September 25, 2009

Balloon Rally







Last weekend, we watched the balloon rally at the 2009 F-bo Airfest. I'd never been to the airfest before but I wanted to watch the balloons take off. I don't know where my recent fascination with hot air balloons came from, but I've been thinking a lot about trying it out one day. Matt and I had a very expensive chance to balloon over the Serengeti, but, at $475 per person, we opted out. Now I wish I had. My only other sort of chance was at Downtown Disney this past summer, where they have a moored balloon that floats straight up 400 feet over Disney World. I was ready to drop 20 bucks on that but it was way too windy the day we went. Oh well.

So I settled for a local balloon launch. Actually Matt and I stalled until the last minute. Matt was napping, and I was exhausted. We didn't want to pay the money to get into the airfest, and neither of us really wanted to go to the airport, since it's a place that holds some difficult memories for us. But we rallied (hahaha) and drove out to the industrial park nearby to watch about 6 balloons took off from the F-bo airport. They floated over our car and over the corn fields, and soon Matt and I took off like tornado trackers.

I've been down a lot lately, feeling tired, sad, and stressed. The airport here is a place of great sadness for me, not exactly a place I expected to find some joy, yet chasing the hot air balloons with Matt made me happy. It was a really simple distraction, something we almost skipped out on, but for that day, it made all the difference.

September 21, 2009

Out of My Comfort Zone

Today I tried something I never thought I would ever ever try.

I went to a water aerobics class. Deep water aerobics.

A friend of mine at work approached me a little sheepishly one day, and said, "Hey, Courtney... You've been wanting to start exercising a little more, right?"

And then I found myself in the deep end of the pool at the F-bo rec center, with a "weight" belt around my waist and a pair of "dumbbells" at the pool's edge.

It was fun, and I found myself laughing throughout the whole thing... and breathing hard. And I think I'll go back.

September 20, 2009

The Bee

This weekend I made a realistic to-do list, and Matt and I did nearly everything on the list. Even though it was "realistic," the tasks were not small ones.

I had to tutor a student, go to my office for a couple hours, cash checks at the bank, and jog a couple miles. Check, check, check, check. Matt and I cleaned the kitchen, used 1/2 of all the ground cherries from Thorncrest Farms in salsa, and rode 21 miles on the Cannon River Trail. I know, impressive, right?

On top of all that, we followed through on eating one of the three melons we got this week, fixed the screen that our beloved Bernie busted through, and made banana bread cupcakes for 31 teenage boys.

So, when late afternoon came around, and I wanted to take a break, I did. I got myself a beer and a book, and I went outside to sit on our patio. I hooked the dogs up so they could enjoy the weather too --- winter's coming to Minnesota very soon, and we want to hold onto every moment of late summer. Immediately, a bee started hovering around my Corona (probably the lime's fault). Thinking I was smarter than him, I sprayed myself with bug spray and opened my book. Happily, I took a swig of my beer...

... and found myself with the bee in my mouth. He panicked, I'm sure, and stung me inside my upper lip.

So much for a well-deserved rest!

When I posted this as my status update, a friend of mine responded. She and I recently and unexpectedly lost a very good friend, a friend who was well-known for her mishaps. Andrea simply wrote, "that sounds like a Kristen story."

And then I smiled, and I didn't really mind having a swollen lip anymore because I knew Kristen would have just toasted her Corona and enjoyed the moment, mishap and all.

July 27, 2009

Thorncrest Farms (and I am tired)

Inspired by our friends Theresa, Jamie, and Karl, who became members of a community supported agriculture (CSA) farm in New York, Matt and I researched a couple local farms in our area who had similar programs. We found a farm that would let us join mid-season, and last Wednesday, we picked up our first share of locally-grown, chemical-free, just-picked vegetables. We knew the share was large enough for a family of four, but it was summer, and we figured we could handle the challenge.

I was surprised at how excited Matt and I were about joining the program. After I made the initial calls to the farms, Matt asked me several times each day if I'd heard back from any of them. Then, on our pick-up day, we ended up so early, that we went to Menard's for light bulbs and Caribou for coffee.

We both loved visiting the small farm and talking with the farmers. When we asked how to cook some of the vegetables we were less familiar with, a common theme emerged: pan fried in butter. We left with 19 pounds of food, and, like I said, we were ready to take on the challenge of using it. On the way home, I looked at Matt, happy and hopeful for our healthy choices, and he said to me: "You think we can use it all, don't you." I nodded eagerly but he shook his head and said, "I'm not so sure..."

