Get me out of here

I have never been so happy to finish a week. Was it me, or did this week last about a year? Ugh...

In the spirit of Waitress, I made three special desserts last night:
Lamenting-My-Lack-Of-Professional-Luster Lemon Bars
Tired-Of-Making-An-Idiot-Of-Myself Pecan Pie Bars
I'd-Rather-Be-Anywhere-Than-My-Office Double Chocolate Chip Cookies

I will soon be enjoying these tasties by a campfire at Kalaloch, where I will be happy to shun all thoughts of computers, telephones and televisions -- in a word, technology.

Forget about the line to buy an iPhone (from Gawker: "So it's shiny. It's new. It turns sideways or something!") , where is the line to get rid of my cell phone, et al?

Big challenge

I have a new guilty pleasure. Emphasis on the "guilty," given my longstanding hatred of all entertainment which includes the word "reality" as a descriptor.

You guessed it. My new guilty pleasure is a TV show. A TV reality show. Shameful.

Let me begin with the obligatory statement of innocence. I just happened to turn on the TV as I was, um, doing some housecleaning (who me?! I never lay around lazily watching TV), when I got sucked into the first show of Shaq's Big Challenge.

The premise: Shaquille O'Neal helps six overweight kids, ages 11 to 14, lose weight, become active and adopt a healthier lifestyle. (Like most successful show these days it is modeled after Unfit Kids, a British program with Arsenal superstar Ian Wright.

The kids are not just pudgy, they are obese -- some are "morbidly obese." Especially tragic is Walter (age 14, 285 pounds), who just about breaks your heart with his utter nerdiness and quirky (or, as the doctor called it, "infantile") behavior.

My favorite is Kevin, the only kid to manage a few push-ups in the presidential fitness test that Shaq required (all the kids failed -- no surprise). And, as Walter struggled, and I mean struggled, through the mandatory mile-run (read: run/walk) for the fitness test, Kevin ran on to the track to join last-place Walter and encourage him through the last lap. Cue to the empty tissue box currently next to the couch.

OK, the show has its flaws. Shaq does seems like he's acting sometimes (but some of his off-the-cuff comments are hilarious). And his musclehead physician/trainer is hard to watch; his every word and gesture seem contrived. Not to mention the expectation that the kids be self-motivated enough to work out at the gym on their own 5 days a week. (What?! How many adults are that committed?!)

Anyway, I know where I'll be next Tuesday night. Sedentary on my couch, watching a TV show about fitness.

At the old ballgame

Speaking of Cinti ex-pats...

Saturday night we joined Cincinnati-turned-Seattle friends Dave and Mary T. for the Reds vs. Mariners game. This was the much-heralded series that brought about the return of Ken Griffey, Jr. to Safeco Field.

Mary T. apologized for the seats - in Riverfront Stadium speak, we'd call them "the red seats" -- but they were great! It was warm and sunny, meaning that Safeco's retractable roof was open, and we basked in the Seattle sunshine while admiring a view of the city and the Sound.

We soaked in the vitamin D...
















...and sure, we had to shield our eyes for much of the game, but when you're in the PNW, you never, ever complain about the sun lest it start raining 5 minutes later.














Mariners fans welcomed "The Kid" back with open arms, and the crowd erupted in cheers whenever he came up to bat. (What, no hits that night? What a crock!) A few days back in Seattle, and Griffey's all, "I want to retire there." Junior, Junior, don't get those Seattleites' hopes up. Don't you know, the peoples wants to see you.


Who would have guessed there would be so many Cincinnati fans in Seattle? Perhaps they were just wearing Reds garb in deference to Griffey...but we saw an awful lot of Reds shirts, along with a UC sweatshirt, a Miami U. t-shirt and lots of Buckeye paraphernilia.



Yes, we were very sad that the Reds got pummeled, 9-1.



















But hey, we got to see a grand slam, we got to dance everytime a homerun was hit, and we got to eat ice cream out of a miniature baseball helmet (which we dubbed "Delish in a Helmet Dish") -- so how could we possibly complain?

