One Gigantic Freaking Hole
It's gotten to the point where I'm a little bit scared to come home after work - seems like everyday brings a new surprise as they continue to destroy and then rebuild the kitchen area in our house, and yesterday was no exception. The plumber was planning on digging up a small section of the floor so he could reroute some pipes that weren't fitting into the wall the way they should - which wasn't supposed to be a big deal, except that as he was jack-hammering away at the floor to create a small hole, he noticed that the cement was falling into the hole and disappearing. So he stopped and took a closer look, and lo and behold, what to his wondering eyes should appear, but a gigantic freaking hole underneath our house. So when I got home and asked how things were going, I was invited to poke my head into the hole in the floor, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a gigantic freaking hole under our house. And I do mean gigantic. This hole is, no exaggeration, large enough for me to fit in, and Katie to fit in, and Connor and Carrie to fit in - all at the same time, and there would probably be some room left over. And that's just the part we can see - we won't know for sure how large it is until we open up the floor in order to take a better look. So I guess we'll need to fill in the hole before it swallows up the entire house (although that would probably make the local news and could earn me my ten minutes of fame) which will involve tearing out a sizable portion of floor, filling in the hole with dirt and concrete, and rebuilding the torn out floor. Connor, on the other hand, thinks we should keep it the way it is - I guess he's a big fan of caves in general, and having his own personal cave might be some kind of weird status symbol in his mind. Plus, for some reason, he thinks Hitler is buried under our house now, and that we'll be famous for that (I guess we probably would be famous if Hitler was actually buried down there, but I have my doubts). Meanwhile, word has apparently gotten out in the construction-crew world, because we've had a whole bunch of guys who have stopped by to take a look at the gigantic freaking hole under our house, and every single one of them has scratched his head and said, "I've never seen anything like that before." But other than having a gigantic freaking hole under our house and a missing kitchen, everything is going swimmingly. And all of this started with getting a new dishwasher.
On the other hand…
In the spirit of the holiday season we're now in the midst of, I'm thankful for many things in my life, including the fact that I even have a home to give me so many headaches - and a job - and a mostly healthy family. So everytime I start to feel like the Gods are conspiring against us, I remind myself that this might be a hassle, but it could be ever so much more worse than it is.
Ultra Update
I officially started my training for the 50-miler this week, with a Saturday 16-miler followed by a Sunday 18-miler that included a few miles on trails. Saturday was surprisingly easy, but Sunday was a bit of a challenge as my legs were definitely feeling the distance towards the end. And now that I'm looking at my mileage, I think I'm might be hitting the 2010-mile mark even earlier than I was planning - maybe even by the end of this week.
That's all I can think of for now, so we'll cut it a little short this week and end by hoping that your turkeys remain stuffed, that your cream remains whooped, and your potatoes are mashed to perfection.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Moonshots, Endings, Demolition, Drummer Boys, and an Ultra
2010 in 2010
One of the somewhat obsessive-compulsive things I do (at least, it’s obsessive-compulsive according to my lovely bride, Katie – I think doing stuff like this is completely normal) is to keep track of how many miles I cover each month running, cycling, and swimming. I started doing this about 6 years ago, with the idea that I’d like to travel “around the world” by covering 25,000 miles – which I did last year. So I decided my next step would be to travel to the moon. “How far is it to the moon?” many of you (minus any rocket scientists out there) might wonder. Well, to answer your question, I went to the internet and found the following: “Since the moon's orbit is elliptical (oval-shaped), its distance varies from about 221,463 miles at perigee (closest approach to Earth) to 251,968 miles at apogee (farthest point). The average distance from the moon to the Earth is 238,857.” So there you go. I figure I’ll shoot for the average distance, which is just a little less than 240,000 miles, which means, when you take the average distance I’ve been covering in a year and divide it into the average distance from the moon, I’m not going to make it any time soon (like, it will take me another 47 or so years, give or take, which would mean I’d be around 93 when I finally make it to the moon… so maybe I should just keep traveling around the Earth?). Anyway, all of this got me thinking about a goal for this year, and I had the idea that I’d like to run 2,000 miles in a year. I’ve done 1,000 miles several times, and made it 1,500 in 2009, so it seemed like it might be possible if I was able to stay healthy for the entire year. So far, that’s worked out, and I surpassed the 1,800 mile mark at the end of October and just went by the 1,900 mark last week, so barring any unforeseen and undesired disasters, I’m thinking I’m going to make it in the next couple of weeks. And then I got to thinking that it would be pretty cool to make it to 2010 (since the year is 2010 – get it – 2010 in 2010?) so that’s what I’m shooting for now, and I’d really love it if I was able to time it so I hit that mile mark during the Tucson marathon. I’m afraid I’m probably going to pass it sooner than that, but we’ll have to wait and see.
The rest of the story
If you read last week’s posting, you might remember a section about Connor’s socials studies teacher. This week, she quit.
Demo Day
Our kitchen is now officially gone. They came, they demolished, and they hauled it all away, leaving us with a very large and very empty space. To add to the fun, we found out that the insulation between our ceiling and roof is “R-5” which, for those of you in the know when it comes to all things dealing with insulation, is really, really thin and really, really inefficient, and helps explain why our heating/cooling costs are – wait for it – through the roof. So now we’re tearing out the entire ceiling in the kitchen and living room area so they can add some thicker, heftier, manlier insulation – plus we’ll add some light fixtures which are badly needed in the living room, so that should be nice. Once again, remember, this all started with a new dishwasher.
Did I Miss Thanksgiving?
Is it just me, or does it seem like the holiday season (I would say, “Christmas,” but in the interest of being politically correct, I’ll stick with the more generic term for politically correct reasons) arrives earlier every year. Back when I was a kid, we didn’t start the holiday season until the week before the actual holiday day, but nowadays, the holiday season seems to start as soon as they’re able to mark down the Halloween candy that didn’t get purchased. So I walked into the supermarket last weekend, and what to my wondering ears should appear, but holiday music being piped in on their system, and I have to say, it just felt wrong. I considered taking some kind of stand or making some kind of protest (not sure exactly what this might have looked like, but I imagine it might have involved storming the office where the music/P.A. system controls are kept, announcing that holiday music was not allowed in public places until at least the beginning of December and cranking up some classic Led Zeppelin to get us back in the November groove). But instead, I did nothing. Just continued pushing my cart up and down the aisles, trying to block out the sound of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” which was completely unsuccessful, because that stupid song was stuck in my head for the rest of the day, and now that I’ve typed the title, that stupid song is stuck in my head again, and now it’s probably stuck in your head as well. Sorry about that.
