Toby has been practising for the Bodine Family Band. His specialty is the sliding whistle, and to fit his personality he plays while running around the room. Never a slow moment for our boy!
Friday, July 31, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The Story of Stuff
While in Texas reconnecting with old friends this weekend, we noticed some trash on the ground. I picked it up saying that I didn't want to harm the earth. Matt nonchalantly declared, "I'm for littering." I looked at him surprised. Being one of my incredibly eco-conscious friends, I figured he must be joking.
"It's going into the earth anyway," he explained. "But if it's here, at least we see it."
Interesting concept. If we had to live among our trash would we produce less?
I just watched a really interesting video clip called the Story of Stuff. A little heavy-handed, but it included some eye-opening facts. I recommend watching it.
"It's going into the earth anyway," he explained. "But if it's here, at least we see it."
Interesting concept. If we had to live among our trash would we produce less?
I just watched a really interesting video clip called the Story of Stuff. A little heavy-handed, but it included some eye-opening facts. I recommend watching it.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
2009 Catch Your Breath 5K
This weekend was the annual Catch Your Breath Womens' 5K and 10K fest on Montrose Harbor, and I ran the 5K with 1100 other women from the Chicago area. Even though I only finished 6 seconds faster than my last time, it was still a personal best! The day was absolutely gorgeous for running-- in the 60s, sunny, a little wind. Because the race was so early in the day (due to the unpredictable weather) the lake was still glassy and calm. If you run slow enough to look around (which I do), it's really beautiful.
The backstory, however, is a little less polished. A series of interesting events led up to the race..
1. I took the plunge and invested in real running shoes. I got fitted at the running store by the professionals who had me running around the store and up and down the block to assess my gait and fit. All went smoothly until my sales associate suggested that I also take the time to be fitted for a sports bra. Apparently after shoes, that is the second most-important piece of running equipment for women, and it is imperative to get the right fit. I said sure and then followed the woman around the store as she explained bra types and loaded up on different models for me to try on.
She waited outside the dressing room, so she could examine how each bra fit. After rejecting the first one--too big, I tried on the next. 3/4 of the way in I realized that this bra was too small. No need to put it all the way on, but when I tried to pull it off, it had practically adhered to my skin. I twisted and contorted into all sorts of directions trying to get a good hold on this bra that had glued itself to me and I COULD NOT get it off! The woman called out, "did you get another one on?"
I laughed sheepishly, "well.. yes, but now I can't get it off.."
"Oh!" she said.
I was half cracking up alone in the dressing room and half starting to hyperventilate about not being able to get this sports bra off. I tugged and tugged, but my skin was a little sticky from the store being warm and my exertion from trying to extract myself.
"Um, if I can't get it off, I probably have to buy it, right?" I asked, now finding this totally hilarious.
"I'll give you a moment," she said politely, clearly indulging me.
I took a rest, and finally exerting all the shoulder and arm strength and flexibility I could muster, freed myself! Fresh air poured into my lungs and tears streamed down my cheeks. Just kidding, but I sure was happy to not have to cut the thing off!
I decided not to try on anymore.
2. On the eve of the race, my friend and I went to the salsa dance in the park event downtown. It was not going to be a late night, so we thought nothing of it. But after 3 hours of dancing in high heels, we limped back to the train station cursing ourselves all the way for torturing our feet and ankles the night before the race. Once home we sat on the edge of the tub eating banana bread and soaking our feet in warm water. We then decided the best course of action would be to sleep with our feet elevated.
3. Morning of the race, the feet had made somewhat of a recovery, and we sleepily got dressed for the race. I finally had some actual running attire, so I didn't look (in Laura's words) "like a hobo walking down the street who said, 'oh look! a race' and joined in." However just before walking out the door, I realized my snazzy running pants were on inside out.
Clearly I'm still just a hobo in fancy clothes.
The backstory, however, is a little less polished. A series of interesting events led up to the race..
1. I took the plunge and invested in real running shoes. I got fitted at the running store by the professionals who had me running around the store and up and down the block to assess my gait and fit. All went smoothly until my sales associate suggested that I also take the time to be fitted for a sports bra. Apparently after shoes, that is the second most-important piece of running equipment for women, and it is imperative to get the right fit. I said sure and then followed the woman around the store as she explained bra types and loaded up on different models for me to try on.
She waited outside the dressing room, so she could examine how each bra fit. After rejecting the first one--too big, I tried on the next. 3/4 of the way in I realized that this bra was too small. No need to put it all the way on, but when I tried to pull it off, it had practically adhered to my skin. I twisted and contorted into all sorts of directions trying to get a good hold on this bra that had glued itself to me and I COULD NOT get it off! The woman called out, "did you get another one on?"
I laughed sheepishly, "well.. yes, but now I can't get it off.."
"Oh!" she said.
I was half cracking up alone in the dressing room and half starting to hyperventilate about not being able to get this sports bra off. I tugged and tugged, but my skin was a little sticky from the store being warm and my exertion from trying to extract myself.
