Chalkboard wall

I've been thinking about this idea I saw on Pinterest - you can make chalkboard paint out of any color paint you want.  Now, up until that point I had never really thought about chalkboard paint much, but if I had I certainly would have been put off by the idea of having a random black square painted on a wall.  But the idea that I could have it match the rest of my house's decor ("decor" is used in a very liberal sense) had me quite intrigued.  Honestly, I think half of the things I try from the internet are just out of curiosity (hence the wine bottles as pendant lights).

1)  Pick the wall.  This depends highly only your planned usage.  I'd chosen the one between the kitchen and the garage, because it's sort of a lost space in our house, and yet we are always there.  Also because I'm repainting the kitchen, and it will be easy to use some leftover paint.  Anyway, in this location it can serve as grocery list/ phone number / phone messages / family schedule...

file://localhost/Users/bgwinnup/Pictures/Iphoto%20Library%202010/Modified/2011/Dec%2018,%202011/IMG_0910.jpg

2)  Pick the color.  As I mentioned above, I had some paint that I was planning to use on this wall anyway.  How hard could it be to just make it chalkboard paint?  Turns out, not hard.  I had the paint mixed up and the central part of the wall taped off and painted before the family was back from violin lessons.  Unfortunately, the paint was a little too light to be a very good chalkboard.  Also, I had (as suggested in one internet site) neatly taped off the section I planned to use - I had planned to just have the same shade of paint but in chalkboard.  Several problems:
     Once you add the grout to make the paint write-able, it also makes the paint a lot thicker.  So the neat tape lines I'd made to confine the chalkboard remained as oddly straight lines in the finished wall.  Sort of like the seams in painted-over wallpaper.
    The paint I had on-hand was egg-shell finish.  Great for scrub ability.  Crayon and pen comes right off. Chalk never even goes on.  I had to sand it down to rough up the finish enough to write on.  Still usable, but not as nice.  I wound up at the hardware store the next day to pick new paint.  Matte finish.  I chose a Shade darker than I normally would knowing that the chalk would show up better and that I planned on leaving a film of chalk dust on it most of the time any way.

3)  Sand down the wall to be painted.  This knocks down any texture on the wall - some anyway.  My wall still has significant texture - I was way too impatient to get it very smooth.  I bought both rough (to sand down the texture) and fine (to sand between coats of paint).  I wound up only using the rough.  Too impatient.  I did use hubby's power sander, but those hand held things would probably work fine.

4)  Magnetic primer - This was an impulse buy at the hardware store.  It should be helpful, though.  Nice to tack up papers I need to take to work and such.  I decided to only paint the middle section with it.  Too low is in dog tail territory, and too high is unreachable.  Learning from my previous tape lesson - I did NOT tape off the section to paint, and tried to put fewer coats on the outer edge to avoid the abrupt change in texture.  The box said "three thin coats are better than two thick ones" so that's what I did.  Came back to test it and a LIGHT magnet would barely stick.  So I put on two more, thick, coats. Magnets seems to stick okay with that.  Of note, the magnetic primer is NOT water soluble.  Pick up some mineral spirits and Simple Green (or other degreaser) at the hardware store.  AND make sure the rollers you get are the HARD FOAM ROLLER for super smooth surfaces.

5)  Chalkboard paint - Mix up 1 cup of your flat/matte latex paint with 2 TBS of non sanded grout.  Use some sort of mesh to sift the grout into the paint - this removes the little pebbles of grout that may not dissolve completely (I honestly don't know if this sifting is necessary, I didn't try it without).  Stir until most of the granules have dissolved.  It's okay if there's still some there.  They will all go away with the paint application.  (Warning - I don't know what's in that grout stuff.... but it REALLY stinks)

5) Tape off (or not - I tend to be less messy without the false security of damn leaky painters tape) baseboards and other walls.  Remove outlet covers and switch plates.  Cut in edges with a brush.  Then use your dense foam roller to apply 2 thin coats of paint to the entire surface.  You will notice that wherever you've placed the paint on thickly, you get islands of grout that's clumped together.  Use a lot of pressure and a lot of repetition to get these to go away.  They will (even my 5 year old got them to go away).  It also helps to use a bristle brush to stipple at the more stubborn patches so that the surface is smooth.

6)  After you get a smooth surface painted and dried (you probably should wait the recommended time on the paint can.... do as I say, not as I do).   Use the broad side of the sidewalk chalk to completely cover the chalkboard.  They say this is to prime it... whatever.  It give the wall an underlying patina.... very cool looking.

7)Wipe off the above with a slightly damp rag.  Then inscribe with your sagest advice....

First Golfing injury

One of the many hazards of living in Florida has GOT to be the golfers.  For instance, did you know there is such a thing as a remote controlled golf club caddy?  So if you're out golfing, and don't want to haul your clubs around on your golf cart, you can give them their own little golf cart that you then pilot separately.... while still driving your golf cart.

Hmm.

Anyway, they are very quick and nimble, and can apparently stop on a dime.

Unfortunately, Jax can't.   Hence, the abundance of steristrips and looming black eye...

Skoshi the wonderdog

So, our dog Skoshi was a stray.  Then we adopted her.  The problem is, according to Skoshi, we are still not her REAL family.  Her real family is apparently still out there somewhere, and they were much better than us.

I know this because whenever she gets the chance, she escapes to find them.  She even has some way of getting out of the backyard that we can't quite figure out, but must be really time consuming, because she only attempts it if we leave her outside too long.  Once I left for work and she just wouldn't come in.  She was lounging on the back deck, and when I called her, she just gave me one of those "whatever" looks.  Later that morning, I got a text from a neighbor who had found her out and put her back in the house.

Sometimes, she make a more overt dash past our feet as we are trying to leave.  She hates to be abandoned by us during the day, and if we are all leaving, then so is she.  Fortunately, she also loves open doors.  It doesn't matter what sort of door, any open door will do.  She runs through it to investigate.  This is how I usually manage to catch her when she escapes, I hop in the car, drive four houses down the street and pop open the passenger side door.... and into the car she hops.

As it turns out, there's another car that drives up and down the street with the door frequently open.. the mailman.  Yup.  Apparently last time Skoshi escaped, her car door was just too enticingly open.  Imagine the her surprise to turn around in her seat and see Skoshi riding shotgun, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, and that "Where we going?" glint in her eye.

Fortunately, our address is on her collar, so much so Skoshi's chagrin, her jaunt in the mail car was brief (but I'm sure, glorious).

Florida Ironman 2011

One year ago, I decided to compete in this year's Ironman Florida. Actually, it must have been more than a year ago, because one year ago I volunteered in the med tent of the Florida Ironman so that I could be first in line to register for this year's Ironman. So I'm not really sure what possessed me, it seemed like the next most logical thing to do after all my marathons, and there's so many triathlons here in the summer. So if you're going to do something, you might as well find the most extreme event compete in that, right? You wouldn't want anyone to thing you were lazy or weak or something. 

I've been working on this training program for about 30 weeks, albeit halfheartedly. I just couldn't find the time or the energy to do workout that much - much less, workout with that much focus and intensity. Every single workout was at a proscribed heart race and pace and interval set. There was none of the "just go out and bike for a couple of hours" type of workout. Since I found it frustrating that I couldn't complete the program perfectly, at some point I just gave up. I tried a couple of other training programs, but after a few attempts, I realized that between kids school and activities, work, hubby's reservist job and new business - there just wasn't enough time to train if I was planning to sleep at all. So, I decided to just do what I could, and hope for the best. Mostly I would run 2 or three times a week, bike once or twice a week, and swim once a week. 