When a Marathon Just Isn’t Enough
Apparently, there’s something wrong with me (some people might say that’s a great example of an understatement). First I ran a couple of half-marathons. Then I ran a couple of marathons. Then I upped the ante by running a marathon in Estes Park, at an elevation of around 7,500 feet. Then I ran Mt. Lemmon, which they billed as the “World’s toughest road marathon” because it climbed around 6,000 feet. Well, apparently that wasn’t enough, because I just signed up for the “Old Pueblo Fifty Mile Endurance Run” after being shamed into it by someone who shall remain nameless to protect their shamefulness (actually, this nameless person didn’t shame me at all – they offered free lodging for Katie and me during the event weekend, which just goes to show how far I’m willing to go – apparently 50 miles - for free lodging, or a t-shirt, or a medal, or, in this case, a belt buckle, which is what you get if/when you finish an “ultra”). Needless to say, my weekend mornings are pretty much booked for the next few months.
That’s all for this edition, so until next time, may your moons remain full and unfettered, may your insulation remain thick and insulatilicious, and may your supermarket remain a Santa-free zone (at least until December).
One of the somewhat obsessive-compulsive things I do (at least, it’s obsessive-compulsive according to my lovely bride, Katie – I think doing stuff like this is completely normal) is to keep track of how many miles I cover each month running, cycling, and swimming. I started doing this about 6 years ago, with the idea that I’d like to travel “around the world” by covering 25,000 miles – which I did last year. So I decided my next step would be to travel to the moon. “How far is it to the moon?” many of you (minus any rocket scientists out there) might wonder. Well, to answer your question, I went to the internet and found the following: “Since the moon's orbit is elliptical (oval-shaped), its distance varies from about 221,463 miles at perigee (closest approach to Earth) to 251,968 miles at apogee (farthest point). The average distance from the moon to the Earth is 238,857.” So there you go. I figure I’ll shoot for the average distance, which is just a little less than 240,000 miles, which means, when you take the average distance I’ve been covering in a year and divide it into the average distance from the moon, I’m not going to make it any time soon (like, it will take me another 47 or so years, give or take, which would mean I’d be around 93 when I finally make it to the moon… so maybe I should just keep traveling around the Earth?). Anyway, all of this got me thinking about a goal for this year, and I had the idea that I’d like to run 2,000 miles in a year. I’ve done 1,000 miles several times, and made it 1,500 in 2009, so it seemed like it might be possible if I was able to stay healthy for the entire year. So far, that’s worked out, and I surpassed the 1,800 mile mark at the end of October and just went by the 1,900 mark last week, so barring any unforeseen and undesired disasters, I’m thinking I’m going to make it in the next couple of weeks. And then I got to thinking that it would be pretty cool to make it to 2010 (since the year is 2010 – get it – 2010 in 2010?) so that’s what I’m shooting for now, and I’d really love it if I was able to time it so I hit that mile mark during the Tucson marathon. I’m afraid I’m probably going to pass it sooner than that, but we’ll have to wait and see.
The rest of the story
If you read last week’s posting, you might remember a section about Connor’s socials studies teacher. This week, she quit.
Demo Day
Our kitchen is now officially gone. They came, they demolished, and they hauled it all away, leaving us with a very large and very empty space. To add to the fun, we found out that the insulation between our ceiling and roof is “R-5” which, for those of you in the know when it comes to all things dealing with insulation, is really, really thin and really, really inefficient, and helps explain why our heating/cooling costs are – wait for it – through the roof. So now we’re tearing out the entire ceiling in the kitchen and living room area so they can add some thicker, heftier, manlier insulation – plus we’ll add some light fixtures which are badly needed in the living room, so that should be nice. Once again, remember, this all started with a new dishwasher.
Did I Miss Thanksgiving?
Is it just me, or does it seem like the holiday season (I would say, “Christmas,” but in the interest of being politically correct, I’ll stick with the more generic term for politically correct reasons) arrives earlier every year. Back when I was a kid, we didn’t start the holiday season until the week before the actual holiday day, but nowadays, the holiday season seems to start as soon as they’re able to mark down the Halloween candy that didn’t get purchased. So I walked into the supermarket last weekend, and what to my wondering ears should appear, but holiday music being piped in on their system, and I have to say, it just felt wrong. I considered taking some kind of stand or making some kind of protest (not sure exactly what this might have looked like, but I imagine it might have involved storming the office where the music/P.A. system controls are kept, announcing that holiday music was not allowed in public places until at least the beginning of December and cranking up some classic Led Zeppelin to get us back in the November groove). But instead, I did nothing. Just continued pushing my cart up and down the aisles, trying to block out the sound of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” which was completely unsuccessful, because that stupid song was stuck in my head for the rest of the day, and now that I’ve typed the title, that stupid song is stuck in my head again, and now it’s probably stuck in your head as well. Sorry about that.
When a Marathon Just Isn’t Enough
Apparently, there’s something wrong with me (some people might say that’s a great example of an understatement). First I ran a couple of half-marathons. Then I ran a couple of marathons. Then I upped the ante by running a marathon in Estes Park, at an elevation of around 7,500 feet. Then I ran Mt. Lemmon, which they billed as the “World’s toughest road marathon” because it climbed around 6,000 feet. Well, apparently that wasn’t enough, because I just signed up for the “Old Pueblo Fifty Mile Endurance Run” after being shamed into it by someone who shall remain nameless to protect their shamefulness (actually, this nameless person didn’t shame me at all – they offered free lodging for Katie and me during the event weekend, which just goes to show how far I’m willing to go – apparently 50 miles - for free lodging, or a t-shirt, or a medal, or, in this case, a belt buckle, which is what you get if/when you finish an “ultra”). Needless to say, my weekend mornings are pretty much booked for the next few months.
That’s all for this edition, so until next time, may your moons remain full and unfettered, may your insulation remain thick and insulatilicious, and may your supermarket remain a Santa-free zone (at least until December).
Friday, November 12, 2010
Social Studies, Chaos, and Too Many Options
Mr. Negativity Meets His Soul-Mate
Social studies this year has been an ongoing saga for our young son, Connor, who is in 7th grade at a school that shall remain nameless in order to protect the innocent. First off, his original social studies teacher was reassigned to a different role right at the beginning of the year, so they had to go searching for a part-time person to replace him, which – as you may or may not be aware – isn’t the easiest thing to do. So they had a series of subs that led to a long-term sub for the first couple of months of school. This, as you might imagine, isn’t ideal because there’s not a whole lot of continuity when the subs are switching off, plus the class tends to take advantage of situations like this, and the whole thing was kind of chaotic. Then, finally, they managed to find someone to take the job. Unfortunately, this has turned out to be even more of an issue than what existed before. Now if you know Connor, or have heard us tell tales about him, you might be aware that he isn’t exactly the world’s most positive person. So when he came home and started talking about how negative his new social studies teacher was, I have to admit that a part of me was thrilled by this. My son had actually met someone that he considered to be negative – how great is that? For the past few weeks, he has continued to come home with all kinds of stories about the crazy things his social studies teacher has said or done. Here are just a few examples:
•She’s mad that she doesn’t have her own classroom, so she had the kids write letters to the principal complaining about it and requesting that she be given another teacher’s extra room (yes, there is a teacher there who has two rooms).
