Kevin and I have been talking for awhile about moving out of the DC area. While we are happy here, we worry about the cost of living and what our lives will look like in the long term. Over the last year we’ve considered moving to several different cities, but mostly in a hypothetical way.
It’s not hypothetical anymore. We are moving to Austin, Texas!!
Last year my employer, BB&T took over a failing Colonial Bank. Colonial is headquartered in Alabama, in addition, they also have a small presence in Austin and Dallas. Because of the tremendous opportunity that exists in Texas, BB&T decided to keep these branches and create a new region for the bank. Currently, there are only three branches in Austin.
A few months ago, I let the regional leadership in Texas know that I would be interested in joining their team. I didn’t hear anything for a long time and had almost given up hope that anything would happen. Instead I threw myself into this 30 for 30 project and let go of the dream of moving to Texas. Just when I thought it would never happen, I got an email letting me know of an opening in Austin, asking if I was still interested.
From there, things have moved incredibly fast. I expressed interest in the job, they made an offer, and now I’m moving at the end of August. I’m nervous to leave all of my friends and family, but so excited about this new opportunity. Kevin has been talking about moving to Austin since I met him. I’ve had the dream to go back to Texas for as long as I can remember, but it’s always been just that. A dream. I can’t believe it’s actually happening. Austin is consistently listed as one of the top ten cities to live in, top cities for young professionals, top city to be a dog, etc. This is a great opportunity for Kevin and I in the long term. We’ll enjoy a lower cost of living and have more career possibilities in the next few years.
I think the common bumper sticker in Texas reads “I wasn’t born here, but I got here as fast as I could.” Well, I was born there, and it’s taken me 25 years, but I’m headed home.
I can’t think of a better way to wrap up this project, I really couldn’t have planned it better if I had tried. Working through this list has taught me so much about living in the moment, and making my life into what I want it to be. I turn 30 tomorrow, and I’m starting a whole new chapter in my life. I’m not at all scared of being older or sad to let go of my past. I can honestly say I’m happier now than I have ever been and I can’t wait to see what the future has in store.
30 Done!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
#26: Drink a Bottle of Wine from each of the Major Regions in France
What an enjoyable task! I mean, I was really on board with this one from the beginning. I did a little research and decided the major wine regions in France, for me, would be the following:
Alsace, Bordeaux, Burgundy, Champagne, Loire, and Rhone
Obviously there are many more, but to narrow it down I went with this list. I took my list and my internet research over to Total Wine, and spent about an hour making my selection for each region. I chose somewhat based on price and descriptions from the Total Wine employees, but mostly on the look of the bottle. I’m a sucker for packaging.
Alsace: I had a Pinot Blanc from this region. I love Pinot Grigio and thought this would be a similar choice, and it was. We sipped this bottle over a light dinner on the patio.
Bordeaux: I had a 2006 La Croix Margautot. It was bold and meaty, and so we had this one with the Beouf Bourguignon. It gave me a moderate headache the next day, making me a little leery of Bordeaux in the future.
Burgundy: 2006 Marsannay. This one was a lighter red and tasted a little fruitier. I ended up having a glass after work with the leftovers in this bottle, and it was enjoyable and relaxing.
Loire: Vouvray. I had heard of Vouvray before as a suggestion for people who don’t typically enjoy wine. Vouvray is a white wine, whorishly sweet and finishes with a bit of a head rush. Not something I would want to drink again, but not bad.
Rhone: We had a 2002 Santa Duc. I’m not sure what happened with this bottle. Either the wine went bad, or it is just the worst wine on the planet. Kevin sniffed it and said it smelled like salad dressing, never a good sign. I had about two sips, and then ended up pouring out the rest. Really gross.
Champagne: No surprise here, we had French Champagne. A Brut to be exact. To celebrate the end of the list and our trip to Cancun!!
29 down; 1 to go
Monday, August 2, 2010
#11: Make a Self Portrait
This was probably the most commonly suggested idea when I was solicting advice in making my list of thirty things. I thought it would be a fun project and I'm actually surprised I didn't get to it earlier.
As a kid I loved to draw, and I wasn't half bad at it either. I haven't drawn anything in years now, but I thought if I took my time I could probably do a pretty good job on a self portrait. At least well enough that you all would be impressed and surprised. I thought I would do my portrait in charcoal because it would be one of the easier mediums to work in, and probably one of the more forgiving as well.
I have never been able to close my eyes and draw an image from my head. I need a picture in front of me to "copy" in order for anything to turn out well. Because of this, I had the genius idea to take a picture of myself, print it out and then draw it in charcoal. I waited until Kevin was out of town, and had a solo photo shoot which took over an hour. As it turns out, photographing yourself while amusing, is also quite difficult. After over 80 photos had been taken, I finally got the one I was hoping for.
Weeks have gone by since I took the photograph, and today I thought "Oh NO, I have to draw this picture tonight, when will I find the time." And then it hit me, photography is a medium itself. I've already made a self portrait, I took the picture! Below is the finished product and I'm really happy with how it came out. To the casual observer this is just a picture of a girl, but there is so much in it that represents me in my twenties. For a lot of my twenties I was a shy girl, that kept most of her thoughts to herself. I spent a lot of time observing the world, while trying to keep the world from observing me. I'm wearing a ring that has huge sentimental value to me, but that is now part of a past I'm able to let go of. And I couldn't be wearing anything other than camoflauge as a salute to my best friends in Richmond that taught me so much about who I am. I am so proud of this girl, and so excited for the path that she is on. I can't wait to look back on the eve of my 40th birthday and describe who I was in my 30s.
As a kid I loved to draw, and I wasn't half bad at it either. I haven't drawn anything in years now, but I thought if I took my time I could probably do a pretty good job on a self portrait. At least well enough that you all would be impressed and surprised. I thought I would do my portrait in charcoal because it would be one of the easier mediums to work in, and probably one of the more forgiving as well.
I have never been able to close my eyes and draw an image from my head. I need a picture in front of me to "copy" in order for anything to turn out well. Because of this, I had the genius idea to take a picture of myself, print it out and then draw it in charcoal. I waited until Kevin was out of town, and had a solo photo shoot which took over an hour. As it turns out, photographing yourself while amusing, is also quite difficult. After over 80 photos had been taken, I finally got the one I was hoping for.
Weeks have gone by since I took the photograph, and today I thought "Oh NO, I have to draw this picture tonight, when will I find the time." And then it hit me, photography is a medium itself. I've already made a self portrait, I took the picture! Below is the finished product and I'm really happy with how it came out. To the casual observer this is just a picture of a girl, but there is so much in it that represents me in my twenties. For a lot of my twenties I was a shy girl, that kept most of her thoughts to herself. I spent a lot of time observing the world, while trying to keep the world from observing me. I'm wearing a ring that has huge sentimental value to me, but that is now part of a past I'm able to let go of. And I couldn't be wearing anything other than camoflauge as a salute to my best friends in Richmond that taught me so much about who I am. I am so proud of this girl, and so excited for the path that she is on. I can't wait to look back on the eve of my 40th birthday and describe who I was in my 30s.
28 down; 2 to go
#2: Have my Palm Read
When constructing my list, I thought this would be one of the easier tasks to accomplish. However, as it turns out, palm readers are fairly hard to find. Psychics are fairly common, but those specializing in palm reading, not so much. The few that I did find worked out of their homes, and there was no way I was going to a stranger’s house who claimed to be a palm reader… I mean, if that doesn’t scream “murderous con man” I don’t know what does.
Needing help, I turned to someone who always comes through for me when I need it, my mom. She googled “how to read a palm” and took a crash course in the art of palmistry. And this afternoon, the last day for blog activities (my birthday is in two days, but we leave for Cancun tomorrow!!), she sat down and read my palm.
Everyone’s palm has (or should have) three main lines on it, the Love Line, Head Line, and Life Line. Palm reading is interesting because unlike astrology it is not set in stone forever. Your palm can change in response to the events in your life. It is not a predictor of your future, it’s more of a road map to your past.
Here are the details of my palm, according to Sister Moon Whisper, which is what I have now started calling my mom.
The head line reveals not how smart you are, but how you think. Mind has a gentle curve and a moderate slope to it, indicating that I’m creative. It’s also a deep and long line which says that I have clear and focused thoughts. My head line is separated from my life line, which means I have a taste for adventure and an enthusiasm for life.
The life line is an indicator of the quality of your life. I have more than one life line (some people do) which means that I have extra vitality and positivity around me. One of my secondary life lines is longer that my primary indicating that I’m occasionally prone to wasting time and energy.
My love line starts under my index finger revealing that I’m content in my love life. It is a bit curvy and very long, suggesting that I’m able to freely express my emotions and feelings. It is also almost exactly parallel to my head line which means I have a good handle on my emotions.
All in all, while a great deal of this was subjective, I would say it seemed to be fairly accurate. And pretty interesting. Your palm can actually change in response to trauma, great joy, or big loss. And it does change as you go through life trying to take in everything that comes at you. Sister Moon Whisper has lines on her palm for all of the deep relationships she has formed in her life so far. I have very few, which only leaves me excited and confident about what the future might have in store.
27 down; 3 to go
#9: Raise $1,000 for Charity
First and foremost I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who helped me reach this goal. I absolutely could not have crossed this off the list without all your support and generosity. Together, we smashed the goal of $1,000 and ended up raising $1,400 for The Water Project. Thank you to friends, co workers and parents that got me started, and thank you to the Bass Family for the big push in the end.
Originally I wanted to do some sort of charitable work for my 30 before 30 project. I felt like I was in a position to make a meaningful donation to a charity, but then I thought with a little effort, I could probably do better than that. I decided to raise money instead of making a single donation, so that we could all make a bigger impact. The difficult part was identifying a charity to work with. At first I wanted to find a local project, but living in Fairfax County made that difficult. This area is so affluent that $1,000 really wouldn’t go that far. And that got me thinking about people who lack for the most basic of human needs.
Those of you that know me well know that I’ve been slightly obsessed with Africa ever since taking an African Geography class in college (and yes, that actually fulfilled some sort of requirement). Africa is the continent I would most like to visit, and it is my dream to climb Kilimanjaro someday. (Due to time restraints that did not make it on the 30 list). So I thought it was fitting to work with The Water Project and their mission to build wells in impoverished African villages. Truly, without water, no other progress can be made. You can send medical supplies, seeds to grow, and other goods; but without water, none of it will help.
