Making the Founding Fathers proud

It's National Patriotic Holiday again, and as usual we're cramming as many people into my cabin as possible. It used to be that to merit a bedroom you had to be part of a couple; now with all the kids (4 this year!) the ante is upped and Husband and I will soon find ourselves on the porch (or worse: in the garage) if we don't start reproducing.

With the 4th on a Wednesday (how unpatriotic!) and my brother in the BWCA (practically in Canada, traitor!), and with two infants, the weekend promises to be a bit different this year. It's only a hunch, but I'm guessing that less time will be spent
1. drinking

2. tubing

3. playing with fire

Which sounds pretty good to me. Relaxing sounds much more appealing than the usual game of Consume-All-the-Required-Drinks-While-Still-Remaining-Upright! (Having my brother off wandering through the woods helps, because his Bloody Marys and Pina Coladas are considered a must. And it's not like the rounds of shots are optional, either.)

So here's to hoping the weekend doesn't contain poison ivy and emergency room trips (like in '04) or speeding tickets (like in '05).

Extra innings

I'm playing first base. The hit - it's a fly ball, coming to me! I back up, back up, back, back, back... stretch out my arm ... nearly there ... and ...

thunk!

My hand lands solidly on Husband's face.

Oh dear.

"Sorry!" I mumble sheepishly, before turning over and falling back asleep.

Vacation Diaries, Day 10: Marathon!

My last vacation day of the Vacation Diaries challenge was one that I had planned for a long time -- taking Friday off to go up to Duluth for Grandma's Marathon on Saturday.

Worst thing about the race: The weather. It was already hot and humid when the race started at 7:30. By mile 2 I was covered in sweat. The sun was unrelenting, and there weren't any clouds or shade to offer reprieve.

Best thing about the race: The community support and that the race was extremely well organized. The people from Two Harbors to Duluth were awesome, and the city of Duluth really turns out and does an amazing job.

Favorite T-shirts slogans worn by fellow runners:

I'm with stupid (arrows pointing in all directions)

I have to poop

Favorite cheers from the crowd:

Mile 16 - Don't feel bad about the heat, you'll do better next year!

Mile 18 - You're almost there!

Lowest point: At mile 17, realizing that I was alone and would be running the next 9.2 miles by myself

Highest point: Seeing my family seven times, which is so AMAZING it deserves capital letters and a medal and finisher T-shirt of their own. Seeing friends KS, GR, and RL at Mile 25 (and nearly equally as great, distracting myself during Miles 19-25 by idly looking for them).



















Most frustrating point: That damn finish line! It's short sequences of two blocks, two blocks, two blocks, over and over, and each one does not yield the finish line.

Final time — 4:22!

Most proud: Of running the whole thing at a steady pace and feeling good the whole time.

Of course, I want to do it again, but I think I should probably take a break. I also realize that I was incredibly lucky -- with the heat you're just doing your best to guess how much water and gu you need. Next time it could easily be me puking on the side of the street or hobbling on cramped legs.

Blood test #2

I haven't talked very much about volunteering to be a kidney donor for my aunt because it seemed like I should wait until it was official. But it's been on my mind a lot the past few months... and even for the past few years, as I first volunteered three or four years ago. (My uncle (her husband) and my grandma have also donated kidneys to her, but because of a strange blood clot issue, both kidneys died).

I didn't volunteer because I wanted to make some grand noble gesture, I did it because of logic. As someone young, healthy, and closely related but not too closely related, it seemed to me that I was the best option. And sure, I might get some nice presents afterward and get to lie around eating ice cream.

I had my first blood test a few weeks ago -- I passed, but not really because I was a stellar match, but mostly because modern technology could overcome the deficiencies.

I went in for my second blood test earlier this week. If I passed, the final step in the donor screening process would be a trip to Mayo for a lengthy examination.

Test #2: Six vials of blood to test the antibody reaction

When you're young and healthy, it's hard to imagine failing any medical test, even ones that have nothing to do with your relative fitness. So I was surprised and disappointed to hear that I had failed. The antibodies in my aunt's blood reacted too strongly to my blood.

So after preparing myself for the scar, the surgery, the two weeks off from work, and the lifetime ban from playing football, I find myself with a free schedule, and the knowledge that I'll still be able to wear bikinis. (I was still going to, of course, because who cares, but now I won't have to think about).

It's not my fault that I didn't pass, but I still feel sad.

Please tell me

Please tell me that I'm not the only woman to come home, kick off my heels, tear off my button-down blouse, and sink into a bath? Or collapse on the couch with a G&T? Or throw myself in a book with a martini and maybe some good cheese? Or dive into bed and hide under the covers with no drink but also no clothes?

How do women with children do it? After being Madam Boss and Ms. Project Leader and Chief Coordinator of Scary Projects all day, sometimes I need to come home and be 17. 

28

I got some amazing gifts for my birthday this year -- I was truly spoiled by both expense and thoughtfulness -- but I couldn't help taking a picture of this perfect little gift.

I'll hardly be able to stop admiring them to eat them. And what to make? What form will allow for their greatest appreciation? Everything -- scrambled, saladed, quiched, deviled -- sounds sacrilege, yet at the same time, divine.

Compost

I’m embarrassed to admit it took us this long, but we finally got around to getting a compost bin.

“You can’t have a compost bin in the city!” my mom fretted. “The raccoons! The smell!”

I heeded her warnings for awhile, but then realized that since the county sells us compost bins at reduced prices, surely they know what they're doing. So I ordered one.



















Until a recent farmer's market-fueled cooking frenzy expanded its diet, the bin relied a heavily on two H family staples: lime wedges and coffee grounds.

So I guess I ran a marathon!

Everything I'd ever heard about running marathons was about the wall you'd hit at Mile 21. About the blood and tears, the pain and the cursing.

So I was in disbelief at the Med-City Marathon on Sunday, when my only tears were from laughing and the only time I doubled over was with the giggles. Dubbed the "party pack" by the water stop volunteers, our mobile party of 12 goo-gel- and endorphin-high runners whooped, told sex stories, heckled volunteers, and cheered on other runners for 26.2 miles. Part of our giddiness came from the success we were having with a new running strategy. Since it was a training marathon, we wanted to take it easy, and decided to try out 6-and-1s (stopping every six minutes for a one-minute walk) instead of 10-and-1s (once every 10 minutes). The rumor around the run club is that running guru Galloway said that 6-and-1s are really the way to do a marathon, but no one we knew had tried it.

We were stopping every six minutes to walk (crazy!) and running at a slower pace than we usually do, but it soon became clear we were maintaining a 4:30 pace (my goal time for the real marathon). Sure enough, we crossed the finish line at 4:32! Chatting, laughing, and hooting up to the end.

Afterward, wearing our medals and chugging Gatorade, we all stood there, sort of stunned, emotionally detached since this wasn't our real marathon. But proud nonetheless, and knowing that we had been part of something amazing.

Then we split for our respective hotel rooms to lay around in ice.

I've embarked on an intense (and ice-filled) rehab regimen to get these legs back in shape to do it again in three weeks.

And this time, I'm pushing it 'til we get to blood and tears.