cook off (this shouldn't take very long).

Serve and enjoy! I found the sauerkraut still had that staple zing, but the flavor was so much more complex than the traditional fermented kind. The bacon and apple bring a smoky sweetness to the show. Ava cleaned her plate, and if you can get an eight-year-old to polish off sour cabbage in addition to mauling the sausage, you know you have a winner!

Hot Chocolate

2011-10-19T10:59:00.000-05:00

I can't take any credit for this recipe. It is Alton Brown's from the Food Network, but it passed my taste test and I thought I would share (with my own little tweaks, of course). I wanted a good mix to keep on hand at work as an alternate to our company ~~sludge~~ errr coffee. It's pretty tasty mixed with hot water and I imagine it would be downright indulgent with hot milk.

I cut the recipe in half so that it would fit in a medium size tupperware for work.

   1 cup powdered sugar
   1/2 cup cocoa (Hershey's Special Dark)
   1 1/4 cups powdered milk
   1/2 teaspoon salt
   1 tiny pinch cayenne pepper
   1 pinch cinnamon

Mix everything very well. It can be stored indefinitely in an airtight container. I used 4 heaping spoonfuls for one standard coffee cup. To jazz up a cup of sludge, (oops!) mix in 2 teaspoonfuls and enjoy!

Aquarium Dreams

2011-10-14T17:01:00.000-05:00

In recent years, whenever I get stressed out or have high anxiety over one aspect of my life, I dream about aquariums. More accurately, about the care of aquariums. In real life, we have a 55 gallon fish tank in our living room that bubbles along nicely and our fish live long and happy lives. Guests love to stare at our fish, and we enjoy having them as well. However, in my dreams when I see a fish tank I know something is not going to end well.

Often, the scenario is one that is going badly. Fish are jumping out and I can't get them back in the tank quickly enough. Or perhaps, the glass is cracking and I have to somehow save the fish before it's too late. Or maybe the tank is enormous like something from SeaWorld and the care of it is simply too overwhelming. Either way, it doesn't take a psychiatrist to figure out that when I have aquarium dreams, they represent something in my life that I have no control over and am frustrated by.

I don't want to get too deep on my most recent aquarium dream, but I do know what it represents and I feel like I need to put this out into the world just so that I can finally let it go. A friend of ours recently hurt Rick's feelings and kind of betrayed my trust and left Rick and I no choice but to cut ties. It left us in an awkward position where we will lose other friends because we won't be around to explain our sudden absence. But we can't be around because we'd have to explain things that would be incriminating to the person that wronged us and would basically cause a domino effect of yuckitude that would hurt some of those other friends in the process (his actions, not ours). We just don't want to be those people.

I know this is all so vague, but bottom line is we lost some very cool friends. I know the one guy thinks we have over-reacted and it was all just a "joke," but I believe his own pride will never bring forth an apology. Meanwhile, everyone thinks we have gone AWOL for no good reason, and I can't imagine ex-friend has a very nice explanation for it either. All it would take is just one "I'm sorry" and we'd willingly sweep it all under the rug. But he'll never say it, and it's just a shame all around.

Sorry friends. Sorry fish.

Whoa Nelly!

2011-10-06T19:51:00.003-05:00

Looks like somebody got a little bored. Nothing like jackhammering code into doing what you want it to do. Sort of, but it's close enough to good that I'm willing to let the dust settle on the new digs for awhile.

I wanted something fresh, simple, and with REALLY big pictures. See?

I also ditched the old "fantasmo" styling for something a little chunkier. The old one treated me well, but it felt right to update the old personal brand. And since nothing says, "fresh" like the color green, well... Enough said. Do I dare tell you where the vintage floral pattern came from? This could be embarrassing to some, but I'm kind of proud to admit, that I took the pattern directly from my old baby blanket. My grandma had good taste, although I don't think it had the vintage feel back when she picked it out It does now though!

So there you have it, fantasmo is a fresh kind of vintage. That baby sweater up there is bound for a baby that is due to be here any day. I kind wish that it could have fit me!

My Mac & Cheese

2011-10-03T08:13:00.001-05:00

I can't say that macaroni and cheese is my favorite meal. I know some people are fanatic about it, and absolutely lose their minds over who has the best homemade dish. Sure, I can enjoy a little scoop on the side, and of course I have had many a boxed meal as a kid, but on the whole it's not one of my absolute faves.

Lately, I have started to re-evaluate foods that I previously thought were disgusting or maybe just okay. I have been buying the things that I would normally avoid and have been cooking them in a way that appeals to my own senses. For many years, I thought eggplant was slimy and disgusting. Come to find out that the person who first cooked it for me, simply picked a bad eggplant and then cooked it to death. Deady, dead, dead, Death. No wonder I thought I hated it. I bit the bullet, found a recipe that sounded reliable and gave eggplant a whirl. We all loved it.

So while I don't hate mac 'n' cheese, I wondered if just noodles and cheese couldn't use a little improvement. I'm no chef, but the results kind of surprised us all. Try it for yourself and let me know what you think of it.

Look! Even the cold leftovers are delicious! (Not that I took a giant mouthful of cold noodles. Nope I didn't. Yes I did.)

Ingredients:

1 small to medium white onion - minced
2 ham steaks - cubed
3 to 4 slices of bacon - minced
2 to 4 marinated artichoke hearts - chopped
3 cups shredded cheddar (set aside 1 cup for cheese sauce)
1 cup shredded asiago (set aside 1/3 cup for topping)
Italian bread crumbs
1/2 lb. elbow macaroni noodles

Cheese Sauce:
3 Tbs. butter
3 Tbs. flour
1 cup milk
1 cup whipping cream
1 cup shredded cheddar
1 tsp. powdered garlic
1 tsp. hot sauce (I use Frank's)
1 tsp. mustard
1/4 tsp. cumin
1/4 tsp. smoked paprika
1/4 tsp. turmeric
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. pepper

Preheat your oven to 375° F. In a pan brown the ham, bacon and onions with a pat of butter until caramelized then transfer to a very large bowl. Boil the macaroni noodles to not quite al dente - leave them a little harder than you would like to eat them. Drain completely and also add to the large bowl.

Start your cheese sauce: In a sauce pan over medium heat whisk the butter and flour. You are starting a basic béchamel sauce. When it is smooth and bubbly slowy begin to whisk in the milk. Whisk until it is smooth and thick, then you may add in the 1 cup of the cheddar and other ingredients of sauce except the whipping cream. Add the cream once all of the cheddar is fully melted. The sauce should be nice and creamy but not too thick.

In the large bowl toss the remaining shredded cheese and artichokes with the sautéed ingredients, noodles and the cheese sauce. Transfer to a large casserole dish. I used my 2 1/2 qt. oval Corningware dish and it fit perfectly. Sprinkle the 1/3 cup of asiago that was set aside over the top and then sprinkle a generous amount of bread crumbs to completely cover. Salt and Pepper to taste.

Bake uncovered in the oven for 45 minutes or until brown and bubbly. Serve and enjoy!

Nothing to See Here

2011-08-31T07:45:00.001-05:00

Life around these parts is easy for a poor family like us. We work hard, dodge the tourists and when the day is over we get to enjoy the after hours at places like this. It's going to be a little more difficult to do so now that my family's hometown has been voted the Most Beautiful Place in America.

It was only a matter of time before our best kept secret was blown wide open. I'm pretty sure we can grudgingly share. SO LONG AS the rest of you visitors pick up after yourselves and play nicely!

Time to Bet on Me

2011-08-23T10:02:00.002-05:00

I have been sitting on this until it was "just right," until I could pick the upgraded version, until I had the business cards, until, until, until. It dawned on me that there are far less talented people out there doing what they want to do, and the only difference between me and them is their willingness to leap. So with that, I double checked my spelling and I hit publish.

I don't know if anything will ever come of my photography and I think I'm okay with that. At the end of the day, I take pictures for me and if someone wants a piece of that then that's okay too.

I make things and I'm finding that I like to make lots of different kinds of things. I kind of feel like my days of designing may be starting to take a back seat to the other things I would like to do. I'm not about to up and quit my day job, but that exciting fun feeling doesn't exist anymore, while my daydreams make my heart flitter-flatter. Or more accurately the daydream of actually living out those daydreams gets me excited. The possibility of "could be." I can't say that I haven't been tempted into making serious inquiries into other ideas.

Now to go pack that parachute and just leap.

This Summer

2011-07-26T12:51:00.000-05:00

This summer has been all about shirking all adult responsibility and running wild and free. Clothes sit in piles, dust collects on tables and the floor is a tad extra gritty with beach sand from our towels. Our normally tidy home could give a frat house a run for its money. On second thought, no, our home could never get that gross, BUT the breeze does blow through an empty lonely home because we are almost never there.

Next week Rick and I start our "vacation" which I like to think of more as a "home-improvementcation" because for once we will be addressing our long neglected duties. Replacing floors, painting walls, giving surfaces deep scrubs - and hopefully a little rogue beach going as well. Despite the long list of to-dos that we have backed ourselves into, so far it has been all worth it.

My Crust is Better than Your Crust

2011-06-17T14:12:00.000-05:00

Today is the sort of day when I think about chucking it all and opening a tiny pie shop. Why be poor and stressed when you can be poor and smell like cinnamon all day?

Spring Baby

2011-05-25T09:46:00.003-05:00

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Finally

2011-05-17T16:06:00.001-05:00

Last Year

2011-05-04T07:20:00.000-05:00

I took this photo on April 27th last year. As of yet, looking outside my tree-level window at work, the buds are quietly keeping to themselves. They're waiting for the cold to lift just like I am. I think I took our extremely long winter in stride, but if a warm front doesn't roll around soon, I think I may lose it.

This particular spring has been trying to teach me patience. It's not working very well.

40 Hours a Week

2011-04-04T13:32:00.000-05:00

A Casual Conversation between Cubemates.

Holly: "Did you know that you can harvest your cat's fur and make yarn?"

Amber: "Yes. Although I think, technically you can harvest dog fur too. You know what Angora is, right? It's bunnies."

Holly: "I'm going to knit a purse out my cat's fur when she dies."

Amber: "No. You would totally have to harvest for years...Wait! Your cat's fur isn't long enough."

Holly: HAHAHA "I know."

Amber: " I should harvest Fergus' fur and knit him his own doggy sweater."

Holly: "You should totally do that! That would be like harvesting your own skin to make a skin suit!"

Amber: "No, that would be more like harvesting your own hair to make yourself a wig."

Both: Dying of laughter at the crazy.

I promise neither one of us are creepy in real life, but after 5 years of 40+ hours a week together, conversations cover a lot of ground.

Fat Tuesday. And Wednesday. And Thursday.

2011-03-11T08:45:00.000-05:00

In January, cutting back to 1200 calories a day was kind of a shock to my carb loving metabolism. I won't lie, those first couple of weeks were kind of a drag when I would tally up my daily calories and see how far over the limit I would be if I had kept to my previous eating habits. When I made the decision to really put my mind to getting healthy I knew what I was in for, but that didn't make the reality of the sacrifice any less daunting.

Being held accountable for what you stuff into your maw kind of makes it easier to make the right choices. For example, if I know that I'm getting awfully close to my daily limit and it's too late in the night to run off even more calories, it is easier to say "no!" to that cookie taunting me in the cupboard. Even just this past Tuesday (and Wednesday - geez people) when co-workers brought in paczkis for Mardi Gras, I was able to walk by the doughnut box without a second glance because I knew that I wouldn't want to starve for lunch. Which is exactly what I would have to do if I scarfed down a couple hundred calories of the glazed, jelly-filled variety.

All of this focused restraint has rewarded me well. The ounces steadily fell off and I was making progress. It was exciting to step on the bathroom scale every morning and see that I was actually getting somewhere. And Then It Stopped. I have hit the dreaded plateau. I knew that this moment would come, but I hadn't expected it after a mere ten pounds. I'm still so very far from my weight loss goal and I honestly thought that the last FIVE pounds were going to be my Everest. I can choose to look at the hiccup in my plans in a negative light, but really why bother? What this stall in progress really means is that I'm much healthier than I was 2 months ago. The reason I'm not losing any weight is because those daily 3 miles no longer challenge my body. I can't sacrifice any calories unless I want to be anorexic, so this means I have to rise to the challenge and amp up my training. While this sounds good in theory, in actuality it may be more of a challenge due to constant flux of arctic bitter cold, and taunting balmy melt-off that is March in Northern Michigan. This means so many more hours on the treadmill - groan. But it will all be worth it, right?!

Hello, My Name is Amber

2011-02-25T11:04:00.001-05:00

And I have curly hair.

Phew, that was tough. No really, it was because, you see, for many years my hair has been slowly going through a de-evolution. Or, rather, my understanding of it has. Stick with me because all this boring hair talk is going to get to a point.

My dad's hair (when he had some - hahahahahaha) is tight and curly just like all of his siblings. They were the whitest family on the block that could grow the baddest afros you ever did see. My mom's hair is straight and with a lot less personality but oh so much more manageable. As a kid, I thought my hair fell more to my mom's side only with a stubborn tenacity to wave and cowlick in strange directions with a mind of its own. My hair would be washed almost daily, brushed into submission or pulled back as though it was straight hair. This kind of "Eh, my hair is annoying" but still brushed straight while it was wet routine went on for years.

It wasn't until my late teens when I hacked all of my hair off that I began to realize that maybe those annoying cowlicks were maybe more like the beginning swirls of curls. My little sisters had curly hair, so why didn't I? I did have the family curls, I was just too stuck in my way of thinking that it was straight. Slowly, I began to brush less and let me hair go free and lo, my curls began to form. But I was a total noob when it came to understanding what to do for my hair and to how make it happy. It doesn't feel that much different than puzzling over how to make a garden grow. Naturally, I thought that the most expensive salon shampoos and conditioners would make my hair happy, and well, they kind of did and that's how I got along for many years.

