Adventures In Lindaland

This time I really %#$@ed up

2012-02-13T05:27:00.005-06:00

This has been a difficult, sleepless night. I ruined a close friendship by jumping to some wrong conclusions and saying some things from a place of hurt that I wish wholeheartedly I could unsay. And for the first time, it is sinking in that I have caused this friend a great deal of stress-- not just on this occasion, but overall. That kills me.

My friendships mean more than life to me, and I own this epic failure. My lack of sensivity cost me someone dear. It feels really bad. Being a negative in someone's life is definitely a place I don't want to go to in any of my relationships.

It may be too late for this situation. Misunderstandings (mostly on my part) are frequent and have surpassed the times of joy lately and with a heavy heart, I'm beginning to understand what a big toll it has taken.

But as a result I'm going to spend a considerable amount of time soul-searching and facing up to some aspects of myself and how they can negatively affect others. I'm very emotional and reactive. Spontaneous. Say things without thinking. I'm very critical of myself. Hopefully more of a self-awareness of these traits will help me to step back before possibly making the same mistakes again.

We human beings are evolving creatures. I pray that this situation prompts me to grow in the right direction.

body and soul

2012-01-22T14:45:00.002-06:00

I'm not an outstanding athlete. I'm not even a good athlete. But about three weeks ago, my sister Teresa, upon hearing that Bally's and LA Fitness have merged, uttered five words that have changed me-- "we can work out together."

Teresa's a marathoner extraordinaire and works out like a fiend. I... not so much. We've been meeting at lunchtime a couple of times a week and she's really putting me through the paces with seemingly impossible cardio and strength training moves. On the first day, I literally cried. Not just because I was in pain (I was) but also because I was embarassed that she is so far in advance of me fitness-wise, but yet is willing to give me so much time and encouragement. Not surprising because that who she is, but touching nevertheless.

So we've been running up and down stairs. Ten times. With 20 pound weights. We've been doing push-ups, sit-up, all the torturous machines, sprint laps and everything in between. I hate it. I love it. I get discouraged. I get encouraged. Throughout it all, Teresa is right there with me. To tell me to shut up when I tell her I hate her. To make me smile when I'm grimacing. To send me an email when I get back to my desk after a particularly grueling session that read "good job. I'm proud of you." Thanks T. There are no words to tell you how much your efforts inspire me. And I'm already seeing a payoff in my running. Today I ran a 7:59 minute mile. Child's play to most people, but huge to me. Huge. I can't wait to run my next 5K.

I've also been reinvigorated with my art. I'm in the midst of a small diptych (each piece is 12" x 12") that is completely unlike anything I've ever done. It's mixed media-- I started with Andy Warhol-ish black and white photographs of men, then women, who have somehow influenced me. Most I know personally. Some I don't. It was a walk down memory lane and a research project of sorts (finding a photograph of the doctor who saved my life, who is surprisingly still practicing in Johnstown, PA). Over these images, I applied semi-gloss gel medium and acrylic washes of color, black and white self-portraits and other collage elements to make it align with my vision. It is perhaps the most intensely personal work I've ever done.

Additionally, I got a message from a friend of mine who I haven't talked to in close to 15 years. He's a published novelist who has finished his second novel and has also ressurrected his internet column on writing. He asked me to come up with a logo for said column. I'm tickled, both to be back in contact with this talented and personable individual, but also because he thought of me when he needed artwork. My mind is alive with possibilities for this adventure.

2012-01-07T20:21:00.004-06:00

I've been cooking. As part of my New Year's Resolution, I vowed to do "more" of the things that are good for me-- running, lifting weights, knitting, making art, eating in more-- both to eat healthier and to save money.

I've never been much of a cook, even though both of my grandmothers excelled at it. I remember Grammy, every weekend, putting out a huge spread from appetizers to desserts. She made a Lithuanian potato dish that I was particularly fond of, and her lemon pie defies adequate praise.

My mom, on the other hand, specializes in Kraft macaroni and cheese and Hamburger Helper. After I got married and moved to Chicago, I figured, "why bother learning?" We live in Little Italy. And every place delivers.

Oddly enough, though, restaurant food gets boring. So it was with a spirit of adventure that I bought a few cookbooks and supplies I've never heard of and went to task. I'm pretty proud of some of the things I've made this week-- beer glazed slow cooked pot roast with onions and mushrooms, served with oven baked red potatoes with olive oil and rosemary. Mediterranean chicken served over whole wheat noodles with chopped spinach. Cranberry-almond quinoa breakfast cookies. Next up is pork with pecan sweet potatoes.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to burn my pizza menu from D'Agostino's. Not hardly! Or that I'm going to do this every day. But, still... for now I'm having fun with it. I might even buy an apron!

The best of 2011

2011-12-30T14:00:00.003-06:00

A lot of people approach New Year's Eve by reflecting on the year that is almost at a close. I'm no different. 2011 most certainly had its share (or more!) of challenges, but I prefer to remember the positives. Here goes. Each category is not in any particular order.

Best Books I've Read
1. The Runner's Guide to the Meaning of Life - Amby Burfoot
2. Unbroken - Laura Hillenbrand
3. Lucy - Laurence Gonzales
4. Damned - Chuck Palahniuk
5. 11/22/63 - Stephen King
6. Jack Kennedy: Elusive Hero - Chris Matthews
7. The Paris Wife - Paula McLain
8. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks - Rebecca Skloot
9. Shantaram - Gregory David Roberts
10. Swamplandia! - Karen Russell
11. Andy Warhol: Prince of Pop - Jan Greenberg and Sandra Jordan
12. In the Garden of Beasts - Erik Larson

Best Races
1. Bloody Reindear Treadmill 5K - 2/6/11 - A quirky race with my buddies that featured wine instead of water and "potato chip" timing.
2. Shamrock Shuffle 8K - 4/10/11 - First race after healing a broken bone in my foot. Did it in walking boot and crossed the finish line hand in hand with my sister Kimmy (her first race)
3. Bunny Run 5K - 4/23/11 - Celebrated John's birthday and Easter weekend-- and llamas!
4. Soldier Field 10 Miler - 5/28/11 - Best race ever, no matter what.
5. Girls on the Run 5K - 6/4/11 - Ran it with my niece Alexis. Hot day!
6. Champions Run 5K - 8/6/11 - Not the smartest thing I ever did. Ran less than 48 hours after oral surgery
7. Race2Base - 9/11/11 - Very special place, very special date, very special people. Crossed the finish line with my niece Kaylee, which was the start of her progression as a runner
8. ZooRunRun 5K - 9/25/11 - My birthday run! Met Heena for the first time and enjoyed running side by side with my sister Teresa, who was recovering from an injury
9. Homecoming 5K - 10/23/11 - Came in third in my age group and had fun representing St. Francis College!
10. Monster Dash 5K - 10/29/11 - Ran as Freddy Krueger!
11. Lincolnwood Turkey Trot 5K - 11/20/11 - Always do well here, always run with my favorite people on a beautiful suburban course.
12. Santa Hustle 5K - 12/3/11 - The inaugural race of the Bloody Reindears!

Most Special Moments
1. Two early-year holidays - New Year's Eve with 7th Heaven and surprising John with a home-cooked dinner on Valentine's Day
2. Summer Fests throughout Chicagoland - Celebrating the beauty and diversity of Chicago and suburban neighborhoods while rocking out to our favorite band, 7th Heaven
3. 4th of July family trip - a long weekend in Gurnee, spending time in Great America and then Great Lakes Naval Base with my sisters and family.
4. Pittsburgh Trip in August - getting to reconnect with Chuck, Ted and Monica and see art and sports in a great little city.
5. Volunteering at Chicago Marathon - manning the 25-mile mark water station with my family was awesome
6. Boston Bruins win the Stanley Cup - not since 1972. Wow.
7. Being asked to be Alexis's confirmation sponsor
8. Getting two fantastic new co-workers on the CRM team-- Jason and Yvette
9. Presenting Alexis with a portrait for her 13th birthday
10. Spring/summer/fall at Great America with the family... water park and coasters, wine and Captain 'n Cokes.
11. My beautiful cats. Enjoying every moment with them.
12. Winter break - getting uninterrupted time to spend with John and my family and friends.

Love and loss

2011-12-10T09:15:00.003-06:00

My heart is heavy. A year ago today, I lost one of my dearest friends, Suellen. To say that I think about her often would be a gross understatement. She was the person I went to in times of joy-- to share my laughter-- and also in times of distress-- because I knew she would never fail to console me with that practical charm she always showed. Losing her will always affect me. But having had her in my life affects me even more. Please take a minute to look at Sempringham's blog (on my friends blogs list to the left). Bob posted some beautiful pictures of her.

One year later, I'm coping with another impending loss. My 13-year-old cat Sheila was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer. All we can do is provide her with palliative care and cherish her in her remaining days. Although she is lethargic and not herself, she is not in pain but we know that when the decline happens, we'll have to do the merciful thing and let her go. It's tearing me apart.

I've cried a lot of tears over the last little while and I'm sure I'll shed some more before it's over. Throughout it all, though, I'm very grateful for my husband John, who is a pillar of strength and solace. He's the "cat whisperer" and I know that this is as difficult for him-- probably even more so-- than it is for me. Still, his is the shoulder that comforts me and the gentle, steady presence who gives me so much love. I'm also blessed with two glorious sisters, Teresa and Kimmy, who know me so well and who nurture me without hesitation. I appreciate so much that they have taken time out of their busy holiday schedules to make sure I get out of the house and smile a bit. Monica and Dean, too, dear friends who have recently endured or are in the process of enduring the same pet challenge that I am, have been unfailingly kind. Thanks to Vince for his heartfelt words, Yvette for listening and Mary for the amazing hugs. All of those around me have shown incredible compassion-- too many to name individually-- and I'm lucky to have them all.

And Suellen. I know she is here with me right now. She's with me every time I flick open my Kindle. Or eat a delicious baked good. Or carefully pick baby corn out of my salad. I can see that knowing smile clearly and it fills me with warmth.

Great love means great sadness. But a life without love would be even more sad. I know that the overwhelming grief that I'm feeling right now will fade in time. And I also know that the love will not. God bless.

John F. Kennedy

2011-11-22T19:01:00.003-06:00

Tonight I'm spending the evening in front of The History Channel watching all of the JFK programs, completely enraptured.

I'm a child of Massachusetts, so of course I revere the Kennedys. Have done so all my life. But I was less than two month old when the President was assassinated on that grim day in Dallas, yet mysteriously I have such a deep reaction to it.

Why?

I think about this a lot. Those of you who know me well (and even those who don't) know that I'm almost obsessed with this iconic family. I watch and read everything I can about them. I cried real tears while watching Ted Kennedy's funeral. I mark November 22 ever year as if it were a personal event.

In some ways, I think it's simply because of where I grew up. JFK's portrait adorned every classroom that I can recall from grade school. I have memories of my great-aunt Kathy, at every upheaval in the news during my childhood, remarking vehemently, "I'm going to write to Senator Kennedy." And she did. We knew the Kennedys were for us. All of us.

More than that, though, I think they represent to me a family who, despite their difficulties, are a CLOSE family. Not to get too deeply into my youth, I did not have that. Also, my beloved grandfather shared the love of Cape Cod with the Kennedys. I remember being on my grandfather's lobster boat and viewing the Kennedy compound in Hyannisport from the Atlantic. It was a normal part of my life.

So today I am riveted by all things Kennedy. Yes, they have their flaws. But I will always have a soft spot in my heart for Camelot.

some things I did not do well today....

2011-11-21T18:32:00.003-06:00

I'm in a bit of a funk. Work is extremely busy and full of software applications that are just not behaving lately. I had a snafu with my AOL account, which I'm trying to shut down and I'm caught up in a bunch of red tape. Our cat, Sheila, is having some health issues that are worrying me. The holidays are coming up. Although I love the true meaning behind the season, the decorations, the parties, I dread the unrealistic expectations and the ancient family dramas that the holidays always provoke. I have to go to the dentist tomorrow.

Wah. Poor freakin' me. Generally, I can find it within myself to cope pretty well with the curveballs the universe puts in my path. But sometimes, I suck at it.

Right now I'm sucking.

I'm so fortunate to have a wonderful support system of friends and family who have been in constant contact with me to offer a hug or a beer, or in some cases, both. I have a gorgeous, patient and kind husband who is a pillar of strength and-- who knows why-- tolerates me even when I'm a beast. I live in the greatest city on earth and can go ice skating at lunchtime. I have a roof over my head and chocolate in my belly when I need it.

Despite all that wonderfulness, I found myself today spending way too much time focused on negativity. Bemoaning the few people in my life who disappoint me. Those who cannot accept your shortcomings but are always quick to point out what you do wrong or how you should be. The ones who are so wrapped up in their own self-importance that they can only see through the lens of what you can do for them. Wishing I could lose five pounds and that ginormous zit that's about to erupt on my chin. Or that I could run faster, have nicer hair, more money in my savings account.

Life is all about balance. Good and bad. I honestly have way more good than bad. And a day when I don't see that is, well, a day wasted.

This post is my attempt to refocus.

Stranger than fiction

2011-11-02T20:33:00.002-05:00

Part of my job involves creating the electronic version of our firm's thought leadership pieces, querying our CRM system for the appropriate recipients, distributing the bulk email and finally managing the bouncebacks.

Most times said bouncebacks are very mundane in nature. So-and-so is out of the office today. If you need immediate assistance, contact this person. Or, effective x date, so-and-so is no longer employed at XYZ Corp. But ever once in a while, I get to peer into something much more lively.

Today I saw an out-of-office greeting for an individual who was taking a biking vacation in Vietnam and Cambodia. In addition to the dates of her absence and instructions on how to get assistance while she was away, she also provided a link to a blog that promised to tell of her travels. Intrigued, I made a note of it to explore further when I got home. I'm a sucker for blogs.

Much to my delight, the blog indeed told the story of her trip in well-written detail and featured some beautiful photography. I was captivated so I read on.

In earlier posts, she shared a compelling facet of her life. It seems that on her deathbed, her mother revealed to this woman (Emily) that she (Emily) had a half-sister from her father's previous marriage. Emily spent her entire life (I don't know for sure, but from the pictures, she appears to be in her 50's) not knowing this important detail about her past.

Life continued on and this shocking revelation took a back burner until several years later when the mysterious half-sister contacted her by letter. By now, Emily's dad was dead and the half-sister was researching her family tree and-- through the dad's obituary-- discovered Emily. They corresponded and eventually met, all of which was documented in the blog.

Wow. It's funny and amazing how cyberspace and serendipity led me to a true story that was much more interesting than a lot of the fiction I read. I intend on checking her blog frequently. Just to see how it all turns out.

Finding inspiration

2011-10-18T20:09:00.005-05:00

The other day I was wandering around downtown and stopped at the Gallery 37 store. Essentially, it's an art gallery that sells works by Chicago Public School students (http://www.afterschoolmatters.com/). Much of what's there is breathtakingly beautiful. And today I visited Project Onward Gallery (http://www.projectonward.org/) at the Chicago Cultural Center. This venue fosters the creative process in those with mental or developmental disabilities. Again, the work is magnificent.

I couldn't help but be inspired by both visits. Seeing works of art, whether in a traditional or alternative setting, brings out an almost visceral need in me to put paint to canvas. Plus, I've been wallowing lately in too much mindless activity-- tv, internet and the like. I've been feeling like I want to DO something. MAKE something.

Out came the canvas and brushes tonight. I've been dabbling with a few ideas off and on and in fact I have a painting started of 7th Heaven. But do you ever care so much about something that you're afraid of it? That's how I'm reacting to that painting. Eventually I plan on doing a diptych and sharing it with the band. So clearly it's precious and, being rusty, I'm afraid of "messing it up." Duh. It's acrylic-- which is very forgiving-- and painting is like riding a bike-- comes back quickly. Nevertheless. So for now I'm giving myself permission to leave it off to the side and I'm putting on the "training wheels" again by working on an abstract addition to my virus series.

Unless I'm in a class, painting can be something I do in fits and starts. Still, I'm encouraged by the simple act of that first brush stroke. Feels a lot better than reality tv.

Let me tell you about my birthday weekend...

2011-10-01T11:50:00.004-05:00

I've been 48 years old for a week now. Damn. That's friggin' old! Seriously, though, it really doesn't feel that way to me. I like to think that my spirit of fun and adventure keeps me kinda young. That, and the fact that I still wear Muppets t-shirts.

My birthday weekend was incredible, even though the days leading up to it were not without some negative vibes and drama.

On Friday after work, my sister Teresa took me to a Blackhawks game while John watched my niece and nephew. Even though it's pre-season, the United Center was rocking and we had the ultimate great time, with lots of laughter, deep conversation, beers and pretzels! It was a lovely autumnal evening so we walked home from the United Center. I adore Teresa; our closeness

sustains me.

Meanwhile, John, Sean and Alexis were having a good time of their own. John's a very indulgent uncle so it was a night filled with snack foods, age-inappropriate movies and video games galore. We all decided to make it a sleepover; Teresa and I crashed around midnight, while John and the kids stayed up til well past three.

On Saturday morning after the family left, my friend Susan and I had lunch downtown and saw the kimono exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago. I was in awe of the color and design; as always, AIC is a place of great joy for me. And it's always wonderful to see Susan. We talked a lot about Suellen, who we lost in December. Suellen's birthday is two days before mine, so she has been on our minds even more lately. Through our friendship, Susan and I keep the memory of Suellen alive and near.

John and I made a Target on Saturday night, where I was delighted to find Jackie Kennedy's recently-released interviews in a book/cd combo, as well as chicken jammies (what can I say, I have a fascination with chickens-- I don't know exactly why).

Got up bright and early to go to Brookfield Zoo for a 5K on Sunday. I was so excited to celebrate my birthday surrounded by the people I love while doing something I love-- running! John and I were met there by my sisters Teresa and Kimmy, my nephews Justin and Sean, my niece Kaylee, Denise, Ron and Maria and baby Kaden, and Kimmy's friend Heena. I was presented with a colorful handmade "happy birthday" sign, a tiara and some red swedish fish candies. More surprises would be coming later.

It was Teresa's first race after conquering a tibial stress fracture. Kaylee has expressed a big interest in competitive running, much to our delight, so T and I ran with her, helping her to pace herself and having a great time singing and looking at the animals along the way. It was a delight. Meanwhile, it was Mia's first race back after giving birth to Kaden about a month ago. She rocked that jogging stroller! And to add another milestone to the day, Denise came in first in her age group.

After the race we had a tailgate birthday party in the parking lot. Denise made chocolate cupcakes and -- wow-- did I ever get presents! Gorgeous jewelry from John. From my sisters and the kids-- a running shirt, two Angry Birds stuffed animals, llama jammies and a pocket llama (yes, another bizarre animal obsession of mine), a teddy bear. But the best gift of all was a photo album T made for me containing a "year in pictures"-- snapshots from Soldier Field and the crawfish celebration afterwards, races, baseball games, 7th Heaven shows, 4th of July, trips to Great America. The captions cracked me up-- T at her finest-- and I don't recall ever feeling so loved.

Not much time for rest and recovery because later that afternoon the crew gathered at our house to watch the Bears game and party some more. Kaylee and Alexis were involved in a "top secret" project in the rec room-- cardmaking for Aunt Linda. Once again I was bowled over by the love and consideration these people show me. I'm blessed beyond measure.

Linda's rules of shopping

2011-09-20T21:07:00.002-05:00

1. If, upon entering a store, a clothing item is surrounded in a halo of light just for you and is singing to you like all the choirs of heaven, buy it. Who are you to deny divine providence? If you don't buy it, you'll regret it. And worse yet, when you go back to get it, it'll be gone. Or, even worse, it'll still be there. But no longer in your size.

2. If you go shopping with a huge wad of cash to spend, you'll find nothing to buy. Conversely, if your checking account is sobbing and you're scraping the bottom of your purse just to buy a diet coke, can't-live-without clothing items will surround you like a swarm of bees.

3. Your best friends will tell you if you truly look awful in an outfit you're trying on. Especially if they want to buy something just like it.

4. When shopping with your husband and he asks you, "how many sweaters do you need?", the correct answer is, "baby, you can't count that high."

Like Nike said, just do it

2011-09-02T16:05:00.002-05:00

I went to book club this past Monday night. This time we read The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott, by Kelly O'Connor McNees. It's historical fiction, based on a year in the life of Louisa May Alcott, the summer before she begins her writing career in Boston. I like history a lot and although I don't gravitate towards historical fiction (mostly I like my history to be history and my fiction to be fiction), I've read some really good ones. I've also read some really poor ones. This one was somewhere in the middle.

