Dandelion

When I had a garden, I understood wanting to weed any Dandelion from it, but I've never understood why so few people appreciate the sight of a field or yard filled with these yellow pom-poms of flowers. (And they're free!) Unlike my dad, I will not spend any spring hours waging war on these blooms. And while they don't last long once picked, they briefly brighten a window sill like nothing else. 

First 5K Race Completed

I ran my first 5K yesterday. Only 3.1 miles, it was still the hardest physical thing I've ever done, and I'm so very proud of myself. I felt like an athlete yesterday for the first time. My only real goal going into the race was to run more of it than I walked, and I definitely did that: I ran more yesterday than I ever had before, and I ran longer before taking walking breaks than I usually do, as well. My hope for the race, based just on some vague sense of what was considered good time/pace-wise, was to finish in 40 minutes or under, and I just barely accomplished it: I finished in 39 minutes and 59 seconds.  :)  I hadn't realized that I'd actually achieved that when I crossed the finish-line, though, because the clock at the finish-line read 42 minutes or something like that when I ran across it, so I was a bit disappointed until last night when I looked up the results online and read my official chip-time. I had completely forgotten that the clock-time would be different from the chip-time since I'd had to follow the crowd awhile before even getting to the starting line after the gun (bell? whistle? starting sound, in any case) went off. So, as it turns out, I met my goal, after all! As soon as I saw that, I felt better and more encouraged about my performance, and soon after, I decided to run my next 5K in August. I've already put in a request to have that day off from work for it.

The race course had more hills than I'd expected--we were going uphill almost immediately after we crossed the starting line, it seemed--and I'd never before run on hills at all, so that made it extra challenging, but I'm sure I picked up speed going downhill each time, and I still felt pretty good overall. I got side stitches twice but massaged them out while I walked, and everything else felt fine. I gratefully grabbed two cups of water (and got a pleasant "You're welcome, Ma'am!" in response to my winded "Thank you!" at one stop) but didn't need more than that. I felt full enough on what I'd eaten (1 and 1/2 bananas, peanut butter on a slice of multi-grain bread, some soy milk, and my usual multi-vitamin), I felt rested, I felt strong. My feet/shoes felt good. I actually didn't even think about my shoes. The distance was perfect for me in terms of what I can handle running-wise at this point. When I saw the mile-marker for 2 miles or 2.1 miles or .2 miles or whatever it was, I just thought, "Yeah, the home stretch. I can totally do this for another mile. I'll be fine." Whenever I saw another slope coming, I'd mumble I-don't-even-remember-what under my breath--some curse-whine combination, and it was the same every time, but I don't remember now what I kept saying. (I'll probably be saying it before every hill in August, as well.) But it was do-able and felt really good. Perfect weather too: low 50s and not too windy, no rain, not humid, the sun wasn't blinding--just a really great day for a run.
 

The actual race started with a laugh for me, as when the gun sounded, we all tried to take off running but got only a few steps before the size of the crowd around us forced us all to stop and wait for it to thin out some. After those enthusiastic first few steps came to an abrupt halt, though, a young guy in the crowd yelled, "Okay! Great job, everybody!" and we all laughed. It was a funny way to start the race and the experience.
 

Another runner, who maybe didn't mean to come off the way she did, said something I found hurtful at the beginning of the race, though. In the first ten minutes or so before we could all spread out, a bunch of us had already had to stop to walk--I had never run up any kind of slope before, so almost right off the bat, I was winded and one of the walkers again--and this woman said in a rather nasty tone, "Why are all these people walking? Hello?! This is supposed to be a run!" She said it loudly enough for most everyone around her to hear, so I suppose she intended for us to hear her--and then do what? collapse under a tree off to the side of the street in shame so as to let her race by? It was rude and hurtful, as it was a 5K walk/run, for one thing, and because there were a number of us who were doing the best we could--and the best we ever had!--by running even as much (or as little, as I guess she saw it) as we were. In retrospect, I wish I'd said something to her. To hear her comment right at the start like that was discouraging and made me feel more self-conscious about how well I was (or was not) going to do. This was a 5K for charity, anyway, and a bunch of little kids and some parents running/walking with strollers were out there too, so it's not as though with our walking some of it we got in this woman's way and ruined her shot at Olympic glory or something. Ah well. It was the only downer moment of the day.

Near the end, around the 2.8 mile-marker, spectators along the sides of the street started calling out, "You're almost there! The finish-line is right around the corner!" and I thought, "Easy for you to say!" and I had to stop to walk again, but then I saw a man with a camera kneeling ahead of me, and I started running again, because no WAY was I going to have done all THIS only to have my picture taken while WALKING! It's funny what motivates us. So, even though I'd just stopped running to take a walk-break, I started running again, and I ran the rest of it right through the finish-line.

I was almost crying as I finished.  It was one of the greatest moments of my life. Two years ago when I weighed 55 more pounds than I do today, this run would have been impossible. I probably couldn't have even walked it with any ease. So, I was just so proud of myself. It was a great, great moment.

After I met up with Mike, we went out to breakfast and walked home together in the sunshine. It was just an all-around beautiful day--one that you want to remember forever.

A great first race experience.  Onward and upward! 

Reading Buddy

I have continued to keep my New Year's resolution of having quiet time for myself before I go to sleep, so the bedtime reading has been one of the sweet spots in my days lately. And Stuffed has been more thrilled than anyone about that.  He not only naps on top of me while I read, he stretches his paws out onto my chest and neck too. If you have never felt the furry softness of a cat's paw leisurely patting your throat, you're missing out. Stuffed is so cuddly and just so dear in these moments--a favorite stuffed animal come-to-life.

