tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50780428887072021332024-02-21T09:44:36.822-05:00The Pilgrim SoleUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger405125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-77923448524721278192024-02-21T09:29:00.001-05:002024-02-21T09:44:03.651-05:00plastic pilgrim - 72 days to go<p>I had an illuminating morning. After months of hemming and hawing, I think I've decided to pay to have my backpack transported from albergue to albergue instead of carrying it myself.</p><p>I went out for a 3.5 mile walk around my neighborhood this morning carrying an 11 pound pack, which is about half the weight of the pack I would be carrying. It was fine, really. I had no trouble with the weight. It was a little bit of a struggle to get the straps just right, but that sorted itself out soon enough. My biggest "gear" problem was that my leggings were falling down, and I had to hike them up every five minutes. That's a good lesson to me to wear the pants that I am planning to wear on the Camino as I train. I also have been testing a new pair of shoes, and I rejected those this morning, too. They are too flimsy for my heavy frame. I need something more supportive. I am getting closer to figuring out which socks I want to wear. I think the toe sock Injinji liners with the Darn Tough hiking socks over them are the solution. Much of this morning was a good lesson to practice doing everything just the way I plan to when I am in Spain.</p><p>I found myself reflecting on what I want from my days on the Camino. The answer is that I want to go for a lot of beautiful walks. I want that feeling of bliss and freedom that comes with moving my body through the countryside and towns all day. Is it really important to me to carry my own belongings? No. It doesn't particularly matter to me. I think the cost is pretty minimal (maybe 6 Euro per day--have to check) to have someone drive my bag to the next spot where I will lay my head. It means I am locked into reserving and going to the designated place each day, but that's really okay. When I was walking before, we called people who had their luggage transported "plastic pilgrims." I'm happy to embrace that term if it means I get to keep walking.</p><p>Part of the project of getting ready for the Camino was to take better care of my body. And I have been. I haven't lost as much weight as I would like, but I am much fitter and stronger than I was a year ago. I'm proud of myself! I now feel as though it is a doable challenge to walk 10 miles per day for over a month. That's an amazing thing to be able to say. It will be <i>hard</i>, but I think I can do it.</p><p>Even though I have made progress, I am still quite overweight. Walking every day with excess poundage on my back will put additional stress on my already overburdened knees and feet. It will probably result in blisters. It will definitely result in soreness. And most importantly, it will likely impede my primary goal of enjoying the walking. Why in the world would I carry my pack if it means I am going to risk injury that will destroy my trip entirely?</p><p>Pilgrims are always talking about the lessons they learn on the Camino. I guess my lesson here is that taking care of my body requires balance. Sometimes taking care of myself means pushing it harder; sometimes it means being gentle. </p><p>I'll still pack light and maybe partway through the Camino, when I have gotten stronger, I will feel like carrying my own backpack. Or maybe not! </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-45687488289489103332024-01-01T18:47:00.004-05:002024-01-01T18:47:59.399-05:00new year - 123 days to go<p> Before heading to a New Year's Eve celebration last night, I donned my sparkly party skirt and put on my brand new boots for a little sunset walk around the National Mall. It was an excellent way to usher out the old year and walk into the new one.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOK5sCmI4LWNB0T2hPqqoHC80_o7b7w50w8tHDaljsAE5ihPcW0_wecilB1a2NerHmbkhLmceKhMksh2iM_EFcKBtQc_nBmrxPE9uuBAk3jc8PrCjkZ-glYpfSKMAI6VJMt-gV9k7sbE8s7SlyO99p01ICQzUKufBJCyeV4l9FGf3FPCQLeX918CIwAS5K" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1017" data-original-width="763" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOK5sCmI4LWNB0T2hPqqoHC80_o7b7w50w8tHDaljsAE5ihPcW0_wecilB1a2NerHmbkhLmceKhMksh2iM_EFcKBtQc_nBmrxPE9uuBAk3jc8PrCjkZ-glYpfSKMAI6VJMt-gV9k7sbE8s7SlyO99p01ICQzUKufBJCyeV4l9FGf3FPCQLeX918CIwAS5K=w240-h320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4Zo58-RFWo9VzkfzcqqKDJ_VEK2di_xtYQ7aRhaHyepoiHM3yo0envF0jJ9BmCBpQ97CZhrByafJYBP071yS5N7VT3MC7_ihFOfJLl9TzGo3h81hab4mxiA0N69X9vbRNfJYzasvOJ8GesxfGrJRTmCdPER2ZCPHl_6vWAeW_3s3CuE92NQ32NxDiXA_/s4032/IMG_8108.