Although the book was "meh" to me, the interesting thing about the meeting was that the author was in attendance for both dinner and the discussion afterwards. Being an English major in college and dabbling in writing myself in both high school and college (and a few random forays with the pen in my adulthood), I was intrigued by her process and peppered her with questions. I was impressed by her dogged determination. Once she made up her mind to write a novel, she had the discipline and commitment to just sit down and do it, carving out morning hours before her job to pursue her ambition. That's really awesome. There are a lot of things I like to do, too, but motivation is not always the easiest thing for me-- John often says that I have the attention span of a gnat and sometimes that's very true. I can be easily bored and distracted, even when I'm doing something I love.

In college, I had a friend named Eileen. She was in my Alpha Phi Omega pledge class. She lives in New York now, as a dispatcher for NYPD or FDNY, I can't remember which. I talk to her every now and then via Facebook and email. In college she always asked, "when are you going to write a book?" I laughed. She asks me that nowadays sometimes and I still laugh. Yet I keep thinking about Monday night and the possibility of writing a novel. Hmmm....

Sports everywhere for me, please

2011-08-22T17:49:00.003-05:00

Did you ever notice that sports are really fun no matter where you are? This past weekend we travelled to Pittsburgh. I lived a couple of hours from that city for a decade of my life, but it seemed so FAR. Mom was a single parent who struggled, working long hours to feed and clothe us so jaunts to the big city weren't very common. The only times we went to Pittsburgh were for an occasional Penguins game (pre-Mario days, when the tickets were easy to come by) and a weekly trip-- during 1977-78-- to my neurologist at Childrens Hospital after my accident. Oh yeah, once or twice for a play during high school.

I had never been to a Pirates game (watched them on tv every now and then with my cousin Tammy, who was really into baseball). Never been to a Steelers game (mom is one of the half- dozen people in Western PA who hates the Steelers, so that may have been an additional factor as to why we never went). So it was with a great deal of anticipation that we made our way to PNC Park and Heinz Field on a glorious summer weekend in Western Pennsylvania.

Both parks are situated on the riverfront. First was the Steelers game on Friday night. Pittsburgh is a football obsessed town, so virtually everyone was dressed in the black and gold. I love attending a sports event outdoors at night. The lights make the field seem so surreal and the colors are more intense somehow. I've never been a huge Steelers fan-- my football loyalty lies squarely with the New England Patriots and Chicago Bears (da Bearz!!). I was a little apprehensive about wearing the navy and orange in foreign territory, but no one commented. We were both exhausted from the long drive from Chicago and the late night the night before, so we left at halftime. Regardless, it was a treasured experience. The stadium is beautiful and my only complaint is the serious shortage of cabs there. When we were leaving, I asked an attendant which exit we should take for the cab stand. His look of incredulity was as if I had asked where to board the space shuttle. He said it would be hard. And it was. Although some guy pulling a bike contraption offered to take us back to the hotel for $75. We walked.

On Sunday afternoon we went to PNC Park for the Pirates game. Another gorgeous venue. It has a food court and shopping area that is very reminiscent of my favorite mall (ahhh, malls... ahhh, shopping!). And they had Iron City beer. Just like a trip to Chicago isn't complete without downing a couple pints or more of 312 brews, a trip to the Burgh isn't proper without some IC in your gut. Once again, I stayed true to my roots and came dressed in Cubbie blue. I was greeted mostly with pity because of it. Had I been holding a sign reading "spare change for a fan of a worse team than yours," I probably could've paid next month's electric bill. Again, we left early because our time in the city was short and we were trying to cram in a lot of activity, but it was another special outing.

See ya for a Pens game next time, Pittsburgh. Thanks for a good time.

An eventful couple of days...

2011-08-06T20:26:00.002-05:00

So, I was hit by a car when I was thirteen years old. Smashed my face to smithereens, including my teeth. Consequently, I've had a series of dental bridges since then (hey, at least I didn't have to go through the agony of braces). I had been battling a bad infection in one of my teeth for the past few weeks and my dentist gave me some grim news. The only way to fix it was to pull the tooth. And the tooth was the anchor to the bridge. And by the way, there's other stuff wrong under there. You know where this is going.

To make what is already going to be a long story a little bit shorter, prep work for the new bridge necessitated a bunch 'o processes, including three extractions, some gum surgery, stitches, four implants-- and a partridge in a pear tree. Spent 5 hours with the dentist chair on Thursday. Seems my body burns through anesthesia rapidly, so I maxed out on the dosage when they still had some work to do. Just let me say God bless Vicodin. And props to Dr. Kim and Dr. Patel for being very skilled and super nice people as well.

Although I had planned to work from home on Friday, I was in no condition to do so, so I spent the day watching CNN and Toddlers and Tiaras, taking my meds and gumming down a little bit of low fat yogurt here and there. Who needs Jenny Craig? Mouth from hell is keeping me away from the Swedish fish and Hershey bars quite sufficiently, thank you very much.

This morning I was scheduled to run Champions 5K at Montrose. The oral surgeon told me not to run til 48 hours after the process, but we had been looking forward to this race for months. Plus, my running has been in the toilet for a long time and I wanted to prove something to myself. I needed to convince myself that I still had the guts to suck it up, to break free of my comfort zone and to not take the easy way out. I fully intended to walk the race, but to participate nonetheless.

John was supposed to go, but he messed up his schedule and had to work (a long story, let's just say he's in the doghouse right now), so Teresa, Mike and Denise picked me up. It was a humid day, raining, but not super hot. I started out at a slow trot and felt pretty good. So I kept going. I promised myself I'd walk if I felt any extreme pain or had any bleeding. But I didn't. So I kept going. Did the first mile in just under 10 minutes, then was able to keep a steady 11 minute mile pace for the last few miles. Came in at 33:58. Nowhere near speedy, but on this day, at that moment, I gave it everything I had. I'm more proud of this race than I am of the few sub-30 minute efforts I've had. I did what I set out to do and it felt awesome. Congratulatory kisses (albeit gentle ones to not hurt me) from my Reindears was icing on the cake.

Afterwards, there were scrambled eggs, sausage and beer for the race participants so we relaxed and enjoyed the morning. Teresa took first in her age group and Denise took second-- as always, they're supreme athletes. Mike ran using John's bib and, although he doesn't race much (the guy was wearing two t-shirts and cargo shorts!) he also had a successful outing. We had a lot to be happy about. Good times, good friends, good feelings.

Came home, took a shower and by then my mouth was starting to protest a bit. Laid down for about 15 minutes, grabbed some lunch with John, then hopped on the El to meet Candace and Cheri for Retro on Roscoe festival. The trains were late and I was starting to feel sick and irritable, but by the time we got there, the Vicodin was kicking in (I didn't take any this morning because I didn't want to run with it in my system). I hadn't seen Cheri in about five years so it was great to catch up. She's a free spirit and I enjoy her company so much. And Candace-- she is a joy. We perused the shopping opportunities and caught a little bit of a Beatles cover band called Modern English, then the highlight of the festival for me was introducing my friends to 7th Heaven (including the routine guitar pick dropped in my beer from Richie). Couldn't have been more perfect.

It's only 9:00 but I think I'm headed to bed. Can't smile very well because the inside of my mouth is a war zone, but I'm smiling on the inside.

on the death of books

2011-07-19T20:11:00.004-05:00

I had a conversation with a friend today and she was lamenting the passing of Borders bookstore. It made me think a little bit about technology. I have a Kindle and I love it. I've always been an instant gratification kind of person, and I love the fact that I can think of a book (or see an article about one, or hear about one through a friend) and have it two seconds later. I love the ease of being able to carry multiple books with me-- and the fact that I don't have to buy yet another build-it-yourself bookshelf from IKEA. I love being able to underline passages that resonate with me and then posting them on Facebook. I love that some nameless entity in cyberspace can tell me what books I might enjoy based on what I've read in the past.

But I also love browsing in a bookstore. The smell of old books on a shelf in the library. Buying bookmarks with little tassles that the cats would eat the very next day. The physicality of turning a page. Getting up extra early for work so I would have time to go to the bookstore the day of the release to purchase the latest Stephen King novel. Bookstores employ people who can tell you, "No, we don't have that in stock, but our store in Skokie does. Can I order it for you?" Or, there's nothing like scanning the shelves alphabetically by author and feeling the thrill of, yes, they have a copy of a book I've looked in seven bookstores for. Sitting down at the cafe with a milkshake and leisurely looking through a stack of magazines that I have no intention on buying.

I speculated to my friend today that within five years, bookstores may be a rarity. I hope that I'm wrong and that bricks and mortar and vapor can find a way to exist in harmony. Because I need and enjoy both.

It's been a long freakin' time!

2011-07-09T10:33:00.003-05:00

A lot has happened since I last posted in, what, March? Let's see.... the foot injury has thankfully healed and although I've been struggling to maintain consistency in my running, I have done a few races-- Shamrock Shuffle (in the cast!), Soldier Field 10 Miler (first time for John!), Girls on the Run 5K (always heartwarming). Also have been incorporating some more diverse cross training into my routine-- bellydancing, yoga, joining the gym at work to ride the bike and do weights at lunchtime. I'll find my groove one of these days.

Meanwhile, summer is here along with all the excitement that comes with it... trips to Great America (the new additions to the water park are fantastic), annual 4th of July celebration at Great Lakes Naval Base with family, many many summer fests and 7th Heaven concerts (their new cd will be out in a few weeks).

Work's been busy, but I continue to enjoy the good-hearted people I work with. Recently we added two new folks to our CRM team-- Jason and Yvette, who are both stellar and make my workload so much more bearable. I've cried with a friend who lost her job and celebrated with three others who got new jobs.

My Boston Bruins have won the Stanley Cup for the first time since 1972. I still am amazed to write those words. A high point in my life for sure.

I'm getting back to painting at long last. Took a watercolor class which has re-energized me about a medium I haven't used consistently since college. Just started an acrylic painting that I'm very, very excited about and is coming together nicely (shhhh... can't elaborate about it right now because it's kind of a suprise for someone).

Now that hockey season is over, I've been reading much more and will return to book club this month. I've also been thinking a lot about writing, mostly because I've been inspired by some first-class writers I call friends who have recently reached milestones in their journeys. I'll start small with recommitting to this blog, then we'll see where that takes me.

Life is rich and varied and I'm very much enjoying the ride.

partner in pain

2011-03-27T15:28:00.017-05:00

It's funny how you find inspiration in places you'd never expect. Last night I went to the 7th Heaven show at the Lodge in Lisle to cut loose, dance (best I could in a cast) and enjoy the sights and sounds of my favorite local band. I wanted to forget about my stupid broken foot and all of the disappoinment I've been feeling lately about not running. I was looking for escapism, nothing more.

[Some background - I've been to more 7th Heaven shows than I can count. The band, in addition to being very talented (and super hot!) are unpretentious, laid-back guys who get to know their followers and allow us to get to know them. I've had the pleasure of meeting and talking extensively to each one of them.

Mark Kennetz is the bass player of the band. I had my picture taken with him on New Year's Eve 2010 (above).

In addition to being an amazing musician, Mark is an accomplished athlete-- rollerblader, roller hockey player, runner. He dazzles the fans with his Gumby-like contortionist moves on the stage. The picture above doesn't even come close to showing his extremes.]

I'm Facebook friends with all of the band members, so I knew that Mark had surgery on his knee this past Tuesday. But in the midst of feeling sorry for myself, I had forgotten. Then I saw him limp onto stage in a cast (the granddaddy version of my own-- see above) and stand next to a stool to play and sing. Only 4 days post-op. Here's a guy who-- like me-- has been restricted by injury from fully experiencing the physicality that he loves. I admit that my vision is usually zeroed in on Nick, but last night my attention was focused on Mark. I watched him perform despite all of the discomfort and disappoinment he must have been feeling. And he did it with a smile and a sense of palpable joy. Everyone's injury is unique and personal and you shouldn't compare, but seeing his energy made me feel ashamed of my own pessimism-- hell, I haven't even had surgery and my cast is much less unwieldy than his. His example moved me and gave me a new burst of optimism and hope. If he can embrace his injury with a spirit of acceptance, there's no reason that I can't do the same.

I felt so much appreciation for him inadvertently communicating this message of strength to me that I sent him a message after the show (I wanted to talk with him in person but it was very crowded there). I told him how his courage gave me courage and I thanked him for inspiring me. His message back is as follows:

Awwwww thx sweetie:) thats how i roll, it was a bit weird from a stool but im very motivated to get better and be out of gimp status asap :) sees ya soon :) good luck with ur foot :) as Yoda would say "may the force be with you!" ;)

I needed that reminder at that moment that motivation is key. May the force be with you, too, Mark. Rock on!!!

what sustains me

2011-03-13T20:54:00.002-05:00

Timing is everything. There's never a good time for a runner to sustain an injury, but some times are worse than others. Now is one of the worst times. I had just been getting back into the groove of training in eager anticipation of some marquee races coming up over the next few months. But for the past several weeks, I've been having intermittent pain along my left ankle/foot area. Finally, it got the the point where I could no longerignore it. An xray at John's office revealed a bone spur. In order to get a closer look, he ordered an MRI. I almost cancelled the appointment because just a few days before the scheduled test I ran a fast three miles without incident.

The MRI was Thursday night and by Friday I could hardly walk because the pain was so intense. The original problem was flaring up and now I was also experiencing a cramping pain along the outer edge of my foot. After work, we drove straight to John's office for cortisone injections and a removable walking cast.

I was inconsolable. I spent the entire day in bed on Saturday, exhausted and hurting-- both physically and emotionally. Forget about running. I could hardly move my foot without the support of the ungainly cast.

My gloom persisted this morning. To get my mind off things, John forced me out of the house for breakfast and a few errands. Came home and turned to my iPod for comfort... listened to Godhead and Avenged Sevenfold-- loud, angry music to drown out the feelings of sadness and disappointment. It's not fair. It sucks. I'm extremely uncomfortable.

Fuck it. I can only take so much drama from myself before I start to get annoyed with the person in the mirror. How dare I bitch and moan when the tv is filled with images from Japan? My stupid foot problem? Trivial. Then I started to think about the bright shining examples of courage that are right in front of me every day. Sara-- who sustained a near disastrous fall that left her with a severe head injury and broken back. She came back from those serious injuries to run the Boston Marathon (with a broken toe) a year or so afterwards. Bonnie-- who survived breast cancer and became a triathlete. Sue-- who had a brain anuryism and also recovered with grace and dignity to once again start biking, swimming and running. Once again-- my stupid foot problems, compared to what they overcame? Trivial. So trivial.

Right now I'll throw out the soggy kleenexes, swallow a couple of Advil and face a brand new week tomorrow. I know I'll have bouts of sadness and uncertainty during the healing process. But I'll have just as many moments of strength and recovery. Sure, I may miss a few races, but don't count me out yet.

renewal

2011-03-05T09:27:00.002-06:00

I love to paint but I'm lazy about it. Sometimes I paint only in my head. That's why it's good every once in a while to go back to the source and to use it as an impetus to get mind images onto the canvas. The source for me is the people who have mentored me throughout the years.

Last night John and I went to Linda Warren Gallery in the West Loop to see the opening reception for two shows-- Loretta Bourque: Charades and Rob Bondgren: All That Glitters. I know both artists personally and they have been very instrumental in my development as a painter. In fact, Loretta was my advisor when I was in the Certificate in Painting Program at SAIC and Rob was the one who introduced us. To quote from the show's website, "these artists... look to the human body to explore ideas surrounding identity and how we as a society and culture give expression to passion, obsession and desire." Check it out for yourself at www.lindawarrengallery.com.

It was a miserable rainy night but the show was packed. Loretta's from New Orleans and, with the upcoming holiday, there was a Mardi Gras theme. There were beads galore, wine and punch and gumbo. The infectiousness of cajun culture prevailed and the atmosphere was celebratory and alive.

I admire Rob and Loretta so much. Their use of the human form, technical perfection, mastery of color and flamboyance resonate with me. I took it all in with much enthusiasm. In front of one of Loretta's paintings, John said to me, "it's easy to tell how much she's influenced you."

So I came home from the show with a symphony of images and ideas in my head. The spark had been lit, as I had hoped it would be. I woke up this morning with even more concepts percolating within; ideas for two distinct series are developing and I'm eager to do some preliminary sketches. I am ready to take it to fruition. I've gathered some images and will once again drag out gesso, canvas, paper, brushes, paint. The show was exactly what I needed.

Hockey Weekend in America

2011-02-18T15:57:00.004-06:00

Anyone who knows me knows just how passionate I am about hockey. I know I've waxed poetic about it numerous times (most recently, perhaps, when the Hawks won the Stanley Cup). Hockey's been a constant in my life, from my earliest memories onward.

Growing up, my dad and grandfather were ice fishermen and they took me and my sister Dawn with them to various woodland ponds in Massachusetts. We skated as soon as we could walk. And we always had our own rink in the backyard, oftentimes in space appropriated from the spring/summer garden area. Spotlights enabled us to skate well into the night.

My grandfather was a big hockey fan. So was my childhood babysitter, Mary. Even though we had a 70's era "rec room" with a big color TV, for some reason my routine was to drag my tiny black and white portable from my bedroom to the kitchen table and watch it there. I was a painstaking scorekeeper... writing in a little notebook all of the goals, assists, penalties and commentary. I kept a scrapbook of newspaper clippings that my Grammy would send me from the Worcester, MA Gazette. She did this til the day she died, even though I was out of college and married then.

After moving to Pennsylvania, I decided for the first time to play organized hockey and was very lucky to have a wonderful mother who was willing to indulge and spent countless hours shuttling me back and forth to games and practice. Back in the late 70's, there were no such thing as girls' leagues in Johnstown, PA, so I was the first (and only) female player in the organization at the time. I wasn't a great player... hell, I wasn't even a good player, but I could skate fairly well and I just adored the feeling of donning the equipment and playing the game I loved.

In high school, I followed both the Penguins and the Bruins, but my main love was the Bruins. As a teenage girl, my main love was also BOYS. I saw rookie Al Secord and it was LOVE. Although I had never done this before in my life, I wrote a fan letter to him and not only did he send me an autographed picture, he also sent me a handwritten letter telling me that I was the first fan to ever write to him. I still have it. Back in the day, you could go right up to where the players exited the arena in Pittsburgh, so I had the added joy of talking to him several times after games (and Gerry Cheevers, Ray Bourque, so on...). Later, Al Secord came here to Chicago and played for the Blackhawks, the Chicago Cheetahs (roller hockey-- what fun) and the Chicago Wolves, so my "relationship" with him continued until his retirement from the sport.

I remember going to Blackhawks games in the old Chicago Stadium, when the neighborhood was iffy and the rink itself was ancient and loud. I remember the lean days for the Hawks, when you could walk up to the ticket window ten minutes before the game and buy any seat in the house. I was there for the inaugural season of the Chicago Wolves minor league hockey team and I saw their first Cup win. I've witnessed hockey's gorious resurgence in Chicago-- Kane and Toews, welcoming back Mikita and Hull. 2010 Stanley Cup.

It's been great. It IS great.

embracing imperfection

2011-01-18T21:54:00.007-06:00

Someone once told me that the worst critic we have is the one inside ourself. For me this is very true. I try to keep ahead of that voice but there are days when it screams harshly at me and drowns out any positive thought I can throw at it. Without the impetus of outside factors I strain for that ever-elusive ideal called Perfection. Yes, I know it is unobtainable. Not just for me, but for everyone.

I wish I how to shut the door for good on that quest for an impossible standard. I want to be able to give myself permission to accept my imperfection. To not see it as failure but as an unavoidable part of the human condition.

Perfection. What a waste of time. In looking for something that doesn't exist, I miss the here and now. I lose the moment. I deny what it is that makes me the person that I am.

So, instead of chasing something that contradicts reality, I need to focus my energies on a full immersion in the moment-- every moment. The joy of running a mile. Hugging a pet. Reading a good book. Drinking a Diet Pepsi. Talking on the phone to a friend for hours on end. Because that's where true happiness lives.

Suellen

2010-12-10T13:14:00.005-06:00

(in photo above - me (lower), Suellen (middle), Susan (top))

Very early this morning, one of my dearest friends was called to her final rest. I write this through a veil of tears.

I met Suellen about twenty years ago while we were both working for Sonnenschein. Our mutual love of books was what brought us together. Once a week for years and years, we'd go to lunch together at Mrs. Levy's in the Sears Tower. Suellen was a creature of routine so the day, time and restaurant never varied. Most times, our food selections didn't either. As is common with old friends, we grew to know (very well) each other's likes and dislikes. That is why, when my salad arrived, Suellen would wordlessly pluck the freaky baby corn and water chestnuts off my plate and deposit them on her own.

We talked about our lives-- families, friends, day-to-day happenings, work, politics, and of course books. There was nothing I couldn't tell Suellen. She personified comfort and practicality, reason and compassion. I had another friend, David, who I'd frequently squabble with. Suellen knew us both and would frequently act as a peacemaker. She drew people together with grace and confidence. That's who she was.

