How I spent my Week-end

First leg of the Triple Crown

I have never run a race in the middle of a thunder storm. It was pretty crazy and thrilling. I figured in the midst of 5,000 people, that lightening strike was not going to hit me.

Bridget and I got there early because I had yet to pick up my packet and running chip. It was like a ghost town, with very few people milling about. I warmed up walking around the concourse of the baseball field keeping an eye on the light show going on above the Ohio River to the North.

As we lined up to begin the race, the heaven opened up and everyone was drenched. We chanted, "START THE RACE!!! START THE RACE". And they started the race!
 
It poured at times, it drizzled at times. I overheard a runner imitating Forrest Gump, "Sometimes it was stinging rain!!!" as the water hit us straight in the face coming in hard from the North!

Despite the lightening and the OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHINNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG and AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG when the flashes and cracks were particularly close, it was wonderful and exhilarating.

I ran the whole way and had a terrible race time. Humiliating race time. Demoralizing race time.

Yet, I loved every minute of it.

On to the 10k (six miles) in two weeks. This time, I am going to practice more.

THESE ARE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS

ONE TIME AT KINDERGARTEN........

I mentioned my storage space in a previous entry which propelled me to go on a visit. The idea was to take some items and leave them there.

What I ended up doing was to drag a huge box of photographs home with me. As I was beginning the delicious task of digging through them I immediately laid my hands on this gem

Bridget's first day at school. She is on the right. Two buddies from the day care are to the left.

New dress for first day at school.........$25

New tennis shoes................................$15

Picture from poloroid camera (circa 1985).............Priceless.

Monday Photo Assignment

Your Bookshelf

Could not resist this challenge. I grabbed the camera and snapped my small (one and only) stash of books in the house. The remainer of my book collection (obsession?) rests in the storage area I have been forced to rent!!!

You can see my...Italian addiction, Irish addiction, travel addiction...those who I love on top, and my old Nikon F camera in the left bottom corner.

 

GIFTS OF INSPIRATION

Me with the "Irish Twins"....from my Mom's collection

My Mom began going through her collection of photographs. Photographs that span many decades and include many generations. She divided them into six piles for each of us.

I have mixed feelings about this turn of events. The pleasure of covertly spending time alone in the guest bedroom, among the many boxes of treasures holding the jewels of our family's history has been weakened. The "stash" has been wildly diminished.

I am suspect that she is going through the seemingly millions of snap shots. My Mom is a first class pack rat. Not once in our monthly family gathering has she failed to produce an article from the 1960's highlighting some significant event relating to our family, or a picture drawn in first grade by one of us that she just happened to run across. Or a contract that she has unearthed that one of us signed in our irresponsible youth promising aherence to the family rules.

I groan inwardly when I am the focus of her reminiscing. But how would I feel if I weren't!!! My sister Omega silently stews. Sometimes not so silently. It is tough to be the youngest of six. She feels that Mom and Dad were worn out by the time she hit her wild teenage years.

What she had were five older brothers and sisters!! To learn from. To emulate (oh God!!) and tag along with. Some of the stories the two youngest girls can tell!! My brother taking them to a R rated movie at a young tender age (Saturday Night Fever). The wild rides in the car with teenagers being delivered to ballet or piano lessons! Who could have had a more colorful childhood.

Alas, not enough pictures.

I ache over the dividing up of her memories. I feel tremendous denial and sorrow when my mother asks me what I would like from the house when they pass.

"I want you to live forever....I want nothing."

What I really want is to go through all the remaining pictures, letters, postcards, newpaper articles, souvenirs, diaries (my mother is a note book junkie having several laying around in various rooms), her stamp collections, her precious memories from the years that she would not, could not bear to part with.

And I want them to live forever.

JUST A HIPPIE GYPSY

"There was a star danced, and under that was I born."
                                                                          William Shakespeare

Happy Birthday to Me (one day early)

I am the first child of six. My parents laugh about my Grandfather saying, "Have the girls first, make all the mistakes". There was barely time to make mistakes as two of my three brothers were born within two years two months of my beginning.

I barely had enough time to be the only child. Forever I shall be the eldest as this fact lies in constant remarks from my mother, "You are the oldest.....(fill in the blank)..."

I was born in a town in New York. My parents moved to a small village called Jefferson Valley where I have my first memories. Memories of cold long winters with lots of snow. Hunters hanging a deer above my sand box. My "can do no wrong" brother knocking over a yard jockey and I getting the blame, falling down stairs, the sunlight spilling through the window into my bassinet.

