Rowing Grand

Old Friends

2011-03-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

Last month we went on a cruise to Nassau. "We" are a gang of women who have been friends since we were 1 year old, more or less. One was a late-comer, showing up in our lives around first grade. This cruise was a celebration of our 60th birthdays, which we will all celebrate in 2011. The photo is out of focus, thankfully -- an old Hollywood trick to disguise wrinkles! The waitress who took the photo probably didn't know that, tho.

Two of the gals in the photo are sisters whom we were thrilled to have along. Left front: Jill, Sherrylou, Holly, Sherry (June's sister) and the back row is Kimberly, Leigh (mine) and June. the Magnificent Seven. I don't think we have laughed so hard in forty years. Old friends -- we know each other's mother's maiden names! We can close our eyes and walk all the way through each other's houses, through the attics even! We know exactly what the others' Christmas mornings consisted of. We know our fears and our strengths, and we know exactly where each came from. We can walk through our yards, we can describe the climbing trees. We can see the huge granite rocks we played on by the water, each crevass we jumped, the "horse" rock. We knew all the parents' sleeping styles, from separate bedrooms to double beds to two twins pushed together, to a king. We never really knew what the Dads did, but we knew the moms like they were our own. All but one of the moms is gone now. When we turned 50, we went to visit one of them, rang her bell and then yelled "TRICK OR TREAT!!!" and she said "Oh for god's sake, when are you girls gonna GROW UP!!??" Man it was funny!

Sherrylou was the first to turn 60, which happened on the ship. We had a great party at the table, with party favors and wonderful little gifts for everyone. Remember the toy that was a cardboard guy and you used a magnet to move iron filings around to make a beard, or hair? We had masks and whistles and those blower thingies...we probably looked like fools, but we preferred to believe everyone was envious. There was chocolate from Stowaway Sweets in Marblehead; there were ornaments and bags full of penny candy like when we were little. There was a fabulous journal, each one containing photos and mementos from childhood.

The Magnificent Seven have endured so much in our lives. Divorces, infant death, murder and a disappearance. We have held each other and cried until our hearts would break, and we have laughed until our sides hurt so bad. We all carry baggage, and we all know where that baggage came from. How lucky are we, to have a whole team who knows us and loves us through tragedy and joy. It don' get no bettah.

Our Mini Amazing Race

2010-07-01T19:43:00.000-07:00

Two photos from our Mini Amazing Race, called the Citychase. These races are held all over the world, sponsored by Tmobile and Blackberry. My friend C and I had an absolute blast! There were about 600 participants, and I was impressed with how the clue sheets were handed out. Instead of making us all line up for a copy, they announced a list of scavenger hunt items we had to bring back in order to receive our clue sheet. Fortunately for us, the start was directly across the street from my sister's condo, so we just zoomed up there and picked up everything we needed! Still, even with that auspicious beginning, we found ourselves falling quickly behind many other teams. Each clue had a time-consuming challenge attached to be completed before moving on to the next. On our very first challenge, C had to accost a total stranger and ask him to kiss her, to exchange shirts with her, and to do a cheer she would teach him, all while I photographed it with a Blackberry loaned to the challengers. Done, and with a VERY willing stranger I might add, upon re-reading the instructions I saw I was supposed to video them, not still photograph them. The stranger was quite game (C is gorgeous!) and did it all a second time while I tried to figure out the stupid Blackberry! It was hilarious. The next challenge was to kayak down the Confluence, over rocks! C had never been in a kayak but we totally rocked it and headed to the next, pictured above on the right. Yes, we had to ride a mechanical bull! C rolled a pair of dice and we had to stay on for as many seconds as she rolled. Lucky for us she rolled a 6; unlucky for me I went first; lucky for C I stayed on for FIVE WHOLE SECONDS!!! I begged the guy to set the speed for Senior Division but he said he couldn't. Fortunately the bull was surrounded by a giant air mattress, so when I fell off I didn't break a hip! Ha ha!!

We didn't finish all ten challenges, but we had a great time and would do it again in a New York minute!!!

Pueblo Lake State Park

2010-05-29T19:56:00.000-07:00

We just spent two nights camping at Pueblo Lake. As you can see by the photos, it is plains camping; a very far cry from mountain camping! The terrain is almost pure clay, which, when wet, sticks to everything and sucks your feet down into it, making mounting the shell a real challenge. You can see our "private" beach, but a view of the whole lake really doesn't translate well into these tiny photos -- it is HUGE, and the week before Memorial Day almost completely devoid of other boaters! That made this novice sculler very happy, as I always worry about crashing into someone, or being crashed into by someone who can't see my narrow, silver boat.

This was only the second time we'd gone tent camping in probably 15 years. We (actually, I) used to make it all so complicated; trying to be green, I'd bring real plates and cups, and would have to wash dishes after every meal. Burgers, steaks, side dishes -- those, along with the real plates, went by the wayside. Our menu the first night was boneless chicken breasts grilled at home, and a bag of frozen veggies and rice. We put it all in a pot of boiling water to heat it up, (the chicken in a ziplock) and it was delish! (Next time we'll bring a steamer basket and won't have to use so much fuel boiling the water). Of course s'mores for dessert, but instead of the Hershey bar that never melts, we used Nutella -- yum!

Breakfast was equally easy -- bacon cooked at home (who can deal with all that bacon fat when you're camping??!), scrambled eggs, cheese all in a whole wheat wrap. Lunch was sandwiches made with those same wraps (so much easier than packing bread, which always seems to get squished). Fruit for snacks. We went to the marina one afternoon for ice cream.

The tent campsites were deserted except for one other tent. The RV sites had a few more people in them, but were far away from us. The silence at night was profound, and the birds in the morning were too numerous to count! When I woke up at 5 and stuck my head out of the tent, I couldn't believe how beautiful that water was, and was thrilled to get on my shell after so many weeks without rowing. A bit out of shape from winter, I only lasted about 45 minutes. Later in the day, when there was too much wind for rowing, I took the kayak out -- that thing is so stable and so much fun to paddle around in! Where the shell is a shark, the kayak is a flounder, but it gets me where I want to go. No matter what vehicle I choose, on the water is the best place in the world.

2010-04-28T18:55:00.000-07:00

Religion

2010-04-28T18:14:00.000-07:00

I don't pretend to know anything whatsoever about the religions in India. As a matter of fact, I really wish I'd read up on them in order to understand the people better. But a couple of things stood out. Please know that I am only writing about what I experienced -- I am not generalizing about the religions or the religious people themselves.

The Sikhs were the least likely to swarm us or to cheat us (as far as we could tell). They were serene and elegant. Amritsar is their spiritual center, where the Golden Palace is located. In order to enter the grounds, you must remove your shoes, wash your hands and feet, and cover your hair (both men and women). Once inside the temple (after a long wait in line) there were seven or eight maharajis chanting prayers inside a small, beautiful and very hot room. Visitors would simply sit themselves down anywhere (including in line) and start chanting with the maharajis, which was a little disconcerting. One woman was scolded by a guard when her headscarf slipped off.

The Taj Mahal is a Muslim mausoleum, but of course is visited by people of all walks of life. We heard the Muslim call to prayer while we were there, but did not see anyone step out of line to pray. As a matter of fact, there were "line police" specifically there to keep people from mobbing the crypt.

