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:

• 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.

#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

#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

#28: Bet on a Horse Race

Having lived in Richmond, I have been to the Strawberry Hill Races at least five times in my life and am ashamed to say I have never actually seen a horse there, much less a race. Hence, #28 Bet on a Horserace. Plus, gambling is fun.

Located in Martinsville, VA at the home of Dave and Reneé Scott, The Dead Kings Bar and Dart Lounge has attracted visitors from across the country. Kevin and I had to plan a visit to see it for ourselves. Kevin’s brother Dave teaches high school and coaches the Bassett High baseball team. We drove into Martinsville on a Friday afternoon, just in time to catch the last half of a game and to see one of Coach Scott’s players almost knock himself unconscious against the outfield wall. Don’t worry, he was okay. Then two of Dave’s kids hit back to back homeruns, making it the most exciting HS baseball game I had ever seen (also the only HS baseball game I had ever seen). Post game, we drove to the Dead Kings Bar, where Reneé and I lounged at the bar while Kevin and Dave played darts.

The next morning our hosts drove us over to the Colonial Downs Off Track Betting site so I could pick my pony and place my bet. The boys grabbed a few race books and seats at the bar while Reneé explained what was going on. You can pick a horse to win, place (1st or 2nd place), or show (1st, 2nd, or 3rd); or you can box your picks which turned out to be the real moneymaker of the day, meaning you can pick two horses to finish 1st and 2nd.

I picked ‘She Be Classy’ in my first race, with a simple pick for her to win. She may be classy, but she wasn’t fast; I lost. After that I started paying attention to the odds and varying my bets, but I still didn’t have any real strategy to what I was doing. Luckily, the OTB has a simple touch screen betting system, so you never actually have to talk to a real person. In fact, the room was filled with several older men who may not have talked to anyone else in years. In the next race I boxed my picks, and good ole ‘Struggles’ really came through for me in one of my biggest wins of the day. From there I picked a horse with a jockey by the name of Bobby Walker (lost), and Kevin bet on ‘Dakota’ (also lost). For my last bet, I put money on a long shot to place, ‘Indygo’s Girlfriend’, and the sweet filly came in 2nd for me.

I think I just about broke even for the day which I’m counting as a success. Next year, live horse racing and the biggest, tackiest hat I can find!

4 down; 26 to go

#21: Enjoy a Good Scotch

I have to say I was a little worried about being able to accomplish this one, based on the verb choice "enjoy." For me, scotch brings up images of a dimly lit gentleman’s club with cigar smoke swirling around mahogany walls, its members settled into richly colored wingback chairs, hounds curled at their feet.

My sommelier for the evening was none other than scotch connoisseur Dennis Scott and his well-equipped MacWhirr’s Library Bar. First he walked me through the difference between single malt and blended scotch; single malt being made from only one grain and at one distillery; blended being for d-bags. Next we discussed the different scotch producing regions and what is appropriately referred to as the Peat scale-- more on this in a second. Denny arranged a flight of scotches for me to blindly sample so that I could first find which region suited my tastes. This sampler included Speyside, Highland, Mid Land and Low Land scotches.

Speyside (I tried The Cragganmore) was described as the cleanest of the samples, which I didn’t fully appreciate until the tasting was done. It was good, but since it was the first in the lineup, I wasn’t ready to call it a favorite yet. Next I tried two Highlands (The Dalwhinnie and Glenmorangie) and was instantly happy. The taste was much more similar to my beloved Jim Beam. From there I journeyed down to Mid Land (Highland Park), and this is where it started to go down hill. This aforementioned Peat scale is a reference to the presence of what can only be described as the taste of earthy-smoky-tobacco-moss in your mouth. Doesn’t sound appealing? That’s because it’s not. At all. By the time I got to the Low Lands (Laphroaig and Talisker) I was ready to spit out my last sample.

Once I finished the flight it wasn't too hard to pick my favorite. The Dalwhinnie has it!! The Cragganmore earned an honorable mention. I sipped on a glass and enjoyed. And now I can happily hold my own in a scotch debate, which I will gladly do with any of you over a glass of Beam on the rocks.

3 down; 27 to go

Saying Goodbye

This past weekend I said goodbye to my best friend. Dakota was a beautiful Akita, whom I brought home when he was just six weeks old. He was a birthday present from an ex boyfriend 11 years ago. At the time I was 18, I had just moved into my first apartment out of the dorms and I was living alone. My parents had recently divorced and, with so many changes, I felt lost most of the time.

