I am myself, again.

Getting Back to Being Me

2018-07-08T10:01:00.000-07:00

This blog started out as a way for me to remember who I am, what I stand for, what I love and what I do with my time. At that point, I was going through a time when I was trying to return to my core and to re-root myself in that as a confident and sure woman who wanted to remain true to herself without compromising for others. This is perhaps why I haven't written a post in over a year and a half. I have been in survival mode. I am simply trying to get through my days, and that leaves no room for deep thinking or evaluating anything other than getting through the day, the week, the month, the school year. Despite the trials that have attempted to uproot me and left me feeling like my life was on hold, we welcomed a new sweet boy into the family and I bought my own home!! All has not been horrible, but I haven't truly been myself.

Baby Bo is just the cutest, happiest bundle of joy
and never fails to brighten my day...
even when he's pulling out all my neck hairs!!

One of the hurdles that I have faced is my inability to remain healthy as a runner. I have discussed my injuries before, so I won't recount them again, but they are important to note because my ability to run and ride and even dance or play with my niece and nephew with no pain or discomfort coincides with my ability to win against my depression. I came back from my terrible heel injury last fall and completed two training cycles and two half marathons. But because my heart wasn't fully in it, I am injured again and can barely even ride my bike 10 miles without pain for days. Exercise isn't the cure for my depression, but it allows me to put up a damn good fight. This winter, I was sick for two months straight and missed a lot of training, but I also skipped most of the ancillary work that I need to do to keep those injuries at bay. I was sick, I was tired, I was depressed, I was in survival mode and anything beyond getting miles in was just too much. I knew what the risks were, but I just didn't care. Now, I can't even get mad at myself, because I made it to the starting line (which was doubtful at times) and I survived the race. It was my slowest half marathon ever, but I was just so damn happy to be back out on the Pig course again.

I barely made it through the Pig this year, but I ran happy and
ran with joy and know that next year, it will be mine!!

The other major hurdle that was a true roadblock to living happily and fully is something that I don't even know how to talk about. On March 2, 2016, the Sisters of Mercy announced that both Mother of Mercy High School (where I teach) and McAuley High School (where I attended) were going to be closing and that a new school, Mercy McAuley High School, would be opening in the fall of 2018. I absolutely loved my time at McAuley and credit the school and my teachers with a large part of who I am today. From the moment I set foot in Mercy as a student teacher, I knew that it was the place for me, and I planned on being a lifer when I was offered a teaching position 10 years ago. The uncertainty of not knowing if I had a job for an entire year, the amount of work we were asked to do (with no guarantee of a job), and the anxiety of the students about the merge was all a lot to deal with. Most days by the time I got home, I needed a nap just to have enough energy to make dinner, do my laundry, and get ready for the next day. It was a point of pride for me that I fed myself real food and showered everyday (even if I went through 2 bottles of dry shampoo!), and had clean clothes to wear (even if they were wrinkled) ... they were desperate times. I clung to my coworkers, to my students, to my friends who had attended Mercy. I became the one who needed words of encouragement from my friends, and I just stopped contacting most of my out-of-town friends. It was too much to catch them up on; it made me too emotional, so I just didn't call, didn't visit, didn't email. I neglected my friends here in town; I didn't check on them, I forgot to get them birthday cards, or even to call. I went for weeks and weeks without seeing my niece and baby nephew; days and days without talking to my mom. She would text just to make sure that I was still alive. I just couldn't handle being in the world because our own turmoil at school was too much. I felt like a burden on my friends, I felt awful calling my parents every time something upset me, or just when I was really sad. I tried to switch between both of them when I called just so that one of them didn't get the brunt of it.

beautiful Mother of Mercy High School

But I went to school every day. I did my job every day. I loved my students every day. I cared about my coworkers every day. I tried to make it the best last year. I tried to remain positive in front of students, to support coworkers who didn't receive positions at the new school, to keep up with my work for class the next day and also the work we were asked to do for the following school year. I tried.... and then I came home and laid down on my couch because I had no more left to give.

The building will live on as a school to become home to a new set of students in a few years. The memories will live on in our hearts and mind for the rest of our lives: the lessons, the loss, the success, the fun, the tears, but most of all, the love.

Turning in my keys was really hard. I totally cried.

So, here I am now on the other side. The school has officially closed, I have packed up my room and turned in my keys, but am still wearing my Mercy spirit wear nearly every day at home. I will be at a different school next year, run by a different order of sisters, but I will hold the Mercy values always close to my heart as goals to strive for: faith, service, compassion, leadership and excellence. Those values are the core of who I am, who I have been shaped into, what I want to exemplify. Those values are my core and make up a large part of who I am. As I walk into the future, I can hold onto that and begin to let that shine through again.

sitting this one out

2017-01-06T21:26:00.001-08:00

For the past three years on this night, I have checked the weather 582 times, tried to remember which pair of running tights is my favorite, debated how many tops I need to wear and spent 30 minutes digging through my closet for my favorite glove and mitten combo--all for a 2-3 mile run. For runners in Cincinnati, tomorrow is like the beginning of Advent. The time of preparing ourselves and waiting oh-so-patiently for the coming of the Flying Pig Marathon.

But this year, it's starting without me. I'm currently sitting on the couch, sipping my second beer, and intending to sleep in well-past 5:30am tomorrow morning. Last June when the doc told me I needed to hang up my running shoes for a little bit, I never imagined that seven months later I would still be side-lined. That I would still be laying in bed on Saturday mornings, listening to the chatter of the city's running groups as their route takes them past my building. That I could eat or drink whatever I wanted on Friday nights and stay up late. That I would still be in pain. That I would sit out a second training season and that I would go through the grieving process once again.

I really hate waiting around to run in the cold anyway...

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be pain-free and able to walk unrestricted again. I look at my running shoes that haven't moved from the bottom of the pile in months and think how neglected they must feel. I drive through the city and miss being out in it in the early mornings or on clear nights with my friends as we gut it out together, pushing and supporting one another.

It's not just the running that I've lost though. It's my feeling of self-worth, of accomplishment, of belonging. It's the discipline and determination that running requires and that I've let myself slack on. When I'm training I eat well, I meal prep, I plan my workouts and hangouts, I get enough sleep, I take care of my legs. When I'm not training, those things don't happen. I can't remember the last time I went to the gym or got on my foam roller and there have been many weeks that I've made-do with what is in my pantry and freezer and skipped the grocery entirely. I've got loads more time without all that working out, but I seem to be constantly behind on my chores and schoolwork, as I "rest" in the little nest I've created for myself on the couch and binge-watch tv shows.

The truth is that running makes me better. I'm a better friend, teacher, daughter and citizen. I can deal with my life better. I spend more time with my thoughts and I take better care of myself. I plan better, manage my time better, prioritize better. I make more plans with my friends because I'm good and pleasant company. It's not that I'm a bad person when I'm not running, but I can't seem to manage to get my shit together, and when I do, I can't keep it together.

I'm also looking to the future and dreading the hours I'll have to put in a the gym to rebuild the muscles that I've let atrophy these past months, so that I can run stronger and faster than before. I've done it before, so I know just how hard it will be, but I also know what it feels like to toe the line of that first race back and that is what I have to keep sight of. One thing is damn sure... that first Sunday in May I will be the loudest and most obnoxious fangirl out there on the course, cheering for all those folks who are crazy enough to sign up for a race that starts at 6AM on a Sunday morning.

One day I'll get back here and it will be the sweetest victory.

Living Life

2016-06-02T18:42:00.001-07:00

I have been seriously slacking in the blog-osphere these past months. Everytime I was inspired to write, I didn't know where to start because there was just SO MUCH. I've had to adjust to my 30-year old body that has different hormone levels, dietary needs, sleep requirements and among other things--dry, lackluster hair. It has been tough figuring all these things out and trying various new habits to restore myself to homeostasis. I am happy to say that for the most part I feel at home in my 31.5 year-old body and that I'm lucky for the support of family and friends and doctors who really listened to me and helped me get back on track.

This is Baby Becks at 3-4 weeks old.

My family also got a new addition!! I have gladly given up hours upon hours to spend time with my new niece, Beckett Ann. She is just the most precious snuggly thing and I already have so many plans for all the fun stuff we'll get to do together when she's older and can walk and talk. For right now, I try to get in as many of those post-bottle naps on my bosom as I can.

4 races in 3 days = 5 total medals

School and running have both been a little bit of everything as well. I have reached some running goals that I never thought I would ever reach and I also successfully rehabbed from Achilles Tendonitis in the fall. However, I'm still plagued by nagging heel pain which causes me pain for most of the day and night. I hobble when I first get up, it throbs when I sit down, it wakes me up in the middle of the night and I often dread simply walking around my classroom to pass out papers or check on the girls while they're working in groups. I finally found a doctor who really listened to me about it, and I just got an MRI, so we can finally get to the root of the problem so I don't have to deal with this constant pain any more and can go back out there and run even more than before!!

Happy to see these girls graduate after all the recommendation letters I wrote for them!

School this year has been incredibly rewarding, but also very challenging. I participated in a few extra things this year that have caused me to change the way I look at a lot of what I do and that has been both exciting and scary. There's been a lot of changes in administration over the past few years, so that has taken more getting used to and some veteran faculty members who I look up to are retiring, so I am preparing to step into a new role next year without my mentor to help me. We also just said good-bye to a class that has been very special to me. This group of seniors was full of a lot of really great kids that I go to know very well. I've become a real-deal teacher in the past 4 years and they've helped to challenge me, support me and be my guinea pigs, time and again. A handful of them are the kids that I would have been friends with if we were at school together and I can't wait to see what they accomplish in the coming years. I will miss them, but look forward to meeting our very, scarily small incoming freshmen class next year. All of this is exciting, stressful, and scary, but I know that it will be rewarding in the end.

on being single

2015-10-27T12:20:00.002-07:00

There are many wonderful things about being single, like being able to do anything at the exact moment I want, having things arranged just as I like them, leaving a weeks' worth of running socks in a pile on the floor where I take them off every night, not having to listen to complaints about my hair all over the bathroom floor, listening to whatever I want on the radio, having my bed to myself and being able to look at my own calendar and make plans immediately. I treasure and am grateful for all of these things because I have hope for a future when I won't have them. However, there are a lot of things that are tough/challenging about being single.