Several times when money was exchanged, whether in a rickshaw, buying bananas at an outdoor market, or paying our hotel bill, we saw the recipient gently waving the money in front of an icon, bowing, and moving his hands in some way, giving thanks for the blessing of having made a sale, I imagine. Many many businesses had incense burning in front of a painting of a god or goddess. Even some rickshaws had a tiny makeshift altar with incense burning!

In McLeod Ganj, where the Dalai Lama resides, was a Buddhist temple where several gods were depicted in statues or paintings. The altars had offerings laid on them, mostly boxes of foods such as Oreos, Ritz crackers, Chips Ahoy. Personally, that detracted a great deal from the solemnity of a religious altar, but being an athiest myself, I simply thought it lacked decorum. Believers would prostrate themselves in front of these altars, so we had to avoid stepping on them as we passed. There was a sign upon entering the temple warning us to watch that our shoes don't get stolen. Hmmmm, how do we do that?

The People

2010-04-26T14:15:00.000-07:00

We flew to India on Etihad Airways, the national airline of Abu Dabi. Besides our plane being delayed in Chicago for 24 hours, it was a nice flight. On the TV screen were a million choices of entertainment but when that all got old, I would leave the map on. Slightly different from other airlines, this one showed the time, temperature, miles flown, miles remaining, and miles to Mecca. Before takeoff and landing a prayer was spoken in Arabic and not translated. (I know this because my seatmate was Arab/American and he told me).

I got an Ayurvedic massage from a very old woman in Varkala. She spoke no English but laughed a lot; strongest arms in the world and a great massage--VERY different from any I've had here -- no partial coverage with a sheet, no body part left un-massaged. It started with me sitting in the buff on a stool, and the masseuse pouring several ounces of oil on my head. Took quite a few tepid showers to get all the oil off!!!!

Waiters were a trip. I believe every restaurant we went to had only one burner in their kitchen, because every meal came out one at a time. If there were six of us, waiters gave us 3 menus; if there were three, they gave us one. In one breakfast place (very western-looking, imitation Starbucks) the waiter took our order, left and came back with a half liter of milk, brought our coffees. Left again, came back with two yogurts (which Mags and I had ordered). Brought our yogurt, muesli and fruit; left again and came back with bananas for Michael's porridge. The whole shindig took 35 minutes; no, not to eat; to just get served!

At every train station we were swarmed by taxi drivers, touts and beggars. In the very first moment after meeting up with Maggie I was getting into the taxi and shutting my door when I saw this hand reaching in! I looked down to see a man with no legs, whom I almost killed with the taxi door! (In most of the towns, at the train stations there is a little booth staffed with a police officer whose job it is to find out where you want to go; then he tells you how much the taxi costs, you pay him and he gives you a voucher. This is for the traveller's protection from getting ripped off by the taxi driver. Twice Maggie paid the policeman with a 100 ruppee bill, took her eyes away for a nanosecond, and there was the policeman with a 50, claiming that was what she gave him. So much for protecting the well-being of the traveller!!) Once, I got so frustrated with the gang swarming us that I just yelled out "WHY do we have to have 12 people around us every time we want to do anything??!!" and a tall, handsome, elegant man dressed in the white tunic and white pants, with the embroidered pill-box hat and a beautifully trimmed gray beard, said, "Madame?! This is India!!" Of course I had to laugh. Yes, that is definitely India.

Shopping In India

2010-04-15T16:10:00.000-07:00

Shopping in India was a trip in itself! No one would give us a firm price, of course, so all our time was spent drinking chai and trying to agree on a price for whatever little goodie we were trying to acquire. Most prices started at least twice as high as what would be considered even ballpark. The first couple of weeks, this pastime was kind of fun, but after a while it just plain got stupid. Instead of telling us a price, the vendor would pretend to figure out the very best price and show it to us on his calculator. I never figured out why he would do that, so I finally pretended I couldn't see it and he would have to tell me out loud how much he'd come up with.

One of the most interesting vendors we saw we didn't snap a photo of -- it just seemed too invasive for some reason. He was an ancient old man sitting on the road surrounded by a sundry assortment of empty bottles he'd found -- a liter of Smirnoff, a ketsup bottle...He had a plastic bucket with a honeycomb in it, and was filling these found bottles with honey and selling it. No, I didn't buy any, if you were wondering.

We went into a ginger factory. There was a large courtyard completely full of drying ginger. Inside an unlit, windowless room were two women standing next to a shoulder-high mountain of ginger, shaking a screen box full of the stuff; the air was full of tiny pieces of flying ginger, which made our photos come out with strange star-like spots on them. Of course they asked for money after we snapped photos, which we were happy to give them.

In Delhi we stayed in Pahar Ganj, a wholesale neighborhood where people from all over India come to sell their wares to reps from the tourist shops. They had rock bottom prices, but of course I'd already fallen for the silk sari in a totally tourist ripoff store, and had bought plenty of scarves. I fell in love with a bangle bracelet but was required to buy 12 due to it being wholesale. We went to another wholesale district, Sadar, where yarns and threads were sold to weavers; that was quite a learning experience, as there was no real wool, cashmere, linen or silk yarn to be found anywhere, even with an escort from one yarn shop taking us through the labyrinth of dead end alleys full of other yarn and thread wholesalers. We were educated by a vendor who said all the silk products (scarves, shawls, etc) in India were actually made from "authentic imitation silk." It is a viscose rayon, spun into a fine yarn and woven by hand (mostly) into these sumptuous items. It is a beautiful fabric, and the yarns hold dye marvelously, but, alas, it is not silk. Too bad we learned about this on our last day!

Animals in India

2010-04-10T19:34:00.000-07:00

(First I must apologize for the sideways photo of the goats above. It was straight when I uploaded it but has gone whacky on me and I can't seem to fix it).

The animals in India have their own jobs to do. Working elephants move tourists, move lumber, move rocks. They are true laborers. We were thrilled to have the Auntie Mame experience of riding one, but felt at the same time the cruel exploitation of these magnificent beasts. The goats and cows on the streets also have their jobs. They are the garbage eaters, and can be found on every block in diligent employ. Trash is handled, in the small towns we were in, by first the livestock and only later by humans, who sweep it into piles and burn it. There is always the smell of burning trash, wherever you go. In Delhi I did see a government garbage truck, but only one, and it didn't make a dent. The "trash" created by the cows is collected and dried in the sun, to be used later for cooking fuel. Garbage in, garbage out.

India!

2010-03-21T04:10:00.000-07:00

I will not have much time to write today, but wanted to let my friends know that after 55 hours of travel we made it to India. The plane in Chicago got stuck with technical problems, and after sitting there for almost 5 hours we were sent to hotels and started the journey 22 hours later.
We flew through Abu Dhabi which was an amazing sight from the air -- flying over gorgeous blue ocean and suddenly seeing nothing but sand for as far as the eye could see. Pretty airport, but out in the middle of nowhere!
We arrived in Trivandrum at 5 AM to find thousands of people outside the airport -- taxi drivers, families awaiting arrivals...seriously thousands of people there, and there was my 6 foot tall Maggie, standing above everyone else, smiling and waving like crazy! What a wonderful sight!
We hopped into a taxi to the train station -- also crowded and bustling with life at that hour on a Sunday morning. The train was a decrepit old thing but went really fast nonetheless. We got off in Varkala and grabbed a tuk tuk, which is basically a three wheeled cycle with a roof and a back seat, powered by a lawn mover engine. Thankfully, I couldn't really see the road as the driver went zooming around town to our hotel. We are in the Santa Claus hotel, on a cliff overlooking the ocean. It has a/c and a private bath, which is a little room with a miniature sink, toilet, and shower all together so everything gets wet when you take a shower. We are very very happy to have it!
The beach is below a long long flight of uneven cement stairs. The cliff is basically where everyone throws their trash, which is pretty much what I expected in India. The water is deliciously warm but with huge waves and a vicious undertow. We rented lounge chairs and umbrellas, and many mangy dogs came to enjoy the shade under our chairs. When it got too hot even for them, they sauntered off to take a dip in the ocean -- I've never seen a dog do that before!!
Along the walkway at the top of the cliff, where our hotel is, are dozens of little shops, restaurants, and tiny hotels like ours. Really really cute little strip, with a view that knocks your socks off. Of course I am looking at all the goodies for sale and not looking at the ocean! Silly me.
Off to dinner soon, and then hopefully a long and luscious night's sleep!