Through her influence, I joined American Association of University Women (AAUW) book club and attended the monthly meetings. Some members of the group met for dinner beforehand at Jury's. Suellen memorized everyone's dinner order and took great delight in reciting them to the waiter. She did the math and figured out the check for us. Every time. At book club, she was more important to us than the books. It was because of her that I was exposed to many of the books that I now treasure as favorites. The shining example of this is Endurance by Alfred Lansing. Everyone who knew Suellen read Shackleton. It was one of her favorites and I remember her coming to book club for that discussion accompanied by a piece of string. She measured it out to be the exact length of Shackleton's boat so that she could demonstrate their dire accomodations to us. She led us. She educated us. She was a walking encyclopedia.

Another great passion of Suellen's was baking. Once, we had a colleague at work who was one of those annoying 20-something's who was all puffed up with her own self-importance and was very vain about her looks. Suellen frequently brought homemade baked goods to work and watched with glee as this woman just couldn't resist the temptation of shortbread. The scheme later became fondly known as "The Plumping."

I was the one who introduced Suellen to the Wii. Shortly after we got ours, we had Bob and Suellen over. After going to dinner at Leona's, we played several games of Wii bowling. Suellen was hooked. So much so that she and Bob went out the very next day and got their own game. During one of our bowling matches, Suellen mistakenly threw the ball backwards and made all of the avatars jump in alarm. The four of us laughed so hard that tears ran down our cheeks.

When I lost my job at NGE, Suellen was the first person I called. She was my go-to person, the one I thought of first when I needed consolation. As I said before, Suellen was comfort. She was an anchor of calmness and sensibility no matter what the circumstances. She had an uncanny ability to take care of people-- not in a showy way; she knew what you needed before you did, and she did it for you. Pure and simple. We had countless lunches at Leona's, California Pizza Kitchen, Famous Dave's etc. during my summer of unemployment. Just being with her made me feel better. She was that important.

I can go on and on about the good moments we shared-- her tiny, childlike hands. Her pearls. Her sensible Land's End wardrobe. Lawrence of Arabia. The Volvo. Cubs. Waveland and Kitty in a Big Boy Suit. Her love of naps. Kindle and iPad. Amazon.com. Her list-keeping and note-taking perfection. The look of revulsion she gave me when I got my belly button pierced. That amazing grin and laugh that she had. These memories will sustain me in the days that come.

So on Monday night I said goodbye to her in a tiny ICU room in Our Lady of Resurrection Medical Center in Wrigleyville. I was blessed to have one last chance to hold her hand, kiss her, tell her how much I care about her.

SJM, I cherish you. My life is better because you were in it. I love you more than words can express.

fine dining

2010-11-05T19:46:00.010-05:00

Lately we've been driving home from work down Randolph Street, by all of the trendy restaurants in the West Loop. Today I said to John, "we should do 'New Restaurant Friday' and try some of these places." Being an instant gratification and spontaneous kind of gal, I meant we should try them NOW! John mentioned that he heard that one sixtyblue had great mashed potatoes. Cool! Comfort food! Sign me up.

Those of you who know me know that although I do eat Moroccan food, Indian food and I have been to a sushi restaurant (thanks Bonnie, Kat and Robin), overall I'm not a very adventurous eater.

The first look at the menu raised a huge red flag. There were only about 8 or 9 choices-- not a ginormous greasy booklet like at Cheesecake Factory. None of them Linda-friendly. No Happy Meals. No mozarella sticks. The descriptions included words only heard on Top Chef-- blah blah duck, blah blah something octopus, blah blah pigs feet. This ain't a restaurant, this is a trip to the petting zoo-- or Shedd Aquarium. I won't even talk about the prices. I like to spend money on lots of stupid stuff, but not on freaky food. Suffice it to say that for the amount of money it cost, I could go to Arby's every day for the remainder of the calendar year.

I decided to go with something that had the least amount of objectionable ingredients-- some kind of squash ravioli. When the plate arrived, there was some sort of hair-like thing on top of the pasta and I had a decidedly Clarence Thomas kind of moment. Not to mention that there were gross mushrooms and some slimy looking green stuff-- comparable to what floats in John's pond during an algae bloom-- underneath. My beloved spouse was chuckling audibly by now. Much to my surprise, though, the raviolis weren't half bad and I was able to choke most of them down. And the dessert was quite delicious-- pumpkin s'mores with homemade marshmallows and John had some sort of chocolate thing with banana ice cream.

I have to admit it was nice to do something different. Keeps life exciting. But next time, point me in the direction of the food court.

completely stream of consciousness random thoughts...

2010-11-02T18:16:00.004-05:00

* Sisterhood and brotherhood have less to do with blood and more to do with a deeply shared connection based on love, loyalty, trust and respect.

* Everyone praises Reeses peanut butter cups and Snickers, but I'm of the opinion that banana flavored Laffy Taffy is the Forgotten Candy.

* I have at least 2-3 pairs of shoes in my closet that go with absolutely nothing I own. But I still can't get rid of them.

* Growing out a layered haircut is more challenging than climbing Mount Everest.

* I really like the fact that I have no idea what my cats REALLY do when we're not home. Probably sleep. But maybe not...

* Election night is exciting.

* People who are "different" are the most fascinating people around.

to thine own self be true

2010-10-09T21:35:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow is the Chicago Marathon. A race that I was scheduled to run. On Friday morning, I made the final decision to not run it.

Overall, I've had a positive training experience over the past few months. My 18 mile long run on September 11th in the midst of constant rain was a triumph for me. I felt strong throughout. My 16 miler on September 4th was even better. Of course, I had a few stinkers too. My 20 miler on September 17th on a sunny 70 degree day was a struggle, painful and slow. A half marathon on August 1st was even worse. I felt queasy and lethargic throughout, to the point of almost dropping out of the race at 5.5 miles. That day was 77 degrees.

The thread of commonality running through most of my less than stellar efforts is the weather. I'm not a warm weather runner-- especially for longer distances. I overheat very easily and my potassium levels are something that I have to pay close attention to (even though I've been on supplements since my trip to the emergency room for this problem at a race a few years ago). I admit to being very afraid of negative health consequences of running in the heat. To add to that, after not working for five months, I'm scheduled to start a new job the day after the marathon.

So when I noticed the forecasted temperatures creeping steadily upward for 10-10-10, I felt tentative. I fought the feeling, trying to rally my confidence. The pendulum swung for me between optimism and despair. Then, on Friday morning my gut told me firmly and completely to back out.

The hardest thing about the decision was telling the people who had offered me so much encouragement throughout my training process. I didn't want them to be disappointed in me or think of me as a coward. It was especially brutal to tell Teresa. She, above everyone, has been my stalwart supporter. The one who I go to for advice and who has stood by me through all of my good races and bad. She was there crying for me when I was loaded into an ambulance after a half marathon. She was also there with me when I ran all of my personal bests.

So I told her. There was no hesitation in her voice when she said to me, "that's all right. I'm proud of you." Although one or two people have voiced differing levels of negative judgement about my decision, I'm touched by the fact that once again the majority of my friends and family have been overwhelmingly supportive.

Tonight, even though I know I made the right decision for me, I'm a little sad. But the alarm clock is set for 7 a.m. tomorrow morning. I'm going to be on the sidelines cheering my heart out for Teresa and all of the other rock stars who will be running 10-10-10. I'll hop onto the course and run a bit with my soul sister. Then I'll look at race schedules and decide on a shorter distance to do before the end of the month. After all, part of courage is knowing your limitations and doing your best within them. Running's not over for me. A new chapter is beginning. I know it will bring me joy.

to give thanks

2010-09-30T21:41:00.006-05:00

Marathon Sunday is rapidly approaching and I have been very reflective lately. Training for the race is in some regards more mental than physical. I've had a rough go of it lately and it's taken a toll on my concentration and confidence-- both of which are essential for running effectively.

I am blessed with countless friends and family members who have given me love and support. But there are five very special fellow runners who, whether they know it or not, have consistently lifted me out of a dark place and who I think of when I need inspiration to run. So I decided to take them with me on the 26.2 mile journey I'll tackle on 10-10-10.

The pictures above show a heart logo that I crafted to wear on my running shirt on race day. On the back of the logo, I've listed these five amazing individuals. Along with their names, I mention the attributes that I think of most often in association with that person. In this small way, I hope to honor them for all that they've given me. In the week before the race, I plan on sending each of them a personal e-mail to better put into words my feelings about what they mean to me and my running.

Thank you, Bonnie, Sara, Sue, Teresa and Vince. I look forward to running with you.

there goes the neighborhood

2010-09-12T19:01:00.003-05:00

Our annual townhouse association picnic is always a bit like falling through the rabbit hole. The people, the food and the conversations are always a bit unusual. Here are some snippets:

* A neighbor sat down next to me and I asked, "how are you?" What followed was a 20-minute discourse about her wicked case of the shingles as another neighbor lifted his shirt to show scars from his case of the shingles; then it somehow turned into a conversation about bowel obstruction.

* The DJ was a little girl about 6 years old who manned a portable CD player. When was the last time you heard the song "Purple People Eater"? For me, tonight.

* There were no potato chips. How is it possible that no one brought potato chips to a picnic?!? But we had about 4 different types of bratwurst. Go figure.

* The fact that we live very near a university really hit home to me when a neighbor (an ex-professor) said to me, "you haven't lived until you understand thermodynamics." Hmmm... guess I'm not alive.

* In my opinion, the best dish was not the burgers or potato salad or cole slaw or cupcakes or watermelon.... it was some unusual Asian dish that looked like spaghetti and had a real kick to it.

hearts wide open

2010-09-07T10:53:00.002-05:00

It's really easy for me to feel despair about the state of the world today. All around are examples of humankind's inhumanity. A preacher advocating the burning of the Quran to "honor" 9/11. A superstar athlete lying to his wife in order to feed his ego with a sequence of women. A father calling his child a "sissy" because the kid wouldn't go on a ride at Great America. My own feelings of impatience and self-pity.

Then every so often I see something unbelievably kind. Yesterday we went to the 7th Heaven concert at Castaways on North Avenue Beach. The venue is a rooftop patio high above the lakefront. It's accessed by a staircase or an elevator (although the elevator was out of service yesterday). During the show, two members of the band (Keith Semple and Nick Cox) heard of a girl in a wheelchair and her friends who wanted to see the show but couldn't because of the elevator issues. Instead, they were stationed on the path below, happy to just listen to the music.

Before one of the final songs, they acknowledged "Sara" and said they wanted to dedicate the next song to her. They exhorted the crowd to follow them as they moved the show to a lower patio area-- an area in the direct line of sight of the wheelchair-bound girl and her group on the beach.

The radiant joy on her face as Keith and Nick sang to her is something I'll remember for a very long time. It was a classy, very emotional moment. As I looked at the other fans around me, there were plenty of teary eyes. I was struck by how such a simple gesture from two very fortunate but humble men had the power to transform a girl's afternoon into something special. Truly amazing.

out of the darkness

2010-09-02T16:49:00.002-05:00

Week 2 of mentoring is drawing to a close. My student and I talk often and e-mail even more and I'm starting to form a solid bond with her. She's joyful and takes pleasure in simple things, such as a board game and fried chicken with some friends. She has deep values and a sense of direction for the future and I revel in that.

She recently celebrated her birthday and I sent her an online musical card. Took me all of five minutes. It's something I do very often for various friends and acquaintances and I get just as many in return. It's a small thing, really, not worthy of much notice. So I was totally unprepared and completely blown away by her e-mail response to it:

Thank you soooooo much for that birthday greet card i loved it. I was dancing to the music and smiling when the computer screen said click here!!!! That was awesome i showed alot of the students, and Mr. W he said thats cool no one sent him one i think he's very jealous. If you could see my face i would sooooo be smiling right now but once again thank you from the bottom of my heart....

I can't remember a paycheck ever feeling that good to me.

But today I got word that yet another young person affiliated with Gage Park High School has lost his life to gunfire on the violent streets of the inner city. Although I always feel sadness at the tragic loss of someone who has barely had time to live, I admit that now it is more profound for me. These are the streets that my student has to navigate every day. These are the funerals she attends with way too much regularity for a 16-year-old.

Sobering. Makes me very sad.

another world

2010-08-21T20:14:00.003-05:00

On Thursday night, I went to the "meet and greet" for my mentor program with Open Books. It's probably not cool to mention the name of my student, so I won't. But the name of the high school affiliated with our VWrite program is probably public knowledge, so it can't hurt to mention it. It's Gage Park High School. The scene of two shootings in a two week time period. Some thoughts about my experience there:

1) I was a bit apprehensive about going into such a "danger zone." Then I realized that I was there for all of two hours, walking a scant distance between teacher parking lot and school door. The student that I'm mentoring walks 15 minutes in that same "danger zone" two times a day, to school and home. EVERY day. Wow.

2) My student is quite a fashionista. And I'm already proud of that.

3) My student is really, really into basketball. I know almost nothing about it. Gonna have to educate myself in this area to faciliate our communications and to try to form a bond. So who is really "mentoring" who?

4) When I was 16, I was primarily interested in walking the halls of Bishop Carroll, forever on the lookout for the boy (or male teacher) who was my crush for the week. College? Yeah, I had to go, but it seemed so, well, distant. My student has been devoting her free time to looking at college websites since her freshman year of high school. Wow again.

Overall, I'm filled with a sense of optimism and promise. And the realization that I stand to learn as much (or more) from my student than she will from me.

my friends are really cool people

2010-08-18T01:03:00.002-05:00

Sometimes when I can't sleep (often), I try to engage my mind with positive thoughts, rather than incessant clock-watching. Tonight I'm reviewing yesterday's interaction with some of my friends who make my life so rich and varied.

I love blogs and one of the most talented bloggers I know is my friend Aidan. I've known him for years; he's one of my knitting buddies. He's a master of complex lace shawl patterns that are the envy of all of us. Aidan's a foodie who can wax poetic about almost any cuisine and can cook just as many. Like a court jester, his dancing eyes and funny stories-- made even better by his flawless delivery-- make him a joy to be around. Being with Aidan is a laugh a second, guaranteed. He's also responsible for pointing me in the direction of one of the best books I've ever read-- A Prayer for Owen Meany. If Aidan suggests it, there's an excellent chance that I'll read it.

Nick shares my love of running. He's about a million feet tall with a gangling gait and a smile as wide as Lake Michigan. Although he's a gifted runner, he's never arrogant about it and is always ready with a word of encouragement and support for his less than talented co-athletes-- namely, me. Like Aidan, one of Nick's biggest gifts is his sense of humor and his boundless creativity. Lately he's been filming a multi-episode parody of Transformers 3 featuring a styrofoam robot and other office supply "weapons" he crafted in his office. It's just hilarious-- I watch it over and over. He also is a talented photographer, mostly of Chicago scenes he captures while out on his bike.

Veronica is a person that I can (and do) talk endlessly with. Our phone conversations can be measured in hours, not minutes. She shares my love of reading and I can always count on her to keep me updated on what's going on in the world of celebrity and reality television. I so admire her sense of adventure and her willingless to be open to new experiences. She's a genuine friend with a positive attitude and a flair for the dramatic. Wise beyond her years. I've leaned on her more times than I can count.

With that, I think I'll head back to bed and see if I can finally catch some sleep.

what Wednesday afternoon looks like

2010-08-11T12:50:00.002-05:00

I'm sprawled on the couch in the living room. Muted summer sunshine is dancing through the slats in the vertical blinds. There's an insectile hum coming from the backyard along with the distant sounds of the neighbors talking in Punjabi. Jessica sits on my lap, her furry cat-chin nuzzled against my bare thigh. Lunch was a bologna sandwich with muenster cheese, pickles and golden mustard. A sweating can of crisp diet pepsi sipped through a straw. I'm reading the last few pages of Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster-- I'm discussion leader at book club later this month and I want the story fresh in my mind.

I miss my job. I miss the rhythmic click-click of computer keys as I run a SQL query. I miss inane elevator conversation. I miss wearing perfume every day and losing my key card several times a week. I miss the security of a paycheck and the anticipatory buzz one gets from a trip to Nordstrom.

After I finish reading, I'm going to fold laundry while tuning into CNN for background noise. I'll gather up the beach towels and decide which bikini to wear to Great America tomorrow. After my food settles, I'll pound out a 5-mile run, using "10-10-10" as my mantra. I'll go downstairs and make some greeting cards while listening to cheesy 80's music. Later tonight, I'll watch the intellectually devoid yet oddly captivating offerings on Bravo-- Top Chef and Work of Art. I'll call my mom to see if her summer cold is better. I'll paint my toenails-- probably orange.

When you don't have the routine of a 9-5 job, you find other ways to compile a to-do list, and more importantly, to act upon it. The pressures of deadlines and impatient bosses are replaced by the persistence of your own thoughts. It's easy to feel irrelevant.

But when I look across the room and see the family pictures on the entertainment center, hear the cat purr while twitching her ears, feel the easy comfort of the pillow against my back, I realize that my days can be satisfying in their simplicity. Without new earrings. Without the phone ringing constantly. Without overpriced lunches in the Loop. Although seemingly elusive, hope and possibility are everywhere. Even in this room with me right now. Living in the moment on this Wednesday afternoon really isn't a terrible place to be.

fear

2010-08-02T19:16:00.005-05:00

Why is it that negative experiences often have much more power than positive experiences over our thoughts and memory? I had a bad race yesterday and I'm having a hard time shaking it.

True, I have been having foot issues lately that have impacted my training. But I successfully completed my last long run and had a new PR in my last 5K. I had every reason to feel positive going into the Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon.

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. for the race and felt queasy. That's normal for me. I'm a worrier and I haven't run a half marathon in two years. I get sick to my stomach before every race, even 5Ks. Once I toe the line I'm okay. Not this time. Since it was a large race (over 25,000 runners, I believe), it was a wave start and I didn't cross the line for a long while. I dutifully hit the button on my Garmin to time myself. A new PR is always a goal and despite my bad feelings, I was going to try for it.

The first couple of miles were uneventful. But almost right away I noticed that the Garmin wasn't cooperating. I haven't used it in a while so I had forgotten that for some reason (I think a pace setting), it sometimes pauses . Plus, running through underground tunnels messes up the signal. Time matters-- keeping track of my pace gives me a sense of motivation and a barometer of my performance. Without an accurate gauge I was feeling lost.

The stomach discomfort was not going away. The humidity was building. I felt very off. I left my iPod at home because I wanted to take in the bands stationed along the course. But the music was too short-lived and the tunes in my head were dirges. I felt a little spark of energy around mile 4 when we passed Old St. Pat's and saw the Irish dancers. But by mile 5 my despair returned. John yelled to me from the crowd on Michigan Avenue by the lions at The Art Institute. I knew I did not look good. In addition to the nausea, fatigue, humidity and low morale, my left foot-- my good foot-- was starting to cramp up. At this time I slowed to almost a stop and seriously considered bailing on the race. Walking off the course. Quitting. I honestly don't know why I didn't.

I told myself "just make it to the halfway point"-- so I kept going. Miles 6-9 felt a little bit better. I was walking a lot, but when I ran, I felt like my pace was steady and true. I passed people who were seeded before me. My faulty Garmin told me that I was doing okay. I knew it was wrong, but I thought maybe-- just maybe-- my running intervals were fast enough and that I was "borrowing" time. Just shortly after mile 9, I overheard other runners complaining of nausea and I saw a gal passed out on the side of the course. That made my own feelings of illness once again bubble to the surface.

I walked even more, thinking I'd run the last mile. But by the time I got to the last mile, I was so miserable that I just didn't care. I half-heartedly jogged the last quarter of a mile or so. I felt no sense of accomplishment when I crossed the finish line, only relief that it was over. When I saw John and Teresa just past the finish line, I could tell by the look of horror on Teresa's face that she could readily see my distress. I grabbed my medal with an overwhelming thought of "I have to get out of here." I was starting to panic a bit. I was overheated, dizzy, weak. All I could think about was my ambulance trip for irregular heartbeat a few years ago and I was very fearful that history was repeating itself.

John and Teresa helped me to the car. I carry potassium with me just in case so I took it. I was getting better a little bit at a time so I swallowed my apprehension, walked slowly and we made it home. I tried to eat something knowing that my electrolytes were out of balance but I couldn't choke it down. So I went to bed and stayed there for the rest of the day. Disappointment, meet sickness.

Later in the afternoon I went online and looked up my time, expecting a bad result. I came in at 2:46:53. About 6 minutes slower than the PR I wanted so badly to break. Thirty seconds or so per mile. Considering how much I walked, it meant that my actual running speed was pretty decent. Small comfort though.

I called my mom and she said, "that's great-- I'm so very proud of you." Dear mom. Teresa has been incessant with her encouragement, concern and kindness. I rested and recuperated today. I need to get back out there tomorrow and run 5 miles. I admit that I'm afraid. But giving into that fear means giving up something I love to do. And that's even scarier.

there are perfect days

2010-07-27T13:17:00.003-05:00

Every now and then, there's a day that defies negativity. A day so perfect that it couldn't have been scripted better.