Like we used to do at Halloween, we spread out the bounty when we got home to take it all in. We had beets, rutabaga, kohlrabi, potatoes, onions, broccoli, carrots, red cabbage, green cabbage, cucumbers, basil, zucchini, green beans, snow peas, and radishes.

That night, we stayed up until 1:00 am. We shopped for pickling spices and jars, and then washed, chopped, and parboiled. Since then, the introduction of 19 pounds of vegetables into my home has doubled the number of dishes I've had to do and left me exhausted each night. I've cooked dinner each night, snipped the ends off of an endless supply of beans, and made chocolate zucchini bread. I've got plans yet tonight to make coleslaw and pesto.

(I just had to run to the kitchen to put the wheat bread in the oven.)

We're trying so hard to eat better, cook for ourselves, and make sustainable choices, but I just don't know if this is a sustainable for me. Right now, I'm working shorter days, home usually by 3 pm at the latest. When school hits, especially in my first year as a dorm parent, how can we possibly cook 19 pounds of vegetables each week?

I think we needed to split the share after all. Any takers?

July 19, 2009

Rice County Fair (MN State Fair, here I come)

I love the Minnesota State Fair, and I love the county fairs back home. Yet, somehow, I've managed to miss the Rice County Fair every year I have lived here in Faribault. It's in July, and that tends to be when Matt and I leave Minnesota to travel home or see the world. This year, we got home from Florida just in time for the fair, and I was psyched.

We decided we'd head out on Saturday, and early in the day I started pestering Matt about when we would leave. I had images of cheese curds, fried oreos (see last year's blog), and maybe some cotton candy in my head, not to mention all of the strange chickens and rabbits we'd see in the animal barns. I even brought my camera. We finally headed downtown around 3 pm. Matt made us park in the $2 lot, which was a two minute walk away from the fair grounds. I didn't think the $5 fair parking was that bad, but Matt said, "Just in case we don't stay very long." I should have known then.

Thirty minutes later, we were back in the car.

This is the only photograph I took:

July 18, 2009

The Cost of Being A Princess


All over Disney World, you can see young girls dolled up like Disney Princesses. There's Belle and Ariel, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella and Jasmine... The Disney Princesses have become a major marketing theme at WDW; they even have their own website where you can play games and watch videos (oh, and shop for princess gear).

The packages aren't cheap. The least expensive, at around $50 includes only a princess-style hair-do and a tiara. A full makeover, including a princess dress and shimmery make-up, runs between $189 and $250.


For a very special treat on a Disney-rific vacation, and for a little girl who really wanted it, I guess I can understand spending the money. You know, for a once in a lifetime princess makeover.

But, it was so hot and humid in Orlando in July. No adult, other then the cast members employed by Disney, would even think of wearing a polyester dress and uncomfortable princess shoes while caked in an inch of make-up with their hair pulled back in a tight bun with a tiara. I could understand why we saw so many of the little princesses crying.


(Jasmine and Cinderella)

July 17, 2009

Coming Home


When I was young, my mom always made us clean up our rooms before we left for a trip. It used to annoy me, but I've fallen into the same habit as an adult. Today, after three weeks of traveling and with unpacked boxes from the move left to tackle, I found a happy surprise: a clean bedroom, with a made bed and clean sheets. Simple pleasures, eh?

July 9, 2009

A Visit Home to Connecticut

My mom thinks that I don't think of her home in Connecticut as my home because I didn't grow up there, and in fact, I've never really lived there, outside of a couple of weeks of college vacation. I don't think of Wallingford as my hometown but I do feel like I am at home when I am at my mom's. She's wrong because I think she confuses the idea of a hometown with truly being at home. It's home because I sleep well there and because I wake up to coffee made for me. It's home because my old toys and books are there, carted lovingly over the years from home to home. But of course, most importantly, my mom's house is Wallingford is home because my mom is there.