Bliss comes in scrounds

News today that Graeters has begun selling their ice cream in 56-oz. scrounds, ie, rectangular cartons with rounded corners.

The question on the minds of all Cincinnati ex-pats: Will the scrounds be available for shipping? We hope so, Graeters. Not a week goes by that we don't lament the lack of "real ice cream" out here -- especially during those summer evenings.

Only a few flavors have made the first rounds of scrounds. But, saints be praised, those flavors include the most important: chocolate chip, black raspberry chip, mint chip and double chocolate chip.

Spare us the nausea

When it comes to picking the next president -- or even just a presidential candidate -- I hope that we as a nation make our choice based on things like experience, intelligence, proposed domestic/foreign policy, depth of character, ability to make sound judgment, etc.

Even still, I can't help but think that Hillary deserves to be voted down based solely on her recent selection (or YouTube voters' selection, so she says) of her official campaign theme song, "You and I," by Celine Dion.

Celine Dion? Really??? Are you sticking with that, Hillary?

Because, truly, if you were looking for a sound that could generate a visceral reaction of regret and revulsion, you have nailed it. Is the theme of your campaign agony and distress? Are you looking to nauseate the entire population? To set our collective teeth a-gnashing and stomachs a-wretching?

Rosa Brooks of the L.A. Times says, "If the SAT's analogies section tested politics and pop culture, even the dimmest teenager would agree that 'Hillary Clinton: Politics = Celine Dion: Music.'"

Right on, Rosa.

This is a question of one's ability to make sound judgment. Hillary, I know you're going strong, but we really have to question your decision-making ability on this one.

Summer is here

Today, at 11:06 am, we welcomed summer. With the first day of summer came 15 hours, 59 minutes and 31 seconds of glorious daylight.

At this time of year, the sun rises around 5:00 am and sets around 9:00 pm. When you include the morning and evening twilight, that's a lot of light. This is one of my favorite things about PNW summer. (Yes, the converse is true: The short winter days are one my least favorite things, but let's not think about that right now.)

Another thing I relish about PNW summers: Unlike the Midwest, summer here doesn't mean oppressive heat. Locals are keen to tell you that summer doesn't really start here until after the Fourth of July. Case in point: It was a cool, sunny 71 degrees today, and temperatures this weekend are not expected to rise above 70. OK, so there's rain the in the forecast for Saturday and Sunday -- but I'll take it. It reminds me of Ireland and England.

Speaking of summer...We have already taken a mini summer vacation to what has become one of my favorite places in the world: the Oregon Coast. (Pictured above are SMH and Loki enjoying the ocean at low tide.) We spent the first weekend in June in Newport, then followed our noses to a campground about 15 south of Cannon Beach.

The campground -- Oswald West State Park -- turned out to be an amazing discovery. Camping is tent-only, so you have to hike in about .25 mile (the park provides wheelbarrows -- how thoughtful!) to set up. When we finally settled in, we realized we were one of the only campers there without surfboards. Turns out the camp is popular with the local surfers, so we spent some time down at the beach watching and wishing we knew how to hang 10.

We also did some hiking along beautiful cliffs



And we explored some tide pools.

The last picture shows some starfish in the tide pools. I know they look a little squishy and creepy, but they are actually beautiful, decked out in brilliant oranges and purples.

The weekend also involved a tour of the Rogue Brewery, a delish salmon dinner, a run on the beach, and with friend Kevin's help, a whale-spotting in Depoe Bay.

The summer is off to a spectacular start.

Ewww...

I like to crab to my husband. Crab about how he doesn't do the dishes, how he always loses his keys, how he doesn't keep his car clean. If you were to call this "henpecking," you would not be too far off base. I admit it, and I am not proud of it.

Last week, SMH earned himself a "get-out-of-henpecking-free" card for the next, oh, year or so.