As the big day approached, I developed a vague sense of impending doom. I'd never actually swum that far (but I did 2 miles once in the bay, and felt great at the end), I'd only biked that distance once (I did an 80 miler and a 75 miler, too). I've done many a marathon, but the first rule of the run portion in the rules of the Ironman was "No form of locomotion other than running, walking or crawling" was allowed. While I was perplexed that crawling was considered a possibility, my nurse pointed out "wow, you can't skip?". Also, the presence of "Penalty Tents" along the course was also somewhat concerning (So, if you skipped, would you go to the penalty tent?  And really, if you DIDN't go to the penalty tent, weren't you missing part of the whole Ironman experience?  Maybe I should just skip for a part of the race and find out.)

I had been looking on the internet for some wheels to rent for the race, and I figured, that if they rent wheels, surely there's a company that would rent the rest of the bike, too. Sure enough, I found one! So I was all set with a hot pink camo Quintana Roo and a set of race wheels!

The morning of the race, I got up at 330 to slather myself with sunscreen and body glide, eat a couple of granola bars and head down to transition. I had gone through my whole race day mentally and found a couple of items I was missing from my gear bags in transition. I gathered my morning bag and all the rest of my gear, and headed to the WalMart Parking lot to catch the shuttle. The shuttle was just leaving when I got there, so I settled in to wait for the next one. There was a group of young guys with no gear at all standing at the front of the line, cutting up, cussing and making obnoxious jokes. Turns out they were Navy "volunteers" who would be monitoring the swim on Kayak. Overhearing all their adolescent banter reminded me of the young enlisted kids I worked with in Okinawa. 

The shuttle dropped us about a quarter mile from the transition area, so I dropped off my "special needs" bags (they would be transported to the midpoint of the bike and the run, and held extra sunscreen and food) and headed to transition. I had made a exhaustive list of things I would need for the race, but had forgotten the headlamp. This would have been quite helpful as my bike was racked in one of the unlit corners of transition. I heard the girls around me joking about how we were in the "hood". However, there were lots of spectators peeking over the fence, taking pictures and heckling us about being monkeys in the zoo. I managed to find a swiss army knife thing with a flashlight that I'd packed in my "in-case-of-emergencies" bag (along with moleskin, scissors, superglue, purple duck tape, plastic bags, bandaids....). Using this I had to accomplish a few more tasks on my list. 1)Attach new wireless bike computer to bike 2)attach and fill the drink holder on my aero bars (I had lost one of the elastic bands for this purpose. I had planned on using a couple of Riley's headbands, but this didn't work too well. Fortunately, one of the girls down the rack from me had a spare) These aero bars were unfortunately set wider apart than mine are, so instead of securing the drink container that was already tightly wedged in place, they merely suspended the container like one of those trampoline bungies you see kids doing flips on at the fair. Time was growing short, and I needed to get my wetsuit on and head down to the beach. I squeezed into my wetsuit (think of it as trying to put on very very very thick pair of pantyhose) and wandered to the swim start with all the other wetsuit-clad athletes. Ahh, nothing is so invigorating as the smell of neoprene in the early morning... except for maybe the freezing cold sand on the beach, the brisk morning air or maybe the figid salt-water awaiting our entry. Fortunately, I was still wearing an old pair of socks to protect me a little from the sand (lessons learned from all that beach run training!) and an old mylar blanket from my last marathon. I wandered to the water's edge - it was quite a change from just a couple of days ago. There were hardly any waves at all. I finally managed to force myself to place my blanket and socks on the sand - hoping they'd still be there when I got out - and waded into the surf. OH MY GOD it was freezing. Oh well, better just get this over with. I dove in and took a couple of strokes before the cold got too constricting on my chest and I stood up, gasping. This same thing happened with my swim in the bay the last two weekends. The first few strokes are almost unbearably cold, but pretty shortly it warms up. So I dove back in and sure enough, the water became almost pleasant. It also warms up significantly once you get beyond where the shelf drops off, so I did a couple of laps and climbed out, shivering and ran for my blanket and socks (still there!). I wrapped tightly and headed over the timing mats to the start coral. Every other triathlon I've done previously divides each age group into staggered waves, each with it's own assigned color of swim cap. So I was surprised that there were only 2 colors here - green for men, pink for women. As it turns out, we were all going to start at the same time. All 3000 of us. I had hoped to find my friend, Lezli before the swim, but there were just too many women in pink caps with black wetsuits, and I never found her.  I watched the professional athletes start at 6:50, and then it was our turn.

7:00 AM
The cannon fires and we are off! I know from experience that I'm not the fastest swimmer, so I hung out at the back of the crowd and let the more aggressive athletes get out of the way. I'm so glad I did! This was one of the most amazing sights I've ever seen! The sun was not yet peeking over the horizon, and thousands of athletes in green and pink swim caps with bodies clad in black wetsuits splashing into water up to their hips, diving under the surf and swimming freestyle off into the shimery smooth Gulf of Mexico.

And finally it was my turn.  I have had some major problems with panic in previous triathlons, so I took major precautions.  I had changed from a full-sleeve wetsuit to a sleeveless.  My full-sleeve was just way too tight on my chest and arms, and always me feel like I couldn't breathe.  Also, I make sure I start out in the back where there's fewer people, less grabbing, and more time to get used to the water, keep by breathing even and my heart rate down.  I pretty quickly settled into my standard breathing rhythm (stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe, stroke stroke, breathe).  I found that having a certain pattern to focus on rather than just breathing every 3 strokes was helpful in calming my heart rate.  Sort of like a mantra for swimming.  The water is amazingly clear in the gulf, which is nice because it's easy to tell how far you are from the shore by how easy it is to see the bottom and it's also easier to follow the feet bubbles of someone in front of you.  But it's also easier to see the sea life and jellyfish, so I mostly close my eyes during the swim unless I'm breathing or spotting.  I know there's other creatures under the water, but I don't need to see them.  The start of our swim was right at sunrise and so every other stroke or so I got to watch an amazing sunrise from a crazy vantage point that few people get to experience.  With my eyes just at the surface of the water and the sun just spilling over the horizon, the pink-orange light was blinking through the glittering splashing sea and the flashing arms and elbows of hundreds of swimmers.  From time to time I would catch a glimpse of one and couldn't help but think "was that a dorsal fin?" - a holdover from my open water swims in the bay.  

I had cut both turns really wide, and it was a very relaxin swim.  After the second turn, making my way back to the beach, I remembered that I'd forgotten to put body glide on my arms and neck, and I could just start to feel the tell-tale stinging that was sure to wind up as wicked chafing by the time I was done.  Oh well!  I swam as far as I could up the beach, ran across the timing mats, grabbed a cup of freshwater and headed out for lap 2.  I was looking for feet bubbles to draft off of, when I came upon this MASSIVELY FLUFFY AND PINKLY MENACING MOTHER OF A JELLYFISH.  It was huge.  Just floating right in front of me.  I managed to swim around it, but thought I'd better keep my eyes open just a bit more.  THere were actually more jellies than I realized - especially in the deeper water.  One more turn and then it was about 800 meters back to the shore.  By this time, I'm getting REALLY bored, so I start varying my stroke..... stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe, stroke stroke stroke stroke, breathe.

And then we're out of the water!  1:25 ish.  Not too bad, about what I'd planned.  And no panic attack!  I ran over the timing mats and heard the announcer say "Ann Gwinnup... from Niceville.... that's nice...."  Clearly quite the original.  I was immediately pointed to an group of 3 people.  So I ran up to them while loosening my wetsuit strap and trying to take it down to my waist.  These were the "peelers" (they used to be called strippers, but someone changed it to a more family friendly term).  I was expecting someone to be there to help me peel down the wetsuit and help stabilize me while I do the step on one pant leg with the other foot dance.  Imagine my surprise when the two guys on the outside of the threesome grabbed the shoulders of my wet suit and peeled it to my waist, then grabbed my shoulders and lowered me to the ground while the middle person grabbed my wetsuit by the waist and effectively turned me upside down and shucked my legs free of the neoprene.  Then the other two stood me up, the middle one put my wetsuit in my hands and shoved me towards transition.  Wow!  That was very efficient!