I assumed that my hair still had a personality of its own and was still unruly, but unruly in a limp and frizzy kind of way. I'd blame the weather and I would blame the shampoos. I spent a small fortune on different salon brands that made big promises. The only difference I ever noticed was how itchy my damn scalp was and how my hair pretty much stayed the same. Then finally my daft brain made a connection - if the skin on the rest of my body is sensitive to strong soaps, why would the skin under my hair be any different? You could almost audibly hear the >ting!< of the lightbulb going off. It was then that I went on another shampoo quest: To find the perfect itchy scalp, sensitive skin, curl tamer and completely organic shampoo.

Another small fortune later, my hair is slightly happier but there I was, stuck in the same damn boat floating on a sudsy shampoo sea of disappointment. My super fine hair was still frizzy, my curls looked kind of sad and limp, but my greasy head still needed to be washed daily. All advice on the internet said to stop washing altogether but that was a scary notion for me - I did NOT want to be a greaseball and that is exactly what happens after one day of no shampooing. However, I couldn't deny the logic behind ditching shampoo for good. Most shampoos contain variations of sulfates which are fancy forms of salt. Salt dries things out, most especially hair. Most shampoos, conditioners, gels and hair creams contain variations of silicone. Silicone acts like a moisture barrier (keeping it out) and assists those sulfates in really frying hair. After reading those little tid bits from various sources I hiked it up to the bathroom to read the ingredients in my collection of organic shampoo rejects. And there they were, the naughty -ates and -cones. Oddly, most of my conditioners passed the ingredients inquisition with flying colors.

Which gets me to where I was going. I'm kicking shampoo to the curb... and sobbing like a little girl who lost her security blanket. The general consensus is that it's going to get way worse before it gets amazingly better. After years and years of being stripped of its natural oils on a daily basis, my scalp is going to run wild like an Amish teen on rumspringer. If I can endure a couple of weeks of grease and drabbiness, the internets promise that my scalp will level itself out and my hair will be moist, curly and happy. Thousands of raving converts can't be wrong. I'm also looking forward to seeing how my sensitive scalp reacts to not having anything on it to aggravate it and cause it to be dry and itchy. I know for a fact that different shampoos would do just that.

Man that was a lot of hair talk. I'm doing this grand experiment to see if I can finally have a healthy, happy head of hair, but I'm also kind of doing it for my sisters. We don't discuss it much, but I'm pretty sure their curls drive them crazy too seeing as none of us really had anyone to teach us the curly way.

We shall see!

Trying My Hand at Belly Photos

2011-02-03T13:19:00.001-05:00

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Many thanks to Erin and Mike for providing me with the opportunity to do a few maternity shots! Congratulations to the both of you.

I Smell a Resolution

2011-01-31T08:45:00.000-05:00

I remember the day that I realized I could run. It was in the third grade during recess on a crisp autumn morning. Everyone knew that Carrie Y. was the fastest girl, or at least that's what she bragged and she was quick to challenge anyone to a dash. She usually won, and a lot of the times the boys would even lag in her dust. Third grade is kind of a good time for boys and girls to physically be on an even playing field and Carrie took full advantage of that. I was fairly new to the school and it didn't take long for her to start boasting of her speedy prowess.

I don't know if it's stubbornness or pride, but I couldn't abide by her premature gloating. So reluctantly, I tightened the laces of my Keds, tossed my jacket to the pavement and lined up next to Carrie. One of the other girls shouted, "GO!" and we were both off. Of course Carrie took the lead, but I'd be damned if I was going to let her win. My little feet churned across the playground and I felt as though my feet never touched the ground. Carrie slowly started to lose her hold and in an instant I had her. I don't know if she flat out gave up, or if I was indeed a better runner, but I passed Carrie and never looked back. I had the fastest girl in school beat and she was not pleased. Many years later when we were on opposing track teams, she gave me that same glare of contempt even though we were in different events.

Later in life I ran for different reasons than I did as a kid. My junior high years were spent on the track team less as a passion and more as a place to fit in. In high school it was a coping mechanism for low self-esteem. In my early twenties, it was for dumber reasons including burning off anger at ex-boyfriends or lack of boyfriends or trying to get hot to snag a boyfriend (see? dumb reasons). All of which is to say that my reasons were never really based in being healthy. It was just something I did.

Now here I am at thirty and still a runner but for the same and yet very different reasons. If I could go back in time I would shake the fluff out of my younger self who was so full of self-loathing. I always used to think I was chubby and the ugliest one of all my smoking-hot and tall friends. But to look back at photos of myself in my twenties, I was a smiley and very skinny kid. What was my freaking problem?! Now I'm thirty pounds heavier (ugh) but the healthiest I have ever been. Huh? Healthier? Yeah, I said it, healthier.

I count calories, I focus on fresh fruit and veggies, I have cut out all boxed foods, I am conscientious of how my family eats, and we all get up off of our butts. All of my biggest running achievements came long after Ava was born - I have run multiple 5Ks, 15Ks and even my first marathon. But somehow getting that extra weight off has been nothing but an uphill battle since the day after Ava was born. I would be lying if I said that the extra pounds didn't affect the way I feel about myself, but right now my biggest issue is my overall health and knees. It has become abundantly clear that my family breeds bad knees and I am already feeling the effects of my ski instructor days not to mention the crashes and tumbles. If I want to keep moving for the rest of my life I know that I need to take some of the strain off my knees and the biggest impact that I could make is my weight. Again, ugh.

So hello treadmill, my old friend. Hello calorie counter and hello even less fun food. I even succumbed to buying a scale that calls me overweight. Nothing like being shamed into your running pants by a heartless digital scale. I'm not even close to being a candidate for Biggest Loser, but it is going to be a challenge nevertheless. Perhaps by summer I can reward my success with these:

Busy, Busy

2010-12-15T08:19:00.000-05:00

I know I'm not a prolific writer, but 2 months?! Where the heck have I been? Oh, that's right, sitting on my couch, a slave to yarn. 2010/11 has been the year that everyone has up and decided to have babies, and it appears that I'm the only one in my generation of cousins and grandchildren that has shown any devotion to fiber arts. Hence, the blanket making has fallen to me. It's completely a self-appointed position, so I really can't complain. I have, however, learned that I am an extremely slow blanket maker. On average it's taking me 2 to 3 months of stealing moments in the evenings and forcing myself to sit for great lengths on the weekends. One would think lounging around doing nothing but working with your hands would be kind of a luxury, but I have found that I'm a lot antsier than I ever realized.

In addition to being elbows deep in blanket making, all of the parents to be have decided that it would be great fun to keep the sex of the baby a surprise. Fun for them. Tedious for me! Since I refuse to stick to the old standby of pastel green and yellow, this has forced me to think a little outside of the color box.

This blanket is for my brother-in-law and his soon-to-be wife's baby. I'm pretty sure she won't be googling me anytime soon, so I doubt this is spoiling their Christmas present. The color inspiration is tropical water and red coral. Sure it's mostly blue hues, but they're not baby blue, so I think it would look fine in a girl's room too.

I made another blanket late this past summer for my best friend Amanda's first baby. Like an idiot I forgot to take a picture of it before she hauled it away to Utah. Oh well, here is the pattern at least. Again, completely gender neutral.

Once Christmas settles down into the ol' winter grind and gift crafting gets shut down, I will be starting yet another...Yeah you guessed it...Gender neutral baby blanket! See you next April! (No not really, but man these things take me forever to crochet!)

Anniversary

2010-10-24T09:00:00.027-05:00

Well, it's been a year and the most common question that we always get is, "So, is married life any different?" Or, "I'll bet the honeymoon is over now, heh heh!" People always ask us these sorts of questions with a winkle in their eyes expecting us to gush about how hard being married is. They seem kind of disappointed when we admit it's exactly the same as the day before we tied the knot. How easily some forget that we had a whole seven years of working it all out already under our belts. There's something to be said for long engagements.

Our first year of marriage has been blissfully quiet. No funny living habits that we had to get used to. No arguments over how stupid the other person's money management is. No pouting over lacking domestic skills. No throwing of objects in a fit of frustration (though come to think of it, I don't think either of us has pulled that move ever...) Only day to day happiness. And boy howdy do we have that. Rick is a very funny man, and Ava is showing signs of being just as quick-witted. Life in these parts is pretty quiet, and I wouldn't trade it for anything else. I'm never jealous of those foot loose and fancy free singles, because I get to come home to my very favorite two people every day.

I love you Rickles (he hates that by the way). Happy One Eighth Anniversary, and here's to many more happy fractions.

Our wedding song:

Going Grey

2010-10-14T07:30:00.000-05:00

So what is it about second grade?

Let me first say, that this is not a criticism of Ava, but more of a reflection on how monumental this year has been shaping up to be. Last year we had problems with getting Ava to quit being so social and to focus in class, but with a little help from a very observant teacher, Ava was pretty much able to work through that. She is still a flitter brain that would rather chat and daydream than pay attention to her teacher, but I'm certain that will ebb as she ages. So much is going on in her little life, that I wonder how she even manages to learn anything anyhow.

Did you know that little girls are vicious? I had no idea. Is this something that I just forgotten about, or was I just too shy to have noticed way back when? Ava seems to have fallen prey to the frenemy. For most of the time, Ava and her little friend get along. Meaning, said friend allows Ava play with her. Ava on the other hand adores her and does everything that Friend says or does. Unfortunately, Friend likes to play power games and will purposely push Ava out of the circle of friends for a day. I encourage Ava to be nice, and move on to someone new, but it doesn't seem to sink in. I tell her a true friend would never try to purposely hurt your feelings and she nods knowingly, but the next day Friend gives her attention and hugs, and I feel like we're back to square one. It's a stupid spinning frenemy circle.

It's all about making choices, I suppose, and that has been our biggest parenting challenge of the year: Getting Ava to stop, weigh the outcome of her decision, and then make the right choice. It's almost a daily challenge to get Ava to stop making the wrong choice about everything from something so small and trivial (like flushing the damn toilet already!) to bigger issues like remembering to bring home her homework. Everything Rick and I say or do to try and help her work through her thought processes has been mind-bendingly futile. We just can't seem to get through to her the concept of consequence. Perhaps her mind is more abstract than Rick's or mine, but at this point repetition is all we have. It would even test the patience of Mother Theresa.

And that is where all of this comes full circle. How do you get a sensitive kid for whom healthy choices are non-existent, to decide to let go of an unhealthy friendship? I feel as though that if we can get Ava to make that leap, so many other issues would begin to fall into place. Aaaah parenthood. Everyone focuses on how physically hard it is to have a newborn or toddler. What they don't tell you is how much harder it is to wade through the emotional waters of the years to come!

Unplugging

2010-09-30T07:20:00.000-05:00

Every now and again I go through a phase where I feel too much like a slug and decide to cut television out of my life for awhile. It's never really very hard to do so because my evening routine is so packed with trying to get things done and caring for my family, that by the time I finally sit down it's fairly late in the evening. However, this isn't so with Ava.

For the longest time Rick and I didn't mind that Ava would sit down and watch TV right after we all got home because she would be exhausted from her long day of school, then after-school program. You could see that the poor kid was pretty tuckered out. Because Ava wasn't a tiny toddler either TV wasn't acting as a babysitter for us, she just wanted to be in veg mode. Lately though, it just didn't feel right anymore; the girl was becoming too dependent on television.

I think we all know by now that googling can bring forth scary results, and there is some extremely convincing arguments that television for young children is bad for them (and the small amount of screen time that it starts to be damaging is kind of startling). More than one study stated that ADHD development and television watching in young children is scientifically linked. That caught our attention because we already have a hard enough time getting Ava to focus on anything. Honestly, I don't believe our daughter has any developmental shortcomings, but it feels as though the potential could be there. Ava is imaginative and extremely social which is what we believe is the real reason behind any attention problems she may have, but...

You just never know.

And that is why the TV remains a quiet, black screen on school nights. Two weeks in and it is amazing how much more pleasant our home life has been. I will admit that I have to listen to a lot more incessant chatting, but that's the usual for us. We've been reading lots of books, and homework is so much less of drag because Ava doesn't have the siren call of TV luring her focus and attention away. Even her attitude that was popping up more and more has died down to being almost non-existent. Ava had always been a creative kid, but it is so nice to have her sit in the kitchen with me while I make dinner, and come up with fantastic drawings and stories. All in all, it's a decision that neither Rick and I regret.

My, My, My...

2010-08-17T07:51:00.000-05:00

Where has the summer gone? In just one day, summer decided to disappear with the northerly wind that brought a cooler temperature. The wind swept in and suddenly everything was different. The clouds aren't even the same. I give it a day before I spot the tell-tale first red leaf on a maple tree.

No worries though, because the change in atmosphere has made my domestic endeavors very worthwhile. Not to mention a little more comfortable in the kitchen.

Maybe now, it will be a little more comfortable laboring to make all of those darn baby blankets that need to be gifted in the coming months! Handling yarn in July just isn't the same as it is in January.

Simple Things

2010-06-28T18:19:00.002-05:00

Over time I have been slowly trying to ween us off any foods that have been overly processed or have ingredients that sound like they came from my high school chem lab. It hasn't really been too hard of a challenge for me seeing as I am a big believer in cooking from scratch, but I realized what a crutch boxed food was on the nights I was feeling too tired or too lazy. The crazy thing is that all of the simple things I would turn to are some of the simplest things to whip up.

Tonight, for example, is spaghetti night. When I read about a super easy sauce recipe that required nothing more than canned tomatoes, an onion and butter I knew I had to try it. Rick was skeptical, but the proof was in the pudding, err sauce.

So now we spend just a tiny bit more on the produce and staples, but so much less on overly engineered crap. This is not a revelation, but when did being in a "hurry" and leading "hectic" lives become an excuse for cutting corners on our health? Who knows, so here's to doing my part to cut the vicious cycle.

This is Just a Test

2010-06-25T16:42:00.002-05:00

Upgrading my iPod touch got me all kinds of excited for it all over again, and I downloaded a blogging app. I can't say just yet how often it will get utilized because typing with two thumbs has already caused a lot of backspacing even with the fancy-pants predictive text.

