 |
BREAKING NEWS |
Large hole closes northbound Highway 99 ramp from West Seattle BridgeA 5-foot-by-4-foot hole was discovered Tuesday night on the northbound Highway 99 onramp from the West Seattle Bridge. There is no estimated time for the ramp to reopen. Seattle Times story here. |
I just walked 13.1 miles at the first ever Trilogy Half Marathon! I'm still feeling amped up from the experience! (I wrote those sentences yesterday - LOL. Today, I'm just TIRED!)
It was a well-organized event although there were some last minute problems. I can't tell if the organizers just didn't have any experience on how to put on such a event - like any! - or if there were some unforeseen circumstances that couldn't be avoided. It didn't matter; I had a great time!
The people who come out to cheer on the racers were the best part. It really elevated my spirit, especially in those final miles. There was such a feeling of relief and gratitude when I crossed the finish line. I nearly cried! There were cowbells (can't get enough cowbell!), music ("We Are the Champions!"), and craft beer (Fruitlands from Modern Times, no less, which - btw - is the perfect after-sport beer imo).
I walked away with a few medals which surprised me. The last time I did something like this, I ran the whole Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati with my dear aunt who did the half. I didn't even come close to getting a medal then. Maybe because this was a much smaller event - you might call it "boutique" or "semi-private" (if not "exclusive") - that I had even a chance.
Today, I slept in and later today I plan to get a much deserved pedicure. The Trilogy Half Marathon was a world away from larger marathons such as Cincinnati's Flying Pig (or Seattle's Marathon which I ran just months after 9/11) but I would do it again. As I got ready for the event, I felt the lure of addiction, adding every marathon and half-marathon I could find to my calendar. I felt drawn to the "high" of exercise (if such a thing can be said about exercise) and I schemed as to when I could do this again.
Today, well, I'm just tired.
Hopefully, I'll get the opportunity to do the Trilogy Half Marathon again. Next year.
Links:
We went to see Iliza Schlesinger perform recently and I ended up sitting next to a college student from Kansas here on Spring Break.
She asked whether we had seen Iliza before. Wanting to seem cool and hip, I told that we had adding that we also had tickets to see Leno the following night.
"Leno?"
So much for cool and hip.
I mentioned Leno again the next day to a young waitress, this time asking if she was familiar with him. She said, "I'm not a fan but I'm sure I'd know their music if I heard it."
The last time I saw Jay Leno was probably in the 90s. As in, the previous century. While I saw him on a college campus, I think the kids are into someone else now. To be fair, his crowd was rather geriatric. Iliza's crowd was definitely younger.
I never did make the beets after publishing my first air fryer review. I thought I had too many to do in one batch so I roasted them in the oven. Instead, I made kale chips. Twice.
The first batch was rather tasty. I had freshly grown kale and while I had to make it in batches, each batch only took as much time as it took to prepare the next batch. I kept the chips on the kitchen counter and snacked on them often throughout the day. I figured it was a great way to sneak more greens into my diet. It also prompted me to floss more as I was forever walking around with kale stuck between my teeth.
The second batch was made from grocery store kale and wasn't nearly as tasty as the first batch. Was it the kale or some inconsistency in my preparation? I don't know but I've had enough kale chips for a while. (Kale has been touted as a cancer-fighting food. I can affirm that during the time I was eating kale chips, I did not have or become diagnosed with cancer. There you go.)
I also tried some asparagus in the fryer which came out rubbery. They were tasty - and I ate them all - but I prefer my asparagus to have a little crunch. Sautéed with olive oil, salt, and pepper works just fine and might be a little easier both in preparation and in cleanup.
I've also tried hard "boiled" eggs. They turned out okay, if not a little rubbery, but I prefer how they turn out when made in my pressure cooker.
One thing that did turn out well, was chicken wings. I had bought a giant bag from Costco to make during the Super Bowl and if not for the air fryer I wouldn't have even considered making them. I've never made chicken wings before and while I'll eat them, I've never ordered them at a restaurant either.
All that to say, I don't think the air fryer is worth the cost (regardless of how much it cost) or the space to store it. For me, that is. I know a lot of people who love theirs.