I ran to the gear bag line up and found my bag.  I though I was being all creative by strategically placing purple duck tape on my bag so it would stand out from the others.... but apparently lots and lots of other people had a similar idea. So, I knew that my bag was in the first long row, turn right at the bag with pink feathers, stop just after the bag with tons of tinsel.  Grabbed my bag and headed to the changing tent.  Once here, I found an empty chair and dumped out my bag on the floor and started pondering what I was going to wear for the bike.  These are things you would think I'd have figured out before the race. I was immediately pounced upon by a volunteer who was trying to help me get dressed, and seemed a little flummoxed by my "well, I could wear this top, but I think the one I have on will dry, so maybe I'll just wear those arm warmers, but then I may get cold and I hate getting cold so I could just also wear that baselayer thingy with the thumbholes. "  Finally dressed and in borrowed shoes (big drama - I had rented a bike but I couldn't get my bike's pedals off to transfer them to the rental bike.  Seriously, at one point Brian and I started thinking of taking a blowtorch to the metal casing of the pedal.  So, when I went to pick up the bike I was explaining this to the guy who was renting it to me (right after I said "PINK?  Don't you have ANY other color?") when he asked what my shoe size was, and brought out his own personal pair of shoes and pedals.  They were sorta sloshy on my feet, but tight enough.  After I exited the change tent, I ran back out to transition, past a bank of volunteers wearing gloves and standing by big vats of sunscreen, offering to assist in application.  THat's just weird.  Rather than have total strangers smear my body with creamy white stuff, I just grabbed a couple of handfuls and splashed it onto any skin exposed and then I ran out to my bike, found Dori (friend and president of our new triathlon club :) who retrieved my bike and off I went.  

I was heading west on 98, impressed at how little effort it took to maintain about 17mph, and but I really wanted to see my mileage as well.  So I pressed on the bottom part of my bike computer to toggle to the next screen.... and dislodged the computer, sending it spiraling off my bike and into oncoming traffic.  UGH.  That thing was brand new, too.  Do I stop, unclip, turn around in the middle of a bike race and try and retrieve the thing in the middle of the road?  Ummmm..... nope. Oh well.  

Continuing on 98.... it was actually not too windy, except for between the high rise condos and hotels, which functioned as wind tunnels and just about sent me off my bike a few times.  I was glad to turn off 98 and onto the northward highway, and into the wind.   This part of the bike ride was actually pretty good.  I kept an eye out for Lezli, I had no clue how far ahead of me she was - she's a really fast swimmer, but I thought I might have a chance of catching up to her on the bike.   I was even passing people.  I did occasionally get passed also, but I usually NEVER pass anyone on the bike.  At the first aid station or two I came to a full stop.  I wasn't quite sure about how to acquire a bottle of powerade while still moving - it seemed tenuous and risky.  My pink camo bike was actually an asset for the race.  It's very encouraging to hear people shout "HEY NICE BIKE" either from another bike or from the side of the road.  I don't know if it was taunting or actually appreciative (it WAS the latest model), but if it breaks up my boredom on the bike, I'll take it!  It was during one of these interchanges that I heard an ominous pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh from my front tire.  Ugh.  Flat.  Oh well, I'd practiced this!  I quickly got my bike off the road and removed the front tire.  I quickly jammed the first tire lever in and was working on the second.  That second one is always a bear.  And then the end of the tire lever snapped off. Huh.  Never expected that.  I looked at the remaining tire lever tucked neatly under the edge of my tire and hooked around a spoke, and remembered that one of the many You Tube videos I'd seen on this subject did actually mention you only really needed one tire lever to muscle off the rim of a clencher tire.  Okay, well, I guess it was time to get manhandley with my remaining tire lever, and it worked!  I should mention that every few seconds I'm answering questions from the passing bikes.  "are you okay?", "need anything?" was heard from almost every single biker that passed.  This is one reason I really love endurance sports - you'll never meet a stranger at a triathlon!  I stripped out the used innertube and inspected the tire for glass or metals shards or something that would have peirced the tube.  Nothing.  I then set about putting in the new tube.  This involved and extender and some teflon tape and this little metal nut thingy that I always forget to take off before putting in the new tube, and was having lots and lots of technical difficulties.  Fortunately, I van full of nice tire-repairing people pulled up and finished up the whole thing for me, even pumped the tire up with their own pump so I didn't have to use my own CO2 cartridge (although that's my favorite part).  They got me back on the road and I even managed to take my next Powerade bottle without stopping!!  I had just finished filling my aerobar drink holder and was setting into the next 10 miles or so when I heard it AGAIN.  That exact same ominous pshhhhhhhhhhhht coming from my front tire.  NO WAY!  I pulled off the road AGAIN, pulled off my front tire AGAIN and inspected it AGAIN.  This time I found it.  A sidewall of the tire had blown out.  Great.  I was out of tire fixing supplies, and the guys in the van would surely not be back anytime soon.  So, I propped my bike up against a mailbox and started walking the mile or so back to the aid station.  I figured someone there could call for technical support.  I was about halfway there when the tire repair guys in the mini van pulled up.  I handed over my tire, and explained (I really tried to be polite, I'm sure I did) my difficulties.  They fixed me up with a replacement tire, and I was on my way again.  By this time I'd lost so much time that I knew I could never catch up to where I was, and so I decided to just relax and try to have fun.  I knew Lezli would be way too far ahead of me to ever catch, but thought I could at least catch her on one of the out-and-back portions.

Turns out, the group of people I wound up biking around after the second flat were much more interesting than when I was trying zip past at first.  There was one guy that felt compelled to shout "It's the PINK QUINTANA ROOOOOOOOO!" every time he passed me or I passed him.  There were also lots and lots of people that commented on the bike as well - but I truly believe they were actual comments of appreciation rather than derision.  Granted, I could be delusional, but whatever, it was motivating no mater what the motivation!  By this time I must have been hydrating pretty well, because I had to stop for a potty break at almost every single aid station.  I was sticking to my nutrition plan pretty well.  I was going through 20 ounces of Ironman Perform (ie: Gatorade) every 10 miles, and tried to take 2 slugs of Honey Stinger (Gu) from my flask every 10 miles also.  I had forgotten  my salt tabs, but had 3 packs of mustard that I planned to take every 30 miles or so.  Turns out the Gu flask was really hard to get stuff out of.  At one point I took one of the powerbar shots from the aid station (needed some caffeine), and I was able to empty the entire contents of the pouch into my mouth and swallow it really quickly.  So, in retrospect, I wouldn't worry with the Gu flask, I would just take the (hopefully already opened) pack from the aid station volunteer, squeeze all of it into my mouth and toss the empty before the "Last Chance Trash" sign.  The only problem would be in trying to refill fluids AND get a Gu, but I think if you had an empty water bottle cage you could take the fluids, put it in the bottle holder, then take a Gu or two and eat them before transferring the fluids into the aero bar drink bottle.  Worst case scenario, you could always hold on to the bottle until the next aid station (because you can't just toss it anywhere, that would be littering).  But, that's a major tangent....

At about mile 50ish we turned onto a section of road for our first out and back.  This road really really sucked.  It was terribly bumpy.  It was hard enough to stay in the aero bars with the bumps, but we were also going into a wicked headwind.  I was amazed though when this very serene appearing chick passed me in her aerobars.  I did wind up passing her again a couple of miles down the road, but she just looked way too placid.  I even thought I saw Lezli at one point, but was bouncing too much to shout out.