Packing

2010-03-17T18:26:00.000-07:00

Oh I used to be such a good packer!!! It was so easy, back in the day. Then I started cruising, or worse, started travelling to diverse locations -- some hot, some cold, some rainy; all on the same trip. And of course when I go back to Pamplona I have to look nice, so there's a problem right there!

This India trip is different. First of all, it is going to be hot hot hot, so I don't need a bunch of stuff for cold weather. And Indians are so colorful, everything goes with everything! And clothes are so cheap there, I can buy whatever I want. Therefore, I have packed 3 bottoms and 5 tops. Amazing! Still, there is the huge problem of the electronics.

Charger for the phone, charger for the iPod Touch, charger for the camera. Plugs for the chargers, and converters. Cable to attach the Touch to a computer. Plug that fits the airplane seat in case it has two holes instead of one for my headset.

There are no fewer than six books loaded onto my Touch. I LOVE it!! I don't need to turn on a light in order to read, and I don't need to carry a ton of books. What a great little toy! My headphones have a microphone, and I've downloaded Skype, so I can use it to call people even tho it's not an iPhone. Genius. Worse - I can buy episodes of the shows I am addicted to for only $1.99, so I won't miss anything. That is pathetic, I know.

So, back to packing: we have decided to travel with backpacks, on the advice of many friends who have travelled in India. Even though I have so few clothes, I have so much other crap that the pack weighs 20 lbs and has very little room for purchases! All soft items are in oversized ziplock baggies with all the air squeezed out, and I'm only bringing two pairs of shoes, so I need to see if there's anything I can jettison. A lot of hard stuff like hand sanitizer, sunscreen, bug spray, and aforementioned electronics -- they take up a lot of room! Yes, of course I know I can buy all that over there, but then I'd still need to have space to pack it when we move from town to town.

Wish me luck. What a fabulous adventure ahead!

2010-03-14T20:28:00.000-07:00

2010-03-14T20:27:00.000-07:00

Oscars 2010

2010-03-10T16:29:00.000-08:00

Our annual Oscar party was a great success! I am pretty sure I have the best guest list in all the land. My peeps really come through in their enthusiasm and imagination. This is not the easiest party in the world to host, so I need all the help I can get from my peeps.

The first Oscar party we threw was in 2002, one year after Bjork wore that crazy swan dress, remember? I wore an evening gown but created a swan apron out of fuzzy fabric and it cracked everyone up. That was when I got the idea of having guests dress like characters from one of the current movies. They could also dress as "seat fillers" in tuxes and evening gowns. I can't tell you how wonderful it is to see the husbands all decked out in finery -- so rare in the life we live here in suburbia. I was Coco before Chanel but it was pretty dorky.

Oscar is a gold styrofoam wig head who plays a key role as centerpiece on the buffet. The year of The Aviator he wore a leather flight helmet, goggles, and a white scarf. Last year I found this crazy curly beige yarn and made The Wrestler's wig, with a white towel around his neck. Of course I forget to take photos; as the hostess I am pretty busy and just never seem to remember. We started collecting Hollywood memorabilia and now have a good supply of decorations. Also for The Aviator we lined up a dozen jars of apple juice around the TV but no one got it until the show was half over.

Last year was the first time we asked for pot luck additions. We created a prize category of how well the food matched a movie. The winner (by vote) was Benjamin Button Stuffed Mushrooms. My guests are just so creative!! Of course I made Vicky Christina Barcelona paella. This year we had three guests dressed as Julia Child (and one as Julie) and I made Julia's boef bourguignon. One guest, dressed in a business suit and dragging a rolling carry-on, made boxes of Up in the Airplane snacks, all packaged perfectly in individually wrapped cellophane bags, all hand-made by her. Amazing. Still, she didn't win the food category because another guest came up with Hurt Locker MRE brownie bombs!! She made these killer brownies and wrapped each one in a tinfoil packet with a PERFECT MRE label on the front!!! Amazing. We also had Up in the Airport pizza, Avatar blue jello salad, Crazy Heart enchiladas, and Basterds strudel. Are my guests great or what??

My Cat

2010-02-22T19:48:00.000-08:00

In my very first post I mention being owned by a cat, the world's most unsatisfactory cat to be exact. George (whose original name was Giorgio, after a rather flamboyant entertainer in Mazatlan) is now 17 years old and a marvel of perseverance. This cat is the Original Scaredy Cat. My sister has only seen him a handful of times. The second anyone comes through the front door, this cat is downstairs in the basement in some hidey-hole I've never found, where he stays until the All Clear. He is difficult to love. We make fun of him and what a stupid pet he has been all these years.

For some reason we have switched from dry food to canned, and he has gone crazy-in-love with the canned food. He eats non-stop, and fills his litter box with the results. However, he is skinny as can be -- petting him is like petting a cat skeleton wearing an old toupee -- so I think he isn't long for this world. He has become very affectionate with me in the past couple of years, but still jumps off my lap and runs if I sneeze or move quickly. And now, well, now we are leaving for three weeks and I am worried about him! We used to have a neighbor kid come in to feed him. She has never actually seen him of course, but knew he existed because the food would go down and the litter box would fill up. But she doesn't want to be responsible for him anymore; he really could croak any time now. And now, I'm worried about him being alone for three weeks. Funny, after all these years of him being such a dumb pet, so detached, now I feel a great deal of affection for him. He is very good at being alone, but since becoming so attached to me lately, maybe he won't do as well this time. Poor Georgie.

Senior Tennis

2010-02-18T04:35:00.001-08:00

I have been playing tennis for a couple of years with the senior breakfast league (mixed doubles). Although you have to belong to the USTA to join, they don't count your wins/losses towards your ranking. I have made two friends on the league who are really neat people, and the rest are quite nice, mostly. To join senior tennis you can be as young as 49. Most of these guys are in their 60's, I'd say. Every season the captains get new teams; no one really wants to captain so once you are sucked into that, you're basically stuck. My captain last summer was really out to win, so once she asked me not to play in order to bring in a ringer. That tells you a couple things; I'm not the best player of the bunch, and it can all get pretty cutthroat.

