tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63399892012-01-06T15:56:16.540-06:00"I cheated myself like I knew I would. I told you I was trouble. Yeah you know that I'm no good." Amy WinehouseCarrienoreply@blogger.comBlogger1291100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-87025131464005100632009-01-25T13:20:00.002-06:002009-01-25T13:29:34.526-06:00

This week I went to the inauguration, sardined onto the Mall with 2 million other very happy people. There were some serious crowd management problems, but no one seemed to mind too much (except the people with tickets who got shut outside the gates). I was close enough that I could see figures moving around who were obviously Roberts and Obama doing their thing. The crowd was loud and joyful

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-76664141296367690672009-01-02T16:48:00.003-06:002009-01-02T16:50:57.763-06:00

I'm trying to set some kind of winter sport decathlon record. Tonight it's ice skating with various kiddies. It's amazing how willing parents are to let near strangers haul their children away when they've been trapped in the house with them for a week. I learned to skate on figure skates but now I only use hockey skates. They're so zippy and sexy. You can change directions in a heartbeat.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-63065403173504156932009-01-01T20:17:00.002-06:002009-01-01T20:21:01.025-06:00

This afternoon while Bu went skiing, Andy and I rented snowboards and tried to make it down the bunny slope without hurting ourselves or others. I've boarded before and it went pretty well, until this kid fell right in front of me and I t-boned him in the gut. He acted like it didn't hurt but I think it must have.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-82031964330422054092008-12-22T15:28:00.002-06:002008-12-22T15:33:52.374-06:00

It's COLD here, I mean Norske-get-your-boots-on cold! Yesterday I persuaded the boys to bundle up and go Nordic skiing with me with the wind chill at 20 something below. Exhilarating! As long as you're dressed right the only thing that freezes is your eyelashes (soon to be remedied with ski goggles for everyone at Christmas). It's so cold no one comes out and shovels the sidewalks so you can

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-38718808956232505462008-12-18T10:24:00.002-06:002008-12-18T10:30:35.132-06:00

Ice, ice and more ice. I'm the only person in the office today because between the snowstorm two days ago and the ice storm predicted for today, no one wants to venture out. The roads would be a lot less dangerous if it weren't for giant SUVs whose drivers seem to think they're invincible and don't acknowledge that there's anyone else on the road. A white Sequoia backed full speed out of the

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-77521916030731650462008-12-14T17:19:00.004-06:002008-12-14T17:33:01.983-06:00

When you train for instrument flight conditions (i.e., you can't see the ground, or sometimes anything outside the plane), you put on some kind of contraption that blocks your view of everything but the instrument panel in front of you. They can look kind of like lab glasses with portions "fogged" out, or they can resemble an optometrist's torture device. So I take off and fly us to the

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-30001072490432049882008-12-07T16:01:00.003-06:002008-12-07T16:20:31.827-06:00

There should have been a flight today, but my windshield was icing up as I drove to the airport so the general and I called it off. For my instrument flight training I have to get checked out on a plane I've never flown, a Piper Warrior, because it has the instrumentation I need. It's not like driving a different car. Every plane's instruments are placed differently, its balance is different,

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-72322512336860063692008-12-05T16:59:00.004-06:002008-12-06T12:21:12.291-06:00

Getting back to the Road Scholar theme, if there ever was one. This weekend I have my first official Instrument Flight lesson, with the retired general who considers every flight another day at boot camp. At least he hasn't issued me a helmet with the call name Washout lettered across the brow. Yet. I've been reading the training manual with great enthusiasm. If your day job involved utility

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-81868526693132459742008-11-29T16:32:00.004-06:002008-12-05T17:21:29.499-06:00

This Thanksgiving is the first one without my dad. There's plenty I'm thankful for, but I wasn't up for a big family thing. Instead of eating I flew to Wisconsin through a gray haze and came back into a red radiant sunset. There's snow on the ground up there already. We threw some snowballs, drank hot chocolate, admired the ski runs from the air. It's a cold season and I'm cold all the way

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-35086323721442042972008-11-21T20:30:00.002-06:002008-11-21T20:32:46.685-06:00

Bu says I don't spend enough time with him. The irony kills me. I don't spend enough time with anyone, particularly myself, but if I spend quality time with anyone, it's him. He gets the best: all the patience and selflessness I can produce in a given 24 hour period while juggling everything else behind my back. Not enough time. If he only knew.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-18917220399070590162008-11-18T19:42:00.002-06:002008-11-18T19:49:33.485-06:00

I have bruises, little ones from the impact of a soccer ball, an elbow, a toe. Playing indoor soccer is dangerous, especially when it's with a bunch of hyper-competitive middle-aged men, several of whom are twice my size and have forgotten that shoving other players into the bleachers to get the ball would get them a red card if we had a ref. It just gets me going. It reminds me of playing with

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-69538392709580586842008-11-07T15:46:00.002-06:002008-11-07T15:54:28.200-06:00

Because I can't write any more testimony about energy efficiency until I rest my brain.1. My blueprint for success includes swallowing my pride and begging everyone for help.2. Ghirardelli Twilight Delight 72% Cacao was the last candy I ate.3. The best facial moisturizer I've ever used is C the Change from Kiss My Face.4. Sex can be good therapy.5. I'd like to tell you about the evil plan for the