So, finally we made it to the turnaround.  I really don't like turnarounds on a bike.  I really feel like I have to slow down so much that I can't really make the turn, and often have to actually stop and put a foot down.  If you're not aware of my lack of innate grace, I have a real problem with stopping on my bike.  I fall.  A lot.  Therefore, I've come up with this way of stopping for self preservation.  As I'm slowing down, I unclick BOTH feet from my pedals and put them down in preparation for falling to either one side or the other.  It's not gracefull, but it keeps me from landing on my butt.  I was slowing and preparing to turn around, and I clearly don't know bike etiquite and didn't expect serene lady to be that close behind me, because as I was traversing the entire street and clearly not continuing to move forward as anticipate, I could hear markedly serene lady behind me saying in a state of utter panic "ohgodohgodohgod" as she careened dangerously close. Disaster was averted, but I was sure motivated to stay ahead of crazy serene lady from then on! 

The trip back on the bumpy road was not so bad.  The wind was at least at my back, and I could stay in the aerobars.  This is good because it allows me to stabilize my drink container withmy forearms.  If you recall, I just had it suspended in a bouncey fashion between the aerobars, and so with every bounce it would clack against the aerobars and be very very noisy and annoying.  On the regular road, it just swayed, but on this bumpy one I really thought it was going to jostle on out of either the bands or the bars.  That must be why when I was taking a drink out of my aerobar bottle, the top, flexible part of the straw popped off of the bottom rigid part and in my absolute shock, I let it drop out of my mouth. Oops.  Bye bye straw.  I could still access the fluids, but I had to bend my elbows and pretty much plant my nose in the aerobars to get to the bottom part of the straw.  Not cool, but functional nonetheless.  By this point, I seriously thought something was wrong with my bike.  Was my back tire flat now, too?  Surely no sound bike should be making this much racket.  I had commented on this to a passing biker, and he suggested that riding as close to the white line as possible would help minimize the racket.  It did, but I also have a hard time biking in a straigh line.  

FINALLY got off that road, and back on to reasonable highway.  The wind was at my back and things were going much better.  At about mile 70 ish we turned south to head back down to Panama city.  By this time my, ummm, perineum, was really really sore.  I would take breaks and stand up on the hills, but I was really really ready to get OFF THIS BIKE!  There was a nice hill over some river where we could pick up some speed at about mile 93 or somthing.  After that, I just pedalled as fast as I could to get back to transition and but the bike behind me.  I did keep an eye out for my lost bike computer, but no luck. I was about 2 miles from transition when I saw them!  Standing off to the side - Riley and Brian!  They spotted me, too, and I slowed enough to give Ri a high five.  Jax then came running out from whatever he'd been doing, and just missed also slapping my hand.  But I'm a mom first and a triathlete 10th, so I unclipped my feet and stopped to give Jax a hug and a high five.  Totally worth it, too.  

Finally back in Transition!  I unmounted my bike, and started to run it back to my spot, when a nice volunteer took it from me.  REally?! Wow!  So I gathered my bag of run gear and headed for the changing tent.  This time I was immediately greeted at the door by a volunteer who took my bag from me and lead me to a chair.  She was then relieved of duty by DORI!  Yay!  I peeled off my helmet and top layer and compression calf sleeves while she dumped out and organized my gear for the run.  Two pairs of shoes. "UMMM, so which ones are you going to wear?"  Yeah.  I don't know.  I should probably figure that out just about now.  There's the Brooks ghost which are traditional shoes, I've run several long runs in them.  They're tried and true and really not very exciting.  Then there's my new Brooks Pure Flows!  THey're SOOOO cool looking and cool feeling.  I LUV them!  BUt I just got them in the mail yesterday, and so I probably shouldn't wear them... but I love them.   Sigh.  Oh well, time to be sensible and wear the safe shoes.  So, I donned my hot pink compression socks, changed into a running skirt, slathered a bit of vaseline on my chafed bits and chit-chatted with Dori. It was so nice to get to talk with someone!  I mean, in a triathlon there's people all around, but no real chance to get to talk to anyone, especially during the swim and the bike.  It's really a very lonely day.  I was smearing the raw insides of my arms with vaseline and complaining about my tire blowout woes, when I asked how far ahead of me Lezli was.  I figured I could maybe still catch her.  But Dori said she didn't make it out of the swim.  WHAT?!?!?  Nope.  She got kicked in the face and swallowed a bunch of water and couldn't finish.  So I guess that wasn't Lezli I saw on the bike after all.  Wow.  

I finished changing, and ran out past the sunscreen vats.  Again opting for my own skills in application rather than trust the cadre of volunteer in blue latex-free gloves.  And I was off on the run!  9 hours and 9 minutes after the start.  I had a plan on the run.  I was going to run a mile, walk a minute.  This would give me time to eat at the aid stations and keep up with my fluids.  I managed to maintain this for the first few miles, and by mile 3 I was feeling good!  The streets were lines with raucous spectators, there was music playing loudly, I had no Jelly legs or back pain off the bike.  I was running!  This was my natural state!  The sun was setting, and life was good!

There's a saying in Marathons "If you feel bad at mile 10, you're in trouble.  If you feel bad at mile 20, you're normal.  If you DON'T feel bad after mile 26, you're not normal."  Well, at about mile 5, I hit the wall.  Yup, mile 5.  Only 21 more to go.  UGH.  I quickly abandoned my "run a mile, walk a minute" plan and decided to try "run 10 minutes walk one"..... unless there was an aid station, I'd walk that, too.  But then I would get dizzy, to I'd walk some more.  Finally, I settled on a more immediate motivation strategy.  "Okay, I'm going to walk until I get to the stop sign, then I'll run until I get to the first lit street light".  Turns out, this one worked pretty well, it kept me looking up and moving forward, instead of staring at my watch.  The miles were creeping by really really slowly.  The marathon portion of the Florida Ironman is 2 loops of an out and back run course.  The "out" portion of the run course is through a state park, and really rather pretty.  The aid stations were plentiful and they had lots and lots of options (water, gatorade, cola, broth, ice, sponges, powerbars, electrolye gu, pretzels, oranges, bananas, cookies).  My plan at this time was to drink cola and eat pretzels for the salt.  I think, though that I'd gotten behind on my hydration and salt.  My mouth was so dry that it was hard to swallow the pretzels, and I kept getting dizzy... so I mostly just drank cola and broth, and had a few oranges here and there.   No one offered me a beer.  I really could have used a beer.... but then I probably would have puked. I've a really sensitive stomach, and the Zofran from the morning had worn off.  (Seems like my last few races I get pukey at the end.  Nothing looks so bad in a race pic as puking when you're crossing the finish line.  But fortunately, I know a good doc, and I prescribed myself some Zofran).  I really had no idea how I was going to make it through these last 20 miles. TWENTY MILES.   But, really, what option did I have.  I couldn't stop.  So, I was going to start running when I made it to the last trash can of this aid station, and I'd only have to run until I got to the palm tree out of chritmas lights..... then I'd walk until the disco ball under the blue string of lights, dance a bit to whatever song it was they were playing (can't for the life of me remember, but it must have been a good one) and then run until I got to the lady on the bike with the Texas flag flying behind her.  There were still quite a few spectators lining the roads, and lots of kids with hands held out for high fives.  I slapped one little girl's hand and thought to myself "That kid looks so much like Riley's friend Skyler.   HEY!  SKYLER!"  Sure enough, my family was waiting for me on the OTHER side of the street.  rather than double back, I just waved and kept on going.  Told them I'd be right back.... but then I think I slowed down some more.  I wasn't thinking all too clearly.  I made the turn-around at mile 13.... only 13 more to go.  We were parallel to the beach and between the houses I could make out a very calm sea and beautiful sunset.  Not as striking as the sunrise today, but still quite pretty through the blowing sea oats.   I couldn't help but notice that with all my run/walking I was passing and then being passed by a woman in a pink shirt that read "I ran the pillbox in blahblahblah Hawaii" on the back.  I must have spent an hour just wondering about that shirt.  The Pillbox?  What the hell was that?  What kind of natural rock formation would inspire island natives to call it the pillbox?  Was it segmented like those days of the week pillboxes?  Wasn't there a pillbox hat? Did it look like that?  Was it a name influenced by European colonists?  Surely not, no one in that time period took enough pills to necessitate and entire box.....    In the later miles of a marathon, it doesn't take much to perplex me.  At about mile 16 I wound up walk/running with a guy from Atlanta.  Nice guy.  He''d injured his hip flexor a few weeks ago and it was acting up.  His strategy was to walk 100 steps, then run 200 steps.  I'd actually tried something like that, but kept getting really bored with all that counting and usually lost count.  Single dad, 2 girls, 11 and 7, teaches math and science at a private school, was a contractor but when the economy went south found his calling in teaching 7th grade.  Had spent some time as a medic in the Navy, lived in San Diego for a bit, but got out and didn't really want to be an EMT.  You can learn a lot about someone during a marathon.  Never caught his name, though, and at about mile 19, he stayed back to walk, and I ran ahead.  Mile 20!  Yay!  Passed another couple of guys walking along and talking.  Everyone I passed at this stage said "Wow, you're running!  You look great!"  Ah, nope.  I'm only running to that tree up there, then I'm walking.  I was sorta concerned about my sodium level and my hydration.  I thought that was probably why I was getting dizzy.  I'd really been trying to guzzle fluids and electrolytes and finally managed to pee a tiny bit at mile 21 (I know, probably TMI for those of you not in the medical field, but the ability to make urine is a very good indicator of hydration status.  Your kidney's need to have some fluid going through them so that you don't wind up in renal failure - it's about 0.5ml/kg/hour.  I weigh about 50kg, and if the need to urinate is triggered at about 200-300 ml in the bladder, and I needed to hydrate at a MINIMUM enough to produce 25ml/hour of urine, and I hadn't peed in 4 hours, then I was pretty sure I was behind on hydration.... Hey, it's a long race, and I start thinking too much.)  

