What to say, now? Perhaps an homage to the sort of playing with cameras that we enjoy…or at least I enjoy, with the indulgence of my family members. Peter is responsible for this collection of KSN photos in the back yard, modeling the afghan as wrap/cape.
blocked, ready for use.
Every once in a while I start to wonder if we ham it up for the camera a little too much. After all, some of us are not getting any younger. Then again, it's terrific fun, especially for the self-absorbed. I'd also dare any of you, LFs, to do the same. Why not? In this instance, I'm rustling up the attention of my long-suffering spouse. One of the remedies to long term relationship blues is to simply ask for attention. It's so easy for us to focus lots of energy on self, on kids, pets, work, house, and forget about each other. So, on a Friday morning when I ask my spouse to take a few extra minutes to shoot these photos, I'm asking for attention, interaction, a laugh or too, and, thanks to the technology, a memory.
"This is going to look fabulous. I can wear it wherever I wish!"
Somebody warned, in an earlier post, that this afghan is too gorgeous to not convert to a wearable item. Now that it's finished, I sort of agree. It's main purpose will be to adorn my mid-century rattan couch, but whenever the fancy hits, I think I'll break out the "Harlequin Cape". why not? One hundred percent worsted wool, it's soft, not too scratchy, and warm. I'm fond of the colors. Chartreuse, coral, black, grey, white. Great midcentury colors, still classic today. I'm wild about the juxtaposition of classic vintage detail with modernity. In this case, the whole set-up looks hopelessly modern. The Harlequin Afghan time traveled to today and got stuck in a selfie-shoot and an outdoor affair.
"Go ahead. Just try to tell me what I can and can not wear!"
And so we have it. I can't help but try to synch the piece up with a pop song, and for some reason Hall and Oates comes to mind, again and again. If you see the cape around town, you'll know who it is. You'll also know what it is. And if you see me running/riding/sitting with this cape wrapped around my shoulders, you might even hum a few lines from a Hall & Oates song:
"It's up to me, what will be…"
"She's gone."
"What went wrong?"
"Face ain't looking any younger, now I can see, love taking her toll on me…"
And to quote the photographer: "I like seeing you argue with the camera!" There is usually a fair amount of arguing, but not without it's fun. Next installment of yarn madness, nobody knows. But there is a small chance that it will be painstaking, unique, and possess bit of whimsy.
Hardly time for a race report in ol' Door County. I love it here too much, and so little internet and computer time (thank the goddesses). But here's a bit of the fun that was thrown my way on Sunday the 22nd. After two weeks of "the itchiest summer in history" and no training whatsoever, I hauled my Iron-gear up to Egg Harbor and ponied up to the start line of a half-ironman. Here I am, getting ready to start the 1.2 mile swim. What's happening here? Dear friend, Jim, is shoving all of myself into my wetsuit. Obviously, Peter took the photo, so we're a wild a wacky family, but you knew that already, dear reader??? OF course!
If it's not fun, why do it??? (Ben, of Ben & Jerry's).
Practically six hours later and I'm done! You wonder, LF, what happened in between....but who cares? I'm done!!!!! 17 days of de-training and I can still finish this puppy with a smile on my face and abs intact. Lo and behold, it's a middle aged woman still having fun at her hobby!!! Take a look at the arm coolers, my attempt to stop scratching everything that itches, and it worked!!! The only thing that itched today were my quadriceps and that subsided as soon as that nasty blister popped up on my right, then my left foot (ouch!). It was Donegan to the rescue, again, who found me on the course and gave me his own darned socks. Now, Tri-afficionadoes, y'all know this is DQ territory, especially as my training buddy finished 7 more miles With Me. But heck if I care, I started with the last wave of ol' ladies at practically 9 AM and sheesh, no drafting and all I did was pass people on the bike and suffer on the run (duh, what else is new?)....so when Jimmy D. ran it in with me I called it a training workout and took it for what it was. Another day in Beautiful Door County with great friends and wonderful family....did I mention that Peter drove up for a mere 24 hours to be with me for race day? Where on Earth did I find this man? Only surpassing Jack W. Steward himself in the arena of loyalty. I think I'm in love, after all.
Here I go again, screaming: "wave fifteen, wave fifteen!"
Yes, just like Ridgeland Common!
So after a crazy July, I pulled in a 13th in my division and I'll take it. Pick up the training, run in Madison, and I've got a shot at another great Ironman. Maybe not blistering fast, but fast enough for the unencumbered woman, right on!!!! As Jilly says: "you really don't have to train that much." Ha Ha, but I sure was sore the next day!
And here I am, in the Door County Special Cooling Tank!!!! Yes!!!!! Forget WTC, and go with the boutique races! Only a week ago I was arguing with a race director about the need for ice for athletes. We had ice ALL DAY LONG and an ice tank for the finish line. NOW we're talking about return on those exorbitant race registration fees!