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-10586623513779128692008-10-12T23:29:00.008-05:002008-10-14T15:11:36.265-05:00

Photos from an epic trip to Montana to get sworn into the state bar. Modes of transportation included a 1981 Toyota Celica, a Cessna 172, a Dodge sedan, a Cessna 172RG, a Toyota Camry, an old Dodge pickup, a Honda Civic hybrid, and a Dodge Caravan. The other people in the pictures are Josh Foersch, who used to be my flight instructor and now just gets dragged along on manic cross-country

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-79232485678569143702007-04-20T08:46:00.000-05:002007-04-20T08:57:09.313-05:00

Crazy but true. Here's how it went down. Back in 1995, Minnesota passed a law assigning a cost to carbon for purposes of utility planning (go Minnesota!). North Dakota, which sells a lot of coal-fired power to Minnesota, got worried that this law would hurt its in-state lignite coal industry. The western half of North Dakota sits on a giant bed of lignite, a very low-grade coal also referred

Carrienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-52779183658259455732007-04-19T15:56:00.000-05:002007-04-19T16:31:07.582-05:00

I don't mean that in the Don Imus way.I'm needed in Bismarck, ND, to argue a motion before an Administrative Law Judge on whether my client, Dakota Resource Council, can bring evidence about the future economic cost of carbon regulation in a proceeding for siting a new coal-fired power plant. It might seem like an obvious thing to consider, but the North Dakota legislature has taken care of that

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-17192352741137967352007-02-26T08:52:00.000-06:002007-02-26T09:41:51.538-06:00

We had a doozy of a storm over the weekend. First freezing rain, then horizontal snow, followed by more freezing rain and snow until the tree branches hung down to the ground with the weight of ice, and so did the transmission lines. Around 2:30 on Saturday afternoon we lost power. Often losing power is a delight: the candles, the quiet, the neighbors talking to each other because there's

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-71777682224315975992007-02-23T12:49:00.000-06:002007-02-23T12:51:36.867-06:00

give bread.To those who have bread,give the hunger for justice.Because you can't get to the hunger for justice, until your stomach is full.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-23506165663913173662007-02-07T13:21:00.000-06:002007-02-07T13:35:50.700-06:00

The roof fell in while I was away in grad school.Soft pine timbers gave under assaultby snow, raccoons and the insults of timeswing low the house of my great-grandparentsswing low.A low dry ridgeline from Absarokee to Columbusguards the bones of the homesteadthe dust of my ancestors' blood and sweat.In the hard years, they were all hard years,we took odd jobs, never even.My people have been:

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-49239684318333365242007-01-17T15:53:00.000-06:002007-01-17T15:58:18.844-06:00

I grew up on vertical snow, slanty at least, the kind you could slide down on skinny sticks, jumping off the bumps, flying through the trees, screaming as you went waaaaay too fast until the thrill of speed overcame the fear of death. A few days ago we got the first snow of the year here in Iowa. Of course the first thing I did was head over to the sledding hill to help the kiddies get started

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1379341933620865332007-01-08T13:28:00.000-06:002008-12-10T04:37:51.246-06:00

Maybe you're like me and wouldn't recognize David Lynch if he danced down a dark alley at you in an eerie pink glow surrounded by a troupe of dancing dwarves. If so, you are not like my friend Joan, who thinks he's one of the all-time geniuses, uses a photo of him for her computer wallpaper, and wishes her husband would grow old to look like him. Now that Joan has forced me to look at photos of

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1167760268208212542007-01-02T11:48:00.000-06:002007-01-04T18:30:19.363-06:00

In honor of my most loyal reader, a new post.2007 brings with it a new nonprofit organization, Plains Justice, conceived in hope and consternation, and dedicated to the proposition that the people and places of the Northern Plains deserve better environmental justice than they have been getting. We've got funding, a great board, and a lot of work to do. Back at it.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1162998236142096252006-11-08T08:59:00.000-06:002006-11-14T23:37:40.526-06:00

The woman in black has changed her clothes. Last night I watched Democratic candidates for whom I have volunteered, given money, written issue papers, and prayed, take House and Governor seats, win back the state legislature, and show the whole world that this country has both a heart and a head after all. I watched a woman from the most liberal district in the country become the next Speaker

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1155225622621621302006-08-10T10:57:00.000-05:002006-09-27T15:13:53.936-05:00

I was bornin the heart of the citymy ear up under its breastlistening to the arrythmic harmony. Little native Angelenain a warm October morningas the surf sighed and rolleda long walk away. The traffic sang for the hospital nurseryhorns, idling enginesthe hissing union of rubber and asphaltorchestrated like Debussy. Stars on the sidewalks, dust in the skyand a wise

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1153401362174508752006-07-20T08:08:00.000-05:002006-07-20T08:16:02.196-05:00

I find the photos of people evacuating Lebanon terribly moving. Part of it is the rush to abandon everything to preserve their lives, and part of it is this phenomenon of the industrialized world exerting its wealth to protect its own. We won't send troops - we won't stop the bombardment - but we'll send cruise ships to extract everyone with an American, Canadian, French, German, Swedish,