5 miles left.  I can do this.  The spectators that were still out and cheering for us.  If you've ever run a marathon, you know how much a random spectator can lift your spirits.  And if you've never run a marathon, but cheered on a marathon, let me tell you, you were appreciated. At about 3 miles left to go, I passed a cute little boy sitting in his mom's lap.  He was shouting at the top of his lungs: "I-R-O-N!  IRONMAN!" at every runner who passed him.  It was actually supposed to be one of my walk breaks, but no way was I going to WALK past this kid, so I pushed on.  As I drew neared he shouted "I-R-O-N!..........IRONGIRL!"  It totally made me laugh out loud and definitely gave me a boost! 

Mile 24!  At some point I had told myself I would run the last 2 miles... but walking felt so much better.  My feet hurt.  The bottom of them.  And running made them hurt more.  My thighs hurt, my neck hurt, my arms hurt, my low back hurt, and my abs hurt.  No way was I EVER going to do this again.  THis is crazy.  MILE 25!!!  I can see the last turn up ahead, and I'm running past a parking lot when someone yells "Go Ann!"  I look over and wave, but it was dark and I couldn't tell who it was.  Definately not Brian.  Oh well.  My race number had my name on it, so they must have seen that.... wow, good eyes to see that from so far away.  

LAST TURN!  And up ahead of me was the bright blue arch that must be the finish line!  Wait a second!  I FORGOT TO SKIP!  I COULDN'T GO THROUGH THIS WHOLE THING AND NOT SKIP!  Okay, it was now or never.  There were people lining both sides of the street, so if I was going to skip what better time than at the finish.  Oh, wait, can I skip?  Let me think....step, hop, step hop.... I THINK I can manage that level of neurologic control.  What if I trip?  How much would that hurt?  I could still finish... they did say crawling was allowed.  So I drew together all the mental focus I had left, concentrated really really hard, and SKIPPED ACROSS THE FINISH LINE!!!   The crowd went wild!  Everyone was cheering!  

And then on the other side of the bright blue arch, the road kept going.  THere were the timing mats, but no actual finish line. WHAT?  WHO THE HELL PUTS A BRIGHT BLUE LIT UP ARCH A HUNDRED FEET AWAY FROM THE WHITE LIT UP ARCH THAT IS THE ACTUAL FINISH LINE?  THAT'S JUST SADISTIC!  Oh well.  If I did it once, I could do it again.  As the REAL finish line drew closer I skipped hopped and danced across.  I DID IT!  I AM NOW ONE OF THOSE REALLY REALLY CRAZY PEOPLE WHO CALL THEMSELVES AN IRONMAN LIKE THEY ARE SOME SORT OF SUPERHERO AND EVEN THOUGH I'M ACTUALLY FEMALE, I'M AN IRONMAN!!!  

Whoa.  All that skipping really took it out of me.  I may puke.  

But here's a nice lady at the finish line, who takes me by the arm and laughs and compliments my finish.  She leads me to someone who gives me a medal and someone else that gives me a t shirt and someone else who gives me a hat..... wow!  Then I make my way to where they're serving more gatorade (UGH, no way.  Anything but that.) and pizza (umm, okay, I don't think that would make me puke, although it might) .  And I try to navigate my way out of the maze of barricades.  AND THERE'S BRIAN!  

So, there it is.  Long winded, and really just so I can remember as many details as possible.  I'm only going to do this once, so I'd better remember as much as possible.  

Well, maybe I'll do this again, but definately not until the kids are older, like out of high school...

OR maybe just when they're IN high school and can look after themselves so I don't have to get a babysitter.  Teenagers don't really want to spend that much time with their parents anyway, and they sleep til noon, so I'd have more time to train...

So I'm definately not going to do another one of these for 9-10 years.  

Well, except for that half Ironman I've already signed up for in April.  BUt that's just a half, I did the last half ironman with no training at all... 

Damn addicting endurance sports....

By the way, I'm pretty sure that's me in the pink cap at the bottom left of the picture above!

Pre-Ironman planning

Tomorrow is so nebulous and uncertain, that it helps for me to try and run through every little bit.



4am. Wake up. Eat 2 granola bars
Apply sunscreen
Apply body glide
Put chip on
Gather gear and drive to Walmart.
Tri shorts
Tri bra +/- regular bra
Tritop ()
Gu into flask (made holder)
Gatorade (drink 1.5.)
Pants
Sweatshirt
Gloves
Mylar blanket
Gps (charge tonight!!!!)
Cateye
Co2
Socks
Bring a towel


Catch bus to transition
Attach sensor
Attach flask
Fill drink
Co2 in pouch
Check wheel circumference
Gps in run bag
Socks in run bag


Wet suit on at 6
Cap
Goggles
Warm up at 630
Drop off morning gear

7am start
1:45
Out at 845
Peel off wetsuit, carry it to gear
Get gear bag, go to change
Towel off, apply sunscreen to face, neck back of neck and shoulders, chest, arms, thighs, legs
Put on Tri top, arm warmers, gloves, hat, calf sleeves, tights, helmet, glasses.
Carry shoes and socks to bike
All other gear in bag

Bike
20 ounces every 45
1/2 gu each hour
Salt caps or mustard.

Leave transition by 845
Mile 88by 345 (7 hours, 12.5/hour
96 by
112 by 530 (8.75 hours. Average more than 13 mph and if you start bike at 845 you'll be fine)

Assume 7:30 on the bike
Back in transition be 415pm
Rack bike
Take off shoes
Run to transition tent
Grab bag

Dump out bag
Take off helmet, gloves
Peel off tights
change into run skirt
Reapply body glide
Change socks
put on shoes
Put on gloves
Gps
Grab chips, Gatorade
Eat and run

Continue with 20 ounces every 4 miles. About 5 ounces each aid station.
Finish at 930 ish.

One week til Ironman

One week to go until my Ironman Triathlon!