I'd say I have slender fingers, but this has me feelings like I have sausage fingers!

Sunday Night on Fifteenth* St.

2010-05-11T09:18:00.001-05:00

My cheeks and fingers are cold from the brisk, evening breeze. I look up to the perfect blue sky and see the only robin that is singing. All of the other birds are tucking in for the night. My bike ride is silent except for the almost silent hum of my tires. The houses on either side are all quiet with only a light in a few of the windows. No dogs bark and the neighborhood is quiet.

I can smell the fresh coolness of spring and in this moment I know that all of this would have been missed from the seat of a car.

*Completely unrelated, but one day a few months ago I was sent into a tizzy when, for a moment, I doubted my knowledge of the English language. All because I noticed that the sign at the crossroad next to our house said Fifthteenth St. I kind of want to steal the sign to see if the replacement would be corrected or if some sort of clerical error would make it through again.

Also completely unrelated, but because I can:

Damn You, Anna Karenina

2010-04-28T07:37:00.000-05:00

It all started when I was a stay at home mom to Ava in her first year. After hours and hours of solitary time of just me and a baby, I felt like my brain cells were making a steady decline into goo. Then on one episode of Oprah, she went on and on and on about how great the latest version of Anna Karenina was and how it was going to be her new book club book. Great! Something thought provoking and a book that didn't have Playskool stamped on it!

Ava turns seven this summer, and I'm only two-thirds of the way through. Ughh.

Firstly, I can't stand how whiny and self-centered Anna is. I know that the social boundaries of the 1800s Russia and present day are like night and day, but I like to think that there's a certain intimacy between a man and wife that exists and is timeless. Why neither Anna nor Alexei could pipe up about how miserable they were drove me crazy. Add to that the insanely boring musings of Levin and his farming practices, I've not been able to plod my way through the whole book. I'll make it someday, but man am I so not interested!

My failure with Anna Karenina lead me to ponder classic literature and how much of it I hadn't read. It's kind of embarrassing really, when you take into consideration the AP Lit classes in high school and the college lit classes later on. I've read a lot of books, just none of the ones that everyone seems to think matters. I googled the top 100 must-read classics and was humbled by how many of them I couldn't cross off my personal list. And that is where I discovered this summer's hobby. Adios television, hello mostly eighteenth century Britain!

Armed with The List, I marched to the library and book store. It was with some trepidation that I cracked open Vanity Fair, especially after my struggle with that damn Russian chick. The book was just as thick, and the older style English was enough to look daunting. Oh, how I was relieved after the first chapter, and even though the book was riddled with just as many characters and just as many sub-plots, Vanity Fair was such a better book! With that I gained the courage to steam through the rest of the list. I know that so many classics are not included in that 100, but it seemed as good a place as any to start my self-education. Summer of Literature, here I come!

P.S. Isn't it kind of pretty in my neck of the woods?

And in case any of you are wondering, here you go:

1. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - Ken Kesey
2. Diary of a Madman and Other Stories - Nikolai Gogol
3. Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys
4. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
5. Notes From Underground - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
6. Story of the Eye - Georges Bataille
7. Spy In House Of Love: V4 In Nin'S Continuous Novel - Anais Nin
8. Lady Chatterly's Lover - D.H.Lawrence
9. Venus in Furs - Leopold von Sacher-Masoch
10. The Canterbury Tales - Geoffrey Chaucer
11. The Karamazov Brothers - Fyodor Dostoevsky
12. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
13. Diamonds Are Forever - Ian Fleming
14. The Master and Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov
15. The Secret Agent - Joseph Conrad
~~16. A Room With a View - E. M. Forster~~
17. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
18. Don Juan - Lord George Gordon Byron
19. Love in a Cold Climate- Nancy Mitford
20. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - Tennessee Williams
21. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
22. Middlemarch - George Eliot
23. She: A History of Adventure - H. Rider Haggard
24. The Fight - by Norman Mailer
25. No Easy Walk to Freedom - Nelson Mandela
26. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
27. The Age of Innocence - Edith Wharton
28. Notre-Dame of Paris (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) - Victor Hugo
29. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
30. The Old Curiosity Shop - Charles Dickens
31. Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
32. Bram Stoker's Dracula - Bram Stoker
~~33. Frankenstein - Mary Shelley~~
34. The Castle of Otranto - Horace Walpole
35. The Turn of the Screw - Henry James
~~36. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray~~
37. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
38. Baby doll - Tennessee Williams
39. Breakfast at Tiffany's - Truman Capote
~~40. Emma - Jane Austen~~
41. On the Road - Jack Kerouac
42. The Odyssey - Homer
43. The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
44. Three Men in a Boat - Jerome K. Jerome
~~45. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll~~
46. The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
47. Vile Bodies - Evelyn Waugh
48. The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
49. The Beautiful and Damned - F. Scott Fitzgerald
50. Against Nature - Joris-Karl Huysmans
51. The Autobiography of Malcolm X - Malcolm X
52. The Outsider - Albert Camus
53. Animal Farm - George Orwell
54. The Communist Manifesto - Karl Marx
55. Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
56. The Time Machine - H. G. Wells
57. The Man in the High Castle - Philip K. Dick
58. The Invisible Man - H.G. Wells
59. The Day of the Triffids - John Wyndham
60. We - Yevgeny Zamyatin
61. A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess
62. Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga - Hunter S. Thompson
63. A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
64. Another Country - James Baldwin
65. In Cold Blood - Truman Capote
66. Junky: The Definitive Text of Junk - William S. Burroughs
67. The Moonstone - Wilkie Collins
68. Confessions of an English Opium Eater - Thomas De Quincey
69. Subterraneans - Jack Kerouac
70. Monsieur Monde Vanishes - Georges Simenon
71. Nineteen Eighty-four - George Orwell
72. The Monkey Wrench Gang - Edward Abbey
73. The Prince - Niccolo Machiavelli
74. Bound for Glory - Arthur Miller
75. Death of a Salesman - Georges Simenon
76. Maigret and the Ghost - Georges Simenon
77. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
78. The Big Sleep - Raymond Chandler
79. A Study in Scarlet - Arthur Conan, Sir Doyle
80. The Thirty-Nine Steps - John Buchan
81. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
82. Therese Raquin - Ãmile Zola
83. Les Liaisons dangereuses - Pierre Choderlos de Laclos
84. The Scarlet Letter - Nathaniel Hawthorne
85. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy (Damn You! -fist in air)
86. I, Claudius : From the Autobiography of Tiberius Claudius, Born 10 B.C., Murdered and Deified A.D. 54 - Robert Graves
87. Hangover Square - Patrick Hamilton
88. The Beggar's Opera - John Gay
89. The Twelve Caesars - Suetonius
90. Guys and Dolls - Hal Leonard Corporation
91. Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson
92. The Iliad of Homer - Homer
93. The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
94. From Russia with Love - Ian Fleming
95. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
96. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
97. The Diary of a Nobody - George Grossmith
98. Pickwick Papers - Charles Dickens
99. Scoop - Evelyn Waugh
100. Lucky Jim - Kingsley Amis

5 out of 100. Just sad.

That One Time with the Water Skiing

2010-04-13T07:39:00.000-05:00

Having Ava has really brought home the point that your children make you come face to face with your own issues that you have within yourself. This isn't an earth shattering revelation, but something I think every parent has to face, and stumble around with hoping to get it right and not screw up their kid. For us, with Ava, our problem is getting her to overcome her own inner naysayer and being brave enough to try new things.

At first, I was shocked that Ava had this characteristic of absolutely refusing to go beyond her comfort zone where other kids happily push forward, but after a little more introspection I realized that the apple may not fall far from the tree. Last summer, Ava kicked and screamed and panic attacked (so she let on) against going beyond her knees in the water. No amount of cajoling or comforting, or loving supportive hugs would get her to even think of trying to swim. In a state where there is water less than a mile from anywhere, I kind of fretted over having a kid who refused to swim and I worried that she would stay that way forever. At the last possible moment, she decided to give it a shot in my mother's pool on a late summer day and we haven't been able to get our fish out of the water since. Ava is almost seven and this is "The Summer of the Training Wheels." That's in quotes because already, Rick and I can see that that is this year's monumental break through. Just last night after 5 successful minutes of trying to balance on two wheels, Ava went from perfectly happy and willing to an all-out freak out in less than a minute. It was so sudden that I had no idea that it was even happening until Ava was hyperventilating on the sidewalk.

And there I was trying to figure out just where things went awry.

Later in the evening, while doing the dishes, my mind wandered trying to figure out just how two adventuresome, speed-freak parents ended up with such a tentative child. And then I remembered. When I was about 10, my dad and his good friend spent many summer days and nights water-skiing. I loved swimming and I loved zipping around on the boat watching them, so it seemed like a natural progression to get me to try and water-ski. My dad patiently held me up in the right position in the water and he talked me through every step. He told me what feelings to expect and what to do if things weren't going right. I was petrified.

I'm not sure how long it took me to get up on those 2 skis, but I do know that I cried and screamed, and yelled, "I CAN'T DO IT!!!!" for a better part of an afternoon. But my dad patiently persisted and eventually I made it up and realized how fun it was to glide across the water. That was one of my AHA! moments because after that day, even though new things may have scared that crap out of me I learned to make the leap anyway. It's probably why I ended up having so many daring hobbies, and most definitely why I was a ski instructor a lifetime ago.

Making that realization helped me to relax a little about Ava and her stubborn refusal to try new things. I still have no idea how to get her to that place where she can trust to make her own leaps, but I know that if I could change so can she. The funny thing about this whole "Summer of the Training Wheels" thing, is that Ava already balances perfectly on her bike. She just needs to believe in herself as much as Rick and I already do.

Genetics

2010-04-09T12:29:00.002-05:00

Ava, my dear, though your hair be straight, I think it is safe to say that you are doomed to a lifetime of unruly hair - much like mine.

Story of a Townie: Bike Love

2010-03-19T20:23:00.000-05:00

Rick and I love, love, love living smack dab in the middle of the city. Granted, our "city" is not a booming metropolis, but it is one of the larger populations in the northernmost half of the state. Sometimes I wonder if our lives haven't gotten a little more sheltered living in town because everything we need or want is within a 3 mile radius of our front porch. Three blocks over is a grocery store good for late night milk runs or chocolate cravings. Multiple coffee shops are short walks away making our caffeine addictions all too easy to fuel. Best of all, our little piece of Lake Michigan is a mere eight-tenths of a mile down the road. Needless to say, becoming a single-car family from a two-car wasn't much of a loss, and hasn't been for the past three years.

When the Michigan weather decides to no longer shower down in frozen or unfrozen form, I ride my trusty Schwinn to and from work twice a day. It is a clunky, heavy mountain bike that I got for my thirteenth birthday. In 1993, it was top of the line, but these 17 years later it has seen many miles and many better days. A 21-speed mountain bike yearns to stretch its gears, but in this flat, bayside town the gears have been stuck in the same position for years - cruising speed. It is with that in mind, that Rick has heard me yearn and yammer on and on about all of the other "townies" zipping around on their fun, vintage beach cruisers. You can spot the locals from the throngs of tourists simply by spotting the bright paint colors, sleek frame lines and the big basket on front. My desire for a cruiser all of my own only grew when we both discovered that our neighbor's hobby was to rescue bikes beyond repair and to rebuild them from top to bottom.

Months ago, before Christmas Rick and our neighbor, conceived of a plan to build me a bike of my very own. For those months it sat in John's (neighbor) front window as they slowly made progress on a complete revamp. I was clueless. Just a few nights ago they had the great unveiling for my 30th birthday. I can't deny that I didn't squeal like a little school girl. It was one of the coolest and most thoughtful presents that I've ever gotten. It also didn't hurt that my new bike is older than I now am - seeing as it's all downhill after 30. So they say.

With that, I now look forward to cruising through my 30s in style. Everything about this bike was tailored to me and my tastes which makes me think it should have a name.

Any suggestions?

A Postcard from Nowhere

2010-03-10T08:43:00.008-05:00

Winter in Michigan has not been an all out snowfest this winter. In fact, it has very much been the opposite. Many of us in the cold snowy North laughed heartily as the East got dumped on and we took no pain in calling out, "Pansies!" when they first began to whine about the slightest accumulation. Try living up here, where snowblowing your driveway can be a daily chore for months at a time; a place where the native Northerner goes out to start their car in sub-zero temps in nothing but Sorel boots and a bathrobe. Snowbound inhabitants can predict the weather for the day based on the squeak and pitch of the snow crunching beneath their feet and days pass by for weeks on end with the same dull, muted greys of a sky missing its sun.

And yet...
Our winter this year was kind of, just, meh. And as we speak the sun is beaming down, melting the brown piles of dirty snow, tempting us with dreams of an early spring. The breeze blows warm and people are dressed as though it's on the verge of being May. And yet...

I still seem to be suffering from the winter blues. I think it has less to do with the hardship of winter and more to do with EVERYONE going away to (warm) far off places, leaving me in the brown, slushy dust.

I'm not really sure how one can pull themselves up from the winter doldrums, when so many others are frolicking upon beaches. What do you do to kill the sour mood, and try to not wish for it to rain, rain and rain on all of your vacationing cohorts?

I guess for now, I'll pull out the old pickle jar and start scrounging for pennies. Because one day this will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine!

To You and You and You

2010-02-16T08:06:00.001-05:00

It's not too late to send a little love is it? I didn't think so.

Not a Resolution, But a Self-Promise

2010-01-20T08:19:00.002-05:00

This has been folded in my purse for a couple of weeks. Strangely, being carted around with me everywhere has not made it become forgotten clutter in my purse. In fact, it's like a little luck token that reminds me not to forget what my goals are for this year.

I've chosen the word "focus" to be my theme of 2010. For too long I've struggled with not knowing what to do with myself or how to change my unhappy situation. I think mostly I was rendered immobile by my indecision and now I've had enough with being stuck.

Fate, destiny or some higher being has no interest in the trajectory of my life. Only myrself, the choices I make and the family and friends I surround myself with have any affect on the way things pan out. I see people who have success and happiness in their lives and it's because they took initiative and went after what they wanted.

