I know, I know, I’m late to the game on this place. What can I say? I’ve been busy and since they’re closed Monday nights, I haven’t been able to take advantage of this spot as an easy and quick dinner spot with my guys at the start of a week. Last Saturday, though, the day got away from me with a hair appointment and errands and I found myself approaching hangry and limited on time. I grabbed 2 of my kids and headed over to the corner of Western and Quail for my first Crave experience.
The space is simple and clean with a menu that is equally focused. I needed a burger so I directed my attention to that part of the menu and was quickly taken in by the Black & Blue burger – Gorgonzola, caramelized onions and arugula. I wasn’t feeling blue cheese, so I requested that my burger come medium rare and topped with cheddar. My son went with a bacon cheeseburger and we added a basket of fries to round things off for a total under $25.
My modified black and blue burger
Service was prompt and our food was delivered quickly and piping hot. My burger was served on a roll so delicious that I broke my “no bun” rule and ate every last carb-y crumb. The beef was cooked perfectly and was remarkably juicy and the onions had obviously been cooked low and slow creating a sweet and succulent layer of deliciousness. It was a fantastic burger. Period. The accompanying fries were equally perfect – fried a little beyond golden, piping hot and salted with a deft hand. I’ve never had better.
Liam seemed equally pleased with his burger, but to be honest, there wasn’t a lot of conversation. I was too busy eating.
I’ve got a few running goals for this year that involve total miles run and participating in some races which I’ve never done before. I’m a little off my mark for meeting my goal of 1,000 miles in 2016, but hope to make up my deficit over the summer. As far as new to me races, I’m picking up steam on that front and have entered (and finished!) two new events so far this year with 2 or 3 others in my sights. That’s the future though, and at this time, I’m here to talk about the fantastic race I ran in last night – Summer Solstice Run 2016 in beyond beautiful Minnewaska State Park.
It is impossible for me to put my finger on a single thing that made this run so incredible. The Lunar B*tches were all in place which certainly contributed to the utter joy of the run. My body felt strong and the weather was sublime, I’m talking perfect – no humidity, with warm sun and zero bugs. A dream!
The course was made for me with an opening challenge of about 3 miles of climbing. Fresh legs, good friends and a riot of fragrant mountain laurel all around, made this part of the race manageable. Unlike last month’s 7 Sisters race, the hills weren’t relentless and I never felt overwhelmed by anything other than the stupendous views. I loved seeing the number of runners who could not resist the selfie siren call as we crested hills that opened up to reveal breathtaking views of the park.
There were three water stations along the route and as I approached all of them, (other than the first) I was surprised to find myself already there. The time absolutely flew by me. Each time my running app ticked off another mile, I shook my head in disbelief. Amazingly, it just didn’t feel like a 14K trail race to me and I swear I would have happily run much longer. Knowing that the end was near once I hit the 8 mile mark, I decided to release the hounds a little and increased my pace picking off runners ahead of me gleefully. The last climb made me a bit gaspy, but when I hit the peak and saw a friend, camera at the ready, I committed to a final kick and turned on the speed finishing the race at my fastest pace.
I can’t wait to run there again.
I’ve got a big birthday coming up at the end of summer…fifty…half a century…the golden anniversary of my birth…the point in my life when I just might have to begin behaving a tad more adult. I think I’m ready.
It could be just me, but these decade birthdays began taking on more significance as I aged and I can remember each of them vividly. At 20, I was on the verge of independence and living completely on my own for the first time. For my 30th birthday, I was married and thrilled to be pregnant with my first child. When I turned 40 I thought I had it all, only to realize that maybe it wasn’t enough. And now, as 50 approaches, I find myself excited to flip a page to a new chapter in my life despite not really knowing what may come next.
I’ve learned so many things during my years alive, yet I’m still not sure what the future holds for me. Is that lack of certainty, that acceptance that what happens tomorrow is eternally a mysterious surprise, a sign of growing up? Maybe.
What do I know now that I didn’t know 10 years ago?
- I know that I can outrun cancer and the fear of being alone.