I don't get a lot of human contact. Hugging is not professional, so it happens only rarely at work. We tend to not hug at running group either... there's something about being drenched in sweat that dampens the desire for getting too close. One of my girlfriends has two boys under two and every time I'm at her house, she apologizes when I somehow end up with both of them in my arms and lap. In those moments, I feel so full and whole, and I carry the peace of that abundance of warm little boy love with me for days! Humans are wired to share love, affection, respect and appreciation through contact, which explains why I go to bed every night sandwiched between two stuffed animals.

Girls' nights don't have the same appeal. I love a good girls' night as much as the next girl, and I especially love when I get to have them with my married girl friends because it shows just how important time with me is to them and I love and cherish that I get to share the time with them and just them. However, I would love a good dudes' night every once in a while. I spend all of my time at work with 142 teenage girls and an overwhelmingly female faculty. Sometimes I just want to be around people who actually eat more than me and can lift heavy things for me!

I sign a morality clause in my contract each year. Among a whole host of things this means that I promise not to have premarital sex or co-habitate. In today's world, this goes against societal expectations and norms. A lot of people have their "third-date baggage" that they have to share with the hope that this new person in their life will understand and accept; this is mine. Most of the time it feels like a burden that I carry, but it's there and it's a decision that I continue to make for a variety of reasons. It's a decision that has caused a lot of heartache in my past two relationships. It's a decision that has, ironically, made me comfortable talking about sex. That's the funny thing about NOT having sex--you spend a LOT of time talking about why not. As a single woman, I feel that this morality clause leaves me very vulnerable. As a married woman, you can't break the biggest ones and even if I did something crazy and broke a different one, there'd be a second income to break the fall before I found a new job.

People are always making comments, asking questions and giving advice:
Are you married? Do you have kids? Why aren't you married? Are you looking? Do you go out to bars? Why don't you join some group to meet more people? Aren't there guys at parties you go to? Why don't you try the online thing? What about so-and-so? My friend/relative/acquaintance met her husband online. When are you getting back on online dating? Isn't there anyone at your Church? I'm sure you meet lots of guys at your running group. So-and-so has a really nice grandson/nephew/cousin, but he's too old/young/inactive/grumpy/non-religous/out-of-town for you. You're such a nice girl. He's out there. Keep putting yourself out there. Go out more. Talk to more people. Don't worry about having kids, you're still young.

I have to be financially stable by myself. I can't count on a double income. I only have my parochial school income to live off of and right now, I have to plan on that being it for the rest of my life.

I don't get to bring dates to weddings. I feel very lucky to have been present to celebrate the weddings of so many of my friends, and this is NOT a dig on them. It is simply an observation. I know it is unintentional, but I often feel like I don't count to be worth two plates because I'm single.

I have to do all my own chores. There's no one to share chores with. Prepping, cooking and cleaning up from a proper dinner takes at least 2 hours. I also don't have anyone to push my sleeves back up when I'm elbow-deep in dough. I also have to wait a long time between loads of laundry until I accumulate enough to warrant making a load, so that means I actually have to own more of the basics like underwear, socks and jeans.

Dresses with zippers up the back. I'm pretty flexible, so I can normally get my dresses on and off, but occasionally I have to wear a jacket over my half-zipped dressed and beg an unsuspecting woman in the bathroom to zip me up the rest of the way and then figure out how to get out of it when I get home!

I'm the only one making decisions. This is one of the greatest things that I envy about my married friends, I don't have a partner to bounce things off of, or to be in the same boat with when they spring a leak. I have trust myself, or call mom and dad.

So, if you have a single friend, cut them some slack when they stay they have to stay home to clean or if they come over ostensibly to hang out with you, but spend most of their time holding your child, or playing with your dog or talking to your husband. Give them hugs in greeting and leaving and don't ask them how dating is going unless you're prepared to listen to a tirade and commiserate without giving any advice. If you're married, invite them to things with your sig-fig and maybe offer to drive them every once in a while when you go out, since they don't have someone to share that duty with either. For most of us, it isn't a choice, and while you may envy us on occasion, we need to be around you to see how our life can be so that we don't give up!

Ride Cincinnati

2015-08-12T15:32:00.000-07:00

Today was too beautiful to stay inside and I had too much work to do to take a nap, although I was tired from my early morning trip to the gym before heading to school to meet with the students on my Key Club Board, so I hauled my commuter bike out of the basement and rode down to Deeper Roots Coffee Shop in Oakley to get an afternoon pick-me-up and work on my lesson plans.

I've been riding my road bike around different parts of the city for a few years now, but when I moved to East Walnut Hills, I bought a commuter/fitness bike to ride around town. It is outfitted with a rack and panniers (bags that hook onto the rack) to haul stuff like groceries or my laptop and textbooks, fenders to keep my clothes clean and obnoxiously-flashy front and rear lights so that no one can miss me coming. I often ride my bike to Hyde Park for running group, to one of the nearby coffee shops and downtown to catch some music in Washington Park or to pick up groceries at Findlay Market. It takes me longer to do all these things, but I'm getting exercise, fresh air, sunshine and interaction with others while I'm doing it, plus I don't have to worry about finding or paying for parking!


Free parking downtown where no parking is allowed.

Most of the places that I ride either have designated bike lanes or are 4-lane roads, so there is plenty of room for me to safely ride in traffic. However, I'm often upset and frustrated on these rides that should bring me nothing by joy and satisfaction. In the past few weeks, I've had several conversations with multiple friends and they've mentioned annoying things that cyclists do and I want to explain why people who ride bikes do these things so that you can be an informed, understanding and kind driver. I know that I was very confused about what to do when I encountered a biker when I first started driving. I'm the first to admit that many cyclists don't know or don't follow the rules and I'm the first to judge them for making the drivers of Cincinnati angry at all cyclists.

Why cyclists do what they do:

Running Red Lights
     -Should we: NO. Do we: YES. Cyclists have shoes that clip into their pedals and it is quite honestly a pain in the ass to unclip and stop. You can judge them and be mad at them at flat intersections, but show some mercy on hills... it is really hard to get started again!
     -Cyclists are not heavy enough to set off the light sensors, so they are lawfully-allowed to treat red lights as stop signs if the light doesn't change and there are no cars coming.

Riding in the middle of the lane
Cyclists are supposed to do this. It is safest for both drivers and rider for them to ride in the middle of the lane, this is because that is where it is easiest to see them. Plus cars are more apt to pass them by either changing lanes or crossing over the double-yellow line instead of trying to squeeze past in the lane the cyclist is traveling in.
Cyclists are also supposed to "hold" their lane. They should not dart in and out of the lane of traffic when there are no parked cars. The only exception of this is when traveling on a two-lane road. It is important for cyclists to be predictable and the best way for that to happen is if they "hold" or own their lane, just like any other car.

Move into the lane of traffic when there is a bike lane present
    -The "Right Hook" is very dangerous to cyclists because drivers sometimes misjudge how much room they have to turn right in advance of a cyclist going straight. This can result in a serious collision for the cyclist. It is safer for them to move into the forward lane of traffic so drivers who wish to turn can stay behind them. This actually happened to one of my friends and was incredibly scary.
-There is sometimes debris in the bike lane
-Cyclists have the legal right to ride 3 feet from parked cars. This is so that they don't get "doored" by people getting out of the car. Bike lanes are typically right next to parked cars, so the lane of traffic is actually three feet away from those parked cars.

Ride on the sidewalk
No grown adult should ever do this!!   It's a nuisance! If you're not comfortable riding in the road, take your bike to the trial or walk it on the sidewalk. You don't want to run over a group of grandmas or a little kid on training wheels!

Not wear helmets
Just like motorcyclists, they're taking a gamble and you should judge them. I don't go anywhere without mine because I'd never forgive myself if I got in a wreak and hit my head.

What you can do when you encounter a cyclist:

Give them room!!!!
Cincinnati City Law and Ohio State Law mandates that drivers give cyclists three feet when passing. This protects the driver from hitting a cyclists and having to deal with the repercussions and gives the cyclist room to maneuver around potholes and manhole covers. The road presents a lot of obstacles when you're on very skinny tires!
Also, if you can, change lanes when passing a cyclist in a bike lane, because why not give them and yourself more room?

Don't Honk!
We are outside and we can hear your car, unless you drive a Prius, in which case, you're probably pretty conscientious anyway and will give us the room we need. Plus, we turn around to look behind us all the time to make sure no one is going to run us over!

Be Patient
In all honesty, the amount of time you're going to lose in getting to your destination if you get stuck behind a cyclist is negligible. Take a minute to think about how much you loved riding your bike when you were a kid or check out our spandex-clad behinds. We're pedaling as hard as we can and know that you're stuck behind us and we're trying to get out of your way!

Don't throw shit at them
I know no one reading this would ever do this, but it happens.

Cross the double-yellow line to pass
It is okay to cross the double-yellow line to pass a cyclist or an emergency vehicle. Pass us just like you'd pass a cop who has pulled someone over. This is not illegal, it is safe.

Don't pass on the right
You're not supposed to do this to cars, so don't do it to cyclists. Bikes aren't supposed to travel in the parking lane and neither should cars. Pass on the left, just like your momma taught you when you were 16.

Don't pass on windy downhills
Most cyclists get up to the speed limit on downhills. If it is a curvy two-lane road, just enjoy the view and don't try to pass. Cycling downhill on windy roads at the speed limit takes a lot of concentration and oftentimes the berm is non-existent or riddled with potholes and the safest place to be is in the middle of the lane.

If nothing else, remember to pass with three feet and tell all your friends!!!!
Thanks for reading and for seeking to understand!
If you want more info, please see this link to Bicycling Street Smarts to learn more!!

Confessions of a Tour de France Junkie

2015-07-07T12:01:00.000-07:00

There are few things in this world more peaceful, exhilarating and quintessentially human than a group of cyclists gliding easily along a winding road. Even as a kid on my first 10-speed, I loved when 2 or 3 real-deal bikers would come whizzing past us with their funny shoes that made them clunk around with their toes in the air when they weren't on their bikes, their tiny pedals and those shirts with the nifty pockets in the back. I never really understood how their shoes and pedals hooked together, or why their handlebars were so complicated when mine were so simple, but I admired them because of how fast they could go, and how effortless it seemed on those frighteningly skinny tires. As I grew up and we traveled more, we'd encounter groups of cyclists out on the road and there was something awe-inspiring about their ability to move together as one, nearly floating over the road, in unison with their bikes and their fellow riders at or above the posted speed limit.

