small things...

The elusive plum...

Well no one was able to quite get that last one.  I knew it would be tricky, but I also know there are some good "foodies" out there so I knew you were up to the task and some guesses came close.  Here is another photo of the fruit in question:

The completely correct guess would have been: Pineapple, Swiss Chard and Italian Prune Plum!

Since my lovely and talented friend Rebecca Rothman, straight outta Phoenix, was the first to guess plum in addition to the other two - she's the big winner!  As promised, there will be a prize mailed to her this weekend.  I'll post a photo of said prize after I hear she's received it. Thanks for playing to the rest of you!  We'll see what shows up in tomorrow's box - perhaps we'll play again...?

Mulling big questions

Last night I took a walk after work, as I'd promised myself I would when I turned off my alarm clock earlier that morning and snoozed a bit longer.  It was hot and muggy out and the air felt thick and pressured. When I walk or run I often play out conversations I'm thinking of having with someone, would like to have with someone, or know that I won't have, but will feel better if I get to "say" my piece.  I've been thinking about contacting the bereavement center at the hospice we used to meet with a grief counselor and so last night I was thinking about what I might say to explain how I've been feeling lately.

As I mulled over just HOW I've been feeling lately I realized that I might be embroiled in an EXISTENTIAL CRISIS!?!  For real. Maybe.  No I think I am. 

Luckily for me I believe that crises are opportunities for major change.  A paradigm shift, perhaps. While our first inclination might be to hide, withdraw or ignore this type of crisis until it "hopefully" blows over, if we face it and try to answer the questions the crisis puts before us we might get to a place we never knew was possible.

I have no plan.  Just to keep moving forward. 

In the meantime...

I've been sorting through a lot of thoughts this week.  Living inside my head a lot and having a more difficult time getting those thoughts out.  But I'm working on it!  I had a check up this week which went reasonably well.  Upside is that I'm healthy!  The downer was that my doctor was also my mom's doctor prior to her cancer treatment and hadn't heard that she'd died.  After I told her we spoke for a little then she left while I changed into my gown.  When she returned she began to cry.  It was short, but difficult.  I guess that will continue to happen from time to time with people who were not close enough to be "in the loop" but still a part of mom's life.  sigh. Oh, also, my doctor told me I need more protein and I need to take yoga.  Bring on the meat and the shavasnas!

In regards to the title above, I really meant this post to be a placeholder.  I need some time to sort through these thoughts I'm having and so I wanted to share some images as a way to reach out and say "hi! I'm still here!"

Every Saturday I pick up a box of produce from a little grocery store in Rogers Park. I never know ahead of time what I'm going to get, but it's always full of great stuff.  My goal every week is to eat everything that comes in that box.  It takes a lot of planning actually and I haven't actually accomplished this goal yet.  Maybe this week will be the week!  Here are some of the treats in my box this week see if you can guess what they are:

The first to guess all 3 correctly wins a prize!

(If someone can guess all 3 plus knows the type of #3 - you'll beat out any general guesses! Does anyone think this is as fun a game as I do? Sarah P.?)

Watch out for Monkeys

A good friend is someone who waits to cheer you on when you cross the finish line.

This is what I thought Sunday morning as I finished a 5k race and heard my name being cheered by my friends Peggy and Simona.  The three of us recently formed a seriously serious running club which we have seriously named “The Monkeyslayers”.  (My apologies to S & P if you did not want this info out J)  This name came from a triathlon Simona and I did last summer that is full of women empowerment and fancy inspirational mantras like “I am elegantly excellent.”  If you know me and/or Simona and/or Simona’s husband Drew you might guess that feeling elegantly excellent was not remotely motivational but rather kind of annoying.  So we (actually I think Drew, who was cheering us on with my mom, is responsible) came up with our own mantra that had to do with monkey slaying – not the cute cuddly kind of monkey, but the hanging-on-your-back-keeping-you-down-kind of monkey.  And chanting in your brain, “I am a monkey slayer!!!” was way more hilarious and heart pumping then any other option.

So recently Peggy, Simona and I discovered that we shared an interest in running races and decided it was a good goal to get together and to do so regularly.  We agreed that each of us would run at our own pace, but the first two to cross would wait for the last to cross. 