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4Zo58-RFWo9VzkfzcqqKDJ_VEK2di_xtYQ7aRhaHyepoiHM3yo0envF0jJ9BmCBpQ97CZhrByafJYBP071yS5N7VT3MC7_ihFOfJLl9TzGo3h81hab4mxiA0N69X9vbRNfJYzasvOJ8GesxfGrJRTmCdPER2ZCPHl_6vWAeW_3s3CuE92NQ32NxDiXA_/s320/IMG_8108.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-52888873939083550542023-11-25T09:42:00.003-05:002023-11-25T09:42:41.030-05:00walksgiving - 160 days to go!My Thanksgiving plans changed abruptly, and I had a lot of unexpected time this week, so I declared this the Week of Thankful Walking and decided to devote myself to putting one foot in front of the other in various circumstances with gratitude that I am able to move my body. At the risk of sounding like <i>The Very Hungry Caterpillar</i>, here's the day-by-day story of Walksgiving:<div><br /></div><div>On Sunday, I went for a walk with a 50L backpack filled with a few things to test it out. The walk was very energizing--a beautiful day to wander around the Mall and the monuments. It renewed my enthusiasm to walk the Camino. I had been flagging a bit, feeling as though training was a bit of a chore, but that day's outing made me smile so many times.</div><div><br /></div><div>I stopped for lunch at Burrito Brothers and met a guy who had just hiked the PCT. We chatted a bit. It felt nice to connect with someone about walking. When we parted, I gave him and his friend a clementine apiece, and he wished me, "Happy Walksgiving!" Tarzan (his trail name) and I agreed that my pack was too big. I was also worried that my boots were too small. So after walking for 7 miles, I took my swollen feet to REI where I tried on a few pair and decided to go up half a size in the same type of boots. I bought a different backpack, too. It's much smaller. It feels so nice and snug. To be honest, I also like it because it is orange with purple zippers.</div><div><br /></div><div>On Monday, inspired by a neighbor who does the same thing, I walked the mile to my gym to attend my Body Pump class. That felt great, too. It was nice to warm up by walking on the way there and cool down by walking on the way back. It was a little extra workout. I'll try to work that into my routine from now on.</div><div><br /></div><div>On Tuesday, I had a bad day at work and needed to move my feet. Rather than go to the gym, I grabbed my big rainbow umbrella, a gift to myself during the pandemic when I felt compelled to get out no matter the weather, and wandered around my neighborhood in the rain. Why do I always have to remind myself how much I like walking no matter the weather? It felt wonderful.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then on Wednesday, I went for a stroll at night, which I don't usually do. Again, it felt fantastic. Again, I wondered why I have to remind myself to go out no matter the weather, no matter the time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thursday was Thanksgiving. When I considered how I wanted to spend my time alone in the morning, I decided to combine yoga, walking to the gym, and doing a new exercise class. Funny that whenever I have a spare day to myself, I tend to think of yoga and a walk as the treat I crave. Why don't I just do those things every day? Why does it have to be a special day?</div><div><br /></div><div>Friday I challenged myself to join a local chapter of Camino walkers on an opt-out walk (anti-Black Friday). We walked from Alexandria over the Wilson Bridge along 495 to National Harbor and back. I was nervous to go, worried that everyone would be too fast, but I needn't have been concerned. I certainly was on the slow side, but I ended up chatting with a lovely woman named Ann for the entire 6 miles. I hope we'll walk together again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Saturday--today--was dress rehearsal day. All throughout the week, I've been paying attention to Black Friday sales. I looked up on this blog to find my <a href="https://pilgrimsole.blogspot.com/2007/05/packing-list.html" target="_blank">packing list from 2007</a> and started to modify it. I found deals on all kinds of things that I need. Lots of things will be arriving in the mail this week! Yesterday, I did a pretend packing, putting together most of the things I need so that I could figure out if I have the right pack and if I can carry it comfortably. This morning at dawn, I put on the pack and carried it around the neighborhood. I had on the new boots with the liner socks and big socks. It was like a real dress rehearsal. And you know what? It went great! I did 3 miles with the pack with a moderate level of exertion.