The money that we raised will combine with the money from a few other donors and will change an entire village forever. The folks at The Water Project will be sending me the location of our well, as well as pictures documenting the building process. I’ll be sure to forward it along once I have it, so you can all see the impact that you helped make.
Thank you again for your support. I was truly overwhelmed by your generous response, and I couldn’t have done this without you.
26 down; 4 to go
Originally I wanted to do some sort of charitable work for my 30 before 30 project. I felt like I was in a position to make a meaningful donation to a charity, but then I thought with a little effort, I could probably do better than that. I decided to raise money instead of making a single donation, so that we could all make a bigger impact. The difficult part was identifying a charity to work with. At first I wanted to find a local project, but living in Fairfax County made that difficult. This area is so affluent that $1,000 really wouldn’t go that far. And that got me thinking about people who lack for the most basic of human needs.
Those of you that know me well know that I’ve been slightly obsessed with Africa ever since taking an African Geography class in college (and yes, that actually fulfilled some sort of requirement). Africa is the continent I would most like to visit, and it is my dream to climb Kilimanjaro someday. (Due to time restraints that did not make it on the 30 list). So I thought it was fitting to work with The Water Project and their mission to build wells in impoverished African villages. Truly, without water, no other progress can be made. You can send medical supplies, seeds to grow, and other goods; but without water, none of it will help.
The money that we raised will combine with the money from a few other donors and will change an entire village forever. The folks at The Water Project will be sending me the location of our well, as well as pictures documenting the building process. I’ll be sure to forward it along once I have it, so you can all see the impact that you helped make.
Thank you again for your support. I was truly overwhelmed by your generous response, and I couldn’t have done this without you.
26 down; 4 to go
#17: Build Something
Inspired by my newest favorite song, Miranda Lambert’s “The House that Built Me,” I decided to build a house. Not exactly your typical single family residence, rather a house of cards. (Kevin and I have been debating over whether to call it a house of cards—my vote—or a card house). Ok, so I know that this is a cop out. Originally I was going to build a new fence but Lowe’s didn’t have a truck to rent the day we had set aside for building so I couldn’t get the fencing home. (In retrospect I’m really glad I didn’t spend the money to fix up this house. This will make more since in a later blog post). Then I decided to help Mike B build some steps up into his hot tub. But the weekend I went down to Richmond we ended up doing more partying than building. Which left me with very little time to actually break out the power tools and lumber. Instead, I took advantage of the vague wording and built a house of cards. Or a card house, whatever. It might be lame, but my blog, my rules.
25 down; 5 to go
25 down; 5 to go
#7: Leave an Outrageous Tip for a Waitress
Welcome to Tripps.
Tripps, or TK Tripps as it was originally known, is my former employer. I worked there in my twenties, but my relationship with this restaurant goes back even further than that. In high school, my date took me to Tripps before my first homecoming dance. I think I ordered a chicken Caesar salad. Not because I was trying to be dainty, but because it was pretty expensive for a 10th grader. Fast forward a few years later and my high school boyfriend would start working there after school. He would come home with stories about a manager so awful I remember thinking he couldn’t exist. Oh, but he does… and years later I would experience it first hand. Mr. Kyle, you ruined Boston accents for me. Not that they needed much help, but still.
Anyway, as I said I worked at Tripps on and off for several years. And it was here that I met my two best friends. The three of us worked together at Tripp, at a bar downtown, and lived together in a split level house in the West End. Outside we parked our three Honda Civics, and at least one was usually drivable at any point in time. Those were probably some of the best days of my life.
At the time I was completely dependent on tips, (well tips and the monthly loans from Burke Bank). And every so often you would get that one table who asked for nothing and then left you a giant tip on their way out without saying anything. I can’t tell you how it makes your night when that happens. Back then I used to think that one day when I was successful, I would come back and make someone else’s night with a ridiculously big tip. I can’t afford to do it all the time, but definitely at least once. While in Richmond this past weekend, I took Kevin to dinner at Tripps. Marissa was our waitress and she was absolutely excellent. We ordered a bottle of wine and she had another waitress come out and uncork it for us, the exact same thing I did during my first few months. We had a delicious dinner and left a tip that I’m absolutely sure made Marissa’s night. It was a great feeling to do that for someone else who will remain a complete stranger to me.
24 down; 6 to go
Tripps, or TK Tripps as it was originally known, is my former employer. I worked there in my twenties, but my relationship with this restaurant goes back even further than that. In high school, my date took me to Tripps before my first homecoming dance. I think I ordered a chicken Caesar salad. Not because I was trying to be dainty, but because it was pretty expensive for a 10th grader. Fast forward a few years later and my high school boyfriend would start working there after school. He would come home with stories about a manager so awful I remember thinking he couldn’t exist. Oh, but he does… and years later I would experience it first hand. Mr. Kyle, you ruined Boston accents for me. Not that they needed much help, but still.
Anyway, as I said I worked at Tripps on and off for several years. And it was here that I met my two best friends. The three of us worked together at Tripp, at a bar downtown, and lived together in a split level house in the West End. Outside we parked our three Honda Civics, and at least one was usually drivable at any point in time. Those were probably some of the best days of my life.
At the time I was completely dependent on tips, (well tips and the monthly loans from Burke Bank). And every so often you would get that one table who asked for nothing and then left you a giant tip on their way out without saying anything. I can’t tell you how it makes your night when that happens. Back then I used to think that one day when I was successful, I would come back and make someone else’s night with a ridiculously big tip. I can’t afford to do it all the time, but definitely at least once. While in Richmond this past weekend, I took Kevin to dinner at Tripps. Marissa was our waitress and she was absolutely excellent. We ordered a bottle of wine and she had another waitress come out and uncork it for us, the exact same thing I did during my first few months. We had a delicious dinner and left a tip that I’m absolutely sure made Marissa’s night. It was a great feeling to do that for someone else who will remain a complete stranger to me.
24 down; 6 to go
#29: Watch a Live Polo Match
I know what you’re thinking… I don’t remember this on the list! Well, my mom wrote a short story at the age of 9 that has always stuck with me. I don't remember the actual plot line, but I know in the end the main character, Carlotta, proclaimed "it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind." Very precocious for a 9 year old, and also quite true. Originally this was supposed to be “Climb a Mountain,” however after the heat exhaustion episode during #25, the mountain was bumped. I told Kevin I would happily climb Old Rag, but only in the spring or fall—not in the heat of the summer months. So using my power as blog commissioner, I substituted an alternate and we went to watch a polo match instead.
Kevin and I found out we have live polo matches every Saturday just a half hour away from us. It’s out in The Plains, VA in Great Meadow and it is absolutely beautiful, with rolling green hills and miles of white fenced pastures. This past Saturday, Kevin, Mike B and I headed over to see a game up close and personal.
Polo was originated in Persia in the 5th century BC as a training game for cavalry units. The modern version we know today was formalized by the British. Field polo is played with teams of 4 on long grassy fields, but arena polo is much more popular in the US. It is played with teams of three in a shorter sand arena bound by 6 ft tall walls. Arena polo is played in 4 six minute chukkers (quarters). The term originated in 1898 and is derived from the Hindi chakkar which means circle or wheel.
It’s interesting to note that although the term ‘Polo Ponies’ is widely used, it’s a bit of a misnomer. Most horses used for polo are not ponies, but full sized. They are bred and selected for quick bursts of speed, agility, and stamina. They are trained to be reined with only one hand and are extremely responsive to subtle leg and weight cues from their rider. In fact, a well trained polo pony can account for 60-75% of a player’s skill. Each player typically uses between 4-8 ponies per match; although in the arena polo we saw fewer ponies are needed as the field of play is much smaller and there are less chukkers.
The players themselves wear the numbers 1-3 on their backs. The one position is the most offensive and will most likely do most of the scoring. The two position can score themselves, or can distribute the ball to position one and provide defense. Commonly, position two is the most skilled player on the team. Position three is the most tactical and predominantly a defensive position, it is three’s responsibility to get the ball downfield to player one or two.
When we arrived in Great Meadow, we walked over to the lighted polo arena and saw people sitting on the grass or in camp chairs, surrounded by picnic baskets and wine glasses. There were a few tailgaters with upscale spreads of wine, grapes, brie, and who knows what else. The attire ranged from expensive sun dresses to jeans and tshirts. It was a laid back crowd gathered to sip wine, enjoy the weather and watch the match. We walked over the Boxwood Winery bar (sponsors for the event included wineries, the Porsche dealership, etc.) had a glass of vino and settled in to root the Nash Tigers to victory over Four Oaks Farm. Overall, the game of polo is not super exciting, but the venue and atmosphere were hard to beat.
23 down; 7 to go
Thursday, July 29, 2010
#15: Write a Letter to my First Grade Teacher
Mrs. Hill was my first grade teacher at Oak Hill Elementary in 1986. Recently while cleaning out some old boxes in the attic I found all my first grade papers. Amongst the journals Mrs. Hill made me keep, I found the letter she gave to each of us at the end of the school year. She instructed us to keep up with our math facts and read lots of books. She advised a lot of swimming and minimal TV watching. And at the bottom of this letter, it said, "Keep Writing, you can always write to Mrs. Hill, she will always want to hear from you." And it included her then current address. The letter took me back 24 years… Mrs. Hill was the greatest most patient teacher I had. I knew I had to write her.
While the letter I wrote her is personal, I didn’t think she would mind if I shared it. I mailed it a few days ago (after googling an updated address for her) and I very much hope that she writes back.
Dear Mrs. Hill,
I have an ongoing blog for friends and family members to track my progress as I work through the list. Creating the blog was a suggestion from my boyfriend, and until I started it, I forgot how much I enjoy writing. You taught me to read, gave me my wings when I succeeded (which I still have), and reading has been a passionate hobby ever since. Moreover you encouraged me to write, a gift I’m grateful for. My blog is similar to the journals you made us keep every morning. I found those very same journals in the attic recently and couldn’t believe it. My spelling was atrocious, but you always seemed to know exactly what I was trying to say.
In working through this list I have faced fears and overcome challenges. It has given me reason to see my family more often, and deepen relationships with them. I have tried new things, uncovered new talents and unearthed old passions. Perhaps most important of all, it has kept me active. I’m having more fun and am happier now than I have ever been in my life. Instead of wishing my life was one way or the other, I’m making it into exactly what I want it to be. This year will no doubt be one of the best in my life.