So, with that in mind I am going to focus on miniature goals all year long with the hopes that it will bring me a little bit closer to whatever it is I want - mostly contentment. I will have to put my inner A+ over-achiever fear of failure aside and jump in. Because after all what is failure when you learn something positive from it? And perhaps failures will actually be successes that bit by bit, will make the end of this year a far different place than the beginning started as.

Crafty

2009-12-15T08:06:00.002-05:00

Although some may say I've been a little on the pessimistic side of things lately, I've somehow managed to fall on the cheery side of Christmas spirit this year. Each of my evenings have been filled with cutting out paper snowflakes with Ava, hiding our little nisse and not even complaining about our 400th viewing of The Polar Express.

I have so many cool things that I want to share, but alas too many gift recipients read this here fantasmo. Let's just say that I think this year's gift is pretty "sweet"! And no, it's not a baked good. I think everyone should go back to the old-fashioned idea of self-made gifts. There's a certain sense of satisfaction in wrapping up something that was made from the heart.

Courage

2009-11-30T12:46:00.002-05:00

It's no secret that I haven't been in a place mentally, creatively or physically fulfilling when it comes to my job. And most days when I don't think things could possibly be worse, things find a way to get worse. Of course all of this is mental whining because in a state where unemployment is the worst of all the 50 states, you know when to keep your mouth zipped and your blessings counted.

For months, a couple years even, I have been dreaming of being my own boss at something. Anything really and I believe I have the tools to make it happen. I just don't know if I have the inner spirit to make the leap. Already we live on the razor's edge of poverty vs. just making it by and I worry that there will never be a good time to jump forward blindly.

So this question goes to all of you. When do you jump and hope you land on your feet running instead of in a mushy heap?

Breaking the Seal

2009-11-16T07:58:00.002-05:00

With a public service announcement:

It really behooves one to read the second from top warning label on microwave popcorn; never leave the microwave unattended. Because otherwise one may wander off completely distracted and forget to prevent their yummy bag of snack from turning into a smoking lump of stinky char. It is possible that it may take days to remove the stench from one's entire household, but only seconds to learn to never do that again!

Also, in my absence from fanstasmoland did I happen to mention that Rick and I finally tied the knot?

No? Really?

Well Huzzah, we finally made it!!!

Time Slips By

2009-08-21T13:34:00.003-05:00

All in the course of a week Ava turned 6, lost two teeth and finally got over her fear of swimming. Sometimes I wish I could trap moments of time in glass Ball jars so that I could admire them just like fireflies. -sigh-

Just a Thought

2009-08-07T12:23:00.002-05:00

For all you trendy hipsters out there who think they are being responsible and saving the planet by riding Vespas?...

When you buzz by me on my bicycle and I still have to suck on your exhaust, I still categorize you as a gas-guzzling douchebag. Yeah, I said it.

Finally, Some Summer

2009-07-06T09:02:00.000-05:00

Sad Monkey

2009-06-10T13:03:00.003-05:00

I was listening to a really interesting podcast from Radiolab the other day. It was on the topic of zoos and how they have changed and what affects they really have on the animals inhabiting them. At one point the host was talking with a scientist who did a study on monkeys and the level of luxury with their cages. For the sake of understanding, they were broken down into classes; upper-class, middle-class and poor. The upper-class monkeys had enclosures that were much like nature with plenty of food variety and lots of toys to play with. The middle-class monkeys had less exciting enclosures and less toys, but nevertheless still not a bad place to live. The poverty level monkeys had a square cell with not much to do, and just adequate food to keep them healthy.

The scientists took brain scans of all of these monkeys and found that there wasn't much difference in the upper and middle-class monkeys. Their brains showed signs of growth and progression despite the differences in environments. The poor monkeys, on the other hand, showed significantly less brain growth - 20% to 40% less. Holy Moly.

As I sat there listening to this podcast at work, I couldn't help but be struck by how much I felt like those poor monkeys. Think about it, it is a great analogy for life (and really? How much different are we than those monkeys?) I'm at a job where I feel caged in daily. In a way I'm trapped. I hate being here, but I can't leave because there are absolutely no job openings around here. Northern Michigan is not exactly a hot bed of job opportunities right now. My creativity is squelched on a daily basis by my superiors, and most everyone is always in a pissy mood. We took a huge pay cut last month, and well, it gets kind of hard to stay optimistic under these conditions.

But going back to that study on monkeys...

The scientists eventually took the poverty level monkeys and placed them into nicer living conditions awaiting what they would see on the new brain scans. Within 2 to 4 weeks they noticed huge advancements in new growth. If one could guess by brain scans alone, one would assume that they were much happier monkeys.

And this is where the moral of the story comes in. How do you get yourself out of that stagnant cage? How do you get yourself to the next level where your brain can be challenged and allowed room for growth again? I'm not exactly sure at this point how I am going to get there, but I do know that it needs to happen. Change is definitely scary, but I think 10 more years of the exact same kind of misery is terrifying.

Here's to brainstorming a way to achieve one's dreams!

The very reason why I don't wig out and quit and a daily basis is that smiling little mug you see above. >sigh<

Breather

2009-05-20T12:11:00.002-05:00

Now that the weather has turned for the better, I pedal myself to and from work every day. The fresh air and exercise is quite the cleanser and that is a good thing too.

I was all riled up and ready to trash talk my job, but after a little sunshine from the lunch time ride, I just don't care anymore. Bicycle meditation: it does a body (and mind!) good.

Lust

2009-05-06T12:20:00.007-05:00

I have to blame my friend Amanda. On a crazy whim I offered to photograph her wedding and she accepted. It was in a word (or two) a blast! I now understand why so many photographers get addicted to weddings. The good vibes, the happy people, and so many willing subjects. Any artist would be attracted to the art of how a wedding story unfolds and I can't say that I am immune.

But, I know my place as an amateur. Two senior portrait sessions and a wedding do not make me by any means a professional. However, the more clicks I make and the better the pictures get the more I realize that I may be ready for an upgrade. That, my friends, is why my google search bar rolls its eyes at me as I type in once again "Nikon D300." It's embarrassing really.

I see photos taken with that camera and they all look so rich and buttery. My little camera goes green with envy at what the D300 and D700 can do, but it also laughs at me when the prices of its big brothers pop up.

So for now my D50 and I do what we can do and I have vowed to grow my skills even more. A personal challenge that I have given myself is to learn how to shoot completely in manual mode. I've never been a girl to switch to automatic, but having to think of all my settings all on my own has always been a little daunting. Well, no more - I will learn. And once I do, then and maybe only then, may I consider an upgrade.

Unless of course somebody would like to toss a D300 in my mailbox.

It Happens: Life

2009-04-29T12:12:00.003-05:00

So what happens when something that is at the very core of your being and self-image gets turned upside down? How do you gather yourself up and carry on?

A few days ago, my little sister took a wrong step on a slippery wet field during one of her soccer games and blew out her knee. Surgery is inevitable and she is looking at months and months of physical therapy. For someone like me, this kind of injury would, well, suck. But I don't live my life around the amount of time I spend in my shinguards. I would have the surgery and do the exercises, but it would be for the health of it - not for the sake of my athletic career.

Kelly, on the other hand, is a star player who has a college scholarship awaiting her. She is merely weeks away from graduation and for her this is a huge blow. Kelly has been on the soccer field since she was four and as she has grown up I have seen just how much she relies on soccer to keep her straight. I can see that from the perspective of a lifelong runner who understands the discipline of training, pushing one's limits, and always working toward an unfinished goal. If Kelly is anything like me, she needs that daily grind of being out on the road (for her a field) working up a sweat. Running for me is my release and I know that soccer must be hers.

The upside to this whole situation is that her college has agreed to not drop her scholarship and to work with her to get her into the upcoming season. The sun has not gone down yet. Kelly is also a very healthy young girl who has more muscle and grit than most of us. Age and health are tremendous factors in recovery and she has both to her advantage. The only advice I could impart to her at this point would be; be patient.

While training for last year's marathon, I hit a huge obstacle with my own knee trouble. It wasn't near as bad as Kelly's, but it was still a major hitch in my training. Rick's aunt is a physical therapist and she quickly had me in a steady routine of stretching and strength-building exercises. They were tedious, grueling and very boring. I was going nuts not being able to hit the road and get in my training miles. It was weeks of nothing but exercises and cross-training on a bike and swimming. In the end, the physical therapy is what got me through the knee injury and back on the road. I finished my marathon and my knee held up the entire distance. So many times I wanted to give up and throw those exercise sheets out the window, but those are exactly what made my knees stronger.

Being patient won't come easy and there will be so many days you will want to give up, but hang in there Lou! You will make it through this.

Feelers

2009-04-08T15:53:00.005-05:00

Blah, blah, blah. I have been writing this post for almost a week and I have just scrapped everything that I had written. Suffice it to say, I sounded way too whiny. Who wants to hear about my artist's block and pre mid-life crisis? Nobody, that's who.

The long-winded point that I was trying to get to in the first place, is that finding yourself and where you want to be in life sure feels like an aimless journey. And that perhaps if I could only nail down what it is exactly that I wanted to do with myself, then perhaps I could jump feet first into that life that I want. After I whined about that to myself and then re-read it all, I realized that most everyone feels this way too. Not too many people know precisely where their passions lie and the ones that do are an extremely lucky lot.

So all whining aside, I have my feelers out. Everyday, I'm trying to figure out what would make my heart thump with excitement on a daily basis. I'm hoping to stumble on to that thing , have my own "Aha!" moment, and plunge into something good. Maybe if I'm lucky I can make a good living at it and be my own boss. On days like today it feels like a tall order, but dreams are meant to be big...

Even when you're not really sure what they are.

Yellow Be Gone

2009-04-06T13:15:00.001-05:00

Aren't you all glad that I hack jobbed a new template? At least it's better than all of that yellow :)

A Sneak Peek

2009-04-01T17:36:00.001-05:00

This is what happy couple looks like after snowboarding down a mountain! More photos to come as I get through editing. Keep your eyes peeled :)

Huffing Into a Brown Bag

2009-03-26T13:19:00.002-05:00

My birthday was a week and a half ago and I was all prepared to have a reflection on what it will hopefully be like in the last year of my twenties. Instead, I find myself having anxiety dreams and random stress skin breakouts. Why am I freaking? Why?

Because on the 31st, I have the task of trying to photograph my very best friend's wedding. And who was the fool that committed to this epic undertaking? That's right, me. In a moment of foolishness I volunteered myself knowing that she would in all likelihood accept my offer, and as we near the big day, I'm panicking.

Now, yes the logical side of my brain is telling me that it would take a very large series of ridiculously unfortunate events to really botch things up, but self-doubt is a beast. Photography is not my strongest skill and yet I persist. And even though self-doubt tells me to FAIL, sometimes I have to admit that I can take some pretty okay pictures. Amanda can rest assured that I will be putting forth my very best effort.

But what if the battery pukes?

Or the memory card blips out?

Or I can't handle my new flash and every photo is blurry and over/under exposed?

Or an avalanche comes spilling down the mountain taking the whole wedding party, guests, and my camera along with it?! These are the worries that weigh heavily on me.

The only bit of comfort I can give myself is this: You have an insanely huge memory card, 2 in fact. Shoot ’til they're full, baby! Odds are, at least one of them will turn out just right. Should the world end right as I'm taking my last shot, well, at least there will be wedding cake. Phew!

Avenger of the Ivy

2009-03-10T10:23:00.004-05:00

I love going to other people's homes and discovering their knick knacks, photos and ephemera. Because while the overall color scheme and design to a room really make a place, the little things are what make that room more of a place in the home as opposed to being just a space in the house. Right?

Batman here, likes to travel around our house. You just never know where he is going to pop up next. For awhile he like to play charades atop our bedroom bookshelf. He even did a stint as an actual action figure, but now he appears to have settled in a bit. While I'm not a big fan of comic book home décor, Batman has weaseled his way into our home and hearts. Right now, he stands nestled in next to our ivy up on a shelf along with decorative votives and a modern stainless steel lamp. People find him oddly entertaining, so there it seems, Batman has found a permanent home.

IWONIWONIWON!

2009-02-22T20:53:00.002-05:00

Okay so technically we won, because quite frankly it takes two to get married.

That's right, MARRIED!

As many of you know, Rick and I have been engaged for practically forever. Life has always gotten in the way and we have had bigger things to save and spend our money on. A wedding for us was always, "It will happen someday, we just have to be patient." Now, here we are with a five-year-old and a five year long engagement. Rick and I have discussed having a very small ceremony in our backyard with a few family members and even then we were scratching our heads wondering how to make it happen.

And then today rolled around. My friend Holly convinced me to go with her and her friend Carrie to the bridal expo today. With your registration to the event, your name was put into a raffle where you could win all sorts of prizes and the chance to win the motherload: a $12,000 wedding package.

That's right folks, they called my name! Rick and I are finally getting hitched!

Who's Tired of Yellow?

2009-02-02T13:27:00.002-05:00

Me too. The marathon was for one of the best causes ever, but I think I need to get crackin' on some new digs. Who's on board?

Yo, AMC

2009-01-27T07:53:00.002-05:00

The network programmers must have it out for females across the nation because they have been running Rocky marathons tirelessly for months now. I have nothing against Rocky I through IV, or even the newest, Rocky Balboa. BUT when my remote control gets taken hostage to the one and only television in the house for the third time in only a month, well then, Rocky gets a little old.

It's not like the plot lines exactly run deep. Each and every chapter to the Rocky line can be summed up as this: Rocky is a loser nobody believes in. Then somebody tells Rocky what a loser he is, he gets enraged and in turn thinks he's not a loser. Rocky gets it together and beats the snot out of someone and is proud whether he wins or loses. Rocky is no longer a loser...at least until the beginning of the next sequel.

Rocky we get it, you can go the distance. Retire already!