My captain usually figures out early on that I need to be paired with someone who actually moves; my feet have been glued to the court since I started playing back when I was 42. My partner has to cover about 80% of the court, and then s/he has to be able to actually DO something with the ball once he/she gets to it. I tell my partners I am just the eye candy. Last Tuesday I was paired with the 88 year old (we all take turns). Our opponents were both 79. Since I am such a crappy player, I have developed a nasty drop shot that my 40 year old friends can get to, but the seniors sitting on the baseline cannot. You could call it the original "cheap shot." I feel bad using it against older opponents, but hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. We won our match, and my partner put his arm around my shoulder and said "that's the first match I've won in three years!" Then he said something that, after I laughed out loud, I contemplated for a long time. He said, "You run like the wind!" (Cracks me up just typing that line!!) But you see, it's all in our perception. To an 88 year old, I run like the wind. To others, I am a slug. So, will the real Holly please stand up?

More About Change

2010-02-12T21:03:00.000-08:00

I wrote this essay a couple years ago for a writing class. The assignment was to write about changes. Some of it I've already told in this blog; thanks for your patience with me.

I went to Spain when I was 18. I was going to college in Pamplona, it was 1970 and Franco was still alive. Spain in 1970 was like America in the fifties, and Pamplona even more so. After a couple of years there, I decided it was time to run with the bulls during their fiesta. Of course women weren’t allowed to run, so I disguised myself as best I could and popped out in front of the bulls at the last minute. After it was over, I let my long hair out of my cap and a guy said to me “you’ve got balls” and I said, “more than you, kiddo, more than you.”

I tell this story a lot. Boomers my age usually say something like “wow, you are so cool!” and the kids my kids’ age say “wow, you were so cool!” and it is that were that scratches against my psyche like an old wool sweater. ‘Whaddaya mean, were?’ I silently demand.

I have a lot of stories like that one. In my twenties I led a life of adventure, though you wouldn’t know it to look at me. And there’s the rub. Who is this person who has taken over Holly? What happened when I wasn’t looking? I keep the light kind of dim in my bathroom, but occasionally I see myself in good lighting and really, I am always surprised at who is looking back at me. Why, it’s my great Aunt Genevieve! When did my skin stop fitting me?

We baby boomers are a self-centered bunch. How could we not be? The media and advertising have catered to us for the past 40 years. Suddenly we are no longer the darlings, and it is no longer a surprise when we see the toys we grew up with on display in a museum. My original Barbie doll, they say, is worth a thousand bucks, but there she sits, tossed on a shelf in my closet, just as she was five decades ago, as if I were going to pull her down and play with her any minute.

I visited a historic building in my hometown last year. It houses the original Spirit of ’76 painting, the one with the two drummers and the fife player, marching to war. There are a lot of seafaring objects from when Marblehead was dependent upon fishermen and whalers for its livelihood. There, in one of the cases was a photograph of a Girl Scout troop visiting Washington, DC, and it was a picture of MY troop, and there I was. I am now officially a Museum Artifact.

There are moments when I do not see the humor in any of this. Almost mourning the loss of the young woman who was Holly, I am stunned to realize I have friends who have never seen me without glasses, or without these thighs! I remember turning heads as I strutted down the street in a miniskirt, as if I owned the world. I was tall and thin and young; I did.

A young friend saw the movie Titanic and we talked about it. I asked him if he can now look at old ladies in a different light, with stories and the possibility that maybe, long ago, they were beautiful. He looked at me quizzically for a second, but then said “Yeah. Yeah, I think I can.” Looking at people we so easily judge, pass them off as middle aged or old, and see only age, nothing more. As if that person were born the age they are as we are looking at them. The charm of people is the history they have, but more than that, it is the person they see within themselves.

I went back to Pamplona again; met up with my daughter there, the one who looks like me, the one who loves my stories. She had spent the month of June backpacking through Europe. She is following in her mom’s path, only better. There in the plaza we met up with a dear friend, one of the most well-respected and well-known runners, who threw his arms around me in a giant hug, looked over my shoulder and saw my daughter. “I was SO in love with your mother!” he said. He had never met her, but there she was, standing in my town, with my face, which he knew and loved, at twenty.

Anticipation

2010-01-27T10:53:00.000-08:00

When I was in the sixth grade I was given a box of flashcards of the Wonders of the World. When I saw the picture of the Taj Mahal, I promised myself I would go there one day. Almost a half-century later, I will be standing in front of the Taj Mahal! This upcoming trip is both exciting and frightening. 26 hours on an airplane, and I anticipate that to be pretty much hell. But the countryside of India, the beaches, the national parks with their fabulous tigers and elephants, the bazaars and the food -- all of that will make for an exciting adventure! The crowds, the poverty, the dirt, the traffic -- not so much.

Anticipation. In my recent weight-loss attempt, I anticipated that in 12 weeks I would lose at least 20 pounds, but it didn't work out that way. I did lose 10, however, through Thanksgiving, a cruise, a Florida vacation, my birthday, Christmas and New Years. I can't complain, since I did so little exercise throughout that time that to lose any weight at all is practically a miracle. Another 12 week program starts this week, with new participants and several from the previous group. Maybe I will get psyched to actually exercise! I have been hiking with a 20 pound pack, in anticipation of the India trip; I do NOT want to be the fat old lady who slows everyone down!!

Cruisin'

2009-12-14T07:47:00.000-08:00

Dec 5 2009

Sitting on the deck of the Norwegian Jewel in the sunshine, heading for the Caribbean. Decided to get a tan for the first time in more than 20 years. I lasted about 5 minutes before the stern voice of my dermatologist started booming in my head. Waiting for Michael to bring the sunscreen I’d left in the stateroom felt like spending time on death row. I felt like I was totally living on the edge. Out in the sun with no sunscreen?? Good god, woman, what were you thinking?? 20 minutes with my face turned toward the sun and my whole life flashed before me! When Michael finally arrived and I slapped gobs of the white stuff all over me as fast as I could, I felt a sense of reprieve, like an eight year old who’s been given 10 hail marys and 10 our fathers as penance for the sins she invented in the first place to appease the priest in Saturday afternoon confession.

Dinner companions last night were a motley crew made up of people from 4 corners of the US. The couple from Utah were easily pegged by the plastic refill cups of soda they carried to the table. I don’t usually use names in my blog, but theirs was Elder, which cracked me up when they talked about completing their missions – Elder Elder. I accused them of making that up, so of course they had to show me their IDs. The couple from N Carolina had a gregarious outgoing wife and almost completely mute husband.
Rounding out the table was the couple from Connecticut, who made polite conversation and left early to catch a show.

I have so much fun people-watching on cruises! There are the couples who look like birders – the ones wearing matching outback hats and REI shirts, Tevas and a weathered, almost haunted look about the eyes. There are the super-fit, who spend their time vigorously working out, jogging, or race-walking in a desperate attempt to keep the buffet from winning. The look-alikes are next, the ones who have obviously given up all pretense of good health and youth, who have identical round bodies and are invariably found sitting down. But surely my favorites are the dancers – the ones who spend much of their free time perfecting their moves on the floor like Astaire and Rogers. Man I love to watch them! There is one couple who have to be in their 70’s who are in great shape if a little beefy, but who dance like there’s no tomorrow, with smiles on their faces and a quiet and subtle joy of movement, and most importantly, of moving together. They are the ones I could watch all day.