Dakota showed up and I quickly found out I had adopted the worst puppy in history. He chewed my boots, my belts, my porch railing. He instinctively knew when company was coming over and would drag all my dirty underwear out of the hamper and lay it gently on the couch. Yelling at him only seemed to cause him more joy, much to my complete frustration. He was an ace at obedience school or in front of an audience, but at home when it was the two of us he conveniently forgot everything he knew.

He went everywhere with me that first year: to the pool, to class, to frat parties. He fit perfectly in the floorboard of my Honda civic and would curl up in front of the a/c vent for a nap on long drives. Dakota loved going for rides his whole life. Looking back, I’m sure it had little to do with the destination and everything to do with his pure joy at being included in my plans.

Fast forward eleven years later and Kota’s body started to betray him. Dakota was one of the most stubborn and proud animals I have ever known (I don’t know why they say animals are like their owners). His physical failures began to cause him embarrassment and distress. And while I’m absolutely sure he would never have left me, no matter how great the pain or the humiliation, I couldn't bear to watch him go through that.

I felt comfortable with my decision, but it didn’t make the day any easier. Taking him for his last walk, I passed a cherry blossom tree shedding its petals over the sidewalk. The pinkish white petals lay on the ground like empty cartoon dialogue bubbles. My thoughts burst into the petals: Am I doing the right thing; is this what he would want; does he know what's going to happen? Sneaking him a chocolate cookie once we got home brought tears to my eyes. On the way to the vet I found I had to disconnect my thoughts to keep from crying. As Kevin drove I repeated what I saw over and over again in my head to avoid my feelings. Stoplight. Orange sign. Lady with Stroller.

Afterwards, I found the hardest part wasn't the actual act of saying goodbye, but all the little things I miss without him around. I get choked up each time I unlock the door to find nothing but a pile of shoes in the entryway to greet me. I see a pine cone Dakota played with just a few days ago and tears fill my eyes. As I left the house this morning to go to the office I pulled up the blinds in the living room out of habit, before realizing he wouldn't be keeping watch over the sidewalk today.

Dakota and I grew up together. He gave me a sense of purpose and a reason to get out of bed every morning, even when it was the last thing I wanted to do. He comforted me through sadness and loneliness. I did my best to comfort him through thunder and pesky squirrels. I'll never know exactly what he was thinking at the end. Was he ready? Was he at peace with the decision? The one thing I can say without doubt is that he loved me completely and unconditionally, and that thought keeps me choked up even days later. Devotion and loyalty stood as the only tenants of his too short life. Anyone who has ever been the chosen recipient of a dog's affections can understand the extent to which he touched my life. So to my little Kota Bear, wherever you are, know that your life changed mine, and I will be forever grateful.

#12: Take a Cooking Lesson

On Friday night Kevin (my boyfriend for any of those who don't know me...or can't see the picture) and I attended a cooking class at Cookology. The experience was definitely worth having and we certainly had fun but, to be honest, there was nothing really "bloggable" about it. So if this starts to sound lame, just keep reading and the lameness will continue until the end.

The class we attended was aphrodisiac themed so we made seafood. Scientifically speaking none of the foods we made were true aphrodisiacs but all had reputations for being so. As our chef/instructor Ian Douglass pointed out, two kinds of foods are typically considered aphrodisiacs: any kind of booze and anything that looks sexual. Our dinner consisted of Blue Point oysters with a champagne vinaigrette, baked cod, asparagus with creamy leaks and of course white wine. Dessert was Sugar Dusted Fry Cakes with Decadent Chocolate Sauce (basically just donut holes with Mexican chocolate).

The class was pretty fun overall. None of the foods were things we couldn't make when we got there but we did learn some fun facts along the way. For instance, we both knew that we would be eating the oysters raw but we didn't know that meant that they were alive. That's right. Alive! Kevin said he ate a live bee once (well, he called it "mostly dead") as the result of a lost bet but, other than that, we had never eaten anything while it was alive.

We also learned the proper way to hold a chef's knife and that, regardless of age, it's funny to say, "Go shuck yourself."

Take A Cooking Lesson. CHECK!

2 down; 28 to go