I got up on Sunday at 6:00 a.m. to head to Montrose Harbor for Teb's Troops 5K. This is a race benefitting melanoma research; I run it every year. One of the sponsors is my old firm. I was a bit apprehensive about seeing people that I might not want to see again, but my reasons for running the race outweighed any of those thoughts. When we left the house and as we were navigating all of the circuitousness caused by the filming of Transformers 3, the sun was shining. But as we arrived at the race site, a weird, chilly fog had rolled in. PERFECT! I love to run in cool, overcast conditions. We found Teresa and another friend (Michelle) almost immediately and hung around with them til race time. As is my usual routine, I turned to Coach T for a little pep talk. This time she used snack food as a motivation-- "think of all the junk we can eat after we run!"

I typically know as soon as soon as I hear the starting horn whether or not I'm going to have a good race. I was worried about the foot problems that have been bothering me. Still, I knew that the weather was a gift that rarely appears in late July and I wanted to seize the opportunity and put my best effort out there. Leave it all on the course as I paid homage to the gorgeous lakefront directly beside me. I ran with a determination that sometimes eludes me. When I wanted to slow down, I didn't. Approaching the finish line, I saw T dangling a bag of Cheez-its at me. It's hard to cross the finish line gracefully when you're doubled over with laughter, but I did. She screamed at me, "You kicked ass!! That's a PR for you!!" She was right. It was. I came in at 28:51, which is 30 seconds faster than I've ever done that distance before. Felt fantastic.

We hung around for a while after the race to, yes, eat snacks and also to see T climb the podium as the third-place winner. She defines speed without arrogance and my heart bursted with pride for her as they announced her name.

Although the cloudy and chilly conditions were great for the race, they were less than ideal for phase two of the day-- an outing to Great America. But nevertheless, we headed in that direction after a quick stop in Skokie to change out of running clothes and into bathing suits/shorts. Just after passing the Lake Forest Oasis, the sun came out. The lines getting into the park were long but we trotted to Hurricane Harbor to establish base camp and hit the lazy river.

I like the wave pool and there's a water slide that I'll do (and one that I'm considering) but the lazy river is my mecca. After situating yourself in a donut-shaped inner tube (butt in the hole, legs and arms draped over the sides), you meander gently down the river. Around you is a concert of canned classic summer tunes (Kokomo, Margaritaville) and the screams of the brave souls on the Tornado. Every so often you pass through waterfalls or water arches. If you slip your legs down into the center of the tube and navigate you can sometimes avoid the waterfalls. Most often I "let nature take its course." It's the repetition of wet spray then the hot, drying sun that I find so satifying. It's impossible not to live in the moment.

After the park, it was back on the expressway to head to Taste of Lincoln on the city's north side. Yep, you guessed it-- a concert by 7th Heaven! This is one of the more crowded fests, but there's also a lot to see-- various t-shirt and jewelry vendors, not to mention music, food and people watching galore. We sampled some chicken and fried rice and a few cold beers and laughed at the Lincoln Park trixies who were too refined to use the porta-potties. About 20 minutes before the show, I maneuvered myself to my typical location-- right side of the stage, first row. The band is getting more and more well known and this is reflected in the crowd size. I always manage to clasp hands with Keith and exchange smiles with Mark. Glow sticks and good cheer abounded. They put on a high energy show and I danced and screamed and sang until about 10:30 p.m.

On the way home, my feet and legs were sore from the running and dancing, my hair smelled like chlorine and I was tired from all of the sun and frolic. Like I said, a perfect day.

frailty

2010-07-21T15:31:00.002-05:00

I'm a human being whose body has been cobbled together with duct tape and paper clips. Well, not really. But sort of. My nose was reconstructed out of some surgical product after I smashed it beyond repair in a car accident when I was 12. Half of my lower lip had to be reattached with stitches-- same accident. Broken right patella-- ditto. Broken left elbow-- ice skating. Extra cervical vertebrae in my neck-- genetics. Bunions the size of Texas-- genetics again, and possibly some bad shoe choices as a teenager. Slight tear to my Achilles tendon-- running. Chronic SI joint irritation in my lower back-- running, again. For the most part I've lived my life relatively unaffected by these various issues.

Except for the foot and back issues. The back made my marathon experience in 2006 a lesson in agony. Now, almost at the halfway point of training for the 2010 marathon, the bunion on my right foot is causing some discomfort because of toe misalignment. You should see the close-up view of the xray. The metatarsal bones look like a map of the San Andreas Fault during an 8.0 quake. The only sure-fire and lasting relief? Surgery. But that's not an option for me right now. I'm training for the marathon. Training with my heart and not always with my good sense.

But I'm lucky enough to have two amazing people in my life who are experienced marathoners and I've turned to both them for advice and understanding. T's my Jillian-- harsh and tough-- once or twice resorting to name-calling ("wimp," "weakling"). That sounds awful but she isn't. Sometimes I need that aggression to jar me out of complacency and to give me focus. There's a definite underlayer of love and generosity in her attention to my running. She's always there for me. No matter what. She cries when I hurt. She's joyful with me when I achieve a milestone.

Vince is a voice of reason. He's analytical and composed. He's been through the thunderstorm of injury and has come out into the clear blue sky. He improves steadily and methodically. He understands the tenuous balance between ambition and self-preservation. He can offer advice, not in the same emotional way as T does, but the advice is put out there with clarity and precision.

So that's what I have when I turn to my loved ones for help with my running--- heart and mind. Emotion and fact. And you know what? I need them both. Even when I don't want to listen to either-- ESPECIALLY when I don't want to listen to either.

Endurance

2010-07-02T12:52:00.002-05:00

There's a California Pizza Kitchen in Oak Brook. Almost 9 years ago, I had lunch there with Suellen and Susan. At the time, my life was in transition. Although I was joyful about the birth of my first nephew, Justin, I had recently quit my job in Sears Tower due to post-9/11 concerns about working in that building. It was a tumultuous time for me. I was apprehensive about the future and a meal and deep conversation with two of my very close friends soothed me.

I met both Suellen and Susan almost 20 years ago. Suellen shares my love of reading and introduced me to AAUW book club. She's very much into Shackleton; everyone who knows Suellen has read Alfred Lansing's book Endurance. It's almost mandatory. She has a matter-of-fact outlook and her calm steadiness has helped me gain perspective on my own life in many ways. One time, we were in line for an Ann Rice autograph signing and a "female moment" happened to her (the irony of blood at a vampire book event did not escape us). Not wanting her to be uncomfortable, I pondered aloud as to whether or not we should just leave. Suellen's response has stayed with me all this time... "the bad thing has already happened." Life can and does throw curveballs. All you can do is endure with as much style and grace as you can manage.

I shared my database debut with Susan. I was working as a proofreader at a law firm at the time. For some unknown reason, my boss decided that I would be a good candidate for maintaining the marketing contact database, an in-house application designed by Susan. She served as my mentor. Along the way, we became friends. She's one of the smartest people I know and although I don't see her very often, she's impacted my life in a positive way. She has a generosity of spirit that is so wonderful.

So once again the three of us found ourselves at California Pizza Kitchen in Oak Brook. My nephew Justin has just finished second grade. I've gained and lost another job. Once again, my life is at a crossroads. I am apprehensive about the future. But once again, these strong women and dedicated friends soothed me in a way that is unparalled. That's endurance.

body art, for the second year in a row...

2010-06-29T07:43:00.003-05:00

Veronica and I are making a trip to the Tattoo and Body Art Expo an annual event! This year it was at Rosemont Convention Center (near O'Hare) so it was a bit of a journey on the Blue Line. The 2010 convention was a bit smaller, but there were plenty of interesting things to see.

What I love about this event is that people are not afraid of displaying their individuality and creativity for all to see. There's a spirit of friendliness and acceptance that is quite joyful to be around. We met and talked with a bunch of fascinating people-- a man who had his entire body (sans face) tattooed (pictured above), a delightful young man from Michigan who used piercings to help him find clarity and openness in his relationships (also pictured above). I was so capivated by his looks and personality that it is highly likely he'll show up in a painting soon. We saw men and women who were unique in every way. That's so great!

I wanted a new tattoo really, really bad... but with the jobless situation right now, the timing wasn't right for that kind of investment. But Veronica got her hibiscus flower tattoo brightened up from a guy from Penitentiary Ink in Los Angeles-- it made a world of difference.

After seeing a piercing booth, I did what I normally do-- made an impulsive decision. I decided to get my belly button pierced. Well, I shouldn't really call it spur of the moment because I had been thinking about it for years, but I certainly didn't wake up Saturday morning thinking I was going to get one that day. Veronica acted as my photo documentarian and patiently took step-by-step pictures of the entire process. I was lying on the table (much like the doctor's office) so I didn't see much. The pain was intense but short-lived and surprisingly it only bled a little. I know that some of my readers are a bit squeamish (hello, Suellen!) so I won't post all of the pictures (admittedly, they're a little hard to look at). I'll just show the "after," not the "during."

But, bottom line, it was a day of exploration and positive energy with a friend who shares my spirit of adventure, so it doesn't get much better than that.

And the belly? Yeah, it hurts a little as it's healing. But I really, really like the look of it. :)

might as well jump...

2010-06-19T21:39:00.006-05:00

I'm 46 years old and have never jumped on a trampoline. Until tonight. We went to a friend's birthday party in Des Plaines and they had a trampoline in their backyard. A bunch of kids were playing on it and it looked like so much fun. I decided I really, really wanted to do it. So I waited until the kids left to get something to eat, then I hopped aboard. The top picture is me airborne and the bottom one is after I landed. What a blast!! Shortly thereafter, I was joined by a couple of 9 year old boys. They kept telling me "jump!!" I thought to myself, "how nice! They're being encouraging and motivational!" Only later when I got off, John told me that they were hoping to use the momentum of my jumps to increase the height of theirs. So they were using me!!! Still, one of them taught me how to do a forward flip. I didn't execute it with much style, but landing on my butt and springing up again made me laugh out loud. I find that I enjoy myself so much more when I let go of my inhibitions-- and, disclaimer: no alcohol was involved!

we are the champions

2010-06-12T14:05:00.002-05:00

Anything I write in this post will not come close to revealing the depth of my feelings about the Blackhawks winning the 2010 Stanley Cup. I feel like a fraud for even trying!

I cheer for three hockey teams. The Bruins, my birth team, are my first loyalty. The Blackhawks come second and the Penguins are third. The Penguins have won Cups recently, and although I've felt great pleasure in their victories, it wasn't the same. I have vague memories of the Bruins' last Cup victory in 1972. I was 9 years old. I remember we didn't have to go to school on the day of the celebration. I remember watching it on TV with my grandfather.

I wasn't even born when the Blackhawks last won the Cup in 1961. The team has undergone quite a resurgence over the past few years with Rocky Wirtz at the helm. He changed Chicago's feelings about our hockey team and gave us something to be proud of. The players are unparalleled in talent and in heart. They deserved it, but speaking for myself, I was almost afraid to hope that they'd actually get it.

There were a few bumps and missteps along the way. But when that unbelievable final goal was scored by Patrick Kane in game 6, I screamed so loud that all three of the cats ran for cover.

The days since have been remarkable. All of my friends know what a huge hockey fan I am. It took all of them only seconds after the final goal to post messages to me on Facebook, call me or e-mail me. Made me feel like *I* had won something. What an incredible outpouring of friendship and emotion. Made me cry.

Yesterday I stood on Michigan Avenue between Lake and Randolph along with 2 million other Hawks faithful to watch the culmination of a glorious season. I grabbed my spot on the parade route 4 hours in advance because I knew it was something I had to see as close as possible. I was front row-- couldn't have been better. I passed the waiting time eagerly messaging and e-mailing my friends to share the excitement with them. And I rubbed elbows with other fans, soaking it all in.

Across the street from my location was a Pauline bookstore. In the second floor window, a nun in full habit kept appearing and leaning out of the open window. Teenagers below had a boom box and they would periodically play a recording of the horn signalling a Hawks goal, followed by "Chelsea Dagger." The nun would sway back and forth to the music and raise her arms triumphantly. That became the defining moment of the parade for me. To see a city of people-- from all walks of life-- come together for something positive and pure was the best feeling in the world.

After a long wait, the procession started. First the Chicago police bagpipe band. The Budweiser clydesdales. A few corporate floats. Then the team executives. Finally, double-decker tour buses carrying the players. And the Stanley Cup. I took as many pictures as my shaking hands would allow. Their smiles were genuine and the love we had for them was even more so. It was a feeling palpable in the air around us.

I will cherish this experience as long as I live.

two races

2010-06-12T13:43:00.003-05:00

I've been so lazy about posting. The past few weeks have been such a whirlwind of activity.

On May 29th, I ran the Soldier Field 10 miler for the 6th time. This race is very special to me. Aside from the patriotic holiday it celebrates and the reminder that brings of my beloved grandfather, the course is outstanding and the race is very well organized. This year my friend Vince and his wife Becky were in town for it, so that was an added bonus.

For some reason, I tend to run very well during this race. Maybe it's the big finish on the 50 yard line (which, incidentally, I've never remembered to watch on the big screen). Despite the warm and humid conditions, I was able to keep a steady pace, something that isn't always easy for me. In fact, towards the end of the race, I knew that I had "time in the bank," which is a very comfortable feeling, believe me. For the last mile or so, my iPhone was running out of juice, so I turned it off and listened to the soundtrack in my head. For some reason, I kept thinking of Prince songs ("When Doves Cry" and "Purple Rain" in particular).

I also thought about my grandfather, WWII vet, who I miss immensely. He never knew me as a runner, but I know he'd be proud. I thought about the folks waiting for me at the finish line. In addition to John and my out of town runner friends, Teresa was there. Teresa's my constant race companion, an extremely gifted runner and has been very generous to me with encouragement and support. Also, Susie made the long trek from the suburbs just to watch us. Sue has undergone some serious health issues lately, but her spirit is as bright as ever. She's the reason I finished the Chicago Marathon in 2006 and she means the world to me; having her there was everything. She was the first of the group I saw in the stands as I was finishing the race.

I ran it in 1:42:49, which is 4:40 faster than last year (my previous personal best) and good enough to be in the top half of my age/gender group. Pure happiness.

The following Saturday was Girls on the Run 5K at Montrose Harbor. This race is all about celebrating girl power and the importance of friendship and mentoring. How fitting that once again Teresa was by my side. We had the honor of accompanying her daughter Alexis on the journey. Since it was the race debut of my new Vibram fivefingers barefoot running shoes, it was a blessing that Alexis wanted to keep a leisurely pace. Nothing mattered in this race but togetherness and joy and we had that in spades. Not even the rain could keep us down.

This past week marked the beginning of my official training for the Chicago Marathon. 10-10-10 will be here before I know it.

Going home, part 3: sacred ground

2010-05-23T18:33:00.009-05:00

9/11 seems both so long ago, yet only yesterday. I had the opportunity to visit the Flight 93 Memorial in Shanksville while in Western PA a few weeks ago.

I thought I was prepared for the sight, but I wasn't. It hit me like a punch in the stomach. The sky was very much like what it would've been that fateful day. The flags flying in the breeze and the stark cross against the barren ridge were poignant reminders of both terror and heroism.

After listening to a lecture by one of the volunteers, I perused the mementos left along the memorial wall. It was so moving to see tokens left behind by people from all over the country, and all over the world. I did not come prepared with an offering, but I felt very deeply that I wanted to leave something. So I gave the most meaningful item I had with me at the time. A shoelace from the running shoes I was wearing. As I bent down to unlace it and tie it upon the wall, tears started flowing. It seemed a little insignificant and small given the circumstances, yet it made me feel better.

I walked away feeling deep gratitude. May these heroes be remembered forever.

Going home, part 2: my sisters

2010-05-23T18:22:00.003-05:00

While on a recent trip to Pennsylvania, it struck me that I've blogged a lot about my friends, but not so much about my family. Pictured above are my sisters, Dawn (left) and Debra (right).

Dawn is two years younger than me. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband Tom, my 8-year-old nephew Justin and my 4-year-old niece Kaelyn. Debra's the baby of the family-- she's 11 years younger than me and lives in Virginia with her husband Ryan and my baby nephew Henry.

We're as different as different can be. Dawn's very conservative, a reader of Danielle Steel novels (which I always make fun of, just to annoy her), an analytical person who weighs every decision with great seriousness; everything in her house matches. Debra's bubbly and fun-loving, into mountain biking and adventure sports, loves her wine, is a bit of a wild child.

I love them more than words can express. They make me laugh. They comfort me when I'm down. Thanks, sisters. It was really, really good to be all together again.

Going home, part 1: remember where you came from

2010-05-23T17:55:00.003-05:00

Last week we made a trip to Western Pennsylvania. Although I spent my adolescence there, I hadn't visited in close to ten years. It was an emotional trip, since we were helping my mom pack up her belongings for a move to Virginia.

Living in an urban area, it's common to hear people talk negatively about rural communities. But I believe that you should pay homage to your roots. The places that you've lived shape you. Even when you are not there, you bear the imprint of them on your inner being and, as such, they should be cherished.

Before we got to my mom's house, we stopped to have dinner with our friends Vince and Becky in Johnstown, PA at the City View Bar & Grill at the Inclined Plane. The view of that humble city in the valley brought back such a rush of memories for me as I stared pensively out the window.

I've spent a lot of time in Johnstown. Both good times and bad. I played bantam hockey at the War Memorial for "Coach Barry." Recovered for weeks in the hospital with severe head trauma from an auto accident (I can still recall the nurse, Kathy, who was so nice to me-- and my doctor who called me his "little girl."). Kissed my first boyfriend at the top of this same Inclined Plane. It struck me that who we are is not an amalgam of our possessions or even our accomplishments. Our worth can be measured by the depth of relationships we've had, both past and present, and how we honor them.

So this place is not a rustic throwback to me. It's a wonderful piece of my soul. I think I've been away too long.

A silver lining

2010-05-11T14:48:00.003-05:00

I've certainly had my share of rough times this year. But I'm not going to wallow. Wallowing at this point is counterproductive and destructive. I prefer to look forward with my eyes fixed firmly on the horizon. There are certain things in life that no one can take away from you. Among those things are the people who hold you deep in their heart. The people who assure you with both words and actions that you will in fact find the strength to get through anything that life tosses in your path. True, I will sometimes lose my focus on the positive and slip back into a state of momentary sadness. But I'm comforted by the fact that I have friends who will be there to catch me and set me on my feet again. I am so blessed.

superstitions...

2010-04-24T15:43:00.003-05:00

Last night I was laughing at myself (as I frequently do) about all of my various and sundry pre-race superstitions:

1) odd bib numbers are best
2) breakfast has to be set out the night before-- packet of instant oatmeal, black bowl, spoon inside the bowl with the handle to the left, banana to the left of the bowl, everything on the counter opposite the sink
3) timing chip on the left shoe
4) a can of diet pepsi with breakfast... but always leave a little bit in the can
5) always carry some sort of talisman during the race; they vary because their luck can run out

This morning's Race to Wrigley was a first for me. We took the El because parking is insane up there. Weather was overcast and cool, but very humid. Something's wrong with my Garmin so I ran with my iPhone using the RunKeeper app to time myself. The irony that a free app does the exact same thing as my $300 (broken) Garmin does not escape me.

As much as I run, you'd think I'd have pacing mastered by now, but I was all over the place-- from almost 11 minute miles to 7-something. This is bad. Something to work on.

I felt pretty good throughout the race, although the last half mile was a challenge because I was starting to feel overheated. I wore a pullover rainproof jacket that did not breath at all-- once again I sacrificed myself for the gods of fashion-- the jacket has a Cubs logo and looks really cute.

The last tenth of a mile or so was in the concourse of the park, which was very exciting. Then we exited by the famous marquee and finished just outside. I came in at 29:42, which is 9:35 minutes per mile. My second best 5K ever, so I was very pleased. About 4,000 people ran the race; out of 88 in my age/gender group, I finished 29th.

I wonder if it was the talisman or the odd bib number?!?

all that glitters is gold/only shooting stars break the mold

2010-04-17T11:07:00.003-05:00

Right at this moment, Teresa is probably deplaning at Logan in order to run the Boston Marathon for the second time on Patriots Day. So it is only fitting that I finished the second painting in my running series within the same timeframe. I enjoy those kinds of parallels.

I listened to a lot of bhangra music while painting this one. I think it helped contribute to the spirit of jubilance and wonder I was working towards. Plus, bhangra's a lot of fun to sing and dance to (even though I have no idea what most of the words mean!)

There were a few surprises with this work. First of all, I expected to have an easier time with it than I did with Burning Bright. I know Teresa very well and have an excellent "visual memory" of her facial features. I figured that would aid me in getting the likeness. It didn't. Her face is very angular and elfin and I struggled. Ultimately, though, it suceeded in its Teresaness.