My mom and I have routines when I visit, which I think are part of her routine when she's alone, too. We scope out yard sales and consignment shops for bargains; we head to Macy's but skip the rest of the mall. We make coffee and sit outside and look at her garden. We walk around her neighborhood to look for what houses are for sale or we walk the trail at a nearby park. We drive to Wesleyan to check out the changes since I graduated. We visit my grandmother for more coffee. It's routine, possibly bordering on ritual or tradition, and I look forward to each one because my normal routine in Minnesota is hectic and filled with people and kids and work and noise and meetings.

As I get older, I find myself building my own rituals that mirror my mother's. After I found my mom watching Sunday Morning on CBS at the unheard of hour at 8:00 am, I got hooked. I started waking up a little earlier every Sunday and watching it as I read my newspaper and drank coffee. I've tried to carve out more summer time vacation at my own house, planting flowers and tomatoes and enjoying just being home. I scope out the yard sales here, wake up early almost every day to have a little time to myself before the day slips away, and, most obviously, make coffee with milk (not nearly as much as my mom and my sister) every chance I can get.

July 5, 2009

A Day at the Flea Market


My mom wanted to spend the day at a flea market, Elephant's Trunk, about an hour away from her house. I was all for it even though I have a house full of unpacked boxes back home in Minnesota. My mother, husband, sister, brother, and sister-in-law piled into two cars and headed off for New Milford. We got there kind of late, and, in fact, some dealers were already packing up to go, but there were plenty of interesting things to see.

My mom is usually on the look out for American pottery from the 1900s-1960s or jewelry, and my sister likes to look at "old stuff" like jewelry, records, and music memorabilia. My brother and his wife checked out the books, picking out a 1980s era College Algebra textbook and a discounted hardback novel. Matt, my husband, looked at wooden cigar boxes but didn't like the prices on any he saw; plus he's a little more committed to reducing our possessions than I am. I was looking for wall art and smart relics of pop culture, like pins and posters and coasters.

Although the sun was hot that day, we wandered the aisles, marveling at the prices on the toys we used to play with. Every time we asked about the price of something, the dealer would give us a spiel on why it was valuable even if it seemed like junk. Still, my mom and I found some bargains: she bought 2 Hitchcock chairs for $15 a piece and I found a set of eight 1950s Double-Cola posters to frame in my new kitchen ---


June 30, 2009

Woods Hole, Massachusetts

I love the ocean, so visiting Cape Cod is always a welcome change from Minnesota. One great spot to visit is Woods Hole, which is a small village at the tip of the elbow of Cape Cod. It's part of Falmouth, the town where my father lives. When I was younger, I had a summer job out here at the Marine Biological Laboratory. I worked in the Embryology labs: I fed drosophila, broke a lot of lab glassware, fetched mail, and made photocopies.

Now I just go to Woods Hole for a cup of coffee and a nice walk or bike ride. On Sunday, we took a walk through town, starting, of course, with an iced latte from Coffee Obsession, my dad's coffee shop of choice in town. We walked down Water Street to a little park with access to a small beach, where we let the dogs run and swim for a bit.

There are docks here for the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, and my dad likes to tell me that the big boat he traveled on across the Atlantic when he was a teenager was parked at these docks.

We headed past the small aquarium where the seals are never out anymore (growing up, they were always there) and headed out to the dock where the fishing boats come in.



I've come here hundreds of times, and I've never seen a boat unloading fish before. On this day, there was a boat filled with conch and a boat filled with sea bass and scup:



After a little gift shop browsing near the drawbridge, we headed home to hit the beach. I love to find perfect spots like Woods Hole (you know my list, Terlingua, Moab...), so having one that I can come back to again and again is something I truly appreciate.

Our Honda


Thank you, Honda CRV, for all the road trips over the years! Here's to many more years together!

Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Austin, Four Corners, Big Bend, San Antonio, Guadalupe, Florida Everglades, Miami, Key West, Kansas City, Wallingford, Faribault, Twin Cities, Cape Cod, Boston, Amenia, NYC, Syracuse, Lake George, Maine, Black Hills, Mount Rushmore, St. Louis, New Orleans, Santa Fe, Moab, Denver, Nebraska, Kansas, Louisville, Savannah... not too mention just back and forth, around the corner, and down the street over and over again....

June 29, 2009

Dreading Unpacking

This is what we left behind....

Well, we did leave these two behind, too, so we can't avoid the unpacking for too long!