Dec 8
Roatan, an island belonging to and 40 miles off the coast of Honduras, gives the impression that the relaxed and laid-back people have been hit by a hurricane of epic proportions. It is as if these cruise ships, a rather recent addition to their economy, were spewing out money and everyone wants to scramble for “theirs.” The new dock, likely built by Norwegian Cruise Lines (NCL) is the most elegant thing in town, and we were greeted by costumed drummers and dancers waiting to have us take photos with them (for a price, of course). We were bombarded by dozens of van and taxi drivers all wanting to take us around this little island, shouting and shoving maps into our hands. We walked about 50 yards away from the crowd and were trying to decide what to do when an old guy in the most dilapidated van, held together by baling wire and spit, offered us a two hour tour for $30. We didn’t even haggle – just decided to hop into the back seat and hold on! Once inside, I thought oh boy – this guy can just take us to the jungle, rob us and chop us up with a machete and no one would be the wiser. But of course he turned out to be a great guy and we had a fun time. He took us to a sleepy little town on the other side, away from the hotel zone, where everyone had hammocks on their porches and the potholes slowed down traffic long enough to enjoy the incredible turquoise waters and to see the wares for sale in front of the little shops. Our driver, Luel, showed us where all the millionaires live; shipping company owners, mahogany exporters, politicians. He pointed out a couple of hulking shipwrecks, burned out freighters just left in the water for the ocean to take care of. In the viewing turnoffs were several women with small children selling hand made bracelets and other native goodies. They swarmed the van, sticking their hands in the windows dangling their wares. Apart from all the others, by herself, was one tiny girl with a dried seahorse for sale; I will regret forever the way I ignored her. I find it difficult to know how to handle this type of situation, when the answer always lies in simply acknowledging another human being. I find myself trying to look past them as if they weren’t there, because to look them in the eye encourages them and makes them try even harder. But this darling child – I could have handled that better. I speak Spanish, for goodness sake; even if I didn’t buy her stupid seahorse I could have said something to acknowledge her existence. This is gonna haunt me. I’ll do better next time.

We ended up spending three hours with Luel and enjoyed every minute. Of course he took us to a tiny market area with more native goods for sale, where I bought grandbaby Claire a little black rag doll. It was fun speaking to the lady vendor, who had her daughter and granddaughter there with her. That common bond of oohing and aahing over grandbabies – that is a great culture barrier remover! On the way back down the hill we went by the spot where the little sea-horse vendor had been but she was no longer there. Luel told us she lives right there and probably just went home. Although 60,000 people live on Roatan, all the native families know each other. Luel said there is a large population of Hondurans who come to the island looking for work.

Back in town we walked the main street – typical latin chaos, tiny basement storefronts selling plastic flip flops and soccer shirts, some overripe bananas and jewelry made of coconut shells. Of course we found an internet office. While Michael checked his email I chatted with the employee, who told me her daughter is super intelligent and therefore goes to private school. She wants to be a doctor, of course, but the mom said there’s no money for that education. When I asked about scholarships, she said they only go to kids from public schools – a real catch 22 as far as I can tell. The daughter was there at the time and I learned that their school year runs from February through November; she was on school break and hanging out with mom for a bit, bringing her lunch.

Dinner this time was with one other couple – New Yorkers who were very personable. The type of people who are willing to share a dinner table on a cruise ship are invariably personable and gregarious – people who aren’t that way, don’t eat with strangers!
The after dinner show was a ventriloquist with a female Jamaican dummy and was quite funny.

Dec 9 Belize

Amazing day!! We were tendered into Belize, probably due to the coral reef stretching along the entire coast. Easily a 20 minute ride to shore, maybe 4 miles or so. I would have liked seeing the anchors dropped, but on this huge ship there is no viewing area for that kind of maneuver. Anyway, once in Belize City we were bused to a park about an hour away. Our guide, Derek, was very entertaining and funny, which made the ride pass quickly. Belize is flat as Florida, with some mountains of maybe 800 feet in height off in the distance. We passed a few well-to-do properties, but mostly tiny groups of cinderblock homes up on stilts. Belize City has several schools and one university, all very small, and no more than two or three hotels of maybe 4 stories. Still, it looks like a nice place to spend some vacation time.

When we arrived at the park, we were almost immediately strapped into harnesses, given hardhats and thick leather gloves, and sent up a flight of wooden stairs to the first zipline platform. My fear of heights wanted to kick in but I pushed it away and stepped blithely off the platform. Amazing!!! All told, we zipped across the jungle in 7 or 8 lines, some very long and high. With each platform, I got more and more nervous, instead of less! Go figure!! But it was all so much fun that it overrode the fear and I would do it all again in a New York minute.

Next came the tubing through the underground river. First we had to walk through the jungle about 30-45 minutes, with our guide describing the plants and their medicinal uses. We stopped at a termite hill and several people in our little group tasted termites but not me. I did taste a plant that supposedly would save my life if I were dying of thirst, if I could ever find it again.

Funny, I think my gray hair (the first time I’ve not dyed it since I was about 40) really makes me look old because several guys in their late 30s early 40s asked if I would like them to carry my tube but my pride wouldn’t let me accept the offers. I didn’t say it was easier to carry my tube than my scull, but I was surely thinking it!! We plunged into the icy river after that long hot trek and had to form a chain in order to get us through the pitch dark cave without losing each other. This meant I had to stick my feet into the armpits of a total stranger, and Michael put his feet in mine. There were 8 in the group and that’s how we went down the river. The cave was awesome, illuminated only by our headlamps. People were fairly quiet and we could see others’ headlamps bobbing along ahead and behind us. We were given a good lunch and enjoyed sitting with a nice guy from Chicago whose wife didn’t want to zipline.

Dec 10 Costa Maya

Goofy town – really not much in Costa Maya that we could tell. On the pier there were many shops full of the typical Mexican wares, but past that was basically nothing. We took a taxi to the nearest town and used the internet, returning to the ship about an hour later. Until now I have totally spaced out the shopping I wanted to do in Mexico (I usually try to buy coffee wherever I go) but the one grocery store only had instant. Back on the ship we found out there was another town about 10 minutes away along the coast, but by then it was too late to go back out. Too hot anyway. We lazed on the pool deck all afternoon thinking about the temperature in Denver. Michael spent most of the time knitting (I’ve created a monster!!) which attracts quite a bit of attention. Several men stopped to tell him they also knitted, and one said he does cross stitch and had to bring it back to show him! Many heads turned as they walked by and realized it was a guy knitting! I told him the men were going to steal his lunch money but that didn’t seem to bother him. He’s an animal!!!

Pamplona

2009-11-19T19:33:00.000-08:00

So, here's the story about Pamplona.

When I graduated from Marblehead High, Class of '69, I was directionless and had pretty crappy grades. The guidance counselor told me my only choice was to go to a junior college somewhere to try to get the grades acceptable for a 4 year college down the road, but really, why bother when I would probably just get married anyway? It was bleak. Since I had received great training in typing and shorthand from Mrs. Homan at MHS, I ended up working as a Kelly Girl (a temp agency from back in the day -- do they still exist?) and as a waitress (the "worst waitress in the whole world" according to the chef). After a year of this nonsense, my father found out about a course for foreigners offered at the Universidad de Navarra in Pamplona, Spain. I was a naive 18 year old who thought it would be "fun." I had had two years of Spanish, getting an A the first year and a D the second. Imagine how much Spanish I spoke. Basically, nada.

I spent the first semester in a dorm run by Mexican nuns with a 10 PM curfew. I remember trying to register for class and being asked to bring in 4 ID photos and I burst into tears! Where and how was I supposed to get those?? I cried myself to sleep for the first two months -- it was so hard to be in a foreign country where I couldn't do ANYTHING most American college kids were doing!!