Secondly, although I did not reference Burning Bright while working on this one (it's called All That Glitters Is Gold/Only Shooting Stars Break The Mold), they formed a dialogue with one another-- a study of the yin and yang of running, if you will. While Burning Bright had a cool negative space and a hot figure-- blues causing frisson with oranges-- Glitters ended up with a hot negative space and a cool figure-- yellows interacting with purples. It's very exciting to me when my id drives color choices that only become apparent to me after the fact. I will definitely take a photograph of the two paintings together before I give them to their owners.

Teresa does not know I'm doing this. It will come with me to school on Tuesday for critique (after which I will make any adjustments I deem fitting as suggested by my peers). Then it will get wrapped up, maybe with a corny bow tied around it, and given to Teresa when she returns triumphant from the marathon. I cannot wait to see her reaction.

playing favorites

2010-04-03T17:16:00.002-05:00

I am an avid reader. I have always been. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve trips to the library. It was a historical building in Franklin, Mass. that had a gigantic children's book room complete with elaborate murals. In high school, I had a very influential English teacher named Miss Parrish; she was probably responsible for me becoming an English major in college. And I was editor-in-chief of our creative writing magazine, Syzygy. At St. Francis College, again I had the cream of the crop in terms of instructors and mentors-- Dr. Weixel, Dr. Labrie, Fr. Bede. Nowadays, I belong to two book clubs. I'm interested in EVERYTHING. I love beautiful language. I was thinking about the genres I read the most of. Listed below are five of my favorites (in no particular order) in those genres:

Horror
1) Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindquist. It's a Swedish girl-next-door vampire story. Very scary.
2) The Stand by Stephen King. Classic end-of-the-world epic. No one can touch King.
3) Afterage by Yvonne Navarro. A new twist on a vampire tale, set in Chicago. They're actually holed up in the Merchandise Mart. Inventive and gripping.
4) The Terror by Dan Simmons. He's another author who merits high praise. This one's set in the Arctic Circle.
5) Chicago Haunts: Ghostly Lore of the Windy City by Ursula Bielski. I love history. I love Chicago. I love being scared of ghost stories. This fulfills all the requirements.

Comedy
1) Confessions of a Shopaholic by Sophie Kinsella. This poor girl can justify spending money on anything... my soul mate!
2) Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster. A riches-to-rags story by a Chicago writer.
3) My Horizontal Life by Chelsea Handler. Short stories about one night stands. She's foul but hilarious.
4) Why We Suck by Denis Leary. I LOVE Denis Leary. He's from Worcester, MA, he loves the Boston Bruins, he has great hair and he plays a sexy fireman on tv. What's not to adore?!?!
5) When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris. He's laugh out loud funny and pure genius.

Nonfiction
1) The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down by Anne Fadiman. This work explores culture and medicine through the eyes of Hmong immigrants.
2) Endurance by Alfred Lansing. I'm friends with Suellen, so therefore I've read this book. ALL friends of Suellen read this book; it's not really an option. It's a very inspiring story of survival featuring Ernest Shackleton in the Antarctic. Magnificent.
3) Born to Run by Christopher McDougall. Everyone who runs or thinks about running should read this book. It's about barefoot running and the "superrunners" of the Tarahumara tribe in remote Mexico.
4) Into Thin Air by John Kraukauer. Mt. Everest expedition. Amazingly good.
5) Shadow Divers by Robert Kurson. A bunch of divers find a German U boat off the East Coast. This is one of the best books I've ever read. Period.

Miscellaneous Fiction
1) My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok. It's about the conflict between art and religion from the viewpoint of a Jewish painter.
2) The Kite Runner by Khaled Hossein. Friendship in Afghanistan. The subject matter sometimes makes it hard to read, but I couldn't put it down.
3) Hairstyles of the Damned by Joe Meno. Angst and discovery in the 1990's. Truly evocative of that era.
4) Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson. A murder mystery set in the Northwest. Beautifully written.
5) A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. A Dickensian dark comedy. Irving is such a smart writer.

okay, so I'm not a fish...

2010-04-02T20:32:00.006-05:00

Part of my new devotion to exercise involves taking cross-training seriously. It is essential for runners to build up fitness in all areas and the best way to do this is through alternative cardio workouts, as well as weight training.

One of the best low impact workouts is swimming. Full disclosure: although yours truly spent my formative years in Massachusetts, going to Cape Cod every weekend and spending countless hours on my dad's or grandfather's boat, I'm a very sucky swimmer.

Part of the reason for this is that I hate to get my face wet. Nevertheless, I'm into widening my exercise horizons, so I headed to the pool at LA Fitness today. Unfortunately, there were lots of people there to witness my lack of grace. My best stroke is something I like to call SFDP (super fast doggie paddle). True, I look like a puppy on speed when I go into SFDP mode, but it gets the job done-- and keeps my face dry. I can also float on my back fairly well and I do a unique version of the side stroke... still, I was somewhat self-conscious in front of all those people. The process was further complicated by trying to avoid getting kicked in the head by the porpoise in the lane next to me.

Out of the corner of my eye while I was bobbing along, I saw a guy in the hot tub actually leaning out of the tub and watching me make my awkward way across the pool. Glad I could provide some comic relief. Of course, perhaps he was just mesmerized by my brightly colored swimsuit? If you can't excel, I always say, at least dress the part.

recommitted

2010-03-28T18:05:00.004-05:00

I haven't been too good at multitasking lately, and this weekend I vowed to change that.

One of the main reasons for my tunnel vision is my painting. It's going astonishingly well and when I'm not actually painting, I'm thinking about painting. Above is the start of my third painting of the semester-- the first in the 7th Heaven band series. It's at its beginning blocking-in stages, but you can get an idea of the composition and subject. I've never painted a guitar before. I'm extremely pumped about this series. I had critique on Tuesday on this work, Burning Bright and Vertigo. All were well received and I couldn't be happier with the direction my artwork is headed. And I just got a couple pictures of Teresa to work on for the runners series. My cup runneth over with ideas and positive energy.

What's been suffering-- my running. I was able to luck my way through a new PR in Shamrock Shuffle last weekend despite insufficient training. I will not be able to do that for the longer races. After she runs the Boston Marathon, Teresa has volunteered to train me for the summer/fall-- she's already devised a personalized marathon training schedule for me. She'll come with me for long runs along the lakefront and will give those pep talks that never fail to motivate and encourage me. That's what makes her the best runner I know... she has tremendous running ability but she excels even more at being a generous friend. No one is more in my corner.

I have Race to Wrigley 5K coming up in April. Small race, but a new one for me and I'd love a PR. May will bring Soldier Field 10 Mile which is our favorite race EVER! Looking forward to running it with Teresa, Vince and Becky and having Sue and John along for support. Nothing's on the schedule for June and July so far, but Sue's planning her comeback and I'm honored to run alongside of her for that, whenever it may be. August 1 brings Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon-- another first time race for me. I fear the heat, but maybe it'll be okay. Then there's the big dance.... 10/10/10. Chicago Marathon.

There's always a reason not to run. I'm soooo behind on my reading for the two book clubs I belong to. I want to have a long chat with mom on the phone. The Hawks are on and soon it will be playoff time. Almost Easter and I have to make greeting cards for the family.

THERE'S NO REASON I CAN'T DO IT ALL!! I just have to be better at time management. I've done it before. I can do it again.

So I pulled myself away from the tv yesterday and did a 4 mile training run. This morning I forced my Sunday-attitude butt to the gym for a fast mile, then a 13.1 mile ride on the stationary bike, followed up by a nice soak in the hot tub. Once the habit is launched, it'll feel so good that I won't want to slack off. And that, ultimately, will make all other aspects of my life-- painting, relationships-- all the better. What could be more exciting?!?

Shame-rock Shuffle 8K? Not quite...

2010-03-21T17:05:00.003-05:00

I woke up this morning fully expecting to have a bad race. Due to work and family issues, my training has been sporadic at best. I'm a back of the pack racer on a good day and-- well-- there hasn't been an abundance of good days. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.

More important to me than the actual running are the friendships I've made and the ones that have deepened because of the sport. For the first time ever, I'd be undertaking this particular rite of spring without my close friends. Teresa's heavily into training for the Boston Marathon. Bonnie has retired to Texas. Sue's still recovering from a serious health problem.

Last night I decided to figuratively bring my loved ones with me on the run. I replaced the shirt I was planning to wear with a Boston Marathon t-shirt that Teresa bought for me last year (through it, maybe I could channel a bit of her speed). While standing amid the 25,000 people at the start, I decided to run a mile for everyone. Mile 1 for my mom. Mile 2 for Bonnie. Mile 3 for Teresa. Mile 4 for Sue. And the final mile for myself.

The weather was ideal. The rain/snow held off and although it was a little windy, temps were around 34 and the sky was overcast. Perfect conditions for me. As we passed SAIC on Columbus, I thought about how well my painting is going lately and that got me started with a surge of adreneline.

I thought about how proud my mom is of me, no matter how crappy a runner I am. The course was different this year and somehow the mile markers seemed to come a little faster. I thought about Bonnie, about how amazingly positive she is. I didn't feel tired. I thought about Teresa-- the best runner I know. I thought about what she told me on Friday when I expressed my doubts about the race... "you can use the negative energy as much as you can use the positive... you are capable of much more than you think you are."

I was into the 4th mile on Michigan Avenue and somehow I was not faltering. I thought about seeing Sue for lunch tomorrow and how emotional that will be. As I made the final turn up Mount Roosevelt, I did it for me. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Sheer willpower was making me run a decent race, despite my doubts and fears and lack of focused training. I'm not sure exactly how that happened. But when I crossed the finish line, my time was 51:52. A new PR by 53 seconds. Wonders never cease. Thanks, friends and family. I love you!

the ones who mean the most

2010-03-14T17:15:00.005-05:00

Another painting finished! Directly above is Vertigo, a portrait of John. I just finished it. Well, you know how that goes... "finished" is relative!

People often ask me if I have a favorite among my paintings. I guess that my self-portrait 10 pm has garnered the most critical favor, so I do like it a whole lot. But overall, the works that mean the most to me are the ones that mean the most to others. Let me tell you about them (starting with the most recent and progressing in sequential order):

Vertigo - I've painted John before. That's what you get when you live with an artist. He's a very patient and accomodating model and I love him so much for it. However, I think this one is the most powerful composition and it was certainly the most fun to do of any of the paintings of my husband. As I was finishing it, he was hanging out with me, reading a book. Usually when I'm painting, I'm completely oblivious to everything going on around me, but every so often I saw him glance at it. He really, really loves it. That's pretty much all the acclaim I need.

Burning Bright - this one was featured on my blog a few posts ago. It's of my dear friend Vince, who is an awesome runner. He knew I was doing a series of runners for school, so he generously dug up a picture for me. In addition to running like the wind, he also has a keen eye for composition and knew that this particular photo would make a great painting. He was right. It was one of the easiest paintings I've ever done and he seems happy with the result and that means a lot. Also, I believe Vince has some of his own artistic talents; a while ago he showed me some excellent photographs he took of winter landscapes in Pennsylvania. I wish he'd do more of that.

Young Dave - (see the second photo in this post, above) this was the largest painting I've ever done-- it's close to five feet tall. It features another very dear friend, David, on his motorcycle. For years, Dave and I were inseparable-- he has an open and sincere baby face that was a joy to paint. Again, it was a class assignment-- this time the theme was biker people. He and I went out to lunch at a local greasy spoon and I surprised him with it. It's the first time I've ever seen Dave speechless. It was a very special moment. Dave now lives in North Carolina with his partner Steve and I'm told the painting hangs in a place of honor in their home.

All That You Can't Leave Behind - (see the top photo in this post, above) every artist I know has done a 9/11 work. This was mine. I worked in Sears Tower when 9/11 happened and Robin, Kat, Toni and I were together for all of the horror and its aftermath. Shortly thereafter, I left my job at Sears Tower-- because it was in Sears Tower. It was one of the hardest things I ever did. I met Robin, Toni and Kat for lunch one day a few months later and snapped a few pictures of them. Later I drew it in colored pencil as a triptych. I chose it as one of the paintings I'd show for our Certificate in Drawing graduate show. None of the gals knew I did it. When they arrived to see the show, they walked in together, coincidentally enough, in the same order as they appeared in the painting. They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw it and more than a few tears were shed by all of us.

hey, Mace

2010-03-10T18:05:00.004-06:00

I can't tell you how many times I've uttered that phrase over the years. Sadly, not for a while-- Mason no longer sits across the partition from me at work ("Mr. Milligan, TEAR DOWN that wall!"). He left the firm a few years ago and the place hasn't been as good since. However, we've kept in touch and he recently started a new blog-- imagine my sheer delight when he added a link to my blog. It made me think of him and I decided to write a tribute to yet another dear friend.

What can I say about Mason? Well, first of all (and this is huge praise because you know how much I admire an artistic sensibility), he's one of the most creative people I know. He has a true talent for design which is equalled only by his outlandish sense of humor. He's also a great athlete, an amazing photographer and an honest and genuine friend.

There are so many stories I can recount. One time when I came back to work after a day off, I found our department mascot and Chief Marketing Chicken, Bock Bock, hung up by a noose. I've had my image Photoshopped in many strange and twisted ways (in a thought bubble of a cicada, being eaten by a Komodo dragon, on and on and on...). He willingly let me talk him into "running" the Chase Corporate Challenge (I won that year!! Ha ha). He always supported my artistic endeavors and even came to see my graduate show for the Certificate in Painting at SAIC. We've had "Chinese Fridays" and sing-alongs together in the marketing playroom. He taught me how to throw a baseball. At times he was the only one at work who kept me from walking out and never coming back when I had an especially bad day.

Mason's now in graduate school in Michigan studying sports marketing. He'll most likely own a baseball team someday. Or appear on Comedy Central. No matter what he does, he'll be successful because he's truly a wonderful person. If I had a little brother, I'd want him to be exactly like Mace. I miss seeing him every day, but I'm going to read his blog faithfully. You should, too.

bleach is not for amateurs

2010-03-08T15:46:00.003-06:00

So yesterday I got my hair cut. Within reasonable boundaries, I'm no stranger to experimentation with my hair, so every so often (when I can't come up with a new idea on my own), I let my stylist Celeste have at it with abandon. I'm always pleased with the results.

Yesterday was no different. It's been a while since my hair has been short and layered, so that's what Celeste chose. Sort of a "Joan Jett" 'do. I liked it very much. After she was done with the cut, she said, "you should color it dark red and do snappy red highlights on the top and sides." Hmmm....

Next stop was Sally Beauty Supply. I like to spend money, but I do subscribe to a little bit of my native New England frugality at times. I paid for salon coloring once, and it wasn't worth it in my opinion. Plus, John's dad and brother are barbers, so he's genetically programmed to help me out.

Highlights!! Let's see.... the store clerk recommended something called 'Ntense Red Mix 'N Go One Step Bleach 'N Color System. Intense! That's me!!

Although I bought some sort of bonnet thing with holes (you're supposed to pull strands of hair thru the holes with a little crochet hook), John (who for once read the instructions) noted that the diagram on the directions showed a freestyle approach. So that's what he tried. I'm blind as a bat without my glasses, so his assistance with color placement is greatly appreciated, and he's truly a good sport about it. All was well. Although my exuberance often outpaces my common sense when trying new things, we did not go crazy with the streaking. The next step was to put a cap on it and then heat with the blow dryer for a half hour or so.

This is where things started going south fast. In retrospect, I know exactly what went wrong. While attempting to tuck the longer strands along the sides of my face into the cap, I must've scrunched my hair together and, well, bleach and red went where bleach and red were not supposed to go.

I knew it was a disaster as soon as I rinsed it out. I had a good-sized fire engine red (INTENSE red) spot on the right side of my head, just above my ear. The iPhone picture above does not do the color justice, but you get the idea.

Oh. Shit. First I laughed. Then I didn't. Of course it was too late to go to the salon to get it fixed (and I have my pride). Luckily, I also had a spare bottle of dark red "base" color. Praying to every saint I've ever heard of, I attempted The Great Cover-Up. Long story short, it worked. Whew. The texture's a little goofy, but at least I can be seen in public without looking like a freak. Kids, do not try this at home.

balance

2010-03-04T20:11:00.003-06:00

So, work has been dreadful lately. There's a lot of uncertainty and oppressively bad vibes all over the place. Deadlines. Unbearable stress and a lot of frustration. And the situation with mom has sucked, to say the least (although that seems to be leveling off; today she is at her new home in an assisted living facility in Virginia, near my sister Debi's home).

But, man-- despite all of the weight on my shoulders and challenges I'm coping with-- am I ever painting!! I haven't been this prolific in a long, long time.

This photo is the very start of an interesting little piece I'm doing of John wrapped in a scarf. At this stage it is still very washy and without a lot of depth, but you can at least see the composition and where I'm headed with it. It's small (18 x 18) but it should have a lot of "pow" when I'm finished. I'm in love with painting his ear. And there are some very interesting dramatic shadow patterns and detail near his eye.

Meanwhile, I bought some very sweet portrait-grade linen (can't stop touching it!) and I'm in the process of gessoing it. I'm prepping two canvases (22 x 26 each) that will be the first in the 7th Heaven series. I plan on sketching them out this weekend. I'm still high as a kite about this project. It's going to be SO COOL!

So I guess everything in life is a balance. Bad work. Bad family drama. Good painting. And I did a fast, very satisfying three mile run today. Balance!

opportunity....

2010-02-28T19:40:00.002-06:00

So I finished the painting of Vince today... Ever restless, I'm constantly thinking about a million steps ahead.

At times like this I take a mental tour of images that dazzle me... I thought about all of the glorious pictures I have from a summerful of 7th Heaven concerts. Those who read my blog regularly are familiar with this group that I adore. So I went to their website and got the e-mail address for Richard Hofherr, their "head honcho" and I wrote him an e-mail asking him if he'd mind me doing some paintings of his band for a school project.

Less than two hours later he e-mailed me back. Not only does he not mind (thank you!), he said.... OMG.... he'd feature the paintings in their band newsletter they distribute to their fan base. Hello!!! Do you think I'm the tiniest bit excited?!?! Sometimes you make your own opportunities and sometimes it works out even better than you dreamed.

I've spent the past few hours analyzing photos to decide which ones to tackle. That familiar excitement is igniting big time. I'll go to Blick at lunchtime tomorrow and get the stretcher strips and some more gesso. Here we go again. Stay tuned.

done?

2010-02-28T14:11:00.002-06:00

Well, I think I'm finished with it. Part of the process is living with it and looking at it for a while. The hardest thing about a painting is knowing when it is "really" done. I tend to always look at it with a critical eye, always finding something else I can tweak. Sometimes that's good. But mostly it's not. Overworking a painting is the kiss of death. So I'll look at it a few days. Maybe it's done. Maybe not. Anyhow, I'm gonna watch the hockey game now. Go USA!

falling back, moving forward

2010-02-21T15:39:00.005-06:00

I'm going through a very tough time. I'm going to be brief about it, because my emotions are still very raw. My mother-- my best friend, my biggest fan -- is having some serious health issues. She's had mild dementia for a few years but last week she took a turn for the worse and now my sisters and I are forced to consider assisted care for her. It's ripping out my guts. Additionally, work is not going well for me. We're in the midst of a big and stressful project with a lot of deadlines, worry and tension. Some days I feel like I'm very close to falling off the edge of a cliff. But my problems are not unique. And, like all problems, I know they'll resolve with time. Until that happens, I have no choice but to try valiantly to find the strength within to cope as best I can. Thankfully, I have the support of friends and family who are there to listen and to lend me a shoulder to cry on.

And there is solace in routine. When times are tough, we tend to cling onto the goodness in our lives. For me right now, that's running, painting, hockey. Although my emotions frequently make me feel physically ill, somehow I've been managing to keep up with a decent exercise schedule. Three runs this week. 20 minutes of yoga. A glorious Friday afternoon ice skating session with a friend.

Additionally, art IS therapy and I've been hard at work on the painting of Vince. The picture above shows my progress. I went to class on Tuesday with the underdrawing completed and with Loretta's encouragement, I started to put paint to canvas. It felt awkward at first because I hadn't painted much in a while, but I felt the groove return slowly. I laid down a wash of gray in the background just to kill the white, but the uneveness of it was very distracting. So the next day I flattened the negative space. Not sure if I'm 100% satisfied with it-- I may want to cool it down a bit or perhaps lighten it-- but I'll resolve the figure before I make that final decision. The first application of paint made his face look somewhat like Bruce Willis (which kind of cracked me up), but the longer I work on it, the more the true likeness is emerging. Today I worked mostly on the face and the shirt, and laid down a stronger blue (cobalt) on the shorts. The arms and the legs are still very gestural; I'll most likely work on them in class on Tuesday. What's next? I've already started to sketch out my next painting. It's an oddly juxtaposed portrait of John wearing a scarf. It has some pretty dramatic lighting and coloration so I'm looking forward to it a lot.

And hockey. The entire Olympics, really. What perfect distraction. The USA vs. Canada game is on tonight and I can't wait. It's a win-win because Blackhawks are on both teams!