He called me at work with news of the horrible discovery he had just made in our backyard: a bloody decapitated cat, with limbs and entrails astrewn. After he hung up the phone, he proceeded to clean it all up, blood and guts and all. Just hearing about it made me gag. Clean it up? No way I could have done it.

We think the culprit was probably a coyote, or maybe one of Oly's killer raccoons.

This is not the first time SMH has had to deal with Oly wildlife. Last summer, he caught and "relocated" a pair of squirrels who came down our chimney. If the two resident deer return to our backyard this year, I am thinking maybe I should quit my day job and become a zookeeper.

Weekend memories

Third day after the marathon, and I am breathing a bit easier. I am now officially over the need to walk down the steps backwards as well as the desire to install handicapped- accessible bars on either side of our toilet.

So, here's a bit more about our weekend adventure in Sequim-Port Angeles.

Joined by friends Laurel and Kevin (and dog Loki), SMH and I headed up to P.A. last Friday evening. On Saturday morning, we took the ferry over the Victoria, BC, where we spent the day wandering in the dreary PNW rain, stopping for breakfast, drinks and snacks along the way.

I am sure you would be surprised to find out that I was stressing and obsessing about the marathon all day Saturday. Me, obsess? Yes, it's true, and as I was busy obsessively plotting out charts and maps during the ferry ride, SMH interrupted to show me an article in the Seattle Times about one of the marathon monks of Mt. Hiei. Suddenly, the race the next day lost some of its significance. See, when I run, I carry Gu, which I will use to replenish my energy if I start to bonk. When the monk runs, he carries a rope and a sword, which he will use to kill himself if he is unable to complete his daily journey. Eeek.

After returning to P.A. Saturday evening, we had dinner, followed by a walk along the final stretch of the marathon. Here we are in the chute, with the finish line just behind us...

...And there I am about 50 feet from the finish line of the marathon, from the perspective of SMH and Kevin, who were enjoying a beer from the balcony of our hotel room. (A well-deserved beer, I might add, after rushing around the course all morning.) Funny thing about this photo ... I don't remember smiling and waving to the fellas. In fact, I don't even remember acknowledging them. And I don't remember Laurel peeling off here. I don't recall much of anything except wanting it to be over and wanting to get out of the cold rain.

Can you tell it wasn't a big race? Where are all the crowds at mile 26???

One of the reasons I chose this marathon was because Sequim is reputed to be one of the sunniest places this side of the mountains. But not Sunday. Sunday, it was windy, wet and chilly. Which makes it all the more amazing that Laurel jumped in and carried me through the last third of the race. She is the only thing that kept me going. As nice as the charming bridges were along the course -- as nice as the cows were, serenading us with their moos -- as nice as the trumpet player was at the water stop, playing "Happy Days" as slow as molasses (and apparently "Deck the Halls", too) -- as nice as the last stretch along the water was -- there was nothing, nothing, as good as having Laurel there to push me through. She told good jokes, posed some thought-provoking "would you rather..." scenarios, and kindly encouraged me and other runners with crazy exclamations like "You look great! You look strong! You're awesome!" I knew they weren't true -- I looked like hell -- but I clung to her every last word. Thanks, Laurel! And Kevin, SMH and Loki!

Oh, those 26.2 miles...

It took me over two years, but finally -- a second marathon is under my belt.

Here is my initial assessment of the North Olympic Discovery Marathon:

Boo to headwinds!!
Boo to cold rain!!
Boo to hills, hills and more hills!!
Boo to atrocious splits!!

But to make up for all those "Boos"...
YAY to friend Laurel for carrying me the last 10.2 miles!!
YAY to supporters SMH, Kevin, Laurel and Loki, who speedily navigated their way through the course and cheered me on at nine(!) different spots!!

3:54:42? Not the time I was shooting for. Certainly not fast enough for a "Sub-Dub" (ie, not fast enough to beat Bush's marathon time). But I'll worry about that tomorrow. Right now, it's off to rest those achin' legs.