One of the things people do a lot in Spain is barhop. When I'd go out with a group of kids, I'd order Coke because I didn't know anything about the little shot-glasses of wine the Spanish kids drank. After several of these outings, one of the guys took me aside and got me to understand that my ordering Cokes was killing them -- the Coke cost about a dollar and the little wines cost only five cents!! Who knew?

Of course the 10 PM curfew was killing me. One afternoon I noticed a door with a key in it, so later that night another girl and I snuck out. This wasn't easy, because the dorm was about 2 miles from town, surrounded by nothing but tilled fields of mud. We managed to find my friend's boyfriend, who promptly drove us back to the dorm! The next morning we were asked to move out. So there I was, 18 and never having looked for an apartment, trying to find one by speaking ridiculous broken Spanish!

Fast forward a couple of years. I became so fluent in Spanish that, when people on the street stopped me to ask directions, they would note a slight lilt to my speech and ask me if I were Basque! I lived for 5 years under the dictator Generalisimo Francisco Franco, and then another 4 years as that beautiful country found its way to social democracy.

More stories to follow, as they come to me.

Change

2009-11-15T13:55:00.000-08:00

Writing down everything you eat is good. (You bite it-you write it, you drink it-you ink it). Lost 3.5 in the first week. Maybe all the chorizo, chocolate, croissants, butter, and everything else delicious isn't what a relatively inactive 57 year old woman should be eating. Ya think? This blog will NOT become a dieter's journal -- those are excruciating. But I will mention my progress from time to time.

I did burn a few calories my last time kayaking with my friend B. It was so warm, sunny, and placid that I was just thinking how much fun it would be to take the scull out, when within moments we were in the midst of a good old fashioned nor'easter! At least, that's what it felt like; the wind picked up so fiercely that the waves were breaking over our bows and we were getting soaked! Of course the wind was going against us, and no matter how hard we paddled, it felt like we would never reach shore. What had taken us about 5 minutes to do when we first went out, took us about 45 minutes to get back in. Wow. Growing up, I always knew the Atlantic could turn on a dime, but a little lake like Chatfield Reservoir? The other times the lake has gotten rough on me, there was a build-up of clouds and other warnings. This time, from glassy water to little ripples on the surface to white caps took less than two minutes. All still under a Colorado blue sky and bright sun. Live and learn. That was Thursday. Today, Sunday, we are looking at 8 inches of wet snow.

Europe 2009 final week

2009-11-08T17:17:00.000-08:00

Because I go back to Spain so often, I never seem to take photos anymore. This is the view of Greenland we got on the flight home. Funny to be flying over Greenland.

Spain is my home away from home. When I was 18 I went to college there, and although I didn't finish at that time, I remained in Pamplona for 9 years. One of the things I find most important is to nurture friendships, so I still to this day have great friends who feed me and house me when I go back. There is something terribly important to me about being with people who knew me when I was young and adventurous, long hair streaming, hitch-hiking to Morocco or Germany on a whim. Those friends are such a joy to be around, because in my mind we are all still in our twenties. Just because our faces don't match, doesn't mean we aren't the same "kids" we always were! I love to see how smart and successful they are, and that they have wonderful and good lives. We are all so very very lucky.

When I got to Madrid, I had to spend one night in a pension because my friends were out of town and I was seeing them on my way home. The pension I found was right next to Atocha train station, because I was catching a 7:30 AM train to Pamplona. Oh man, this pension was a riot! Of course it was in the old section of Madrid (well, it's ALL old over there, but you know what I mean), cobblestone streets, lots of bars and restaurants and street activity, the pension up one floor. My suitcase was huge (for me), but I got it up the flight, registered, and was shown to my room. The door to my room was so narrow that both my suitcase and I had to turn sideways to get in! It couldn't have been more than six feet square, with a bed crammed between two walls, a miniature shower and ridiculously tiny sink. The toilet was down the hall. This room cost me $55, and all I could picture was the fairly nice Holiday Inn room I could get in Denver for $49.95. The doll-sized TV was perched atop the armoire (oh yes, an armoire AND a nightstand were crammed in there!) It was hilarious.

A week in Pamplona followed, where I was treated like a queen as always. I got to see several old friends, ate all my favorite foods (including bleu cream cheese, locally made chorizo, and the best chocolate in the world). The food of northern Spain is so delicious, and I try to replicate it but can never get it just right. Tapas have become elaborate mini-meals, and are irresistible. I spent most of the time walking around my neighborhood, which is the oldest part of Pamplona and where the bulls run every July. Pamplona's old town is being renovated beautifully, with all the facades of the ancient buildings getting fresh faces and new, safe balconies for bull-watching. The Cathedral, too, is getting a facelift and all the bells are being refurbished, so there was a bell concert on the last day they were there before being removed. I lived no farther than 500 yards from that Cathedral for 7 of my 9 years there, so as I listened to those bells I felt as though I was truly home again. Next time I go to Pamplona, they will be back inside a beautifully restored Cathedral. I can't wait!

Colorado days

2009-11-08T14:13:00.000-08:00

The past four days have been incredibly beautiful, with temps in the 70s and sunshine streaming in our windows. Three days ago I kayaked with my dear friend B -- it had been over a month since we'd been out together, and was a lovely time. The next day I went out with my sister -- so nice to have all the time in the world to drift around in the sunshine and chat. We didn't get a whole lot of exercise but sure had a great time. Then yesterday I actually took the scull out! The water was like glass, but pretty cold so I did not want to fall in! I pretty much hugged the shore, in case I'd forgotten everything I'd ever learned and flipped the crazy thing, but I did fine. It is always so hard for me to make the decision as to when to get off that boat -- usually my fanny is sore from sitting on that hard seat, so of course I have put "shell seat cushion" on my Christmas list this year! But I always know that this may be the last time on that boat for many months, and every time I put it back on my car and back into the garage, it is with regret! The most beautiful sight yesterday was a large vee of pelicans, still quite low to the water but over our heads, flying silently south. The swish of the air under their wings is a lovely sound.

I have started a competitive weight loss program, and am pretty psyched. Weight loss, dieting, watching what I eat -- ugh! But now that it is Littleton's Biggest Loser, I'm right there! I don't remember having such a competitive spirit when I was a kid, but boy it sure is there now! Off to play some tennis and to kick butt!

Europe Trip continued...

2009-11-06T20:44:00.000-08:00

These are pictures of Norwich, England, and the beach cabanas are in Cromer, where our timeshare was located. We got to Cromer in the evening and walked from the train station to our timeshare, because google had said it was only a mile. But what a mile! After a steady uphill climb just about forEVer, we got to the driveway of the Cromer Country Club and found ourselves staring straight up a nasty, switchbacking gravel drive. We were exhausted from a full day of travel from Munich, and that driveway was just about the death of me.
But the town was gorgeous and after a good night's sleep, we were able to fully enjoy every minute.