So althought I'm beaten and bruised, I'm not defeated. Sue gave me some good advice yesterday-- live in the moment. Focus on what you are doing RIGHT NOW. Projecting into the unknown future can quickly become too overwhelming. Great advice from a great person.

a blank canvas

2010-02-14T16:22:00.003-06:00

Tuesday night was my first day of school; I'm taking a painting studio at SAIC. We'll work independently on a cohesive body (or bodies) of work. After consultation with my instructor Loretta, I decided to pursue two themes... runners and friends/family in scarves.

My first work is going to be a running portrait of my friend Vince. The source photo is excellent-- lots of strong shadows that will translate wonderfully in paint. I rarely do preliminary thumbnails, but this time I did because I was uncertain of the composition I'd use. I made three sketches in class. One was tightly cropped on the figure... that I rejected almost immediately because it was too confining. Next, I did a horizontal composition, orienting the figure towards the right, with a little negative space above and lots to the left. That didn't feel right, either. Finally I decided to place the figure to the far right, with plenty of negative space above and to the left. It's a non-traditional layout but it excited me right away.

It will be a mid-sized work... 30 x 20. I'm going back to canvas-- linen primed with gesso.

Here's how today's graphite drawing process went (see photo above with apologies for my lack of skill with the camera):

Sunday, February 14, 1:38 p.m. Sam Adams Light, chocolate oranges. iPod on shuffle-- Gravity by 7th Heaven. Sweet Child 'O Mine by Guns 'N Roses. Started with the head. It soon became apparent to me that if I don't get the mouth right and the jawline, it's not Vince. Did a lot of erasing, but I think it finally came together. I stepped back. Gives You Hell on the iPod. I'm dancin' now. This feels so right.

Arms, chest, torso. There's considerable foreshortening on the right arm/hand. I anticipated trouble with it, and I was right. That got erased about a million times and I actually screamed in frustration once (John came running down the stairs to see if I was okay). I'm still not thrilled with it, but I need some time away from it. It'll translate better with paint.

Finished up with the legs/feet. That was the easy part. Journey singing Don't Stop Believin'. Yes indeed. I believe this is going to be a very good one. I'm feeling very satisfied with myself right about now. Victory dance to Right Round. I put down the pencil at 4:14. Painting on it starts Tuesday. Gonna do the water soluble oils even though they kind of intimidate me.

Meanwhile I'm prepping the canvas for the first in the scarf series, which will feature John. Because it needs a couple more coats of gesso (and the Olympics are on) I probably won't get it sketched tonight, but I'll do so tomorrow after work.

This class is exactly what I needed.

indecision...

2010-02-01T20:55:00.002-06:00

.. is no more. As many of you know, I ran the 2006 Chicago Marathon with less than an ideal outcome. Halfway through the 18 weeks of training, I developed SI joint problems in my back and was simultaneously training for the race and going thru physical therapy and on meds. How sick and twisted is that? The race was difficult and painful for me, but I didn't regret it one single bit. I had so much encouragement and support from friends and family and crossing the finish line, albeit in tears, truly did change my life and gave me confidence.

Since then, I've been content with shorter races-- 5Ks, Soldier Field 10 Miler, half marathons. Every year, for about a few weeks in October, I toy with the idea of giving the "big dance" another shot. This mostly happens when I'm prowling the Expo with Teresa, who is-- hands down-- the best runner I know and a truly awesome friend. Then the marathon comes and goes and I get "cured" of my ambitions.

But for some reason this year, the nagging thought of "should I try again?" didn't go away. And for months now I've gone back and forth in my mind. I'm several years more experienced with running. Yeah, but, I'm also several years older. Indecision is not my style. What's up?

I've talked to Teresa about it, who repeats the refrain "10-10-10" (the date of the race). I've talked to John about it. He'll support and love me no matter what. I talked to my chiropractor about it, who sadly informed me that he doesn't have a crystal ball and has no idea how well (or poorly) my less than perfect anatomy will react. I've talked with my sisters. One thinks I'm crazy. One might want to do it with me. I talked to my mom, who is a big-time marathon fan. She's all for it.

But ultimately it comes down to me. Do I have the motivation and determination to go through what I know will be a tough road? Do I want it bad enough? No doubt I'll have the support from loved ones. I have that in spades-- it's the only thing that's a given here. Yes. No. Do it. Don't.

Today registration opened. I thought about that as soon as I woke up. I still didn't know what to do. I went to work and worked for about an hour or so. Then something in my mind just clicked. I dunno. Can't explain it. I went to the marathon's website and registered. I'm in. For better or for worse. John was the first person I told. Then Teresa. Nick. Candace. Joe. Mom. Debi. Dawn. Facebook friends. Now the blogosphere.

I'm pretty excited.

Nenikikamen revisited

2010-01-24T19:54:00.004-06:00

I'm finding my way! Just spent about an hour with my painting. The paint's very weird. It's not oil, exactly. But it's not acrylic. It's a weird amalgam that I'm still trying to grow accustomed to. I definitely miss the bounce-bounce of stretched canvas, so I doubt I'll use canvas board again.

The medal was very hard to sketch out and I'm equally afraid of putting the base coat of color on it. Metal is notoriously difficult to capture. And the shoe is very, very complex. I'm glad I chose to do this small (it's about 10 1/2 x 12). Although I'm engrossed with it, I'm always thinking one or two paintings ahead. I start class at SAIC on Feb. 9 (if it doesn't get cancelled for low enrollment) and I have an idea for a series that could be dynamite. And I have a running picture of a friend that will translate very sweetly to paint (or pastel, I'm not sure yet). But, til then, there's Nenikikamen.

Some of my friends ask me about my painting process. At home, I have to be alone. I need music. I sing along with the music-- badly. I dance, too. Tonight it's Lady Gaga and me doing "Bad Romance." I lose myself in it-- it's a complete focus. Hard to explain. Random thoughts come and go, but mostly it's color, shape, relationship, music and emotion. It's a heck of a lot of fun.

Hopefully it will take me to a good place. I'll keep you posted.

You are precious in my eyes, and glorious, and I love you

2010-01-09T08:49:00.003-06:00

That saying (I'm pretty sure it's a Bible verse) was engraved on a pen that Bro. Donald Richard gave all of the 1981 graduating seniors at Bishop Carroll High School and I've remembered it all this time. It comes to mind now when I'm thinking about my friend Sue.

I first met Sue at work several years ago. What I noticed about her was her positive attitude, her ready smile and her utter selflessness. She was there, always, for all of us. And she was a heck of a lot of fun to be around. She refers to our little group as "partners in crime" and we are.

At that time, she had problems with her knees and sometimes I'd notice that she had a hard time even walking. But instead of becoming overwhelmed with pity, Sue took action and changed her life for the better with exercise. She's now a seriously badass triathlete who ogles bikes like most women ogle men.

We've had many wacky adventures together. One time, Sue cajoled me into doing an indoor triathlon with her. I was already a runner, and growing up in Western PA with all those hills and no mass transit system to speak of, I was well schooled on the bike. That left swimming. I doggie paddle and it ain't pretty. During the "race," grandmothers were beating me in the pool and I cracked myself up at how poorly I was doing; many times I was just clinging onto the side laughing. Yet there was Sue at the side of the pool urging me on, screaming my name as loud as she could. Embarassing, yes, but very touching.

Another time, Teresa, Sue and I decided to do the Polar Plunge in Lake Michigan. I forget the exact date, but it was arctic outside. We all wore bikinis and Sue furnished us with tiaras and white feather boas to complete our outfits. I've never been so cold in my life, but yet I'm warm every time I think of that story. It's a happy memory.

Yet another time, we celebrated her 50th birthday together with wild and crazy dancing and tons more laughter. We've run races together... a lot of them. She was the volunteer who took off my chip and gave me a hug when I finished a half marathon. We just did a Halloween run as the Rice Krispie kids.

My absolute best Sue story, though, is the Chicago Marathon 2006. Halfway through training, I suffered a lower back injury and really had no business doing the race in that condition. I managed okay til about mile 22, then it went rapidly downhill for me. I was in tears with agony and could barely walk a step and was on the verge of exiting the course and not finishing the race. Then, from out of nowhere, Sue suddenly appeared next to me on the road. She had been waiting for hours in miserable weather conditions just to be there for me. She put her arm around me, told me she loved me and urged me to keep going. She took a few steps with me and held me up. She gave me the courage to go on with the race. There are many people whose love was invaluable to me during my marathon experience, but I can honestly say that it was Sue who was responsible for me finishing that race. I will remember that my entire life.

Sue's now in the hospital in New York. She had a sudden, serious health issue while visiting her daughter. Still, she's e-mailing her friends and looking forward to our next adventures. What a great spirit. What a great person. Get well soon, my friend.

No one's a stranger on New Year's Eve

2010-01-01T09:09:00.002-06:00

I just had the best New Year's Eve EVER. Yes, I know I'm prone to exuberance, but I mean it... really.

Our typical New Year's Eve is that of a boring middle-aged couple. Staying home with movies on the DVD and a bunch of junk food in our bellies. Poor John kisses the cats at the stroke of midnight because I'm asleep.

This year, however, we decided to go out. So we spent a stupid amount of money to attend a party at the Hyatt Regency. Why? Hello! Our favorite band, 7th Heaven, was playing there. First thing I did a few days before was to go in search of a new frock. I don't wear dresses much. It's not that I object to dresses. I like them. It's a panty hose thing. Me in panty hose is like an animal caught in a trap. I'd almost be willing to chew my legs off to get a break from the discomfort. But I wanted to be festive. My go-to store is Filene's Basement (bow your head when you say that name), and it did not disappoint. Ding-ding-ding... tried on three dresses and the first one fit perfectly and I loved it. Better yet-- $24!! I also scored a new dress shirt and tie for John so that we'd coordinate-- which he promptly rejected when I brought it home in favor of a shirt that is, in my opinion, not as stylin'. Ah, but he's a Taurus. Whatever.

We took a cab there. Some anxious moments on my part. I'm phobic about being late to anything. If it starts at 8:30, I want to be there at 8:15. Cabs were hard to find but we got there only a few minutes late.

The buffet food was tasty and I enjoyed people watching. Then the music. Oh, the music! Those of you who know me know that I'm really passionate about this band. So much so that they should pay me. If you're in Chicago, go see them sometime. If not, check out the videos on their website at http://www.7thheavenband.com/.

A 7th Heaven concert is a full contact sport. Watch out, ladies and gentlemen, I played hockey. And I'm not shy. I know where I want to be... right up against the stage and I ain't moving for no one or nothing. Of course, it helps to have a husband who is 6'2" and 230 pounds to run interference.

They played 4 sets and it went on and on. Pure bliss. Joie de vivre to the max. We met some nice people and partied like it was 2010. I once ran a marathon and it was pure agony. Dancing all night in high heels is the inner circle of agony. I screamed like a groupie (I am) until I couldn't talk any more and I don't expect to regain my hearing til some time in April. I adore these guys. They're so talented and gosh darn, so cute. My favorite is Nick-- when he does Your Love, I go into orbit. John has a bit of a man-crush on Mark, the bass player. Mark's signature is to play barefoot, so I'm convinced it's a podiatry thing.

Usually I hate crowds and get very nasty when someone's in my personal space, but all kinds of violations occurred and it didn't bother me in the least. When I pondered that aloud to John, why I was cool with it, he offered this bit of wry wisdom-- "boys and booze." I'm not a big drinker-- it gets me dizzy and sick and I'm afraid of it, so I only had two glasses of wine. I think I was high on the night, the people, the music. Happy 2010, everyone.

Merry whatever

2009-12-27T20:02:00.004-06:00

As I lapse into a coma on the couch after eating one cookie too many, I'm reflecting back on the holiday season of 2009. Here's what I've come up with (in no particular order):

1) How 'bout dem Blackhawks? I was delighted by the premier episode of Blackhawks TV which aired on Christmas day, giggled at the Happy Hullidays commercials and have relished every moment of the past few games. These guys are the real deal and it just might be their year. Regardless, it's so much fun to watch.

2) Shopping for jeans is the bane of my existence. As a nice little perk, we're allowed to wear jeans to work all next week. So-- duh-- I need to buy some new ones. During shopping trips on Thursday and Saturday, I tried on 23 different pairs. Pocket placement is so key-- it can spell the difference between "hot ass" and "all ass." Unflattering jeans can bring me to tears.

3) Nothing is a better gift than pictures of my niece and nephews. Every year, Dawn gives me a Shutterfly album of a year's worth of pictures of Justin and Kaelyn. Justin's 8 and plays hockey now, which fills me with so much pride. Kaelyn's 4 and is becoming quite an artist. Dawn also accuses me of passing on some other not so desirable traits to Kaelyn-- her "dark side" (she loves stories about monsters), her sweet tooth and her tendency to use "bad words." Hey, I can't help my genetics, can I? Little Henry always looks so happy and wears his new Cubs sweatsuit with such style and grace. His blond hair sticks up in all directions and never fails to make me smile. I'm not much of a kid person, but I truly adore these three.

4) I didn't do my massive cookie bake this year, but I did follow my yearly tradition by making my Grammy's cranberry torte. Before she died, she wrote our favorite recipes on index cards. Cranberry torte is the first thing we eat on Christmas morning. I loved my grandparents immensely and I think about them a lot. This is a beautiful way of honoring a very sweet memory.

5) John's Christmas village is another tradition. He's extremely anal about setting it up and it takes him hours to plan and execute the design. Frank Lloyd Wright would be jealous. I sometimes mess with my darling spouse by moving a figurine or two out of place. Cruel, yes, but a heck of a lot of fun.

6) I'm somewhat envious of friends and family who send holiday cards with pictures of their dogs dressed in holiday sweaters, antlers or santa hats. I would love to do that with Sheila, Baylee and Jessica (0ur cats), but the one time I attemped it, it cost me some flesh. Cats just don't do hats. It's a feline thing.

7) How much is it going to suck to take all of these decorations down?!?!

Happy 2010, everyone!

Continuity

2009-12-22T21:17:00.010-06:00

If you don't enjoy reading about someone waxing philosophical in a memoir-like way about sports, turn back now. While at the Bruins vs. Hawks game the other night, I got to thinking about how there are very few things in life that are constant. I could only come up with one in my own life... hockey.

As a young child in Massachusetts, we skated almost as soon as we could walk. Dad and Grampy enjoyed ice fishing; my sister Dawn and I often accompanied them and spent time whizzing around one frozen pond or another. We had our own rink, too. Dad rigged up two by fours and plastic sheeting to magically convert the summer garden to an ice rink, complete with a spotlight for night skating. We'd come in only when we could no longer feel our extremities.

Two important people outside of the family shared my love of hockey... childhood friend Suzanne and our babysitter Mary. My very first love interest wasn't the boy next door, a kid on the bus or a member of the Partridge Family. It was Gilles Gilbert, goalie for the Boston Bruins. Sometimes I'd watch the games with my grandfather from the foot of his recliner, but more often I'd drag my 13" black and white tv from my bedroom to the kitchen table. I needed the flat surface for my writing. Every game, I meticulously kept a score sheet-- goals and assists, penalties and various notes. Every single game. I stored them in a three-ring binder. Then I'd draw pictures. Goalies mostly (Gilles Gilbert, surrounded by red and pink hearts).

As adolescence loomed, we had a very unsettling move from Massachusetts to Pennsylvania and suddenly my life was in turmoil. I missed my friends. I missed the Bruins. A book called "The Picture History of the Boston Bruins: From Shore to Orr and the Years Between" went with me everywhere and became a source of comfort for me. I still have it today.

After recovering from injuries sustained in a serious auto accident, I decided I wanted to play organized hockey. Even though my mom was a divorced parent trying to raise three young girls on not a lot of money, she drove me in all kinds of weather to Johnstown so I could play bantam hockey at the War Memorial. I was the first girl to ever play in what was (up until then) an all-boys league. Quite frankly, they didn't know what to do with me, but they knew they couldn't refuse my participation, so play I did (but they graciously waived the jock strap requirement). I changed clothes in the ladies bathroom since I couldn't go into the locker room. At first, my teammates resented all of the attention I got, but then Coach Barry appealed to their burgeoning chivalry and soon enough they saw me as a little sister in need of protection. Suddenly I had a team of big brothers and I gloried in it. I really was little-- just over 5 feet and barely 100 pounds. I was a good skater-- better than many of the boys-- but if the opponents caught me, I didn't fare so well. I had waist-length hair then, which I braided and tucked into my helmet to discourage hair pulling.

Around this time, I met a lifelong friend through hockey. Michaela. She lives in New York and I answered her ad for a hockey pen pal in some hockey magazine or newspaper. In the days before the internet and 24-hour sports channels, she became a news lifeline about my team. My grandparents did the same. Every week my grandmother would send me a letter with two dollars and clippings about the Bruins from the newspaper. Sometimes she'd write editorial comments in the margins in her flowery penmanship-- "Oh my!" beside a picture of a fight. I still have some of these.

During my high school years (junior year, I believe), I took a significant interest in rookie Al Secord, who was destined to become my second great hockey love. Although I'm not a fan letter sort of person, I wrote to him and much to my surprise and delight (remember, those were more innocent and simpler times) I got a handwritten letter from him in addition to an autographed picture. In the letter, he told me that I was the first fan to ever write to him. I was convinced that I would marry him.

Back in the late 70's and early 80's, we went to Pittsburgh when the Bruins played the Penguins. Pre-Mario Lemieux, it was possible to walk right up to the players after the game if you knew which gate to wait at. That way, I was able to meet and get autographs and pictures of some of the big names of the day-- Gerry Cheevers, Terry O'Reilly, Wayne Cashman, Jean Ratelle, Brad Park... and Al Secord. I introduced myself and he knew right away who I was. More on him later.

Freshman year of college I was seriously messed up from a non-hockey related broken heart (long story...), then I was committed to my studies and friendships, so hockey took a back burner for a few years. Then it was graduate school, marriage and a move to Chicago. At the time, the Blackhawks were in the cellar and tickets were fairly easy to come by, so once again it was full immersion.

Roller hockey evolved and along with it came a team called the Chicago Cheetahs. I hadn't heard much about it, but a friend of mine (who knew my hockey history) urged me to attend the first game at UIC because there would be a "big surprise." So I did. You probably guessed the surprise. One of the Cheetahs was Al Secord. One again, he remembered me, as he did a few years later when he played on the Chicago Wolves.

In the 90's, John and I made a yearly tradition out of attending the Blackhawks Winter Ball, which benefitted Maryville Academy. It's like going to the prom with the entire Blackhawks team and their wives/girlfriends. Again, much excitement and picture taking-- Denis Savard, Bob Probert, Ed Belfour, Chris Chelios. Another brush with hockey celebrity came when John became Jeremy Roenick's podiatrist during the year that the NHL went on strike. Roenick actually conducted negotiations on their office phone while he was waiting for treatment. And at John's request, he left me a surprise voicemail on my work phone saying "your husband is causing me tremendous pain."

Chicago Stadium morphed into the United Center and the Hawks tanked, then rose again, which brings us to the present. A busy work schedule, a household to maintain, keeping up with friends, family and Facebook fill my days. Although the faces of the players (aside from Chelios's) are now older than mine, my interest has not become stale. I still thrill at the speed of the puck flying down the rink. The majesty of an untouched sheet of ice. The colors and sounds of a fast-paced game. Throughout my lifetime... past, present and future... the humble game of hockey-- lesser-appreciated cousin of football and baseball-- has made my good times better and my bad times lighter.

My friend Vinny

2009-12-11T16:50:00.002-06:00

Those of you who know me well know that I like to talk about my friends a lot and that I hold all of them in very high regard. One friend I haven't talked about yet on my blog is Vince. Although we grew up probably less than 2o miles from each other, we "met" by random coincidence on Runners World message boards. And we both love hockey. And we both graduated from the same college. And we're both Type A obsessive, slightly neurotic people (but in an endearing way). And we both love to write.... it's truly amazing how similar we are in so many ways.

This May I got to meet him and his wife for real when they came to town so that Vince could run the Chicago Marathon. Since our friendship didn't really develop in a traditional manner, I was slightly apprehensive about meeting him. Much to my delight, there was zero awkwardness and it was like we had known them for a lifetime. We had a lovely meal at Leona's and the next day I got to see him speed by around mile 18 in the marathon. He qualified for Boston and I like to think that my cheering him on helped just a tiny fraction!

They're coming back in May to run the Soldier Field 10 miler with Teresa and me. I look forward to spending more time with them. Anyhow, Vince's blog is now listed here on my page. Check it out. In addition to being a very talented runner and a friend I like a lot, he's a damn good writer.

Wrapper, beware!

2009-12-11T12:25:00.002-06:00

Many people are surprised when I admit that I abhor wrapping gifts. They figure that, since I'm an artist, I must enjoy the challenge of presenting something in a beautiful way. That's so not true. Rather, the entire process fills me with overwhelming dread. Here are some of the common pitfalls that vex me and send my anxiety level into the stratosphere. Perhaps you can relate to some or all of them.