I found the enclosed letter you gave to all of us at the end of the school year and was instantly struck by what an amazing teacher you are. I know you were my favorite teacher when I was younger, but looking back with the clarity of hindsight I can see just how much patience and love you gave to us all. I simply wanted to say Thank You, you made a strong impact on my life and I wanted to take the time to let you know how much I appreciate it.
I think we all promised to buy you a sports car if we ever won the lottery. Unfortunately I haven’t won yet, but I sincerely hope you got your sports car!
With love,
Allison Bass
Oak Hill, First Grade class of 1986
22 down; 8 to go
Friday, July 23, 2010
#27: Learn to Make Sushi
You may have noticed my best friend Mike B popping up in this blog quite often. He is always ready to try anything, which makes him great to be around, but also very helpful in terms of this list. This past weekend, while he was here to support me by running the 10k, he also brought his sushi making kit!
I fell in love with California rolls when I was in college. My then boyfriend Gary introduced me to them, and it’s been a passionate relationship ever since. (With the sushi, not Gary). Since California rolls, I have tried squid, tuna, salmon, sashimi of all kinds, eel, and octopus. I have always wanted to attempt making my own sushi, and now seemed like a good time.
To make your own sushi you need the following:
Sushi rice, any other kind just won’t do
Rice vinegar
Sugar and salt
Nori (thin sheets of seaweed)
Whatever fillers you want inside your sushi roll (typically cucumber, avocado and fish)
I made my rice on the stove, since I don’t have a rice maker. Nothing difficult here, literally just boiling water and waiting. Once it was done I let it sit 15 minutes. After that I heated the rice vinegar on the stove and dissolved 3 Tbsp of sugar and 1 tsp of salt into it. I let that mix cool, and then folded it, a little at a time, into the sushi rice. Then I spread the rice out on a sheet of tinfoil.
Next, I laid out my sushi mat and placed a sheet of nori on top. I spread the rice on top of the nori, leaving just about a half inch around the sides. If you’re thinking in terms of bed linens (which I’m sure you all do) you want to spread a flat sheet of rice, not a pillow top mattress, on your nori. I ended up somewhere in between, with let’s say a down comforter layer, and it made my rolls a bit too thick.
I arranged my sliced cucumbers, avocado and crab meat on the top and was ready to roll!! (Mike B and I decided to make simple California rolls since it was our first attempt, and also because the tuna at the store looked less than appetizing). The rolling process was easier that I expected, probably due to the rice, it is seriously sticky. Using the mat, I rolled the nori as tight as I could, and then slightly wet the edges to seal the roll. After that I rolled it in plastic wrap and refrigerated.
When we decided it was time to try our creation, I pulled the roll out of the fridge and sliced it with a very sharp knife. Again, easier than I thought, but I did crush a few slices a bit too much. Above is the final product, and it was delicious. I was especially excited that Kevin asked for seconds!
I’d love to try this again. It was surprisingly easy and not too time consuming. And now that I understand the process I can start to get creative with the ingredients!
21 down; 9 to go
Monday, July 19, 2010
#16: Take a Spin Class
Wednesday night Lynda invited me to a spin class at her gym, Worldgate Fitness. I was incredibly excited to have someone to spin with, and to see the gym (it’s much nicer than mine). She arranged to get me a free pass and we showed up for our 6:30 Spin Class with Beth.I’ve heard several people talk about their addiction to spin. I mean some people really love this class, and I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. My favorite (and I use the term ‘favorite’ loosely) form of cardio has always been running. I can’t stand the elliptical machine and biking is okay but I’ve always felt like running was a better workout. But it’s boring, so if spin classes are as great as everyone says… well, count me in.
The hour long class got started right at 6:30 and we began with an easy warm up. We were doing something Beth called pedal drills. She would tell us to push on the right pedal, pulling up on the toe cage, now back to center. What? I was looking around, everyone appeared to be pedaling along just as before. Now the left side! Again, no discernable movement. I just kept pedaling.
After the quick drills and stretches we began the ladders. Beth’s voice was such that I didn’t realize she was saying ladders until about 40 minutes through the class. We would pedal away, gradually increasing the resistance as we went, and then drop back down to the beginning and do it again. The knob that you use to adjust the resistance isn’t labeled, you simply turn it clockwise for harder, and counter clockwise for easier. It took me a while to try and find a consistent level of change, but towards the end I was just getting the hang of it. After our ladders we went from flats to hills, which really seemed the same as ladders to me, but who knows. At the top of our hills we would come out of the saddle (aka the seat) which really got the thighs burning. All in all the hour went by much faster than if I had tried to do an hour of cardio on my own, and I was entertained the whole time.
A few things to mention though, let’s start with the saddle. As someone who took up horseback riding at the age of 9, I can tell you for certain, this ain’t no saddle. Saddles are relatively comfortable (at least nice ones are). This is a tiny bike seat with minimal cushioning that you will be resting your body weight on for approximately 50 minutes. It isn’t comfortable and it doesn’t feel good. Several times I was pedaling away thinking, let’s get out of the saddle, let’s get out of the saddle! Then we would, and thirty seconds later I thought, let’s get back down, ouch! Also, do they teach you motivational quips when you become certified in spin? I mean, I somewhat expected it, and it’s about the same as any other exercise class, but about halfway through I could hear Beth’s speech on repeat in my head. “Flats to hills, 7 to 9; push pull the pedals, push pull; feel up to the challenge… and recovery” with that last ‘Recoverrrry’ coming out in sing-song fashion. It gave me the giggles several times throughout the workout.
All in all, I don’t think I’ll be addicted to spin, and I still think running is cardio-king, but it was definitely fun. And a good break to the treadmill. I would do it again, but I would invest is a padded seat cover. I can’t even imagine how men attempt this….
20 down; 10 to go
#10: Eat Ethiopian Food
My dad and I had a date this past Tuesday to travel to exotic Gainesville, VA to visit Zed’s Ethiopian restaurant. We had been trying to get together for several weeks to do this, but the best Ethiopian places in our area are in Georgetown, and it’s difficult to drive in (especially on a week night) and find parking. Last week Dad emailed me that one of the best places in the city had opened a second location out west and we planned our excursion.
We headed out in a rainstorm and found the restaurant tucked in between a childcare facility and a Tae Kwon Do gym. The building was brand new and absolutely spotless. We walked in and found one other table of diners inside. We took our seat and were greeted by the manager who was so polite. We explained that we had never eaten Ethiopian before and he helped us pick our meal from there.
We started with two different appetizers. The first was dried cottage cheese curds with clarified butter and red pepper. The other was sautéed mushrooms with peppers and onions. Both came with the standard injera bread. Traditionally Ethiopian food is eaten with your hands, using the injera bread to scoop up food. Injera is made with a grain called teff and comes out in flat pancake like sheets. It is gray in color, fairly light and very spongy in consistency. It is also typically served on one platter for all diners, with everyone sharing the servings
Both appetizers were very good, especially the mushrooms. The injera was okay, and easy enough to use as a scoop. Here's what it looks like:
We headed out in a rainstorm and found the restaurant tucked in between a childcare facility and a Tae Kwon Do gym. The building was brand new and absolutely spotless. We walked in and found one other table of diners inside. We took our seat and were greeted by the manager who was so polite. We explained that we had never eaten Ethiopian before and he helped us pick our meal from there.
We started with two different appetizers. The first was dried cottage cheese curds with clarified butter and red pepper. The other was sautéed mushrooms with peppers and onions. Both came with the standard injera bread. Traditionally Ethiopian food is eaten with your hands, using the injera bread to scoop up food. Injera is made with a grain called teff and comes out in flat pancake like sheets. It is gray in color, fairly light and very spongy in consistency. It is also typically served on one platter for all diners, with everyone sharing the servings
Both appetizers were very good, especially the mushrooms. The injera was okay, and easy enough to use as a scoop. Here's what it looks like:
For our entrée the manager had suggested we get a sampler of the traditional meat and vegetable dishes. It came out on one huge platter, pictured below. Starting with the cauliflower at the top we had: cauliflower, split pea kik alicha, collard greens gomen, cabbage in sauce tikil gomen, chicken infillay, beef kaey watt, miser watt, more collards, and spicy beef alicha in the middle. And lots more injera. We dove into the meat dishes first and the chicken was delicious, it reminded me of Indian food. The beef kaey watt didn’t have much taste to it, but it was good if you added some of the red lentils (miser watt) to it. All in all the food was good, but the injera really started to weigh on me about halfway through the meal. I kept looking at it and feeling its odd texture in my hands, I knew it resembled something non-edible but I couldn’t think of what. Halfway through the meal it came to me, carpet padding. Injera bread is like that layer of foamy carpet padding they put under the carpeting during installation. After I realized that, the meal started to go downhill. Mentally I couldn’t get that thought out of my head and it was really starting to bother me, but there was no other way to get the food to your mouth without using the injera. I continued on and we finished most of the food, but I was glad when it was over.
We ordered a non-Ethiopian dessert of coffee ice cream and it helped immensely, but on the drive home I could still feel that strange spongy layer in the back of my throat. I can say conclusively at this point that while it wasn’t bad, I don’t need to eat Ethiopian food (specifically injera) ever again.
19 down; 11 to go
#4: Run a 10k
I thought adding a 10k was a great idea when I originally made this list back in March. From then I figured I had 4 months to train and would be in terrific shape by the time the race actually came along. Well, you know what they say about good intentions… Instead, my training program looked like this:
April: do nothing
May: begin running and building up distances, run a 5k
June: keep running, but less than before
July: stop all forms of exercise
I structured the weekend of the race in the following way:
Thursday: stay up late discussing life with Mike B over pizza and beer
Friday: have people over, eat more pizza, drink more beer, go to a bar and get drunk
Saturday: go to work hungover in the morning, take a nap in the afternoon
Saturday evening: eat pre race meal of wings and nachos
Sunday: wake up a 4:45 am, run 10k
As you can see I was not exactly adequately prepared for this race, but I was determined to do my best regardless. We arrived at the race site in Maryland at 6:30 on Sunday morning. The race was a part of a series of trail runs; there was a 10k, 15k, 25k, and 50k all going on that morning. (A 50k is 31 miles—in case you were wondering). We checked in, got our numbers and stood to the side to stretch nervously as we waited for things to get started.