I was recovering from my ACL surgery during the 2012 London Olympics, so I had ample time to watch and got really into the bike races. For the past three summers, I have become consumed with the Tour de France for the month of July. I languish away inside, glued to the TV, watching these men gut it out. They are truly amazing! So many of them crash and get back on their bike, or call for a new one and keep on going as they ride next to the team car while someone dresses their cuts and checks them out as they continue to pedal. Sometimes they finish a stage (one day of racing) and have to withdrawal because they broke a collarbone, wrist or vertebrae, or they sit in back, nursing their wounds and bruises, hanging on until they’re back in racing condition again a few days later. It is truly amazing what the human body and spirit is capable of when it’s all on the line.

Although the ultimate goal is individual victory, it truly is a team sport. So many team members sacrifice their own personal goals for their teammates who actually have a chance of winning. There are members called “domestiques” who literally shuttle water bottles from the team car up to the other riders and drop back only to refill their jerseys and fight their way back up again. Then, there’s the lead-out guys who give it their all on the way to the sprint line or finish line so that their best sprinter can have an easier time getting to the finish line. The lead-out will then peel off to the side when they’re exhausted and their sprinter will just explode. You see these lead-out guys finish in the back of the pack because they’ve used up everything they had in the lead-out. Sometimes the other riders will give a better rider their own bike if they crash or have a “mechanical” (normally a flat tire or shifting issue) and the team car is too far away and the finish line too close to wait. Without all those guys on the team, the best riders would be nothing.

Its not every day you get to see the good riders do their thing though, because they’re so well-protected by their team mates. Their team drafts for them, keeps them protected from wrecks in the peleton (the big group of riders), from the wind, and helps control the pace of the race. It is really exciting when a stage allows for the best riders to shine, when they leave their lesser team mates behind and gut it out amongst themselves, they seem super-human—capable of unimaginable feats and it is then that you see why their team works so hard to get them across the finish line.

The other thing that I love about watching the Tour is getting to see all the neat old cities in France and all the crazy fans along the course. It's like taking a helicopter tour through France every morning and the commentators (with their excellent British accents) are great at giving lots of info about the various churches, castles, towns and historical sites along the route.

In the words of my favorite cyclist of all time, Jens Voit: "Shut up, legs!"

Proud to be an American

2015-07-03T12:40:00.000-07:00

I am a lot of things: Catholic, female, a teacher, an historian, from Cincinnati, etc. All of those things influence who I am and how I see and act in the world, but none of them impacts me more than the fact that I am an American.

America is still the land of freedom and equality, of opportunity and possibility. Our nation was built of the hopes and dreams of millions of immigrants. It still holds that promise for so many today, which is why we have the ongoing immigration debate currently.

Our freedom and prosperity has given way to some fantastic inventions that can help humanity just as well as they can destroy it. We have so much disposable income and disposable time that entire segments of our economy have been built around our consumption of movies, music, clothing, sporting events, etc. We our a country where the "mom and pop" shop still exists next door to chains. We gave birth to the big box store, to the supermarket, the shopping mall and to internet shopping. We also have a very strong sense of local traditions and shopping local.

We have the oldest constitution in the world. The US Constitution was written by men who could never have seen what the future would hold, but they knew that they had to create a government that could develop along with technology, commerce, population, war, peace, and domestic strife. They gave the states power to run themselves, to educate their citizens, to build their own roads, collect their own taxes, etc. It's amazing that after all the changes this nation has seen, our Constitution still stands as a testament to all those who risked their lives to be free to live, write, speak and worship as they wished.

We have spread a love of denim, various types of music, fast food, and movies worldwide. We have also entangled ourselves in various conflicts and international debates. We have made unilateral decisions that affected people in other countries. We have suffered our own civil war and reunited our nation. We've suffered a terrible terrorist attack that has changed the way people travel all over the world. We've relocated two entire populations of people and denied them the benefits of their citizenship because we were scared of them. We've killed nearly all the buffalo in our nation, and today devote lots of time and money to saving endangered species all around the world, including our very own symbol of freedom: the Bald Eagle.

We are a people given to wanton waste and have one of the greatest national park systems in the world. We have the richest poor people in the world, but their lives are not enriched like those in many other nations. We have people like Bill Gates who has a hard time giving away the interest that he makes on his wealth. We can go the grocery and buy the same fresh produce year-round, but we talk about carbon footprints.

We are a country of paradoxes, but we have to own them all. Because in that too, we are American. All of these things are what we are, and to deny those things is to deny our American-ness and that is a real shame. We are a country that has created it's own culture over the past 200 years, and that is really something! This country is vast and great and full of so many different people, religions, beliefs, thoughts, hopes, and dreams. So this weekend we will celebrate it by setting off fireworks, drinking a few beers and eating lots of hot dogs, burgers and dips, because what's more American than that?

Peace and Sustainability

2015-06-10T10:03:00.000-07:00

When I started training for my first half marathon last year, I expected to lose weight very quickly and easily. What I did not anticipate was the crazy amount of food that I would be eating to keep myself from being uncomfortably hungry within an hour or two of my previous meal. When it seems that everyone around you is on a diet while you're increasing your daily calorie in-take, it is hard not to get a bit of a complex. I felt like everyone was judging me for how much I was eating. I was judging me on how much I was eating. I lost 40 pounds after graduating from college and with the exception of the 10 pounds I put on after my ACL surgery, I have maintained the same size for many years now. I really struggled last spring because I thought I wasn't doing what I was supposed to, that I wasn't a real runner, that I was getting fat. I started weighing myself every week just to make sure I wasn't gaining weight because of how much I was eating. I was running three days a week, lifting at the gym once or twice a week, swimming once most weeks and going for a long walk with my mom and dog every Sunday; I was happy doing those things and I had plenty of time to do all the other things I wanted. When I was stretching or resting in between foam-rolling sets, I was on Instagram looking at running hashtags that featured "clean" dinners, ripped abs, hours at the gym, lost pounds and "cheat" meals. I've never lived that way and don't want to live that way, but when I compared myself to those people, I started to get really down. I started to question the three times in the past week that I'd enjoyed some Graeter's ice cream, the 1/2 bag of Hershey kisses I'd eaten in the last three days, the gravy I gleefully drenched my dinner in, the calzone I had for lunch, the tater-tots I had for dinner, the butter I make sure melts into every nook and cranny of my English Muffins, the cheese I consume like a baby drinks milk and the fact that I was using real peanut butter instead of PB2.

I once took a gym-selfie, during a break in doing planks, in an attempt to understand the appeal of them.
I still don't get it.

After breaking down about feeling "fat," which was COMPLETELY crazy, I realized I needed to step back. I needed to come to peace with my body and figure out how I really wanted to live my life. I stopped looking at all those running hashtags on Instagram and I kept eating how I was eating. I stopped listening when people commented how much I was eating and relished those moments when people pointed out just how much work my body was doing and that if I was hungry it was because I really did need those calories. I had to remind myself that I was stronger, faster, and fitter than I'd ever been. I had to decide that I don't want to spend the rest of my life eating chicken, broccoli and brown rice for lunch and dinner and egg whites or low-fat anything for breakfast. I had to remind myself that I am healthy and whole and happy and that making and eating the kind of food that I do is part of what makes me happy. I had to forget all the guilt that my health-nut ex-boyfriend made me feel about eating some of my favorite things (like every white condiment) on a regular basis.

Don't be hatin' on my buffalo-bleu cheese mac just b/c you're jealous!

I don't want to be a slave to the gym or to my diet. Would it be cool to have a 6-pack? Yeah, but I don't want to put that kind of pressure on myself to maintain that. Sure, I could work really hard and eat "clean"and cut a lot of fat and sugar out of my life, but I don't want to. I completely changed the way I look at food when I lost those 40 pounds years ago so that I could figure out how to eat the things I like and be a size that I'm happy with. I'm happy being 150. I'm happy eating butter, cheese, ice cream, cookies and full-fat plain yogurt. I'm happy knowing that weeks I'm busy and I only have time to squeeze in two runs and some strength training at home that my body won't explode. I'm happy knowing that I'm fit and healthy and that I get to slather my quesadilla in sour cream. I'm happy snacking on fruit and popcorn instead of chips. I'm happy with my training schedule. I'm at peace with my body because it is capable of many grand things and even though I could run faster if I lost 5 or 10 pounds, I don't think I could stay there in the long haul and I would lose the peace that I have with my body.

Donuts make people happy. Happy people are more active. Active people are more healthy.
Donuts=Health
(kinda, if you follow my logic)

I'm trying to make habits and decisions now about food and exercise that I can carry with me through the rest of my life, including if I'm blessed with a family one day. I know that I will have a lot less time, but a big part of that peace is that I'm mentally okay with working out less and that I don't feel bad about myself when I gain a pound one week because I ate 4 dozen cookies (it's happened) or 5 pounds when I went on vacation (it was New Orleans). I have to be at peace with the decisions that I make and they have to be sustainable when I have a family to feed or friends to go to dinner with. I don't really believe in "cheat" meals because I think that every meal should not just nourish your body, but your soul as well. If you're looking to talk to me about this, you'll find posted up next to the snack table at the next party, shoving my face full of buffalo chicken dip and the Doritos my host left unattended.

In with the new, out with the Community

2015-06-04T06:14:00.001-07:00

When I was a kid, my Dad always loved to drive up Elm on the cobblestones in front of Music Hall. I always looked at the small urban park on my right and always wanted to go in there. It always looked shady, cool, dark and delightful. Little did I know that park would become the focal point of a crisis of conscience I would suffer from for years later on in my life.

Music Hall, in all its beauty and glory!
Taken standing in Washington Park.

In both high school and college, I did a lot of volunteer work at the Drop Inn Center (a homeless shelter that takes anyone, in any state of sobriety or intoxication), located catty-corner from the Park. We were told to walk and park on the opposite side of the street from the Park for safety.

Then I stayed down there, for about 1.5 mos total and visited friends who lived down there, multiple times. We were housed in OTR, facing the Park both before and after our Service Learning trip to Ghana, W. Africa. We still followed the rules: don't walk or park next to the Park after dark.

What was wrong with this park, you ask??
Washington Park was originally a cemetery for the good people of Cincinnati until Spring Grove Cemetery was built in the mid-1800s and all the remains were moved there. At that point, it became a park and eventually an elementary school and pool to serve the neighborhood were built. Overtime, as the neighborhood changed and the Germans moved out to the suburbs, Washington park became home to many homeless Cincinnatians and a refuge for drug dealers and drunks. The Park was full of grand old trees, winding walkways and a fabulous, old, grand bandstand.