1. Spatial Relationships - What do you do if you cut the paper too small? Ignore it and leave a tacky-looking gap that essentially broadcasts for all to see how inept and lazy you are? Try to patch it up? Sure, that approach gives a passing nod to the fact that you actually give a shit, but it also says that you're still too lazy to do it right. Start over, cutting a new piece of paper? Then what do you do with the short sheet? Hope it fits something else? Or just throw it away? That's wasteful and an admission of failure.

2. Tape Allocation - If you use too little, that sends the following subtle message to dirty little peekers like my sister Dawn-- "Go ahead, pick at it a bit... bend that corner back and maybe you can see what it is without actually opening it." Do that and you're being an enabler. On the other hand, if you take the Homeland Security approach and seal off all the entrances, you risk pissing off impatient friends and family who don't have all day to search for a point of origin for that good first tear.

3. Paper Design Selection - Does it really matter? Will my 8-year-old nephew feel offended if I use Sesame Street wrapping paper showing Big Bird in a santa hat? Is he too mature and cool for that? And if I have some paper left over from last year, will anyone remember if I use the same design again?

4. Tissue Paper from Hell - Who started the sick tradition of nesting a gift of clothing in a neat over-layer of tissue paper before sticking it in a box? Mine never looks exquisite or elegant. It just looks wrinkled and sad, like an old lady's face before Botox.

5. Bows are a Stupid Gimmick - They just fall off anyway. Or get smooshed beyond all recognition. Or eaten by the cats, who, in turn, promptly regurgitate all of the fa-la-la on the carpet.

So, that's all I have to say on the subject. Take your stuff to Borders and have a teenager in an elf suit wrap it for you. Or stick it in a bag with some of that artsy confetti stuff and call it a day. Or don't wrap it at all. Whatever.

Next!

2009-12-08T21:42:00.004-06:00

This evening I finished the under-drawing that forms the framework of my next painting. Rushing the drawing bit me in the butt for the last painting, so I was focused on not making the same mistake twice. I think I used more eraser than graphite!

A few things about this work will be experimental for me. First, the ground. I usually use hand-stretched canvas (mostly linen primed with 2-3 coats of gesso), but this time I'm going with canvas board. I'm sure I'll miss the tactile "bounciness" of the canvas, but this was handy and cheap for what will be essentially a test. Secondly, I'm putting the acrylics aside and will attempt this one with Windsor & Newton water mixable oil colors. I love the buttery quality you get with oil, but the turpentine isn't all that fun to work with. I'm hoping that this will be a successful marriage between the feel of oil and the convenience of acrylics.

This painting already has a name. It's called Nenikikamen. Loosely translated, it means "we are victorious," which is what Phidippeides uttered at the end of the first marathon.

Wish me luck!

yay, me!

2009-11-22T17:45:00.003-06:00

Lincolnwood Turkey Trot 5K is one of my favorite races. It's well organized, the course is suburban (and therefore out of the ordinary for me), and the weather's cool. This morning I got up and my neck/shoulder was sore (a problem I've had off and on since age 13 or so, but why did it have to flare up today?) But I said to myself, "so f***ing what." Everyone has aches. Today I decided to run a sub-30 5K. I've done it only once before, a 29:21 at the Lung Run in 2006 (although to this day I think the course must've been short because I don't think I really ran that fast... I even recall walking a bit during the race).

We met Teresa there. Before lining up at the start, we shared a hug and she gave me a pep talk--- "I know you can do it. I know you can do it today." I felt like I could, too. I ran the first mile in less than 9 minutes. Uh oh. That's too fast for me to maintain (at least for now!). So I slowed and tried to keep around a 9:30 minute/mile pace thoughout. I'm not perfect at pacing... sometimes I was faster, and sometimes I was slower. But I passed the two-mile marker at 18-something, so I knew I was doing okay in that regard. I usually start to slow down around 2.5, but not this time. I kept telling myself that it would all be over in about 5 minutes or so... suck it up and keep going. I'd be pissed at myself if I lost focus and blew it (like I usually do!). I thought of Teresa and Uncle Dick waiting for me at the finish and how happy and proud of me they'd be if I met my goal. And how much I'd enjoy telling John about it after he finished the race.

My legs felt like lead as the finish line came into sight. I usually have a little "kick" at the end, but not this time. I didn't see Teresa and Uncle Dick while I was running, but I certainly heard them. After I crossed the line and knew that I was under 30, I turned to the left and Teresa and Uncle Dick were right there. I fell into their arms. Wow. If I had had enough energy, I probably would've cried. 29:46 (I don't think I hit my watch quite right at either the start or the finish, which explains the discrepancy in the picture above).

After the race, we met and talked with a barefoot runner. Hmmm... intriguing. There are always nice people at races. Pizza and hot soup in the tent, then we met John and congratulated him on his race. He knew right away by the smile on my face what my result was.

I'm very happy with myself that I was able to reach down and grab some inner strength that is sometimes hard to find. I'm even happier that I was able to do it surrounded by people who love me. I think I'll take a nap now.

Friendship

2009-11-18T18:46:00.003-06:00

Work's been sucking lately. Due to the bad economy (among other things), it's been tense, stressful, not a happy place to be. Although I realize I'm lucky to have a job, sometimes it's just, well, too much.

But, in the midst of it all, there's laughter and silliness. Let me tell you about my friend Cy. He and I used to "work" together at the same firm-- me in Chicago, Cy on the West Coast (he lives in San Francisco) We've never met... interacting only on the phone when we worked together and via e-mail since we've both moved on. I've known him for probably 15 years or more. Getting an e-mail from Cy is like a snuggly blanket and a mug of hot cocoa-- guaranteed to put a smile on your face. He writes long, descriptively fun e-mails about food (he really, really should be a restaurant critic), fashion, Project Runway, Top Chef, running at the gym... anything and everything, many times a day.

Today, for absolutely no reason, I got a package from San Francisco containing Hello Kitty and a stylish, artsy card. I giggled til my stomach hurt. Every time I look at it, I'll smile. Thanks, Cy. Good friends like you are a rare and precious gift.

It's done!

2009-11-14T11:32:00.004-06:00

You know that painting that I've been working on, well, forever? I finished it this morning! Connecting with an old artist friend on Facebook and meeting a new artist friend at dinner last week inspired me to get off my lazy ass and "just do it." It doesn't have a name yet, but something will come to me.

Thoughts? I worked it much more abstract that I usually do and that caused me some degree of angst. Compositionally, I like the receding figures, and the two bending at the waist-- although I kind of got lost in a clutter of arms and legs and it doesn't read as well as I wanted it to. But you learn something with every painting and I learned that you CAN get rusty if you don't work at it with some degree of regularity. This one's so rusty it needs Rust-oleum. But that's okay. There are some elements I really like (the face on the guy to the far right, the red shoes on the guy in the middle). I wish my photography skills were a little bit better and the glare a little less-- but trust me, these are the high points of the work.

Next? Although I love the no-fuss aspect of acrylics, you can't beat the lusciousness of oils. I want to go back to them. I bought some water soluble oils a while back, so I think I'm going to try to find them in the black hole that is my basement. Experiment a little. Also, I'm thinking about a sweet little pastel drawing for a friend as a Christmas present. The important thing is that I have my mojo back. Finally.

Do what feels good

2009-11-08T15:19:00.003-06:00

John's out of town, so I treated myself to a completely self-indulgent weekend.

Yesterday I did a 5-mile run along the lakefront. The wind was crazy strong-- a couple of times if felt like it was going to blow me off the path and into the water. I laughed out loud at the sheer joy of the sensation. The absolute beauty of this city never fails to amaze me, even though I've lived here for over 20 years. The physicality of limbs in motion, the pungent scent of sun-warmed leaves, the majesty of our skyline and the sparkle of the lake elevated me. I love to run. I love everything about it. I felt like I could've gone many more miles.

Today I spent a few hours at The Art Institute. A friend of mine says that his religion is baseball; mine is art. In the movie "The Cutting Edge," there's a scene where the main character talks about the significance of the smell of the ice in a hockey rink. It's the same for me at AIC-- it's the smell of comfort and well-being. I know this building like the back of my hand and I ritualistically see certain favorite pieces every time I go. Appropriate music on my iPhone accompanied my homage-- Radio Nowhere (Springsteen) and Higher (Creed) for my absolute favorites-- Ivan Albright's work in gallery 262 (see http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/93798). Then, Dreams on Fire (Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack) for the apsaras and God Ganesha, Remover of Obstacles in Indian art. Today I also stopped by the Caravaggio exhibition. My first sight of The Supper at Emmaus made me gasp out loud at the perfection of it. A delicious salad and pinot grigio finished the visit. I always leave AIC better than when I walked in.

Snap, Santa and Pop (and friends)

2009-10-25T15:19:00.007-05:00

Today was the Trick or Trot 5K near Montrose Harbor. This year, Teresa, Sue and I decided to run as Rice Krispies-- I'm Snap, Teresa's Crackle and Sue's Pop.

In true Linda fashion, John and I got to the race much, much earlier than we needed to (what I lack in running ability I make up for in punctuality). Found Pop pretty quickly and hung around with her. Where's Crackle? 10 minutes before race time, she rushes in with daughter Alexis. But wait... it's not Crackle... it's... Santa Claus?!?!?! She may have just qualified for Boston in a youthful manner (over 20 minutes faster than she needed to for her age group--qualified as an 18 year old, in fact) but Teresa really, really sucks at costume design-- no child-like creativity at all. We all had a laugh at her expense then lined up at the start (all in good fun, of course).

Pop was going for time, John the clown was just trying to waddle to the finish (but without his red nose this year because it makes it hard to breathe), so Santa and I ran with Alexis. I learned that my running style can be very compatible with an 11 year old's-- run a bit, walk when you're tired or just want to enjoy the sights, whine when you're thirsty and wonder where the hell the finish line is. We jumped to high-five low hanging branches when we felt like it, marveled at other costumes and soaked in a beautiful fall day along Chicago's lakefront. When Teresa tried to urge Alexis to keep her pace, she was scolded with, "mom, you're doing the child abuse."

Once we hit the three mile marker, Alexis was off in a full-out sprint. Fast!! Teresa and I took off after her, but neither of us could keep up. I should've checked my Garmin to see how fast we were going, but I was trying too hard to beat the kid!! That'll hurt me tomorrow, I'm sure. I think we finished around 40 minutes, but who cares? As we were crossing the finish line, the race announcer said, "here comes Santa-- looks like someone is confused as to which holiday it is!" Perfect! T will never, ever live this one down. It'll be dredged up time and time again as part of our race lore when we all get together and tell stories.

Afterwards, lots and lots of candy. Is there anything better on God's green earth than banana Laffy Taffy?!?! John finished a few minutes after we did-- he was making conversation with a turkey. One of the things I love most about John is that he's crazy; he'll wear any kind of costume. Several people commented and took pictures and he loved every minute of it.

What a great day.

He's okay!

2009-10-20T20:35:00.002-05:00

The past week or so has been an emotional rollercoaster. My darling brother-in-law, Tom, was very sick with pneumonia and complications resulting from it. He was hospitalized for about a week, some of it in the ICU. Things were kind of bad for a while.

When something like that happens, I always think about the last conversation I had with the person before they got sick, recalling whether it was a good one or not. In this case, it was. Tom and I always tease each other about our politics and sports (we're on opposite ends of the spectrum-- Democrats and Republicans, Red Sox and Yankees) and in true big brother fashion, he knows how to push all my buttons-- and does. But it's always with affection and good feeling.

On Sunday when he was still in the hospital, I got to talk to him again, and I told him I love him. No making fun of our differences this time.

Today he came home from the hospital and all my everyday struggles at work and with life in general seem much smaller. I think I said in a post this summer that we all should make a point to tell those in our lives how much we care for them. Tommy, I'm glad you're safe. Now I don't have to fake cheer for the Yankees any more. :)

Just sublime

2009-10-12T21:44:00.003-05:00

I'm having a fabulous weekend. Took a mini-vacation from work. T and I spent the day together on Friday, went out for a delish lunch at Maxim's, then we boarded the shuttle for our traditional trip to the marathon expo. Saw Katherine Switzer and Hal Higdon, bought only a book and a shirt (look, ma, that's me being a frugalista!)

After a slight auto malfunction which lead to an unplanned run (literally!) to Union Station to pick mom up at Amtrak on Saturday morning (long story....) we had a relaxing day, then went to dinner at Leona's with some friends.

I might as well run the marathon, because it's just as hard to be BFF cheerleader... I'm up all night (well, I fell asleep for about two hours then woke up for good around 3... stared at the ceiling til it was time to call Teresa, wish her a fabulous run and tell her I love her).

Watched the early tv coverage then walked the half-block toTaylor in plenty of time to see the elites go by-- always a thrill-- then my marathoner friends-- even bigger thrill. I get sooo emotional. I felt guilty leaving before the slower runners came by because those are the ones who need the cheering most, but we had a schedule to keep. Took the Blue Line downtown and wound up at Kitty O'Shea's. There's nothing more special than the first glimpse of your best friend's face after she walks in the door after her third consecutive (!!!) Boston Qualifying marathon-- big hugs all around. Uncle Dick was there, too, so we retold the old running stories for about the millionth time (but they're still just as wonderful... except, why does Uncle Dick always bring up August 7, 2005-- my infamous half marathon that ended in the ER at Northwestern?!?!). In the midst of the conversation, T leaned over and said to me, "I couldn't have done it without you." It honestly doesn't get any better than that. That's my medal.

After that, it was on to the theatre to see "Jersey Boys." Watching the look of joy on mom's face as she clapped along to the songs was precious. We all loved the show!! Today, we slept in a bit, had lunch at the Walnut Room, shopped myself silly at Filene's Basement (hey, the frugalista thing only goes so far). Oh yeah, finished the evening tonight by watching the Hawks on tv-- their biggest comeback game ever. And I have another day off tomorrow. Unbelievable.

Something I didn't even know I wanted

2009-09-29T22:13:00.003-05:00

I celebrated my birthday last week. True, 46 puts me closer to 50 than to 40, but it was monumental for another reason-- John actually surprised me with my gift. Now, I love him dearly, but that guy simply doesn't have much of an imagination and my gifts are usually pretty predictable. I'm not complaining because one of his comfort zones just happens to be jewelry-- he definitely ascribes to the "you can't go wrong with sapphires" school of thought.

This year, however, he got me an iPhone (cue the chorus of angels). Why an iPhone? I dunno. I never professed more than a passing interest in one. Sure, a bunch of my friends have one, but since I'm wired (both literally and figuratively) so much at work, I tend to resist being "too connected." Despite myself, it's true love. True addiction.

So far, my favorite apps are of the barnyard variety. I have a cow game (you put them in their pens according to their color-- bovine segregation as Veronica so accurately calls it), a chicken game (sort of a word scramble thing) and something truly miraculous called Sheep Launcher. It requires very little skill and dexterity, which makes it perfect for me.

For the past two days, I've been enamored with listening to police radio from various parts of the country (although I always manage to come back to Chicago-- mostly, I think, because I can visualize the locations they're talking about).

Fun stuff. I don't know how I lived without it. Thank you, honey.

The BEST 5K. Ever.

2009-09-19T11:48:00.004-05:00

Whoever decided to combine hockey with running is a genius. Today we did the Mad Dash To Madison 5K run, in conjunction with the Blackhawks training camp festival. Before the race, Hawks anthem singer Jim Cornelison (I'm probably botching the spelling of his name) treated us to his rendition of the national anthem-- and just like inside the UC, everyone clapped and cheered the entire time. Also pre-race, we got to meet, shake hands with and talk to Stan Mikita, who signed my singlet. What a bit thrill that was. Wish I would've thought enough to get a picture, too.

Race conditions weren't ideal, but they weren't horrible either... the temps were upper 60's, but the humidity was over 75% and the dreaded sun was out. I went out pretty fast, for me (9:40 for the first mile and comparable for the second), but around 2.5 miles, I started to fade-- too much sun, couldn't breathe. So as much as I wanted to go sub-30, it didn't happen today. Finished at 31:50. Ahh, that's okay. I had more fun just soaking up the atmosphere. Hockey's back!!

After the race, there was an open Blackhawks practice to attend. What fun! We had great seats and nothing beats a juicy hotdog and cold beer at 10:00 in the morning. Let's go Hawks!! Regarding the pictures above, I have no idea what happened to big Buff and friends' uniforms-- they look like the glow in the dark and the ice is a weird, spooky color. But it's pretty cool looking, huh?!

Hampster Patrol Incorporated

2009-09-16T18:09:00.005-05:00

Here are some pictures of Baylee (white and gray cat), Sheila (dark cat) and Jessica (redheaded calico cat) gazing longingly at the hampster cage. (The cage is on top of the white storage units.) New friend? Tasty snack? It's up for debate.

Bono!

2009-09-15T20:57:00.002-05:00

On Saturday, we went to Soldier Field to see the U2 concert. Since the blue line isn't running from our stop, we walked to Taylor and took a cab to the bottom of "Mount Roosevelt" and walked the rest of the way.

First order of business was to brave the mobs at the t-shirt stand because I MUST have at least one. The older I get, the less I like crowds.

We weren't able to get tickets together and since I'm the bigger fan, I got the best seat. I was in section 136, row 16, seat 19 (on the aisle, which was a mixed blessing). Luckily, most of the people around me were well behaved, except the Eurotrash couple right next to me. Mr. Eurotrash (with slicked back black hair and way, way too much cologne) and Ms. Eurotrash practically had sex right there in front of me, so intense were their makeout sessions (ummm... to the tune of Sunday Bloody Sunday??). When they weren't probing each other's tonsils, Ms. Eurotrash was flailing around like she had some disorder, thereby nailing me in the boob at least twice with her elbow. My hairy eyeball didn't do much, but luckily she traded seats with her love interest, so I was relieved.

John was up in the 338 section, but he said his seats were very good too. And he didn't have the racy seatmates that I had.

What can I possibly say about the concert? I screamed uncontrollably when I first laid eyes on Bono. As always, they put on a terrific show, no holds barred. Although their latest CD isn't really my favorite, the songs are much better live. I was riveted and the two hours or so passed in a heartbeat.

Finding John afterwards wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be, but getting out of the stadium was as difficult as I thought it would be. The worst part of it was on the west side of the Field Museum before you went through the underpass onto the museum campus area. What a bottleneck! We had to walk the whole way to Harrison and Wabash (or thereabouts) to get a cab, so that kind of sucked.

In all, though, what an amazing night. Wow.

Where the Wild Things Are

2009-09-11T17:19:00.002-05:00

We didn't start the day thinking we'd get new pets. It just sort of happened that way. Last Saturday we were in Schaumburg shopping-- Woodfield Mall and the like. Before going home, John mentioned that he needed to stop in the pet store to get some supplies for his fish tank. It's a big store and one we don't go to very often, so I opted to come in, too. Right inside the door were hampsters. Not just ANY hampsters-- Siberian Dwarf hampsters. We haven't had hampsters since we were children. So we looked. And they ran in their wheels... gosh, like little marathoners! I felt a weird connection. John was grinning ear to ear. So we bought two. The hampsters were cheap. Their "habitat" (a fancy word for a plastic playland) was not so cheap. They're both males. The smaller dark furred guy we named Jack and the chubby, white furred guy is Teddy (yeah, I admit to carrying my Kennedy fascination a bit too far). The habitat is bi-level... the upper level is reached thru a tube that runs from the lower level, on the outside of their cage. The enclosed running wheel is attached to the outside of the upper level. It's an abode well suited to the hampster version of Better Homes and Gardens. For a short anxious while we thought our hampsters may be not smart enough to climb the tube, but they mastered it after a day or so. There's only been one bite (Teddy on John-- I'm not brave enough to paw at them just yet). They're cute and a lot of fun to watch. The cats think so too.

Goodbye Teddy

2009-08-29T08:27:00.004-05:00

I watched Ted Kennedy's memorial service last night and sobbed like it was one of my own relatives or friends. This morning I'll watch the funeral and do the same. I never met Senator Kennedy, nor can I say things about him as eloquently as others on CNN have continuously said. Yet, he's touched me. I grew up in Massachusetts. Every classroom had a picture of JFK. Ted Kennedy was a senator for more years than I've been alive. As a child, I recall someone-- relative, family friend, not sure who-- commenting at every infraction (be it a bad pothole, the cost of milk that week)-- "I'm going to write Senator Kennedy!" It instilled in me a sense that, whatever the problem was, Senator Kennedy could probably fix it. So I guess that's my connection to him, my enduring memory. Tenuous, yes, but nevertheless, a feeling that's been with me my entire life. Whether you agreed with his politics or lifestyle, there's no denying how much he and his family have given to our country. Goodbye, Senator Kennedy. There will never be another one like you.

A weirdly exotic red flower

2009-08-20T18:23:00.002-05:00

This is growing alongside John's pond in the backyard. I figured I'd better take a picture of it because they don't last long. I have no idea what it's called, but it's huge-- close to dinner plate size. Pretty cool, huh?