The runners set out in waves, with the 10k participants (the largest group) starting last. We ran down a grassy field and a paved path for about ½ a mile, and then turned into the woods. The trail was a single file footpath, strewn with rocks, roots, and the occasion log lying across the path. Mentally, this race was tiring immediately because you couldn’t take your eyes off the ground for a second. All three of us (you may have noticed that Kevin and Mike B have been semi-willing participants for many of the list activities) tripped, cursed, and stumbled our way through the race.
Despite my lack of training, I felt great while running this race. It was a huge help that we were running in the woods, shaded by trees, rather than in the direct sun. There were a few steep hills that were challenging, but for the most part I was able to settle in and actually enjoy running (which almost never happens). At one point I actually started making notes to include in my blog post, leaving me to wonder if this was a case of art imitating life, or life imitating art, imitating life. Your call, Mr. Wilde. Then I started wondering why I was talking to Oscar Wilde during my run. Around that point I tripped on another root and all thoughts flew out of my head completely.
I finished this race in third place for my gender and age group*, and I felt great afterwards. Today I feel a little less great, my calves are sore and I have two sizeable blisters on the arches of my feet. In spite of the physical pain, I have the terrific feeling you get when you accomplish something that challenges you.
April: do nothing
May: begin running and building up distances, run a 5k
June: keep running, but less than before
July: stop all forms of exercise
I structured the weekend of the race in the following way:
Thursday: stay up late discussing life with Mike B over pizza and beer
Friday: have people over, eat more pizza, drink more beer, go to a bar and get drunk
Saturday: go to work hungover in the morning, take a nap in the afternoon
Saturday evening: eat pre race meal of wings and nachos
Sunday: wake up a 4:45 am, run 10k
As you can see I was not exactly adequately prepared for this race, but I was determined to do my best regardless. We arrived at the race site in Maryland at 6:30 on Sunday morning. The race was a part of a series of trail runs; there was a 10k, 15k, 25k, and 50k all going on that morning. (A 50k is 31 miles—in case you were wondering). We checked in, got our numbers and stood to the side to stretch nervously as we waited for things to get started.
The runners set out in waves, with the 10k participants (the largest group) starting last. We ran down a grassy field and a paved path for about ½ a mile, and then turned into the woods. The trail was a single file footpath, strewn with rocks, roots, and the occasion log lying across the path. Mentally, this race was tiring immediately because you couldn’t take your eyes off the ground for a second. All three of us (you may have noticed that Kevin and Mike B have been semi-willing participants for many of the list activities) tripped, cursed, and stumbled our way through the race.
Despite my lack of training, I felt great while running this race. It was a huge help that we were running in the woods, shaded by trees, rather than in the direct sun. There were a few steep hills that were challenging, but for the most part I was able to settle in and actually enjoy running (which almost never happens). At one point I actually started making notes to include in my blog post, leaving me to wonder if this was a case of art imitating life, or life imitating art, imitating life. Your call, Mr. Wilde. Then I started wondering why I was talking to Oscar Wilde during my run. Around that point I tripped on another root and all thoughts flew out of my head completely.
I finished this race in third place for my gender and age group*, and I felt great afterwards. Today I feel a little less great, my calves are sore and I have two sizeable blisters on the arches of my feet. In spite of the physical pain, I have the terrific feeling you get when you accomplish something that challenges you.
*Kevin said that I should mention that there were only 4 people in my gender and age group. Apparently it’s not as impressive but funnier.
18 down; 12 to go
#13: Read Anna Karenina
Finally, finally, finally I can say I have read Anna Karenina. All 817 pages of Anna Karenina, and that’s 817 pages without any pictures at all!
I considered writing a theme paper about the novel for this blog entry, and even letting Dave grade it, as the foremost English teacher in the family. But there are so many themes in this book that writing said paper might end up being as long as the actual novel, and none of you would be all that interested, having never read it for yourself. In fact, I concluded that since I am fairly certain I’m the only one who has read this book, I can say whatever I want about it and none of you will know the difference.
So, Anna Karenina is a novel about robots who learn to love…. No wait, that’s Android Karenina! That’s not a lame joke, that’s an actual book written by the same author who wrote Sense and Sensibility and Seamonsters, and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Have you seen these books? I have no idea what they are about, but the cover art (skeletons in 19th century dress) really freaks me out.
Back to the point, Anna Karenina’s main theme is Happiness. Tolstoy examines the relationships between work, love, society and family; and how each may create or hinder happiness. At the time Tolstoy was searching for meaning in his own life and it comes through in the novel. The most famous quote from the book is its first line:
“Happy families are all alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
Halfway through the novel I was convinced that Tolstoy was trying to convey that whatever you think will make you happy, will actually make you miserable. Three quarters through the book, I was convinced. The novel follows three families, all related to each other. It opens with the Oblonskys. The husband, Stiva, is having multiple affairs and his wife, Dolly, finds out. She doesn’t feel as though she can forgive him, but she also cannot leave him because of her children. Instead she grows to despise him. Dolly’s sister, Kitty, is unmarried at the start of the novel. Stiva’s friend Levin is in love with her and proposes, but Kitty is infatuated with a young officer, Vronsky, and hopes he will propose, so she refuses Levin. Later Levin (whose character opposes Anna’s in almost every measure) does marry Kitty once she realizes Vronsky never had any intention of proposing. Meanwhile, Stiva’s sister, Anna Karenina is married with a young son. Vronsky meets her and immediately falls in love. He and Anna begin an affair, she leaves her husband, he takes her son, society rejects her for her actions, she has a daughter with Vronsky that she cannot love, Vronsky becomes distant and she ends up {SPOILER ALERT} killing herself. The end.
Was that summary too confusing? I tried to keep it as short as possible.
Tolstoy’s goal was “to present this woman [Anna] as not guilty, but merely pitiful.” I can’t say that he succeeded, at least looking through the lens of modern day. Anna Karenina is unlikable as a character. While at rare times the reader may feel a bit of sympathy for her, for the most part she acts selfishly. Even though she is only trying to pursue her own happiness she ends up hurting those around her. I know she was stuck in an unhappy marriage with a cold man, but to forsake her son for her lover is low. She becomes so unhappy living out of wedlock with Vronsky, rejected by society, estranged from her son, and consumed with the thought that she might lose Vronsky that she kills herself, both to escape her fate and to punish him for a perceived lack of attention. I struggled to feel empathy.
Meanwhile, Levin (or Koysta, Demitri, Konstantine….everyone in Russia has 17 different names) becomes our protagonist. It is also interesting to note that Levin’s character is written as a semi autobiographical portrayal of Tolstoy’s own beliefs. He lives a simple country life on his estate, doing honest work (farming) rather than holding a superfluous post in the city for which he is overpaid. He loves Kitty and eventually wins her love in return. He wants to do what is right and moral in regards to the peasants who work his land. And although he is agnostic at the start of the novel, he does wish to know the meaning of his life and what it is that he is living for. In end, although he is happy in marriage, work, and has a baby son, he contemplates killing himself. What? These Russians are miserable, and the Bolshevik revolution hasn’t even happened yet… hold on Levin, it’s going to get worse! Rather than kill himself though, Levin finally has an epiphany and finds purpose in living for God and achieves happiness and fulfillment.
Am I glad I read this book? Going into it, I thought it was a love story about the strong and beautiful Anna Karenina. Turns out, she isn’t strong or particularly beautiful, and this ain’t no love story. It’s more of an examination of happiness, living for God, and a commentary on the debate over the role of peasants in society. Before I answer I’d like to share Tolstoy’s own thoughts on his masterpiece. Tolstoy wrote Anna Karenina in installments (published in the Russian Messenger) from 1874-1877. His eager start to the novel began to slow towards the end of this time, due mainly to the changes going on in his personal life. Tolstoy was saddened by the loss of several relatives (three of them children), and became more and more occupied with providing an education for the peasants that worked his land. He also underwent a spiritual epiphany at this time and renounced the Russian Orthodox Church. He eventually gave up all his property and possessions, became a vegetarian, and practiced celibacy. Anna’s story of aristocracy and the over indulgence of society was of little interest to him. In November 1875, Tolstoy wrote to a friend, “My God, if only someone would finish Anna Karenina for me. Unbearably repulsive.”
While I won’t go as far as Tolstoy, am I glad I read this book? No, not really. Portions were entertaining, and it certainly started off well; but somewhere in the middle it became somewhat muddled and began to stall. Towards the end it became clear that there would be few, if any, resolutions to the questions brought up, and that Tolstoy did not intend to tie up all of the loose ends. Tolstoy left his novel true to real life, complete with messy story lines that aren’t completely resolved and characters who never learn anything.
In related news, I did hear that a play adaptation of Dostoyevsky’s “The Demons” is coming to New York this summer, if anyone’s interested. It’s 12 hours long and completely in Italian.
17 down; 13 to go
I considered writing a theme paper about the novel for this blog entry, and even letting Dave grade it, as the foremost English teacher in the family. But there are so many themes in this book that writing said paper might end up being as long as the actual novel, and none of you would be all that interested, having never read it for yourself. In fact, I concluded that since I am fairly certain I’m the only one who has read this book, I can say whatever I want about it and none of you will know the difference.
So, Anna Karenina is a novel about robots who learn to love…. No wait, that’s Android Karenina! That’s not a lame joke, that’s an actual book written by the same author who wrote Sense and Sensibility and Seamonsters, and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Have you seen these books? I have no idea what they are about, but the cover art (skeletons in 19th century dress) really freaks me out.
Back to the point, Anna Karenina’s main theme is Happiness. Tolstoy examines the relationships between work, love, society and family; and how each may create or hinder happiness. At the time Tolstoy was searching for meaning in his own life and it comes through in the novel. The most famous quote from the book is its first line:
“Happy families are all alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
Halfway through the novel I was convinced that Tolstoy was trying to convey that whatever you think will make you happy, will actually make you miserable. Three quarters through the book, I was convinced. The novel follows three families, all related to each other. It opens with the Oblonskys. The husband, Stiva, is having multiple affairs and his wife, Dolly, finds out. She doesn’t feel as though she can forgive him, but she also cannot leave him because of her children. Instead she grows to despise him. Dolly’s sister, Kitty, is unmarried at the start of the novel. Stiva’s friend Levin is in love with her and proposes, but Kitty is infatuated with a young officer, Vronsky, and hopes he will propose, so she refuses Levin. Later Levin (whose character opposes Anna’s in almost every measure) does marry Kitty once she realizes Vronsky never had any intention of proposing. Meanwhile, Stiva’s sister, Anna Karenina is married with a young son. Vronsky meets her and immediately falls in love. He and Anna begin an affair, she leaves her husband, he takes her son, society rejects her for her actions, she has a daughter with Vronsky that she cannot love, Vronsky becomes distant and she ends up {SPOILER ALERT} killing herself. The end.