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here I am at the end of Walksgiving, feeling truly thankful and way more excited about my upcoming Camino than I started the week. I declare Walksgiving was a success!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-41202451379907256222023-10-03T18:15:00.005-04:002023-10-03T22:24:39.484-04:00backpack - 213 days to go<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ81h3nDcnQXYb3svdNnpsp59jAd38kFdMWX4HKsCGeQEtSBZ0G9cHxq-R0c4LR1c98RBoHnlPgl7Jw3W1JXAfXNyXd1x5w5-CAbpXrkUZKxOF-gi5Dz5tDP2LBovtJEGJEAQGuUDA19DoevJex2JP94arhGDUbNRqHisuis8BnBTrfvrzikT2Mxyvfo_z/s4032/IMG_6710.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ81h3nDcnQXYb3svdNnpsp59jAd38kFdMWX4HKsCGeQEtSBZ0G9cHxq-R0c4LR1c98RBoHnlPgl7Jw3W1JXAfXNyXd1x5w5-CAbpXrkUZKxOF-gi5Dz5tDP2LBovtJEGJEAQGuUDA19DoevJex2JP94arhGDUbNRqHisuis8BnBTrfvrzikT2Mxyvfo_z/s320/IMG_6710.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I took my new green backpack out for its inaugural walk today. It was sunny and in the 80s in early October, so I was feeling inspired. I tossed some tshirts in for weight, loaded it up with a water bladder, and headed to Old Town waterfront. Most of the other folks who were out and about were strolling idly in the last gasps of summer weather. I’m sure I looked goofy with my hiking boots and walking stick, but I felt quite good. The pack wasn’t very heavy. It still needs adjusting so that it perches on my ample hips just right. But it’s a start…</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-22583872292882071922023-09-19T19:46:00.000-04:002023-09-19T19:46:01.312-04:00running - 227 days to go<p> I didn't want to go for a walk after work today, but it was a beautiful late summer evening, so I talked myself into lacing up my sneakers. I made a deal with myself that I only had to walk on the flat sidewalks near my house and then I could go home. But once I walked that for about 20 minutes or so, I was feeling good and decided to go down a hill and walk on a wooded path to enjoy some of the final glimpses of green this season.</p><p>I've been feeling pretty good about my progress. I've been moving my body frequently. I'm eating more healthily. (I have absolutely nothing good to snack on in the house. In one desperate move, I had to scrounge some 8 year old M&Ms to satisfy a chocolate craving.), but my weight is down since July. Yesterday morning, I was delighted to step on the scale and find that I have lost a Calliope and a half. Somehow measuring in cats seems more meaningful than measuring in pounds. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmyO5QV6TShNFwESpwK9P1emWoXnUhvfzWeix4EdsutNm2IiZlsekjxL5d000wIY9l8t_G810QBtchPJh4k9lhEhlojbjRLHHhv2X1uqHUuu9Ayxmb1zcZEkL7cWDw7Dt9TlXL5de4lG3xDuHh8bj2DZ_dLKxF1DSDd-y9MyC2EdnwRPHZ9qrkiWborygy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1317" data-original-width="989" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmyO5QV6TShNFwESpwK9P1emWoXnUhvfzWeix4EdsutNm2IiZlsekjxL5d000wIY9l8t_G810QBtchPJh4k9lhEhlojbjRLHHhv2X1uqHUuu9Ayxmb1zcZEkL7cWDw7Dt9TlXL5de4lG3xDuHh8bj2DZ_dLKxF1DSDd-y9MyC2EdnwRPHZ9qrkiWborygy" width="180" /></a></div><br />During my walk today, I made it to the end of the wooded path and started to turn around, I thought about a conversation I had a few weeks ago with a high school friend named Mike who has taken up running. When I told him that I ran a 10 mile race in 2007, and that I was really, really slow, and hadn't really run since, he pointed out that my time in 2007 was faster than the race I <i>didn't </i>run in 2008 (and '09, '10, '11 . . .). Something about that stuck with me. Why not try--<i>try</i>--to run. If I didn't like it, I didn't have to do it again.