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1153254340592438682006-07-18T14:54:00.000-05:002006-07-18T15:25:40.823-05:00

Thank. God. I have finally gotten a firm leaving date at work and I'll be free as of August 11. It's been 13 months of the most depressive experience I hope to have in my life. Whatever else is out there for me, it's got to be better than this. I have an adjunct teaching job. I have a couple of book proposals to shop around. I have increasingly good prospects of opening my own public

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1149535456523448172006-06-05T14:13:00.000-05:002006-06-05T14:24:16.536-05:00

There's an article in the New York Times today about a cultural renaissance for Franco-Americans in Maine. What a long-overdue development. My great grandfather, Horace, born in Terrebonne, Minnesota in the 1880s, was the last francophone generation of our family. I bear his unspellable (to Anglos) last name. Horace refused to speak French to the children and grandchildren, and several of his

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1149089300212782692006-05-31T10:28:00.000-05:002006-05-31T10:28:20.230-05:00

Outside the Melbourne Tennis Centre at the tram stop, packed tight among half-drunk Aussies who’d just poured out of a late Australian doubles win at the Australian Open, I heard the chant begin. Someone on our platform shouted out “Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!”, and from the opposite platform the crowd took up the reply: “Oy! Oy! Oy!” Encouraged, the whole of our platform roared back “AUSSIE!

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1148488675125887172006-05-24T11:24:00.000-05:002006-05-24T11:43:39.113-05:00

There's an awning anyway.We sit with our feet in the sun but our heads outwatching the traffic on Shilohand the vet across the streethauling loads in a pickupworth more than Dad's trailer.I always come home.Flew in this timethat daredevil approach to the Rimsbecause I'll be driving outpiloting the Crown Vicup from the valley floor.My mother was born here.They say that's what counts -where the egg

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1148392061119475322006-05-23T08:44:00.000-05:002006-05-25T12:41:45.686-05:00

For those of you tuning in from the triathlon side of the world, here is the state of my training program:My next tri - a sprint - is coming up the first week in June. I've done this one twice before and placed in my age group last year. Right now I'm riding my bike a lot back and forth from work. It takes about an hour each way and means I fill up my gas tank much less frequently. Sometimes

Carrienoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1146776749637932082006-05-04T16:02:00.000-05:002006-05-22T17:02:19.100-05:00

My son will graduate from high school in 13 years. That's how long I reckon I have to wait to have a life again. I'm stuck for the interim in Buttfuck, U.S.A., unable to practice my chosen profession and suffering rejection after rejection as I try to get myself out of here. My husband doesn't want to leave. He wants to kick back, enjoy the small town life, drink strong coffee and grow his

Carrienoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1145302659397502282006-04-17T14:27:00.000-05:002006-04-17T14:37:39.433-05:00

You'll notice the magnolia first, blooming ardently this year, making up for lost time and the single earnest bud it gave the first year with us. The maple, dotted in maiden green, feeling the springtime lightness of buds before the baroque leaves come down. Snowdrops. The beginnings of all the varieties of lilies: tiger, plantain, day. Chives and garlic grass run perfectly wild across the

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1144774440523825702006-04-11T11:46:00.000-05:002006-04-11T11:54:00.536-05:00

Cannondale cycling socks, black, passable for work.Bally loafers, eleven years old, cracked across the sole.The transparent sheet of plastic my desk chair rolls over.Brown carpet, checked with a black and gray mark that could be a flower, if I squint.Concrete.Rerod.Steel beams, rusting. The building is far older than I am, with rot at its belly no doubt.Another lawyer beneath me.Below him a

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1143748210120214902006-03-30T13:49:00.000-06:002006-03-30T13:54:50.626-06:00

Sometimes I worry that I'm obnoxious. Then I think, naaaaaah.There's such a distance between what one person says and thinks and what another sees. We might as well be sending up smoke signals for all the actual communication that takes place, one humanoid to another.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1143050579163404342006-03-22T11:52:00.001-06:002006-03-22T12:02:59.176-06:00

You can have a dream sometimes that doesn't register as a nightmare until you look back at it and realize what was happening. In my nightmare last night, my husband had to go into a closed ceremonial chamber to bargain with two big fat black demons (more on my sublimated racism in a later post). When he came out, my son and I were ushered beyond the chamber into the public areas of a big old

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1140114240150922712006-02-16T12:18:00.000-06:002006-02-16T12:24:00.160-06:00

Not twice as much, but enough that it's noticeable on the monthly receipts. I get better benefits. I wear suits and hand out business cards. My husband wears pretty much whatever he wants and spends more time with our son than I do. My husband loves his job. On a good day, I don't hate mine. This seems precisely the reverse of the usual pattern. And while I don't love my job, I do like

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1140020754821875632006-02-15T10:25:00.000-06:002006-02-15T10:25:54.833-06:00

As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day, A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray, Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses, For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses! As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men, For they are women's children, and we mother them again. Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1139852212124004132006-02-13T11:24:00.000-06:002006-02-13T11:36:52.153-06:00