Rick finds great pleasure in subjecting me to these tele-cinematic marathons because he knows that my eye will start to twitch the minute the trumpets blare the beginning notes of the theme. I know nobody has me chained to the couch and often I do get up to find something else to do, but after hours and hours the Rocky theme music creeps into your brain and nestles in like a virus. You find yourself humming along from the other room, it infiltrates your dreams. To make matters worse, Rick has somehow conned Ava into loving Rocky. How a five-year-old princess can like a movie about swollen-faced men pounding on each other is beyond me, but now the two of them are a solid fan force. I get out-voted every time for changing the channel and then I slink off to find something, anything else to do.

So please AMC, NO MORE ROCKY, I'm begging you! And all you other networks take note too because I don't want to see you picking up where AMC left off (I'm looking at you Spike TV).

Little by Little

2009-01-21T13:30:00.005-05:00

Good grief it has been over a month. Yes, those are cobwebs you see hanging over there and a good inch of dust needs to be blown away.

Aaaaanyway, because it is still technically January, I feel that it is still safe to discuss resolutions and keeping promises. I never make lofty proclamations on New Year's Eve for the new year and 2009 hasn't been any different. However, I do like to take stock of any improvements that I could be making. Often it is a process that rolls along throughout the year and little by little I get better at doing/changing/improving whatever it is that I had my sights on.

One good example would be, what do I do to be a good human to Mother Earth? Two summers ago when we moved into our house, I decided that 1 mile was way too close to my job to NOT walk or ride my bike to work everyday. So, in the warmer seasons Ava and I walk to her pre-school and I continue on to work by bike. As a result, we only ever used one car and that is all we own now. The other, less efficient car was sold and we haven't really missed having it. One car can be kind of a pain once in awhile, but we always find a way and I feel less selfish and wasteful for it.

Another thing I have done, was to buy those trendy reusable grocery bags. In one year it has been amazing to see just how many plastic bags have been cut out of our life. I would never switch back to paper or plastic, and not just for the obvious earth-friendly reason either. It is purely selfish; you can fit more crap into one bag, the handles never break, they are easier to grab, and they pack perfectly into the back of your car. And did I mention less annoying plastic bags cramming your junk drawer, pantry or garbage? For $1 per bag it was the best eight dollars ever spent.

Doing just these two things have made us a more planet-friendly household and I know that there is so much more we could be doing. A couple of months ago, we purchased a programmable thermostat and the impact of not needing to remember to turn it down every day and night has made it a no-brainer energy and money saver. It is small steps like these that Rick and I make here and there that have slowly added up to making a bigger change. Here's to even more small but significant changes for the better in 2009. Next up: finding reusable sandwich containers for lunches instead of foil or baggies.

Finding the Spirit

2008-12-10T09:57:00.003-05:00

Every year when the Christmas season rolls around, I feel like I turn in to the grinchiest of grinches. I never really understood why until the day I figured out that it was because I never have money. Now, I know that I am definitely not the first person to say this, but Christmas has become way over commercialized. Commercials on the tv and radio begin jingling at you and retailers cram their knock-down, blowout specials in your face before Halloween has even had a chance to be spooky. You can buy fake snow at Target before there is even any real snow on the ground. I get frustrated by sane people going nutso and frantic over last minute shopping sprees and I loathe the unspoken obligation of gifting to everyone that you have ever known. It's downright irritating.

I don't celebrate Christmas for its namesake like most other people do, but I do love the feeling of taking time to spread the love. Taking a breather to focus on all the good things that surround you (family, health and love) and regrouping for another year to come. It seems only natural to want to hunker down in these cold, northern lands and to appreciate those that you hold dear to yourself. The yuletide season has become especially magical now that we have Ava in our life. Every year the magic comes alive for her, and through her Rick and I get to relive the magic of our own childhoods. It's invigorating being around a little person who believes that anything is possible and for whom cynicism hasn't gotten in the way yet. It is Ava who drags me out of my grinchitude and who makes me forget the stress of holiday dollar signs.

Together the three of us have formed our own family traditions, one of which hails from Denmark. Instead of elves, the Danes have little elf-like creatures called nisse.

"A tomte (pronounced [ˈtɔ`mːtɛ]) or nisse ([ˈnìsːɛ]) is a mythical creature of Scandinavian folklore originating from Norse paganism. Tomte or Nisse were believed to take care of a farmer's home and children and protect them from misfortune, in particular at night, when the housefolk were asleep. Tomte is a common Swedish name, derived from his place of residence and area of influence: the house lot or tomt. The Finnish name is "tonttu". Nisse is the common name in Norwegian, Danish and the Scanian dialect in southernmost Sweden; it is a nickname for Nils, and its usage in folklore comes from expressions such as Nisse god dräng ("Nisse good lad," cf. Robin Goodfellow)."

My Danish host-mother, went to great lengths to show me most of their Christmas traditions, and decorated my room with many little paper nisse hidden in my room's shelves. I kept all of them, and now they come out every season to hide in our own home's nooks and crannies. Ava lights up at the sight of them, and you can't help but smile too. These are the moments that Christmas is made of. Not gift cards or gift receipts; not shopping malls or 4 a.m. discount prices; not bags, boxes or bows, but time well-spent with your loved-ones.

And in my own small way to stick to the corporate man, most everybody on my gift list will be getting hand-made gifts. Usually they are every year, but this year I'm feeling especially crafty. Thanks to my Ava-girl for the holiday perspective!

It Boggles

2008-11-21T12:37:00.000-05:00

My office building sits in the historic part of town and consequently everything about it is, well, old. This includes the plumbing, so at times, even the slightest hint of toilet paper is impossible to flush. Everyone in this building knows that once in awhile you will be required to push down the handle a minimum of three times.

So how is it that someone has made it to adulthood without having the common courtesy to uhm, clear the way for the next person? The drive-by drop-and-runner is one of only six women - this means I work closely with the guilty party. Eeew. Let's just hope that they at least used the time saved by not flushing to wash their hands. Again, eeew.

No Complaints

2008-11-10T12:02:00.000-05:00

There is no possible way that your Monday can be bad when you try on a pair of pants from circa 2002 b.a. (Before Ava). Or when you put the pants on and can button them without sucking it in. Or when you put the pants on, button the top and realize that there is no rolling over the top. Victory on a Monday morning is nothing but pure gold.

America,

2008-11-05T08:14:00.002-05:00

I could kiss you!

In the past months and weeks leading up to election day, I held on to the hope that America was ready for a change. I hoped that as a collective, we would finally put petty differences aside and think of the good of everyone. I wasn't convinced that we could pull it off because after all, Bush was re-elected, but still I held on.

The ugliness that this election brought out in people shocked me. I don't judge a person solely on their skin and it was terribly disheartening to hear the narrow-minded comments that people were making. A lot of hateful things came out of the mouths of people around me in my life - not just sound bites on the radio and tv. It really got me down to see people completely disregard the real issues at hand, and focus on something so shallow and ugly. It chipped away at my hope. I braced myself for the inevitable win of McCain & Palin. I voted for Obama anyway. As I stood in line to vote, I searched the faces of everyone leaving wondering if they felt the way I did, if they were pushing for a difference too. Slipping that ballot into the box was an excellent feeling.

I stayed up late to watch the results trickle in, and I thought it was going to be a tight night, but when 11:00 pm struck the inertia of the election made a huge shift. Stunned and overwhelmed with happiness I witnessed Obama's win. Thank you America for making the right choice. Thank you!

Vote!

2008-11-04T08:09:00.000-05:00

I voted today and I'm glad I did. Now you get out there and do the same whether you agree with my choice or not. If you don't speak out you'll never be heard!

A Marathon by the Numbers

2008-10-21T11:11:00.000-05:00

26.2 - Number of miles that constitute a marathon.

644 - Miles I have logged since February.
3 - Weeks spent biking and swimming to rehab a bum knee smack in the middle of the training calendar.
3 - Pairs of running shoes that I went through all during training and racing.
5 - The time of morning that I would have to get up and go run for way too many times to count.
20 - Perhaps the amount of pounds that I lost? We don't have a scale so I can only speculate.
45,000 - Number of participants that signed up for the Chicago Marathon.
50 - Approximately how many paper cups I threw to the ground after gulping precious, precious piss warm Gatorade and water.
80 - The temperature mark that the heat soared above for most of the race day.
11 - My mile split time for the first 13 miles.
13 - The split time that I slid down to after the sun really started to fry.
5.55.45 - Hours it took to finish that damn race. If I ever do this again, I'm pretty certain I could shave and hour or more off of my time. The heat really did nobody any favors that day.
47 - Times I really wanted to quit, but couldn't let myself do it.
13 - Number of eighty-year-old-something grandmothers that passed me. No not really, but I'm sure some could have.
4800 - Dollars raised to go to the Lance Armstrong Foundation to fight Cancer.

9 - Months it has taken me to train, fundraise and complete a marathon.

I don't think it is a stretch to make the comparison of 9 months of marathon training to that of a pregnancy. I'm pretty sure I would know. The experiences of both have had a lot of similarities. In the beginning you jump into the commitment full steam ahead and at first it doesn't seem too hard. As time progresses you get used to the inconvenient changes you have to make and you fall into somewhat of a routine. All the while you try to imagine what the big day is going to be like. It's an event that you can read about all you want, but until you experience it for yourself you can never really understand. Finally, once you tough it out through the final event you are left totally spent and exhausted with an overwhelming whoosh of accomplishment.

I'm so grateful that I decided to take on running this marathon in honor of Herb, Patti and others. It has been spiritually uplifting to set me and my own wants aside and to do something selfless. It felt so good to be on those Chicago streets in my bright yellow Livestrong shirt, showing everyone that I was out there for a reason. It was an honor to wear the names of people that deserved to be remembered and I was more than happy to lend my feet to the cause. Because really, what was one day of me dragging me behind across a finish line compared to those who have had to fight cancer from a hospital bed for months, maybe years? Not much at all and so very worth it.

Nine months later and one marathon completed, I think that perhaps there was a birth. A rebirth of me. I like to believe that with all of these months dedicated to one cause and a few precious people, my sense of compassion has been reignited. It is easy to get caught up in our own lives, and in today's world dealing with our own survival is sometimes more than enough. Financially there is not much I can do to help with many charitable causes, but one thing I can offer is my time. I am finding that in a lot of ways, our presence and time can mean a whole lot more than the dollar, and that is one of the many lessons I hope to carry with me now that I have crossed that finish line.

1 - Marathon ran for charity? Priceless.

Nerves

2008-10-08T12:41:00.000-05:00

I can't believe that marathon day is almost here. The good thoughts and well wishes have started to roll in and for this I am very thankful. The kind words have been acting as mini zen sessions for me, helping to calm my building nervousness. I know that I will never be an elite enough athlete to ever win a race, but nevertheless, I am not impervious to those race day butterflies. Also, there is the lurking doubt of whether my legs will carry me for 26.2 miles. I know that because I can definitely cover 20 I'll be able to make it for the last six (point 2), but doubt is a sneaky devil and a hard one to fend off at that. Beat it self-doubt! You're not welcome here!

Thanks to everyone for the continued support! And to the donors from the past two weeks look for your thank-yous in the mail soon (had to place another button order!).

Let the Taper Commence

2008-09-26T11:46:00.000-05:00

Last Sunday I survived 20 miles. 20 long miles. 20 long miles that were not in a car.

This is to be my last long run before the marathon, and honestly? I think I might be able to pull it off. Those last 6.2 miles might be the death of me, but at least I'll be able to drag my sorry carcass across the finish line. I hope.

I received my sunny yellow Livestrong shirt in the mail the other day. That paired with the obscene amount of miles I have to run every week has really driven home the reality that the marathon is a mere 2 weeks away. I am quaking in my running shorts, but I keep reminding myself that the sooner I run this marathon, the sooner I won't have Sunday runs that last longer than 3 hours. Quite frankly, Powerbar lunches are getting kind of old (because that's how long I'm out there - ugh). The best thing about it though, is that this is for a great cause and really I shouldn't be complaining at all.

So wish me luck this Sunday when my taper weeks begin. Only 15 miles this Sunday.

Woohoo! 'Cause at least it's not 20!

Farewell

2008-09-10T12:18:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry to announce that my second marathon honoree, Patti, passed away this past Friday. In February, when I started on this marathon journey, I had hopes that both Herb and Patti would at least make it long enough to know that I crossed the finish line for them. Sadly, both of their bodies were just too sick, and my run is going to have to be in their memory instead. I'm not sorry that they will miss that opportunity because, quite frankly, both of them had a long, hard struggle with cancer and I could never have wished them a prolonged suffering.

Patti herself was acutely aware of what an undertaking a marathon is. She has been a lifelong athlete and raced many races herself. So when I offered to run in her name, I could tell she understood my gesture and for me that was good enough. Patti was very much a giver and not in a material sense. Sure she would give gifts, but it was the thought and intentions behind them. When I was a kid, anytime that I knew that I would be seeing Patti I was always sure to have a new drawing for her. She would always shower on the praise and encouragement which in turn fueled my desire to grow my skills. Every once in awhile there would be pencils and markers accompanying those compliments.

Over the years, new running shoes also showed up because of her. She lead an active and healthy lifestyle, and when me and my best friend showed an interest in track she wholeheartedly supported us. I took my own initiative to become a runner, and I very much followed my dad's lead, but Patti was a strong supporter of a great habit to form. I call myself a runner, and I believe that Patti was a key player in my running past.

And that's how Patti was - a steward of positive growth. She had a sparkle to her and it was easy to see how much she cared about everyone around her. I know without a doubt that those feelings are reciprocated. Patti will be missed very much by many, including myself.

Kindergartener Extraordinaire

2008-09-02T12:05:00.001-05:00

Time really does fly when you're having fun! It's so hard to believe that Ava is in kindergarten and yet here we are, the first day of school.

Note to Self

2008-08-27T08:29:00.000-05:00

Polishing off that last little bit of Breyer's coffee flavored ice cream before bedtime may not be a good idea. While the carton does not specify that the product may or may not be caffeinated, they do proudly boast all natural ingredients.