I haven't given up entirely, though. I saw a recipe for chickpeas make in an air fryer. Like the kale chips, the idea is to make a healthy snack. I've also read you can make a toasted cheese sandwich in an air fryer. I guess the idea there is you can toast both side of the sandwich at the same time. Like a panini press. (Register me skeptical.) I just read you can also bake cookies in there, if you only want four at a time.
If I get around to any of those, I'll let you know. In the meantime, however, the air fryer will be gathering dust in the pantry. I've got better fish to fry.
Or do I?
We recently acquired an air fryer for no other reason than it was on sale. I asked my sister-in-law what she uses hers for and she said it's good for all the same foods you would normally fry. This presented a problem as I don't usually fry food. In fact, I can't think of any food that I fry.
I asked a neighbor. She said she loves to make chicken and vegetables in hers. I haven't had much need for an alternate way to make vegetables but I was curious about how the chicken might turn out but haven't tried it yet.
My daughter-in-law likes to make fish or vegetables in hers. She has my interest. The next time I make fish, I will try the air fryer. (Review to follow.)
The fact is, we live in a great produce growing region and fresh fruits and vegetables are easy to come by. I just recently picked up some beets which will be my next experiment. But my first experiment was to make apple chips.
The advice I found online was to slice the apples very thin and then sprinkle lightly with cinnamon. The slices were to be placed in the air fryer in a single layer and "fried" at 375 degrees for three minutes.
The first thing I realized was that a single apple would require two batches which seemed like a lot of effort to go through to eat an apple. Plus, dirty dishes.
The second thing I figured out was I didn't get the apples thin enough. While the online advice warned me of this, I thought my knife skills were up to the challenge. They were not. After three minutes, the apples were just soggy slices. I flipped them around a little and put them in for another five minutes. Still, only one slice was thin enough to crisp up. While it was sweet and tasty, it was clear it wasn't worth trying to crisp the other half of the apple.
It's possible to get the apple slices thinner with a mandolin but then I would have a knife, a cutting board, a mandolin, and an air fryer to clean when I could have just eaten the apple.
It reminds me of something my grandson said when I told him I sometimes like to make a little shot of espresso in the afternoon and drink it out of a tiny little cup. It's a tiny, warm, and yummy afternoon treat. He said, "It makes too many dishes, Doesn't seem worth it."
I guess it's in what you value. The dirty dishes are worth it to me for a shot of espresso every once in a while but when it comes to my apple, I think I'll just eat it raw.
Up next, beets....
I got an email from Gmail that said one of my blog posts from April of 2014 violated Blogger's spam policy and was, therefore, unpublished. The email included a hyperlink to the post but I wasn't willing to click on it so I don't really know what I posted nearly nine years ago that could have been so controversial. The post didn't have a title so I suspect it was only a photo.
Instead, I went back in time and read all my posts from April 2014. If you have a few minutes, you should read the insanity. I literally laughed out loud.
I should consider writing more.
That's what people ask. My answer has included:
You would think, when offered, both kiddos would have jumped at the opportunity to bake something sweet but when they found out the plan was to make coffee cake, they both declined to join me in the kitchen.
"I don't really like cake," the first one said.
"I don't like coffee cake," the other one said more specifically.
I proceeded alone.
I mixed white sugar with brown sugar and flour. "It's not like a cake you eat for dessert," I tried to explain. "It's more like a breakfast cake."
The first kiddo was still uninterested. The second one tried to disguise her intrigue as disinterest.
I added cinnamon and nutmeg. "See? This cake has all the same ingredients as apple pie . . ," one of their favorites, " . . . except there's no apple."
The older one looked at me disbelieving. This could not be a thing, he seemed to be saying. "I think it will be too sweet," he said being the discerning baker himself.
"It'll have too much coffee," the younger offered matter-of-factly. (She, being matter-of-fact in all things.)
"There's no coffee in this cake," I said. This utterly stumped the younger one and did nothing to change her mind. She stood steadfast by her previous statement regarding her opinion of coffee cake.