I thought we could be friends.We were children togetherin the same dusty western town.We fell down and cut our kneesand the wounds grew shutover the same sandstone gravelso we are part of the same earthen bodyin a way.I thought we could be friends.We are both poets.Our imaginations feed on the same soil:rocky, alkaline, good for nothing but grazing.The rimrock and the starry sky it upholdswere

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1139510872078288182006-02-09T12:43:00.000-06:002006-02-09T12:47:52.116-06:00

I've been reading several other posts talking about how smart young men really are interested in smart young women, and that's all grand in the urban areas where it's true. Out here in the sticks, though, sisters, it's not the same game. I'm a lawyer, and the young male lawyers my age (early 30s) are almost universally marrying down, either economically or socially and economically. Of the

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1137524468452989922006-01-17T11:31:00.000-06:002006-01-17T13:01:08.490-06:00

It began at the bottom of a shallow sea.Dried and flooded, a seabed, a wetland, a plain,Home to a swimming, sucking, crawling, breathingDarwinian daydream. Its bedrock hardened in the Mississippianand Devonian eras.That's 300 million years to you and me.And then came the glaciers.Down a smooth carved contourcame the rains.Washing geologic history toward the great riverbeginning the wait for a

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1137177046473028602006-01-13T12:28:00.000-06:002006-01-13T12:30:46.483-06:00

A qui me louer? Quelle bête faut-il adorer? Quelle sainte image attaque-t-on? Quels coeurs briserai-je? Quel mensonge dois-je tenir? - Dans quel sang marcher?- Rimbaud, Une saison en enferTo whom shall I rent myself? What beast must be worshipped? What holy image attacked? What hearts will I break? What lie must I maintain? In what blood walk?

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1136904251004953002006-01-10T08:43:00.000-06:002006-01-10T08:45:37.076-06:00

The relationship of a woman with her son turns theotherness of the male inside out. All our lives, menare alien creatures to be decoded, manipulated,interrogated, and if we can manage it in the face ofserious societal barriers, one day understood in somemeasure, loved, and truly partnered. A son is no partof that. Before my son was born, without benefit ofultrasound, I knew he was a boy. I

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1135953171605031802005-12-30T08:31:00.000-06:002005-12-30T08:32:51.616-06:00

In places where I can’t extract it, I am American, even when I do not want to be. Because I am not American in that don’t burn the flag, my way or the highway, my country right or wrong, dissent is dangerous, the downtrodden deserve the tread marks, and fuck the rest of the world kind of way. No. I am American in the old style, the way of my ancestors, those of the stern

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1135191862600108342005-12-21T13:03:00.000-06:002005-12-21T13:04:22.600-06:00

about her own people? Isn't it the ultimate betrayal?

Carrienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1135190313919168262005-12-21T12:18:00.000-06:002005-12-21T13:02:22.040-06:00

She lives at the end of a cul-de-sac in a middle-aged part of town, houses from the 60s and 70s with irregular lot lines and wide siding. Kids play hockey year round in the quiet street, rolling the net out of the way when a car comes through, then starting up with the shout of "Game on!" The neighbors consist of young families that have bought into the low-priced real estate and couples or

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1134584453163325672005-12-14T12:10:00.000-06:002005-12-21T13:00:39.413-06:00

They lie in high country, a sacred hunting groundringed by mountains with these names:Spanish Peaks, Tobacco Roots, Bridgers.I speak the names in the accent of the place.Their call is softlike the touch of cattails in the irrigation ditch,but clings like milkweed.I put it aside over and overthen find it before me.I am the seventh generationcome down through the years of sacrificethrough loss,

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1132609080139147182005-11-21T15:36:00.000-06:002005-11-21T15:38:00.153-06:00

you meet them on powwow weekendswhite girls mostlyhanging out at the souvenir shopsthe rich ones buy turquoiseI know enough to knowturquoise don’t come from around herebut I also know enoughto keep my mouth shut until the visa changes handsyou get no respect being localworking for survival wagesholding hard onto some scrap of landand I’m not Indianthey’d rather you wereit’s a disappointment they

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1124932981145529102005-08-24T20:19:00.000-05:002005-08-24T20:23:01.150-05:00

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'" - Jack Kerouac, On the

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1121783285178119872005-07-19T09:27:00.000-05:002005-07-19T09:28:05.186-05:00

Here is what I did not expect: to love enough; to persist when intensity outstripped diversity; to be enough, for anyone. Here is what surprised me: the ease of it all; the pleasure of warm air on bare skin in the lie-down, sit-still, feel the sweat trickle depths of summer; your touch. Here is what made me laugh out loud: ice cold water in Patty’s inflatable kiddie pool; the

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1098731960646168362004-10-25T14:10:00.000-05:002004-10-25T14:19:20.656-05:00

You know who the Toltecs were? They ruled in ancient Mexico. They were legendary builders, metalworkers and artists. The Toltecs intimately understood the movements of the planets and incorporated solar elements into their architecture. They had rulers with names like Cloud Serpent and warrior clans with names like Jaguar and Eagle. You can still go down there and see what we figure are

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1093892529023404692004-08-30T13:52:00.000-05:002004-08-30T14:02:09.023-05:00