Even if the coffee flavored ice cream was not in fact giving me a buzz, the placebo effect sure was effective at 1:00 in the morning.

Appreciation Detour

2008-08-12T07:46:00.001-05:00

All of you must be thinking that I fell of the the face of fantasmo because my training had amped up and I was too busy running all the time. If only that were the case. My training has taken a slight detour, and for the past month I have been busting my butt to find alternative ways to, well, bust my butt.

You see, shortly before the 15K race, I noticed that my right knee was giving me problems. However I popped a couple of ibuprofen and felt fine for race day. The next training day, however was another story. I knew something wasn't right and instead of trying to power through the pain, I immediately switched to intensive biking and swimming to lessen the impact on my knees.

Things seem to be recovering, but it has been very sloooow going. It has been the ultimate test in patience and a positive attitude, because no matter how much I try to see the upside of things, my brain will sometimes crawl to the dark hole of pessimism. What if... I feel as though I have so many eyes watching and supporting me, and I don't want to let anyone down. I know no one thinks that at all, so mostly, it is me that I don't want to let down. It must be the overachiever, A student in me. The more grown-up version of myself tells me that these kind of things happen, to keep my chin up and to put my best effort forward whether it's on the road, on a bike or swimming laps. It's the commitment that counts (but I really hate failing - really).

I have learned one thing from this little detour of mine: I hate bicycling. Now don't get me wrong, a Sunday stroll is quite nice, and I have never turned down an opportunity to hit a mountain trail, BUT pedaling for miles and miles is too tedious. I have a profound respect for those that can just go and go, because quite frankly, it is sooooo boring. How on earth is bicycling more boring than distance running, you ask? With running I feel like I'm getting somewhere because I can feel the effort immediately. I can smell the flowers as I run by. I can study the sky without having to worry about veering off into a telephone pole. Bugs don't careen into your eyes through that one tiny slit between your nose and sunglasses. Runners smile and wave back at you. Running makes me chill out and most importantly, you don't have to wear a helmet. After weeks of hard running, it was easy to forget most of those perks. So I guess bicycling has one good thing going for it - it made me appreciate how much I would have rather been running!

And that is where I stand in my training progress. After a short run, my knee still aches so on with the cross-training I go. Strength-training and pilates ahoy, with a side of more patience. And as an extra precaution, next week I shall talk to my doctor to make sure I'm not truly defective, at least not physically.

Happy running everyone! or pedaling! or paddling!

Adding to the T-Shirt Collection

2008-07-18T10:55:00.002-05:00

Although the average runner, of which I am, doesn't run races to win them, we are still prone to race day jitters. The more races you run, the more you can combat those nerves, but something very big like a marathon can still feel very daunting. Hence the reason I ran the Cherry Festival 15K last weekend. For fun. No really, it was fun!

A 15K is equal to 9.3 miles and I can hear most of you groaning out there thinking that I must be crazy to elect to run that far. Yet in my mind 9 miles is nothing. In fact, after I crossed to finish line on Saturday I would have had almost two more of those exact races to go to finish a marathon. I think in terms of not how many miles I have just run, but of how many more there are to go. And let me tell you, I have a loooong way to go.

The race was not all just fun and games though. It was also an indicator of my true race running pace, and a test to see just how much all of this blasted training is paying off. You might be interested to know that it is going very well. Your donations, after all, are kind of like investments into this marathon. Every donation I receive is like a little bit more incentive to get out there and make all of you proud.

All of you must feel pretty good about this idea because last weekend,
WE MADE GOAL!

From here on out every donation is like icing on the cake and it feels pretty good to know that so many people care. Let's keep those donations coming and give cancer a run for its own money! Pun definitely intended ;)

Holy Moly

2008-06-13T15:46:00.000-05:00

So all of you kind people have decided to completely prove me wrong about what I thought was going to be a long, hard and awkward journey of fundraising. When I started my marathon training in February, I was convinced that the easiest part would be the running. A $3500 goal that was set by the Lance Armstrong Foundation seemed so large and looming, but I figured that if there was anything worth doing it was definitely this, so I committed wholeheartedly.

Here we are in the beginning of June, roughly at the half-way mark to 26.2 day. When I tallied up the dollar signs, we are definitely beyond the half-way mark for donations. In fact we are just about to make the goal and with many weeks ahead of me I hope to surpass it! Every dollar raised is one more dollar towards cancer research, or perhaps one more dollar toward helping to ease a cancer patient's pain. I'm greedy for more - more donations mean less suffering and I am completely on-board with that idea!

I want to take this time to say thank you yet again, and that I truly get all mushy and weepy when I see how generous all of you are. We can't solve the world's problems in a day, but by being such caring humans I like to think that this world is a little better off for it. Thank You for being you!

For those of you who haven't donated yet, relax! I am by no means trying to guilt you into anything, but whenever we meet I get frantic expressions of "Soon! We really mean to get you that donation...!" You guys still have plenty of time and I can accept donations all the way up to the race day in October. And to those that have donated help me spread the word!

Happy Running, everyone!

5 A.M. Is for the Birds...

2008-05-21T13:21:00.000-05:00

And klutzes like me.

Honestly, I don't know how people get up before daylight. It is fortunate that I was born in the latter part of the twentieth century because I would have been the worst pioneer/homesteader/farmhand ever. As the rooster crowed and beckoned me to work, I would have pulled the quilt up over my head and launched a boot at his head. Mornings are not the highlight of my days.

Which is pretty funny considering that from now until October I will have to be one of those crazy morning people. Five long months of early rising - it makes me whimper to think about it, but there is just no way around it. My training runs have now worked up to such a distance that trying to be a good family member and contributing to the household while fitting in the miles is too much for one evening. Besides, summer temperatures are just around the bend and running in the heat of the evening would be absurd. So, this week I have made the switch from pm to am and it hasn't been easy. As I shuffle through the dark and sleeping city, I am amazed to see so many lit up windows. Who are these people and why aren't they sleeping like I wish I was?

And I think it was while I was wishing that I was still asleep this morning when in both a flash and a stretch of time that I ate it. I ate it big time into the ground beneath a pine tree. The sidewalk jumped up, grabbed my ankle and threw me to the ground after it spun me around like a lasso. Really.

No? Okay, so I tripped, but it felt like the sidewalk was taking its revenge based on the velocity with which I slammed into the hard, hard ground. I may or may not have teared up. For the next two miles I was convinced that I had broken my hand and that a trip to the ER was going to be inevitable. Thankfully, my hand cooled off and regained its usability before my run was over. My hip, shoulder and knee did not fare as well and they are now bruised and road rashed. Ow. My pride got pretty bruised too. And this is where I am thankful for running in the wee hours of the morn. Not a single person witnessed my shining moment of grace.

I can't say the same for when I had to drive back an hour later to dig my phone out of the trees.

Getting There

2008-04-29T08:41:00.003-05:00

NOTE: To everyone who has made a recent donation, please know that I am extremely grateful and that I should soon have a Thank You in the mail to you but...

Excuse my tardiness because I am currently waiting on another order of those little guys you see up there. The fact that I keep running out is a direct reflection of how generous all of you are and it gives me warm fuzzies just thinking about it!

This weekend, I attended the funeral service of Herb, one of my marathon honorees. I was touched by how much my running gesture truly meant to his family. I made the commitment to raise money for cancer as a means to settle my frustration and sadness over something that there was no control over. It was to give myself a sense of empowerment and to give something positive back to humanity as a result of it. I wanted to honor the people in my life with cancer and to show them that they were more than just a passing thought to me. I knew my goal would make them smile and maybe even a little proud, I just had no idea how much.

When Herb's wife, Deane, singled me out at the funeral to give me a big hug of thanks it was rather humbling. I had no idea just how much the actions of my goofball self would mean to them. I was touched and inspired to keep at this with even more resolve.

This inspiration couldn't have come at a better time either because, quite frankly, last week beat me to a pulp. As a long-time runner I know bad weeks sometimes happen and that you just have to persevere through them. It will be better next week, usually. Each day, my normal runs were long and my body felt like it was dragging its own dead weight along. My legs burned from fatigue. The weather was less than ideal. However, the distances were not that great and in my crummy state of mind the realization that this short run today was but a mere fraction of a marathon...well, that was a drag too. I once read a quote that said, "One man's mile is another man's marathon," and oh how true that felt last week. I know the saying is meant to be more metaphorical, but it fits so well in the literal sense as well. Last week had my number, and even though I wanted to quit and slink home to my bed, I stuck with it.

So come Sunday, the day after the funeral, I met my long seven-miler with a mix of new found hope and inspiration with a smattering of trepidation.

I launched myself into the first two whole miles of brutal uphill, with the sun and wind at my face. Before I knew it, I was making the long winding turn back into town, rewarded with the downhill portion. Seven miles went by smooth as silk, complete with scenic views of woods and water, and smiles exchanged with strangers on the trail. My mind was calm, my body chugged right along without any pangs and the afternoon was an idyllic sunny day. Everything clicked into place.

I've never experienced the so-called runner's high, but for me Sunday's run was just as good as one. That run combined with the positive affirmations of Herb's family make the upcoming long miles look a little less scary. Bring it marathon training calendar!

Phew

2008-04-22T10:08:00.002-05:00

Apparently my empty threats against Mother Nature finally paid off and spring has at last sprung. More likely, the earth finally spun and tilted just right to make use of the sun's rays and Mother Nature did her thing in her own good time. I like to pretend I had something to do with it though.

Along with the great thaw, new germy gook started to get passed around and it took me down with it for a good solid week. My garden and lawn languished underneath piles of dead grass and rotting leaves. Little sprouts of life pushed through the layers to give hints that blooms weren't far behind. "Soon! Soon I will rake!" I promised them as I went hacking back into the house to quiver and moan on the sofa. The cold thoroughly kicked my behind. But! I hopped right back into life and was pounding the pavement once again.

This weekend I got my obligatory spring blisters and my grass is thanking me. Seeds are incubating nicely in their boxes and the garden dirt is bare and awaiting its bulbs. I stare longly at the unsprouted herb seeds. I have a measly five dried basil leaves from last year and I so badly want to crush them up and snort them right up my nostrils. The smell of fresh herbs is so intoxicatingly good! Instead, I've been hoarding my last few leaves trying to make them last just a little bit longer. I can't bear the thought of having to use store-bought basil, the horror!

Once you get accustomed to fresh or even dried home-grown herbs, anything store-bought is just not the same. The smells and flavors are not as intense and you might as well be sprinkling your meals with sawdust. I never used to realize how much herbs could change the essence of a meal, but I have since learned and there is no going back now! Your chicken soup is nothing without fresh sage. Believe me, you should try it. My entire backyard would be a basil plantation if I knew there was any way I could get away with it. For some reason, Rick objects. He wants nice grass to lounge upon...whatever. His love of basil does not run as deep as mine.

And that is where I stand. Finally healthy, still running miles and miles, and staring impatiently at my herb garden. How's your spring treating you?

Scavenger Hunt

2008-04-01T15:51:00.000-05:00

Not much to report from fantasmoland other than to conclude that I hate Mother Nature. She is spiteful and that's not a very attractive trait. I mean really lady, what is with blustery winds and SNOW? Haven't you had enough? I know I have.

Pulling out the extra fleeces aside, I have been trolling the internets for new music. There are many runners who believe that listening to music takes away from the run - the connection and spirituality of it. Others think it's just plain dangerous to have the distraction. I have spent many hours running with and without headphones and I really don't see what all the fuss is about. I think you should do whatever floats your boat, but if you do run with headphones to keep the volume down enough to hear traffic around you. I find that just the right song at the right moment can enhance the pace so why fight it? Besides, most nights it is a challenge just to get my lazy butt out the door so every little bit of motivation counts. If it takes a screamin' guitar and a thumping bass line to be my crutch through the miles, I'm okay with that. I think I spend too much time between my ears anyhow, so the music plus the activity of pounding the pavement is a nice little break from thinking. Other days it helps the contemplation and new thoughts have a chance to sneak in on a melody.

With that in mind, I have listened to everything on my ipod too many times. The favorites have lost their appeal and the songs that I would always fast forward through are still just as unpopular. I am sick of all my music. Yes, all of it (including the stuff that lives outside of the tiny white box). It doesn't help that I think that I may be a music snob. Rick gladly pointed out the other day that the first thing out of my mouth when a song comes on the radio is, "This song sucks," or, "Why do they always play such crap?" I apparently don't like anything ever and I can't help but think that Rick made a good point.

What on earth do I like? After days of searching itunes, blogs and music websites I don't think that I'm any closer to quantifying that answer. I just know I like it when I hear it. Real deep stuff over here. With hours of listening ahead of me, I'm certain to be on the look out for good tunes for quite awhile. The plan is to wipe the ol' ipod dry and start over. So if you can think of anything I absolutely need to hear, all suggestions will be considered!

Tell me, what is your favorite band/singer/song?

Forty-One Percent

2008-03-22T08:57:00.001-05:00

Already I have been amazed by the generous amounts that people have been donating to my marathon adventure. Because I send the checks to the foundation's clearing house for them to add to my goal totals, it is taking awhile for my donation page to reflect the actual amount that people have given.

I have stated many times that the thought of having to raise so much money was intimidating. It was a sobering moment when I faxed the fundraising committee access to my checking account. It is their way of insuring that you are who you say you are, and that you won't flake out three weeks before the marathon. I can't blame them for wanting the assurance that you are truly committed to the cause. And of course if I meet my goal of $3500 they will have no reason to even glance at my bank account.

I don't want to jinx myself, but I think that meeting that lofty goal may not be as hard as I previously imagined. Because here I am in March at 41% of the way to the $3500. If I persist all the way to October and get as many donations as I can, maybe just maybe I can get even more money than anticipated for fighting cancer!

And then instead of having to worry about dollar signs, I will have to focus on the real challenge - twenty-six point two miles. In a row. All at the same time. Phew!

Thank you again to all of my contributors! It means the world to me and to the families that I am running for.