•She’s mad at the kids and how they behave during class, so she’s making tapes of them that she’s planning on sharing with parents (not sure when/how that’s going to happen, but I’m looking forward to hearing more)
•She’s mad at the entire school and everyone who works there, so she’s writing a book to expose the whole sordid mess, and she’s going to sell copies to parents and make a whole bunch of money (no, I’m not planning on purchasing a copy – though I would love to take a look at it for free).
So it’s all kind of crazy (side note: this is someone who apparently won some kind of award for being a great teacher before she came here) but I have to admit that I’m not all that up-in-arms about the whole fiasco, because even though Connor isn’t learning anything related to the official social studies “curriculum” I actually think he’s learning more in this situation then he’s ever learned before. And he has some mildly amusing stories to tell.
Let the Destruction Begin
As mentioned earlier, we bought a new dishwasher several weeks ago, which led to the discovery that we had a leak under our sink, which led to the discovery that we had some mold growing in the walls and cabinets, which led to us calling the insurance company, which led to us deciding to just go ahead and redo the entire kitchen. So now we’re starting to stick our toes in the pool of renovation. The mold is now gone, but so is half of the kitchen, including the sink, stove, dishwasher, and half the cabinets/counter. Yesterday, we finalized our layout plan, and we’ve now ordered new cabinets and counters, figured out gas lines for a new stove, made a plan for the electricity that will include lots of outlets and new lighting, and made the first of several alarmingly large payments. Next step will be to destroy the rest of the kitchen (as well as the ceiling in the adjoining room so Katie can finally be rid of the dreaded “popcorn”), and then start putting all the lines and wires and pipes where they need to go. And it’s all because of a dishwasher. I’m pretty sure there’s a lesson to be learned in here somewhere – though I’m just not exactly sure what it is – something about new dishwashers, or checking under your sink, or something like that. All I really know for sure is that I really, really miss having a kitchen sink (which is now sitting in the entry hall) – and it’s going to be awhile before we have one again.
More on the Kitchen
Most people would probably agree that having choices is a good thing, but after visiting the kitchen showroom and going through the whole decision-making process with this kitchen project, there’s also a part of me that feels completely overwhelmed by all the choices we had to make about colors, styles, moldings, backsplashes, trims, hardware, drawer pulls, fixtures, voltage, wattage, amperage, 60/40 or 50/50, left or right, single or double, rack or shelf, single or double-barrel trash pullout, how to handle the soffit (up until about a week ago, I didn’t even know what a soffit was let alone that we had not one, but two of them in our kitchen), what kind of lighting, where to put fixtures and switches, dimmers, popcorn or plain, directional or fixed, check or credit card, itemized or complete, 2 cm or 3 cm, melamine or ply, and on and on and on. It’s almost as bad as going to the store and trying to buy some toothpaste (sometimes, I just stand in the toothpaste aisle for several minutes, my mind a complete blank and my heart sinking as I scan all the different types of toothpaste).
That’s all for this edition, so until next time, may your lessons be learned, may your kitchen remain dry, and may your choices remain clear and unfettered.
Social studies this year has been an ongoing saga for our young son, Connor, who is in 7th grade at a school that shall remain nameless in order to protect the innocent. First off, his original social studies teacher was reassigned to a different role right at the beginning of the year, so they had to go searching for a part-time person to replace him, which – as you may or may not be aware – isn’t the easiest thing to do. So they had a series of subs that led to a long-term sub for the first couple of months of school. This, as you might imagine, isn’t ideal because there’s not a whole lot of continuity when the subs are switching off, plus the class tends to take advantage of situations like this, and the whole thing was kind of chaotic. Then, finally, they managed to find someone to take the job. Unfortunately, this has turned out to be even more of an issue than what existed before. Now if you know Connor, or have heard us tell tales about him, you might be aware that he isn’t exactly the world’s most positive person. So when he came home and started talking about how negative his new social studies teacher was, I have to admit that a part of me was thrilled by this. My son had actually met someone that he considered to be negative – how great is that? For the past few weeks, he has continued to come home with all kinds of stories about the crazy things his social studies teacher has said or done. Here are just a few examples:
•She’s mad that she doesn’t have her own classroom, so she had the kids write letters to the principal complaining about it and requesting that she be given another teacher’s extra room (yes, there is a teacher there who has two rooms).
•She’s mad at the kids and how they behave during class, so she’s making tapes of them that she’s planning on sharing with parents (not sure when/how that’s going to happen, but I’m looking forward to hearing more)
•She’s mad at the entire school and everyone who works there, so she’s writing a book to expose the whole sordid mess, and she’s going to sell copies to parents and make a whole bunch of money (no, I’m not planning on purchasing a copy – though I would love to take a look at it for free).
So it’s all kind of crazy (side note: this is someone who apparently won some kind of award for being a great teacher before she came here) but I have to admit that I’m not all that up-in-arms about the whole fiasco, because even though Connor isn’t learning anything related to the official social studies “curriculum” I actually think he’s learning more in this situation then he’s ever learned before. And he has some mildly amusing stories to tell.
Let the Destruction Begin
As mentioned earlier, we bought a new dishwasher several weeks ago, which led to the discovery that we had a leak under our sink, which led to the discovery that we had some mold growing in the walls and cabinets, which led to us calling the insurance company, which led to us deciding to just go ahead and redo the entire kitchen. So now we’re starting to stick our toes in the pool of renovation. The mold is now gone, but so is half of the kitchen, including the sink, stove, dishwasher, and half the cabinets/counter. Yesterday, we finalized our layout plan, and we’ve now ordered new cabinets and counters, figured out gas lines for a new stove, made a plan for the electricity that will include lots of outlets and new lighting, and made the first of several alarmingly large payments. Next step will be to destroy the rest of the kitchen (as well as the ceiling in the adjoining room so Katie can finally be rid of the dreaded “popcorn”), and then start putting all the lines and wires and pipes where they need to go. And it’s all because of a dishwasher. I’m pretty sure there’s a lesson to be learned in here somewhere – though I’m just not exactly sure what it is – something about new dishwashers, or checking under your sink, or something like that. All I really know for sure is that I really, really miss having a kitchen sink (which is now sitting in the entry hall) – and it’s going to be awhile before we have one again.