<p></p><p>I had downloaded a Couch to 5K app while chatting with my friend. Over the past couple of weeks, it kept sending me these nagging messages asking me if I was ready to get started. Finally, I was. I opened the app, put on a Spotify "Bridgiefit" playlist I had thrown together a while back, and found myself listening to "Eye of the Tiger" just as the app prompted me to run for 30 seconds. </p><p>That's not very many seconds. I shuffled along, feeling self conscious about my lumbering body as I nodded to (and avoided eye contact with) the other people on the path, but I soon realized that whatever I was doing was better than what I did yesterday!</p><p>I made a strategic error by deciding to try running on the <i>uphill</i> part of my journey, but by the time I arrived home, I had done several run/walk intervals. Will I do it again? It felt . . . okay. Not bad exactly. But not good either. We'll have to see . . .</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-56196768856502466452023-08-30T11:07:00.000-04:002023-08-30T11:07:07.825-04:00habits - 247 days to go<p>How can I prepare my body for walking 500 miles? In some ways it's overwhelming, but it's also thrilling to have a big goal. Much of the reason for the trip is to establish an incentive to get in better shape. I want to meet my 50 year old self, and I want to be proud of her. So the voyage to Spain is the reward. But taking good care of myself is its own reward.</p><p>I need to change my eating habits. Last time I did it, I had just lost a lot of weight, and this time I need to lose a lot of weight again. It doesn't feel like I want to do it for vanity's sake or because I need to look a certain way. It's more straightforward--the less weight I carry on my bones, the easier it will be on my joints to wander along through the flowers and the meadows. It's akin to packing less in my backpack. I don't want to be weighed down any more than I have to be. I'm trying to remember that every time I make a choice of what I put in my mouth, I'm making a choice about what I want to bring with me next May. So I'm assiduously logging my food and hoping the numbers on the scale go down. I'll probably need to get a lot more disciplined than just that, but it's a start.</p><p>I also need to figure out my physical training schedule. I do so much better when I have a routine. It's coming together piece by piece. A long walk (or two) on weekends. Body Pump at the gym two days per week. Yoga and walking during the week. It will help me to put that on the schedule rather than just going whenever I feel like it. </p><p>Those plans are fine, but I feel like I need some more butt kicking, too. Last time I finished the Camino, I had just run a 10 mile race. Is it too crazy to imagine doing that again? At this point, I couldn't even run a 5K. I was also doing a boot camp at that time. I wouldn't mind doing that again. This morning I went to a personal training session, and although that would be a nice addition, it's just too pricey. Maybe it's time for me to think about developing a gym routine of my own. I have a hard time pushing myself with weights, though. I do so much better in a group, which is funny because I am going to Spain to walk alone. Something to think about. How does my fitness relate to other people?</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-24647099548925772262023-08-14T08:27:00.000-04:002023-08-14T08:27:20.396-04:00tenderfoot - 263 days to go<p> I went for a morning walk today and noticed that the bottoms of my feet are tender from pounding the pavement yesterday. I'll have to wear boots for the next long walk. As I recall, pilgrims talk a lot about their feet, and one of the best things you can do is to prepare yours for what they are going to experience. No more pedicures for me. I want my hoofs to be tough. I also want my boots to be well broken in. I own boots from my walk in N Ireland last year. I haven't tried them on in awhile. I'm not sure if they are The Boots. They don't lace up well around my big ankles, but that could change in time. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-34274121601572969552023-08-13T17:17:00.003-04:002023-08-13T17:17:46.441-04:00Sunday walk - 264 days to go I have a countdown app on the lock screen of my phone, which is keeping track of the number of days until I get on a plane for Spain in 2024 to walk the Camino de Santiago in celebration of my 50th birthday. It's intimidating to think about all that I need to do between now and then to prepare for the trip, but it's also really exciting and energizing. <div><br /></div><div>I went for a long walk today (or what counts as a long walk when there are 264 days to go). For 7.6 miles, I wandered along the Mall and around Capitol Hill in the 90 degree heat. I wore sneakers, though I think that next time I'll wear boots because by the end, the soles of my feet were a little uncomfortable from pounding the pavement. I carried a tiny backpack with just water and essentials. By early May of next year, I look forward to doing double that number of miles per day (day after day after day--for a bare minimum of 30 days, probably more) while carrying a much bigger backpack. Despite the heat, it felt joyful to move my body--up until about the last mile. </div><div><br /></div><div>There were lots of people around enjoying the summer Sunday. As I watched them, I felt as though I had a secret. To look at me, you wouldn't know that I was starting such a meaningful journey. Even though I was in high spirits, I wasn't lightfooted. I was aware of the changes that need to take place with my body before I can undertake another long walk. I'm committed, though. I need to lose inches and pounds to get into Camino shape. I have a lot of tough workouts and training ahead before May 3, 2024. Part of me doubts that I can do it, but part of me is thrilled by the challenge.</div><div><br /></div><div>I walked past the Capitol Building, and it was under construction. We both are.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIEXJZY_PzXARjNcT7xDaL68KSDQcuqD6AxxTO6dPG34ucHSaU0FcWkzPx7fuJmnU8XkY1QQ03Nnap1EGth17IMMi6EzKKuGErrcqyvaJDxwkf20wFvUvtdxRJg-UIizJXdxdvVXc0Q2vGCjc8h55qotSZ-uLo6NmqYJ45it9oWN3gV1kUaX2YWICCy1Ec" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1317" data-original-width="989" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIEXJZY_PzXARjNcT7xDaL68KSDQcuqD6AxxTO6dPG34ucHSaU0FcWkzPx7fuJmnU8XkY1QQ03Nnap1EGth17IMMi6EzKKuGErrcqyvaJDxwkf20wFvUvtdxRJg-UIizJXdxdvVXc0Q2vGCjc8h55qotSZ-uLo6NmqYJ45it9oWN3gV1kUaX2YWICCy1Ec" width="180" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-26621262279995128342020-07-10T19:15:00.001-04:002020-07-10T19:15:06.519-04:00Day 116 - Seeing“Are you seeing anyone?” asks my brother-in-law. <div><br></div><div>“Seeing anyone or <i>seeing</i> anyone? I don’t see <i>anyone</i>! Ever. At all.”</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-68267754309447065342020-07-09T21:41:00.001-04:002020-07-09T21:41:08.755-04:00Day 115 - The StandThe good thing about reading <i>The Stand</i> by Stephen King, which is about a disease that ravages the world, is that it makes our real government look downright competent. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-54070528536383551132020-07-08T08:05:00.001-04:002020-07-08T08:05:45.843-04:00Day 114 - Hot Chocolate<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I come home, my mom bakes cookies. On Day 114, hot chocolate cookies.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-23160921900972312852020-07-07T08:40:00.000-04:002020-07-07T08:40:57.674-04:00Day 113 - The Connecticut Campus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here's the Connecticut Campus of Northern Virginia Community College.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-81960905756665403852020-07-06T08:10:00.002-04:002020-07-06T08:10:46.734-04:00Day 112 - Tick<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday, I looked down while floating in the pool and saw a tiny tick had burrowed into my arm. I squeezed it out. Now I wait for the telltale bullseye . . .</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-39791749326761280942020-07-04T20:38:00.000-04:002020-07-04T20:38:48.137-04:00Day 111 - Best 4th Ever<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The 4th of July is my favorite holiday. Spending the anniversary of the birth of our country at 26 Columbus Avenue at the Salem Willows in Massachusetts with my family is sacred.<br>
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I can only recall one year of my life that I did not spend Independence Day there. 45/46 years I have been there, following the tradition of gathering with my extended family at my mother's childhood home. This year, with the death of my beloved Aunty Jane and the sale of the house, the tradition has ended.<br>