Dear Mother Nature,

2008-03-13T12:56:00.001-05:00

First off, let me just say that I'm you're biggest fan. Sunsets, snowflakes, birds chirping, lakes, streams, fjords - all of it ranks high in my book. Bravo to you for many a millennia of keeping the seasons and flora and fauna on track.

But if I may, let me point out that days of sub-zero temperatures combined with days of sun and mass-melt makes for very dicey running surfaces. I'd rather see the snow melt into spring, but if it must be cold then please let it stay cold enough to prevent the snow from turning into acres of slow moving glacier fields covering all of the sidewalks and streets. I'm really hoping to make it to July without a broken ankle, or you know, neck. Since running on a treadmill is not an option due to budgetary constraints, I really am at your mercy, oh Green and Beautiful Gaia. Please take pity on this less than graceful runner, please?

Your humble admirer,
Amber

On a Lighter Side

2008-03-11T07:56:00.002-05:00

Ava and I took advantage of free lift tickets and sunshine this past Sunday. When my Mom offered to treat in turn for a few snowboarding lessons, I didn't hesitate to take her up on the offer. You never turn down free lift tickets. Never.

A long time ago in a galaxy far away, I was a young thing that acted on flights of fancy (as most eighteen-year-olds do) and when my best friend decided to move to Tahoe, I followed her. Only months into my return from my year as an exchange student, I was desperate to escape the smallness of Northern Michigan. How could I have resisted the promise of mountains and the care-free lifestyle of a ski town? For the next few years, I spent the life of a ski instructor and I got pretty good at it. I made the effort to learn from the old pros and I worked at getting the different levels of certification. Hundreds of hours were spent in my ski boots, but I loved every moment of it. The sunshine, the snow, the mountains and the exhilaration of tearing down the slopes at breakneck speeds.

And then when Ava came into the picture, it was time to grow up. The six month cycle of finding a new job every summer while you waited for the winter was not a lifestyle I wanted for my family. Even if Rick and I had an equal love for the hills. So we waited. Rick and I would still go to our local hill and have fun, but for the past few years we have been waiting for the day Ava would join us.

Sunday that day finally came. And beaming mom pride aside, Ava has a natural knack for skiing. Her little legs popped right into the snowplow position and she was rearing to go. I can't tell you how many lessons I've had where it would take a kid all day and a bazillion progression exercises to be able to get their legs to go where they wanted them to go. Thank you natural athletic ability!

I know our ski season is coming to a close, but you can bet that Ava will be back out there in full force next year. She will be a little ripper, if I know my girl. A mini speed demon. Only downside is that I will have to go back to skis for awhile, and oh how I will miss my comfy snowboard boots!

Ava Learns to Ski from Amber Wendels on Vimeo.

In Spirit

2008-03-05T13:09:00.000-05:00

One my marathon cancer honorees is Herb, a good family friend. His body just couldn't fight the fight anymore and he passed away quietly yesterday. I know that death is hard and sad to endure when you are the one left behind, but I cannot begrudge Herb of finally being relieved from all of the pain that cancer was wreaking on him.

I by no means claim to be psychic, but sometimes it seems as though the universe can go momentarily kittywompus and things feels somehow slightly off kilter. Yesterday was one of those days. Coworkers were crabby, I was moody, the whole day just felt dreary and heavy. And now that I know Herb passed on yesterday, I kind of understand all of the dreariness. The world was weeping the loss of another good soul.

Despite all of our vast differences, we humans are all interconnected. Like dominoes we stand and we fall together. We choose how our actions bump into others and how it affects the cycle of action/reaction. Instead of looking at Herb's death as a loss, I am instead going to focus on and honor what we (his family and friends) have gained by having had him in our lives. And in the way that Herb was a kind, happy and giving man, I shall take the example he has set and strive to be the same way. It certainly can't hurt to tumble the dominoes in a positive direction.

Affirmation

2008-02-21T08:04:00.003-05:00

The letters that I have been composing for the purpose of convincing people to donate to my marathon cause haven't even been printed yet. Because I have a couple of cool little things up my sleeve, I pushed sending them out to next week when all of my shipments have come in. Even so, word of what I've been up to has started to get around, and already people are wholeheartedly giving me support. It is humbling to think that people are counting on me to accomplish this marathon goal and to raise all of that money, but because they have such positive faith in me I know I can do it.

Strangely, last weekend Rick and I went furniture shopping and had kind of a "huh, cool" moment. The store that we went to was a larger chain store that had at least fifteen to twenty sales associates. The place was pretty busy because it was a Presidents' Day sales event. As was expected we were greeted by a nice older woman at the door who was then our got-to-gal for any questions and suggestions. When we were ready to actually make our purchase, she was busy with a returning customer and had asked a co-worker to help us out. He was a friendly guy and we didn't think much of his bald head at first.

As we sat filling out the final paperwork, someone mentioned how much they like my winter hat. Our sales guy jokingly said that he could use one as he was freezing all of the time due to his health problems. It took Rick and I a moment to catch on that he was referring to having cancer. Rick made mention that I was just starting my campaign to raise money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation and that I would be running a marathon this fall. The salesman's face lit up and he said he was reading Lance Armstrong's autobiography. You could tell that it was a source of inspiration for him.

As we finished our transaction and he walked us to the door, he thanked me numerous times for committing to such a worthy cause. Imagine that. Him thanking me. Gratitude from a complete stranger, who is fighting a battle of his own. Somehow, it seemed as though I should have been grateful to him because meeting him was one more sign that I am doing the right thing. Of all of the sales people that could have helped us that day, it was the one person that could have connected with us in a special way. As I plod along my daily miles, I have one more person to keep in mind to force me to not give up. Rick and I felt happy that if anyone should receive a sales commission, that our money was going to a person who needs it the most.

Keep the kind words coming everybody! All of the positive vibes really make me think that I can pull this off. Plus the more pumped I am about this, the more I think I can really get people to give. A smile is contagious, laughing heals and I want to help spread that along.

UPDATE:
And the world just gets smaller - or at least the county. A few nights ago, my family was discussing this encounter we had with some of my aunts and uncles. My aunt works at our local hospital and had recently overheard one of her coworkers talking about her boyfriend and his cancer. Want to guess who that guy was? Yep, it was him. So now everyone keeps telling me I should knit him a hat to keep his noggin warm. I only wonder if I could knit fast enough to beat the oncoming spring!

Getting Down to Business

2008-02-15T09:53:00.000-05:00

After a good week of diving through articles and digging through the trenches of the web, I think I have come up with a pretty good marathon training plan. Yesterday, I laid it all out and printed it up on a nice, concise calendar. One for home and one for the office so I can't possibly go a day without having a reminder of the commitment I have made.

Seeing the numbers neatly lined up is all at once horrifying and reassuring. Thirty-four weeks looks like flash of time stacked up in neat rows. But the total miles of running seems so much more doable when you see that they slowly build over time. I have a feeling that my reaction to the calendar is going to reflect how I feel on race day. At first petrified, but then as I take each mile slow and steady confidence will build little by little to the finish line. Besides, I'll have the satisfaction of being well prepared with weeks of training. At least that's what I'm banking on!

And can I give a big WooHoo! for my first donation?! Yes, WooHoo! Dad and Joann have set the bar pretty high, and I must admit that it makes me want to get out there and get donations twice as hard now. (Yellow button over to the left - nudge, nudge)

Happy Weekend Everyone!

Real Love

2008-02-14T08:36:00.005-05:00

Potty training Ava was not a breeze. She's a bright, independent girl, but getting her to go on the potty was a challenge for the entire family so it should come as no surprise that making it through the night is our last, oh so long, hurdle. It's not so much getting her tiny bladder to hold it for ten hours, but to teach her how to GET UP out of bed and make the ten steps from her door to the bathroom. We've tried everything. I guess she's just a very sound sleeper.

Enough with the pee-pee back story. This morning as I was helping Ava clean up from her nighttime accident, Ava exclaimed, "Wow! You're a good wiper, Mom!"

Good wiper indeed. Sweet-pea, you have no idea. Considering I have been wiping your bottom for the past 4 1/2 years, I would only hope that I have gained some bottom-swiping skill despite the unpleasantness of it. And that's what Valentine's Day is really about, right? Taking the time to appreciate, not the sweet things that your love does for you, but the not so pleasant things that someone will tolerate all for you. So thank-you Ava for noticing. I love you too.

And not to leave Rick out because, this week especially, his love has not gone unnoticed. For two days straight, Rick shimmied and snaked his way through our three-foot deep, dirt-floored, cobweb infested basement to unfreeze our upstairs hot water pipe. And he did it without really complaining. The dusty cobwebs would have sent me over the edge and I would have been a whiny fool if I had been the one down there. Nothing says love and devotion like being the one to deal with the plumbing. A shower after two and a half days never felt better. Thank-you babe! I love you too.

Usually, every year I make Ava's valentines to hand out and this year was no exception. I thought I'd share one with you!

So what's with all of the yellow?

2008-02-08T21:48:00.001-05:00

It dawned on me the other day, that fantasmo had not had a design change since August of '06. That was record breaking because normally fantasmo gets a facelift every four months when I get bored of my own design. It was way overdue for some change.

However, some sad news reached me these past couple of weeks. Not one, but two people dear to our family were given only months by their doctors because of cancer. Cancer has also taken other family members and friends. It is a sad fact that soon I will have to use more than two hands to count the people close to me who have had to deal with and fight cancer. For so long I have felt helpless while at the same time wishing there was something more that I could do other than offer support and condolences. Hearing that sad news prompted me once and for all to find a solution to act upon.

Everyone has seen the yellow wristbands for the Lance Armstrong Foundation that raises money for cancer research and patient programs. 80% of all the money raised goes specifically to those programs which is a fantastic percentage compared to other non-profit organizations. The LAF is a very recognizable and reputable organization and it didn't take me very long to figure out that I wanted to be a part of it, so I applied to run a marathon. In turn for a guaranteed race entry I have pledged to raise $3,500. Considering I can barely save enough cash to buy anything beyond groceries, this task seems a little daunting. That and I'm terrible about putting myself out there and asking strangers for money.

BUT, this is a very worthwhile cause and I have made promises to those two very special people that I will run this for them. I will set my insecurities aside and do everything I can to do my part in fighting cancer. Because every dollar raised, every step ran is one step closer to a cure!

So please bear with me these next few months as I train for a whopping 26.2 miles. I can't guarantee there won't be a little whining about sour muscles, but I'll do my best to keep it to a minimum. However, I can guarantee I'll be asking for your help with donations. So spread the word and don't hesitate to hit that yellow donation button to your left over there!

IF: Tales & Legends

2008-01-30T13:53:00.000-05:00

Slue Foot Sue was the true love of Pecos Bill and the legend goes, that they were to be married. However, she decided to take a ride on Bill's mean horse Widowmaker. He bucked her off and the huge bustle bounced her all the way to the moon. I imagine her up there still steaming about her ruined wedding day.

It's Not You, It's Me

2008-01-28T14:18:00.000-05:00

Oh wait. It is you, television.

Four years. That is how long Rick and I suffered without cable tv and had to survive on only two network channels. When we bought our house, there wasn't an antenna hook-up so it was either pay for cable or go completely without television. Seeing as an internet connection is my own personal fix, no cable was not an option.

Since May, cable television has been on our tube non-stop and I feel dumberer for it (yes, that was intentional). I find myself suffering from commercial ADD, where all I do for an hour straight is flip between three programs in a desperate ploy to avoid all commercials. Consequently, I don't think I have ever watched a show through to completion. Which if I was learning something from said show, it would be a shame, but because cable programming on a whole is nothing but crap... Does that mean my brain is filling with choppy tidbits of useless crap? More than likely.

Which is why I've decided to give up television for the entire month of February. Don't mock me for picking the shortest month of the year. It has more to do with the fact that I don't want to wait to act on this idea instead of letting the idea fall to the wayside. Too often I feel like a second-rate artist because I don't create and produce often enough. I feel constantly trapped in a permanent dry spell. For once, I feel like that inner-critic is starting to shutup, and instead of draining my free time in front of a stupid box, I want to stop and listen. To myself.

Take away the mindless hours in front of a television and what is left? Lot's of time to focus on my new ideas and, for once, begin to act on them.

The only exception to my no TV rule is weekend movies. Northern Michigan is notorious for cabin fever this time of year, and often Rick and I will cozy up on the couch and watch a movie on Sunday afternoons. This is one luxury I will not be giving up. Even if by "cozy" I really mean, crammed together on our less than comfortable love seat.

Feel free to join me in my venture. I'm hoping to have some sort of something to show for my time away from the idiot box.

Fergus McAaaargh!

2008-01-23T12:13:00.000-05:00

Fergus will now have to wear doggy mittens and goggles for the remainder of his sweet life. No, not really but I must admit that I gave the notion some serious consideration. A few weeks ago, we noticed him squinting the same left eye that he injured this past fall. In a matter of days his eye went from nothing big to, "Oh my god, dog! What have you done?!" Back on went his cone and back to the vet went us.

Another eye surgery later, Fergus is quickly becoming a very valuable dog, pound for pound. Wish him some luck, as today his stitches come out. His eye was so bad that the vet dropped hints of losing his eye all together. Let's just hope for the best and not the worst, shall we!

UPDATE: He's neither blind nor eyeless. Woohoo!

Disgruntled

2008-01-19T20:32:00.000-05:00

I don't like being the mom who talks about every minute detail of their child's development, especially the not so pleasant snotty stuff.

However, Rick and I have been knee deep in green gook ever since Ava started pre-school. Weeks and weeks of slimy nose goblins with any promise of her getting healthy dashed until the warmer months roll around. And seeing as this is Michigan, Ava's nose is going to be a faucet for months to come.

And here is where I would like to thank you, other pre-school moms and dads. Because it is you that I see dragging your four-year-old out into sub-freezing temperatures without hats, or unzipped winter coats, or no hats and mittens, or no winter boots or best of all; all of the above. If you can't be bothered to spend an extra thirty seconds to bundle up your child, I'm pretty sure that you don't make them cover their mouth when they cough. I bet handwashing might be asking much too. To top it off, you also haul your sickly kid back in the morning to spread the bacterial love.