I'm working with a strong wind to starboard, tacking to gain ground. Even when I sit still the movement is too much for me. I need more: time, rest, space. The stolen hours are never enough. I miss Australia, the sunburnt country, and I want time to stop. The future is imminent: the work I've worked to have, the home I've waited to find, all of it so big and real that I want to throw up a

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1091543751035720522004-08-03T09:28:00.000-05:002004-08-03T09:35:51.036-05:00

Today is my last day at the current firm. No triathlons are scheduled for the immediate future because we're flying off tomorrow for several weeks in Japan and Australia, visiting old friends. I may do a few late-season races when we get back, but the training is on the back burner at the moment. In very good news, I got an MRI and MRA to see if there's any abnormality in my brain that's

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1091221459180211882004-07-30T16:00:00.000-05:002006-05-15T02:57:43.150-05:00

Nice swim workout the other night, a good bike ride this morning with Andy and Bu as part of RAGBRAI, the (Des Moines) Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa. We did maybe 25 miles on the old, unsexy hybrids with Bu on his tagalong behind my bike. He wore his US Postal jersey and had a fabulous time. Toward the end he got tired and it started to rain, but he's only three. He can go the

Carrienoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1090938742388534302004-07-27T09:24:00.000-05:002004-07-27T09:32:22.386-05:00

Yesterday Andy and I went rock climbing outdoors for the first time.  We'd tried climbing walls before, but this was the first actual rock.  We went to Pictured Rocks park where you can climb limestone cliffs along the Maquoketa River.  A couple of local gurus (I keep discovering them) took us out.  One of them has come within 1500m of the summit of Everest, so I think he qualifies as a

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1090784584793328062004-07-25T14:37:00.000-05:002004-07-25T15:00:16.003-05:00

Yesterday, while over in France they were time trialing, I went out for a nice hard 40 miler with the local cycling guru Nor.  He rode a frame he got on Ebay that was actually ridden in the Tour back in the 70s, from a now-defunct Austrian manufacturer named Puch.  I was on Ananda as usual, my Terry Symmetry, which is a great training bike but has begun to hold me back in races.  It's a little

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1090507835751629262004-07-22T09:40:00.000-05:002004-07-22T09:50:35.750-05:00

That's what I say in the bike leg in a race, when I'm pulling up on someone or someone's trying to overtake me.  I lean over my bike like the cowboy in Hidalgo and say, "Okay little sister, let 'er buck," and we take off.  It's also evocative of my high school tennis coach, who had lots of inspirational and bizarre sayings, including 'let 'er buck', 'hey little girl, want some candy?', 'have some

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1090419404000672822004-07-21T09:06:00.000-05:002004-07-21T09:16:44.000-05:00

The father is safely in residence at the Iowa Veterans Home, which is by all appearances and reports the nicest place.  What a stroke of good luck that was, that it should be not only massively subsidized by the government but also a place you'd want to be.  I'm afraid we went out to dinner last night to celebrate, which felt odd, considering that in some lights I did just institutionalize a

Carrienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1090120118446835932004-07-17T21:31:00.000-05:002004-07-17T22:08:38.446-05:00

This morning I raced in the Iowa Games triathlon outside Ogden, Iowa.  I won't be getting splits on the legs or the transitions because they didn't use timing chips, and I don't think my official race time is right (it was over a minute more than what my watch showed at the finish).  But it was still a personal best.  The time I registered was 1:18:30 (theirs was 1:19:39), ten minutes faster than

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1089920447367353722004-07-15T14:36:00.000-05:002004-07-15T14:40:47.366-05:00

Yesterday was the firm's annual canoe outing. It was all great until I clubbed a partner with my paddle while trying to defend my canoe. That's just gotta qualify as a Career Limiting Decision. I took him to lunch today to make amends. It was a great time, but I'm sore all over from all the tree-climbing, rock-jumping-off, rope-swinging, canoe flipping, beer-drinking fun. Bruised everywhere.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1089753715530690322004-07-13T16:21:00.000-05:002004-07-13T16:21:55.530-05:00

running wet 

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1089743543075621602004-07-13T13:19:00.000-05:002004-07-13T13:32:23.076-05:00

Finally found the results for the Cornman. They'd posted them at a link on the Pigman site (go figure), so I had to google to find them. My time was 1:28:22 for 121st overall out of 221 competitors, 19 out of 48 women and exactly midpack in my age group. This is a few minutes faster than my Pigman time, plus my overall swim ranking was higher than I ranked for the bike and run! No way, you

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1089640425356471642004-07-12T08:48:00.000-05:002004-07-12T08:53:45.356-05:00

Cornman Triathlon was yesterday at Union Grove State Park near Marshalltown, Iowa. Next year, I propose, they ought to call it Rainman. Definitely. I still don't have my time or place because shortly after the race finished the rains came down, the main tent nearly blew away, and we all had to run for the nearest cinder block building for protection from the oncoming tornado. Andy got so

Carrienoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1089499004892607382004-07-10T17:31:00.000-05:002004-07-10T17:36:44.893-05:00

Yeah. I am getting my exercise my dropping middle aged lawyers like a bad habit on the bar association cycling outing. Their bikes cost twice as much as mine. I take that back - they cost twice as much as my car. They have wheels I would kill for. But I'm faster. By the time I think to look around, they're gone behind me over the last rise and I have nothing but open roads and green fields