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This year, I miss the house on the cove. I miss the omnipresent red, white and blue, the bustle, the predictability. I miss the longest day of the year. I miss my family. I miss Aunty Jane and Uncle Jean Paul.</div>
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That one year that I didn't spend the 4th in Salem, I was in Guatemala for the entire summer, learning that in Spanish there is a version of the past tense that expresses something that happened habitually in the past. I had trouble switching to that tense yesterday while continuing my learning with my Guatemalan teacher via Skype. Often, my verb conjugation is just wrong. This time, I knew the right version, but I didn't care to switch to a past tense to say how we <i>used to</i> celebrate the 4th of July. I'm not ready to say that we used to do anything. </div>
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I'm more comfortable with the present tense. Here is what happens on the 4th of July.</div>
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It is a day of rituals. We leave Connecticut at dawn, bustling with anticipation to drive the three hours to my Aunty Jane and Uncle Jean Paul's house to arrive before 10 am, the start of the parade. We greet with hugs the dozens of family members from every generation who are milling in the front yard, slurping coffee (and maybe an early beer) while munching doughnuts and blueberry cake before the start of the Horribles parade during which assorted groups of boisterous neighbors wander-march down the street with makeshift costumes and floats celebrating and satirizing, tossing candy to children. Sometimes the house has a theme, and we costume ourselves to match the bunting festooning the porch and the clever cardboard decorations on the lawn. </div>
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After the parade, folks adjourn to sit and visit in the compact backyard and deck overlooking the cove where the tide will come in and out as the sun beats down. The sea salt perfumes the air. The people are the same every year. Most of the day is spent idly visiting with those people we only see once per year. <i>Happy 4th! What have you been up to? </i>Some things change. But not the important things. We age. With each passing year, young kids grow older until they run around after kids of their own. </div>
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My dad blasts off his impressive cannon from its perch on the sea wall every hour on the hour, startling the crowd with impressive booms. Little people muck in the marsh, trapping minnows. When the water is high, there is kayaking and swimming. At some point, groups meander through the quaint neighborhood that seems awash with red, white, and blue, walking down to the small amusement park a few blocks away for skeeball and arcade games. The carousel sings. There is a vicious air hockey tournament. We cash in tickets for trinkets.</div>
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The eating. So much eating. As the beer and soda supplies diminish, as our skin pinkens in the sun, we consume special treats until we bloat. Each of us has a favorite. At lunch, the bell rings, and soon plates are heaped with "vegetarian" sausages and peppers, mac and cheese, chips, salads. Chili. An entire separate table crammed with desserts. Rice Krispy treats. Chocolate peanut butter bars. The white-frosted cake dotted with blueberries and strawberries to resemble a flag. </div>
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And the popcorn. The popcorn from Hobbs, the green shingled stand with the round roof on the edge of the rocky beach, a place that has been there for much longer than I've been alive. The popcorn is infused with salt and yellow butter. We hunt for the yellowish pieces, knowing they are the tastiest. I buy a trash bag full of the world's most delicious popcorn to present to my mother for her to hide away in her freezer so that she can eke it out every once in awhile to taste the 4th of July all year round. </div>
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As night falls, fireworks. Sleepy, whining children. Tipsy adults. Final hugs.</div>