The North Sea looks just like the North Atlantic, and so many of the towns in the area were familiar names from Massachusetts -- Ipswich, Boston, Essex. It was finally chilly and cold, the weather I had expected all along.
One day we took the bus into Norwich (the cobblestone street scene above). Michael got off a few miles outside of town in order to visit the aviation museum, and the bus driver and I chatted all the way into Norwich. He was an old white-haired gent, and has travelled all over the US. He was heading to Disney World with his grandkids in a couple weeks. People are always so surprising! I told him it was illegal in the US for passengers to stand and chat with the driver, and that the last time I'd done that I'd ended up dating the driver for a year! He laughed and said 37 years ago he met his wife when he drove her to work every day on his bus!
Another day we took a little boatride thru The Broads, which is the canal-laden area inland near Norwich. The houses along the waterways were gorgeous, and most had thatched roofs. We saw an otter, a kingfisher and several black swans.
Then there was the Coasthopper -- a bus that goes through all the little coastal towns from Cromer to King's Lynn. We had a great time stopping at little beach towns for shopping and lunch. I didn't chat with the driver this time, but we had fun talking to other passengers. Lots and lots of hikers and birders -- all "pensioners" - retirees who can ride the buses in England for free. What a great idea!

I'm Back!

2009-11-01T12:46:00.000-08:00

Did I mention I have a terrible memory? We just spent a month in Europe. When I went to open my blog to write as we travelled, I forgot my password and was left blog-mute! Of course I keep a hand-written journal, but it's not the same as writing for others.

A week in Paris; one-bedroom condo in the Bastille neighborhood. Our windows overlooked the weekly market at Richard Lenoir, where we sampled fabulous cheeses, olives and fruit. The weather in September was so much warmer than expected, and stayed sunny for almost our entire trip. The Eiffel Tower continues to dazzle, and for two of those warm, starry evenings we picnicked on the lawns in front of it. We are not big spenders when we travel, preferring to eat humbly about half the time. We did find a lovely little restaurant in the Marais (the only one whose name I did not record in my journal!) where I had a beautiful lasagna and Michael had steak tartare. Daughter Maggie met us in Paris and spent several days with us before heading for the Camino de Santiago in Spain. My childhood friend Liz lives just in the shadow of the ET, so we had a built-in expert to give us helpful hints and to introduce us to cheeses and pates that we otherwise never would have tasted. One evening she cooked a gorgeous and elaborate dinner for us. Her tiny balcony had space for two tiny chairs and a table, so Michael and Maggie, who'd never been to Liz's apartment, got to enjoy the view and all the delicious food while Liz and I sat nearby. (When I stayed with Liz two years ago, I breakfasted every day on that gorgeous little balcony!)

Next came a week in the tiny town of Schliersee, in the Bavarian Alps. (I am not yet up to speed at this blogging thing, and can't get my photos to appear at the appropriate paragraphs as I write, darn it!) Schliersee, and its surroundings, looks like something out of a Disney production; I half expected to be dressed in the mornings by little bluebirds and mice, or to get a wake up call from Mickey himself! Green rolling hills full of cows with their bells ringing, colorfully painted houses with impatiens and geraniums tumbling out of window boxes. We have an American friend, married to a German, who lives a couple of valleys to the west of Schliersee. He toured us around Munich and then later in the week invited us to their house for dinner. So so lucky to have local friends -- it changes the way we see places considerably. A gondola ride up to the top of the Wendelstein gave us a panoramic view of the Alps all the way to Italy. (Lunch at the top was two hot dogs and fries, came to $21.00!) Road trip to Salzburg, taking all the little back roads in order to see as much of the countryside as possible, joined by a lovely lady from Massachusetts we met at the condo.

Of course I looked up rowing in Schliersee, and found a rowing club in Tergensee, about a 45 minute drive from Schliersee. Their boathouse was full of lustrous old wooden singles, but the most interesting thing was that they had an agreement with the gondola companies in Venice (about 2 hours away), and were able to train gondola pilots on a gorgeous black gondola they were taking out as we arrived.

My last row?

2009-09-20T11:28:00.000-07:00

Oh no. Today the weather is in the 80s but tomorrow it'll drop down to 50. Gotta love Colorado! Trouble is, today may have been my last row for the season. I have washed down the boat and emptied the car, stored the oars and the wing. So sad.
After I was finished rowing this morning a young couple came up to chat. Turns out the gal had rowed with Rocky Mountain Rowing Club and was thinking of buying a boat. I let her try my beautiful Wintech E21 and she seemed to enjoy it. It would be lovely to have more rowers on my lake. Yesterday another friend came to row with me, so I was on the Little River Olympus (for only the second or third time this summer) when she was in the Wintech -- I am finally comfortable on that skinny boat, if the water is flat. I love seeing improvement in my rowing!

Boston 2007

2009-09-17T15:00:00.000-07:00

In October of 2007 we went to Boston to watch the Head of the Charles Regatta. What a fabulous trip -- the weather could not have been more beautiful. I was raised there, so getting to walk through Cambridge and watch the scullers was just precious to me.

Now, when I row here in Colorado, there are large pelicans in the lake. We didn't have white pelicans where I grew up, but these guys remind me a lot of swans, only with longer beaks and shorter necks. Remember, I'm going backwards most of the time so my vision isn't the clearest! Anyway, they remind me of the Swan Boats in Boston Garden, and they are not afraid of me in my shell as I drift by them. I remember when my girls were little. Boston used to hold a Duckling Parade, where children would come to Beacon Hill dressed as characters from Robert McCluskey's Make Way for Ducklings. There were lots of ducklings, some Officer Mikes, but that year we were the only ones dressed as a Swan Boat! I had the girls in a double stroller, with foam board swans on each side, and their dad pushing them wearing a tam just like the swan boat driver in the book. After the little parade, tuxedo-clan waiters came out of the Ritz bearing large silver trays with pastries shaped like swans for all the children.

So here I am in Littleton, Colorado, on a lake with pelicans, being reminded of Beacon Hill 1985. Funny how my brain works.

Longest Row

2009-09-08T13:59:00.000-07:00

Here's the bicycle mirror, purchased at Target for $5.99, mounted on my oarlock. My husband bought a pvc endcap, drilled a hole in it, and used the bolt that is already on the oarlock. Then the velcro strap just wraps around it, and the mirror is fully adjustable. Voila!

I rowed the entire perimeter of the lake today, approximately 10 kms. I have never done such a long distance. Mostly on the paddle (slow but rhythmic pace), it took me about an hour and 40 minutes. There were almost no other boats on the water, which was like glass. A rogue jet-ski showed up but I wouldn't let it chase me off. The hardest part was reaching the point of no return, just at half-way, when I knew I was committed. My fanny got pretty sore -- guess I'll need to invest in a pad for the seat if I continue to row for long amounts of time!

Labor Day weekend

2009-09-06T13:42:00.000-07:00

Most of what I have done on the water this weekend has been in kayaks due to the heavy traffic on the lake. My husband has rigged a rear-view mirror for my shell which I am dying to try out, but won't do it until Tuesday morning when all the holiday revelers are gone. The people I call "real rowers" don't need mirrors, but it will help with my confidence a lot.

Last summer I was in a single (owned by the club) when I rammed into a quad and poked a hole in the boat I was in. Not entirely my fault, as I have to turn around about 180 degrees and they only had to look sideways to see me, which they didn't do! Sitting on that lake, waiting for the coach to come pick me up, was uncomfortable; transferring my big duff from an incredibly skinny boat with a hole in it, onto her launch, was a nightmare of epic proportions. Why do I think I should be able to move like I did as a 10 year old in Marblehead Harbor?? I felt like the biggest klutz on earth, with five people watching me, the hull of the single filling with water as I lunged my way from one boat to the other. God it was embarassing -- far more embarassing than actually poking the hole to begin with!

