Finally Free

I made a deal with Nelson a few weeks ago. On the day we normally set up chairs at church by ourselves, I'd do it by myself if he'd get me started and if he'd take the offer to participate in the Easter musical at Crosswinds. To help you understand how much confidence I have in his ability, let me explain. Once a month we set up over 600 chairs and together it takes us about three hours. I knew I could do it but I had to have him "start me" as my depth perception and vision problems make it too hard for me to get the alignment right. If started right, though, I can then maintain.
But I've degressed. Back to my story. A church member wrote the script for this performance, which includes drama, dance, music and, both humorous and emotion-impacting scenes. Nelson can sing and dance, and since he was promised that he wouldn't have to speak or sing, I thought this would be a way for Nelson to ease into the worship arts at church.
Well to quote a mutual friend of ours, a bit of "bait and switch" has occurred. Once Nelson acted out the part he agreed to, he also learned a dance step and will be singing with the "crowd". Instead of stepping out of his comfort zone he's been launched into outer space. (He's doing well though. He's learned a lot).
After setting up chairs a couple weeks ago, I snapped several pictures in an effort to catch the comaradarie and excitement, but the lighting wasn't conducive to picture taking and the click-flash of my camera was too distracting. I did keep this picture of Nelson (alias Matthew) as he, the other disciples danced into the ministry center, while practicing a scene.

"Gigunda" Caterpillar

This giant centipede was slithering alongside the end of Ketchum Road, near South Bristol last week. It was "crawling" so slowly that it appears to have provided a resting spot for a heron (center).

Potted sunshine

Potted sunshine brightened my mood as I arrived at my desk Tuesday morning. Dawn, the Christian ed director, dropped the plant off the day after I had told co-workers I'd gotten my first "B". In contrast a couple years ago when Mom died, I received just one card, nothing more. The only difference between now and then is the intensity of the pain and the companions I keep. How much easier the grieving would have been with friends like I have now.

179th

I just checked my church's web site to see what's new (crosswindsonline.org) and saw a link to the church's annual Labor Day weekend 5K road race. The course ends with a demanding hill. The sponsors think the course is becoming popular among runners because it's a challenging course. I didn't start running till I was 46; last year's attempt at the Crosswinds 5K was my second race. Here's my stats, copied from the 2005 race results on the church's web site: 179 out of 311 runners participating.

179 Anieta McCracken Canandaigua NY 48 16 F 40-49 29:51 9:38/M

But here are stats even more important than those and a reminder of why I keep running. I just gave a pint of blood Friday evening. My stats were: blood pressure 116/60, pulse 67 (before I started running my pulse was always between 90 and 100). My weight has dropped from 157 to 125 (I had gotten down to 110, but gained some over the winter). Outside of a few asthma attacks this year, I've been well all winter. Thanks be to God for the gift of health. God is good, and sometimes He even lets us see it.

Curly Hair Curse

A disability combined with my desire to put my daughters first, kept me out of the job market for a time. Then the girls grew up and the disability healed. During the time out, however, techology had changed, while my career skills had not. So a year ago I went back to school. Alas! I've since learned that the studying (even though my cumulative G.P.A. is 3.86) may make no difference. The problem (according to a recent MSN career article and a couple other articles that I've read) is that everyone knows that women with curly hair are irresponsible and unreliable. One lady, in protest of such stereotypical assumptions, has begun wearing her curls in a pony-tail (as opposed to the tight bun that got her the job).
The article reminded me of my high school days. There was my little sister with the perfect strawberry blonde hair hanging neatly in a controlled and flowing mane and me with the uncontrollable mop. (That's me in the photo that Nelson took last week). I remember Mom would sometimes pick out the mass of tangles at the nape of my neck for me. I've thought about cutting it, but then it gets even more unruly. And I don't want to spend my days fussing with straighteners.
Actually now that there's wonderful stay-in conditioners and such things to make curl care more manageable, I've pretty much made peace with my locks. Mom helped; she thought both of us girls were beautiful (ahhh! Mothers!). I haven't, however, made peace with the authors of these career articles.
Suggest buns and ponytails for a more professional image, but please don't tell us that curly hair projects irresponsibility. Don't make us helpless victims. Job seekers can't do much about the texture of their hair, nor can they add to their stature, change their gender or the color of their skin. We can, however, be punctual, and add career and academic skills. Put the focus on the things that can be changed, not the things that can't.