June 28, 2009

24 Hours in Central New York


Matt and I spent just about 24 hours in North Syracuse, New York visiting his mom this weekend. In that short amount of time, we packed in a pretty good tour of the area. We started at Angotti's for dinner, where Matt ordered the same meal he's been ordering for years: eggplant parmigiana. I had something I have been craving for months, pizza from the east coast:



Matt's family has been going to Angotti's for decades now ever since his uncle found a review of the restaurant in the newspaper. The owners and the staff seem to recognize them each time, and more than once we've run into people Matt and his family know. The hallway entrance is covered with restaurant reviews, Syracuse University memorabilia, and photos of famous people, like Tony Bennett, coming in for some Italian food. I usually resist loving things that other people gush about (e.g., the Beatles or Van Morrison), but I can't help it: I'm hooked, too.

After dinner, we headed out to Onondaga Lake, where there are miles of recreation trails. We just walked for a little while and made plans to come back the next day to ride our bikes. I was pleasantly surprised how many people were out and about both that evening and the next morning. People were rollerblading, shuffle boarding, biking, fishing, picnicking, rowing, and walking...



Hopefully, the amount of activity around the lake will help support efforts to clean it up as it remains seriously polluted.

On Saturday, we addressed another one of my food cravings. In Minnesota, I just can't seem to get a decent salami sub. In Massachusetts, I grew up with Greek pizza shops where you could get grinders piled high with provolone and Genoa salami, toasted in the pizza oven, and drizzled with olive oil. In Minnesota, we have Subway and other chains, but I can't seem to find a good grinder anywhere. In Syracuse, Matt and I turn to Wegmans (yes, the supermarket). I know it isn't a mom & pop sub shop, but I can get this:


After we had lunch, we joined some friends of Matt's mother on a boat trip up the Oneida River to Oneida Lake. I hadn't been on a powerboat in a long time, and I always forget how big the lakes in upstate New York are.



A pretty cool pause on the trip was Lock E23. I can't say I've ever been through a lock before. For those of you who might not know, a lock is a device that allows boats to pass through an area of a river or canal where there is a change in water level. After you enter the lock, the large doors close, and the water level is either lowered or raised depending on the direction you are going. The lock we passed through moved about 7 feet, and I was intrigued by the little tiny plants and the tiny, mostly dead, scorpion-looking bugs clinging to the lock walls. I don't one hundred percent understand when and where a lock is necessary, so I'll refer you to wikipedia if you need more info!



So, for someone itching to get to the ocean all the time, Syracuse turned out to be a perfect place for a break. I didn't expect to spend so much time on or near the lakes, but once again, like I said last summer, it's important to realize what perfect spots there are right where you forget to look for them.

June 25, 2009

43 Things

Matt and I have committed to reducing our possessions in three ways: by not buying unnecessary stuff, by asking our family not to buy us unnecessary stuff, and by culling our current possessions. Like most everyone, we (especially me) hold on to too many things that are really trash or could be used better by someone else. We love to collect books, and I have a soft spot for mementos. I'm holding on to closets, drawers, and bins full of clothes that I think I will wear someday. I have thousands of printed photographs, notebooks and papers from high school and college, and every letter or card I've ever received dating back to middle school.

Knowing the move was a possibility, this past spring we brought 10 kitchen-sized garbage bags of clothes to the local goodwill. Now that the move has passed, as we unpack our boxes, we decided to identify 100 things that we could give away, throw away, or sell at a yard sale. Before we left for vacation, we had only made it to 43...

1 of a pair of red lamps, with a broken glass base
1 mildewed yellow bathroom rug
1 box for our first GPS (kept box for current GPS)
1 Yankees brick door stop (decorative mouse long gone to the dogs)
1 disassembled fan with missing bolts (taken apart to be cleaned, but never reassembled)
4 disposable plastic potting pots (have too many ceramic ones)
1 chair with no cushions (cushions necessary) (formerly a dog bed for my dogs)
1 dust-vac with a chewed through cord (blame the dogs)
2 old brooms
1 yard stick
1 glass chip and dip serving tray that belonged to my grandmother and was missing a piece
1 tea set from China
1 purple vase from the florist
1 glass vase from the florist (they should give you a couple bucks back for returning them)
1 cast iron fajita skillet (regift from someone else who didn't use it)
2 candle plates (never used; didn't understand the trend)
1 orange soap or sponge holder
1 chipped oversized black coffee mug
4 Asian-inspired black coffee mugs from JC Penney
2 Asian-inspired sushi platters
1 Minnesota Gophers hoodie
1 lovingly painted but terribly constructed black bench that cost 35 dollars in 2004
1 milk bottle
1 dog themed book mark
1 orange plastic canister (the rest of the set will go whenever we find the box they are in)
1 beloved, well-worn, lime green Shattuck-St. Mary's polo (school colors: maroon and black)
1 paint-splattered team t-shirt from the 1st annual 2009 24 hour walk/run-athon
1 disappointing Diane Ackerman book
3 books, procured from a friend's pile of give away books, never read
1 red polo, too small for a woman with a 36C bra size, purchased from a store designed for teens
1 camisole
1 worn-out green bathing suit (I own 4 others)