I had originally signed up for this because it seems like the next logical step after running countless marathons and an ultra marathon.  I generally don't much care for biking, but I thought this would convince me to like it.

Turns out, I still don't like biking much.  And it also turns out that any fitness regimen that requires more than strapping on a pair of shoes and heading out the door is too complex for my life at this time.  Biking generally requires more time and space than exists I'm my realm.  The longest long run for a marathon will take 3 hours, and although an ultra marathon usually requires a few runs to 5-6 hours, it still seems much more do-able than gathering all the biking gear, putting it in or on my car, driving 30 minutes to a bike-friendly section of road, and staying there for 5-7 hours before heading back.  Also, there's all that black muck that gets everywhere  (and that apparently you're suppose to clean off the chain periodically... hmm.  who knew?  There's no routine wipe down of my running shoes.)

So I've been more than a little haphazard in my training regimen.  At this point, I'm just relying on sheer determination to keep me on the road and out of the med tent.

I'm well into the taper, and so today's workout was mostly just to get through both transitions and get a little more time in the water.  I generally hate being cold, and so I've been quite apprehensive about swimming in the chilly water.  I'd managed to meet up with Lezli for a swim at white point this morning.  Turns out she's not crazy about the murky water filled with sea grass - so combining her panic over underwater creatures with a nasty gash on her foot from some unfortunate hermit crab, our swim was very very short.  It was long enough, however, to prove to myself that the water won't be that unbearably cold.  I don't think I'll die on the swim.  That's very reassuring.

Our transitions went fine, and we reconvened to her house for some bike mechanical run-throughs.  So, while we tackled the tire removing and re-inflating skills that might be needed on the bike leg, Jax and Ben (Lezli's kindergartener) beat each other up with various lightsabers and Ri carried around their adorably fluffy little dog.

And although I'm going to have a heck of a time getting all this grease out from under my fingernails, I feel that I can change a flat on my bike somewhat competently.  The hardest part of it is trying not to be such a girl about the whole thing.  I keep worrying that I'll break it.  If I just forget about hurting the bike and concentrate on jamming, jabbing, torqueing and yanking with all my might I tend to do a much more rapid tire change.

So, less than a week left!  And I've still got plenty to obsess over.... there's the bento box that I'm planning to design and construct for the fancy bike I'm renting (made of fused/upcycled bubble wrap with up cycled inner tube straps..... should be quite interesting.  I'm also stressing over my profile design aero hydration system.  Turns out it's not so aero, and it's right at the front of the bike - where the bike meets the wind.  So do I get the fancy new design that IS aero, or just go with what I have?  (I've been reviewing the wind tunnel data.... I seriously need to sleep more).  I've also created and organized a list utilizing the grocery app on my iPhone to list, categorize, prioritize and organize all the gear I'll need for the triathlon and indicates which gear will be located in what bag. (there's a swim bag, bike bag, run bag for between each event and then 2 "special needs" bags that can be place at the half-way point of the bike and the run.

But on the up-side, all this excess energy is rather productive today.  For the moment there is NO MORE DIRTY LAUNDRY in the entire house.  Seriously.  I've gone through all the closets and thrown out all the too small, too old and just too much excess clothing.  Closets are re-ordered and drawers re-assigned into a multi tiered hierarchy that only I understand (you see, athletic clothes that I pull out immediately upon awakening are located in the bureau right by the bed so that I can grab them as soon as I get up.  Work clothes are in the closet where I can get them right after a shower... it all makes sense.  Really.  Don't listen to what Brian says.  He maintains that I come up with elaborate schemes of clothes organization merely to toy with him.)

Taper madness has set in...

Jax's birthday video

Took me a while to figure out how to upload this one, too!

Riley's song

So I made this video back in the spring, I just couldn't figure out how to upload til now!

What's for dinner

So, I've subscribed to this organic veggie co-op - it's wonderful!  Someone else does my produce shopping for the week and puts it all in one box.  I just go pick it up!  (Well, actually, I send Brian.) 

But the downside is that someone else picks out my veggies each week.  And while it does broaden my culinary horizons, I wind up with a lot of chard and kale.  However, you can't move from San Antonio to North Dakota, to Okinawa, to Florida (ie: Lower Alabama) without figuring out how to manage some semblance of Mexican fare with whatever you have on hand.  Therefore, tonight we are having Rutabega and Rainbow Chard Enchiladas (a recipe I actually found with google, but adapted some).  I'd also love to throw in some roasted green peppers - the ones that a patient brought me last week.  Unfortunately, they are still sitting on my desk at work, Brian is still at the boat club, onions are carmelizing, rutabegas are boiling on the stove, the two urchins are in the prime of late-summer "amuse me, Mommy" boredom...... and I can never seem to remember the code to disable the intruder alert at work AND neither do I know precisely where my key might be.

Hmm. 

Well, maybe once Brian gets home I can turn over the onion and urchin babysitting while I make a forray into the shadows of WWMC clinic on a Friday night.

Alright - Brian caramelized the onions sasifactorily, and I actually found BOTH the key and the code for the clinic (or at least I made it in and out before the cops showed up).  The enchiladas are in the oven and the urchins are tormenting each other in the living room.... time for another glass of wine while I wait for the cheese to get bubbly.

hmmm, interesting choice of wines

Rutabega Rainbow Chard and Roasted Pepper Enchiladas.

1/2 a Rutabega
4 medium red potatoes
2 red onions - sliced
2 bunches of Rainbow chard - chopped
4 green peppers (if I had to guess, I'd say maybe Anaheim?)
One large block cheddar (16oz) grated
One pack (mine had 100) corn enchiladas
Enchilada sauce of choice (I use whatever is lurking in the back of the fridge.  In this case, one jar of pasta sauce, 1/3 jar of pizza sauce and a mostly full jar of salsa, mixed and sprinkled with the remains of a package of taco seasoning)
Olive oil
salt
sugar
red wine (mostly to consume, but just to justify opening the bottle, I throw it in at the end of step 2)
1.  Shave off the outer husk and wax of the Rutabega and throw that and the red potatoes (skins on, it's easier to peel them off after they're boiled) into a pot of boiling water for 20-30 minutes - or until they're soft but still firm enough to hold together when sliced.  Slice into 1/4 inch (ish) pieces.


2.  Slice and caramelize the onions in a large saute pan.  (Put enough olive oil in the saute pan to cover the bottom and place it over medium high heat.  Once the oil is hot/shimery, throw the onions in and let them cook for about 10 minutes.  Then toss in a bout a tsp of salt and a pinch of sugar.  Turn the heat down a bit and stir occasionally, allowing the onions to brown but not burn for 30 minutes.  Throw in a splash of red wine to deglaze the pan, and add the chopped chard.  Saute for about 15-20 minutes. 

3.  Roast the peppers over an open flame (easiest is to use a gas stove (might want to turn on the vent and have a kid armed with towel ready to fan the smoke detector), but could also use a gas grill) turning them until all sides are charred, then remove and wrap them in a towel until they're cooled enough to wipe off the charred skin, remove the seeds and stem and dice. 



4.  Oil a casserole dish, and spread a thin layer of sauce on the bottom. 

5.  Mix the ingredients from steps 1-3

6.  Dip each tortilla in the sauce to soften it a bit, then fill with the veggies, roll and place them in the casserole dish.

7.  Cover the enchiladas with any extra sauce and grated cheese and bake in 400 degree oven until the cheese is melted and bubbly.  (or if you're lazy like me, layer the sauce-soaked tortillas on the bottom, then layer with the veggies, cheese, soggy tortillas, veggies, cheese, soggy tortillas and cheese.  Then bake and serve... it's pretty much the same).



So, the end result was pretty good.  Could have used more sauce and more cheese.  Riley loved hers (which isn't saying too much, she will eat most anything).  Jax was dismayed by the presence of corn tortillas and veggies (makes it rough on him, with a vegetarian mom, but I'm sure it builds character), so he ate the cheese on top and then Riley polished off the rest. 