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1089135339627246422004-07-06T12:18:00.000-05:002004-07-06T12:35:39.626-05:00

I woke up this morning half convinced my father was dead, so to snap out of it I went for a nice hard run up and down, up and down the only hill in town. It was this dream I had around four a.m. where a really scary witch doctor came to my house and threatened me with a long stick covered in dirty grave rags. I was scared, but not scared quite the way you would be if the grim reaper had come

Carrienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1088692636127039292004-07-01T09:05:00.000-05:002004-07-01T09:37:16.126-05:00

Not mine, unfortunately. I went down to the local pool for my swim last night and there were cars everywhere. Odd, since the pool was supposed to be shut except for lap swim, which an average of 3 people attend. The pool deck was packed with people. I walked in to check it out, and the local swim club was having races. Kind of nice. Kids of all sizes flailing up and down, lots of cheering,

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1088606983627265742004-06-30T09:45:00.000-05:002004-06-30T09:49:43.626-05:00

This last week I had the workout of the season. In six days I flew to Montana, cleared out my father's entire house, held a garage sale, got all his tangled affairs in something like order, and drove back out to Iowa with him. I slept on the floor. I dealt with constant and mind-boggling family craziness. I prevailed. It's now Wednesday and we've been back two days, but when I woke up this

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1087507773506825432004-06-17T16:25:00.000-05:002004-06-17T16:29:33.506-05:00

There's a half hour lap swim at our little local outdoor pool. Seriously, half an hour a day. Obviously no one is training for much of anything. At the end of the half hour they turn up the music and next thing you know small children with water wings are falling from the sky. It's an invitation not to take the workout too seriously, just show up and jump in every day and do your thing as

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1087349233734320912004-06-15T20:21:00.000-05:002004-06-15T20:27:13.733-05:00

I tried to run this morning and nothing happened. Well, I jogged painfully for about half a block, turned around, went back to the house, got on my cycling clothes and went riding instead. It's going to put a serious crimp in triathlon training if I can't run. This afternoon I saw the doctor about the headaches after swimming and the injured ribs. She says to try taking ibuprofen before I

Carrienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1087244321385759082004-06-14T15:14:00.000-05:002004-06-14T15:18:41.386-05:00

For my sins, my mother has come to town. Oh, I don't mean it like that. She's really perfectly harmless compared to my father, who has obviously been possessed by the sort of slothful alien who can be trusted never to take over the universe and go landing his spaceship on an aircraft carrier only to leap out in full Top Gun gear to shout in his unearthly tongue, "Mission accomplished!" Oh no,

Carrienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1087091173451067902004-06-12T20:45:00.000-05:002004-06-12T20:46:13.453-05:00

and full of the mind of God.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1086990006765442952004-06-11T16:37:00.000-05:002004-06-11T16:40:06.766-05:00

My Friday workout consisted of some light weeding in the garden this morning, chased by life-threatening mosquitoes. Tonight I will run around chasing Bu. I think that's about it. My ribs hurt, my knees hurt, I can't lie down on my left side. Maybe some cycling tomorrow morning if it doesn't hurt too much to lean over my handlebars.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1086875267189056632004-06-10T08:37:00.000-05:002004-06-10T08:47:47.190-05:00

A couple of friends from work took me mountain biking for the first time last night on the local trails in the hills around the lake. The trails are marked green, blue and black, like ski runs, and we did mostly greens and blues, then one black to see what it was like. Mostly I was fine and really liked it. However, about two minutes into the whole ride, on the first real downhill, I caught a

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1086790612533967542004-06-09T09:10:00.000-05:002004-06-09T09:16:52.533-05:00

I got my swim last night, but the pain and pressure in my head at the end of a workout isn't going away. It feels like I'm going to pass out or throw up. My goggles are so loose that at one point they actually came off in the water and I had to dive for them. I'm going to try wearing a different swim cap tonight. In a moment of weakness yesterday I bought Bu a little US Postal team jersey,

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1086703820380793302004-06-08T08:57:00.000-05:002004-06-08T09:10:20.380-05:00

Last night was the first night we threw all the windows wide open and still couldn't get enough cool air. It had gotten cool enough by morning to be comfortable, but it will only get worse from here on in. I miss the high, dry country where no matter how oven-like it gets during the day, the land releases the heat at night. I woke up very early and did yoga. I feel a little sore, but strong,

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1086621068343617222004-06-07T10:06:00.000-05:002004-06-07T10:11:08.343-05:00

Yesterday was the Pigman Triathlon at Pleasant Creek Recreation Area outside Palo, Iowa. I came in 11th out of 29 in my age group (one of the most competitive apparently) and 243 out of 486 overall with a time of 1:30:36. Dead on middle-of-the-pack, but the pack was mostly men so I don't feel so bad. Actually I feel great. The wetsuit made me much faster, so that my swim didn't really drag

Carrienoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1086358016643815432004-06-04T08:56:00.000-05:002004-06-04T09:08:21.883-05:00

Took the new wetsuit out to the lake for a trial run last night. It was great. Fit great, felt great, kept me warm, made me faster, all that good stuff. The swimming was a little weird, though. The flooding has made the beach disappear, but the buoy lines are still up, so the water was silty and opaque. Power boats kept buzzing by and setting up wake. The overall effect was a little like