More on the Kitchen
Most people would probably agree that having choices is a good thing, but after visiting the kitchen showroom and going through the whole decision-making process with this kitchen project, there’s also a part of me that feels completely overwhelmed by all the choices we had to make about colors, styles, moldings, backsplashes, trims, hardware, drawer pulls, fixtures, voltage, wattage, amperage, 60/40 or 50/50, left or right, single or double, rack or shelf, single or double-barrel trash pullout, how to handle the soffit (up until about a week ago, I didn’t even know what a soffit was let alone that we had not one, but two of them in our kitchen), what kind of lighting, where to put fixtures and switches, dimmers, popcorn or plain, directional or fixed, check or credit card, itemized or complete, 2 cm or 3 cm, melamine or ply, and on and on and on. It’s almost as bad as going to the store and trying to buy some toothpaste (sometimes, I just stand in the toothpaste aisle for several minutes, my mind a complete blank and my heart sinking as I scan all the different types of toothpaste).
That’s all for this edition, so until next time, may your lessons be learned, may your kitchen remain dry, and may your choices remain clear and unfettered.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Mutants, Mold, and a Cookie Wrap-up
Teenage Mutant Ninja Pumpkin
Every Halloween for as long as I can remember, we’ve bought one or more pumpkins, cut them open and scooped out the “guts,” carved various designs or faces in them, then put them outside with a candle lighting them up for all to see. I know this whole thing probably sounds kind of weird, and I don’t know exactly why we do this or how the whole thing got started, but we do it without really thinking about it. Over the years, we’ve had several “strange” or “unusual” pumpkins. Not because of their appearance, but because of something we discovered after bringing them home and starting the whole “cutting open, scooping out, carving designs” process. We’ve had the gross and gicky pumpkin that was so positively pungent no one wanted to stick their hand inside (guess who got to take care of that one) and we’ve had the really dry, almost empty pumpkin that was actually pretty easy to deal with because there wasn’t much to deal with. Then there was the year that Katie brought home an indestructible pumpkin. When I took the knife to it, I wasn’t able to pierce the skin. So I pressed harder. Still nothing. So I got a bigger, sharper knife, but I still couldn’t cut into it. I even tried various chisels and saws and other implements (though I never broke out the blowtorch) but that danged pumpkin just wouldn’t be cut into. So that one wound up getting set outside without any kind of work being done on it. This year, though, we had the strangest pumpkin of all. First of all, it was pretty big (Katie let Connor pick out the biggest one he could find), but the strange thing was when I cut it open and started scooping it out, I discovered… attached to the lid I’d just removed… are you ready for this… a pumpkin plant that was growing inside the pumpkin! Needless to say, I was taken aback, and I immediately exclaimed, “This freaky mutant pumpkin has a pumpkin growing inside it.” I mean, that’s like if a person was growing inside another person. Can you imagine such a thing? Anyway, Katie wasn’t particularly impressed (maybe because she’s actually had people growing inside her) but Carrie and Connor both thought it was pretty cool, especially when we found about six other little pumpkin plants growing inside the pumpkin.
Let the Games Begin
Our kitchen is now officially “under construction,” the first step being the eradication of any and all mold lingering in the walls as a result of our leaky pipe under our sink. So they came out and tore out one side of the kitchen, including the sink, the cabinets, the counter, etc. and did whatever it is they do to get rid of the bad stuff, and when I got home, it looked like that scene from E.T., the Extra-Terrestrial when the military guys put up the plastic tent and freak Elliot and E.T. out by acting all paranoid about infectious alien diseases, because the kitchen is completely wrapped up in plastic, and there’s some kind of really loud device whooshing away inside the wrapping (don’t know what it is, but I’m assuming it’s some kind of mold-killer – apparently mold doesn’t like really loud whooshing sounds - neither does Connor - hmm.). So we’ve got dishes scattered hither and yon, a dishwasher and range wrapped up in plastic and stored in our entryway, a bunch of food stacked on the one remaining counter, all of which adds up to a pretty big mess and the realization of how much you miss you’re kitchen sink when it’s taken away from you. There’s no telling how long this whole thing is going to stretch out, but I’m guessing it’s going to be right around 6 weeks before we get things back to normal and have the whole project done. And so it begins.
Cookie Update
So if you read last week’s entry, you might remember the whole Halloween cookie fiasco. Well, it actually got worse. I brought my cookies to school and set them out for the luncheon, and when I swung by about ten minutes later, I saw that someone else had gone to the store and bought – can you see this one coming – several dozen pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies. And these ones had orange and green sugar on them, so they looked like real pumpkins. Needless to say, only a couple of my cookies got eaten, and I’m pretty sure those were eaten out of pity by the kind of people who buy the most pitiful looking Christmas tree on the lot because they feel sorry for it. So I wound up taking the majority of the cookies back home, which was actually okay, because they were welcomed back with open arms by my wife and children.
That’s all for this edition, so until next time, may your pumpkins remain on the vine, may your mold remain mildew-free, and may your cookies remain crispy (unless you like them chewy).
Every Halloween for as long as I can remember, we’ve bought one or more pumpkins, cut them open and scooped out the “guts,” carved various designs or faces in them, then put them outside with a candle lighting them up for all to see. I know this whole thing probably sounds kind of weird, and I don’t know exactly why we do this or how the whole thing got started, but we do it without really thinking about it. Over the years, we’ve had several “strange” or “unusual” pumpkins. Not because of their appearance, but because of something we discovered after bringing them home and starting the whole “cutting open, scooping out, carving designs” process. We’ve had the gross and gicky pumpkin that was so positively pungent no one wanted to stick their hand inside (guess who got to take care of that one) and we’ve had the really dry, almost empty pumpkin that was actually pretty easy to deal with because there wasn’t much to deal with. Then there was the year that Katie brought home an indestructible pumpkin. When I took the knife to it, I wasn’t able to pierce the skin. So I pressed harder. Still nothing. So I got a bigger, sharper knife, but I still couldn’t cut into it. I even tried various chisels and saws and other implements (though I never broke out the blowtorch) but that danged pumpkin just wouldn’t be cut into. So that one wound up getting set outside without any kind of work being done on it. This year, though, we had the strangest pumpkin of all. First of all, it was pretty big (Katie let Connor pick out the biggest one he could find), but the strange thing was when I cut it open and started scooping it out, I discovered… attached to the lid I’d just removed… are you ready for this… a pumpkin plant that was growing inside the pumpkin! Needless to say, I was taken aback, and I immediately exclaimed, “This freaky mutant pumpkin has a pumpkin growing inside it.” I mean, that’s like if a person was growing inside another person. Can you imagine such a thing? Anyway, Katie wasn’t particularly impressed (maybe because she’s actually had people growing inside her) but Carrie and Connor both thought it was pretty cool, especially when we found about six other little pumpkin plants growing inside the pumpkin.