And tomorrow night, it's roasted eggplant/squash/tomato lasagna - that will hopefully also utilize the sage, mushrooms and kale that's still in the fridge.  Poor Jax.

Barefoot running on asphalt.... Not for those with a weak stomacl

I've been toying with this idea of running in minimalist shoes for several months now. I did almost all of my training for the destin 50 barefoot, and ran my last marathon in Vibram five fingers, sp I felt adequately prepared. Then last weekend I read an interesting article in the triathlon magazine that came in my race goody bag for he LA series tri. It was about barefoot running, and some studies that suggested running with anything between your feet and the ground interferes with the feedback your feet get from the ground and prevents the barefoot running benefit of minimal joint impact.

Well, I don't do anything halfway, and why Boyer running in minimalist shoes when I could run barefoot and get he full benefit.

I'm visiting family in California, so I pulled on a pair or running capris, filled my water bottle and headed out he door sans shoes. I had planned on about nine miles, and started off down the street with that pitter pat gait of the forefoot strike that is suppose to be so good for runners to attain. After about a quarter mile I felt the typical burn at the tips of my 3-4th toe that usually means I'll be ting some nice blisters by he time the run is done. Usually on sand I don't really pay attention to them. However, after about a mile my feet were stinging a bit more than usual so I turned back in search of some shoes. I had put them in the front yard, anticipating I wouldn't quite make the whole eight miles barefoot, and had planned on just swinging by, throwing on my shoes and continuing the run. Imagine my surprise when I found that the bottoms of a few toes had ruptured blood blisters. Hmmph. I can't just throw on shoes, there sorta new, blood is going to make them all sticky inside. So professing a lack of sunscreen, I ran inside for bandaids, hoping no one would notice the real reason I was back. I'd surely have to cut my run short then. Normal people don't finish their workout when their toes are bleeding, and since I really try to keep up appearances I have to maintain a low profile.

After all, explaining to someone that I only ran two miles because of a couple of blisters sounds like I'm just making excuses. I hate feeling like a wuss.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:San Diego

Preschool Graduation!

Someday... a poem

Someday,

I will have a clean house.  

There won't be a fuzzy rainbow scarf draped over the bathroom floor next to a pair of purple and gold butterfly wings hanging from the drawer handle.

There won't be endless laundry that multiplies as soon as I turn my back.

There won't be a plasma car parked randomly in the middle of a walkway.

There won't be a partially assembled file cabinet in the middle of my bedroom floor amidst strewn packaging debris.

There won't be sounds of sibling bickering and tears floating in from the next room.

I won't be summarily summoned from whatever I'm doing to wipe.

There won't be wet towels left to languish in mildew on the bathroom floor next to muddy crocks and a not-quite-turned-off faucet.

The toothpaste won't (I SWEAR) loose it's cap the second it breaks the plane of our front door.

There won't be four light sabers littering the floor of kid #2's room with dinosaurs, a broken Millenium Falcon and umpteen legos waiting for my bare foot at 2 am.

Kid #1's room won't be newly organized with dolls lined up on a shelf and bed made.

(WAIT A SECOND!  WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN!)

I won't have gulped down two glasses of wine at dinner and then tried to sweep up the garage while stumbling over a month's worth of spilled dog food and my own feet before deciding this would make an interesting blog entry.

And I know, I just know, some part of me will be sad. 

But maybe well rested...

and sober.

Reasons #811-823 why we miss our daddy...

The house is truly utter chaos. Ant I'm not one of those people that merely says that as a CYA in case the person visiting has a higher standard of tidiness. Nope, this is true, unqualified chaos.

In my room there are about five loads of unfolded laundry that taunt me whenever I walk by. There's about two loads piled on the end of my bed, spilling over into the over-full laundry basket at the foot. The idea was that I'd have to fold it before I went to sleep. It's been there for about 4 days now, and I'm sleeping just fine.

The living room is littered with couch cusions and light sabers, and I haven't even been brave enough to venture into the kids' rooms this morning. Although, I do know that since I had to strip Jax's bed after his impromptu nap yesterday (he fell asleep at the kitchen table while eating a snack at 4pm) his comforter is strewn across the floor, the sheets are awaiting their spin in the dryer, and a fuzzy pink blanket is draped over the mattress and a throw pillow in place of actual sheets.

The outside of the house is not really immune, either. When I ran out to the driveway with stethoscope to listen to a friend's baby's lungs (long story), I noticed that all the "Bendaroo's" from yesterday were still scattered about the lawn, as was an errant bike helmet and the lap desk I'd used at a bagel-serving tray when the pack of neighborhood kids got a bit peckish yesterday afternoon. As I ran back into the house, I noticed the garage door had closed on Riley's purple scooter, leaving it half inside and half out. And I'm not even going to mention the state of my garage....

The kitchen table still hold the detritus of last night's Valentine creation binge. Snippets of glitter paper and discarded hearts litter the floor, and 5 different types of glue (plain, clear, glue stick, red glitter and pink glitter) stand among cast-off markers, glitter stars and extra envelopes. You would have thought we would have had to clean it off to eat breakfast, but nope. My kids think nothing of brushing the glitter aside and plopping their cereal bowl down amongst craft debris. Jax perturbedly glares at the glitter that's adherent to his arm and fork, brushes it off and keeps on eating.

But this morning I decided to up the ante on breakfast... we had french toast. mmmmm.

It sounded like a good idea at the time, but about 30 minutes later I'm trying to finish up the last couple of pieces of toast (and one leftover bagel) in the pan, intermittently running back and forth to the bathroom to strip down Jax (who didn't quite make it to the potty) and plop him into a bath while he howls in protest, all the while shouting words of encouragement to Riley who is standing in the hallway complaining that her arms are getting tired from waving a towel under the smoke detector. She later thoughtfully reminded me that I'm supposed to disconnect the smoke detector before cooking breakfast... I sigh and remind her that daddy usually does that, I'm not tall enough to reach.

We miss you Brian! And I promise the house WILL still be intact when you get back!

...although Jax may still be in timeout.

Recidivist - repeat offender

A couple of years ago, our dog Skoshi followed me and Riley to Riley's school, and made a brief appearance in a fifth grade classroom. Apparently the place must have made a favorable impression, because she went for an encore this morning.