The course itself was nice, full of nice people and on a beautiful sunny morning.  I faced my first monkey just after mile 1.  I had started to feel a little overheated and my anxious mind began its beat.  “What if I pass out?”… “What if I’m actually sick and that’s why I’m tired?”… “I should have my name/contact info on my body in case I pass out so someone can find my loved ones” … “Am I dizzy?? I think I’m dizzy

Then I heard from across the grass, ‘WAY TO GO, MONKEYSLAYER!” It was Simona, about a mile ahead of me in the race.  Big grin on her face.  Now a big grin on my face.  Riiiggghhhtttt, I’m a monkeyslayer and this here I’m worried about is nuthin but a monkey in need of some slaying.  So I slowed my pace, breathed slowly and deeply and let myself cool down.  Monkey slayed.

I thought a lot about both of my parents during the race as it was  race to raise money for cancer and there were a lot of people running the race “in memoriam” for their own lost loved ones.  My mom also really liked to run races – especially since as she got older she tended to dominate her age group and won many a prize.  Not me.  I’m slow and not competitive when it comes to running races.  I was cured of any running competitiveness when I came in 2^nd to last in a race.  In my defense it was a snowshoe race over The Great Sand Dunes in Colorado – no ordinary running race, but humbling nonetheless. My sister used to also run a lot races (interested in more, Meg?) My dad didn’t mind races either – yet he tended to be way more social during the race (I’ve made a few friends during races myself) and was always happy when there was beer involved during the post-race festivities.  Much like myself…and my fellow monkeyslayers too, I think. 

Anyhow, I fought a monkey and finished the race and there were my friends cheering me on and I thought, “Hooray for FRIENDS!”  and then I thought, “I’m doing okay.” Take that, monkey.

So my advice to you, dearies, is watch out for monkeys.  And cheer your friends on – it makes them feel super good.

bugs and fumes

On Sunday night I went to a BBQ at my brother-in-law's Dad's house with my sister's family.  It was a nice night, warmer then I thought it'd be and we sat out on their back deck all evening. The mosquitos were out for what seemed like the first time all summer.  Fitting that they come out in mass during the "last" weekend of summer. rude.

We had the bug spray out to try to protect ourselves, but most of us were still getting a few bites. After a while Jack, Terry's dad, came out with a big can of Raid and started spraying the perimeter of the deck.  Terry leaned over and asked, "How long do you think it would have taken your mom to say something about this?" Mom was known to rise up in protest under most circumstances when any sort of 'unneccesary fumes' were emitted into her atmosphere, (once walking out in protest of a spinning class when the instructor oiled a squeaky bike during class), but we thought she might have let this one slide. 

I ended the weekend with several bites which I could have received that night, or during my big dirty bike ride on Sunday or at the final Labor Day party I attended Sunday night at Sho and Nigels. All were in their own way celebrations of summer and full of the potential of receiving bites. 

But last night as I tried to remember how to stop the itching (thank you, hydrocortisone) I recalled the summer when I thought I had the West Nile Virus ( I still think I did).  I had called mom to drive me to the doctor b/c I was feeling too feverish to drive myself.  For some reason I agreed to wait for her out front of my building on Chicago ave ( a pretty busy street any time of day).  I saw her coming and stepped out to the curb.  As she got closer I could see a look of total disgust on her face and then noticed an old truck in front of her spewing black smoke from it's exhaust.  When I looked back to mom's car she was gone.  As I scanned the road I caught her speeding around that truck and on down the road ahead.  Had she forgotten she'd agreed to pick me up?  As I wavered between walking down the street in the direction she'd taken off or wandering back up to my apartment to just go back to bed, she pulled up across the street and waved me over impatiently.  I made my way through the traffic and as I got into the car she explained that she'd been so angry by the fumes that she wanted to speed by to give the driver a dirty look and to get out of the smoke.  In her efforts to prove a point to this polluter, she'd momentarily forgotten to pick up her feverish daughter on the corner. 

The point of this is not to say that she didn't care that I was feverish, but to show that, man, she hated polluters.

And I hate mosquito bites. scratch, scratch.

:: bright and sunshiney Harms Woods. Home to many mosquitos and the big dirty bike ride Molly and I took this weekend.

Thinking about life

"What happens to you does not matter;

What you BECOME throught those experiences

is all that is significant.

This is the true meaning of life."

- daniel levin