Jo-Momma and me at the Grand Opening of the "new" Washington Park. You can see the Bandstand behind us.

While I had been away in Ghana, Hamilton County Sheriff's office had been busy kicking all the bad guys out of OTR. Drugs were much less of a problem and that reduced the amount of shootings. However, as 3CDC began to buy up more buildings, many families were displaced from their homes. The children who used to play on the playground and swim in the pool and go to the school were now living in different neighborhoods. The apartment building next to ours, that had grill outs every weekend and would offer you a hot dog as you walked by, was vacated, it's inhabitants sprawled. Soon enough, there was no need for the Washington Park School because there weren't enough kids to go there. The school and pool were razed, a parking garage was built underground and those huge, luscious trees, planted by the neighborhood's first inhabitants, were thinned out. The people who called Washington Park their home were thrown out to find underpasses and bridges to live under.

Washington Park was completely redone and is a gorgeous place to be. The war memorials and cannons are still there, as is the bandstand. You can just sit there and soak up the beauty of Memorial Hall and the grandeur of Music Hall while you listen to kids play in the splash park where colors change in mesmerizing patterns as the fountains spray highly-chlorinated water to the delight of young and old alike. The park hosts musical, craft, food, alcoholic, family, workout and movie events nearly every night of the week and also features a cute, but too-small dog park full of city pups. It is truly a glorious place to be and I can't keep myself away. Whenever I go there, I just feel the love that I've always had for my city bubbling up. Washington Park is just as magical as I always imagined it was as a child.

Washington Park from an awesome window in Memorial Hall on Opening Day.

However, every time I'm down there, people are conspicuously absent. There are absolutely no homeless people at all, in-part because of the armrests that are strategically placed in the middle of every park bench, white kids tend to out-number black kids playing on the playground and in the fountains, and some days it is difficult to find a StreetVibes (Cincinnati's Homeless newspaper) vendor to support. When I walk the streets around the park, the inhabitants that I used to serve and tried so hard to understand are gone, replaced by transplants from suburbia. Do I feel safer and more comfortable? Yes. Does it make me sad that all of those people have been pushed out of the old OTR, the one I originally fell in love with, the one with all the stigma attached to it? Yes. The community that used to exist here has been slowly chiseled away, one vacant apartment building and park bench at a time. Every time I cross the threshold into Washington Park I have to take pause and think of all those people whose lives were disrupted so I could have a fun night with my friends, drinking a few local beers and enjoying some bluegrass music.

be careful what you pray for

2015-05-22T07:42:00.001-07:00

Patience is probably the one thing for myself that I most regularly pray for. I consider my impatience to be one of my greatest flaws in how I deal with other people and it is also in large part to blame for my regular bouts of restlessness. As someone who values efficiency, I quickly lose patience with people and systems that aren't efficient or streamlined. When I'm dealing with old people, little kids, and people on crutches, I've got it in spades; anyone else, you're out of luck!

Last year, in the midst of my great post-ACL and post-breakup come-back, I was struck by the most painful overuse injury I've ever had: an inflamed hip-flexor. After a few days of hobbling around, avoiding sitting, and popping double-doses of Aleve, I found myself sobbing in the office of my friend and confidante, MK, asking what I ever did to deserve this and what God must have planned for my future that is so horrible he has to test and strengthen me in this way. This was my come-back, my victory lap and I was reduced to tears and considering dropping out of training for my first Flying Pig 1/2 marathon. Luckily, MK and Jo-Momma talked me back from the ledge and I went to the doctor, got a steroid pack, and was back out running a week later.

borrowed from: https://cheeseandvegemite.wordpress.com/tag/training/

That was until I suffered the same issue (in the other hip) this year during Flying Pig training, just weeks before the big race. I got another steroid pack and made it to both the starting and finish lines. However, it's now been three weeks since the race and I haven't run since. I'm still dealing with some residual hip issues and a new and very unwelcome knee issue. I spent the first two weeks feeling sorry for myself as I watched all my friends run, while I handed out routes and toted water jugs around for the running group.

Working the water stop for Queen City Running Club

I've realized that maybe this is how God is trying to teach me patience. Healing takes time. It takes time for our hearts and our bodies to heal, and they both need that time of rest and extra TLC to get back to full strength. So this is triple practice: patience with my body, with myself and with those around me. I need to send good vibes to my body so that it will heal adequately and I have to be kind to myself when I really want a large ice cream or 1/2 a bag of Doritos or 2 brownies in one sitting, even though I haven't had an adequate workout in days. All of my will-power is being poured into the exercises, stretching and icing that I need to do for rehab, so I have none left to resist all the leftover Easter candy that I've demolished this week without a shred of guilt or remorse. In that is true patience; I know I'm losing fitness and gaining a few pounds, but it's okay.

God is funny like that, he always gives us what we ask for, just not always how we hope it will come! Patience is truly a virtue.

Heavenly Hummus

2015-04-03T15:18:00.000-07:00

The very first thing I bought with my first big-girl, real-job paycheck was a food processor for the express purpose of making hummus. The food processor is an amazing machine that helps me make a lot of wonderful things like guacamole, pizza, pasta sauces, soups, shredded cheese, but I continue to make lots of hummus in it!

I spent months researching various hummus recipes until I came up with a hybrid, taking a bit from here and a bit from there. Turns out, it's pretty popular among my friends and coworkers. This recipe produces a very smooth and almost creamy hummus.

Ingredients:
-1/3 C tahini
(it's much cheaper if you buy it from a Mediteranean store, like Dean's at Findley Market)
-3 TBSP +more to taste lemon juice
(I just use the stuff from the fridge. At least one lemon will do the trick.)
-1-2 cloves garlic
-1 can chick peas (garbanzo beans)
-1-2 tsp kosher salt
-1-2 tsp fresh ground pepper (it won't be as good if it isn't fresh-ground)
-.5-1 tsp ground cumin
-1 TBSP EVOO

Procedure:
1. Drain and rinse the chick peas. I used to peel each bean individually, which took almost 10 minutes until one night I was super tired and just dumped 'em in, husks and all. It turned out the same.
2. Stir up your tahini. If you've never used tahini before it's a little funky to get used to. The heavier stuff settles to the bottom. I normally use a fork to help break up all the hard bits. It's okay if some small chunks go in, they're break up and mix in just fine. Don't spend more than 2-3 minutes doing this, otherwise you'll drive yourself nuts!!
3. Add the tahini and the juice of one lemon to the food processor with the garlic until it gets fluffy. This probably takes about 30 seconds. This is where the magic happens and how the hummus gets creamy!
4. Scrape down the sides and have another go at it for 10 seconds or so.

This is what you want it to look like with the lemon juice and tahini mixture.

5. With the food processor running, add the chick peas, a hand-full at a time.
6. Add water a bit at a time until the chick peas start to break up and the hummus starts to form. This should take about 1 minute. You can always add more water, but can't take it out. I normally put in about 1/4-1/3 C each time.
7. Add the salt, pepper and cumin and mix for several minutes.

You can see that the hummus has become very smooth.
Add the olive oil at this point and call it a day!

8. Check the taste, you can add more lemon juice (I normally add 1-2 more TBSP), or any of the spices, according to your specific taste buds. Run the food processor for another minute or so.
9. Check the texture, is it too dry for your liking? Add more water. It will harden up a bit in the fridge.
10. With the food processor running, add a few glugs of EVOO and let it run for another few minutes.

mmmm!

Hummus can be enjoyed right then, or refrigerated for later. It'll stay good for a week in the fridge. I like to serve mine with some EVOO drizzled on top with a few dashes of paprika for color. Serve with whatever dippers you like! I normally stick to pita chips, pretzels and carrots.

**As you get proficient, you can add other flavors if you wish. I prefer mine more traditional, but you can test it out with roasted red peppers, pesto, or any other ingredients that you might desire!

Race Season is Upon Us

2015-03-05T15:13:00.000-08:00

Last year I ran 10 races and I PRed (Personal Record) in each one of them. All of them were new distances, except the 10k, which was my only race before last year. I ran two half marathons (13.1), a 15k (9.3), a 14k (8.6), two 10ks (6.2), a 4-miler and three 5ks (3.1). Most of them were either free or at a reduced rate and they were all hard. I dropped a minute off of my 5k time in three months and almost 10 minutes off of my half marathon time between May and October. These are great feats for a girl who typically feels really slow and ends most races wheezing so heavily people stop to ask her if she's okay.

With Jo-Popa after his longest race. He beat me, but I didn't have to walk up any of the big hills :)

Training runs are where it's at. I love training and running and having that schedule and ticking off those miles every week. However, races are fun and they give you a chance to test out your training, to help you keep your edge and to see how you do when adrenaline and nerves enter the picture and how you stack up against people your age and your training partners.

My favorite training buddies in Kentucky with the city behind us on one of our long runs this summer.
Running buddies are really important on long runs and hard races.

At the same time, races are hard. As Jo-Popa so lovingly reminds me every time, "It's a race, Kel. Go fast!" Most of the time they're uncomfortable. They make your legs sore, your knees ache, your shoulders stiff and your lungs burn. The ones you race the best leave you feeling so spent and yet so alive that you want to go back and do it again... after you eat your under-ripe banana and drink your water, of course. They make you feel like you want to die; make you wish that you were at home, on the couch, in bed, anywhere but there. They leave you gasping for air and feeling like you deserve all those snacks and calories that you don't really need to replace.

I was well-trained and well-fueled. Felt awesome!!

There's a magic in the race, a camaraderie that you feel with the others around you. There was my second 5k in a week when a woman told me "you can always sprint at the end," earning me a 6-second PR. Then there was the girl I'd been leap-frogging for 2 miles at the end of the Queen Bee. We rounded the corner to the final stretch and I told her: I'm going to kill it, and you're coming with me. We both raced to the end, finished triumphantly, hugged, laughed and parted ways. Races are magic, especially when they have chocolate milk and coneys at the end.

My favorite Brew Hog, hogging out on post-race coneys!!