February is Brian't usual month for an Air Force Reserves tour. This year, he had the unique opportunity to go to India (with stops in Nova Scotia, Spain, Crete, Thailand and Japan along the way). We figured that since the kids are getting older, we would try this month without a family member in town to help out AND without a temporary nanny. I was simply going to cut back on my work hours so that I could start a little later and be home a little earlier. Unfortunately, this just happened to coincide with a whopper of an influenza season. Not only have I been crazy busy at work, but both of my kids came down with influenza - in spite of recieving the vaccine. Yesterday evening, I found Jax laying in the middle of the floor, coat still on and that flushed-cheek, glassy-eyed febrile look of influenza. His temperature was 103... hence, preschool was out of the question for the following day, and Jax has a way of preventing me from getting ANY work done when he is in clinic with me. He just needs constant input from me ("MOMMY CAN I HOWD YOURW PHONE? PWEASE? JUST FOR A WITTLE BIT? I WON'T WATCH A SHOW. .... MOMMY CAN I WATCH A SHOW ON YOURW PHONE? PWEASE? JUST ONE? MOMMY I'M HUNGWY. DO YOU HAVE ANY COOKIES? YES YOU DO. YES YOU DO. YES YOU DO. BUT I'M SOOOO HUNGWY! PWEASE? THANK YOU FOR THE COOKIE MOMMY. ACTUALLY THAT WASNT WEALLY A COOKIE, IT WAS MOWE WIKE A SANDWICH. CAN I HAVE SOME CHOCOWATE MIWLK?" You get the idea. Any possiblity of holding a conversation or completing a thought is utterly shattered. So, after scrambling a bit, I managed to find someone who could help watch him for the day. The next morning I was getting Riley ready for school, putting the dogs outside for a potty break and trying to convince Jax that even though he wasn't going to school, he still had to change out of his pajamas to go to clinic with me for a strep and flu swab. I shooed Riley out the front door, convinced Jax to take a potty break before we left for my clinic and went to let the two dogs back in. Dozer was waiting by the back door, but Skoshi was nowhere to be seen. "Oh, Cr@p." I thought. She'd escaped again. For some reason, her goal in life is to find some other, better, family. On more than one occasion she has found her way to some neighbor's doorstep and pleaded to be taken in. Usually I have to chase after her in the car. If I just go after her on foot, there is no way she's coming back to me. But if she can get a car ride out of it, she's all in. She and Dozer managed to escape 2 days ago as well, they slipped past me as I was ushering Riley out the front door. Fortunately though, it was raining that morning, and although I still had to fetch Skoshi with the car, Dozer came back as soon as he realized 1)it was cold and wet outside and 2)I was holding a bag of lunch meat. Hence I wasn't too worried this morning when Skoshi was discovered to be missing. She always comes back, so I wasn't too worried about her. I checked in on Jax, still heading for the potty, warned him I was going outside to look for Skoshi and headed out the door. As I shut the door behind me I could hear Jax's protests "MOMMY! WAIT FOR ME! NO! MOMMY! I WANT TO GO TOO!! WAIT FOR ME! I GOTTA GO POTTY, WAIT FOR ME!"
"Of course I'll wait, but I 'll just look down the street for her and reassure the other mom's that are in the process of escorting their children down the street to school that I'm on top of the situation, and there's no need to panic.

Fortunately, Skoshi was right outside the gate, sniffing around the sago palms and looking totally unhurried. Unfortunately, as soon as she saw me, she took off trotting down the street. She made it about 20 yards, when she seemed to remember there might be something better to do, and first made a u-turn, and then a bee line for the neighborhood's back gate. The one that takes her right to the school yard. I started to head back in to the house, to gather Jax up from the potty and go in search of the dog, when I began to recall the last time she escaped at this time of morning (see other blog entry). I figured Jax was at least safe inside the house, and sprinted for the back gate. I'd no sooner made it through the gate and the break of trees when I realized I was far too late. All the cars in sight had that warily-driving-so-as-not-to-hit-the-errant-dog look about them, and all the pedestrians were turned and staring perplexedly after what I can only assume must have been Skoshi's trail. I ran across the street (impressive running in a straight skirt and heels, I must add) looking all the while for any sign of my dog. Another mom from my neighborhood saw me and casually commented "She went that way", waving towards the carpool line. (Yes, as you may have gathered from above, dog escapees from the Gwinnup house hold are only too common.) As I trotted towards the carpool line, another mom yelled from a passing car "OH! Is that yours?! She went back towards the school."

Great. Back towards the school. I've (literally as well as figuatively) been down this road before, and so has Skoshi. The rest of the school has doors closed and inaccessible to those of the canine persuasion, but not the carpool line. Doors there are wide open for anyone to saunter through. As I ran along the side of the school, following the laughing hand gestures of one teacher and then another, I thought I was home free. I was almost to the playground. If Skoshi made it this far, then odds are she's running about the play equipment, and not actually INSIDE the school. But just then, one helpful teacher called after me the words I was dreading "No, not that way, she went in through there."

"Where?" I asked, my eyes scanning for ANY OTHER OPTION.

"Those doors right there!"

Great.

Last time, Skoshi had gotten so lucky with one open door, that she tried the second open door she came to, and wound up trapped in Mrs. Lofe's fifth grade classroom. She is unfortunately for me, way too smart, because this time she bypassed all the classrooms and headed straight down the halls and towards the cafeteria - thus maximizing the chaos wrought. Every classroom door had a teacher and some kids standing outside, apparently it's not quite everyday that a dog decides to traipse through the school. I made it to the main hallway of the school, and paused to figure out which way to go, only to be instantly recognized by just about everyone I saw. Last time this happened I was lucky enough to be in shorts and flip-flops, with my hair in my face. Not so lucky this time. I turned around to come face to face with a big man grouchily toting my errant blonde dog (okay, okay, I may have been projecting my own fear of reprisal at this point. Other sources have since confirmed he was not actually grouchy.) I penetantly collected my canine, profusely appologized to anyone within 20 feet of us and proceeded to escort Skoshi out the front door. In retrospect, she might have been a little overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of exuberantly loud small people that populated the school, but there was something of a jubilant bounce in her step as we walked home - with me grumbling the whole way.

I pushed her through the doorway to find a very tearful Jax looking at me accusingly. "YOU DIDN'T WAIT FOW ME!"

So, now I have to either take Skosh out on a leash or figure out how she's managed to escape again. And I am waiting with utter trepidation for the letter that's sure to arrive home from Dr. Norris, the school principal, regarding Skoshi's unacceptable and clearly recidivist behavior. I suppose I should just get used to such letters home, though. After all, Jax does start kindergarten next fall.

Nutritional sneakery

I just got Jackson to eat half of a peanut butter, jelly and spinach sandwich (with the crusts cut off). I feel very fullfilled. Not only because of the nutritional bump, but maybe more for the trickery. I even had to put on an episode of clone wars when I caught him eyeing the sandwich contents suspiciously. It's all about camoflauge and distraction...

Frankfurter

I was recently watching Toy Story 3 with the kids. It's very heart warming. I was struck by the notion it put forth that when a child is done with her toys, they suffer being stashed away in hopes that one day they might be hauled out and played with again.

So yesterday, I rooted through our old cedar chest and found, amongst the scrapbooks and oodles of passed-notes from high school, my old monkey: Frankfurter. I had gotten him in my stocking when I was four years old. We were visiting my cousins in Denver for the holidays, and I still recall coming downstairs for Christmas morning and seeing his head peeking out the top of my stocking. For some reason, I think my brother convinced me to name him Goober. It was a great name, and I loved Goober incessantly. Then my brother also got a stuffed monkey, and reclaimed the moniker "Goober". I was left hunting for a new name for my monkey, and for some reason settled on Frankfurter. He is one of the few toys I've kept from my childhood, and he's quite the worse for wear. One of his eyes was chewed off by our dog, and subsequently replaced with one that matches in color if not in shape or size. The stuffing is wearing through the felt on one side of his face, one felt ear is missing and a felt hand is distorted from where I used to suck on them (I know, eeeew. But I can still recall that salty fuzzy feel in my mouth. And yes, I used to eat playdough, too.).

I dug him out and went in search of Riley. Jax was actually with me when I was looking for him, but I knew he would only feed poor Frankfurter to our dog or loose him at the bottom of his toy bin. So, I found Riley outside, collecting sticks to throw for the dogs in an old plastic Halloween bucket. I presented her with Frankfurter (while the dogs looked on, drooling). Telling her that years and years ago, when I was a teenager, he was stashed amongst my things and boxed up to wait for the day when I would have a little girl so he could come out and play again. She looked at him a little warily (can't blame her, he's not so pretty) and promptly asked "Is he a girl or a boy?" "Boy" I replied. Odd, really. He's always been a boy, no question, but all her stuffed animals are invariably girls. She promptly set about trying to find him something to wear, but soon realized that every bit of doll clothing she has is definitely girl. No problem, Frankfurter simply underwent "gender reassignment."

He's been with her everywhere yesterday and today. She tucks him in the front of her shirt so she can more easily galavant around the neighborhood, all the while keeping him from the dogs who eye him jealously, certain that he's supposed to be for them.

Frankfurter couldn't have asked for a better second chance.