43 down, 57 more to go....

June 24, 2009

Painting


Much better. But I feel like I can still see the orange right through this paint. This picture makes the blue look strange - it's a camera phone after all. Well, it's a start!

Next project (upon our return from vacation), repainting the pink rooms! I'm going to do this myself since it seems about time that I learned to paint a room.

June 20, 2009

Reality Sets In


Welcome Home, Courtney! (Boarding School Edition)

The bathrooms are so orange that when you turn the lights on, you risk being blinded. Strangers from hockey camp plunk their lawn chairs down in front of your front door. The toilet in the "master" bedroom doesn't work, and there are ants. The previous tenants removed three windows to put in air conditioners and took out all the screens. You can't use two utensil drawers because the stove and the fridge partially, just enough, block them. The kitchen faucet shoots water out when you use the cold water. There is a corner or three that smell like cat pee, and your dog has already christened a spot in retaliation. There are 4 pink rooms, one of which has a pink ceiling too, and there are rooms for 30 teenage boys next door!

But, the previous tenant planted beautiful flowers, and there are several big, old trees surrounding the building. You can stop using your car and walk to work every day, even on the coldest Minnesota winter day. You found the three windows and all the screens in the basement, and the first painting crew is coming on Monday. The stove and fridge are almost new, and you love making cookies for multitudes of kids. You have an office all to yourself and a whole other room for your sewing machine and quilting stuff. There's a lovely little patio out back, with a view of trees instead of buildings. And, perhaps best of all, for the first time ever since you left your parents' houses to go to Wesleyan, you'll have your own washer and dryer and they won't require quarters!

June 19, 2009

Moving

If ever there were something I didn't want to do often, it's move. My husband and I have almost completed a move .5 miles away from our apartment at the boarding school where we work into a bigger school apartment.

A bigger apartment in a dorm full of 30 teenage boys.

But more about that another day; I'm sure dorm life will provide endless fodder for blogging.

Moving sucks.

No matter how hard you try to start "early," the last day is always filled with rushed packing that consists of throwing everything left in a room in a box and labeling it "misc" (the full word is way too impossible for someone in the final hours of packing to spell correctly).

No matter how much you've worked on learning how to fight nicely with your spouse, the bitchy side of you can't seem to stay put. My poor husband has been moving boxes and furniture for days in the heat in hopes of reducing the cost of the movers, and I've felt the need to tell him to change his sweaty shirt many times. Now that's Saturday and I have a Smirnoff Ice Mango, I don't really see why I felt the need to comment on his shirt so much. But the sweet thing is, he didn't nag back at me. He just kept his sweaty shirt on and kept moving boxes.

Now that we're here, and 98% of our belongings are with us, I'm starting to feel human again.

Next project: throwing out/yard sale boxing 100 things. The list will be posted, of course. I promise I won't ditch any wedding presents, but I may ditch the leftover invitations....

June 16, 2009

Summer Travels

Well, Matt and I have been feeling kind of cranky because we don't have any exotic destinations planned for this summer. We didn't take any trips over the holidays in 2008, but we did take a big trip to Hawaii in March. That should satisfy most normal people, but I always want more adventure. Alas, there will be no super adventure this summer.

Instead, we are spending time with family and friends. I'm pretty frank with everyone: I don't believe visiting family is the same as vacation. But this year, I spent nearly a year away from the east coast, and I've missed it.

First we are DRIVING with TWO DOGS to Massachusetts and Connecticut to see my family. Driving with the pooches will surely provide some interesting tales to tell, and if it doesn't, all the creatures great and small at my mom's house (3 cats and 3 dogs with my sister and me in town) will surely inspire.