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1086274088331316162004-06-03T09:48:00.000-05:002004-06-03T09:48:08.330-05:00

Pedy the dromedary 

Carrienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1086273987126822522004-06-03T09:08:00.000-05:002004-06-03T09:49:51.310-05:00

I'm messing with the template. The old one was a little too pale, but now of course I've lost all my customizations. Easy come, easy go. We'll have to see if the comments are working. This morning, ladies and gentlemen, I took a walk. It was a very nice morning. I'm still exhausted from my dad's visit. We all are. Bu slept over 12 hours. The other big news is that I went ahead and bought

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1086033588488454602004-05-31T14:52:00.000-05:002006-05-15T04:14:39.373-05:00

Beautiful day. We went to the Boy Scout pancake breakfast at the fire station this morning, saw the parade, and Bu got to bond with real live firefighters, climb in a truck, all that and a bag of goodies. The parade consisted of the Boy Scout color guard and the high school marching band, which ain't big, let me tell you. The whole thing was over in 5 minutes. It was such a big morning that

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1085772110342010742004-05-28T14:19:00.000-05:002004-05-28T14:21:50.343-05:00

I do this workout once a week and it never gets much easier. I hope it's because I keep pushing it harder. I fear it's because I'm making no progress. I'm doing more than I used to, so that's something. Planning some lake swimming for the weekend. It's too gorgeous out today. I need to tie myself to the chair like Ulysses tied himself to the mast to resist the Sirens. Sirene is French for

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1085609572578135302004-05-26T17:12:00.000-05:002004-05-26T17:27:04.430-05:00

Sophie 

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1085596544996295902004-05-26T13:33:00.000-05:002004-05-26T13:35:44.996-05:00

A half hour on my bike this morning, probably just short of 20k. I'm doing the same road a lot so I'm getting a good feeling for how far I've gone even if I forget to check the computer. My bike makes me happy. Also, my husband has promised to do Beefcake Yoga with me as physical therapy for his wonky knee. He also promises to wear a speedo a la Rodney Yee if I keep the room really warm and

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1085515558530811402004-05-25T15:02:00.000-05:002004-05-25T15:08:14.666-05:00

Did some yoga this morning, felt a little better. My husband checked out a yoga video for me by this guy named Rodney Yee who apparently runs the If You've Got It, Flaunt It School of Yoga. He does the whole thing on the beach wearing nothing but snug little black briefs. He's probably a gay icon I haven't heard of. The tape was for beginners and extremely wimpy. I need some kick-ass yoga at

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1085408973553462202004-05-24T08:57:00.000-05:002004-05-24T09:30:35.186-05:00

We put Sophie to sleep yesterday. She was lying in the shade of an apple tree at my in-laws' place with me, Andy, Bu and Nadia, the vet. My brother-in-law and father-in-law had dug a hole before we arrived, because that's all they could do. Neither one of them could watch. I knew that I had to. As long as she was with me Sophie never willingly let me face any danger or trouble alone, and if

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1085204628521383712004-05-22T00:42:00.000-05:002004-05-22T00:46:56.183-05:00

My mother never let me see such things. She gave away my dogs before they reached old age. One needed more room, she said. The other we weren’t taking care of properly. They disappeared while I was at school. “They’re better off,” she said. It is new to me, then, to see a dog I love grow old and die. I am a stranger to this pain, the slow immolation, the struggle. Sophie has become weak

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1085157628504204742004-05-21T11:31:00.000-05:002004-05-21T11:40:28.503-05:00

Bu is well already, but the vet had bad news about Sophie. She's down to 83 pounds from her usual 120+, and the lump in her nose is cancer. Nadia the vet suggests that we put her down. It breaks my heart, but it also breaks my heart to see my girl suffer. Nadia's going to come out to my in-laws' place to give Sophie the injection so that we can bury her right there, next to Bu's horse

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1085063016918107432004-05-20T09:20:00.000-05:002004-05-20T09:23:36.920-05:00

Not for me, fortunately, but little Bu is out of preschool for a few days with a nasty case of strep. His glands are so swollen that he looks like one of those desert lizards that swell up their necks to scare off predators, poor little bugger. He's acted like he felt really sick a few times, but mostly he's very perky and loves his new Candyland game. Sophia the Ancient also goes to the (

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1084888173176483162004-05-18T08:42:00.000-05:002004-05-18T08:49:33.176-05:00

Finally went for a swim yesterday. Shannon picked me up and we were going to meet Russ and Monica at the Y to go with them as guests but - uh-oh - they didn't show up. Instead we went to the public indoor pool. I usually go to the Iowa City pools so I'd never been there, and now I'm glad I hadn't. It was small and overcrowded, too warm, and very high on the chlorine. My head was throbbing by

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1084806848295124262004-05-17T10:03:00.000-05:002004-05-17T10:14:08.296-05:00

June 6 is the Pigman Triathlon in Palo, Iowa, not far at all from home. The fam and I drove up there yesterday morning to check out the course along with a first-timer triathlete from near Dubuque. Malvey came over with his family, so the non-competitors got to hang out. We did the bike and run as a brick and Malvey did some swimming afterward. I haven't bought a wetsuit yet so I wasn't ready