Let the Games Begin
Our kitchen is now officially “under construction,” the first step being the eradication of any and all mold lingering in the walls as a result of our leaky pipe under our sink. So they came out and tore out one side of the kitchen, including the sink, the cabinets, the counter, etc. and did whatever it is they do to get rid of the bad stuff, and when I got home, it looked like that scene from E.T., the Extra-Terrestrial when the military guys put up the plastic tent and freak Elliot and E.T. out by acting all paranoid about infectious alien diseases, because the kitchen is completely wrapped up in plastic, and there’s some kind of really loud device whooshing away inside the wrapping (don’t know what it is, but I’m assuming it’s some kind of mold-killer – apparently mold doesn’t like really loud whooshing sounds - neither does Connor - hmm.). So we’ve got dishes scattered hither and yon, a dishwasher and range wrapped up in plastic and stored in our entryway, a bunch of food stacked on the one remaining counter, all of which adds up to a pretty big mess and the realization of how much you miss you’re kitchen sink when it’s taken away from you. There’s no telling how long this whole thing is going to stretch out, but I’m guessing it’s going to be right around 6 weeks before we get things back to normal and have the whole project done. And so it begins.
Cookie Update
So if you read last week’s entry, you might remember the whole Halloween cookie fiasco. Well, it actually got worse. I brought my cookies to school and set them out for the luncheon, and when I swung by about ten minutes later, I saw that someone else had gone to the store and bought – can you see this one coming – several dozen pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies. And these ones had orange and green sugar on them, so they looked like real pumpkins. Needless to say, only a couple of my cookies got eaten, and I’m pretty sure those were eaten out of pity by the kind of people who buy the most pitiful looking Christmas tree on the lot because they feel sorry for it. So I wound up taking the majority of the cookies back home, which was actually okay, because they were welcomed back with open arms by my wife and children.
That’s all for this edition, so until next time, may your pumpkins remain on the vine, may your mold remain mildew-free, and may your cookies remain crispy (unless you like them chewy).
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Humble Pie, Metallic Elements, and Halloween Cookies
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
So I finished up my swim the other morning, showered off, and then hopped into my car, eager, as usual, to get to work (just can’t wait to start another day of educating 150ish eager young middle schoolers). As I started to pull out of my parking space, this guy stopped his car right behind me. Then he opened his door and got out. I was thinking, “What the heck is this guy doing?” in an irritated, I’m-in-a-hurry-here kind of way, so I beeped my horn at him in my irritation. Next, he knocked on my window, and I’m wondering, what the heck is up with this guy, but when I roll down my window, he hands me the water bottle that I had set on my car and forgotten about. “Thanks,” I mumbled sheepishly, feeling like a complete and total jerk. Here’s some random guy who goes out of his way to help me out, and I beep my horn at him. Definitely not my finest moment.
Half an Ironman is Better than None
Anyone who knows my lovely wife, Katie, probably also knows that she’s been working hard for the past few months training for a half ironman. If you’re not “in the know” this event consists of a 1.2-mile swim, followed by a 56-mile bike ride and a 13.1-mile run, which, as you might imagine, presents quite a challenge. Anyway, she was very excited to complete her event last weekend and become an official “Half-Ironman.” I think it’s pretty cool, too, though I have to say that I’m not all that impressed with the title of “Half-Ironman.” After all, when I completed a sprint triathlon (which was essentially ¼ of what she did) I got to be a “Tinfoilman,” which I think is a pretty cool thing to be (as opposed to a “One-Eighth-Ironman, which just sounds kind of lame). Since Katie has now done this event, I’m tempted to sign up for one myself, but I’d like to be known as something better-sounding than a “Half-Ironman” so I come up with a list of possibilities, which include, in no particular order: Leadman (sounds kind of slow and heavy), Nickelman, Manganeseman, Copperman (kind of cool for AZ), Zincman, Molybdenumman (try to say that fast three times in a row), Silverman (too sleek?), Cadmiumman, Tungstenman, Platinumman (probably too much), Mercuryman (definitely too fast for me), Uraniumman (too radioactive), and Plutoniumman (ditto). I’m not sure which one I like the best, but several sound better than “Half-Ironman” – at least to me.
Kitchen Nightmares
Every once in awhile, we have a “staff lunch” at school where one of the teams is supposed to bring in food for everyone else. Personally, I kind of hate the whole idea, because it’s a hassle when I have to bring in food, and when I don’t bring in food, I don’t really like to eat what’s brought in, partly because we don’t eat until 12:45 or so and I can’t make it that long without food, and partly because you never know what’s going to be brought in, and it’s often kind of a mish-mash of random selections, so who knows what you’re going to get, and though I’m not all that particular about what I eat (really, I swear I’m not) I do ride my bike home from work, and eating a bunch of random food right before a workout just isn’t a good idea – for a variety of reasons that I really don’t need to get into. So I generally abstain. Anyway, this week was our team’s assigned week, so I figured I’d pull a fast one by volunteering to bring in the paper plates, bowls, napkins, etc. since all that involves is making some purchases (and as it turned out, it didn’t involve even that since we have a whole bunch of surplus stuff in the office that’s up for grabs, so all I really had to do was go and get it together (although there was some grumbling about the fact that the paper products were plain white and didn’t really have a proper “holiday/Halloween motif” which some people actually care about – not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s so far away from anything remotely important to me that I have a hard time relating) but then that wound up not getting me off the hook after all, because someone decided we didn’t have enough desserts for everyone, so since I wasn’t really bringing anything in, I was “volunteered” to bring in Halloween cookies, and I didn’t really feel like I could refuse, so I agreed to do so. Which left me in a bit of a quandary, because I don’t really like to make cookies (I leave that to Katie and Connor – both of whom enjoy cookie-baking immensely) plus, I really didn’t want to have to make a trip to the store to get cookie ingredients. Which meant that I would need to make sugar cookies, since we had all the ingredients already. Now I don’t particularly like sugar cookies, but I wasn’t going to eat them anyway, so that was acceptable, but who knew making sugar cookies could turn out to be such a hassle? It wasn’t that bad doing the whole “mixing of the ingredients” steps, but when I got to the part where I actually had to make the cookies, the whole rolling out the dough, and using the jack o’lantern cutter-outer, and spatulaing the cookies up and onto the sheet, and cooking the cookies till they were done parts were actually kind of tricky. Yes, I used flour to coat everything (after Katie took pity on my pitiful first attempts at rolling out) but the dough still tended to stick to everything it touched, so I was fuming and complaining, and Katie and the kids were mocking and laughing, and I continued to fume and complain, and it took way too much time and effort to wind up with a couple of batches of pretty pitiful looking pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies that probably won’t even get eaten. And if it turns out that they sit on the table and nobody takes any, I’m going to feel really bad – like really, really bad – like total failure bad - so I’m hoping people take pity on the pitiful pumpkins and eat a few so I don’t feel like a complete and utter failure.