Like anything else, there is an art to racing.
1. The most stressful thing for me is arriving at the race. I worry about parking, being on time, using the bathroom, checking my bag. This is mostly mental for me and I have to deal with that. However, the bus stops right outside my apartment. If it can get me close to where I need to go, taking the bus takes a lot of the stress out of race morning.
2. Lay everything out the night before. I do this before my long training runs anyway, but it's especaillly important on race morning. Pin your bib to your shirt the night before so you don't forget it and aren't scrambling around for safetey pins in the morning.
3. Most races are in the morning and it gets cold just standing around before the race. Either suffer through, wear something lightweight you can tie around your waist until you find a family member to pass it off to, or buy something from Goodwill that you can ditch as you warm up.
4. Talk with the people around you. Everyone is excited and nervous. Make some new friends, have fun!
5. Pace yourself early on. It's easy to get caught up in the excitement, but use the same discipline that got you to the starting line to reign in the adrenaline early on. As practical as I am, this is not a problem for me, but it is for a lot of people, especially Jo-Popa!
6. Look at the course ahead of time. Know where the hills are and where the finish is. You don't want to start your kick too late to be of any use or too early and run out of juice.
7. I always eat a trusty breakfast the morning of the race: banana and either oatmeal or white bread (hey, it works!). Find what works for you and trust it.
8. For longer races, discuss where your fans will be along the course, so you know where to look for them. It is easier for you to see them than for them to see you.
9. Bring warm and dry clothes for after. If the race is during any weather under 75 degrees, bring extra clothes. Don't leave your cold base layer on. Peel it all off and put dry stuff on if you're going to be hanging around afterward!
10. HAVE FUN!!!!! Enjoy the race, show off your medal, wear your shirt with pride and take pictures. You earned it!!!

If you don't bring enough clothes for after the race, you'll end up with a Mylar skirt to keep your tired leggies warm!

Suffering Through Lent

2015-02-17T10:14:00.001-08:00

It's that time of year again when we try to live a little more intentionally and austerely. My post last year talked about giving things up, but this year, although I will attempt to cut back on sweets and beer, and to be more patient, I'm going to try giving up something else that is very uncomfortable for me.

The past few months I have been with my friends and family as they have dealt with a lot of tough life experiences, that are all pretty much the worst things that could ever happen to someone: an unexpected divorce and a miscarriage, thrown in with several very sick family members, hospital stays, rehab facilities, emergency surgeries and the usual anxieties brought about by uncertainty and depression.

I've spent a lot of time crying and praying with and for my loved ones going through these hard times. I've tried to empathize with them as best I can and have called on God to give me the grace I needed to be compassionate and to speak words of love and encouragement when they were most needed. Oftentimes it has been through food and sharing a meal that I have felt most useful. When the heart and soul are hurting, a good meal can go a long way.

So this leads me to my Lenten resolution this year: I'm going to offer up my physical suffering in the gym and on the road to God for the relief of those who are suffering body and soul in this world. This is something that is very awkward and uncomfortable for me, so it'll be a real struggle, but it is something I want to do.

I spend a lot of time working out, and a lot of it is hard and challenging and often leaves me collapsed in a heap or wishing I could. For years, I have owned that pain because it is mine. It is born of my weaknesses, my laziness and my desire to push myself and work hard. No one else owns that, it is all mine. But maybe it shouldn't be, maybe it should belong to God.

Ever since I was in high school, Jo-Momma has always told me to "offer it up to the Lord" whenever I was going through a hard time. I never really got what that meant. I have a hard time letting go of my pain--it brings a sense of comfort, knowing that it's there, that not everything is rainbows and butterflies. However, I recently read the story of Our Lady of Fatima and the story of those three kids truly suffering for the conversion of sinners made me finally see. My discomfort, my pain is only temporary. It makes me stronger both physically and mentally. Holding onto it and keeping it for myself doesn't do me any good. However, if I offer it up to the Lord, if I put it out there into the world to suffer in solidarity with, and relieve the pain of those who have been displaced in Syria or CAR or who are homeless or battered in my own city, I can do something with that discomfort other than just looking forward to the end of spinning class, the top of the hill, the Star Crunch waiting at home, or getting off the foam roller.

I don't think this is some noble thing that is going to solve all the world's problems, but if I can let go of that so that God can take away some one else's real and enduring pain for a few hours, then I'm going to try. So instead of wishing for it to end, I'll try to be glad that I'm working out in prayer and with intention in my heart.

Cincinnati City Council Hates Cincinnati

2015-01-14T14:57:00.000-08:00

We have exams this week at school, which means I got to leave at 2:30 today. 3pm is my coffee cut-off time, so I zipped on down the hill from school to 1215 Wine Bar and Coffee Lab in OTR, which happens to be one of my favorite places to chill, any time of the day. If it's too late for coffee, I can just drink wine instead! I was overjoyed to find a spot equidistant from the coffee shop and Holtman's donuts, but my world got a little sad when I went to pay the meter: They've replaced the tops of ALL the meters with credit card readers and mine wouldn't take quarters!!!! Serioulsy, what's wrong with quarters?!? Part of the reason why this was so disturbing is that a significant portion of the meters in OTR have had the tops knocked off of them, which means they're free! I actually exclaimed aloud, "This is SHIT!" and increduously ripped off my mittens, shoved my quarters back in my pocket and went digging through my purse for my wallet and plucked out a credit card before I jammed it into the slot with as much angst as I could muster with my cold hands and a piece of plastic. It didn't give me the satisfaction of feeling like I was sticking it to the City.

This angered me for two reasons:
1. One of the joys of meter-parking is when something is jammed in the meter and you can't get your money in, you don't have to pay. This is condusive to a mid-afternoon ramble between the various shops and comes in handy when you decide to pop into a drinking establishment for Happy Hour!
2. I don't trust the City as far as I can throw their incompetency, and I don't know how I feel about them having my credit card information stored in some computer.

Stepping into the warm sweetness of the donut shop calmed my nerves and I merrily made my way down to the coffee shop clutching that joy-filled bag of donuts and my clipboard full of exam essays. I enjoyed my afternoon latte and graded a fair amount of the essays I had left from today. Then I bundled up and headed back out into the cold. That's when my incredulity turned into utter dismay! Thanks to my caffeine-induced heightened awareness, I noticed that there were new red and white stickers where the standard-issue black stickers that have been on those meters since before I was born. The ones that used to say you had to pay 8-6 Mon-Sat and that Sundays and Holidays were free. I literally experienced sticker-shock today. The new hours of the meters 9-9 Mon-Sat and 2-9 on Sunday. SUNDAY!!!! They are charging for parking on Sunday!!! They are going to pay some poor sap to check the meters for 7 hours on Sunday and for 2 extra hours every other day of the week!!! On top of that, the price has DOUBLED in OTR. It's still cheaper than the south side of Central, but really? At the end of the night, you've wound up spending a beer's worth of money for the privilege of parking on the street!! Is nothing sacred anymore?!?

Free parking on Sundays is right up there with rain, death and taxes: it's something we can count on.
God only knows how much City revenue has increased with all of the new restaurants, bars and businesses that have opened in OTR in the past few years. It wasn't even the City who made the neighborhood as safe as it is today; the County did that back in 2006 when they started cracking down on crime and pushed all the bad guys out into the surrounding neighborhoods, which set a chain-reaction in motion that has filtered all the way out into the outer suburbs of the metro area, causing a prepetual movement away from the city-center. But that's a story for another day. Ask me about it sometime.

So anyway, the County starts the "clean-up" of OTR, the City sold a whole bunch of buildings, tax-free for $1 and 3CDC started doing their thing. Now OTR doesn't even look like the OTR I knew and most of the people down there don't even know what it used to be and who used to be there, but that's another story for another day. Ask me about it sometime. So, the city sells a bunch of liquor licenses and makes a shit-ton of money off of OTR and now they're trying to make more money on the backs of the very people who have supported this shift and transition: the customers, the people who spend their hard-earned money patronizing the businesses in OTR, many of whom work in the city and already "donate" a percentage of their paycheck to the city every two weeks. So, what's going to happen now that parking goes until 9? I guarantee the average wait-time at restaurants, which is already ridiculously long, will go up because people are going to have to leave their table to go feed the meter again (with their friggin' credit card), which will delay them ordering their dinner, or will give their fellow-dinners cause to enjoy one last drink while occupying a table instead of a bar stool.

Cincinnati is a wonderful city. I have defended it for years and have drug many returning friends down to OTR and downtown to prove to them that Cincinnati isn't the city they left after graduation in 2007, but the City continues to make Cincinnati less appealing. There's the whole issue of them borrowing from the pension fund, and then the long, drawn out debates about the street car, and who can forget the Twitter wars between Leslie Ghiz and Laketa Cole? This latest stunt, which was first proposed several years ago, when the city considered privatizing parking, is just one more thing for people who don't already love this city to judge it harshly for.

So now, my strong senses of justice and loyalty is tested once again. Do I pay to park on the damn street and give my money (and precious credit card info) to the City, or do I park in one of the garages and give my money to 3CDC, which I pretty much hate on principle (although I patronize many of its spaces on a regular basis)?? I can take the bus, but then I'd have to walk 4 blocks through a very desolate part of downtown that is situated in the no-man's-land between the downtown business district and the Gateway Corridor (does anybody even call it that anymore?? #oldschool #so2006). This whole thing has only further solidified my desire to get a "beater" bike with enough gears to get me up Gilbert and through Eden Park so that I don't have to deal with this lamentable parking issue at all! However, it's winter and I don't ride in the winter because I'm a wimp about the cold, so until then, I'm stuck paying a a morally-exorbitant amount of money for parking in OTR.

Thanks City Council, I hate you too! Why don't you figure out how to balance your budget and pay for things BEFORE you build them?!?

My Relationship with Online Dating

2014-11-08T17:27:00.000-08:00

When I first became so desperate that I resorted to online dating to finding a life match, I was very embarrassed about it. I remember the night I finally decided to do it. It was a dark, cold night over Christmas break years ago and we had just finished a warm and filling dinner and I'd had an emotional amount of wine (I tend to get a little weepy if I have a few glasses), I tearfully told my dad that I thought I'd never find anyone and I'd better take matters into my own hands. I signed up for eHarmony the next day. It was exciting and scary all at the same time. At this point, I can't even remember how many times I've been on eHarmony and then Match, when I realized eHarmony was slow and cumbersome, and wasted a LOT of my time and energy communicating with people who I realized I wasn't interested in as soon as we got to open communication, which took weeks. Match is a lot freer and more open, so you can talk to people much sooner and therefore, weed them out faster.

I've been using these sites on and off since 2010 and have had 3 boyfriends for a total of 17 months in that time. I've probably spend a quality amount of the remaining 31 months (minus the months that I took to heal my heart) looking for my next heartbreak. I don't even want to know how much I've spent on these services over the years and how much school work or housework I could be getting done in the time I'm spending online. It's always a relief to find someone so that I can cancel my subscription, it's always a sign of commitment to the relationship for me.