If I try hard, I am certain I can squeeze out several more, but these memories are burned into my memory as real events. There are dozens of other memories, mainly stories that have been repeated so often that they are almost memories but I can't be certain. Each once deserving of its own entry complete with embellishments from the years following.

When I was four or five we moved to Kentucky due to my father's employment with IBM. I am certain this is the beginning of my love affair with traveling to places unknown just for the thrill of traveling.

My mother bordered the train with my two younger brothers for the trip.

I was given the honor of traveling with my father in the car!! I was wearing a hat. It blew out the window.

That is all I remember about the trip.

Perhaps it is family legend about the hat and not really a memory. I wonder if I had my head sticking out the window. Or if I innocently rolled the window down and the naughty hat caught flight and began a journey of its own.

I wonder if I innocently (or not) allowed the hat to fly out and escape.

That was  the beginning of my love affair with getting from here to there. The anticipation of packing, of arriving at the airport, or leaving the outskirts of town.

It all began way back when, when I was born a second time, as a Southerner.

THE RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT

Rail Road Bridge over the Kentucky River and Palisades knows as HIGHBRIDGE   (Oct 2003)

I have become so neglectful of this journal that I am feeling almost shame Yet, when I sit at the keyboard my mind is just a barren waste. I have little inspiration and only myself to blame.

I read the most interesting book the past several days called THE SAME RIVER TWICE by Chris Offutt, a Kentucky writer. I found the book in the Hyde Brothers Book store one afternoon last week! I am astonded that I have not read anything by this wonderful Kentucky author before now. 

I was pleasantly surprised to find some subtle encouragement tucked between the pages. He carried around a journal throughout all his travels and adventures. When ever something occurred he was immediately thinking of how he was going to write about it in his journal. If the day was not offering up any situations that caught his fancy, he began to talk to people and lure them into providing him with material.

When I read these words it immediately brought to mind how I felt about blogging when I first started! Everyday I would be writing entries in my head about the things going on around me.

What has happened? Have I put on some type of blinders that hide the juicy stuff that surrounds me?

This week end we headed to Detroit  for Joe's work. I found the most fantastic market ever in Dearborn called WESTBORN MARKET! It was so fabulous that I made Joe go the next day to experience it himself.

Fresh baked breads, home made soups, a wine cellar, the classiest looking fruit and vegetables, a cheese corner, a drop dead from the delicious smell bakery area, hundreds of olive oils, and most things displayed in such a way that makes you want to purchase everything! Did I mention that many items are available to sample? The store is laid out to resemble an outdoor market. Lovely atmosphere. The air smells of fresh baked bread and oranges.

Instead of going out for dinner, I brought home a bag full of stuff for a picnic in the hotel room. We had Clam Corn chowder, french bread, goda cheese, figs, spinach dip with small pita bread, and zucchini walnut Bread for desert.

A feast!

The drive there and back was beautiful due to the sun making a grand appearance for both days. I finally truly experienced the Maumee River which ambles along side Route 24. Yes, it is a majestic river. I have been under the impression it is the size of a creek, now I know it just narrows around Ft.Wayne.

There are three rivers in the Ft. Wayne area. I have concluded that it is the presence of these three that makes driving and finding your way around this area so difficult and frustrating. They are not large rivers. Large in the sense of The Ohio or the Mississippi. They are small and crisscross all over the city. I christened them "criks" as I remember the palisades of the Kentucky River.

It was very humbling to see the true magnificence of the Maumee

TOIL AND TROUBLE

I am distracted. From blogging. I can not find the time to slip into the local libraries and create a work of joy and passion. At one time I was able to do this  sales job with half my brain tied behind my back. Now I find the standards are higher, the pressure is more intense, the demands are non-ending.

The week flies by.

I am beginning to put the names with the faces. I am beginning to know who does what, who is on the fast track, who is a good worker, who is a complainer, who to avoid, who is bitchy, and who can get things done.

It is very different from the Center in Lexington. A lot of the differences are good and some are disappointing. That's life.

This week one of the Big Wigs is coming to our Center for a visit. He gets to ride with me. Oh joy. A year ago, I would have been in a panic. Now it is just an inconvenience because I have to clean my car, get totally organized for that day, and get my hair done.

One must impress in all ways possible.