That’s all for this edition, so until next time, may your random acts be kind, may your cookie dough cooperate, and may your mercury remain safely enclosed in whatever thermometer you might have hanging around.
So I finished up my swim the other morning, showered off, and then hopped into my car, eager, as usual, to get to work (just can’t wait to start another day of educating 150ish eager young middle schoolers). As I started to pull out of my parking space, this guy stopped his car right behind me. Then he opened his door and got out. I was thinking, “What the heck is this guy doing?” in an irritated, I’m-in-a-hurry-here kind of way, so I beeped my horn at him in my irritation. Next, he knocked on my window, and I’m wondering, what the heck is up with this guy, but when I roll down my window, he hands me the water bottle that I had set on my car and forgotten about. “Thanks,” I mumbled sheepishly, feeling like a complete and total jerk. Here’s some random guy who goes out of his way to help me out, and I beep my horn at him. Definitely not my finest moment.
Half an Ironman is Better than None
Anyone who knows my lovely wife, Katie, probably also knows that she’s been working hard for the past few months training for a half ironman. If you’re not “in the know” this event consists of a 1.2-mile swim, followed by a 56-mile bike ride and a 13.1-mile run, which, as you might imagine, presents quite a challenge. Anyway, she was very excited to complete her event last weekend and become an official “Half-Ironman.” I think it’s pretty cool, too, though I have to say that I’m not all that impressed with the title of “Half-Ironman.” After all, when I completed a sprint triathlon (which was essentially ¼ of what she did) I got to be a “Tinfoilman,” which I think is a pretty cool thing to be (as opposed to a “One-Eighth-Ironman, which just sounds kind of lame). Since Katie has now done this event, I’m tempted to sign up for one myself, but I’d like to be known as something better-sounding than a “Half-Ironman” so I come up with a list of possibilities, which include, in no particular order: Leadman (sounds kind of slow and heavy), Nickelman, Manganeseman, Copperman (kind of cool for AZ), Zincman, Molybdenumman (try to say that fast three times in a row), Silverman (too sleek?), Cadmiumman, Tungstenman, Platinumman (probably too much), Mercuryman (definitely too fast for me), Uraniumman (too radioactive), and Plutoniumman (ditto). I’m not sure which one I like the best, but several sound better than “Half-Ironman” – at least to me.
Kitchen Nightmares
Every once in awhile, we have a “staff lunch” at school where one of the teams is supposed to bring in food for everyone else. Personally, I kind of hate the whole idea, because it’s a hassle when I have to bring in food, and when I don’t bring in food, I don’t really like to eat what’s brought in, partly because we don’t eat until 12:45 or so and I can’t make it that long without food, and partly because you never know what’s going to be brought in, and it’s often kind of a mish-mash of random selections, so who knows what you’re going to get, and though I’m not all that particular about what I eat (really, I swear I’m not) I do ride my bike home from work, and eating a bunch of random food right before a workout just isn’t a good idea – for a variety of reasons that I really don’t need to get into. So I generally abstain. Anyway, this week was our team’s assigned week, so I figured I’d pull a fast one by volunteering to bring in the paper plates, bowls, napkins, etc. since all that involves is making some purchases (and as it turned out, it didn’t involve even that since we have a whole bunch of surplus stuff in the office that’s up for grabs, so all I really had to do was go and get it together (although there was some grumbling about the fact that the paper products were plain white and didn’t really have a proper “holiday/Halloween motif” which some people actually care about – not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s so far away from anything remotely important to me that I have a hard time relating) but then that wound up not getting me off the hook after all, because someone decided we didn’t have enough desserts for everyone, so since I wasn’t really bringing anything in, I was “volunteered” to bring in Halloween cookies, and I didn’t really feel like I could refuse, so I agreed to do so. Which left me in a bit of a quandary, because I don’t really like to make cookies (I leave that to Katie and Connor – both of whom enjoy cookie-baking immensely) plus, I really didn’t want to have to make a trip to the store to get cookie ingredients. Which meant that I would need to make sugar cookies, since we had all the ingredients already. Now I don’t particularly like sugar cookies, but I wasn’t going to eat them anyway, so that was acceptable, but who knew making sugar cookies could turn out to be such a hassle? It wasn’t that bad doing the whole “mixing of the ingredients” steps, but when I got to the part where I actually had to make the cookies, the whole rolling out the dough, and using the jack o’lantern cutter-outer, and spatulaing the cookies up and onto the sheet, and cooking the cookies till they were done parts were actually kind of tricky. Yes, I used flour to coat everything (after Katie took pity on my pitiful first attempts at rolling out) but the dough still tended to stick to everything it touched, so I was fuming and complaining, and Katie and the kids were mocking and laughing, and I continued to fume and complain, and it took way too much time and effort to wind up with a couple of batches of pretty pitiful looking pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies that probably won’t even get eaten. And if it turns out that they sit on the table and nobody takes any, I’m going to feel really bad – like really, really bad – like total failure bad - so I’m hoping people take pity on the pitiful pumpkins and eat a few so I don’t feel like a complete and utter failure.
That’s all for this edition, so until next time, may your random acts be kind, may your cookie dough cooperate, and may your mercury remain safely enclosed in whatever thermometer you might have hanging around.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Rodents, Mold, and a Really Big Mountain
It’s been a really, really long time since the last posting, and I have absolutely no excuse, so without further ado, here we go…
Think Snakes on a Plane” was scary? How about Gerbils in the Bedroom?