My friend Al is currently applying for a new job and she's sending out 3-5 applications a week. I decided that finding a husband should be treated like a job search, so I've been staying up late the last few weeks sifting through men on match, liking, winking and emailing. My goal is to send an email a day. I've been pretty consistent on this. The only way to get noticed is to put yourself out there, so I've been very active. It is exhausting though! I spend a lot of time and energy on my emails. I structure my email like a letter with a greeting and opening sentence and ending with a quality salutation and my first name. The email itself includes comments about things they've mentioned in their profiles, questions about things they're interested in and my thoughts on some of those topics. They're typically only 3 short paragraphs (I don't want to overwhelm them), but I put a lot of thought into them. Half of them go unread, and I probably only get responses from 1 person a week, when I'm sending out 5-8 emails in that time. It is so disheartening. If I do get an email from a guy, it is often not an actual email. They treat it like a text or instant messaging. It's called email; I expect them to put forth the effort to greet me, construct full sentences and then sign off with their name. It's common courtesy and respect.

I have lots of great pictures showing all of my interests. I don't have any bathroom or car selfies, no pictures with ex-boyfriends cropped out and I'm smiling in each one of them. I send out many more points of contact than I receive in any given week and most of the time the ones I receive I'm decidedly not interested in. I've had friends and family members look over my profile, including a few of my friends' husbands. They all say it looks great, I just don't know what else to do!

I'm always asking older people I know if they know anyone who might be compatible with me, and they always say they wish they did, but they don't. Last winter, I emailed a lot of couples that I used to be friends with, asking them to introduce me to eligible young men that they knew. It was great to hang out with people I rarely see and meet their friends, but I wound up not being interested in any of them. A great idea, but ultimately a failure, although I did have several really fun nights!

I've also become more picky as well. Religion has been a point of issue in my last two relationships, so I've been vetting that a bit more, but I don't want to invest in someone only to find out a few months down the road that they would prefer to never pray with me and won't ever think about going to church with me.

So, there is no recourse other than to keep hunting, being open in my social life and setting up dates with the ones who do email me back. All of this has to be done without letting confidence take a hit every time I don't hear back from someone I'm really interested in, which can be hard when I'm home for the fourth weekend in a row after a week that I stayed up until 11:30 every night sending a total of 10 emails, all unanswered. Nothing to do but keep living and looking.

the Importance of Balance

2014-10-30T20:22:00.000-07:00

As today was potentially the last fine fall day we will have and as I'm still shying away from high-impact activities (cough-running-cough-cough) to give my legs a proper rest, I decided that one 25 mile bike ride this week did not suffice and that I needed another one tonight. Grades were due yesterday and I feel like I've been running non-stop for the past two weeks and early in the week I designated this evening as the one I'd spend finishing the bottle of wine I opened earlier this week and resting my leggies on the recliner. A few things changed: I went for a ride, and I have much more wine left than I can responsibly drink on a school night. :)

Although it was fine bike-riding weather, there were very few people out on the trail today. Biking is a rough sport in the chilly weather: you have to dress like its 10-20 colder than it is. So, even though it was 53 when I left the house, I probably looked like I was dressed for winter, complete with fleece-lined tights, heavy-duty socks and windproof gloves! I was perfectly comfortable until about 6:45, when the sun started setting and the temperature dropped fast!

This might be the first legit selfie I've ever taken, but you can see how bundled up I was!

Due to the temps and sparse trail usage today, I was alone for much of the time. In fact, I was so alone and so immersed in my own thoughts that when I came upon a busy intersection full of rush-hour cars, I nearly forgot that I needed to stop and wait for someone to let me cross. Luckily I came to senses with a few feet to spare!

The Loveland/Little Miami bike trail is very flat and general straight, which makes it perfect when you want to go far and not get worn out with hills. This also makes it perfect for lots of "Look Ma, no hands!" moments, which I had a lot of today. I rode up straight, with my arms comfortable at my sides for almost a mile today. I didn't pass a soul aside from the squirrels and minibears (chipmunks) rummaging through the leaves, getting ready for winter. I started thinking about balance and how important it is. As kids, Bubba and I rode all the time. We would ride anywhere, on anything and would push our balance and speed limits often. That's actually how I wound up in the ER needing stitches on my chin at the age of 8: "dipping" on my cousin's bike. Bubba is the one who had all the fabulous high-speed crashes, but I'm the one who got stitches--go figure!

When I got my road bike last year, I was so unsure of myself and so afraid that I'd loose my balance on those skinny little tires. I've never been very good at keeping a bike on the path, so I very quickly realized that when going in a generally straight line, we can use our whole bodies to keep us upright if we get caught in a rut. Sometimes you can't steer yourself out because you'll crash, so you just have to keep pedaling and fight with your legs, abs, arms and head to keep yourself balanced until you can regain control. Life is a lot like that: when something tries to throw us off balance, we just have to keep moving forward and fight with every ounce of strength that we have to hold ourselves upright until we get through it.

View from the handle bars... just leaves, trees, freshly-paved trail and lots of critters rummaging around!

Balance is something I've been trying to work on the past year. My life felt very out of balance last year and I've made some good changes for myself, but this struggle for balance is an ongoing one: the balance between work and home, social and personal time, sunshine and darkness, exhaustion and relaxation, love and apathy, want and need, head and heart, thrill and comfort, hunger and fullness, sobriety and silliness, rest and laziness, planning and procrastination, organization and chaos, action and distance, and last, but not least: hot and cold. A balance of all these things is required to make a happy life, healthy relationships, an effective employee, a comfortable home and a peaceful, content heart.

This balance can come easy to us when we're on a straight, smooth road and we can sit back and let things unfold in front of us, easily dodging small obstacles (like twigs) without ever having to redirect, but it takes a lot more trust to keep this balance when the road is a little rougher. There is a section of the trail where the tree roots have cracked the pavement and I rode over that part hands-free too. I had to use my legs a little more and I was a little tenser, but I trusted that my body would keep me balanced and that God wouldn't let me fall on such a pretty day. I realized that life is a lot like that too. When we go through rough times, if we listen to our hearts and souls and do what we really feel like doing and skip out on the things that we really don't feel like doing, we maintain that balance. Maybe we let something fall to the wayside, but our lives maintain their balance, which is the most important thing.

So tonight, I took a scalding hot shower when I got home to thaw out my hands and feed, tried to eat a dinner to replace the calories I burned today, had a few glasses of wine and about twice as much water, and propped my legs up for a few hours and didn't do a lick of school work, all in the name of balance. I'm still tired and worn out, but I feel rested and ready to tackle the coming weekend.

The Egg Sandwich: Summer lunch perfection

2014-06-16T12:49:00.001-07:00

I am a huge fan of hard-boiled eggs and mayo, so it would stand to reason that one of my favorite lunches is an egg sandwich. This simple little sandwhich consists of just three ingredients (5, if you count salt and pepper) and can be assembled in mere minutes. It is wholesome, relatively healthy and packs the punch of two of nature's most perfect foods: eggs. It is best enjoyed on the back porch with some cheetos and a slushy or a glass of milk (nothing beats a cold glass of milk on a hot day).

For sandwhich nirvana, follow these simple steps below:

1. Peel your eggs. Duh!! Some vinegar in the water when you boil the eggs will help the eggs peel easily.

2. Lightly toast some bread. Personally I'm a really big fan of white bread for egg sandwiches, but rye bread also works great as well. I hate wheat bread--judge away! The real key is to lightly toast the bread, you don't want it too hard and crumbly. It should be just a little crunchy and retain its chewey-ness.

3. While your bread is toasting, slice your eggs. An egg slicer comes in handy here, but in the absence of one (or if it's in the dishwasher because you used it yesterday), a vegetable knife and a steady hand will do the trick.

4. Remove your still-warm, lightly-toasted bread from the toaster. A nice 20-year old standard-issue Tupperware plate is the best way to serve the egg sandwich.

5. Slather both pieces of bread with mayo. This is not the time to be skimping on calories, you should apply the mayo to the bread as liberally as you would spread Coppertone on a baby at the beach. The mayo helps bind the sandwich together.

6. Arrange the eggs on one side of the bread. I try to overlap the whites and the yolks so that they're evenly distributed throughout. Season to taste with good old-fashioned salt and pepper. No need for fancy sea salt or fresh-ground pepper.

7. Place the other piece of bread on, smush lightly and enjoy!

If you're into veggies on your sandwich like lettuce and tomatoes, you could add those as well, but why ruin a good thing.

The Teacher's Apology

2014-06-09T08:22:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, my brother and sister-in-law both got pretty big promotions that were accompanied by significant raises. The whole family was bursting with pride and my parents and I told anyone who would listen about how great Bubba and Jules were doing in their careers. After an evening that I spent with my parents and some family friends, I found myself apologizing to my parents. For the fact that I'll never get a promotion, or a big, merit-based raise for them to brag about. Teaching isn't a profession where one moves up the rank, we just gain seniority and one day are appointed department chair and are expected to do a lot of extra work for a measly stipend.

I felt bad that I'll never accomplish anything of great stature for my parents to brag about and they told me I had better put those thoughts out of my mind, that while the things I do might not be recognized by society, they still matter. Like being in charge of Key Club, the school's service organization and inspiring my students to help, understand and love others. Like being involved in our Freshman orientation program to make the freshman feel so much more comfortable when they first come to Mercy. Like when I come home late because I stayed after school to help a struggling student. Like when I go on retreat and share part of my story with them and help them realize that even though I'm a grown-up, I still have a lot of the same thoughts and issues they do and that it's okay. Like when I have to cut off the number of recommendation letters I'll write in the fall (10 is my limit!) because I have a lot of kids that want me to write theirs. Like when a senior comes and asks me to be the one to cut her hair that she is donating to Beautiful Lengths.

I felt so honored that one of our sweetest and brightest seniors asked me to be the one to cut her hair for donation.

These things won't get me a raise, they won't get me bragging rights at the next family gathering or HS reunion, but they're the reason I get up every morning and come into work. They're the reason I continually work on my patience, why I always try to go to bed on time, why I eat a big breakfast every morning, why I live my life the way I do and act and dress the way I do: so that I can be my best for my students, give them the love and respect they deserve and hopefully serve as a role model for some of them. At the end of the day, their successes, accomplishments and happiness are my raise because it lifts me up and reminds me that what I do matters.