While there are other joyful things I could report, this is today's: That at the end of these long and crazy days, thank goodness this cat Mike calls "The Skunk" is there to use me as his bed, giving me the evil eye when I turn the page too loudly and purring contentedly when I scratch behind his ears between chapters. 

And a New Year Begins

Elbs

My grandfather left Italy for America as a child. When he arrived and started school here, he spoke no English. Papa would tell us all about the day the teacher asked him to read aloud in class, and when he came across the abbreviation for the word "pounds," "lbs.," he pronounced it "elbs," and his classmates all started laughing and making fun of him. The other kids nicknamed him "Elbs" and teased him about that the rest of his time in school. Papa had to drop out of school in the eighth grade to go work in the coal mines, but the short time he'd had to put up with the kids' teasing led him to remind me and my brothers, a lifetime later, "You're no better than anybody else. And you're no worse either. You just remember who you are."

I never thought to ask Papa if there had been any kids in school who were truly nice to him and his younger brother when they'd first arrived here, but if I could talk with him about this story today, that's one of the things I'd want to know. And were any of the old-timers we would run into--and whom Papa would stop and talk with--when we "went into town" to buy groceries those summer days I stayed at Papa and Grandma's house people who had once been kids in Papa's class? Were any of his former classmates still alive and residing in the same town at that time? Did he run into them all the time? Was he ever called "Elbs" as an adult? Did some of those kids change as the the times and the neighborhood changed, eventually becoming nicer to my immigrant grandfather and his Italian-speaking family? And had the teacher laughed too? How did his teacher treat Papa and the other immigrant students? Papa would likely shake his head at these questions and say something along the lines of "No matter" or "That's not the point" in response to them. But I am not missing the point--I just can't help but be curious. He wasn't one to hold grudges, but he was one to remember a kindness. I wish I'd delved into his story more, is all.

I am reminded of the "Elbs" story every time I read or write the abbreviation for "pounds," which is pretty often the past couple years as I work toward getting into my goal weight range. To have Papa's "You're no better than anybody else. And you're no worse either. You just remember who you are" come to mind so often is one of his greatest gifts to me. 

Keep your faith in all beautiful things; in the sun when it is hidden, in the Spring when it is gone. ~ Roy R. Gilson

Today was one of those days, and there have been a few of "those days" this week. I have tomorrow off and began my time away from the working world this afternoon by climbing into the tub with a hot chocolate--extra dashes of vanilla and cinnamon, thank you very much--and a book of Jane Austen's major novels. 

I have been reading Sense and Sensibility nightly before bed the past few weeks and am now about seventy pages from the end. I've read Jane Austen before but couldn't really get into her writing at the time and don't even remember which of her major novels it was that I read. So now, probably at least ten years later, I'm reading Miss Jane again. One of my former English professors used to say that you haven't really read a book until you've read it twice, and I agree.  I'm in the habit of starting back at page one after finishing my first read of something, Dr. D would be happy to hear. 

In any case, it was hot chocolate and Jane for me this afternoon, and on an otherwise gloomy thirty-degree day, the sun came out while I was in the tub and filled the bathroom with a beautiful buttery light for awhile. While my mood has not improved a grand amount , I do feel more rested and much more peaceful, so thank goodness, as always, for long hot baths and good books. And now, back to Elinore and her awkward conversation with Lucy and Edward. 

Cat and Mouse in December

Stuffed in his new favorite spot ♥

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. ~ Thornton Wilder

It seems to me that every Thanksgiving is sweeter than the one before, and so, every Thanksgiving ends up becoming My Favorite Thanksgiving Ever. Maybe as we grow older, we become more aware of all that we have to be thankful for and that awareness makes the holiday that much more poignant. As my mom and I added our dishes to my older brother and sister-in-law's table on Thursday, Mom pointed out the floral-patterned plates before us. "Mom and Dad's good china," she smiled. But it was the first time since my grandparents had died that I'd seen it, and the sight of the cream-colored dinner plates with their delicate pink and blue flowered rims made me choke up. A wobbly-sounding "Ah!" was all I could manage in response to my mom, but I know she understood. And in the midst of missing my grandparents so much, I couldn't help but be grateful for having experienced a love from Papa and Grandma so strong and pure and good that even seven years after their deaths, just the sight of their dinner plates is enough to make me cry. If you've loved someone so much, and been blessed enough to miss someone so much, that just the sight of his or her belongings makes your heart ache, then you understand, as my mom did. And I am happy for you. It is Thanksgiving every day when you know that ache and "Ah!" 

Thanksgiving 2008 ~ Bread Dough Cornucopia ♥

My favorite thing in a long time that I've cooked or baked, this cornucopia is made of bread dough. :) I wrapped ready-to-bake (a.k.a "whack-the-tube-against-a-counter") dough around a cornucopia I'd shaped out of foil, braided the edges, baked it, then removed the foil. 'Cute for a vegetable tray but would make sweet individual/mini cornucopia rolls too. I'd wanted to try this idea for ages--I'd saved a magazine clipping of the project in my Thanksgiving scrapbook/idea book years ago--and it turned out just as I'd hoped. ♥

Friendship is one of the sweetest joys of life. Many might have failed beneath the bitterness of their trial had they not found a friend. ~ C.H. Spurgeon

♥