Our hats are off to you sucky, pre-school parents. This winter wouldn't have been the same without you. A toast from this damp, wadded kleenex to yours!

Coincidence?

2007-12-06T19:43:00.000-05:00

Unless you are a close friend or family member, few know that during my senior year of high school I was an exchange student in Denmark. It's not a secret and it's not because I'm not proud of my experience, but people rarely learn of my foreign adventure anymore because I lead a pretty quiet life now. Plus, it was exactly ten years ago that I lived half way around the world, so one would hope that I have moved on by now and my four-year-old has guaranteed that.

Although, every once in awhile I get lonesome for the place that was once my temporary home. I miss the culture and big-city life, but mostly I just miss the people. The year I lived in Denmark, I was seventeen/eighteen and that is a very pivotal time period for most teenagers. While I was away, just having to learn to cope in a foreign culture and a new language helped shape the person that I am today. Granted, I was going to be who I am no matter what, but that year was a part of my process of how I turned out. In twelve short months I grew up a lot.

With that understanding, most of that year overseas is now just a memory. I rarely think about it much anymore, but every once in awhile something will creep up on me like just the other night in a dream. As pure happenstance, I met some of my old danish classmates in a reunion fashion by pure coincidence. It was very joyous and we spent most of my dream catching up on how our lives had been going for the past ten years. My classmates were happy to see me and I them. Keep in mind that because they were my danish classmates, we were speaking in their fluent tongue, danish. I rarely ever dream in danish anymore. It is rare enough that when I woke up I remembered the entire dream sequence and the warm fuzzies that it brought me. I reminisced for a little while and went on with my day not thinking too much else of it.

Fast forward to 2:00 in the afternoon, me plugging away at a client's ad design. Into the art department walks in one of our senior account executives with one of his best clients from many states away. This is his client's first visit to our office and it is well known that he originally hails from Denmark. I was dumbstruck because I had no idea that he was coming to visit and when we had a chance to meet, I got to speak with him in his own language. It was very surreal as I haven't spoke a lick of conversational danish in years (barring dreams of course).

I took this as a sign. So many times in the past I have felt compelled to track down my old classmates that went above and beyond to make me feel welcomed in a land of total strangers, and thank them. After my dream, I thought perhaps now was the time to act on it. And then when a Dane walked straight into my cubicle the very same day, I was convinced.

I'm no psychic, but I do know when the universe is trying to tell me something. Later that night I googled all of my classmate's names and was elated to find that most of them were leading happy and successful lives. Perhaps this year when I place my Christmas card order, I will order just a few more.

Bleck

2007-11-09T15:58:00.000-05:00

I don't know what it is, but work has been dead. Deader than dead. If you have ever gone sailing before, I can liken it to the times when you'll be sailing along at a nice clip when all of a sudden your sail luffs and then...nothing. You sit there bobbing aimlessly on the water beginning to wonder just how long the wind has gone awol.

The internet can entertain you for only so long before you get bored of slacking off. So you turn to sucky illustration. Or at least that is how mine turns out. Somehow, when I have hours at my fingertips to be completely free to create, my brain takes a nosedive into mediocre land. It seems I only get sparks of great ideas when I'm on the verge of sleep, or during a production meeting that requires my utmost attention. And most days, by the time I get home I'm so drained from my day of creating other people's ads that most of my spark has been tapped dry.

I think I need to try the Artist's Way again, or at least work harder at some creative balance in my life. I was raised to have a very good work ethic, so most of my jobs get the very best I can give. This makes for very happy clients but an unhappy me when it comes to my own projects. However, when I consider putting less of myself into clients' jobs I feel guilty. I just can't bring myself to give any less than 100%.

Balance. Something I need to really wrap my head around because I really need to get my artsy fartsy flowing again.

The above illo is based on a doodle from one of the super important production meetings I mentioned. Shows how much I really concentrate, huh.

Year of the (Injured) Dog

2007-10-24T07:50:00.000-05:00

This has not been his year. Back in July when he needed knee surgery, I boasted that Fergus was a very healthy dog and very low cost with the vet bills. I should have kept my yap shut. Fergus has been making up for the last nine years in less than four months.

I can't be too mad at him though because I think his latest injury's humiliation factor evens things out. Nothing looks more pathetic on a pooch than an Elizabethan collar and Fergus is no exception. People don't know whether to laugh or cry at him.

I personally like to laugh and then give him extra hugs. I don't think he minds the little dollup of gravy that I've been sneaking into his dry food either.

That Day Has Come

2007-10-12T15:30:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, Ava and I walked to the car where Rick was waiting for us after pre-school. As she got into her car seat she proudly showed Rick her worksheets and drawings that she had done that day. On one half-sheet of green construction paper was a crooked C made from glued on Cheerios. Rick and Ava were discussing the merits of the letter C when Ava declared that when we got home she was going to eat them.

"No Ava, you cannot eat the Cheerios. They have glue on them and they could make your tummy sick," explained Rick.

"Oh. Okay."

This conversation went round and round until we both believed that Ava had gotten the point. Fast forward ten minutes to when we were home and settling in for the evening.

Ava went up to her room to presumably put her shoes and coat away. It got suspiciously quiet. Rick decided to investigate. What he found was a green half-sheet of construction paper with a crooked glue line in the shape of the letter C.

Ava had hurriedly plucked each and every Cheerio off and jammed them into her face as quickly as possible, knowing that she would be in trouble if we caught her. Unfortunately for her, Rick busted her with the incriminating evidence and she had to go an entire evening without a movie or dessert. Oh the wretchedness of being four!

I kind of had to laugh to myself because I knew that this would be one of those little incidents that get remembered for years. Funny thing is that if Ava had wanted a snack either one of us would have gladly given her one. But it wasn't about being hungry. For the first real time, Ava succumbed to a temptation despite knowing there would be consequences. If only this was to be the worst thing to try and lead her astray in life - Being a glue eater.

Fairy Princess

2007-09-11T15:52:00.000-05:00

An extremely slow day today, here at the old job. Ava would totally dig this. Perhaps we'll have to hang it up in her room.

Renegade

2007-09-04T09:29:00.000-05:00

Ahhh, the end of summer and just as everything is starting to taper off, I have sunflowers ready to bloom. Granted, they are mini sunflowers, but I'm sure they'll be lovely nevertheless. The seeds sprouted in my garden after the birds got a little overly zealous at the feeder. I didn't have the heart to pluck them. Hopefully they'll be generous with their blooms since I showed them such mercy.

Impromtu

2007-07-31T12:50:00.000-05:00

Lately, I've been feeling the creative drain as a direct result of punching things out at break-neck speeds at work. The ninty-degree weather hasn't been helping either.

Some days I wish I was four again. And if I wanted to stick my head straight in the sand, butt up in the air and give the "Look Mom, No Hands!" gesture, I totally would. Such wreckless abandon and lack of feeling like a fool is an admirable trait that all children possess.

I think I may need to go channel some of that right now. Preferably under a sprinkler.

Sun God

2007-07-27T14:10:00.000-05:00

Fergus

2007-07-11T10:49:00.001-05:00

Who's tired of looking at me? I certainly am. How about some in-your-face Chihuahua instead.

The poor little guy goes in for knee surgery tomorrow. For the longest time I was proud to have raised a fairly healthy dog that didn't rack up huge vet bills, however I think I jinxed myself. I'm not complaining though because in August he will be nine and that's a pretty good streak of luck if you ask me. According to the chart at the vet's office, his real age is around 52 and I suppose his joints just aren't what they used to be. Ask me how my knees are doing when I get to be that age.

Smooches for the Ferg. Mwah!

Anyone else enjoying his rather short haircut?

My Lovely Sisters

2007-06-13T09:20:00.000-05:00

Rachel (the graduate) and Kelly are only two years apart in age. I average a decade more than the two of them, so often I was above their sibling squabbles. When they were small, Rachel would bound ahead of Kelly, off to play with the neighborhood pack of kids. Kelly being smaller was often left in Rachel's dust, longing to be bigger and older.

As the two of them aged, the social and physical gap narrowed and a friendly competition of "Who's Taller" began. Rachel held her height over Kelly for years, but Kelly slowly sprouted up. Now you can see they are practically equals.

And here I would like to point out that their competition was all for naught. Now that they are both on the verge of adulthood (and no more growth spurts) I reign supreme in the winner's circle. I'm taller than you two! Nah nah, nah nah naaaaaah!

Sorry girls. I just had to.

Freaking Out a Little Less

2007-05-03T07:43:00.001-05:00

Well, so much for keeping with my own promise of updating daily with my running goals. Please don't take my silence as a sign of slackerism, on the contrary. Rick and I have been knee deep in the adventure of home buying. We found a place that we think we can really call home and after the ups and downs that putting in a offer and then getting the actual loan entails, things are finally in the homestretch. We close in a couple of weeks and I don't think we could be any more impatient about it.

Other than that nothing much to report. Project House took up most of our free time and now Project Pack will be starting up this weekend. Winter decided to loosen its cold, tight grip from our region and sparks of green are starting to peek out from the brown. No other season starts quite as gloriously as Spring. And at no other time is the neon green of fresh leaves a more welcome sight, except of course in our new house's bathroom. Yes, it is that green. Rick and I have unanimously voted to paint that room first. Second to fluorescent lighting, nothing can make a person look more sickly than being surrounded by four Ultra Lime Green walls.

Think I'm kidding? Behold!

Excursions to Home Depot have taken on a whole new level of meaning for us. Now we can peruse the aisles of home improvement goodness and actually have the home to improve upon. I get all giddy just thinking about it. Rick has had to limit my intake of paint swatches or else I would come home with a "phonebook" of colors (his exact term). I can't help it. Us artist types become dizzy with all the possible great color combinations. Except for Ultra Lime Green in the bathroom.

Miles Today: 4.0 Through the duration of this house-buying roller coaster I have not sat on my butt. I have been a very good little trainer and have been sticking to my training calendar fairly well. By fairly well, I mean that I have been getting out there and getting the miles in...just not at a very speedy pace. Who said I was going to win this race? Not this girl, I just want to not finish dead last!

Let the Freak Out Session Commence

2007-04-05T17:12:00.000-05:00

No amount of meditating and controlled breathing seems to be helping to keep my stress levels down. Today, our landlord totally beat us to the punch and sold our residence before we could get ourselves into a new house. We have little over 30 days to be out.

What are the odds of finding a decent house, closing on it, packing all of our crap and moving into said new house in less than a month? Slim to none? That's what I thought.

This is not helping to quell my need to quit swearing like a sailor. Where's the booze?

Miles Today: 0.0 I can run in the cold. I can run in the wind. I cannot run in the windy, cold and I am too poor to own a treadmill. Yoga it will have to be.

Skull & Bones

2007-04-03T20:36:00.001-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, I was struck with a fancy to knit something for myself for a change. No, strike that. A couple of months ago I had another idea to knit for myself; a pair of nice, wooly, striped knee socks in the same colors as Mr. Skull up there. The project was going along swimmingly until I realized that my yarn supply was not going to see me through to the toes of even one sock. No problem, it was off to the yarn store for some more.

Mistake Number One: I had Ava with me. A curious little girl in a store full of all things crafty can become an easy distraction.

Mistake Number Two: I made a quick assumption. Sure the label was from the same brand and sure the colors were an exact match, but did I bother to check if they were even the same kind of yarn? No, obviously not because the difference between wool and acrylic is light years apart. However, I was dumb enough to not notice while holding them in my hands for the entire 100 yd. walk up to the cash register.

Mistake Number Three: I did not immediately return the yarn the next day. And because I am the master procrastinator I was the proud owner of yarn that I didn't need.

So there it sat. Right next to my unfinished wooly, striped knee sock.

Fast forward to spring when no one needs to where a winter hat anymore. I came up with the idea to make a girly punk rock skull hat. I haven't rushed ahead to get it done right away because the gloriously warm and sunny days don't exactly scream, "Hey! Sit down and knit!"

Now we are expecting up to 8 fresh inches of snow this evening. Poo.

Miles Today: 3.0

How I Beat the Boogeyman

2007-03-29T19:52:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I never actually conquered my fear of the dark this winter with my evening runs. Seeing as I've gone this long in my life and I still hate to walk/run through the dark woods, I doubt that this fear is ever going to get kicked to the curb.

Instead, I will carry on as usual and always double check the batteries in my very bright headlamp. Getting a large dog couldn't hurt any either. I will continue to wrap myself in day-glo yellow striped with patches of reflective material, cell phone ready in my front pocket. I may not be able to overcome my irrational fear of the dark, but at least I'll be my own glowing sphere. More importantly, I will not let this silly fear stop me from my need to run...in fact I usually up my pace a notch in those dark winter months. Harder to catch me that way.

So now that the early winter nights are behind us, why am I still talking about them? Why is there a need to dwell upon the winter dark when my evening jaunts are well before the sun sets? Because I need to say how proud I am that I plowed on through the dark all winter long. In years past, I would always quit just after Thanksgiving and wouldn't start back up until April. I would hibernate and become moody with cabin fever.

And because I persevered, I think this has been one of the easiest winters for me ever, emotionally speaking. My spring running routine has felt light footed, as I didn't have to start from square one all over again. The spring rains haven't felt as cold compared to the icy pelt of snow, and the hum of the spring peepers are a welcome change to the quiet of frozen ponds.

I am thankful that I pushed my limits this winter, and this is where I get to the point. I think the tide of spring has brought a wave of optimism, and I decided to make some goals for my running. I shall run a 15K this summer. I have done it before, but that was before the dawn of Ava. I have fifteen weeks to whip my desk job butt into race shape, and in an attempt to shame myself into sticking with the program I have decided to make my mileage public. Most of you are too kind to really razz me if I don't follow through, but it will mostly be myself who will be providing the most guilt tripping. If anything, it will ensure a little more content here at fantasmo, which I have noticed has gone quite stale.

Miles Today: 2.0 Not much, I know but does going in the pouring rain count for something?