Then (after DRIVING back to Minnesota with TWO DOGS), we are flying to Walt Disney World in Orlando to see Matt's mom and family. Matt's cousin planned the trip and asked for all of us to consider joining her and her family. Now, I haven't been to Disney World since I was 12, and while I am definitely intrigued, I am always a little unsure of traveling in large groups. But, my long simmering desire to return to Journey to Imagination, the Land of Tomorrow, the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, and the Mexican restaurant at Epcot (as well as see family, of course) won out! I'll be stepping on that light-up floor piano and making hand shapes in that needle table before you know it. I have some Disney nostalgia, and seeing how things have or have not changed since the 80s will be fascinating, I'm sure. I'm curious if Land of Tomorrow (or Tomorrow Land?) has changed...

And finally, we are heading out to Portland to see some dear friends who have just recently had a baby! Hopefully, some of my other college compatriots will join us. I've never been to Oregon, but I am thrilled to see D.Baby and knock another state off my list.

So, the summer isn't poised to be full of exotic adventures, and we will definitely be staying state side, but as I write this out, I feel a little guilty for whining and a lot more grateful for the time we'll have to get away from school for a little while, be home, and see the people we miss so much.

May 24, 2009

An Impromptu Chocolate Cake


On Saturday, I realized suddenly that I couldn't remember ever baking a cake from scratch. I was sure that it would be quite an undertaking, and I thought about making a list of things I'd like to cook someday, a list like my friend Theresa posted on her blog. Later that night, when Matt was out playing frisbee golf with our friend Nate, I was feeling a little restless, and I did not want to do laundry or sort clutter or read a book. I'd had a productive day that included washing the walls, cleaning the kitchen, my own round of frisbee golf, and a three mile jog, so I didn't want to do any work... but I still wanted a little project.

On a whim, I started surfing the Betty Crocker website, thinking I might find an interesting cake recipe, but I was surprised to find out that most of their recipes called for using Betty Crocker cake mix as a base.... Of course they do.

As I searched a little more, I realized that a basic yellow cake recipe actually is pretty basic. It just calls for a few ingredients that I probably could have predicted on my own: flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, shortening or oil, eggs, milk, and vanilla. In fact, everything I needed was already in my kitchen. I found a similarly simple chocolate frosting recipe (confectionery sugar, cocoa, butter, evaporated milk, and vanilla), so I sent Matt to the store for what I was missing for the frosting, and I was on my way.

Even though the recipe and the ingredients were simple, I was still under the impression that this would be complicated. But it wasn't. I didn't even need my KitchenAid mixer. It was easy, and when I tasted my cake batter, I knew it was right.

When I tasted my frosting, I knew that was right, too - but something else happened. In an instant, I felt myself back in my childhood, and I remembered right there my mom's homemade cakes and frosting. I never went around thinking my mom made cakes from scratch when we were kids, but as soon as I tasted that frosting, I knew she did. Maybe I didn't ever even realize what she was doing.

Such a simple little decision I made yesterday, and two great things happened. I realized (once again) that once you just get yourself started, most tasks aren't as daunting as they feel when they are squatting for weeks on end on your to do lists... an important reminder for a master procrastinator.

And, I remembered something great about my mom. I don't have as crystal clear of a memory of my childhood as I wish, but today one taste of homemade chocolate frosting made me remember and realize again how lucky I am.

April 19, 2009

The Maple Syrup Run

This morning I woke up to a cold, gray, rainy day, which was not exactly what I wanted to see after a long winter in Minnesota and right before I was heading out for my 5K. I put on a pot of coffee and then took my dogs out for a walk to wake up a little bit.

5Ks (not that I have that much experience) are fun in the small town I live in. Matt and I have lived in Faribault for five years now, and many of our friends, students, and colleagues show up to run, volunteer, or cheer each other on. Today's run was at the River Bend Nature Center, and the route passed through a prairie, up several small hills, by the banks of the Straight River, and over a turtle pond (oh, and by the Minnesota Correctional Facility).

I followed Matt's advice and started out slowly, and I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable I felt. There really weren't any mile markers, so I didn't have any idea how far along I was. I kept count of the number of songs I listened to, thinking that would give me an idea of how far from the end I was... and before I knew it, I could see the end. "Shake It" by Metro Station came on (thanks, Timberwolves Dancers), and I started running faster toward the finish line.

