There’s been so much talk this spring about the rain. Many people seem to feel that we’ve had an excessive number of stormy and wet days. Until recently, I believe, there hadn’t been more than an instance or two of our stringing more than three rainless days together since March. Or something like that. Rain doesn’t bother me too much, especially since I’m finally having some necessary work done to my house to ensure it remains dry when it rains. The wind, though, is a different story.
I was thinking about wind and why it makes me uncomfortable and I think it’s because wind is 3-D. I mean, if 3-D is defined as being discernible with three different and unique senses, that is. Is that what 3-D means? Wind is audible, visible and physical, which is kind of a lot, don’t you think? I don’t know if it’s a childhood spent watching The Wizard of Oz every year or what, but wind frightens me. It’s powerful.
It’s going to sound completely ridiculous, but I’ve been working on becoming more comfortable with the wind. For a long time, actually. I know wind and change are partners in moving life along and I’ve gotten better at swaying when in a gust, instead of going with my usual response of digging in and refusing to let go. I’m a work in progress. Mid-gust, shall we say?
One recent change that I’m trying to relax into is the diminishment of family dinner nights. I think it’s more a function of the season than a complete breakdown of family time, so I’m tolerating it. Time will tell, but for now I’m going to cook when I feel like it and continue to make an attempt to prepare meals that can be reheated or repurposed. Case in point, last night’s baked ham with scalloped potatoes and broccoli, became the foundation for a pasta with cubed ham, peas, arugula and grated cheese. Tomorrow I plan to eat some leftover scalloped potatoes with poached eggs. Is it morning yet?
Has the rain or wind impacted your mood? How old were you when your parent stopped regularly cooking dinner?
I wrote a piece for CivMix about attending my very first Pride Parade, but wanted to share some of the photos I took here. It was a wonderfully joyous day and I was so happy to see and feel the love that was present. And, for the record, I’m there for my LGBTQ friends every single day. Love, Silvia
My body has been hurting and I’ve been avoiding running for the last few weeks. My mileage is down and I have two more races before June is over and I know it is going to be a struggle. My feet and hips have been really problematic, although generally not at the same time, and I’ve been trying to be kind to myself and accepting of yoga and long walks as a substitute for a run. It hasn’t been easy, though.
Last night, finally, felt different. I had done a fair amount of yoga over the weekend and spent every possible moment outdoors. My body wasn’t quite as achy as it had been and a late afternoon massage with a focus on those areas that have given me the most discomfort left me feeling loose. A drizzly rain on a warm evening beckoned, rather than discouraged, as I changed into exercise clothes and taking a moment to roll a little CBD oil on my hips.
I located a good playlist on Applemusic, using “Stormy Monday Blues” as my search term and scored with one that opened with Led Zeppelin and was jammed with Stevie Ray, The Allman Brothers and Albert King. I started to feel excited to get outside and the tautness in my quads feels finally like an itch to flex instead of a request to rest. I was ready.
I left my house in a light rain which eventually became steady and soaking. My feet felt pretty good in my old inserts and my hips hurt only enough to annoy me. The air smelled fresh and I realized I was smiling. Big. It isn’t always easy, but often it’s worth it.
How do you keep on track with exercise? What do you when your body protests against your efforts?
A couple of days ago an image came across my Facebook feed* that I couldn’t stop thinking about. It was a photo. Of a sandwich, of all things. What would make a sandwich so compelling? Well, it was a fried soft shell crab BLT served with chipotle mayo and poblano slaw. What else do I need to say?
Knowing that soft shell crab season is over in the blink of an eye, I decided last night to make my way to New World Bistro Bar for dinner. Of course, me being me, I called first to confirm that the sandwich was on the evening’s menu and that there would be one available when I arrived. You do that, too, right?
Anyway, I settled in at the bar and asked Nick to make me a Stoli gimlet, a cocktail that I thought would go swimmingly with my dinner. As has been my experience without fail, my drink was perfectly executed and delivered refreshingly cold and slightly tart. Yum.I sipped my drink and chatted with Nick about travel and music, two favorite topics for both of us, until my date arrived and we placed our dinner orders. I tweaked mine a little, opting to skip the roll and save my carb intake for the hand cut fries as my side.
A short while later I was rewarded with the gorgeous plate you see here. The crab had a meaty body and crunchy legs and was everything I had hoped it would be – and, seriously, how often in life does that happen? The mayo had a pleasant heat to it and the slaw provided a great crunch to the dish. In place of the roll, I had a combination of lettuces and some cooked greens, which were a lovely surprise.
Get it while you can, people. Tell Nick I sent you.
In the past decade there was a run of not so great holiday weekends in my life. There had been discoveries and recollections which had left in their wake a slight dread when a three or four-day holiday weekend approached. A good time for all was not guaranteed since unexpected and bad news seemed to arrive as reliably as holiday weekend sales on new cars and large appliances – and I’m not interested in buying any of those things. I’m good, thanks.