St Pat's

In the top photo Nelson's about to feed a hunk of corned beef to Camelia -- that seems to be part of the tradition when the three of us gather ... lots of jovial food sharing and very little concern about germs or manners.
Knowing how much I enjoy the traditional St. Patrick's Day meal, Nelson picked out the corned beef brisket and a head of cabbage to help celebrate. Last night I plopped the meat in a soup pot, added cabbage (that wouldn't stay in wedges), quartered potatoes and pot-roast-style carrots. After baking in the oven for five hours, I carefully pulled out a hunk of the juicy red meat and split it with him. The best ever!
When Camelia showed up a few minutes later, I handed her a sneak preview of the upcoming meal.
There's just nothing like good friends to share a special day with ... and speaking of special days, my daughter and son-in-law have had a week of special days.
The Angora goats on the farm where Anna Maria spends a lot of her time just gave birth. Soon they'll be producing wool for the farmer-owner and Anna Maria to spin in yarn for more craft projects. Those and photos of animals and insects as you've never really seen them below are on his web site at: http://homepage.mac.com/steverinojohnson/iblog/
Be sure to follow the link to the news article describing the art show where the photos were displayed, too.

Halfway

Just finished my fifth term at Kaplan U -- five more to go. Up till now I had a 3.9 GPA. A final score of 86.93 percent in civil litigation will drop that, but, hopefully, not too much since the final grade in family law is 94.7%. (I'm not mathematically savy enough to translate the percentages into the new G.P.A.)
That B on a page of solid A's is tormenting me, but as my little bro has often reminded me, a "B" is still above average.
"Let it go, McCracken, let it go," I tell myself. "Off to the Y for a mind-purging and re-energizing run."
A new term with its own challenges begins in just one week. It's time to start prep-ing.

Too late

Carefully I set the camera on a nearby rock -- just so. Focus. Hit the timer. Run. Oh, oh!
"Bart! quick turn around."
Too late. Another shot of Bart's butt.

Ahhh....this is better. Good one of Bart's daddy, too.

Chasing Waterfalls

Onanda Park -- a great place to hike up waterfalls or sit on an overlook and gaze at Canandaigua Lake.

Last Lap

I awakened this morning with a brain on hyperdrive ... I had just finished the last week of the term. My saturated brain couldn't focus, but wouldn't shut down either. As my friend Kris says, the synapses were misaligned and firing at random.

So I headed for Ontario Pathways -- down East Street, onto the trail, across County Road 4 till the trail crosses County Road 10 and then back again.

I was hoping to see some sign of spring, missing the most obvious one looming above my head. There were shadows (top photo), and shadows come when an object blocks the sunshine -- something New Yorkers see very little of in the winter, and less than usual this winter. I looked up and saw the big golden orb shooting rays onto ground still soaked from yesterday's drizzle.

I nearly walked past another. Crocuses had pushed through the ground in front of Sonnenburg Gardens (middle photo).

The last lap of winter sneaked in. Now very soon, just beyond the last curve, the finish line looms, and with it, a chance to get better acquainted with my new bike, a chance to run in the sun, a chance to hike waterfalls and hills and, maybe, a chance to kayak a stream or two.

Bonding with Bart

This is Bart after a 2.5 mile run -- too pooped to even gnaw on his bone, but very content.

I've basically ignored poor Bart over the last few weeks. I take him out just long enough to pee, and bring him back in. If he's lucky, I walk him to the end of the block and back (all of about 5-10 minutes at most). My lame excuse is that it's been cold, or I've been in a hurry, or I'm just back from the Y and my still-damp hair's starting to freeze. Today, however, knowing he was way overdue for a jaunt, I promised him a good long "out". A Terrier-Pomeranian mix, Bart only weighs 15 pounds, so I didn't expect much. Besides that our walks are often a bit frustrating for me. Usually I get pretty impatient when we walk because he's a peeing machine, whether he has any ammunition or not. Stop - start - stop - start. I thought I'd run till he was tired, then walk the rest of the way. He'd be happy and I would manage to maintain an easy workout day.

Instead his Terrier side came out in full force. He just kept going and going, minus about 4 quick squirts on a nearby tree. Nothing else distracted him. Earlier in the day Nelson had taken him for a long walk, so I guess Bart had gotten most of his desire to pee on every fire plug and tree out of his system. His pace and the look on his face told me that he was saying, "Finally! It's about time I got to get my wiggles out." I'm sure we ran about 3 miles, because I didn't slacken my pace much.

He did slow the pace a bit during the last half block, but by then he had so many brownie points that I didn't even care. I rewarded him with a "bone", dry dog food and canned food.

I never dreamed a dog this size could become a running partner. I think I'll take him with me whenever an "easy run" is on my schedule. He was good company, and he kept me from running too hard on this, my first real pre-spring, late winter outdoor run for the year.