I added the rest of the ingredients and poured the batter into a pan. I added the crumble topping and popped the cake into the oven. Soon the kitchen filled with the aroma of cinnamon and sugar. When the cake was done, the little one wanted to know if she could try some. (The older one having already wandered away.)
"You've already had dessert. Besides, it's time for bed." We said goodnight as their parents came home and we went home ourselves leaving the cake for them to enjoy in the morning.
The next morning I received a text from our son thanking us for the breakfast treat. "Did the kids try it?" I asked.
"Yes, they were going to help eat the cake," he answered.
Next time, I bet, they will help me bake the cake.
On Tuesday, I took a Pilates class. It's the first fitness class I've taken in roughly 30 years. (From that reference, you might think that I'm a senior citizen myself and you'd be correct.) For most of my life, I've relied on what I could do without paying someone to tell me how to do it: walk, hike, bike; situps, pushups, and the like. This method, it seems, has served me well. I feel fit; I look fit; and, I feel great. I don't remember why I thought I should try a Pilates class but I figured it couldn't be all that hard. Besides, the class I was taking was in a gym whose membership is entirely made up of senior citizens. How hard could it be?
Pilates is all about balance, stretching, and strengthening the core muscles. Or so I thought. Once upon a time, I purchased a book (limiting my fitness expense to the book alone) and tried the exercises at home. I don't know if it had the desired effect, or even what effect I was going for. It was just the popular fitness craze at the time so I thought I would try it.
It's popular again with gyms (they're called studios now) devoted to the practice. This form of exercise (and I never really thought of it as exercise) has been modified to incorporate equipment which means not only more of an investment if one is to do it at home but requires an instructor which, as I've mentioned, I usually avoid.
Whatever possessed me, I signed up for the class.
I was the last to arrive and noticed that everyone had a yoga mat, a ball (such as one you would use for dodgeball or foursquare), a giant rubber band, and hand weights. Although I expected the yoga mat, I couldn't imagine what the rest of it was for. A very helpful white-haired man helped me gather all the requisite equipment from around the gym - er, studio - and the class began.
We started innocently enough with some stretching and range of motion exercises that incorporated the ball and the rubber band. Then, we proceeded to sit-ups combined with leg lifts. Later, we were instructed to clamp a hand weight behind one knee by bringing our heel to our buns and then lifting our leg behind us while we were on all fours (well, threes if you don't count the leg we were lifting). I couldn't keep my weight in place and dropped it on my other stationary ankle. At that point, I decided it was safer to proceed without the weight.
Finally, we did an exercise that closely resembled squats and we did them in slow motion which exercised the quadriceps - the fronts of our thighs. I'm not sure how many we did but I can tell you, it was not my core muscles that were begging for me to stop. When the class was over, all the senior citizens got up and put their equipment away while I lay on my mat and wondered if I should call to get a ride or if I could still walk home. Although I fared the rest of the class fairly well, my legs were shaky.
On Wednesday, my legs were so sore, I took a bath with Epsom salt which helped a little but by evening, I could barely get myself in or out of a chair. I had decided I would do some baking but when I realized that my mixing bowls were on the bottom shelf, I decided it wasn't worth the effort to crouch down to get them. Laundry was similarly out of the question as the dirty clothes were on the floor.
Today is Thursday and I had wanted to take a Zumba class offered by the same Pilates studio. Even though I would have had to pay for the class, Zumba doesn't appeal to me as an activity to be done alone. Besides, it sounded fun: music and dancing. Again, I asked myself, how hard could it be?
Well, I won't be fooled by these white-haired senior citizens once more. If I sign up for Zumba, I'll never walk again!
When I say "bitch," I mean this - in the bitch's own words - as a term of endearment. And this bitch is the most endearing one you will ever meet. She is a kind and caring soul to her core, a woman of faith. She is no angel; she is but human suffering like the rest of us.
I saw her recently when we went to a holiday party where everyone was supposed to bring a gift for a “white elephant” exchange. We were a little reluctant to go. Why, for instance, would we want to go to a party to exchange crappy gifts with people we don’t know well enough to think that could be amusing?... but I think my heart grew three sizes.