Was that summary too confusing? I tried to keep it as short as possible.
Tolstoy’s goal was “to present this woman [Anna] as not guilty, but merely pitiful.” I can’t say that he succeeded, at least looking through the lens of modern day. Anna Karenina is unlikable as a character. While at rare times the reader may feel a bit of sympathy for her, for the most part she acts selfishly. Even though she is only trying to pursue her own happiness she ends up hurting those around her. I know she was stuck in an unhappy marriage with a cold man, but to forsake her son for her lover is low. She becomes so unhappy living out of wedlock with Vronsky, rejected by society, estranged from her son, and consumed with the thought that she might lose Vronsky that she kills herself, both to escape her fate and to punish him for a perceived lack of attention. I struggled to feel empathy.
Meanwhile, Levin (or Koysta, Demitri, Konstantine….everyone in Russia has 17 different names) becomes our protagonist. It is also interesting to note that Levin’s character is written as a semi autobiographical portrayal of Tolstoy’s own beliefs. He lives a simple country life on his estate, doing honest work (farming) rather than holding a superfluous post in the city for which he is overpaid. He loves Kitty and eventually wins her love in return. He wants to do what is right and moral in regards to the peasants who work his land. And although he is agnostic at the start of the novel, he does wish to know the meaning of his life and what it is that he is living for. In end, although he is happy in marriage, work, and has a baby son, he contemplates killing himself. What? These Russians are miserable, and the Bolshevik revolution hasn’t even happened yet… hold on Levin, it’s going to get worse! Rather than kill himself though, Levin finally has an epiphany and finds purpose in living for God and achieves happiness and fulfillment.
Am I glad I read this book? Going into it, I thought it was a love story about the strong and beautiful Anna Karenina. Turns out, she isn’t strong or particularly beautiful, and this ain’t no love story. It’s more of an examination of happiness, living for God, and a commentary on the debate over the role of peasants in society. Before I answer I’d like to share Tolstoy’s own thoughts on his masterpiece. Tolstoy wrote Anna Karenina in installments (published in the Russian Messenger) from 1874-1877. His eager start to the novel began to slow towards the end of this time, due mainly to the changes going on in his personal life. Tolstoy was saddened by the loss of several relatives (three of them children), and became more and more occupied with providing an education for the peasants that worked his land. He also underwent a spiritual epiphany at this time and renounced the Russian Orthodox Church. He eventually gave up all his property and possessions, became a vegetarian, and practiced celibacy. Anna’s story of aristocracy and the over indulgence of society was of little interest to him. In November 1875, Tolstoy wrote to a friend, “My God, if only someone would finish Anna Karenina for me. Unbearably repulsive.”
While I won’t go as far as Tolstoy, am I glad I read this book? No, not really. Portions were entertaining, and it certainly started off well; but somewhere in the middle it became somewhat muddled and began to stall. Towards the end it became clear that there would be few, if any, resolutions to the questions brought up, and that Tolstoy did not intend to tie up all of the loose ends. Tolstoy left his novel true to real life, complete with messy story lines that aren’t completely resolved and characters who never learn anything.
In related news, I did hear that a play adaptation of Dostoyevsky’s “The Demons” is coming to New York this summer, if anyone’s interested. It’s 12 hours long and completely in Italian.
17 down; 13 to go
Sunday, July 11, 2010
#22: Go Skinny Dipping
Text from Mandy:
It's dark, you should go skinny dipping.
Text reply to Mandy:
Done :)
16 down; 14 to go
It's dark, you should go skinny dipping.
Text reply to Mandy:
Done :)
16 down; 14 to go
#20: Plant an Herb Garden
I was looking forward to this item on the list because I like having fresh herbs to cook with, but also because I knew it would be one of the easier tasks to complete. …And then I forgot to do it until mid-July. As it turns out, mid-July is a little late in the season to be buying herbs, so what I’ve ended up with is a motley collections of herbs.
Tarragon is on the bottom left. I did want tarragon for the garden, I cook with it fairly often in the spring and summer. Tarragon, also called dragon’s wort or dragon’s herb, is one of the four primary herbs used in French cooking.
Peppermint is on the bottom right. Peppermint is a hybrid mint, a cross between watermind and spearmint. As a hybrid, it is sterile and doesn’t produce any seeds. Peppermint has a high menthol content and is commonly used in tea, and ice cream.
Parsley is on the upper right. I think everyone is familiar with parsley, its commonly used as a garnish in European and American cooking. Its tea can also be used for an enema. Mmmm!
Lavender is on the upper left. This particular type of Lavender is Munstead Lavender, which is able to tolerate heat better than other varieties. It is the best smelling herb in the pot. It can’t really be used for cooking, its primary uses are for perfumes and potpourris.
I had originally wanted to plant thyme, oregano, and possibly cilantro… but I guess lavender, parsley, and peppermint will have to do. Herb garden complete, and that means we’re officially halfway through the list!!
15 down; 15 to go
Tarragon is on the bottom left. I did want tarragon for the garden, I cook with it fairly often in the spring and summer. Tarragon, also called dragon’s wort or dragon’s herb, is one of the four primary herbs used in French cooking.
Peppermint is on the bottom right. Peppermint is a hybrid mint, a cross between watermind and spearmint. As a hybrid, it is sterile and doesn’t produce any seeds. Peppermint has a high menthol content and is commonly used in tea, and ice cream.
Parsley is on the upper right. I think everyone is familiar with parsley, its commonly used as a garnish in European and American cooking. Its tea can also be used for an enema. Mmmm!
Lavender is on the upper left. This particular type of Lavender is Munstead Lavender, which is able to tolerate heat better than other varieties. It is the best smelling herb in the pot. It can’t really be used for cooking, its primary uses are for perfumes and potpourris.
I had originally wanted to plant thyme, oregano, and possibly cilantro… but I guess lavender, parsley, and peppermint will have to do. Herb garden complete, and that means we’re officially halfway through the list!!
15 down; 15 to go
Saturday, July 10, 2010
More Updates...
Is this list getting longer? I feel like it is, 25 days and counting and so much left to do. But I committed to finishing so I’ll do whatever it takes to get it done. The hard half of the list (skydiving, camping, Fenway) is over, so it’s just about time management now. Here are a few updates…
- Fundraising!!! I think all of you should have gotten a compelling letter from me by now, inviting you to visit my donation site: www.firstgiving.com/allisonbass. I’m raising money for The Water Project to do what I can for the African water crisis. It’s a good cause, for most impoverished communities in Africa they are living on top of water and money is the only barrier to reaching it. The Water Project doesn’t just provide wells, they set up a community board to govern the well’s use, employ local labor to build the wells, and teach the residents sanitary habits. It may seem simple since we’ve never been without easy access to clean water, but it changes everything in third world countries. So please contribute. A donation of just $10 provides water for one person for TEN years!!
- The 10k is set for July 18th. Currently I feel like I can run about -1 miles. I haven’t been running much at all because I’ve been so busy at work and travelling every weekend. All I can say is at least I didn’t put ‘run a marathon’ on the list. At this point it’s just going to be a huge mental challenge to push myself through it, which is why I’ve enlisted the help of both Kevin and Mike B, who are both extremely mentally tough. I can count on them to make sure I finish, even if I don’t want to after mile 3.
- Skinny dipping. I think it would be weird if I told you all my plans for this one. Also, I want to inform you all in advance, this post will have no pictures.
- French Wine. I’ve been working my way through the major wine regions in France, which by the way is counter-productive to my 10k training. I’m sure finishing off a few more bottles in the next weeks won’t be a problem. This is one of the easiest, and most relaxing, items on the list.
- Anna, Anna, Anna… who told me this was a love story? They lied. This is a commentary on the social, political, and economic climates of 1870s Russia! It’s long, it’s fairly boring, and lately Anna’s character is really starting to annoy me. Oh, I want to live with my lover, but I don’t want to divorce my husband and I miss my son… blah blah blah, stop being so selfish. Anyway, I have about 150 pages to go, should be done by next week.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
#3: Leave the gun. Take the Cannoli. (aka watch all three Godfather movies)
Several folks were shocked that I had never seen the Godfather trilogy when they saw it on the list. Well, I was -8 years old when the first movie came out, so I think that has something to do with it. But given the fact that several people rank the first Godfather as the greatest movie ever made, I thought it would be worth a try. So here’s the review:This movie is absolutely amazing. I watched it and immediately wanted to watch it again. I couldn’t get enough Brando. I know some of the actors weren’t well known at the time (the studio adamantly refused to cast Pacino, but Coppola threatened to walk away from the project), but what an all-star cast! I can’t imagine what this movie would have become with Ernest Borgnine as Don Corleone, or worse, Robert Redford as Michael (both of whom Paramount wanted to cast).
Best of all, I now have an appreciation for all the famous lines commonly quoted. “Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes.” “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” And best of all:
"I don't care how many dago guinea WOP greaseball gumbas come out of the woodwork! [Tom: I'm German-Irish] Well let me tell you something, my Kraut Mick friend! I'm gonna make so much trouble for you, you won't know what hit you!"
The second movie was also good, but I found myself more excited for the scenes with Deniro as a young Vito Andolini than for Pacino’s scenes. And the third movie sort of lost me, granted it was made in 1990, 16 years after Part II debuted. But the Vatican, really Coppola? It was a little too much for me.
This trilogy and its heavy impact on pop culture got me thinking about which movies have done the same for my generation. Another tale involving an Italian American family of bandits (the Fratellis) comes to mind. The Goonies is just pure quality, and always fun to quote in a room full of 25-35 year olds. Example, next time you want your friends’ attention, just shout ‘Hey You Guys’ Sloth-style. Problem solved. Yup, Goonies, best movie of my generation. Well, that or Spaceballs. I mean, there are two sides to every Schwartz.
quattordici down; sedici to go
Monday, June 28, 2010
#23: Skydive
"If riding in an airplane is flying, then riding in a boat is swimming. If you want to experience the element, then get out of the vehicle."
