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.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Love and loss
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
John F. Kennedy
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.
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.
Monday, November 21, 2011
some things I did not do well today....
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Stranger than fiction
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Finding inspiration
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.
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.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Let me tell you about my birthday weekend...
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Linda's rules of shopping
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."
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."
Friday, September 2, 2011
Like Nike said, just do it
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....
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....
Monday, August 22, 2011
Sports everywhere for me, please
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.
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.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
An eventful couple of days...
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
on the death of books
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.
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.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
It's been a long freakin' time!
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.
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.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
partner in pain
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!!!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
what sustains me
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.
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.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
renewal
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.
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.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Hockey Weekend in America
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
embracing imperfection
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.
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.
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