Where the elephant men are KING

2014-06-05T17:45:00.001-07:00

I have spent many an afternoon riding my bike on bike trails since I was a kid. As I've gotten older and returned to riding, I've noticed a prominent fixture on all the bike trails around town: the elephant man. You know the men I'm talking about: big bellied, big chested, precariously but perfectly balanced on their skinny little tires with their knees jutting out away from their bike. They always sport the bike-shorts-and-t-shirt look, which makes them look so cool with their shirt flowing around them while you feel like you can't catch a breeze. Hardly any of them wear helmets because they never leave the trail. They all ride really nice road bikes, the kind of road bike their wives let them buy when they tell her they want to buy a motorcycle after retirement.

The thing about these guys that really gets me is what makes them king: they just speed around that trail. Going in the opposite direction I'll see them 2-3 times over the 8-mile loop. When they pass you from behind, you don't know how someone so big can go so fast, but they do. They're biking machines. These guys spend hours and hours on their bikes every week. Escaping their wives for a few hours, or burning off some calories so they can have a beer at dinner and some cookies with their grand kids without too much of a disapproving glare from their wives. I just don't get how they can ride so much with their knees angled out like that and how that doesn't slow them down. The most distinguishing feature of these men is their calves: they all have the most beautifully sculpted calves you've ever seen on a human being. That is the true mark of the elephant men, their calves.

Now, get them out on the road, or on some big hills, I could probably out-ride them, but on the trail, they rule.

The Banana-lover's Lament

2014-05-17T13:21:00.001-07:00

The past few years I've really been struggling with the banana selection at the grocery store, because they normally look like this:

I mean, seriously Chiquita and Kroger? How is anyone supposed to eat these without getting a terrible stomach ache! How do the monkeys at the zoo have nice yellow bananas and I, a human being, spending my hard-earned money, can't!?! This is just getting out of hand! And don't even get me started on the occasional batch that looks like it's on steroids because they're indecently long. No one wants to eat that much banana in one sitting!

Another issue, sometimes they're sooooo green when you get them that even though they're ripe, they're still green, so by the time you realize it, they're too far gone, like these guys:

These have so much green on them, but have plenty of spots too! How's a girl supposed to know when to eat her bananas when the characteristic markers are so screwy?

The main issue with this is that bananas have about a three-day window where they're ripe enough to eat, but not too ripe. That means I end up eating 2-3 a day so that I don't waste them. Then I have to go buy a new batch and wait 2-4 days waiting for the next ones to ripen and in the intervening time, I'm perfect-breakfast-and-snack-food-less. The best system is to buy new bananas as soon as you start eating the first ones, but then you end up with bananas of varying ripeness all over your counter, waiting until they reach their perfect level of ripeness, which for me is a bit more than for most people, but I really HATE when they aren't ripe!


These bananas are at their peak ripeness!

I never used to have issues with bananas before I went to Ghana. Either bananas here have gotten worse, or I became so used to the sun- and tree-ripened bananas that were so small and delicious you could eat two, three or even four in one sitting. There was no waiting around for them to get ripe, they weren't cut off the tree until they were perfectly yellow and they came straight to you the next day. I miss those!

running is FUN!

2014-04-22T11:26:00.000-07:00

As mentioned in my previous post, I'm currently training for my first 1/2 marathon. Since the Flying Pig is coming up in just a few short weeks, I've been spending a lot of time reflecting on why I'm training for this race and why I'm just having so much fun doing it!

Like one of my best friends and running inspiration, MegD, I used to HATE running! In fact, we would go for long, energetic walks where we would talk about how terrible running was. When I found out that she was becoming a legitimate runner, I realized that I should probably give it a shot.

The summer before grad school, I was taking an NEH Summer Seminar in San Diego. We were in class three hours a day and had about 4-5 hours of reading each evening. I did not have the time to walk the 6 miles that my mom and I walk every single day of the summer when I'm home, so I started jogging. By the time I got home from my 6-week stay in CA, I could run 3 miles.

As grad school and teaching got to be more and more overwhelming, I found myself running more and more. I didn't have time to sleep (sorry students), shower (sorry sleep-time), do laundry (thanks, Mom), eat (did that in the car a lot), see my friends or have a life (grading papers on the couch was my "relaxation" time), but I made time for a run 4-5 days a week. As I got into my second year of grad school and began writing my thesis, I became more serious about it: I invested in some Under Armour shirts, a nice pair of running tights and some fuzzy Smart Wool socks that cover my ankles and I ran through the winter. I trained for my first 10k and ran it! I made a lot of rookie mistakes and actually went through a great deal of pain because I unknowingly ran with a torn ACL for 6 months, but running is what got me through that terrible time of teaching, thesis-writing, getting over a terrible broken heart and missing my friends.

Red-faced, sweaty, sore, but a 10k finisher!!

Unlike work, I couldn't piss anyone off while I was running. I wasn't going to have a class of students mad that they still didn't have their test back, or an upset parent email. I wasn't going to let my classmates down by not holding up my end of the work or disappoint my professors because I wasn't fully prepared for class. Running was something I could fail at. I got to set the goals, the rules, the time frame, not someone who was holding my grade or paycheck over me. The time I spent running was the only time that I didn't have to multi-task. I became a very good multi-tasker in that second year of grad school, which meant that I was only 1/2 good at everything I did, but not running. As hard as I was pushing my mind to make sense of all the archival materials I spent hours sifting through two days a week after school and reading an entire love-seat full of monographs, I was pushing my legs just as hard out there on the trail. Having a physical manifestation of my daily mental exertion was energizing and liberating. I often came up with good solutions to research issues while I was out on my runs, or I thought about nothing, or I just kept telling myself to put one foot in front of the other. I didn't matter what I looked like or what I sounded like. I looked terrible and I sounded like a walrus, but I didn't have to preform or impress anyone.

After that 10k, I had to stop running and get my ACL repaired, followed by 8 weeks on crutches, 3 months of PT, countless hours at the gym on the weight machines, doing wall-sits and lunges, dancercize classes to get my coordination back, spinning classes to get my stamina back and two different braces. I started running regularly again this past fall.

This brace did more harm than good, and I'm still struggling to iron out the kinks it left in the back of my leg.

I had been thinking about running a 1/2 since I got hurt, but I didn't really give it much thought before I signed up for the Bob Ronkers Running Spot Training Group as if that was what I had been planning on doing all along, which I really hadn't. I put in so much work, building my legs into the muscular strangers that that are to squander all that away. I worked hard enough that I rarely ice my knees anymore, and then mostly just out of paranoia than actual aches. I deserve 1/2 marathon glory, I've earned it!! There have been some challenges along the way: I was actually hurt when I started training and had to cut back and go on steroids for a week in the middle of training, but the pain is almost all gone now, thanks to a really smart PT and some more dedicated work by me and LOTS of foam rolling. (If I had a dollar for every leg lift I've done in the last two years, I'd be able to retire!)

Every morning before our long runs, I show up and start asking people if they're excited to go run 8 or 10 or 12 miles. When we get back from our weeknight runs, I will normally ask if anyone wants to go do it again. They look at me like I'm nuts, and maybe I am, but I'm just so darn happy to be out there running after I couldn't for so long. Now, I'm just running for me, for fun, for joy, for sanity, for clarity, for cookies and ice cream, for personal glory and for God's glory. Everything I've been through in the last 3 years, the emotional roller coasters, the break ups, the disappointments, the grad school and all the good stuff, the new friends and the self-love that I've discovered is all poured out in those miles that I've logged these past four months and all that's left is the most happy, confident, fast and strong Kelli that there ever has been!


This is a picture someone took on our 12-mile training run last Saturday at the Eden Park overlook. This was the 6th time climbing that hill in the past three months... it's easy now!

I'm so excited for the race to come and I'm sad that we have to start tapering and running less the next two weeks. I'm looking forward to running all 13.1 miles of the Pig course and I'm hoping its so much fun that I'll want to go back out there and do it again and again!!!

a year in my shoes

2014-03-29T19:12:00.000-07:00

I’m currently training for the Flying Pig ½ marathon in Cincinnati and it is time to replace my shoes. I typically get very excited to get a fresh pair of running shoes, but this year I’ve been dragging my heels a bit; my current pair of running shoes represents a lot of hard work, toil, pain, snot, sweat and tears. I had ACL surgery in July 2012 and wasn’t cleared for running until after it got cold out. I remember those first tentative jogs in one-minute intervals at LaSalle’s track on my way home from work. I was elated and terrified all at the same time. I felt so vulnerable and I realized just how much MORE work I had ahead of me if I was going to achieve my dream and run a ½ marathon as I had been planning to do later that year. If I could train for and run a 10k with a torn ACL, I could totally run more than twice that distance with a repaired one!

Once my muscles got used to jogging again, I was allowed to move from the track to the asphalt and gradually increase my milage. At that point, I treated myself to the newest version of my favorite running shoes: the Asics Nimbus! Last year’s version was wildly colorful and bright and they were just the encouragement I needed to put in even more hours at the gym and to start taking spinning and dancercise classes the gym to rebuild stamina and coordination in my right leg. I remember my first successful 2-miler—it was cold and rainy and I ran faster than I had ever before my surgery thanks to the new strength and power in my legs. I couldn’t have been happier. Unfortunately, I developed pretty severe patellar tendonitis and then runner’s knee which I spent most of the summer working to banish. I went thru two braces and tried a variety of exercises that were supposed to help my knee. In the end I credit the 500 miles and many hills that I biked over the summer with rebuilding the strength around my patella that has enabled me to run brace-free for months now.

So pretty, clean and colorful!! They totally make a girl run faster! ;)

This fall, I started building my miles again and speed soon followed. It also helped that I started treating my exercised-induced asthma that I realized I had after more than a few difficult hill-climbs on the bike that left me wheezing and winded for miles after. Through all of this, my shoes were there, providing the cushiness that my knee needed and the colorful speed that my legs craved and my lungs were finally able to give. Their wild colors elicited comments from older, awed onlookers who often cheered me on my way. I felt fast, strong, unstoppable in them. I had a few 5 and 6 milers during that time and was doing okay.

In December, I signed up for the Bob Ronker’s running spot ½ marathon training group and have been training for the ½ Pig since Jan. 11. I’ve run a lot of miles since then. Although I’ve been struggling with a hip issue since the start of training and can’t always log as many miles as I want, I have run every single long run and at least one week-day run. A few of them had to be logged from the safety and warmth of the gym, but I did them all. The 7 miler, the 15k (9.3mi) and today, the 10 miler. My bright shoes have carried me through all of those miles: providing traction on the ice, a bounce in my stride, a beacon in the dark and cushion to my nagging hip issues.