"Um, if I can't get it off, I probably have to buy it, right?" I asked, now finding this totally hilarious.
"I'll give you a moment," she said politely, clearly indulging me.
I took a rest, and finally exerting all the shoulder and arm strength and flexibility I could muster, freed myself! Fresh air poured into my lungs and tears streamed down my cheeks. Just kidding, but I sure was happy to not have to cut the thing off!
I decided not to try on anymore.
2. On the eve of the race, my friend and I went to the salsa dance in the park event downtown. It was not going to be a late night, so we thought nothing of it. But after 3 hours of dancing in high heels, we limped back to the train station cursing ourselves all the way for torturing our feet and ankles the night before the race. Once home we sat on the edge of the tub eating banana bread and soaking our feet in warm water. We then decided the best course of action would be to sleep with our feet elevated.
3. Morning of the race, the feet had made somewhat of a recovery, and we sleepily got dressed for the race. I finally had some actual running attire, so I didn't look (in Laura's words) "like a hobo walking down the street who said, 'oh look! a race' and joined in." However just before walking out the door, I realized my snazzy running pants were on inside out.
Clearly I'm still just a hobo in fancy clothes.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Tango
For those of you who watch Dancing With the Stars or So You Think You Can Dance, this is not that! This is social tango. The kind where someone comes up to you and says, "Would you like to dance?" and you say, "okay"--
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
An Elemental Day
I had to have a little distance before blogging about this, that's why it's about 2-3 weeks delayed.
One Friday afternoon with plans to go to the Botanic Garden to smell the roses, I left work at my usual time and boarded my usual train. Things were going smashingly until...
One stop after I boarded, just before pulling into the station, we heard an awful grating noise that seemed to come from underneath the train. Everyone began to shuffle uncomfortably. Then we heard the noise again, and subsequently the train powered down and we stopped moving. It became eerily silent, and then we heard the noise again. People were really getting restless now, and suddenly a passenger sitting in a window seat called out, "the train's on fire!"
There was a moment where we, the passengers, seemed to collectively hesitate between panic and waiting calmly for instruction from the CTA Authority over the loudspeaker. None came, and instantly, someone pulled the emergency door release. We were almost all the way into the station, so all the cars but the last were able to step out onto the platform. I think the last car (where the sparks/flames were coming from) had to file into the next car to get out. There was a certain amount of chaos as people scrambled out the doors and ran down the smokey platform. Still, there was no direction or announcement from the CTA. It was unclear whether we were supposed to run as far away as possible because the train might explode, or if we were just supposed to sit tight and wait to be told what to do.
Luckily no one was hurt, and the flames only appeared while the grating noise was happening. The firemen walked in and out of the scene in a flash, and the rest of us waited in puzzlement without a word (in the entire 30 minutes that I waited) from the CTA about what was going on or that northbound trains were delayed, etc. I placed a few harried phone calls to my fellow Botanic Garden-bound friends relaying the info that I would miss my connecting train, etc, and we came up with a new plan of escape.
Later that evening, after our train dropped us a mile's walk from the Garden, all was peace and love as we smothered ourselves in roses of countless varieties and colors. They were beautiful even as stormy skies threatened overhead. As we ventured deeper and deeper into the garden, we began to hear the distant rumble of thunder. Then slowly the sky began to flash with lightning. When the drops started falling we contented ourselves with peering at the bonsai collection from under our umbrellas. But then our umbrellas began to fail us. The rain was too strong! We ducked inside a building with connecting greenhouses to wait it out.
And we waited. And waited... And waited. Then we began to wonder if this wasn't the second great flood that God was sending to wipe out all but Noah and his crew. We emerged from the building under a tent and watched amazed as the rain fell so hard and so fast that we could neither hear ourselves talk (unless we were singing operatic arias ;) ) nor see more than 10 feet beyond the edge of the tent.
It was getting late, and the moment the rain lightened a little we dashed down the path to the Visitors' Center knowing that the Garden closes at sunset, and no one knew we were still inside. Thankfully the visitors' center was still opened and we picked up a train schedule. Unfortunately we still had a mile back up the hill to the train station. Taxis were delayed because of the stormy weather, so we had no choice but to walk. We wandered back down the pedestrian trail to the edge of the garden-- a good 10-15 minute walk--, only to discover, to our dismay, that the gate was locked! We edged along the fence (through the hedge, I might add) trying to find a hole in the border where we could escape, but no luck! We were locked in! With too little time to go back to the visitors' center if we wanted to make the train to Chicago, we had no choice. We had to climb.
And climb we did--over a wet, 8-ft, chainlink fence. I was the first one over, while one friend held my purse and umbrella and the other worried below. When I got to the very top, I became momentarily entangled in a snarl of low-lying limbs, and I was laughing so hard that I was sure I'd fall to my death. However, one by one we made it over and began our trek up the hill. Normally, up the hill would be no problem at all, but on a day like that with the enormous amount of rain that fell in the span of an hour or two, the sidewalk was an actual, ankle-deep river. We were absolutely sopping wet.