- I know that I can juggle a lot and that, even though I now wear a nightguard because I seem to be grinding my teeth, I am more satisfied with a full life and schedule than with one that lacks challenge and stimulation.
- I know that there will be days that nearly overwhelm me with minutia and situations which demand immediate and close attention, but I’ve also learned that they pass.
- I know that I am utterly blessed to have three healthy children and a positive relationship with their father that is based upon our mutual focus on what is best for them.
- I know that the lines on my face and the grey in my hair are evidence of the length of my life and that I’m lucky to have both of them – and access to quality skincare products and a good colorist.
- I know that life is about give and take and trying to remain cognizant of the balance between the two.
- I know that I’m ready for what comes next.
I’m ready, ready for the laughing gas
I’m ready, I’m ready for what’s next
I’m ready to duck, I’m ready to dive
I’m ready to say ‘I’m glad to be alive’ – U2
Soccer season is nearly over and, for the first time in a long time, it felt like it went by really fast. That’s probably because I’m guilty for making it to too few games for my son who plays travel, and the rec season is actually fairly short with only 6 or 7 weeks games. Either way, when it’s over I will enjoy my Saturday mornings and Tuesday evenings, but they will be lacking in structure without a game to work into the schedule.
Quinn’s spring season was memorable because this was the year that he wore a hand me down keeper’s jersey. Liam and I had brought it back from Germany 3 years ago for my middle son. It was still a bit generous in the sleeve length for my 11 year-old but he insisted upon wearing it each game, regardless of temperature. One week, it was close to 85 degrees and still he wore it – underneath his team t-shirt in case he got called up to play keeper. It was the cutest thing ever.
I swear I don’t know how that jersey can be even close to fitting him. I mean, the shirt looked so big three years ago when my boys were three years smaller. Now, only one son is still to grow into it while the other two are already grown beyond. Just like that. *snap*
As I was mulling over this curious case of time passing quickly and folks growing, I reached for a pair of shorts I bought a few years. They’re blue and white gingham, which, I think, epitomizes summer just like madras and pink lemonade. I pulled them on and up, nervous as always that they would no longer fit for one reason or another. They did. Sort of.
Somehow over the last winter, I grew, too. Not taller or wider or heavier, but a wee bit older. Old enough, actually, to now be too old to wear the checked short shorts that still fit me perfectly – other than the length. I felt absolutely exposed in them in a way that made me uncomfortable. Somehow they had grown too young for me – just like that. *snap.*
Growing up and growing older, that’s the long and short of it.
As I get close to wrapping up my 20th year as a librarian, I’ve been thinking about the future. I’ve always just assumed that I would invest thirty years in my chosen (and mostly beloved) career, but the last few years have been challenging with ridiculous teacher evaluations handed down by
Governor Cuomo State Ed and tight school budgets causing the elimination of positions. It’s been a little disheartening, to be honest, and I think I just might need to have a new plan…
In a little more than five years I will be 55 years old and should have 25 years into the NYS Teacher’s Retirement System. That seems like a substantial amount of time to devote to a profession and I think that may be the perfect threshold to my relationship with teaching. Maybe 30 years isn’t really in the cards for me…
Writing those words caused my stomach to buzz with nerves…and excitement. Walking away from my steady paycheck will be a leap of faith that gets my heart beating a little fast. Mt first response to letting go of financial security is to think about all the reasons why I shouldn’t retire “early.” You know things like the fact that my youngest child will only be 16 years-old with college still to come and my house won’t be quite paid off and I’ll be paying increased out-of-pocket cost related to maintaining the excellent health insurance I presently have. And, really, who knows what the future holds in terms of income from Lark + Lily. Do you think I may actually see some income from this labor of love project?
But, something changed this week, almost as if a coin flipped to the other side and I began considering all the ways my life might improve should I retire in another 5 or 6 years. Instead of focusing on what I may not have available in terms of financial flexibility, I started thinking about the freedom that retirement will offer me. I’ll be able to spend more time with my youngest child. Travel plans can be made based upon when I want to get away rather than dates that are dictated by a school calendar. I’ll have opportunities to pursue other interests – maybe writing, photography or perhaps a position that involves promoting or supporting one of the organizations about which I feel so strongly. I’m feeling recommitted to my teaching job (after summer vacation) and curious to learn what the future may hold in store for me. I think I’ve got a plan.