It was with some resignation that I went into the Running Spot to replace the shoes that have carried me from my first ½ mile back to my first double-digits ever. These shoes are more than a piece of footwear, they are an inspiration to me. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any Nimbus in my size (common problem for a size 11), but it was a good opportunity for me to try on a few other styles that the one I’ve been buying for the past 4 years. I still wasn’t sold though, I’m waiting for my Nimbus to come in, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!

While I’m sad that my current shoes won’t get to carry me across the finish line on May 4, I’m glad that they carried me along a significant portion of the course today and that they carried me from a beginning-again runner to a runner who is on the verge of running her first successful ½ marathon. Thanks for all the miles!!

Holy Guacamole!

2014-03-18T12:46:00.000-07:00

It is the end of the quarter, so naturally I'm looking for anything to distract me from the mounds of grading that I have sprawled across my executive-sized desk. The sun showed its face for the first time in days and whispered at me through the open windows that I need to share my guacamole recipe with the world. Spring really is just around the corner and maybe you want a fresh treat!

I don't mean to brag, but my guac is pretty good and I think a lot of that has to do with the manner in which I make it, which is anything but traditional. It is so smooth and creamy you won't believe there are no dairy products in it. On the flip-side it is also chunky and hearty; the perfect combo! The most important thing is the avocados. They MUST be ripe! You want the softer ones, not the hard ones. It's okay if there's a few brown spots inside, just cut out any big or bad spots. If they don't have any ripe ones, plan to make your guac a few days later, or just make something else. The biggest issue with guac is not getting ripe avocados.

You'll need to assemble all the usual ingredients:
1 lime, juiced (I just use the refrigerated stuff, but you can use a real lime too!)
1 garlic glove
1 T tightly packed cilantro
3 RIPE avacados
1/2 t cumin (I never measure)
salt to taste (I probably use 1.5-2 t of salt)
1/2 red onion, roughly chopped
1 ripe tomato, seeded, roughly chopped (in the winter I just use a 1/2 can of petite-diced tomatoes)

For the magic:
1. In a food processor (or blender), combine cilantro, garlic and 2 T of lime juice. Process until the cilantro is finely chopped.
Scrape down sides.
2. Add two avocados and process until smooth and creamy, about 1 minute.
3. Add cumin, salt and more lime juice to taste. (It should be a bit too strong at this point)
4. Add the final avocado, chunked and pulse 2x. Check to make sure you don't need to add more salt, cumin or lime juice.
5. Add the tomatoes and onion and pulse 2-3x, until your guac reaches desired consistency.

To keep it green:
There are several methods for keeping your guacamole green; I figure if each of them work, why not to all of them!
-Save 1-2 pits and put them in the bottom of the container and just scoop your guac right over them.
-smooth out the top and drizzle a little lime juice over the top so that most of it is wet
-cover the guac with plastic wrap and put the lid on your container!

My favorite chips to have with guac are the Tostitos Multi-Grain. Aside from being addictive by themselves, they have the perfect balance of flavor and salt to compliment the gauc!

ENJOY!!!!

Lenten fasts and resolutions

2014-03-10T12:48:00.000-07:00

I've made some pretty strange Lenten sacrifices in the past: there was the year that I vowed to only go the speed limit, which only lasted until I was late for work, two days in. Another year, I gave up baked goods, except for special occasions without realizing the only time one typically has baked goods is on special occasions. Then there was the year that I gave up listening to music in the car or on my own. I spent a lot of time listening to Jim Scott in the morning and my own thoughts in the afternoon. Everyone thought that one was strange, but that was the year of self-discovery for me, so it was a really crucial time and I needed a lot of alone time with myself and God. Another year I gave up talking about my plight of loneliness and singleness. That was a true test, but I thought all my friends really needed a break from me getting weepy on them every time I'd had a few sips of wine. Last year, I decided to be more patient, which I kept failing at, but decided that it needs to be a daily goal to practice, not just during Lent, so this year I'm going back to giving something up.

As a kid, we are encouraged to give up something, to sacrifice, but as I got older, I really tried to get more creative. I already have a lot of issues with Lent, like the fact that I love fish, especially if it is raw and wrapped in rice and seaweed and dunked in soy sauce and wasabi, or battered and deep fried. So, other than remembering that its Friday, not eating meat on Friday is actually a treat, not a burden. There were also those years that I tried to cut stuff out of my diet, or to eat less for Lent, but I have to question my motivation for that. Was I really sacrificing for Jesus, or was I just trying to lose weight for selfish reasons in a time when I was supposed to be focusing on the Lord and preparing myself for Easter?

This year, I'm actually going the old-fashioned route and giving up cake, cookies and chocolate. I have been craving these three things like a fiend and the urge to whip up a cake or bake a batch of cookies is so hard to fight. I went an entire month where I had at least one home-baked brownie every day. Then there's the chocolate that I keep stashed in my desk drawer that I surreptitiously grab out and go down the hall to what is essentially a closet to greedily eat in between classes. This is going to be hard for me, and I will waver and want to give in, and I might nibble on some stale cookie crumbs in the corner of the drawer or a few chocolate shavings on the counter, but I'll have ice cream to comfort me and I'll be okay.

Why ice cream, you ask? Well, spring is coming, I hate winter, and ice cream of the soft-serve variety is the promise of all that is good, warm and bright and if I don't have some outlet there aren't enough miles in Cincinnati for me to run to remain cool, calm and collected. Plus, I've already cut down my weekly beer consumption significantly, so I don't feel like Lent is a good time to increase that! Also, I don't crave ice cream like I crave those delicious concoctions of flour, sugar and butter. I'm doing okay so far and even managed to make a chocolate dessert for my sister-in-law without eating any, although I did have to taste test the chocolate-fudge sauce and a good thing too, because it definitely needed a pinch of salt!

I'm already planning out what baked goods I'm going to make, come Easter, but for now, I'll try to stay out of the flour and sugar and leave the unsalted butter buried in the back of the fridge.

Why wouldn't you crave something as delicious as this every second of every day??!!??

Ignorance truly is BLISS

2014-03-03T17:40:00.001-08:00

This past Friday, my school was off, so my friend, Mel, who teaches across the hall from me, and I decided that we needed to do something fun! Things have been a little stressful at school and everyone has been really cranky, so it was nice to have something fun to look forward to on our day off and away! We invited another friend, Ang, that we used to work with and her adorable baby son to breakfast at The Sleepy Bee in Oakley. If you live in Cincy, you need to check it out--it's awesome, local, fresh, warm and wonderful. Brunch with a baby and a friend who just returned from Florida and still had that sunshine glow was just what we needed to forget about the week gone by.

After breakfast, the two of us headed to the new Cinemark theater in Oakley (it was too early to partake in the great beer selection that they have!) to see The Monuments Men. We both really thoroughly enjoyed it. It was refreshing to just sit back and absorb some history for a few hours instead of figuring out how to get our students to absorb it, 85 minutes at a time. I actually found it pretty humorous, but seemed to be the only one in the theater who thought so. Granted, a lot of the jokes were made on the French, or towards the Americans in France, so I was a prime candidate.

However, the movie got me to thinking as it normally does: I would have enjoyed this so much more if I didn't know better. Life is Paris during the war was so austere that they would have been jealous of the Greeks' current situation. Consumer goods were hard to come by; coffee, hosiery, meat, rubber were scarce and expensive. Life in Paris in particular was so difficult that the French dug up all of their beautiful gardens to plant vegetables, they didn't have the same access to food that those in the countryside did. None of this was reflected in the film, and the main female character wore stockings and cooked meat. While this didn't detract from the movie, which I loved and will add to the list I give my students, it did take me out of the moment and linger with me afterward.

The same thing happens when I'm in a museum or at some sort of historical monument. Not only am I reading and looking for information, I'm also evaluating and analyzing how they summed up complicated history into something that can be understood by the average person who doesn't have esoteric knowledge of the subject. It is really no different than what I do every day. There are entire periods of history that I took entire courses on that I don't even mention to the Freshmen in my Modern World History class. It is more in-depth than is merited in that kind of a class, just like an entire monograph (book) would be too much when only a short paragraph will do in a museum. Even if I'm looking at an exhibit that I know nothing about, I still try to put it in context and NEVER take it at face value.

Not much surprises me because if I know something similar happened in Europe and the US, it isn't surprising that it happened in Asia after that. I especially love going to museums in Germany to see how they deal with Hitler and the Holocaust. One of my best friends, Al, drug me to the Mercedes-Benz Museum in Stuttgart and they simply focused on all of the money that the Nazis gave them to develop new engines and new vehicles that could be used for the war, but that would later have more practical and peaceful applications in a consumer society. I would love to go to Russia and see how they deal with Stalin and the gulags and the Great Purge, or even how they answer the question that my students keep asking: Is Russia a democracy?

In the US, we're very fond of living history, which I am SUCH a sucker for, but even how places like Williamsburg and Plymouth Plantation are created and run leaves a lot of questions about what is real or authentic or accurate. While I was in grad school, I made the unfortunate misstep of taking a public history class, which has forever tainted any historical encounter for me. Recreations can be very accurate, but they aren't real. However, the real thing is old and dingy and broken and so isn't very accurate or authentic any more. The arguments can make your head swim, but the important thing is to know going in whether you're seeing something as it is now, or as it was then. Probably the most authentic and accurate thing I've ever seen is the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam. It took me three trips to Europe and two very out-of-the-way train rides and the tiniest hotel room ever, but I made it there. We had some okay beer, almost got run over by a few bikes, walked over countless bridges, were astounded by everyone's English, had some really BIG pancakes and made our pilgrimage to the Secret Annex. The furniture has been removed, but the owners of the building demanded that everything remain just as it was, no furniture brought back in or anything, so there are simply the walls, floors and ceilings and the window that Anne looked out to see her oak tree, which has been sick and dying for years.

Knowing too much takes a lot of the fun out of it, but I still keep going back. I love museums and history movies and historical fiction. I really love historical fiction, it helps me put things into context of the typical average people so that I can help my students relate better. Although I know that there are a lot of issues with the way history is being presented, I will always seek it out, I will always expose my students to it and eventually my children as well. Even if it is tainted, it is done with the best intentions, we just need to realize to take it all with a grain of salt and enjoy it for it's value to our culture and heritage and to help us understand how to move forward.