Feeding the Birds

When people hear the term "feeding the birds", they imagine a scene like this first one (taken at Canandaigua Lake a couple Sundays ago). Nelson had something else in mind last winter in Florida, when this bird took a piece of meat right out of his hand.

A puzzling experience

This crazy 1,000 piece puzzle is about 1/3 sky pieces -- all in nearly the same color and in nearly the same shape. Impossible? or merely patience testing? (Photo by Nelson)

A cheesy afternoon

I got caught pigging out on cheese puffs and peanut clusters in a break between movies during a movie marathon last weekend. (Photo by Nelson).

ProjectUrge

This photo (which Nelson took) intentionally omits face and place ... once a month he and I deliver day-old baked goods from Tops in Canandaigua to homeless shelters and domestic violence shelters in Rochester. Garry Manuel, from Crosswinds Church, began this project as part of a ministry, ProjectUrge, to the poor in Rochester. (prourge@aol.com).

After picking up the baked goods in Canandaigua, we drive to Rochester. At each shelter, we walk up to the door, buzz the intercom and announce, "Baked goods for ProjectUrge." A few minutes later a staff member appears, walks out to the Cherokee and chooses the baked goods that will best fit their needs that day. The first place we went on Saturday said they had twenty kids (not people, kids). Y'know this time of year I often complain about cabin fever. This comment made me realize that I don't know the meaning of the word. Imagine being cold, hungry, poor and homeless -- in March in snowy New York.

My Space - revised

I re-did my space a couple weeks ago. The old way looked okay, but was always cluttered because things just didn't work. So I re-did it. I set the bed on concrete blocks, so my totes of clothes fit underneath -- instead of spilling all over the room. The shelves next to the Adirondack chair, my favorite study area, give me a place to neatly stack notebooks, books and other study materials. And the lighting is good, too. I like the Adirondack chair because the wide arms give me room to stack books, notebooks and the seemingly everpresent cup of coffee or water bottle. Besides that the chair was a gift from my daughter and her family, so I feel like I'm getting a hug from them when I'm seated there. The pillow on the floor in front of my chair gives Bart a cozy place to rest. Given that this was taken during finals week, and the space is still neat, obviously this works ... it really is easier to put things away than it is to let them drop.

Lisa

There are two ways to capture an image: a journalistic photo describes an event or place; an artistic photo is done for beauty or to create a mood or idea.

Keeping that in mind ... this is Lisa, from a journalistic point of view. Nelson nabbed this photo as Lisa brought us a hot, delicious breakfast of corned beef and eggs with a laugh and a greeting. She is cheery hospitality on steroids. (I promise you, Lisa; next time we'll get a more artistic photo.) When we walk into Crystal Lakes Restaurant in Farmington, her presence says, "Ahh, two of my favorite people and I GET to wait on them."

Anyway ... when my kids were up from Virginia I took them to Crystal Lake, and introduced Lisa to the family. The next time we visited the restaurant, the first thing Lisa said was, "How's your family? Did they make it back okay?" At that moment she stopped being just our favorite server at our favorite restaurant. She also became a friend.

Today (Saturday) Nelson and I delivered food to domestic violence and homeless shelters in Rochester. Since it's finals week for me and since Nelson has shifted to working evenings, we were jet lagged and exhausted. All went well. We delivered the food in record time and then stopped at Crystal Lakes for breakfast. Lisa saw us at the door and just a couple minutes later, she was leading us to a table with two cups of coffee and two glasses of water -- for us! She then said, "hash brown, eggs, and rye toast as usual?" A few minutes later, there was our breakfast. With feelings of exhaustion abated and since it was a slow time at the restaurant, Lisa even sat down and visited with us a bit. A Canandaigua stained glass artist showed us an album of his art work.

Just one more ...