I slept well Saturday night, and barely even thought about what the next day would hold. I woke up, made some coffee and watched a little TV. It wasn’t until I got in the shower and really started thinking about the day that I got nervous. I just kept trying to imagine what it would feel like to be standing in the open door of the plane, 13,000 feet above land, about to jump. I couldn’t imagine it at all, and that was what terrified me. I had no idea how my body was going to react or what it was going to feel like, and that scared me even more. Kevin asked if I was scared of getting hurt (what he really meant was dying), and I said no, I was more afraid of the fear itself, and having to force my body to jump when it was screaming not to.
We left the house and drove to Richmond to pick up Mike B, who would be jumping with us. The three of us drove to West Point, VA together, getting more and more scared along the way. As we turned onto Airport Rd the whole car was filled with nervous, hysterical giggles. We parked at the regional airport, and walked over to a hangar filled mainly with guys in their early twenties. There were a few people packing parachutes, an older co ed team practicing the formation they would do up in the air, and others just sitting around waiting. We signed several waivers, each indicating in bold letters that we were waiving important legal rights. Undeterred, we paid our money and nervously took a seat on an old couch with about 4 other first time jumpers. We watched a short video again informing us that we had waived our rights and neither us, our survivors, next of kin, assigns, attorneys etc could bring suit against West Point Skydive in the event of serious injury or death. Very comforting. After that, an instructor showed us the harness we would be wearing, and the parachute our tandem instructor would be wearing. He explained the full process of how the harness held us together, what position to take when jumping, how to land, etc. After that brief meeting, our tandems came over to introduce themselves.
My instructor was Mike and he was terrific. He gave me a jumpsuit, a helmet and goggles and then got me fitted into my harness. Then he very patiently listened while I told him that I was terrified, that I did not want to do any crazy flips, dives or spins, and did I mention I was terrified? I asked him about 393 questions while he strapped on the 70 lbs parachute and took a seat to wait for the plane. We didn’t wait long. Three minutes later the plane pulled up and Mike asked if I was ready.
We walked in twos to the plane, each instructor holding the back of their student’s harness. There were five jumpers in our group. The plane was filled to capacity. Inside, my instructor straddled a bench and I slid back to sit between his legs. Another duo sat in front of us, and two more pairs sat right next to us on another bench. Mike B and his instructor sat on the floor of the plane, right in front of the see thru door we would be jumping out of. In fact, as soon as we got in the air, they opened the door halfway, and poor Mike realized his experience looked nothing like the training video we had watched. His instructor was sitting in front of him, rather than behind.
The plane climbed higher into the air, and I took a few deep breaths with my instructor. I couldn’t believe how calm I felt. I think I’m more jittery typing this now, than I was on the plane. Adrenaline must have already taken over at that point. I remember thinking over and over again, I can’t believe I’m not more scared. Mike started to fidget behind me and I could feel him attach our harnesses at the bottom. We flew a little higher and he told me to go ahead and put my helmet on. As we neared the drop zone, he had me sit up into his lap as he hooked our shoulders together. He told me when it was time, he would ask “are you ready to skydive?” at which point I had to say Yes, and then we would jump. We reached our altitude of 13,000 feet and the plane leveled off, creating a sinking feeling in my stomach.
The door was opened all the way, and the air rushed into my face. I was sitting at the front of the plane, and there were four tandems to jump in front of me. Mike B was up first. Somehow he and his instructor had managed to switch around and get their harnesses connected. Mike B is a pretty tall guy, so his instructor actually had him kneel in the doorway, and when it was time, the pair just leaned forward and flipped out of the plane. It looked terrifying from my view point. Kevin was up next, and he and his instructor also made for a fairly tall team. They ended up on their knees in the doorway and also seemed to just tumble out of the open door in a way that I’m not sure was entirely intentional. As I watched the man I love’s feet roll over his head and disappear out of the plane, I again thought I should be more scared. But there was just no time to think; it all happened so quickly. As soon as Kevin rolled out of the plane, the group sitting in front of me waddled to the door. As soon as they were there, my instructor had me scoot to the front of the bench and then support my weight in a squat position as we got off the bench. By this time the team in front of us had gone, I never even saw them jump. I waddled over to the doorway, and just stared out. My right toe had caught the edge of a seatbelt, and just to be safe my instructor moved it out of the way before proceeding. He asked if I was ready to skydive, and someone else’s voice shouted a definitive, “Yes!” We rocked forward, rocked back, and then rolled out of the plane. I assume we must have flipped around at least once or twice but I couldn’t tell. For about one second I had that terrible dropping feeling that you get when you ride a roller coaster and I was mad. Everyone had assured me that was not how it would feel. But it went away as fast as it came on. As soon as my mind could no longer register the distance from the plane, it no longer felt like dropping. All I remember thinking the whole time was I DID IT. I’M SKYDIVING. THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING, RIGHT NOW!!!
The closest thing I can compare it to would be swimming under water. The major difference is that instead of your legs or feet propelling you, all the work is being done courtesy of gravity, and you are free to just enjoy the ride. It’s incredible. I had asked my instructor to pull the rip cord for me, as I didn’t want to be responsible for anything on my jump. I was so scared I would hyperventilate or faint, that I thought the less I had to remember the better. I was still loving the free fall when I felt him check the altimeter and pull the chute at 6,000 feet. A sharp jerking motion ensued and I was suddenly dangling from a parachute high above the ground. It was beautiful. I could see miles of river cutting its way through the greenery on its meandering path to the coast. My instructor had me grab the handles and I practiced steering the parachute a few times. At that point the harness started to become really uncomfortable where it was digging into my shoulders and thighs. I put my hands back down to try and get some more blood back into them. We circled lower to the landing site, and I watched relieved as Kevin glided safely to the ground. We circled around again and coasted toward the grass as I pulled my knees up toward my chest. We approached the ground so smoothly that I landed right on my feet and immediately stood up. Mike B and Kevin came over to greet me while I high fived my instructor. The three of us walked back to the hangar, all smiling from ear to ear.
I’m so proud that I did this, and I know I would never have done it without this list. This project has made me commit to trying new things, some of which have been way outside of my comfort level, and it’s been an amazing ride so far. I would recommend skydiving to anyone, just the experience of pushing yourself beyond your fear was incredible. And I know three people who would love to take you whenever you’re ready.
13 down; 17 to go
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
#6: Visit NY's MoMA
This past weekend Kevin and I had a blast on a short trip to NYC, which again just goes to show you how much fun I’m having with this list. We would probably have talked about it, but never actually have taken the time to make this trip without the impending deadline of ‘the list.’ And I’m so glad we did, we had a great time.
First, I have a confession to make… after booking this trip to NYC I checked the MoMA’s website. I knew it stood for the Museum of Modern Art, but what I failed to realize was that I don’t really like modern art. To be accurate, it’s not that I don’t like it; rather I just love history so much more. I realized what I really wanted to see was the Metropolitan Museum of Art. So instead of going to the MoMA, as my list would make you believe, we headed to the Met instead. And again, it’s my blog, so I’ll do what I want!
First, I have a confession to make… after booking this trip to NYC I checked the MoMA’s website. I knew it stood for the Museum of Modern Art, but what I failed to realize was that I don’t really like modern art. To be accurate, it’s not that I don’t like it; rather I just love history so much more. I realized what I really wanted to see was the Metropolitan Museum of Art. So instead of going to the MoMA, as my list would make you believe, we headed to the Met instead. And again, it’s my blog, so I’ll do what I want!
The Met was amazing. My guess is that Kevin and I saw less than half of the exhibits, it is absolutely huge. But what we did see was fantastic, we spent the majority of our time in the 18-19th century paintings, where we saw Monet, Degas, Dali, Seurat, Matisse, Van Gogh and El Greco. One piece that caught my attention was Jules Bastien-Lepage’s Joan of Arc (1879). This picture doesn’t do it justice, it is awe-inspiring in person. In the image below you can barely make out the ghost like forms of the saints whose voices she heard; in the actual painting it is their halos that stand out, leading your eye to find their hidden images.
After our trip through the Met, we sat at the Rink Bar in Rockefeller Center (where the ice rink is in the winter) for a few drinks. Then we went back to the hotel, changed clothes and headed out for dinner and a show. The show was ‘Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson’ at the Public Theater, and it blew away all expectations. It was a historical, satirical comedy with an emo-punk score, and we were right in the front row for the whole thing. The star, Ben Walker, recently signed on for a lead role in the next X-Men movie (he’ll play Beast), so we’re hoping he makes it big and we’ll say we saw him when!
12 down; 18 to go
Monday, June 14, 2010
#25: Go Camping with no Supplies
I wish I knew where to start on this report. I can’t even find the right words to describe to all of you how absolutely horrible this trip was.
First of all, I’m fairly certain that no one is reading this blog, because I would like to think that someone would have stopped me from going on this god awful trip in the first place. I thought that the hardest item on my list would be skydiving, but that only reinforces my stupidity when it comes to this camping trip. Luckily, I had two friends with me who are either the best friends on earth, or equally stupid.
Kevin, Mike B and I set off for a camping adventure this past Saturday. We started off in Sandbridge, VA to hike our way through Back Bay Wildlife Refuge and into False Cape State Park, where we would be camping for the night, sans supplies. We each had a backpack filled with water, a few protein bars, and a knife. Oh, and sunscreen and bug spray, which are required (you’ll understand why shortly) by the park rangers. That was it for supplies: no tent, no sleeping bags. We were ‘roughing it’ in every sense of the expression.
The hike through the wildlife refuge is 6.2 miles. It’s beautiful, but there was not a scrap of shade to be found. We were being roasted by the sun. There was a fairly consistent breeze being that close to the coast, but when the air was still it felt so heavy it could choke us. There were swarms, I mean entire herds, of horseflies. You could not walk two feet with smacking into them. It would have been pretty had we been standing from a distance. We also saw several different types of birds and a few snakes (ahhhhh!), and the landscape was breathtaking. Or maybe we just couldn’t catch our breath because of the intense heat. We did a poor job of planning this trip, which I take full responsibility for. Earlier in the week, I checked the weather and saw the possibility of isolated thunderstorms and hoped it wouldn’t rain on us. By the time we got to our campsite, I was praying it would rain.