Surely, once we reached the top of the hill we would get some reprieve from the rushing water cascading over our feet. Not so. At the top, the water covered not only the sidewalk, but the entire road and beyond. Cars were barreling through hoping to avoid stalling in the middle, and each time they sent waves lapping at our shins. There was no way to go around it, so we waded in. The water got deeper and deeper until it was up to our knees! A boy and his dad were playing in their driveway, and the boy was waist-deep! I thought of alligators and water snakes, and drudged through as quick as I could.
We made it onto the train, and shivered all the way home in the air-conditioning. Finally home, I stripped off the wet clothes and jumped into bed. I don't think I moved until morning.
An eventful day, if I may. I think my shoes will never be the same.
One Friday afternoon with plans to go to the Botanic Garden to smell the roses, I left work at my usual time and boarded my usual train. Things were going smashingly until...
One stop after I boarded, just before pulling into the station, we heard an awful grating noise that seemed to come from underneath the train. Everyone began to shuffle uncomfortably. Then we heard the noise again, and subsequently the train powered down and we stopped moving. It became eerily silent, and then we heard the noise again. People were really getting restless now, and suddenly a passenger sitting in a window seat called out, "the train's on fire!"
There was a moment where we, the passengers, seemed to collectively hesitate between panic and waiting calmly for instruction from the CTA Authority over the loudspeaker. None came, and instantly, someone pulled the emergency door release. We were almost all the way into the station, so all the cars but the last were able to step out onto the platform. I think the last car (where the sparks/flames were coming from) had to file into the next car to get out. There was a certain amount of chaos as people scrambled out the doors and ran down the smokey platform. Still, there was no direction or announcement from the CTA. It was unclear whether we were supposed to run as far away as possible because the train might explode, or if we were just supposed to sit tight and wait to be told what to do.
Luckily no one was hurt, and the flames only appeared while the grating noise was happening. The firemen walked in and out of the scene in a flash, and the rest of us waited in puzzlement without a word (in the entire 30 minutes that I waited) from the CTA about what was going on or that northbound trains were delayed, etc. I placed a few harried phone calls to my fellow Botanic Garden-bound friends relaying the info that I would miss my connecting train, etc, and we came up with a new plan of escape.
Later that evening, after our train dropped us a mile's walk from the Garden, all was peace and love as we smothered ourselves in roses of countless varieties and colors. They were beautiful even as stormy skies threatened overhead. As we ventured deeper and deeper into the garden, we began to hear the distant rumble of thunder. Then slowly the sky began to flash with lightning. When the drops started falling we contented ourselves with peering at the bonsai collection from under our umbrellas. But then our umbrellas began to fail us. The rain was too strong! We ducked inside a building with connecting greenhouses to wait it out.
And we waited. And waited... And waited. Then we began to wonder if this wasn't the second great flood that God was sending to wipe out all but Noah and his crew. We emerged from the building under a tent and watched amazed as the rain fell so hard and so fast that we could neither hear ourselves talk (unless we were singing operatic arias ;) ) nor see more than 10 feet beyond the edge of the tent.
It was getting late, and the moment the rain lightened a little we dashed down the path to the Visitors' Center knowing that the Garden closes at sunset, and no one knew we were still inside. Thankfully the visitors' center was still opened and we picked up a train schedule. Unfortunately we still had a mile back up the hill to the train station. Taxis were delayed because of the stormy weather, so we had no choice but to walk. We wandered back down the pedestrian trail to the edge of the garden-- a good 10-15 minute walk--, only to discover, to our dismay, that the gate was locked! We edged along the fence (through the hedge, I might add) trying to find a hole in the border where we could escape, but no luck! We were locked in! With too little time to go back to the visitors' center if we wanted to make the train to Chicago, we had no choice. We had to climb.
And climb we did--over a wet, 8-ft, chainlink fence. I was the first one over, while one friend held my purse and umbrella and the other worried below. When I got to the very top, I became momentarily entangled in a snarl of low-lying limbs, and I was laughing so hard that I was sure I'd fall to my death. However, one by one we made it over and began our trek up the hill. Normally, up the hill would be no problem at all, but on a day like that with the enormous amount of rain that fell in the span of an hour or two, the sidewalk was an actual, ankle-deep river. We were absolutely sopping wet.
Surely, once we reached the top of the hill we would get some reprieve from the rushing water cascading over our feet. Not so. At the top, the water covered not only the sidewalk, but the entire road and beyond. Cars were barreling through hoping to avoid stalling in the middle, and each time they sent waves lapping at our shins. There was no way to go around it, so we waded in. The water got deeper and deeper until it was up to our knees! A boy and his dad were playing in their driveway, and the boy was waist-deep! I thought of alligators and water snakes, and drudged through as quick as I could.
We made it onto the train, and shivered all the way home in the air-conditioning. Finally home, I stripped off the wet clothes and jumped into bed. I don't think I moved until morning.
An eventful day, if I may. I think my shoes will never be the same.
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