and then I'll quit till I have another "blog attack". I nabbed this photo off my little brother's web site (http://anths.blogspot.com) which he posted earlier this week.
My son-in-law (Steven) took it when we were at my sister's house in Urbandale, IA, after her oldest son's wedding. I have the best siblings anyone could have. We don't get together often enough (since they're all in IA) but when we do, silliness sure seems to reign.
Alan Paul (and I'm the only one who gets by with using both names) is my big bro. He just got his license to fly a plane using only instruments; he learned to fly when in his 40s. He's had that dream since he was a little kid. I'm so excited that he's accomplished that; and, in his 40s, he also graduated from college.
The second from the left is me.
My baby bro (Perry) is in the middle; he's just man enough that he can handle being called that. Anyway the baby in the family never lives long enough to get any respect. I often greet him, "Hey, Baby Bro, what's up?" He'll lean way down for a hug and answer, "Not much, Big Sis. How about you?" He and his wife have two boys, Eli and Noah, that are the same age as my granddaughters.
My sis is next and her plate is way too full these days. Besides being the mom of four and the wife of one, she's a pastor at her multicultural church, part-time editor of Open Bible Magazine, and she also works as a receptionist half-time. I don't know how she keeps track of all her goings and comings, nor all the takings and picking-ups she does for her kids.
Anth is on the far right -- my little bro. He and his wife have two boys: Brian is the musician I talked about in an earlier post; Christopher is in high school. Anth, like me, is in college. He just took a new position at Alcoa, where he works, and will have a journeyman's license in electrical something-or-other-that-he-tried-to-explain-to-me the other day. I almost got it; when he writes it down for me, then I'll have it for sure.
Their spouses and kids are also awesome. When we're all together now, there's about 40 -- us, spouses, kids, grandkids and then there's some almost-siblings and some almost-kids, but I won't confuse you with all that.

I'm turning into a blogging fiend ...

This will be my third entry in just two days. Oh well, I just had to pass on these photos of my newest "grandchild", taken from my son-in-law's web site (http://
homepage.mac.
com/
steverinojohnson/
iblog).
Steven (left) and Anna Maria (right) adopted Azul (also known as Zuli) from the SPCA. She's supposed to be Steven's dog, but she also seems to have adopted Anna Maria, who is a bit mixed about a having a near-50 pound border collie mix. Zulie is known to try to herd her human sisters -- 4 1/2 year old Liza Grace and Maggie, who's nearly 3 (Maggie is in the background of the photo of AM). I haven't heard how Zulie and Frannie Cat get along.
Zulie loves long walks and likes to be outside, which is a good thing. When Steven is at work and the girls are as much as AM can handle, Azul can play outside for a while.
Azul is named for her blue eyes apparently. I asked Liza Grace on the phone the other day if Azul's eyes were as pretty as hers. "They're pretty but a lot lighter, GrammaNete. They're so light they're almost white," she said.
I sure would love to see that crew, but VA is a twelve-hour drive from here and gas prices don't seem to be lowering much. Soon ... maybe in the summer. That's what I keep telling the girls. "See ya in the summer."

An 80% guideline

(Nelson took this photo in FL last winter)
My running coach used to tell me that the hardest part of a run is near the 75 to 80 percent point. On a three-mile run (12 laps around the track), the first three or four laps were easy. Warmed up and fresh, it was hard to hold back and save energy for the end. Half-way wasn't bad either -- just keep a steady pace and repeat what had just been done. But somewhere between laps nine and ten, the run stops being fun. That's when the real work begins. In my mind I can still hear Coach. "Focus. Pick up your feet. Lift your arms. Breathe ... Pick up your feet. Lift your arms. Breathe...". The mind wants to quit long before the body's done, he'd tell me. That's the point when cheerleaders are the most important. "Go! Go! Go!" I remember a college student who worked out about the same time I ran. Every time I ran past her she'd shout, "Way to go! Keep it up." It usually worked, psyched me up for the finish. And then a stretch break and day to recover for the next run.
I've found that the concept applies in nearly every project. I'm in week eight of a ten-week term. As I study I tell myself, "Think. What's the point? Write it down ... Think. What's the point? Write it down." It's the point where cheerleaders are the most important. Nelson's fixing more meals and helping with some of my chores (like he did my laundry for me this week); he's offering more praise and prayers. Siblings and daughter are e-mailing a bit more often. And it's working. I can do this. Just a few more weeks to go. Then a break for respite and another term.
Dad's nearing the 75 percent point of his radiation treatments, too. I wonder what mantra he'll repeat. Perhaps something like, "Concentrate. Mind the doc. Drink the fluids." And I wonder how best to be his cheerleader. Money for gas. More frequent phone calls. Perhaps a card or two. He can do it. Just a few more weeks. Then a respite and life's next challenge.

The winter that wasn't

This is the most Winter had to offer so far this year
and a neighbor had already cleared most of it
by mid morning Sunday, 2/26.


This photo isn't "pretty", but it shows the depth
of the snow (about 6 inches), which makes the
Canandaigua total about 30 inches this year,
according to a 2/28 article in The Daily Messenger.


Canandaigua's 30-inch total is far below NY's
record holder: Syracuse has a 2005-06 total
of 102.6 inches, Buffalo 70.7 and Rochester
about 65. (i.d.).