And that was it: 36 minutes and 14 seconds*. No seeing God, no stomach cramps like I remember when we ran the mile at Hyman Fine Elementary School back in Attleboro, no major personal journey milestone. Just another step forward as I try and take back this terrible creep of pounds.



* Only 22 minutes and 3 seconds off world record pace (Tirunesh Dibaba, 2008). Of course, that wasn't cross-country.


April 16, 2009

Some Days, Teaching is Really Hard

Every morning, I arrive at school about 15 minutes before the bell. One of my students depends on me to get there in time so she can get her math book and get on the bus to our other campus in time for her first period class. Usually I make it; some days, I advise her to start keeping her books elsewhere!

Today, the moment she came around the corner and caught my eye, just as I was unlocking my office door, she started to sob. Her friend, a former boyfriend of hers and a former student at our school, has been struggling with a very serious medical condition that has required multiple brain surgeries, and she had been told that he had taken a turn for the worse.

I held her for a little bit while she cried, and then she gathered her books and went to catch the bus, leaving me a little stunned in her wake.... but I too gathered my books and started my day.

April 13, 2009

5K and Pancakes, Maybe

On Sunday, I'll be jogging my first 5K since 2006. Back on that day, I literally ran the race cold, having not run anything longer than a mile since I was about 19.

This time, I'm in good shape, but I still haven't run 3.1 miles on the road in a long time... Um, since September 2006, the aforementioned 5K.

So, I've been running a mile or a mile and a half every couple days. Today, I sort of ran 3 miles on the treadmill (sort of = walked a little bit every now and then).

I don't have much to say, but if I put this in writing now, than I have to follow through and show up on Sunday. Then maybe I'll have some nonsense about a personal journey and a post-5K pancake breakfast to blog about.

April 4, 2009

Broadening the Scope

Well, I'd like to keep this blog a little more often than only when I travel, so I've decided to broaden the scope a little bit. My title "Winding Roads and Close Calls" is still relevant because my goal will always be to focus on experiences in my life that cause me to step out of my comfort zone! Maybe this will simply mean that I will write about all those food pictures I like to upload to my facebook page, but I also hope to write a little bit more about my local adventures in Minnesota, my travels back home to my beloved New England, and my virtual explorations through the books I read, the movies I see, and the plays I attend. Of course, there are those journeys that don't require any travel at all but still move you forward: when a friend pushes you to reconsider your assumptions, when the approaching birthday creates angst and hope, when a day at the office makes you want to scream and laugh, or when a quiet moment at home reminds you to appreciate things just the way they are.

April 3, 2009

Cortadito Update

Last Sunday, my friend Isabel gave me the most wonderful thank you gift. She bought me a can of Cafe Bustelo and a simple moka pot and taught me how to make cortaditos. All along, I had a Mukka Express to make cappuccinos, but I never realized how close I was to making cortaditos at home.

Isabel started by putting a whole lot of white sugar in a mug. I mean, I knew there was sugar in a cortadito, but it turns out that there is a LOT of sugar in one. When the percolator bubbled up the first bit of coffee, she poured just that first tiny bit into the sugar to make a frosting-like mixture. She said that this step creates the foamy surface of the coffee, and that the Cubans say it has to be the first drips of coffee that you use. On the side, she boiled some milk on the stove. When the coffee was done, she poured it into the sugar and mixed it vigorously to create that foamy surface. She poured a touch of milk into the coffee, leaving that perfect little milk stain on top.

And that was it. So simple. When Isabel was done, she handed me a cortadito; I hadn't had one since last summer in Miami, and hers was perfect. When Isa tasted it, however, she said, "Oh! not sweet enough for me."

And so, every morning since then, I have been trying on my own, and yesterday, I did it! My cortadito tasted perfect, but it didn't look perfect. I still haven't mastered getting that little macchia on top, as you can see below. In fact, my version looks kind of pathetic. But I won't give up. I may need to get a little hand steamer for the milk. And, I may need to go back for some extra help from Mrs. Rodriguez...