After the first 6.2 miles, we were through the refuge and into False Cape State park. We walked another mile to the Visitor’s center, and found it was air conditioned!! They also had drinking water for us to fill up our bottles. We took a 20 minute break, and then continued on the additional 3 miles to our campsite. By this time I had a raging headache. I was so hot, but the new water was so thick with chemicals and chlorine it made me sick. We had to take several breaks along the way, and I just kept repeating “Don’t give up” in my head. We finally made it to the campsite and I think all of us had a moment of “now what” as we pulled off our packs and sat down at the picnic table. I stretched out in the sand and went to sleep. The boys hiked the last tenth of a mile to the beach.
As I lay in our campsite I thought I might die. My head hurt so badly and I could feel that I was dehydrated, but the more water I drank, the more nauseous I felt. I knew I was suffering from heat exhaustion, but what could I do? There was no way I was able to turn around and hike the 9 miles back to the car. I laid there and fell asleep again, hoping it would pass. I woke up about 20 minutes later and felt worse. Of the 12 campsites at this park, all had been reserved for the weekend. Due to the heat, only two parties actually made it out, and the other happened to be camped right across from us. They walked over and told us that somehow, someway, they were getting out of there—and asked if we wanted to join them. I thought about it, and being with two stubborn Irish boys, I realized if I didn’t throw in the towel, they never would… no matter how bad they felt. I thought about how awful I felt, and considered pushing through anyway. And then I thought, I’m a 29 year old woman suffering from heat exhaustion and laying in the sand with ants, ticks, and flies all over me… and for what, just to prove I can? I told them I was sick and I wanted to leave too. Another few hours went by and finally the park rangers came to pick us up. They told us the heat index was over 110 degrees, and it probably wasn’t safe for us to stay out there.
So you can count this as a success or a failure. Personally I count it as a success, and it’s my blog, so mine is the only vote that matters. I made it through the hike to the campsite even though I wanted to give up most of the time. And although you may not be thinking that’s any great accomplishment, I’m telling you-- you weren’t there, it was excruciating. It makes my upcoming all-inclusive trip to Cancun look that much better.
11 down; 19 to go
Thursday, June 10, 2010
#5: Cook Julia Child's Beef Bourguignon
Inspired by Meryl Streep's amazing portrayal of Julia Child in the movie Julie and Julia, or perhaps because of my love of impersonating French accents, I added this one to the list. If you’ve seen Julie and Julia, you know the dish. Beef Bourguignon (boeuf bourguignon in French) is really just a fancy pot roast made with red wine.
Since we’ve been talking about inspirational people lately, let’s add Julia Child to the list. When asked what she thought accounted for her longevity, she answered “red meat and gin.” That’s a health plan I can get onboard with. But more seriously, her best advice is to “find something you’re passionate about and keep tremendously interested in it.” Personally, I’m still searching for that one outlet or passion that I keep just for me, but I’m certainly having fun in the meantime. And of course, it’s never too late to pursue a new passion, Julia was 32 when she started cooking, as she notes, “up until then, I just ate.”
Here if the final product, I served it over some crusty French bread rubbed with garlic, and it was exceptional. Also, this gave me a terrific opportunity to start my wine tour (for #26) through France. We had a wine from the Bordeaux region—it was good, but gave me a bad headache the next day.
Since we’ve been talking about inspirational people lately, let’s add Julia Child to the list. When asked what she thought accounted for her longevity, she answered “red meat and gin.” That’s a health plan I can get onboard with. But more seriously, her best advice is to “find something you’re passionate about and keep tremendously interested in it.” Personally, I’m still searching for that one outlet or passion that I keep just for me, but I’m certainly having fun in the meantime. And of course, it’s never too late to pursue a new passion, Julia was 32 when she started cooking, as she notes, “up until then, I just ate.”
I do enjoy cooking, and over the past year my skills have definitely improved. I particularly love cooking French food, mainly due to the fact that most recipes involve wine. This means I’m required to have a glass while cooking, and it also makes the house smell wonderful. Beef bourguignon was no exception, as you pour the wine into the hot dish it sizzles and a heavenly smell floats up, making even the most novice of cooks feel like a gourmet chef.
Here if the final product, I served it over some crusty French bread rubbed with garlic, and it was exceptional. Also, this gave me a terrific opportunity to start my wine tour (for #26) through France. We had a wine from the Bordeaux region—it was good, but gave me a bad headache the next day. Bon Appetit!
10 down; 20 to go
Sidenote on Stinkhorns
I had to take a moment to interrupt my normal blogging activities to ask you all…. WHAT IS THIS? What is this disgusting thing growing in my flower bed?
I came out of the house yesterday morning, locked the door and inspected my flowers as I was walking to my car. One of my new additions isn’t doing too well, I suspect it has to do with my neighbor allowing her dog to pee on it each morning. I haven’t yet been able to catch her in the act, but I’ve found the paw prints. Personally, I don’t think expandable leashes should mean that your dog is able to run from the sidewalk into my flower bed. But I digress…
During my quick morning glance, I saw this! This odd looking carrot-ish thing growing next to a azalea. My curiosity piqued, I walked over for closer inspection. It was about 4 inches high, orange, with a brown tip. I was baffled, how could something grow 4 inches overnight?
I drug Kevin out to inspect it as soon as I got home, and he was equally amazed and disgusted. The brown tip I had observed earlier now looked wet and smeared in poop. Kevin bravely poked it with a stick and we found out it was hollow and spongey.
While I made dinner, Kevin googled “what is this orange penis growing in my garden” and found out it is the Stinkhorn fungus, named quite appropriately. It is commonly found in commercial mulch, so after you stock up from Lowe’s you might find some in your garden. It’s not known to be poisonous, but the website cautioned that you shouldn’t eat it. Oh, good, thanks for the warning.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
#18: Shoot a Handgun
My friend Joey suggested adding this one to the list and it made it in just under the wire. In fairness, Joe had suggested several items, but most tended toward the ridiculous (swim with polar bears, really?). But he made a strong case for this one, and on the list it went.
I have never shot a gun before, well, as long as we aren’t counting bb guns. Guns actually scare me a bit. I’ve never been a fan of loud noises—or deadly weapons for that matter. I put this one on the list because why not? This list is all about trying new things. And in the off chance I’m ever holding a gun between me and an attacker, I’m sure I would like to know how to use it.
While at my Uncle’s house this past weekend the topic of handguns came up, and when Karl found out it was on the list, a target was quickly put up and ammo brought out. And I was grateful to try this with a trusted instructor, versus feeling like an out of place idiot at a gun range.
First I shot a .22 revolver. I was nervous, not knowing what to expect as far as noise and force once I pulled the trigger. I carefully took aim and fired. And I hit my target, only about an inch down from the bullseye! I fired a few more rounds with the .22 revolver, improving almost every time. Then Karl switched me over to a .22 semi automatic target pistol. The words “semi automatic” are a bit daunting, but I took aim and fired again. Once again I hit my target consistently. At this point I was feeling overly confident, but it was short lived.
My uncle handed me a snubnose .38, and told me I would only be shooting this gun once. He also warned me this one would be much louder than the previous two. I didn’t realize to what extent. Since I only had one shot, I lined up my target, steadied my hands, and did my best to squeeze the trigger smoothly. The resulting sound terrified me. I heard a high pitch ringing, but everything else was muffled and distant. I immediately shied away and handed the gun back to my uncle. I could hear Kevin and Mom laughing, but it sounded like they were under water. I instantly understood those slow motion drama scenes in war movies, where the confused hero loses hearing after a gun is shot too close by.
All in all, I learned I’m a pretty good shot. And perhaps most satisfying, Kevin finally admitted that I might be good at archery—a little known fact I shared with him on our first date and a point of contention between us ever since. But you read it here first… I am both an archery ace and a crack shot!
9 down; 21 to go
Thursday, June 3, 2010
#24: Take a Shot with my Uncle
Most childhood heroes tend to fall from grace as we grow up. You find out Santa Claus is more of a spirit than an actual man, not all policemen are good, and even Michael Jordan has a gambling problem. As we move further along into adulthood we lose the innocence and naivety through which we once viewed the world, and we begin to realize that few people can live up to the pedestal we’ve placed them on. But if we’re very lucky (or perhaps still a bit naïve) we can keep just one of those heroes alive.Growing up, I idolized my Uncle Karl. He was a big kid himself,
my own personal walking, talking jungle gym. After visits to his house my “What I did Over Summer Vacation” essays were filled with tales of learning to ride a horse, drive a tractor, fly an airplane, and throw a punch. My Uncle instilled his love of the beach in me, and taught me how to dive under the waves to avoid getting caught in the breaking point. He also taught me how to drive a stick shift at the age of 15, a practical skill I will forever be thankful for. From watching him, I learned the importance of being able to relax, kick back, open a cold one, and simply soak up a day.More than a teacher, Uncle Karl has been an inspiration too. His life has been far from easy, but rather than complain he found a way to commit to the things he loves and embrace all the moments along the way. As a younger man he taught himself how to play the guitar and joined a band. Later he decided to try Karate and became a black belt. To take it further, he built his own dojo and became a sensei, teaching martial arts to kids. At some point he thought he’d like to fly a plane and rather than simply taking a lesson, he got his pilot’s license. He just doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘halfway’, with him it’s all or nothing. Once he makes up his mind, he is unwavering in his commitment towards his goal, something I have yet to master. In contrast, I feel like I am someone who starts several things, but finishes few; and it’s something I am continuing to work on (and a lot of what this blog is about). My Uncle Karl has unknowingly helped to motivate me in this pursuit.
When making this list I purposely left several of the objectives vague. I wanted to make sure I left enough room in the goals so that I would be able to achieve them all, no matter what came up over the next few months. For that reason, you’ll see open-ended items like “build something” on the list. I didn’t include any particular friends, family members or details, save one. “Take a shot with my Uncle” was put on the list to celebrate our relationship, and all the lessons he’s taught me… and you should never turn down a drink with a role model.
8 down; 22 to go
Thursday, May 27, 2010
#8: Take a Swing at the Batting Cages
When I was younger, my brother and I would play baseball in the backyard. We had this perfect diamond layout with a small pine standing as umpire, a large maple at first, a sapling at second, and a young crabapple tree at third. My brother and I, having moved around a lot and used to adapting games to only two players, had adjusted the normal rules of baseball to suit our needs. Our game involved the use of several ghostmen, and a lot of theoretical debates over whether said ghostmen were safe or not.