IKEA, I'm glad to see ya!

2009-08-19T11:55:00.002-05:00

I think I watch too much HGTV. It can get me into trouble. This time, it is leading to a mini-renovation of the master bathroom. I say "mini" because we're leaving the floor, tile and tub as-is-- eventually, I want to gut the place and go higher-end, but not until we finish wrestling with and conquering the BIG cost of last year's kitchen redo.

So where can you get a fun and funky, but not especially costly new look? Why, IKEA of course! Off we go on Sunday. Just to look. Who am I kidding? In situations such as these, "just looking" most often turns into "let's do it now." I'm pretty decisive when I see what I want. It's a line of their bath "furniture" with a very unpronounceable and equally unspellable Swedish name, so I'll just call it modern and sleek, with birch wood and aluminum. Oh yeah, and we got some of those yummy lemon cookies while we were there.

John successfully tore out the old sink, vanity, medicine cabinet/mirror, towel rod, and over-toilet cabinet on Sunday. Then we painted. Or rather, he painted. I'm not allowed to paint walls and ceilings because I make a mess (fine arts degrees be damned). I did do the trim, though, last night. Looks pretty good. The wall color is sort of a deep aqua and the trim is off-white.

Of course, the beauty of modular furniture from IKEA is that you can combine pieces for many unique and personal looks. The downside of modular furniture is when you forget to buy all the pieces you need for that unique, personal look. So John, bless his soul, will trek again to IKEA tomorrow to get a few more things. We're both slightly afraid of the sink install, but we'll have our contractor's number at the ready, just in case a bad thing happens. In any event, I'm looking forward to having a working bathroom again. For now, I trek downstairs and use the sink in the half bath-- I reluctantly shower in John's bathroom under the risk of catching a fatal disease. His bathroom, I think, was once featured in Squalor Today magazine.

Once everything is done, I'll post some pictures.

Rest in peace, Eunice

2009-08-11T08:44:00.002-05:00

I just read that Eunice Kennedy Shriver passed away this morning. Yeah, I know they have their problems, but I'm a huge fan of the Kennedy family (growing up in Massachusetts probably had something to do with it). But, just look at what this woman accomplished in her 88 years on earth. We should all be so giving. I hope her family, friends and associates take comfort in her life well lived... lots of people think they make the world a better place, but she really did.

Look who John's sleeping with

2009-08-07T16:42:00.004-05:00

Is this a Kodak moment, or what? Apparently, Baylee can tolerate his snoring better than I can!

Progress... a little bit

2009-07-29T18:21:00.004-05:00

So today I forced myself to paint for 45 minutes. My distaste for this painting is almost a physical thing. Nonetheless, I'll complete it. My thought process during today's session:

- Gotta ground these dudes soon. The fact that they're floating is really starting to bother me.

- Quit fussin' with the details! The two smallest figures are less than 8 inches tall. No way is every tendon gonna be perfect.

- Gotta put another coat of green on the negative space (and the two-tone thing's gonna go). The unevenness of it is distracting me.

- This one's NOT fun.

- One day I should learn how to use a camera. I'm a sucky photographer and if I could avoid making a bad painting look worse when I shoot it, it would probably do my psyche a world of good.

On a completely different subject... I discovered coconut M&Ms today. Yum.

A race, an orphan and the band

2009-07-27T09:02:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was a busy day. We started by running the Teb's Troops March on Melanoma 5K on the lakefront. Because of various issues related to the UTI I had earlier in the month, I hadn't run at all in two weeks, so I had no idea how I'd fare. The weather conditions were less than ideal, too. Temps were cool enough (mid 70's) but the sun was bright (nasty, nasty sun-- especially along the lakefront) and the humidity was in the 80% range. They switched the course last minute--- usually it goes south and back, but they changed it to a northern course. And I was wearing an even-numbered bib, which I hate. Sigh. But the first mile felt very, very good and I felt the familiar euphoria set in. Finished it in 9:32, which is tremendous for me (I'm a slower than average runner). Second mile, I was still clockin' along at a 10:18 pace. That's when the bottom dropped out. Legs and back felt fine, but the heat was starting to get to me and my breathing was off. So I slowed. Walked in places. The third mile or so was a disappointing 11:45. Official results aren't in yet, but according to my Garmin, I finished in 32:19. Ahhhh, not my best but given the circumstances, I'll take it. Teresa, however, placed second overall in the women's race. She's lightning fast, but not arrogant or snooty about it. Go Teresa!

After a quick shower, it was off again to see the movie "Orphan." Sitting in front of us was a woman with... what?!... a little boy probably 5 or 6 years old. I'm not sure, but I don't think it's very good parenting to allow your small child to see another small child character graphically bludgeon a nun to death with a hammer-- among other things. Mother of the Year helpfully placed her hands over the kid's eyes and ears to spare him from the horror onscreen, but the kid was loudly wimpering. After a glare from me and a not-subtle comment, they moved further down the aisle. Now the little boy could be further terrified by the next scene of gore and could distract and annoy other appropriately-aged viewers. After about 45 minutes they left the theater, hopefully to see the flick about the talking guinea pigs. This is one of the many reasons why I don't go to the movies very often. People can be so stupid.

Finally, we hit Taste of Lincoln Avenue. Again, more stupid people, this time wall-to-wall drunk Lincoln Park Trixies. After eating some very bad potato pancakes and some very tasty chicken pot stickers, we settled in to watch 7th Heaven. You remember my crushes?! About halfway through the show, Keith took off his shirt. He's very small in stature... very young looking. But his skin's perfect. I was mentally reviewing my artist's anatomy syllabus to identify all of the clearly defined muscles and bones in his torso. But... gosh, he's little. I wasn't sure whether I should be lusting after him or offering him a sippy cup and a teddy bear.

Best goodie bag ever!

2009-07-25T09:39:00.002-05:00

Yesterday we picked up our race packet and goodie bag for the Teb's Troops March on Melanoma 5K race we're doing on Sunday. In addition to a gorgeous course and great cause, this race has an impressive goodie bag. Let's look:

FULL size products: Rice Krispie Treats bar, Vaseline Intensive Rescue Healing Hand Cream, Lipton Cup-a-Soup Chicken Noodle (4 packet box), Lipton White Tea To Go (10 packet box), Knorr Pasta Sides Cheesy Cheddar, Lipton Green Tea (18 tea bags), Vaseline Lip Therapy, Carmex, Skippy Creamy Peanut Butter.

Trial Size products: single serving bowl of Kellog's Frosted Flakes, Purse Pack of Q-Tips (30 swabs), Axe Shower Gel, Axe Deodorant, Dove Cool Moisture Shampoo, Dove Go Fresh Conditioner, Degree Deodorant, Caress Body Wash.

Feels like I just made a trip to the grocery store!

As for the race, seeing that I haven't run at all in almost two weeks because of remnants from my bout with a UTI, the jury's out on how well (or poorly) I'll do.

Thursday Night at Wrigley Field

2009-07-18T09:58:00.002-05:00

Thursday night we went to Wrigley Field to see Billy Joel and Elton John. Our seats were just to the right of home plate and about halfway up-- would've been amazing for a Cubs game-- but Elton and Billy were mere specks in the outfield. Thank goodness for jumbotron! Still, it would've been worth the $55 a piece just to be at Wrigley Field on a beautiful summer evening. Temps were cool and breezy and I thoroughly enjoyed the twilight air-- seeing just a peek of the lake and the setting sun glimmering off the high rises. Amazing!

What can I say about the music? These are songs I grew up with. I remember feeling oh so badass senior year at Bishop Carroll HS when we sang aloud the lyrics to "Only the Good Die Young" in the cafeteria at a Friday night dance. One of the first things I drew in college was a graphite rendering of the cover of the "Glass Houses" album (yep, vinyl in those days). And Elton John-- who didn't watch Princess Diana's funeral and shed a tear during "Candle In the Wind"?

They performed for over 3 hours. And I only spent 18 minutes of that time waiting in line for the ladies' room. The only bad part of the evening was navigating through the crowd as everyone headed toward the Red Line after the show... it got a little claustrophobic.

And, yes, I was one of those idiots who actually paid $40 for a t-shirt that I'll hardly ever wear. Everything's a shopping opportunity.

Piano Men

2009-07-16T12:23:00.003-05:00

I'm very excited. Tonight we go to Wrigley Field to see Billy Joel and Elton John in concert. I just read on Wikipedia that in 1970 Billy Joel tried to commit suicide by drinking furniture polish. Brilliant musician? Definitely. Smart man? Not so much...

New Glasses

2009-07-10T17:40:00.004-05:00

Yesterday my new glasses arrived. Unlike most people, I really like wearing glasses. Sure, they're annoying when it's rainy and they fog up, or when I'm running, but for the most part, I view them as 1) a fashion accessory and 2) another shopping opportunity. Faced with a deliciously wide selection this time around (Kenneth Cole trunk show at the optical place downstairs in our building at work!!), I was completely unable to choose just one. So I got two. And that was a concession. What do you think? I personally like the black and white ones best-- the other ones are purple metallic but the color doesn't show up well in the photo. Excuse the grim face... I'm not usually that serious, but it was early morning and I hadn't had my Diet Pepsi yet. But, hey, my hair looks kinda cute and that certainly doesn't happen every day.

All's Fair in Love and Stamp Shopping

2009-07-08T14:30:00.001-05:00

I haven't bought a greeting card in over 5 years. One of my favorite and most rewarding hobbies is making hand-made cards, using mostly rubber stamps. This morning I was perusing the website of one of my favorite local stores, Stamp On In (www.stamponin.net-- Chicagoans, you should go there) in Lincoln Park, when I saw a set of stamps that I HAD to have. So I immediately send the link to Dean, who agreed that the stamps were indeed beyond wonderful.

Moments later, we decided to take a cab there at lunchtime. The store is owned by a guy named Terry and his partner, Rick. Rick teaches most of the classes and designs a lot of their display cards. He's immensely talented and I'm, quite frankly, in complete awe of him. This man ROCKS. Seriously. Once we got to the store (only a $12 cab ride!) I focused my attention on finding "the" set, while Dean lingered at the front of the store, looking at this and that. Suddenly, there it was. #99109 Patterned Pets, by Inkadinkado. They had ONE set left. A generous, kind person would defer to her friend. I am not that generous or kind. I snatched it in my hot little hands and called it MINE! I feel sort of bad about it, but I'll get over it. Fear not, though. Dean did not suffer-- she found plenty of other tidbits to purchase. We had a nice time, and must've told Rick about a million gazillion times how creative and talented he is. Stamp groupies!!!

A strange coincidence

2009-07-02T19:04:00.001-05:00

So, today was a slow day at work. Veronica was standing by my desk and we were chatting. Veronica knows more about celebrities than anyone I know, so the conversation often turns in that direction. We were discussing the King of Pop's upcoming funeral when my phone rang. The display eerily read Mr. Jackson. Michael? From the grave? No. Melvin. From the Help Desk.

Sick Days

2009-07-01T14:18:00.002-05:00

I've been home from work for the past two days with a urinary tract infection. Here's what I've learned:

1. There are so many random things on television. Yesterday I watched about 2 straight hours of a game show on Discovery called "Cash Cab." Strangely addicting.
2. Cipro is a strong antibiotic. I haven't eaten a full meal in over two days. Maybe I'll win the most weight lost in one week at Weight Watchers tomorrow. Lookin' for a silver lining here.
3. I still cry like a baby when I'm sick. I still think I will get every side effect of every medication. I abuse Webmd.com.
4. I truly miss the social aspects of work. Today's Knitting Day and I'm missing it. Our resident superstar Aidan has been attending knitting lately and we all bask in his glory. Poor Aidan usually spends a portion of his lunchtime guiding the rest of us through our knitting woes. I come to knitting on the short bus. I dare not work on the crucial part of my sweater at home without Aidan to rescue me if (when) I need it.
5. Certain music can make you feel better. Today I've listened to the following tunes on my iPod:
Cellophane by 7th Heaven - crushes do not die when you are ill
Amanda by Boston - nostalgic!
Chelsea Dagger by The Fratellis. Song played during Blackhawks goals this year. This one's guaranteed to induce happiness.
Trapped in Your Lies by Godhead. Their best song ever.
Sweet Child 'O Mine by Guns 'N Roses. The nostalgia thing again.
Chicken Huntin' by Insane Clown Posse. Very un-PC lyrics, but catchy. Thanks, Mason, for introducing me and Bock to this one.
Get On Your Boots by U2. Everything's better with Bono.
6. I think the cats resent me being home. They will not let me nap. I'm so tired I'm delirious.

Unplugged?

2009-06-28T08:30:00.003-05:00

Today John wants to go to the Strawberry Festival in Long Grove. Long Grove's an historic village less than a hour northwest (I guess, I'm kind of bad with directions) of Chicago. It has nice little shops (shopping!) and some quaint restaurants. Also appearing at the Fest today is-- surprise-- 7th Heaven (I picked a really good band to crush on... it seems they're performing at almost EVERY local fest, so they'll be where we are without much effort on our part).

However, I jumped on their website and noticed that this particular show is going to be unplugged. Unplugged? Not sure I'm going to like that. To me, "unplugged" brings back memories of second grade, sitting in a circle while the teacher with the shag haircut gently strummed "Puff the Magic Dragon." No. I don't want my concerts to be gentle. Although I usually shun excess noise in all its forms, concerts are different. They're supposed to be loud. Boisterous. High energy. Not musical Ambien. I expect to leave with a headache, a throat raw from screaming and possibly a sunburn.

The jury's out on this one. And I don't know what to wear (but that's a whole other crisis).

Meet Bock

2009-06-27T12:06:00.004-05:00

I really like chickens. It all started several years ago. At work, we were between directors. While it was nice not having anyone micromanaging your every move, it was equally frustrating to not have a "higher power" to go to for authoritative decisions. So one day I *bought* us a boss-- meet Bock Bock, Chief Marketing Chicken. Bock does a lot for our department-- he appears at meetings, he tests the online registration form for our seminars, he has an official bio -- went to Purdue University (of course). One of Bock's key functions is a symbolic and morale boosting one; he is responsible for enhancing birthday celebrations within the Marketing Department. On the day of a birthday, with much fanfare Bock dons his festive birthday hat and spends the day at the desk of the lucky birthday celebrant. It's a huge and greatly anticipated honor. On Thursday, we celebrated Joe's birthday. Bock played his role as expected and was duly returned to his "office" at my desk at the end of the day. There are no words to describe the visual of the serious-minded Director of Marketing walking down the hall carrying a stuffed chicken in a party hat. It was, as they say, priceless.

Any progress is some progress...

2009-06-24T16:01:00.004-05:00

Spent about 3 hours with the painting today. I learned my lesson with 10 p.m. (see link to my online gallery) so I decided to deal with the negative space BEFORE the actual images are finished. I always come into the painting with a preconceived notion for the negative space-- it's kind of intuitive. For this one, I chose Permanent Green Light right out of the tube (I use Golden Acrylics). I rarely use raw color, but this just felt right. The slight color shift towards the three figures on the left was an impulse, though. Nothing's ever too "precious" for me to experiment with, especially at this stage of the game. Sometimes it pays off. Sometimes it doesn't.

I was taking a break... just staring at it while listening to some Van Halen when I decided to go for it. Mixed the PGL with Hansa Yellow Medium. It's subtle, probably too subtle. Not sure if I like it. And the green's nowhere near flat enough yet. I'll live with it for a while before reaching a final conclusion-- I can always take it back to the original color. But at least with the background established, I'll understand more about the proper tonality for the figures. I fixed some of the bad contours with the green paint, while I made some of it worse. I do plan on grounding them, too, at the end. In all, it's nice to take a few steps forward.

Talkin' hockey (or not) with the book club ladies

2009-06-23T08:20:00.002-05:00

Last night after work, I went to book club. We eat first at Jury's on Lincoln. At dinner, someone noted that I had rejoined society after the Penguins' Stanley Cup win (snaps, girls, for actually knowing WHO won the Cup). I was about to enthusiastically launch into a recap of the 2009 playoffs when I realized that these folks really did not want to explore the wonders of Evgeni Malkin with me. Where are the people who *do* want to go there?!?! :(

The book discussion was lively, as usual. We talked about Gang Leader for a Day by Sudhir Venkatesh. The general consensus was that gangs are bad and poverty sucks. Of course, we were much more erudite than that; these are smart women I hang with. The highlight may have been someone's observation (perhaps Jackie's?) that the brutal infighting among gang members is very similar to what goes on among women who sell Mary Kay Cosmetics. That's priceless. That's why I like these folks so much.

It was also fabulous to see Suellen. She's going through some challenges and is handling them with her usual wisdom and wit. We could all learn a lot from Suellen's "grace under pressure." And her iPod playlist completely blows me away-- love ya, sjm!!

312, singing, dancing and running

2009-06-21T17:04:00.005-05:00

Today was Summerfest in Lincoln Park. Yep, I slid into groupie mode once again and had another foray into 7th Heaven. Today's count-- two band members spoke directly to me during the show and one looked at me. Right as the concert was starting, lead singer Keith Semple said something like, "your only job this afternoon is to smile the whole time... like YOU are!" and he pointed at me. Yep, I was grinnin' from ear to ear because I was having a supremely good time. I like dark-haired musical little Irish boys a whole lot. Yesindeedydo.

Later Nick Cox said to me, "oh,YOU know this one!" after I screamed when he started singing The Outfield's "Your Love." I have absolutely no musical ability at all, but I understand that it's very hard for most guys to sing the high notes, so I appreciate that talent when I see and hear it. Wowzie. And I love that song.

Finally, during another song, the blond surfer-looking guy with the really cut muscles (I think his name is Mark) caught me looking at him and grinned. This groupie stuff is a lot of fun!! Maybe next time we see them, I can summon the courage to actually go up to them after the show and talk to them. Maybe. John thinks my whole regression to age 15 is the ultimate in hilariousness. Whatever!!!! :)

Food at the Fest was kind of disappointing... not a whole lot there. But they had cold 312s to drink, so I had a couple of them. Saw another fun band-- The Breakfast Club-- who did 80's covers, complete with punk hair and animal-print costumes. Singing and dancing for almost 3 hours straight was a lot of work, and I'm nearly deaf from being so close to the speakers, but it was a blast! We walked thru the zoo a bit, too.

Came home and felt really, really guilty for not running all weekend, so I jumped on the treadmill for a 5K. Blah.... drinking, singing, dancing does NOT make for a good run. I felt every bit of my 45 years and then some. But at least I did it. I'll take that for now. After 4 weeks of very mediocre runs, I'm feeling a bit disappointed in my efforts, so I need to somehow reinvigorate that portion of my life. I think I need to sign up for a race.

Tattoo me, part 2

2009-06-20T19:17:00.006-05:00

So we're there and back. How do you like?? Ha-- fake!! It's not real; it's just a sleeve. But it fooled two of the tattoo artists at the show. And it almost fooled John. The first thing he said to me when he saw me was "that better be a henna thing that washes off...." We had a blast. The other picture above is of our new friend Reverend Goat, a tattoo artist from Colorado who did some beautiful work. Other highlights included watching a man get his nipple pierced and a guy getting his cheek (right under his eye) pierced. We also saw a man with three gauges in each ear, and another guy with nails going from his eyebrow to his upper cheekbone (essentially "caging" his eyes-- his trips to the optometrist must be very interesting). Both Veronica and I really, really wanted more tattoos, but we resisted. I know what I want for my second tattoo and I'm 99% sure of where I want it, so it'll most likely happen some time this summer. Stay tuned...

Tattoo me?

2009-06-20T08:04:00.006-05:00

Today Veronica and I are going to the Tattoo and Body Art Expo at Navy Pier. Mom, Dawn and Mary all jumped down my throat with horror.... "are you going to get a TATTOO?!?!" Ummm, I already have one (see above). I got it at Jade Dragon after I ran the marathon in 2006. I also have a diamond stud in my left nostril (no, it didn't hurt... but the tattoo did-- immensely). C'mon, pleeeeze... this stuff is so mainstream nowadays. I do want another tattoo, but probably not this weekend. Our intention is merely sightseeing. Freaks and weirdos-- may there be lots of them.

My social life is really taking a toll on my running this week. Lately I can't focus on more than one thing at a time. I remember in grad school at IUP I saw an art film called Koyaanisqatsi. That's a Hopi word that, loosely translated, means "life out of balance." That's how I feel now. And I'm a libra-- we're supposed to be completely balanced. Sheesh. Must fix.

Haven't worked on the painting in a few days, either (see June 16 post below), but I have a remedy in mind for the crappy underdrawing. I'm going to thin some gesso and essentially white it out, then redraw it with pastel. Take my time this time. Follow the principals of detail that jazz me so much.

So... not really running much, not really painting much... but having lots of good times with good friends. Looking at it that way, it's not a bad thing, is it? I'll work through the balance.