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"Best 4th ever," someone will announce each and every year as we part. Those words, too, are a tradition. "Best 4th ever." </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-47590058587540415582020-07-04T08:54:00.000-04:002020-07-04T08:54:20.931-04:00Day 110 - Cooking Shows<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been watching a lot of cooking shows with my mom. It's interesting to see the range of situations that each one presents, particularly since I've been cooking more since the start of the quarantine.<br />
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We watched Jacques Pepin layer a lasagna with soothing precision. It was so calming and educational. And we binged Season 2 of a series called <i>The Big Family Cooking Showdown </i>in which teams of three family members apiece are presented with various challenges in a limited amount of time. All of the hurry and tension in that show makes for a different mood. There's less emphasis on technique and more focus on the competitive aspect of producing a tasty meal. Plus, the added difficulty of coordinating with a group of people. I've never really cooked with other people so that makes for an interesting dimension. Finally, we've been watching a Netflix adaptation of Samin Nosrat's book <i>Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat</i>. Each element has a different episode dedicated to it. She transports viewers to foreign lands to investigate the influence of each. I feel as though I have traveled to Italy, Japan, and Mexico alongside her. The markets! The patient and unique approaches to producing tasty dishes! <br />
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The best part is sitting by my mom, hearing her commentary and reflection. It's wonderful to learn what she knows and what she is learning and appreciates.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-65913293431126606132020-07-03T20:59:00.001-04:002020-07-03T20:59:22.362-04:00Day 109 - BuildingThis was the day I entered an establishment for the first time since March. Weird. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-51220364113035899852020-07-02T10:04:00.000-04:002020-07-02T10:04:05.528-04:00Day 108 - DinnerSince lockdown began, one hundred and eight days ago, I have been keeping track of the days in my black and white composition notebook. Each day I sit down and write the date, the number of that day, and my schedule. <div><br /></div><div>Since I've arrived in Connecticut, I haven't done that even once. I haven't written in my journal. I haven't listened to my playlist. I've just relaxed. It's nice.</div><div><br /></div><div>On Day 108, my mom let me make dinner for her and my dad--red pepper harissa soup and scallion sour cream biscuits. It was weird to be in a different kitchen, but nice to feed them. How strange and gratifying to make food and share it immediately after so many months of cooking for myself.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-37205476323079927012020-07-01T20:30:00.001-04:002020-07-01T20:30:23.137-04:00Day 107 - Lazy It’s hard to believe that I was ever an overachiever in high school because now when I come to my childhood home, all I want to do is sleep and eat and lounge. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-56197965528527055992020-06-30T20:04:00.000-04:002020-06-30T20:04:08.980-04:00Day 106 - CakeHow many slices of leftover birthday cake is it socially acceptable to eat per day? Unclear, but I’m pushing the envelope. Wouldn’t want it to go stale! Cake eaten with fingers while floating in the pool is divine. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-44465476345044623332020-06-29T19:30:00.001-04:002020-06-29T19:31:16.065-04:00Day 105 - My Birthday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was a sparkling, perfect sunny day. I floated in the pool for hours while visiting with my sisters and nephew. I opened a mound of presents and cards from my parents and friends. I ate a delicious homemade meal made by my mom and had dinner with my parents. And my mom made me cake. What a cake!</div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on" style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1fSUNhXYk1dn28AFyzJ5HY7JFySsLAZyp" alt="https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1fSUNhXYk1dn28AFyzJ5HY7JFySsLAZyp" style="max-height: 80%; max-width: 80%; height: auto; width: auto;"><br></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-9031099113351630862020-06-29T01:00:00.001-04:002020-06-29T01:00:57.760-04:00Day 104 - A DriveSix hours and 2 pees after leaving my house in Virginia, I arrived and got to hug my mom and dad! Hooray!