I was not athletic growing up. My family was not heavily involved in sports, and I was not formally introduced to team sports until high school. For me, my most memorable athletic moments came in that backyard with my brother, when I would hit a ball that would go flying into a neighbor's yard two doors down. It wasn't until years later when I realized we had been hitting tennis balls with an aluminum bat; of course it went flying. But at the time, it was the first indication that perhaps I could try something athletic and not suck at it. Those memories are what inspired me to add the batting cages to my list.
Tonight started as one of those magical evenings that Kevin and I have every so often. He called on the way home to exclaim on what a beautiful night it was and to say he would stop along the way for a box of Rocks. I met him on the patio where we began to casually discuss life and our days in general. One of us came up with the idea of a small game of catch out in the front yard, and we grabbed gloves and a ball and headed out. From there I mentioned the fact that we still needed to go to the batting cages to cross it off my list, and Kevin spontaneously suggested we go now.
As we stepped into the cage I asked Kevin where the helmets were and he informed me that it wasn't really necessary in the slow pitch softball cages. I asked him to evaluate my swing beforehand and I could immediately see from the look on his face that I needed a lot of work. I dropped my token and tried my best. The slowness of the pitch caught me off guard as far as the timing of my swing. Further, klutz that I am, I somehow managed to put the first two fingers of my right hand in the path of the ball during one swing. It hurt and I cursed, but stepped back up to the plate. Kevin tried to give me a few pointers, while I tried through trial and error to adjust my swing. Overall, I found out I am not the prodigy hitter that I had imagined myself at age 7. But I had fun in a "I tried something new and was challenged" sort of way. And that's really what this whole list is about.
***Not my best swing featured in the picture, but it's the only one that came out.
7 down; 23 to go
I was not athletic growing up. My family was not heavily involved in sports, and I was not formally introduced to team sports until high school. For me, my most memorable athletic moments came in that backyard with my brother, when I would hit a ball that would go flying into a neighbor's yard two doors down. It wasn't until years later when I realized we had been hitting tennis balls with an aluminum bat; of course it went flying. But at the time, it was the first indication that perhaps I could try something athletic and not suck at it. Those memories are what inspired me to add the batting cages to my list.
Tonight started as one of those magical evenings that Kevin and I have every so often. He called on the way home to exclaim on what a beautiful night it was and to say he would stop along the way for a box of Rocks. I met him on the patio where we began to casually discuss life and our days in general. One of us came up with the idea of a small game of catch out in the front yard, and we grabbed gloves and a ball and headed out. From there I mentioned the fact that we still needed to go to the batting cages to cross it off my list, and Kevin spontaneously suggested we go now.
As we stepped into the cage I asked Kevin where the helmets were and he informed me that it wasn't really necessary in the slow pitch softball cages. I asked him to evaluate my swing beforehand and I could immediately see from the look on his face that I needed a lot of work. I dropped my token and tried my best. The slowness of the pitch caught me off guard as far as the timing of my swing. Further, klutz that I am, I somehow managed to put the first two fingers of my right hand in the path of the ball during one swing. It hurt and I cursed, but stepped back up to the plate. Kevin tried to give me a few pointers, while I tried through trial and error to adjust my swing. Overall, I found out I am not the prodigy hitter that I had imagined myself at age 7. But I had fun in a "I tried something new and was challenged" sort of way. And that's really what this whole list is about.
***Not my best swing featured in the picture, but it's the only one that came out.
7 down; 23 to go
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Updates
Some of you may have noticed that I’ve only completed six items on my list so far, and may be concerned about the speed with which August is approaching. Not to worry my friends, I have a plan.
Here are a few updates regarding my progress with some ongoing projects:
Here are a few updates regarding my progress with some ongoing projects:
- The 10k date is set. I pushed it out as far as I could to allow as much time as possible for training. I’ll be running the Rosaryville 10k Trail Run on July 18th. Currently I’m running 2-3 miles at a time. I’m fairly comfortable with three miles, but I haven’t attempted four yet, so we’ll see what happens. 10k = 6.2 miles; so I have a ways to go, but it doesn’t seem as impossible as it did a month ago.
- June is going to be FUNDRAISING month!! So please keep an eye on your mailboxes/inboxes for a touching letter from me which will hopefully inspire you to donate a little bit for a good cause.
- Anna Karenina. Oh Anna, why is your story so long, and so… Russian—the names are killing me!! Kidding… I’m about a quarter of the way into Tolstoy’s tale and I’m really enjoying it. For something written in 1873, it manages to stay surprisingly current. I guess love affairs will always be the same.
- #23, still terrified. A date has been set, and the non refundable deposit has been paid. That’s all I will say for now, because even thinking about it fills me with anxiety.
- Camping trip to False Cape state park for some “primitive” camping has been planned. The campsite is only accessible by foot or boat, has no bathrooms, no supply of drinking water, and is a 9 mile hike from the parking area where you leave your car. Should be interesting.
More posts coming soon… I’ll be in Richmond this weekend visiting friends, and will hopefully have a chance to cross off a few more things on the list.
Monday, May 17, 2010
#30: See a Game at Fenway Park
There’s a sign outside the stadium that reads, “Welcome to Fenway Park, America’s Most Beloved Ballpark.” After my first visit, it’s not hard to see why.
Opened in 1912, it’s the oldest Major League Baseball stadium currently in use. If you haven’t been there, you should go. For one thing, it involves a trip to Boston, one of the oldest and most storied cities in our country's history. If you aren’t at least a little awed to be walking along the same streets as Paul Revere, Ben Franklin and Cliff Clavin, you must not have a pulse.
The stadium is situated right in the city, next to Boston University and blends in well with its surroundings. You can walk right up to it before you realize you’re entering a professional sports arena. The venue itself is small and harkens back to a different time. You almost feel like you’re back in the classic era of Ted Williams, Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig. You can imagine yourself watching a game in the 30s, surrounded by families coming out to enjoy America’s favorite pastime, singing ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame’. It is so much less about computerized ad graphics, steroids, and free-agents; and more about one team simply trying to claim the day. The scoreboard on the Green Monster is still changed by hand, by an actual person.
Kevin and I flew into Boston for the weekend, and met up with some friends, Bunny and Liz. We had tickets to see the Yankees play the Red Sox for a Saturday afternoon game. It had been raining all morning, but seemed to clear up just in time for the game. It was a good thing too because our tickets were “Standing Room Only” on the roof, down the right field line.
At some point during the sixth inning I ducked down to the ladies room and while washing my hands, heard about the rain delay of the Red Sox game on TV. Apparently in the three minutes I had been gone, the bottom had dropped out of the sky and it began to pour. The wind blew so hard that our neighbors’ umbrella immediately turned Mary Poppins style inside out upon opening. Liz’s umbrella snapped in two.
Undaunted, my Knight in Shining Armor (a.k.a. drunk Kevin) ran with the useless bottom half of Liz’s umbrella down to the restrooms to retrieve me. We huddled around the stadium bar for cover as much as possible and waited. At some point we gave up on the umbrella and the game and journeyed back to the bar, after buying some new (read “dry”) Red Sox gear.
From that point on we enjoyed an evening out in Boston. We awoke to a beautiful sunny day, and a great view of the Charles River from our hotel room (thanks D!!), and flew home.
6 down; 24 to go
Thursday, May 6, 2010
#19: Bake a Pineapple Upside Down Cake
When I was little my dad would beg my mom to make Pineapple Upside Down Cakes for any occasion, and whenever she agreed, he would dance around the house with the joy of a school boy. I was less than overjoyed to say the least.
I didn’t like most fruits when I was young, a fact that I find hard to believe now. I didn’t like apples because I thought they were too hard, I didn’t like oranges because of the peeling involved, and I have no idea why I didn’t like strawberries… probably because my big brother told me I didn’t and I believed him. I absolutely did not like coconut and I still don’t. I have tried it several times, although usually by mistake. Is there anything worse that picking a chocolate out of box and biting into it, only to realize you choose the icky coconut piece? Needless to say I always gave away any Mounds or Almond Joys to my brother after trick-or-treating. Because I hated coconut, I logically decided (with my sound seven year old logic) that I hated all fruit flavors from the tropical genre, pineapple included. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Pineapple, especially fresh pineapple, is delicious!
Equipped with this new knowledge, one of my friends recommended baking a pineapple upside down cake for my list and I thought I would give it a try. This past weekend I celebrated my mom’s birthday, and in what Kevin would call a “two birds move,” I volunteered to bake the cake. No mixes used here, this was a scratch effort. I blended my flour, sugar and eggs together and the resulting batter took me right back to my childhood. The taste was so sweet it made my throat itchy. I remembered licking the bowl when I was little and vowing never to buy a spatula when I had kids, so as not to rob them of that joy. I hated my mom’s spatulas; wooden spoons left behind so much more. I poured my batter over my pineapple and brown sugar mix, and popped it in the oven. It came out beautifully (pictures coming soon) and tasted even better.
So now that I know I can do it… Dad, get ready to dance with joy for Father’s Day!!
5 down; 25 to go
I didn’t like most fruits when I was young, a fact that I find hard to believe now. I didn’t like apples because I thought they were too hard, I didn’t like oranges because of the peeling involved, and I have no idea why I didn’t like strawberries… probably because my big brother told me I didn’t and I believed him. I absolutely did not like coconut and I still don’t. I have tried it several times, although usually by mistake. Is there anything worse that picking a chocolate out of box and biting into it, only to realize you choose the icky coconut piece? Needless to say I always gave away any Mounds or Almond Joys to my brother after trick-or-treating. Because I hated coconut, I logically decided (with my sound seven year old logic) that I hated all fruit flavors from the tropical genre, pineapple included. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Pineapple, especially fresh pineapple, is delicious!
Equipped with this new knowledge, one of my friends recommended baking a pineapple upside down cake for my list and I thought I would give it a try. This past weekend I celebrated my mom’s birthday, and in what Kevin would call a “two birds move,” I volunteered to bake the cake. No mixes used here, this was a scratch effort. I blended my flour, sugar and eggs together and the resulting batter took me right back to my childhood. The taste was so sweet it made my throat itchy. I remembered licking the bowl when I was little and vowing never to buy a spatula when I had kids, so as not to rob them of that joy. I hated my mom’s spatulas; wooden spoons left behind so much more. I poured my batter over my pineapple and brown sugar mix, and popped it in the oven. It came out beautifully (pictures coming soon) and tasted even better.
So now that I know I can do it… Dad, get ready to dance with joy for Father’s Day!!
5 down; 25 to go
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