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1084379951749778692004-05-12T11:35:00.000-05:002004-05-12T11:39:11.750-05:00

Long run this morning. Things got a little off track yesterday because the husband and I went out for a fabulous evening of salsa dancing and margaritas on Monday night that left me a soggy mess for work yesterday and not at all keen to buzz off for an hour's workout. I made up for it this morning by running almost an hour, way out past my favorite farm, getting buzzed by scary, territorial

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1084195816794915802004-05-10T08:25:00.000-05:002004-05-10T08:30:16.793-05:00

Crazy ride this morning. I got out early, about 10 to 6, expecting at least a good hour on the road. Wonderful warm morning with very little wind, which turned out to be what's known as the calm before the storm. I got about 10 minutes north of town when I started to see lightning and a few minutes later the sky opened up. Ananda and I spun around and raced back for town, only to ride out of

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1084155013922851042004-05-09T21:03:00.000-05:002004-05-09T21:10:13.923-05:00

Mother's Day. Five of us went canoeing on the Maquoketa River, didn't see another human the whole time but there were great blue herons, hawks, big brown turtles, trout, deer, and beaver. Vinicio fished with an antique rod and I found an antique bottle at the bottom of the river. Bu was afloat with enthusiasms and eager to race the canoes. The thunderheads came in just as we got out. No

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1083948480142585672004-05-07T11:40:00.000-05:002004-05-07T11:53:42.233-05:00

Big storm last night. It woke us up. I was wondering if the bike ride this morning would be possible, and when I woke up it was windy and cold. I thought about cycling. I thought naaaaaaah. I thought about running. My legs hurt. While I was thinking, I was getting dressed, putting on my fleece and my running shoes. I didn't want to do anything. Finally I thought, I'll just go for a walk,

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1083864158089053842004-05-06T12:18:00.000-05:002004-05-06T12:27:36.966-05:00

Same old same old. I did the run/weights/run workout yesterday. It's a good 50-60 minutes and usually wears me out. My legs were hurting the rest of the day, and it seems self-defeating to give myself massages. I try, but it doesn't help much and it makes me more tired. This morning I gave myself a break from working out, and I think Bu and I will go over to the track this afternoon. He

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1083678755608471492004-05-04T08:48:00.000-05:002004-05-04T08:56:31.060-05:00

I did yoga yesterday, then a half hour easy run this morning. Still fairly knackered from the bike ride, and I've been going after it pretty hard in my workouts recently. I think this will be an easier week.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1083621570962460962004-05-03T16:55:00.000-05:002004-05-03T17:03:37.983-05:00

We did the 48 mile intermediate loop in Illinois on Saturday. Plenty of hills, plenty of speed, but Elizabeth, IL could use a few good vegetarian restaurants. I wound up eating a burger because I was starving and it was that or grilled cheese made with Velveeta. Have I mentioned yet that I'm not big on processed cheese? But the ride was grand. I was keeping up with the whizzy boys on the

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1083339436768117882004-04-30T10:32:00.000-05:002004-04-30T10:41:34.983-05:00

Up at 5:45 this morning for a nice run around town. Literally. I run around my town. It ain't that big. Out along the trail along the quarry pond, past the cemetery, along the creek, over behind the ball field, across the tracks, beside the college and back home past the high school. A long coal train came through around 6:30 and I got to run over it on the little ped bridge. If you stand

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1083248710567488392004-04-29T09:18:00.000-05:002004-04-29T09:29:27.483-05:00

I'm getting in on a lot of them lately. You first start to see light about a quarter to six, so I hop on the bike and head out the road to the north of town, the quietest one around here. There are a few people coming into town early, but not much traffic going out. Peaceful. Sightings this morning: Red-wing blackbirds, doves, robins, sparrows, rabbits, squirrels and a massive dead raccoon.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1082990040623867552004-04-26T09:31:00.000-05:002004-04-26T09:38:13.310-05:00

I really need to do more swimming, but it's so fantastically inconvenient without a pool nearby. This weekend I had a long run, a medium-ish cycle, dancing, softball, and generally so much physical activity that it's now Monday morning and I need a nap. Next weekend is Ride the Ups & Downs in Illinois and I'm going over with the local bike gang. Sounds like fun and we're praying for good

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1082667492443075892004-04-22T15:56:00.000-05:002004-04-22T16:02:19.640-05:00

Went for a run this morning to loosen up my sore legs. That weight workout definitely hit the right muscles - I could feel them every step. Plus I had a blister from wearing stupid girly shoes yesterday. Even in my compromised state, though, I saw the sun rise over open fields and all was well.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6339989.post-1082566700476090792004-04-21T11:55:00.000-05:002004-04-21T12:02:26.106-05:00

Yoga again this morning. I was planning to run but it was nasty cold wet windy awful out and my legs were still hurting from weights yesterday, so I got out ye olde yoga dvd and followed along with Philip, who is apparently Gumby's long lost white boy twin. I do feel better. Maybe I'll get that run tonight. I also got a nice long walk in high heels while running a few errands this morning.

Carrienoreply@blogger.com0