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-73836041215232563532020-06-26T12:01:00.000-04:002020-06-26T12:01:03.151-04:00Day 103 - NegativeMy test from Monday came back. I am negative for COVID-19. Off I go to Connecticut tomorrow!<div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-30063634199564662742020-06-26T12:00:00.000-04:002020-06-26T12:00:06.246-04:00Day 102 - Workbook<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last year when I studied Spanish in the lush gardens of a school in Antigua, Guatemala, I insisted on conversational practice; I steadfastly refused to study grammar. I was kind of a brat about it, looking back, but I really just wanted to increase my fluency so that I could travel comfortably for the rest of my sabbatical. I sat across from my teacher and laughed and laughed with them, chatting for hours. We had a great time, but I certainly didn't perfect my verb tenses. Still, I was effectively launched into my 3 month Latin American journey. My Spanish got me by.<div>
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During my twice per week Spanish lessons this summer, my initial goal was different: kill time. Here I am in Alexandria, Virginia for the summer in my little apartment. Stranded. I thought I was going to have slow dripping hours to fill. It turns out that between teaching and tutoring, I've been well-occupied--even busy. There are even times I have wished for a day off. </div>
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For the first couple of weeks of my summer lessons, I caught up with my Spanish teachers. On Thursdays, I meet with Elba, a smiling sprite of a teacher I first studied with 18 years ago. On Fridays, my teacher is Carmen, a raucous and sweet grandmother who greets me each week by proclaiming, "Mi amor! Mi vida!" We traded quarantine stories, and I learned lots of new pandemic-related vocabulary. Our lessons are two hours long, and I was exhausted by the time 5 pm came. </div>
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As the weeks progressed, I started to get frustrated by the frequency of the corrections of my verbs. One day, I declared, I want to start from the beginning. I decided to embrace the grammar rather than resist it. So I ordered up a workbook, a thick one, the kind you buy with dread on the first day of Spanish class in college. But I actually felt a little thrill when it arrived. </div>
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Last year. it would have felt like <i>tortura </i>to sit still and fill in the blanks on stem-changing present tense verbs, but now it feels oddly soothing, the way people describe feeling while doing adult coloring books or needlepoint. I sit upright at the table like a dutiful schoolgirl. I even use a pencil. I never write in pencil. The time passes smoothly as I focus all of my attention on the logical rules of grammar. I might not <i>remember </i>the rules, but they exist. There is a right way to do it. There is an answer. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-74779663302765715412020-06-25T20:32:00.000-04:002020-06-25T20:32:03.851-04:00Day 101 - Two Walks/DayI'm trying to initiate a two walks/day plan--one early, one late. I worry about the fall when the days start to shrink and my mood falls along with it. Actually, now that the summer solstice has passed, the light has technically already started to fade, though it is currently 8:27 pm, and the sun has not set yet. Walking is good medicine. I want to be prepared.<div><br /></div><div>I still don't move enough during the day. It's hard to accumulate a lot of steps walking from the dining room to the kitchen to the bathroom to the office. Maybe I should be walking around the block every hour, too. Being sedentary is no good.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5078042888707202133.post-10928113880671811372020-06-24T11:53:00.002-04:002020-06-24T11:53:57.996-04:00Day 100I made it!<div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1PtjDvxgGE-v7ra6GVxQGUmraUbwfmY10" height="320" src="https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1PtjDvxgGE-v7ra6GVxQGUmraUbwfmY10" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-height: 80%; max-width: 80%; width: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0