This recent extended weekend, though, was different. There was a loose plan for a quick overnight getaway in the Berkshires. Cocktails in a cool and semi-swanky bar bid adieu to the work week and hello to a mini vaca in a delicious way. Museum passes were borrowed from the public library for free admission to a museum that I’ve wanted to visit for some time. The forecast changed from rainy to sunny, a positive change that provided an obvious example of how things can also unexpectedly improve.
Strolling through farmers markets and sipping a Bellini on a sunny terrace are two of the most perfect things to do under blue skies. Especially with someone who treats you well and makes you laugh.
The weekend rolled on with a full morning on the deck with the Sunday NYT, followed by a party with interesting people and a fire which left my hair and clothing pungent with the smell of wood smoke. Spreading four bags of mulch and planting the flowers and herbs from Saturday’s market was Monday’s warmup to a five mile run – with an al fresco nap sandwiched between the more vigorous activities. The grill is definitely back in the rotation and I can’t believe I forgot how easy it is cook dinner when there are not pots or pans left behind to scrub. Ah, the almost summer vibe is strong…
I don’t know that I’ll ever completely forget the bad holiday weekends I’ve experienced, but I also don’t know that’s necessarily a negative thing. We should remember important things and lessons learned, especially when they help one to appreciate their current situation.
Memorial Day Weekend 2019 was, at last, a completely sunny, relaxing, fun, leisurely and most of all, happy, stretch of days. I hope yours was similar.*
*If it wasn’t, keep the faith. There’s always next year – or July 4th.
Working towards my goal of 25 half marathons by the time I’m 55 has me hustling and signing up for races beyond the Capital Region. Earlier this year that meant south to Sleepy Hollow, N.Y. and yesterday I went northwest to Northville, N.Y. for the inaugural running of the Sacandaga Half Marathon. While both were a bit of a drive, I’m really glad to have experienced each of them because they were just what I like in an event – small, community supported and scenic.
The drive Sunday morning provided an array of weather conditions- sun followed by rain and finally clouds, which ended up being ideal. Parking and bib pick up were as easy as I’ve ever seen. Small races really are awesome! At the 9:00 start Chrissy and I hung towards the back of pack of maybe 350 racers and committed to simply enjoying the journey. Goal set.
The course was pretty, particularly when the lake was in view. The hills were at times slightly more aggressive than rolling, but I observed that while we may not be especially fast on our feet, we eat hills. Seriously, neither of us really change pace when the hill is an incline and I was really proud of our strength. Running Muni all winter long definitely helps.
The last hour of the run was a challenge as the sun broke through and the humidity increased. Fortunately, water and Gatorade stops were plentiful and the oranges between miles 6 and 7 were a Godsend giving me a good burst of energy to tackle the remaining distance.
This was my first long run with my new inserts and my hips felt great, but the arch of my left foot was screaming. The thought of taking my shoes off was the motivation for my last mile. I crossed the line in 4th place for my division, but honestly I think there were only 6 of us in that particular group.
Post-Race we hit up the Sacandaga Kitchenette where we had fantastic breakfast sandwiches with a side order of hand cut fries. My ham, egg and cheddar on a roll was in my top 3 of breakfast sandwiches ever. It was absolutely delicious and the vibe in this ultra casual spot was great. We left town with hearts and bellies full. Next up – June’s New Paltz Challenge!
I can’t believe it’s already been two weeks since I spent Easter in Ireland. It feels like it was just yesterday when we stayed in the back garden until Easter Sunday became Easter Monday when the wine finally became more persuasive about us going to bed than the air was about begging us to stay awake. In my heart it was just a moment ago.
The weather in Dublin Easter weekend was, in the vernacular, brilliant. The morning I arrived there had been a chill in the air that manifested as a moody fog, but as the hours, and days, passed the sun became stronger and the skies a more saturated shade of blue. Perfect holiday weather.
I spent a couple of days walking for hours and hours on end, to the point that I felt myself limping. I stayed fairly near Phoenix Park, which is a tremendous plot of land that sprawls into an irregularly shaped garden with a zoo, playing fields and picnic areas. There are gorgeous trails, soft underfoot, that beckon to be run upon and explored.
One day, I took the northern piece and wound my way through meadows and wooded areas, seeing blooming trees and flowers, herds of wild deer and a cow-filled pasture. The next, I ran the southern piece on some of the most beautiful terrain I’ve ever experienced, wide paths lined by leafy trees with wood chips to cushion my feet. Magical, even with the nearly constant discomfort in my hips and feet forcing me to rein it in and not push myself too hard.
The slower pace left me with plenty of time to reflect. How lucky was I to have these hours that belonged only to me? To be outdoors breathing and smelling and seeing? Are there people who take this gift for granted?
It’s been a week now since I left Ireland. In an odd way it feels like it was forever ago that I boarded the bus to the airport to come back to the life that I know and love. Or maybe I should say “return.” There’s no going back, just forward with appreciation and knowledge.