But, hey, the day isn't over yet....
Hubby has gotten used to this annual ritual and greets me every morning with "Good morning, Grinchy." I try not to scowl in return as I know my heart will grow larger in inverse proportion to coffee intake. (It usually does anyway.)
It's somewhat ironic that as the temperatures drop outside during the holiday season, the Grinch keeps me warm inside; it's a rather cozy onesie. Although Christmas is tomorrow and I can officially put Grinch away, I might want to give it a wash and wear it for a few more weeks. Or at least until the weather turns a little warmer.
Another advantage of the Grinch suit is that I can get my husband to take out the trash rather easily or bring in the newspaper. The reason is I feel somewhat embarrassed to go outside wearing what amounts to furry green pajamas. I did go out once for the newspaper, however, in the first few days after Thanksgiving. I went out a side door and crept between my house and the neighbor's keeping an eye out for anyone who might pass by. When the coast was clear, I dashed around the corner, grabbed the paper from the driveway, and scurried back inside before anyone saw me.
Today might be different. I might intentionally wear it outside. It is, after all, Christmas Eve. If you see Grinch stomping around the neighborhood, don't be too alarmed. It could just be me on my morning walk. On the other hand, I might be just as willing to steal your Christmas cheer.
The spirit of Christmas tends to elude me during the Christmas season. I justify my grouchiness on stress: the stress of family gatherings and meal planning, meeting expectations (expressed or imagined); forced cheerfulness, if you will. After all, why does it all have to happen on December 25th? Couldn't we do it January 12th? Or July 15th when restaurants are open and I don't have to cook? After all, didn't we just all get together last weekend? Humbug!
But, in this quiet moment, on Christmas Eve while there's still hope and magic in the form of warm brown liquid in my cup (morning brown stuff, not evening brown stuff - although the latter generates it's own brand of hope come to think of it), I think of the people I love and the people who express love to me and I feel my outer crust start to melt and I feel grateful for all I have.
Ask me again in four hours and I may feel differently. There's a lot to do today . . .
Before I finished that sentence, Hubby started talking about how we will cook the roast today. I looked up and saw the kitchen needs to get cleaned. I have cinnamon rolls to heat up but already Hubby is in the kitchen getting the roast tied and ready for the oven. And, I just remembered a couple of things I still need from the store.
Here we go. Let's just get through it, shall we?
(Guess whose cup is empty.)
Christmas brings back memories of bleary-eyed Christmas Eve nights. Not from too much eggnog but from not enough sleep. They were nights of staying up long after all the little ones were tucked in bed with visions of inevitable sugar-coated bounty. There were presents to wrap, stockings to be stuffed, batteries to be installed, bites to be taken of what was left out for Santa (an important detail not to be missed).
There are so many stories surrounding Christmas. Like the time our littlest was convinced he could see Santa flying high above the house. It was snowing that evening putting just the right amount of magic in the air.
Was that the same year Santa delivered bikes? The kids were so excited about Santa in the sky that they ran right past their brand new bikes to rush out the door and gaze at the stars (and the conveniently deceptive lights of a passing plane). When they returned, Ta Dah! There were bikes in their rooms. There was only one way this could happen because the bikes were not there just a moment ago: Santa was real.
Those are special memories but we will never forget the punchy late nights of putting together the Some-Assembly-Requireds. Tired and MacGyvery-ing solutions for toys with missing pieces or forcing parts that wouldn't fit together except through brute force, risking total destruction, we cobbled until we could cobble no more.
The kids are grown now and have their own Christmas Eve surprises to manufacture and it's been a long while since we've had to put together much of anything. But this year, we dusted off our Santa hats and bought something for ourselves with some of the best instructions I've ever seen.
It's not a very sexy gift but it was needed. As this picture might suggest, we still have a little organizing to do. We have pegs for the peg board and tools to hang. We have hooks for the step stool and broom.
Most of the clutter is out of the frame but you get the idea. We still have two sets of shelves to put together. This time, you can bet there will be a couple of beverages involved. But now, we have a work bench to put them on.
