Not exactly a workout ...

This, a particularly dismal week for ironman training. Yet another day lost to family obligations and work. The best workout of the day? A rousing game of capture the flag at work. I'll take it! Fun...and I'm not quite yet 44!

Matzoh Brie!

Early this morning, Michael reminded me that today is the day to order Matzoh Brie, not just any ol' day.  I laughed and insisted that I would definitely eat Matzoh Brie for breakfast. Following a vigorous swim we always go to Manny's Deli on Fridays. In my defense I did insist that Ruth Reichl swears by Matzoh Brie as an anyday comfort food. Nonetheless, when Michael ordered his meal, he said that he felt especially happy just doing so.

"I felt happy when I was ordering!"

Beauty Knows No Pain, or so Season 1, episode 18 Magnum P.I. is called.  I was out running today and I thought that maybe "one day at a time" can carry me to Ironman Wisconsin without too much embarrassment.  After all, that's sort of what Magnum P.I. did in 1981.  Take the time to watch this Hulu video. Talk about old school.  I've cut to the final scene when Magnum is actually racing Hawaii Ironman.

Proof of what we know to be true.

How often do we sit around, idly believing something that we know, absolutely, to be not true?  Take, for example, a swimming pool's gigantic proportions. We might be able to say that an olympic size pool contains 600,000 gallons (2271247.06 liters) of water, but how many of us really believe this?  And the color. I remember spending hours when I was a child, sort of splashing water against the wall of the pool, trying to get a glimpse of that white painted wall.  No matter how well I know this, I still can't believe that the tiles in the pool that I usually swim in are, well, white!!! This morning I decided to document proof.  Proof that this sucker is one huge pond, and that it's a white, white container!!!!  Can't wait 'til it's clean and tidy and filled with that blue water again!

Scenic Chicagoland Cycling

 As I put the finishing touches on my two pages dedicated to a bike trip thirteen years ago, Peter opened his mouth to share with me the fact that he believes that perhaps my blog, this blog, is falling off-message.  Is it not, he said, about adventures in the Western Suburbs?  Well, yes...but also it is called the unencumbered woman and how do we discuss the unencumbered woman without addressing the fact that I, like most other people, toil daily at both the mundane and dramatic workings of life.  I can't help but think maybe he has a point, but I never was much at sticking to just one topic...

docking area for trucks

So with an interest in bringing my musings back to adventures in the Chicagoland area, I decided to take a few pictures during my bike ride today.  It was a fairly nice afternoon, although some would say that it was a bit on the windy side. 

onward to Lemont

our little incident...

destination Plainfield Starbucks. Forty miles from home.

Why I chose these pictures, most likely times that I was off the bike.  I did stop at the docking area  because there is an eerie beauty to some of the industrial/transportation landscapes that we ride by on our usual routes. 










Some might remember the sawhorse that jack smashed into this summer. Now the pothole/sinkhole has been patched.


This Starbucks is nestled in a sort of hideous walmart/red robin/strip mall complex, but it's part of my routine.  Something to look forward to, on a long journey that is tough whether I'm alone or with friends.  Today I sat at a table and enjoyed the solitude of the moment, and thought about all the stuff churning around in my head.  I sent a text to Peter, saying that my journey would easily take the entire day, given my slow pace.  On the way back home I ran into a guy from Western Springs who helped me pick up the pace for a few miles, but at the Glen I cried uncle. Who am I kidding? I hardly ever ride, anymore! Making it home at a modest pace is the most I can hope for. So I pulled off, resumed my pace and rode home with the wind at my back.

Authenticity, anyone?

As some people know, I sometimes wonder how I can be at home in a place like Chicagoland. But then there's always a moment with a view like this. Driving down Ogden (Route 66) and this Pontiac pulls out in front of me.