Connor has two gerbils that he loves dearly (and to his credit, he takes really good care of them). Unfortunately, these two little rascals (Snake-eyes and Stormtrooper) managed to escape from their cage this week. Apparently, there was just the tiniest bit of a gap in the seam of their cage, and they managed to squeeze their way out so they could embark upon a little adventure. We didn’t discover they were missing from their cage until Katie and I were getting ready for bed and she exclaimed, “There’s a mouse!” which made me laugh (not exactly sure why), and she repeated, “There’s a mouse that just went under our bed!” which made me laugh even harder (really, I don’t know why I found this amusing) and then she got down on hands and knees to see if she could see the mouse, and then she thought, wait a minute, maybe it isn’t a mouse, maybe it’s a gerbil, so she went to check on Connor’s gerbils, and sure enough, the gerbils were missing from their cage and it was actually one of them she saw and now a mouse at all (not sure if it was Snake-bite or Thunderstorm). So Connor and Katie and I spread out around the bed and started poking and prodding and grasping as we attempted to capture the gerbil, who was running here and there, and darting in and out, until finally, Katie managed to grab her by the tail and returned her to the cage. Which left us with one gerbil still on the lam. We searched the house high and low, but no luck, so we all went to bed. Unfortunately, the gerbil was in our bedroom, and since gerbils are nocturnal, we spent the rest of the night listening to the gerbil skitter and gnaw and do who-knows-what-else that gerbils do at night when we’re all trying to sleep. Meanwhile, the cat also heard the gerbil skittering and gnawing and who-knows-what-elseing, so she spent a good portion of the night knocking on our door asking to be let in so she could have a little midnight snack. It got so bad that sometime around 4 a.m., Katie finally gave in and let the cat in – she didn’t ever catch the gerbil, but she did meow a lot. Needless to say, neither one of us got much sleep that night. Fortunately, Katie managed to capture the gerbil the next morning when it tried to join her in the shower and she was then able to chase it around the toilet and into a well-placed Trader Joe’s bag. So I guess all’s well that ends well.
Leaky Faucets
A couple of weeks ago, we decided to replace our very old, very loud, no-longer-functioning-effectively dishwasher. Unfortunately, when the guy went to put it in, he discovered that the drainage pipe under our sink was leaking, and the walls and cabinets were soaking wet. So we called a plumber, who fixed the pipe, but he discovered that the soaking walls/cabinets were infested with mold. So now we’re in the process of figuring out what to do and how much insurance will cover and all that fun stuff. The good news is that it looks like this might be a good excuse for Katie to finally get the kitchen update she’s been hoping for. The bad news is that it looks like this might be a good excuse for Katie to finally get the kitchen update she’s been hoping for. I guess it’s all a matter of perspective.
World’s Toughest Road Marathon
That’s how they billed the inaugural Mt. Lemmon Marathon that was held last weekend. 26.2 miles starting at the bottom of the mountain, just past mile marker zero on the Mt. Lemmon Highway, and continuing up, up and away (from 3,000 feet to around 8,500) all the way to Summerhaven (with a little bit of an out-and-back at the end thrown in for good measure. After completing the event, I’m going to have to say that it was definitely the hardest marathon I’ve ever done. I hung in pretty well through the first 15 miles or so, but once we hit the 7,000 foot mark, I started finding it very difficult to breathe. And the hills just kept on coming. So I did a lot of walking up the hills (at a pretty decent clip, though) and ran when I could on any downhill portions (there actually are a couple of these close to the end – thank goodness). All in all, though, it was a great day. The weather was perfect, the views were spectacular, I managed to finish in under 5 ½ hours, and my lovely wife was waiting for me at the top when I finally rolled in. I don’t know if I’ll do the full again next year, but I’ll be sorely tempted to come back and try the half (starting at Windy Point) to see how I can do on that.
That’s all for this edition, so until next time, may your rodents remain securely secured, may your mold remain mildew-free, and may your mountains remain molehills.
Think Snakes on a Plane” was scary? How about Gerbils in the Bedroom?
Connor has two gerbils that he loves dearly (and to his credit, he takes really good care of them). Unfortunately, these two little rascals (Snake-eyes and Stormtrooper) managed to escape from their cage this week. Apparently, there was just the tiniest bit of a gap in the seam of their cage, and they managed to squeeze their way out so they could embark upon a little adventure. We didn’t discover they were missing from their cage until Katie and I were getting ready for bed and she exclaimed, “There’s a mouse!” which made me laugh (not exactly sure why), and she repeated, “There’s a mouse that just went under our bed!” which made me laugh even harder (really, I don’t know why I found this amusing) and then she got down on hands and knees to see if she could see the mouse, and then she thought, wait a minute, maybe it isn’t a mouse, maybe it’s a gerbil, so she went to check on Connor’s gerbils, and sure enough, the gerbils were missing from their cage and it was actually one of them she saw and now a mouse at all (not sure if it was Snake-bite or Thunderstorm). So Connor and Katie and I spread out around the bed and started poking and prodding and grasping as we attempted to capture the gerbil, who was running here and there, and darting in and out, until finally, Katie managed to grab her by the tail and returned her to the cage. Which left us with one gerbil still on the lam. We searched the house high and low, but no luck, so we all went to bed. Unfortunately, the gerbil was in our bedroom, and since gerbils are nocturnal, we spent the rest of the night listening to the gerbil skitter and gnaw and do who-knows-what-else that gerbils do at night when we’re all trying to sleep. Meanwhile, the cat also heard the gerbil skittering and gnawing and who-knows-what-elseing, so she spent a good portion of the night knocking on our door asking to be let in so she could have a little midnight snack. It got so bad that sometime around 4 a.m., Katie finally gave in and let the cat in – she didn’t ever catch the gerbil, but she did meow a lot. Needless to say, neither one of us got much sleep that night. Fortunately, Katie managed to capture the gerbil the next morning when it tried to join her in the shower and she was then able to chase it around the toilet and into a well-placed Trader Joe’s bag. So I guess all’s well that ends well.
Leaky Faucets
A couple of weeks ago, we decided to replace our very old, very loud, no-longer-functioning-effectively dishwasher. Unfortunately, when the guy went to put it in, he discovered that the drainage pipe under our sink was leaking, and the walls and cabinets were soaking wet. So we called a plumber, who fixed the pipe, but he discovered that the soaking walls/cabinets were infested with mold. So now we’re in the process of figuring out what to do and how much insurance will cover and all that fun stuff. The good news is that it looks like this might be a good excuse for Katie to finally get the kitchen update she’s been hoping for. The bad news is that it looks like this might be a good excuse for Katie to finally get the kitchen update she’s been hoping for. I guess it’s all a matter of perspective.
World’s Toughest Road Marathon
That’s how they billed the inaugural Mt. Lemmon Marathon that was held last weekend. 26.2 miles starting at the bottom of the mountain, just past mile marker zero on the Mt. Lemmon Highway, and continuing up, up and away (from 3,000 feet to around 8,500) all the way to Summerhaven (with a little bit of an out-and-back at the end thrown in for good measure. After completing the event, I’m going to have to say that it was definitely the hardest marathon I’ve ever done. I hung in pretty well through the first 15 miles or so, but once we hit the 7,000 foot mark, I started finding it very difficult to breathe. And the hills just kept on coming. So I did a lot of walking up the hills (at a pretty decent clip, though) and ran when I could on any downhill portions (there actually are a couple of these close to the end – thank goodness). All in all, though, it was a great day. The weather was perfect, the views were spectacular, I managed to finish in under 5 ½ hours, and my lovely wife was waiting for me at the top when I finally rolled in. I don’t know if I’ll do the full again next year, but I’ll be sorely tempted to come back and try the half (starting at Windy Point) to see how I can do on that.