March 5, 2009

ThighMaster, Waipi'o Valley, The Big Island

One morning while we were in Hilo, we decided to drive north on the Hawaii Belt Road to the Waipi'o Valley. I had read of this very steep walk down into the valley (supposedly 1000 feet descent at a 25% grade in one mile) where willing participants were rewarded with taro ponds, wild horses, waterfalls, and intense muscle burn from the walk back up. Lucky ones supposedly got picked up by Jeep drivers. Of course, I wanted to do this. Matt, on the other hand, was a bit hesitant. We both were afraid of blisters and chafing. Still we loaded up on musubis, coffee, and local bananas, and headed up there to see what it was all about.

On our way, we drove through Pepe'ekeo, which felt like a jungle - bamboo groves, vast banyan trees, and sun rays and ocean glimpses just sneaking through openings in the green. We drove up to Akaka Falls State Park, a drive that strangely reminded me of the drive to Welsch Village here in Minnesota. We followed the boardwalks to the falls, meeting the freaky monkey pods tree along our way. Akaka Falls was majestic. I realize majestic is a trite way to describe a waterfall, but I just don't know what else to say. It was tall and powerful, and as it fell, mist rose back up almost as high as the falls itself.

Soon we arrived at the Waipi'o Valley overlook. We parked our car and enviously watched the Jeeps barrel down towards the valley floor. In a fit of idiotic adult maturity, I had rejected our Jeep at the rental office in favor of a car with a secure trunk. Now, unless I was ready to hoof it, I wasn't going to get down to the floor. We saw a middle-aged couple walk up the steep road. I asked them how the walk back up was even though I could see the sweat on their faces and their arms on their weary hips as they took the last few steps. "Oh, we only walked down to the first turn," they replied.

Pouting more than a little bit, I snapped a few pictures of the valley from the overlook, and we returned to the car. Seeing sullen me, my sweet, indulgent husband drove to get some water and snacks and decided we would make the hike down. We were sure someone would offer us a ride back up.

The walk down was deceptively easy. Along the way we met a very sweaty family coming back up. The father and one of his daughters were scampering up ahead while the mother and another daughter lagged miserably behind.

When we reached the valley floor, we walked to Hi'lawe Falls, which I believe at 1200 feet is the highest freestanding waterfall in Hawaii. We then headed back towards the ocean, past a handful of houses. My trusty guidebook (which I stupidly carried down there) said that now only 50-60 people live down. A tsunami in 1946 destroyed the village, but not the people, who had evacuated. We noticed a "stone wall" made of the remnants of an old car and abandoned boats littering the yards. The valley floor was filled with small taro and lotus ponds; it was very much like the park in Northfield that always floods (sans the taro and lotus). The land was picturesque, but the residents made it very clear that they didn't like trespassers, so we kept to ourselves.

We followed a muddy road to the beach. Two men were surfing, and two older people were attempting to ford Waipi'o Stream, which splits the beach. Another two people were in the middle of a photo shoot, with a bikini-clad girl and all! We watched the crashing waves and the two hikers fall into the stream before we turned back to meet our fate.

I was disappointed about two things: the lack of mythical horses and the mythical kindly jeep drivers. I knew wild horses would have made the journey worthwhile. We saw waterfalls, taro ponds, and wild pineapples, but I couldn't really say that trip was really worth the effort. We kept joking that we could ride one of the mythical horses back up the road, but we hadn't even seen one, which kind of stunk for all the physical exertion we were about to go through. I saw horseshit everywhere, but no horses. On our way down, we also hadn't seen one car stop to help any of the pathetic walkers. We knew no horse nor man would help us. We were on our own.

And then Matt stopped walking and whispered, "Court." Just like the moose in Newfoundland, two horses climbed down from the valley wall. One froze in front of us, and the other chomped nonchalantly on leaves. Not sure what to do, I snapped a few pictures and slowly walked by the still horse. The horse, like a scared Hideki with his backpack on, stayed frozen in place.

And, so, we reached the base of the Waipi'o Valley Road, satisfied and ready. We climbed in 100 step chunks to pace ourselves and keep count. Half-way up, as we sat on a rock to catch our breath and swig our water, a Waipi'o local man stopped his pick-up to let his hitchhiker pause to take in the view. He told us that the road was the steepest paved county road in the United States. His passenger, most likely stoned, upon hearing I was from Minnesota, lunged forward to give me a big hug. He had reason to be happy; he had found the mythical ride. Too bad for him that it was in wrong direction.

About 1880 steps later, drenched in sweat, we made it back to the overlook. And then we ate a bag of chips.