All dressed up and no place to go

Some loyal readers might wonder how an unencumbered woman juggles youth sporting event commitments with own training schedule and other activities of daily living. Here I am, on a sun splashed Saturday waiting for mate to return home so that this photographer wouldn't be left alone. Time got a bit tight, so I rang the next door neighbor's bell and asked if Ashby could stay there for a few minutes.

And so it goes.

Our lady no more.

I should have known better than to leave her on the yard...oh well.

Our Lady of the Play Yard

Look who was out on the play yard to greet me this morning for outdoor Physical Education class! Only in Berwyn.

What is the unencumbered woman?

Addie, photo credit.

 I've always said that the unencumbered woman is more an aspiration than an actual person or self.  I pondered this today, considering that I've lapsed deep into cataloging my exploits as a daughter of aging parents.  Hardly a vision of trouble free living, indeed.  Nevertheless, there must be a way to experience life's rollercoaster ride with a view on not being hindered by the sorts of worries, drama, resentments and aches that plague us all.  Naturally, we all have good days and bad days.  Equally, there are many who deserve much more room for ache, hurt, stress and worry than many others.  One of my latest strategies for relaxation is to take care of some long awaited improvements to the interior of my home.  I've been sleeping on garage sale and hand me down linens since college (literally).  So I finally went to Garnet Hill and I bought my first Garnet Hill set of linens and duvet cover.  I won't even link to GH because it's such an embarrassment for me to buy brand new bed clothes anywhere but Sears or JCPenney, but this shows how much lift my own current crisis calls for.  I must say, I'm happy as a clam up in our snug, tidy, bedroom.

This formerly white rocker was my great-grandmother's and it sat in her bedroom on Wasco Street in Portland circa1920-1960.

And then the front porch.  If there ever was a time for a short list of people who don't make me frustrated or angry, it's now.  Along with immediate family, Jim has been there for me on a constant basis for I don't know how long. When he offered to help me paint chairs and floor of front porch, I flipped.  It's about time!  I planned it so I came home from our last trip with all the work finished.

Needlework corner!

Game corner!

The little tables were sort of a last minute decision and I'm so glad we decided to paint them.

KRVM, again and again

I know I've said it before, but I don't know how to describe how enormous is the gift of terrific music programming on public radio in Oregon! I LOVE KRVM and that's all there is to it. According to one news report, twenty percent of KRVM's budget comes from the federal government, so when it comes time for all of us to dig even deeper into our pockets to support radio, I know where my pennies are going.  When I jumped into the car to run some solo errand on Saturday, my last day with Mom and Dad, there it was, a program called Magical Mystery Tour.

Memo Book

Last day of this trip. Never enough time. I managed to sneak away to my favorite ocean overlook on the way back from Fred Meyer (I wanted to replace Dad's memory book, which was destroyed in the laundry). I was ready to take a shot of myself, when a gentleman in a red felt hat offered to do it for me.  He was a quick study in the art of smart-phone photography. I noted his Elks jacket and asked if he was a member of the local lodge and does he know Dad (yes, and of course he does).  So as I'm composing my blog post in my head, Andy throws open the rear of his van to show me his handmade carved myrtlewood crosses.  He wants to give me one, and all I have to do is sign his memory book.  We talked about the weather, my dad, and the fact that the overlook was he and his wife's favorite spot.  We exchanged hugs and that was that.

TBFTGOGGI

So we got the call in the middle of the night that Dad had fallen and was en route to hospital, most likely not serious.  Dad was downright giddy at Peace Harbor...singing "Three O'Clock in the Morning..." I reminded him that he always fooled me on April First.  Quick as anything..."Look! There's Mom!" He can still get me.  When I get back to Regency I learn that there was a malfunction with the alarm that alerts employees when he's up and about...oops!
These folks are well-intentioned and over-worked, but perhaps someone was busy toilet-papering the administrator's office and forgot to plug Dad's alarm
in.  I know, I know, someone would turn this into an opportunity to get indignant and outraged...but my response is more of a shrug....another day in eldercare....there but for the grace of god go I.

And how about a recent Regency grad?

It's all about drive & determination.