That’s all for this edition, so until next time, may your rodents remain securely secured, may your mold remain mildew-free, and may your mountains remain molehills.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Hills, Thermostats, and Coincidences
Run Like the Wind…
That was the name of the 10k race I ran last Saturday in beautiful Allenspark, CO (elevation 8,504 feet). Let's just say I didn't exactly "run like the wind," unless the wind was a really slow and tired wind that huffed and puffed up all kind of hills (and there were a lot of hills). But I did finish in under an hour and wound up in 12th place (of course, there were only 36 participants). And I got - yet another - t-shirt for the collection.
Speaking of Colorado…
We just got back from 3 1/2 beautiful weeks in the Rocky Mountains. Weather was mostly in the 70's and 80's, though we did have a couple of cold and rainy days. Lots of beautiful hiking, and lots and lots of hill training at high elevation to help try to get ready for Mt. Lemmon. Also watched almost all of "The Sopranos" episodes (still have one season to go), finally got around to reading the Stieg Larsson trilogy (liked the Lisbeth Salander character, didn't care so much for the Mikael Blomkvist character - seriously, how many girls can fall in love with a dopey guy like that?), and saw a moose and several deer. All in all, it was a beautiful and relaxing couple of weeks. So we drove back to Tucson on Monday, which was an all-day, 14-hour affair, pulled up at the house, and all I wanted to do was order a pizza and crash on my couch. But no, that was not to be, because for whatever reason, our thermostat was on the blink and said it was 35 degrees in the house (it was more like 100). So I messed around with the thermostat, and tried to call the toll-free number (no one was answering) and checked on-line for solutions, and messed around with it some more, and cursed and sweated quite a bit, but nothing worked. So we finally gave up, went to Applebee's for dinner, and drove across town to Katie's parent's house, where we spent the night. That night, there was a big storm and power went out in our neighborhood for several hours, which must have somehow reset the thermostat in some magical and mysterious way, because when we came back home the next morning, the thermostat was working and the AC went right on, and it's been working ever since. So I guess all's well that ends well. And I'm not sure there's anything that's quite as nice as a working air conditioning unit in July in Tucson.
Another note on CO
This just in from the "it's a small world department." While on vacation, we spent a weekend with our friends Alan and Val in Vail/Avon who took us river rafting through Glenwood Canyon (brought back lots of memories of summer camp days) and then for a hike in the Holy Cross Wilderness area the next day. To get to the trailhead, we had to drive a couple of hours, including about 10 miles on a fairly rough dirt road. So we were pretty much in the middle of nowhere. So we set off on our hike, and about halfway up the trail, we passed a group of hikers coming down, and one of the guys saw Katie's TNT jersey and asked where we were from, and when she told him Tucson, he said, "Hey, do you happen to know Rick?" to which I said that I did and that I coached with him, and it turned out that he was Rick's best friend's brother. So he snapped a picture of us with his phone and sent it to Rick to freak him out. Pretty strange stuff.
Training Update
In addition to ramping things up to get ready for the epic climb of Mt. Lemmon (which I continue to have serious doubts about, but remain committed to) we're getting ready to kick off another TNT season in about a week. We've got a fairly big group signed up already for the Phoenix marathon and half-marathon, with lots of alumni, so it should be yet another great season.
That's all for this edition, so until next time, may your world remain manageable, may your hills remain climbable, and may the wind remain beneath your wings.
That was the name of the 10k race I ran last Saturday in beautiful Allenspark, CO (elevation 8,504 feet). Let's just say I didn't exactly "run like the wind," unless the wind was a really slow and tired wind that huffed and puffed up all kind of hills (and there were a lot of hills). But I did finish in under an hour and wound up in 12th place (of course, there were only 36 participants). And I got - yet another - t-shirt for the collection.
Speaking of Colorado…
We just got back from 3 1/2 beautiful weeks in the Rocky Mountains. Weather was mostly in the 70's and 80's, though we did have a couple of cold and rainy days. Lots of beautiful hiking, and lots and lots of hill training at high elevation to help try to get ready for Mt. Lemmon. Also watched almost all of "The Sopranos" episodes (still have one season to go), finally got around to reading the Stieg Larsson trilogy (liked the Lisbeth Salander character, didn't care so much for the Mikael Blomkvist character - seriously, how many girls can fall in love with a dopey guy like that?), and saw a moose and several deer. All in all, it was a beautiful and relaxing couple of weeks. So we drove back to Tucson on Monday, which was an all-day, 14-hour affair, pulled up at the house, and all I wanted to do was order a pizza and crash on my couch. But no, that was not to be, because for whatever reason, our thermostat was on the blink and said it was 35 degrees in the house (it was more like 100). So I messed around with the thermostat, and tried to call the toll-free number (no one was answering) and checked on-line for solutions, and messed around with it some more, and cursed and sweated quite a bit, but nothing worked. So we finally gave up, went to Applebee's for dinner, and drove across town to Katie's parent's house, where we spent the night. That night, there was a big storm and power went out in our neighborhood for several hours, which must have somehow reset the thermostat in some magical and mysterious way, because when we came back home the next morning, the thermostat was working and the AC went right on, and it's been working ever since. So I guess all's well that ends well. And I'm not sure there's anything that's quite as nice as a working air conditioning unit in July in Tucson.
Another note on CO
This just in from the "it's a small world department." While on vacation, we spent a weekend with our friends Alan and Val in Vail/Avon who took us river rafting through Glenwood Canyon (brought back lots of memories of summer camp days) and then for a hike in the Holy Cross Wilderness area the next day. To get to the trailhead, we had to drive a couple of hours, including about 10 miles on a fairly rough dirt road. So we were pretty much in the middle of nowhere. So we set off on our hike, and about halfway up the trail, we passed a group of hikers coming down, and one of the guys saw Katie's TNT jersey and asked where we were from, and when she told him Tucson, he said, "Hey, do you happen to know Rick?" to which I said that I did and that I coached with him, and it turned out that he was Rick's best friend's brother. So he snapped a picture of us with his phone and sent it to Rick to freak him out. Pretty strange stuff.
Training Update
In addition to ramping things up to get ready for the epic climb of Mt. Lemmon (which I continue to have serious doubts about, but remain committed to) we're getting ready to kick off another TNT season in about a week. We've got a fairly big group signed up already for the Phoenix marathon and half-marathon, with lots of alumni, so it should be yet another great season.
That's all for this edition, so until next time, may your world remain manageable, may your hills remain climbable, and may the wind remain beneath your wings.
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