Monday night I attended a vigil at the NYS Capitol sponsored by the Capital Pride Center. The event, to honor the victims of Saturday night’s massacre in Orlando (not to be confused with previous massacres we’ve witnessed) was organized in the afterglow of Albany’s Pride celebration. How’s that for tragic irony, people?
I gathered with a rainbow of diverse human beings – gay, straight, trans, bi, black, white, brown and yellow, all brought together to acknowledge a tragedy and take a stand. I can’t speak to what may have compelled the hundreds of other attendees to be present, but for me, it was a means of demonstrating that love and unity can triumph over fear and hate, even in dark days filled with uncertainty and sorrow. There were flags and banners and candles that struggled to remain lit on a cool and windy evening and speakers who addressed the crowd to share their thoughts and feelings, each raw with grief and frustration. Aren’t we all at this point?
It seems that many people are interpreting this horrible event as an act of terrorism, but I’m not buying it. The more we learn about the perpetrator, the more it seems that he maybe was a self loathing, repressed homosexual who decided to kill the part of himself that he hated – and take as many others with him. Is that too much psychobabble? I don’t know, honestly, but I do find it more plausible than his having been radicalized by Isis since there doesn’t appear to be any true evidence that he was involved with what is currently the Earth’s most hate filled organization.
While I won’t name the shooter in Saturday’s massacre, preferring to remember those who were gunned down, I have learned a new name that I won’t soon forget – Deborah Glick. When this NYS Assemblymember spoke she didn’t point fingers at Muslims or Isis or even homophobes. No, she railed against the NRA and the culture of guns in our society. Glick matter of factly stated that if the deaths of 20 six and seven year-old elementary students didn’t change the gun possession laws in our country, the deaths of nearly 50 adults in a dance club wouldn’t either. It was a heart-wrenching statement that brought me to tears and has committed me anew to speaking out about the civilian purchase and possession of assault weapons. She’s a new hero to me.
I’ve allowed my personal Facebook wall to become a battleground between friends and former friends about the topic of gun control. I say former friends because I’ve come to realize that there are people I have previously allowed in my life who are no longer welcome – not because our opinions differ, but because we are unable to have a civil conversation about topics upon which we disagree. I just can’t invest my energy or time in debating with people who will not acknowledge that legally purchased weapons are indeed a problem in our country. I’d rather devote my efforts to working for political candidates who favor stricter gun laws and maintaining a distance from the NRA and the influence they wield in our government. How about you? What is the impact of our country’s most recent and deadliest on you?
Or maybe it was your brother or father or lover? Was someone you love murdered for their desire to dance and enjoy a Saturday night out? Not this time? Lucky you. But how about all of those families who will never again see or touch someone who just may have meant the world to them? In whose mind is the theft of a loved one a fair price to pay for the inalienable right to purchase and possess a weapon or two or three? Not mine.
We’re living in a world where the right to own a gun supersedes the expectation that a night in a dance club will end with last call and the lights being turned up. An individual killed 50 people early this morning. 50 people. How is that even possible? My head hurts when I attempt to do the math and consider the number of families who will forever miss the person they lost on a random Saturday night in June. Jesus Christ, when will it end?
I don’t want to hear my president trying to once again make sense of a situation which possesses no logic. I’m sorry but I just can’t look. I know what’s going to happen next – we’ll see the pictures of the murdered people, we’ll be introduced to them all in death never to know them in life, we’ll hear the stories of the survivors and witness their horror and know that something inside of each of them was killed even if they escaped with their lives. We’ve all seen it before, right? And, you know what? We’ll all see it again.
Screw you, NRA, and your steadfast bullshit conviction that you and all your brethren are entitled to purchase and possess a tool of mass murder. Your right will never trump (Trump) the right we as members of a civilized society have to sing and dance and learn and pray. Never.