Rowing at Union Reservoir

2009-09-02T16:44:00.000-07:00

What fun! It is always a special treat when I can row with my friend J. who bought my Alden. I have rowed almost every day for the past couple of weeks by myself, so to have company is just amazing. But what was doubly amazing today was we saw another sculler on the lake having a lesson! I got home and googled sculling on Union Reservoir and found the Longmont Sculling Club! www.LongmontSculling.com I can't wait to find out who they are and who their students tend to be -- maybe there are one or two old folk like me!

2009-09-01T19:58:00.000-07:00

Ouch!

2009-09-01T19:23:00.000-07:00

Tennis this morning with my Senior Breakfast League was really fun; all my shots stayed in and even some of my serves worked! But then, I had some time to kill before picking up a friend so I decided to take a shower at the tennis club. On my way into the shower my left foot hit a tiled step to the hot tub and I went tumbling down. Now the toes on my left foot are all swollen, my back hurts and I have a couple nasty bruises.
But as my friend who does waaaay more athletic things than I do says, at least I know my bones are ok cuz I didn't break a hip!
We'll see how the rowing goes tomorrow -- thankfully I don't need the toes, but the back might get a real workout. I will be driving up I25 for the first time with the Wintech on the roof. My local lake is only 5 miles away, but Union Reservoir in Longmont CO is about 25 miles north up a very busy and fast interstate. The friend I'll be rowing with bought my Alden 16 from me a few weeks ago -- so happy my darling little recreational scull went to a good home! She lives north of the reservoir, so it's a good meeting place for us.

2009-08-31T19:54:00.000-07:00

This is how it all fits in the trunk and on the roof. The handles of the oars rest on the dashboard. Not shown are the slings we made from pvc pipe, or the swivel rack--those go on top of the oars and the rigging. To onlookers it might appear to be quite a job getting myself and my gear to the water, but it only takes me 7 minutes from the parking lot to actually rowing, so I can't complain.

Getting from here to there

2009-08-31T19:32:00.000-07:00

This is how I get my Wintech E21 onto my vehicle. It is very light and easy to carry up from the water, but then to lift it onto the Yakima roof rack, after an hour of rowing, is hard for me. My husband built the swivel stand you see behind the car -- the top of it spins so I just grab the other end, walk to the front of the car and lift it on. Piece of cake!

Pretending to be on the Bon Secours

2009-08-29T08:55:00.000-07:00

Wistfulness

2009-08-28T17:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes people come up to me wanting to talk about my rowing shell, usually women, but not always. Often, there is a sort of wistfulness when they look at it. They either grew up near a river where the sport was popular, or they had a boyfriend who rowed in college, or they've enjoyed watching it on the Olympics. My age group is pre-Title IX, remember. Since I do not look like an athlete at all, they are usually surprised when they realize here's this middle aged lady, wider at the beam than her boat, doing this difficult sport. (Well, difficult, of course, is relative. Difficult for me, for sure). They linger a long time, and I offer them the opportunity to try it if they'd like, but so far only one has actually sat in the boat.
Yesterday, a gray-haired lady with a boy of about 10 came to look at the boat. We talked about the sport, and the boy seemed enthralled. I had already carried the oars and rigging to the car or I would have let him try it. After ooohing and aaahing for a while, the woman said, "you are quite a gal, quite a gal."
We have so much hard-earned strength at this age. So much untapped potential. Here was a woman having a beach day with (probably) her grandson, who seemed to be enjoying himself spending the morning with his grandmother. SHE is quite a gal, quite a gal. Aren't we all?

Special Places

2009-08-27T18:55:00.000-07:00

Sometimes as I row in my lake, I am reminded of special places I've been. There is an inlet where the water is glassy-flat, and the trees seem to grow directly from the depths of the lake. Birds chatter, cicadas chirp, dragonflies fly. This little spot takes me back to a fabulous trip we took to Alabama, of all places! We used a timeshare at Orange Beach, and I googled kayaking in Orange Beach -- Beachnriver popped up. http://www.openzine.com/aspx/Zine.aspx?IssueID=1983 What an incredible adventure we had! We were the owners' very first customers ever, and we couldn't have been happier. We were a little nervous about kayaking into the depths of the bajou, where every floating log was a gator and every hanging vine a poisonous snake, but as you can see by the ridiculous photo at the above link, we were crazy about the place! We even went back the next day to do it again! Hopefully I've learned to buckle my pfd correctly!

Who I Am and Why I Blog

2009-08-26T12:07:00.000-07:00

A 57 year old woman learning to live life as fully as I can. A mom, a grandmother, a wife, a sister. A traveller, a homemaker, a small business owner. Owned by a cockatiel and the world's most unsatisfactory cat. Coffee addict. Chocolate addict. Keeper of old friends, maker of new ones. Voracious reader with no memory, capable of taking the same book out of the library within months of returning it. Athiest. Fiscally conservative Democrat. Feminist.

At 50 I decided I was going to do stuff differently. And I was going to do a lot of it. Although travel is one of my passions, I was afraid of flying, so I did two things: I went up in a helicopter (cuz I'd never done that), and I underwent hypnosis for my fear. Surprisingly, I loved the helicopter, and cured my fear of flying in airplanes with the hypnosis. Now, getting on a plane is like getting on a bus -- no more white knuckles! ( http://www.mysmokefree.org/faq.htm). And I started working on being a little less inhibited -- not crazy stuff, just kinda corny stuff. Like being at a luau in Maui, getting up to learn to dance the hula. In front of everybody. Or, when the comedian on a cruise ship asks for volunteers, being the first to jump up. I am not gonna just SIT there anymore. This all started on a Duck Boat in Boston in 1999, when the driver turned right into the Charles River and then asked his passengers if anyone wanted to steer. I really really wanted to steer, but I didn't. No more stupid little regrets like that!! Since then? I steer, dammit!

So I'm blogging now to record the stuff I have done since turning 50, in the hopes that other women my age will read it and say hey, maybe I can do that. None of the stuff I have done is earth-shattering, mind-blowing, or cure-the-common-cold important in the grand scheme of things, but for me, they are life-changing. Oh ok, maybe not even life-changing, but maybe just a little get-out-of-rut-free kind of stuff. Like rowing.

Rowing

My 9 foot, thirty pound kayak stuck out of the trunk of my little red four door sedan. I used to take it to the Gravel Pond, just south of Chatfield Reservoir in Littleton, Colorado. The pond is about 800 meters long, and I would paddle lazily around the perimeter for a while, then beach the kayak and sit in the sun eating lunch and reading.

In September 2006 as I sat reading, out of the water like Neptune himself came a tall, thin, handsome man maybe in his late 50s, carrying the most beautiful single shell I have ever seen (of course, I'd never seen ANY up close). “I've always wanted to do that!” I exclaimed, and to my wonder he replied, “well, this shell's for sale!” “It's mine!” I answered. Who knew this was a crazy thing to do? That afternoon my husband and I drove to the man's home, handed him a bunch of cash, and he drove my new boat back to the pond, where he crouched on the beach for two hours holding her stern as I tried desperately to balance in this crazy skinny boat! What a patient man! I sat there thinking who can I possibly sell this thing to without this nice man ever finding out??? I was 54 years old, 30 pounds overweight, with so many negative voices in my head that it is a wonder I could ever do anything new at all.